castle_perrault | tossing and turning

Entry tags:

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."

"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.

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."

Frisk doesn't really think of moving back. Their head flops against the arm of the chair--good thing it's cushioned--and they hesitate again, just for a second, before reaching out and settling a hand on his arm. They honestly want to hug him. They also feel like that might be a little too much right now, for the both of them. "...uh-huh. It's okay. Just because your time isn't--it doesn't--you're still brothers. You and him and me. We can all get to know us more here."

They sigh, except it's shaky. "It's okay," they say again. "Prob'ly not sleeping even if you leave."

He stiffens up slightly under their touch, but after a few moments, he manages to relax, smiling just slightly. He's getting used to touch. It's something he and his brother and Gaster shared a lot, and now he's just applying it to others.

"...Right. You know me too, don't you? Can I ask... how? I mean, what was I like?"

Probably nothing like he is now. He doesn't feel bad asking that, now that he knows they can't sleep. He may as well distract them.

So do they, a little, but he doesn't shake them off. They hope it feels nice.

"...Papyrus? He's en..." their muddled mind can't really spit out the word enthusiastic. "Excited. About lots of stuff. Like cooking. And making friends. He was training to be part of the royal guard when we met, and he was pretty good at it."

It does feel nice, very reassuring. Hearing about what he's like actually helps too, in a strange way. From the way things have been going, he's started to assume Papyrus is who he becomes in the future... so to become someone happy, with lots of hobbies and interests, and talents? It sounds incredible.

"What does he like to cook? And... what's the royal guard?"

"Spaghetti, mostly. I think other pasta stuff too." They don't know how to explain what that is, if S-4 doesn't end up knowing.

That second question gives them pause. They sort of expected someone...made...to take humans out would already know.

"Royal Guard is...they're...monsters who guard. Protect the Underground. Their boss--her name's Undyne, a fish warrior lady, but she works for the king, so. Royal comes from that."

Luckily, S-4 does remember seeing that dish in a cookbook Gaster lent him, so he just nods. "That sounds really good." Maybe someday he'll be a good cook too?

"Oh, I see. They sound really important. I'm not surprised I'd want to join them."

Since S-4 tends to focus more on the part of his duties that involve protecting, that job sounds perfect for him. He could look after everyone, not just Sans.

"...What about my brother? Is he the same as he is here?"

"Undyne taught him cooking, too. She's...also excited about that. And being part of the royal guard, protecting. They're good friends, I think. And he caught me a lot." Frisk's thoughts are jumping around a lot, but they sound quite fond throughout it.

"Sans? Yeah. Think so. He, um. He's a little more serious here. Just a little. Usually..." They brush their bangs from their forehead. "...is he...what's yours like?"

"I'm glad she liked spending time with me. She sounds like someone I'd want to be friends with... what do you mean, caught?"

It's a little hard to keep up, but he's still smiling, hearing how happy they are.

"He does seem kind of serious here... I think he was hurt. A lot."

That's when his smile starts to falter.

"...I don't really know what mine is like."

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that particular icon always gives me many feelings

yuuuup. honestly i have so much icon fodder now, i should probably get more for ultimate feelings

YOU JUST WANT TO MAKE US SUFFER, DON'T YOU.

SUFFERING IS MY FAVOURITE PASTTIME