castle_perrault | tossing and turning

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undertale

tossing and turning

It seems that human food doesn't really do much for the SOUL.

Well, maybe it would if it had been special food. Frisk vaguely remembers hearing about food made by dear loved ones can help heal heartbreak, and that might be close enough to count.

But they don't really...have that right now. They just have castle-made candies and cakes and fruit, and while that was better than nothing, none of that stops the uncomfortable ache settled in their chest and pulsing through their body.

They also recall a little rabbit child talking about how sleeping could help with that. Well, sleeping in hotels specifically, but that rabbit had been in a hotel, and the castle could probably be called a hotel, albeit one filled with unwilling residents.

And so they quest to find a place to take a nap, without having to worry as much about being found by a particular troubled skeleton. They haven't given up on him, nowhere near it, but they'd like to be healthy when they meet again just in case. So their usual resting spot of "in the garden" was discarded, since it's right in the middle of everything.

As nice as it had been to be outside during it, their original plan--to hide out on top of a tower and catch a nap there--was foiled by the rain that came with the storm.

So Frisk carefully steals through the castle towers until they find one with a mostly-empty bedroom almost to the top, and try to rest there.

Key word: try.

The bed is very soft and comfortable, and they hover around the hazy edges of sleep for what feels like hours, but they never quite make it there. They're too worried about...sort-of-Papyrus. And Sans. And their friends they left behind, and their friends here, and just--everyone. They can't focus on a goal until they feel better, but they can't rest unless they stop worrying, and so they just cycle through thoughts over and over and over. And their low HP only distracts them even more.

So eventually, Frisk gives up and collapses into a soft-ish chair by the tower's window instead, watching the sky turn oranges and pinks, and a handful of stars appear between swaths of cloud. Maybe they'll be soothed to sleep by the prettiness of it.

[backdated in the castle's nebulous timeframe of after their 'fight' with S4 and meeting Thor, but before everything else.]

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"...That's not an excuse. I hurt you. And you should be mad. I was..."

He doesn't know what else to say. He's so, so afraid, and even he's confused as to why. He's afraid the doctors may somehow find him and take him back, he's afraid Sans will be hurt, either the one here or the one still fallen down back in the facility. He's afraid he'll do something wrong, but he's afraid of doing what he's supposed to and destroy any humans he may come across.

He's just... scared. He wants to see Sans again. He wants to talk to Frisk, too, but it hardly looks they're in any condition to talk.

"...I should go."

They blink up at her in surprise, and smile again. Not an expected gesture, but still nice.

"Can tell each other 'bout the coolest parts. V'cation plan." Later, of course.

"You're not going to do it again." Not at the moment, at least. They feel pretty certain about that, now that they're face-to-face. Even though he's still afraid, it's not attack-afraid. "Apology's accepted," they add, to make themselves extra clear.

Frisk moves so they're sitting up a bit more. Too tired to get up.

"'F you want. You don't need to." They don't know whether that's the best idea, making him stay or letting him leave, but just letting him go all anxious like that seems bad.

Frisk's smile gives her the courage to try a small stroke, short and light like a rabbit uncertain of whether to flee or remain.

"I look forward to it, but after you rest. Human children, I am told, need much sleep."

Certainly much compared to Elves, who do not truly sleep as Humans understand it.

Maybe Frisk would be the same, eventually. Only caring about those closest to them. But that kind of thing would take a long time.

They would agree if he asked, even if the asking would hurt. They do love him.

"...yes to...story, or...something else?" They've already forgotten what he was offering in the first place. "And. You should go find...bed. Sitting up sleeping is bad for your spine, I think." They realize that's what they're doing, sort of, and move so they're curled up in the chair instead.

Sans' eyes are already closed when he replies: "not for me."

Well, maybe a little for him. But Sans sleeps sitting or standing up often enough to barely notice any lingering aches from doing so, anymore. It helps, being a skeleton held together with magic. It's a lot easier for a ligament or a muscle to nudge a vertebrae out of its place than for magic to do so. Sans presses the back of his hand to one mouth as he yawns again, before adding in a mumble: "probably for you, though."

He was offering half-jokingly a bedtime story, or whatever-time-it-currently-is story. Something to maybe help Frisk get some rest, since the hot dog was something of a failure. Failing that, he was offering to physically block Frisk from getting up from the chair, though that was rather more jokingly given that Sans is barely taller than they are.

But since Frisk doesn't seem inclined to go anywhere just yet, and since they agreed even if they didn't know what they were agreeing to, Sans taps a thoughtful fingerbone against the side of his skull. "hm..." And since "Peek-A-Boo with Fluffy Bunny" might not be the kid's scene, he decides to recall the first chapter of another human book he once read to the point of dogearing. At least that way, he can still recall the first chapter. A book about a school for children who could use magic. He'd liked the words, at least, even if only about half the book had survived the trip down the waterfall.

Their answering hum has a ring of doubt, because they haven't quite thought of that, and Sans doesn't seem like the healthiest anyway. There's no direct calling out, though, since they don't have the energy.

...Frisk recognizes that story. It's a classic.

There are more soothing voices out there than Sans has, maybe, but his words and tone are steady. They close their eyes and listen.

It takes very little time for them to sink into a doze, and any missing words or alterations don't catch their ear enough to jolt them back to awareness.

There's no additional reaction, but it feels very nice.

"Gotta sleep to help grow up healthy. 'S not as fun as up late." They let their eyes close again, and their breathing evens out fairly fast.

Sans has a good memory even when it's being muddled by crossed timestreams, so despite the fact that it's been a while since he read half the book, he tells a reasonably accurate recollection of it. Though, by the end, the words are getting interrupted by occasional yawns, and they start to run together a little. But he's had a lot of practice telling bedtime stories. He knows how to pace himself.

By the time he's done, Sans cracks open one eye and peers up at Frisk. Satisfying himself that the kid seems to be dozing, at least, he closes his eye again. It won't take more than a few seconds before he falls entirely motionless, snoring lightly. In the end, it proves to be one of his better sleeps, even if he will feel a little sore in the spine when he finally does wake.

"That is true."

She rises, then carefully, gently, she scoops Frisk into her arms to take them to bed.

He seems more afraid of the possibility of attacking than of Frisk doing anything that warrants an attack... more afraid of himself than anyone else. It's a little selfish, he knows, but maybe he's also scared of what Frisk thinks of him, so he's listening carefully, and his shoulders visibly slump into a more relaxed pose when they mention they forgive him.

"...Thank you. I, um... I don't really want to leave."

He wants to stay with Frisk, especially since they're hurt.

"Um... is there any way I can help? I... Just let me try this."

He holds up his hands, palms facing Frisk, trying to show he's not dangerous, as he slowly moves towards the chair they're sitting in.

Frisk doesn't know why. They've never dealt with a monster that outright couldn't control their own powers before, or even heard of that, so it doesn't occur to them S4-'pyrus might actually do that now that he doesn't think they're bad.

They nod in acknowledgement, at least until he starts talking about help. They echo "...'This'?" And they kind of--twitch. Maybe it would've been an outright flinch if they weren't so bone-tired. 1 HP is not a fun state to be in. How does Sans exist, they wonder for not the first time.

Oh, his powers aren't exactly out of control. It's just that someone else has the reins, instead of S-4. Even if they aren't here, and the one person who could control him is a different version that would never abuse that control... he can't help but be concerned.

He shakes his head at the twitch, resisting the urge to pull back.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

He gets close enough to kneel beside Frisk's chair, and he slowly lifts a hand, brings it over to Frisk, and touches the palms of their hands together. A flicker of magic in his eyes before it trails down his arm and into Frisk's body.

It's warm and tingly, but it should be obvious the magic isn't harming Frisk. On the contrary, it's healing their scrapes and bruises and bringing their HP up bit by bit.

Frisk ducks their head apologetically.

It's kind of weird. They're a tiny bit stiff when his eyes flare up, but they want to trust him, so they don't pull away. They do instinctively settle their fingers between S4's, though, in something that isn't quite holding hands, but feels close enough for them to feel a bit more comfortable.

"...Thank you," they breathe. Not so fragile anymore. And they hadn't known he could do that at all--they should've, maybe, since they always woke up in the garage fine...though that might've been just their blacking out? Frisk isn't sure. Also, their thoughts are wandering, and they should try avoiding that.

They rub at their eyes with their other hand and give him a little smile. "'S much better."

He starts to relax bit by bit, the longer he lets magic flow out from his hand and dance around Frisk's fingers before sinking into their skin. He likes his healing magic. It's a bit odd to be using it on someone that isn't his brother, but... it does make him feel a bit like he's made up for the trouble he's caused. He's helping someone else, and maybe that's okay. Maybe it's alright to exist for more than for his brother.

He keeps their fingers intertwined for a moment after the last of Frisk's HP returns, before pulling away with a gentle, sheepish smile. They seem a bit surprised by the display... maybe the 'real' Papyrus doesn't have that kind of ability. It makes him feel a bit uncomfortable.

"I'm glad you feel better... I'm sorry again for the trouble."

Frisk flexes their fingers and stretches. Better, but they're still tired. Worrying for hours and hours does that, they guess, and they settle their side against the arm of the chair, watching him from a funny angle.

"It's okay. You're helping me now, right? ...Been in other fights before, too. I'm used to it, can handle it," they say, attempting reassurance.

He wasn't expecting his healing to help Frisk entirely. He knows his healing abilities are more tuned towards monsters, and towards Sans-Serif specifically. But at least it did something instead of backfiring, so he doesn't feel like he should run away again.

"You're... too young to fight."

He doesn't know much about humans, but they're so small, it's hard to believe they'd be able to handle a serious battle.

S4 isn't wrong at all. They rub at their eyes.

"Lots of monsters think we're...bad. Even kids. I made friends with lots, too, but." They move their hand in a grand gesture at nothing, mentally encompassing all the underground beings they'd encountered. "It was hard, and I had to learn. 'M usually better at dodging." Frisk is slightly miffed at their own self at how badly they'd done against him, and there's an edge of exasperation in their voice to show it.

"...Oh. It seems like that is a common perception. I mean... that's why Sans and I..."

That's why the two of them were created. S-4 trails off, too nervous to say more. He hears the displeasure in Frisk's voice, and he can't help but laugh quietly.

"Don't feel bad. I... I'm supposed to be very strong. Maybe you just haven't fought someone that's capable of... all of that."

That nets him a brief puzzled stare. Their persistent exhaustion means filling in the blanks takes a bit longer than it normally would. "...oh. Yeah." They're not even sure what to say about it, anyway.

"You are strong...still. Did lots and I'm out of practice. And also, made me remember--I'm sorry back at you," Frisk interrupts their own train of thought. "Shouldn't have stayed, knew you were scared and made it worse. Usually more careful than that too."

He doesn't know what to say about it either, though he does lower his head and mumble a quiet "sorry" before falling silent. He knows he shouldn't really be apologizing for existing, and he couldn't have changed everyone's mind about humans, but he still feels strangely guilty.

"Made you remember what...? You shouldn't apologize. I was... you didn't know I would do that. And you... were worried about me."

Or worried about some... other version of him. This Papyrus everyone besides him seems to know.

"Different fights, just that," Frisk says as dismissively as they can. It made them remember losing to their Papyrus and all their weird feelings about everything, and they don't feel like talking about that too much.

"We're...we're both sorry. They were accidents." Their arm lifts, hesitates, partially drops back down. "Are you...okay?" He's very clearly not, but they don't know what to ask otherwise.

"Ah, I understand."

He holds back another apology. He can see he's made Frisk a little uncomfortable, so he doesn't pry.

"I guess it was an accident... I'm okay, though. Now that... I've found Sans here, it isn't so bad."

He's not sure he'll ever get used to this place, but he's at least functioning.

They feel an unexpectedly strong rush of guilt at brushing him off like that. They shift a little more until they're physically a bit closer, though that puts them dangerously close to the edge of the chair.

"I'm...it's good you found each other. He was...he...I think he needs--needed people he knows. Other than just me. Or Gaster. People he knows and loves. And glad you're not alone here either. It's nice." Frisk's voice is fuzzy.

At that he moves a bit closer, so that Frisk doesn't have to sit on the edge of the chair any longer. He wants them to be comfortable... he wants lots of people to be comfortable here.

"...Do you think it's okay that it's me? I'm not exactly the one he 'knows'..."

He manages a sheepish look.

"Oh... sorry, you're tired. I shouldn't be bothering you."

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