[Open/Mingle Post For All] Well here we are again

[sansational]

Sans has been keeping tally marks. Not entirely reliably, of course. But around about the point he first started realizing that his time in the castle wasn't just a dream, he started keeping marks on some of the older headstones in the cemetary. Just for his own sake. Just for what had been at the time the sheer novelty of watching time progress in a linear manner again. And after a certain point, it had simply become a force of habit. After all, by then he'd taken to poking around the cemetary regularly anyway to check for new people anyway.

One morning, he realizes that - give or take a few days - his tally marks now total up one year. 

That's...something to think about. And he takes a couple of days to think about it, while he works on a certain project alongside Tauriel. He thinks about everything that's happened in a year. All the people that have come and gone. Some of them haven't gone, though. Thanks to the most seemingly minor circumstances in the world, they're here beside him instead. He's more grateful for that than he would have thought he could be, back then.

After all, that means when he finally decides to put his plan into action, he has Serif and Papyrus to help him spread the world. He has Tauriel to help him pinpoint people he might not have met yet - there really are so many more people around nowadays. And he has Frisk to keep him motivated, even if they don't know exactly how they're doing that. After all, he can't relax too much from this project, because another certain project is always waiting for him. It has been for weeks now, even before the recent chaos.

So once the dust has settled from the mass transforming, more or less everyone in the castle will find themselves receiving a message from a skeleton in a blue hoodie. He speaks it in person if he feels safe to approach. Otherwise, he leaves a note with a date, time, and a brief mention of a plan. The location his invitation points to is the ballroom, with its mirrored floor and its impossibly long buffet tables full of sweets.

On the stated day, at the stated time, everyone will...still have to wait five minutes for Sans to pull himself together after a nap, remember what he's supposed to be doing, and suddenly appear inside the room, still in the process of hastily smoothing out his badly rumbled, wrinkled notecards. It had taken him literal hours to dig these up out of the mess his lab has become.

"so, uh, yeah," he says, looking from the assembled residents to the cards and back again. He has to learn in and squint to read his own faded handwriting. "should probably explain what you're all doing here. so. i'm sure you've all noticed that this castle has got some weird things going on, above and beyond the whole, uh...stealing us from across time and space thing. i'm also assuming that most of you want to go home and won't mind helping me figure out a way to get us there." He gestures at the table. "to do that, i'm gonna need to start testing some of these theories. guesswork is fun, but it doesn't get us anywhere. timing how long it takes this place to reset something seems like a good start. and so this particular experiment runs as cleanly as possible, uh...i'm gonna need your help eating everything on that table. like, all of it. just don't choke on any shiny bits." 

Message delivered, Sans crams the notecards back in his pocket, and spreads his arms in silent indication for everyone to dig in. 

Those castle residents who were here last year might have reason to be suspicious. Might even have reason to call this entire plan a lie. After all, they know that trying to eat everything on these tables ultimately didn't lead to a damn thing being discovered about the castle. At least, besides some uncertain notes that Sans never thought were worth sharing. Why get people's hopes up? 

But what had been accomplished was getting everyone together and talking. Connections had been made. Support systems had been built. Maybe that can happen again for some of the newcomers. He can only hope. 

Besides. Maybe this year will be different. Science is all about repetition, after all.

((ooc: Post comments for your characters that can be replied to, and mingle as you see fit! Eat, drink, be merry, have food fights, and try to be sick outside! There are very few people Sans wouldn't have invited. Even if you don't think he would have invited you, you can feel free to have your characters notice the noise and wander inside to see what the fuss is about.))

Comments

[dustless]

"Hi." They certainly are cheerful without any kind of edge to it, which already has Frisk more alert and aware. Not that they show it.

They shrug exaggeratedly. "Dunno. I'm just building--maybe it'll be like...a...house. You know, those things that happen...'round the cold holidays?" (They mean ginger bread houses.) "You can try it if you want to."

[itstheend]

Frisk... thinks they know what the other Frisk means. They think. That's pretty cool.

"Maybe'll wait until you're done."

They don't want to ruin the house in the process of being built, after all. It's like a leaf pile, probably. It's always best to get all the leaves before jumping in, right?

"Can I help?"

They're sidetracking themself and they know it, and they're already picking out bits of cake, although they aren't making to add them without permission.

[dustless]

"'S okay, you can help. Dunno if it's gonna get done, 'cause we're supposed to be eating it, but I don't feel like doing that," they say frankly. "It might fall down if it gets too tall and stuff, too. Or if you feel like smashing it..."

Pause.

"...if you do, maybe we can make it a castle first."

Petty and childish, they know, but they're still kind of mad at the castle, and that'll be less distressing to people than actually wrecking a part of the castle again.

[itstheend]

Frisk reaches over and starts stacking the bits of cake on, sticking out their tongue as they adjust them so they don't fall, and then reach for more. Smashing the cake as an idea feels uncomfortably like a waste of food, but they've been here long enough to notice it all comes back somehow, so it isn't really.

The castle comment brings their gaze back to the other Frisk, faintly puzzled before it clicks; oh, the castle is what made last month happen, and while Frisk mostly enjoyed it (mostly, because it got really terrifying at the end), it's pretty obvious a lot of people didn't.

They're reminded of Kotetsu's nod of approval when they knocked over things, but it makes more sense coming from a them, they think. It feels like a shouldn't-supposed-to, but the kind that just makes doing that much more fun.

"Maybe if we make it big enough we can jump in it."

They've always wanted to try that sort of thing with the huge wedding cakes they have in movies.

[dustless]

They would've been worried about food wasting too, but they've gotten used to the reappearing act the same way. Plus, they're just plain so sick of it they wouldn't care even if it were. Leave the wreckage for other people to eat, if they feel like it.

(Plus they've got a bunch stashed in a few hideaways around the castle, anyway, Shhh.)

They grin at the maybe-Chara. That does sound pretty fun. "Yeah. Then--then we can make snow angels, 'cept they'd be frosting angels instead!"

[itstheend]

(There's probably going to be an ant epidemic, at this rate.)

They put a hand to their chin. "We'll need a lot of cake. Hang on!" They move around to the other end of the table and clamber up onto it and then start shoving a mass of confectionary items towards the building site like a snowplough before jumping back down, pleased. "There!"

They start enthusiastically piling it on. Their entire front is covered in cake frosting. There's a blob stuck in Chara's hair when they unconsciously pushed their too-long fringe back to see better. After a while they pause, having remembered why they came over in the first place, and turn towards the other Frisk, looking a little conflicted. How to put this? There's no point concealing they exist from them anymore anyway, not after what happened.

"Um. I never got to thank you," they open with. "For helping Chara."

If they hadn't fetched Pa- S4...

[dustless]

(That is what pretty boxes with heavy tops are for.)

Frisk watches them work, grinning wider. What a mess! This table's narrow, so they just drop and crawl beneath it to get to the other side and start working. This cake castle is going to be huge.

They're considering whether an Edge is important when Char--...when they speak up, eyes sliding from their creation to their face. "...'s okay. You're welcome." Their head tilts. "And you're...who, 'zactly?" They're 99% sure they're another, more weird Frisk, but it's not good to assume all the time.

[itstheend]

Frisk scratches at the side of Chara's face with a finger, and remembers the hard way that Chara doesn't chew their nails, whoops.

"'M you, sort of. I was a ghost for a while?"

Hello again. And now they're back in Chara. Home sweet home. They sneak a few bites of cake while making one of the spires.

"It was weird."

Not unpleasant, but weird. A thought occurs to them.

"Chara's asleep," they reassure, just to confirm they haven't stolen their body or ousted them or anything. Just a switchover.

[dustless]

"Oh. Yeah, remember that." Barely. That was a stressful time--they don't remember the last time they'd panicked that hard. ('Cept maybe when Papyrus and Tauriel went missing, and Serif and Sans doing really bad. That might've been close.)

They nod slowly. Chara never went to sleep--and they'd never slept for Chara to take over. Maybe they would've if going back to a SAVE didn't make them feel refreshed.

"You're in them, too. Kinda weird for me, too." Two toos, oops.

[itstheend]

"Sorry," they say, although even they aren't sure what they're apologizing for. There's not really anything they can do about this state of affairs, much as Chara and they have fervently wished otherwise in the past.

"S'been like this ever since they fell." They shrug and fiddle with a cupcake before putting it on the very top. "Still kinda weird for me, too."

Three toos, too, now!

"Did... things go different, in your world?"

Is their brother still alive?

[dustless]

This Frisk does't know either, and they dismiss it with a small shrug.

...Since theyfell? They lay their hands flat on the table, leaning their weight on it.

"...Um. I think so. Did--did you die before them?" Then they wince slightly. Coulda said that a lot better...

[itstheend]

That nets the other Frisk an odd look, three neutral lines.

"Um. You didn't?"

Even if a certain plan didn't go through, it's been a long time since they fell and Chara did. They'd be really, really old, if not dead already.

...it's really strange to think about. They can't imagine what a grown-up them would even be like.

"How'd'you meet?"

Was it here?

[dustless]

Matching stares. Might be a little unsettling to people on the outside.

"...no. They...died a long time before I got underground. They were the first human to fall ever, actually." They absently lick a bit of frosting from their thumb, looking mildly dissatisfied as it melts on their tongue. "We met...when I fell. And I think we had the opposite thing, 'cause I noticed them after I landed in the flowers and got fought."

[itstheend]

"Oh."

The twilight zone theme is metaphorically playing in the background. The cake castle has been momentarily forgotten.

"That's... that's really weird." They have to physically force themself to not start chewing Chara's nails, pressing the tips into the flesh near their mouth instead in a last minute fashion. "So we're swapped?"

They... don't know how to feel about this revelation. They grip their arms, well, Chara's arms, tightly.

"Azzy... is he okay in your world?"

They really need to know. They've made mistakes. But they... would Chara do the same? If the other Frisk woke up a Chara the same way they were woken up... but boss monsters live a long time, don't they? The question has a thin edge of stress to it. Please let things have worked out somewhere.

[dustless]

'Azzy.'

So they were the first.

He...must've been really, really important--of course he was, he was Asriel, but he was--a brother. If...if they had to ask some other Frisk in a mirror castle about Serif--or it's easy-easy-easy to draw lines between them and Sans and his Papyrus.

Silence.

[itstheend]

"Oh."

The silence is answer enough. It's said in a very, very small voice as Frisk seems to fold inwards, hugging themself for some small, cold, comfort.

So it... was inevitable, then? They thought if they'd never fallen, never screwed up everything, thrown everything they ever had under the bus doing something really, really stupid, then surely... but it seems Chara is just as bad as they are. There's a flare of resentment they do their best to stifle. That's not fair to this Chara, at least.

Maybe any kid would have done what they did, in their position - some Ambassador they were. They don't know if that's better or worse.

*As if who you are never really mattered at all.
*Ha ha…
*The thought terrifies me.

They need to... they need to sit down. They sort of sink-fall onto the carpet, staring down at the ground and clutching their hands together at their chest. There's a groggy stirring from Chara at the maelstrom of emotions whirling, and they're told it's okay, go back to sleep.

[dustless]

...What happened? Was it an accident? Was it...not? They're pretty sure they wouldn't have gone with buttercups if it wasn't, they think distantly. But they're not going to ask.

(Yet.)

Instead they drop down too, crawling under the table again to re-emerge from the cloth just to settle next to Frisk-in-Chara's-body.

If they were just Frisk, they would've pulled them into a hug. As it is, they'll...be here. Next to them, if they want anything. Quietly.

[itstheend]

Good thinking, there. A half-awake Chara and a hug would not have gone down well at all, even with Frisk's personal craving for physical comfort. Instead, they wordlessly lean into the other, shoulder to shoulder, slow enough that if this isn't wanted their other self can easily pull away.

Chara's hands are slipped back into their sweater sleeves, and the fold of one is held over their eyes as their shoulders quietly shake, sounds choked off before they can fully escape. They don't want to ruin the party. Everyone else is having fun. It'd be rude to make them stop just on Frisk's account.

It's all hitting them at once. They never got a chance to really, properly mourn; back in the Underground it was one thing after another, infinite tasks and distractions to avoid thinking of it, beyond a moment in the Void. Here, it seems that's finally run out.

"He... I..."

Their voice is thick and wavering. They swallow, and stop. They really want a hug right now. They want mom's warm, soft embrace, or dad holding them close. Gentle, he always was so gentle. They want their brother's, given when he couldn't think of anything else because hugs were supposed to make people not so sad, right?

Crybaby, says Chara, and nothing else. They sniff snot back up into their nose.

"Sorry," they whisper, to both.

[dustless]

"...'S okay."

They want to reassure them that it really is, Asriel's here! But both of them aren't theirs, they're Chara's.

"Maybe he'll come here someday," they settle on saying quietly instead. They told Sans that, before. Maybe Papyrus will come. He hasn't, not his, but they're holding out hope for that too, even now.

1/2

[itstheend]

"..."

The sweater sleeve moves in a small circle before falling to their side. They draw Chara's knees up to their chest, hugging them tight. For once Frisk is glad of Chara's annoyingly long fringe, head tipped forward. Apart from a certain red rawness around the eyes, there's no sign of what just happened, everything locked back down again.

"S'okay," they repeat, mostly inflectionless with a tint of sorely needed and maybe unsuccessful self-reassurance. "Thanks."

2/2

[itstheend]

There's a silence before they pull themself back to the surface.

"Yeah," they say, a little more colour in them, in their neutral expression, leaning back upright (it'd be selfish to draw more comfort than they need), and rubbing at Chara's nose with their sleeve, crinkling it.

"I... I thought the ones here..."

Were versions of their brother. It never occurred to them that things could differ so greatly between worlds. This is more than a simple timeline split.

"...I guess not. Um. Can I ask a favour?"

[dustless]

That's...concerning, actually. They don't like crying around lots of people either, but shutting it down usually doesn't mean anything at all good.

It must be a hard hit to the heart. Brothers that barely know them. Or--really, who don't know them at all. Just last-SOUL Frisks.

"...okay. And you--if--we can go. Somewhere else. If you want to. Easier to talk."

[itstheend]

"Um. Yeah, that. That might be good. Thanks."

The party feels too loud and colourful and crowded all of a sudden. Some fresh air and away from the eyes of people would be really really nice right now. They stand up, using the edge of the table, and look at the half-complete castle-cake.

"Is it okay to leave?"

They won't begrudge anyone eating it or smashing their face into it or anything, but other-Frisk put some hard work into it and it'd be a shame if that went to waste. There's also that old instinct that unhidden food is food that can disappear without notice. Then they turn back to other-Frisk themself.

"D'you know where...?"

Did you have a place in mind or were you just thinking; anywhere not here, at the moment?

[dustless]

Frisk's too busy getting to their feet to see where they're looking. "Nobody'll stop us," they reassure, brushing off their knees and starting to step away to the nearest door. "And we can com back later, 'f you feel like it."

Where, indeed. They hadn't really thought of anything, but they beckon as if they do. They'll lead them somewhere nice and quiet.

[itstheend]

Frisk looks down at Chara's feet as they follow the other. Usually it isn't too much of a problem (sometimes, of course, it's very bad) but they feel awkward, uncomfortable and ill-fitting in Chara's skin at the moment. They can't exactly slip back out of control mid-conversation, though. It feels like it'd be running away, too.

We both know how much you like not doing that. A wince.

At the destination, they go over to the nearest windowsill and sit on it, kicking Chara's legs, forearms resting on their thighs. Away from the party, they can feel themself slowly relaxing; pushing everything away emotionally becomes somewhat easier. They cough, before looking up at other-Frisk.

"One of them was... stealing souls."

Just ease into it, why don't you?