WHAT: Sometimes this is the place he goes when he sleeps.
WHO: Anyone stupid enough to show up.
WHEN: All day and all night. Karkat most likely passed out some time after telling John how stupid he was!
There is no door.
There are no windows.
This room is full of thick glass cylinders and fat wires that stretch too long and lead nowhere. Most cylinders are full with grotesque black creatures whose shapes are impossible to discern because they're ever-changing, mutating like new super-strands of illness and disease with bulging frog-eyes.
Some of them have evolved teeth. They snap and snarl bubbles inside their container, as if growling was the only purpose they grew them at all.
One occupant isn't concerned: they aren't a threat.
The other occupants don't have his awareness, because they're dead.
Some cylinders are broken with shards of glass glittering on the floor. Piles of leaking black mutations lay there in them.
This room doesn't exist in reality or memory, but here it's real. Its walls are littered with panels and difficult technology, buttons, and indigo-violet slathered over one as if someone had taken their hand, pushed it in paint, and slopped on two eyes, a round nose, and a very large smile. It might look pleasant if not for the way the color dripped, leaving streaks down the wall.
The body count is as impressive as the colors.
Two purples, one brighter and warmer than the other. The body of a girl bleeds the cheerful color all over her corner of the floor, starting from the large round hole in torso body -- but the only way one can tell she's a girl is from the shape, because she's missing her head.
The darker purple is more widespread, because its source is split into three pieces. One part is seeped in the color of its bright counterpart. The other is across the room in an opposite corner. The only thing missing is the head.
Jade green pools with still integrity around an intact body. This one is also a girl. Somehow, she's maintained dignity in death.
There is the shape of a girl dressed in orange, her body covered in a wash of light blue and brown, run through from the back with the long horns of one severed head, leaking brown from its neck.
Yellow bleeds from the hollow black eyes of a troll who sits upright, head down. It coats his lap. He isn't alive, but the cause of his death isn't apparent. A dark red color is also present, but no body is there to go with it.
Bright red dots the floor, smears the wall, and originates from the only body that has a natural, human skin tone. It's dressed in blue, face-down, and bleeding from the back. Whatever happened to him, he never saw it coming.
Karkat is sitting on what appears to be a metal trunk, back turned to a screen that flashes as if trying to grab his attention. His lashes are low over his all-yellow-but-the-gray-iris-and-pupil eyes, whose dark black bags denote someone who doesn't sleep -- or if they sleep at all, it isn't often. His mouth is steeped in a frown natural to his face, but far more grim.
There are smudges of teal on his right cheek. The color drips from the palm of his left hand and stains the front of his shirt. What's strange about it is the way it never seems to stop dripping, despite the lack of presence of a wound.
The lights don't flicker, but they look like they should.
On the other side of the room, a cylinder bubbles and the glass creaks while it cracks.
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