[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

[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?

[dustless]

On the way, Frisk doesn't interrupt the silence. Nothing wrong with quiet sometimes.

They don't sit, either, though they lean against the window's edge, staring outside. It's nearly dark. Maybe they'll be able to see the stars from here soon? They've made up some constellations. Maybe they should share them later.

The cough has them twitching back to reality, immediately making a face. "...Yeah. Met him. That--that one really wasn't yours, though."

[itstheend]

They look down at Chara's shoelaces, as if they have suddenly become an officially ordained shoelace inspector. One of the bits-at-the-end is about to fall off.

"I know."

They just found that out, after all. Still hurts, right now, and they stuff down a snap of bitter on the back of their tongue. That isn't them. Maybe it's too long fused with Chara. Chara doesn't even bother with words in their retort this time.

"S'just... he took Chara's. And they're mad at him."

An understatement.

Chara holds grudges; it's one of the things that makes them Chara, in Frisk's estimation. That's how they're going to be for a while, and they hope not forever, to a snort, but it does bring with it the inherent difficulty in riding in a body with another who's choices you should theoretically respect.

"So's I can't talk to him."

They're not so cruel as to walk Chara there in their sleep anymore, either. It's not worth it to risk them waking up in the middle at the moment.

[dustless]

Extra reassurance, they thought. Not theirs showing up at the last minute and being a jerk.

"...oh. Didn't think I saw theirs," they mumble, mostly to themselves.

And they can't help but frown a tiny bit, though they guess it's understandable. It's pretty scary that anybody can do that, and they even knew that it happened. But still, they need to clarify: "--might not make them any less mad, but...he...that wasn't normal. Think the Castle was messing with his head."

[itstheend]

Even if he was being a jerk, he's still their brother. Or not, as the case turns out.

The thing with sharing headspace is that you have to be careful with what thoughts and memories leak over. That's why they know Chara doesn't remember seeing Frisk there either, lost in static fuzz as they were. That's why Frisk avoids letting slip more than rainbow.

They know that's not normal for him, but it's not without precedent either.

"It... doesn't, sorry," they say with a nervous air, scratching at Chara's face and paraphrasing the general sentiment streaming from that half of their communal quarters. Frisk already forgives him, but then again, they're not one of the ones he wronged that way. They were still a ghost when the castle was destroyed and it came back without them. Nothing they weren't already used to.

"Could you do something nice for him, for me? He seemed sad."

They're looking at the other Frisk with a small, tiny hopeful smile. Please cheer up not-goatbro by proxy, he needs it. They can trust another Frisk to do it, since they can't in person!

In a person.

[dustless]

Frisk ducks their head a little. They tried, they guess. (Something to work on later.)

"...Yeah. I can do that. Um, kinda owe him some nice myself, anyway 'cause..." Maybe admitting a little of what happened'll make Chara feel better, even if it's talking about them being kind of mean. Feels mean just to think they'd like hearing it, but Frisk's pretty sure they're not totally wrong. "...we got in a FIGHT. At the end of...just before everything went normal again. I was--I said some crap stuff."

[itstheend]

(You have their full and willing collusion.)

"Thanks, me!" The smile becomes more genuine, cheerfully grateful, and Frisk swings Chara's legs back and forth. They have the urge to hug their other self, but that'd be rude to just do without knowing their preferences for touch, they think. Leaning against them was apparently okay, but 'apparently okay' is probably a thing common to Frisks, maybe.

And then the other continues and it becomes moot anyway - the mention of FIGHTing him definitely gets Chara's interest and approval, although the only outward sign is Frisk sweatdropping just a little.

"What happened?"

Their tone is curious and sympathetic. The other Frisk plainly feels bad about it. They can relate; they, uh, showed some ugly colours before the two of them died, which they regret heavily. They shove down the thought they'll never be able to truly apologize here, hard.

[dustless]

"Welcome, me." They solemnly thumbs-up.

A long breath gets sucked in through their teeth. They expected more questions, only that didn't make it easier to really answer. "Just, um...a FIGHT. He tried to take over the castle's timeline. Didn't...didn't work. And I was a demon then, and was super extra pissed off, and I. Um. Tried to set him on fire. An' yelled a lot. Didn't actually really know he took anybody's SOULS 'til he let them go. It--yeah. Not all of it was...fair, I guess. What I said."

Do they regret attacking him outright? They should. They really should. But the fire didn't do anything anyway, no damage. They feel bad about not feeling bad.

...Frisk's not going to talk about that, though. Probably. Unless they're pressed kinda hard.

[itstheend]

Frisk tips Chara's head, thinking. 'Setting him on fire' makes them think of their mom.

"Oh, you had magic?" They sound interested and pleased, as if they just learned the other Frisk could do kickflips. If there's a little wistful envy, it's very deeply buried.

You have interesting priorities. They're getting to it! They mull over the next question before putting it, because they know it's going to open a can of worms.

"You... couldn't SAVE them?"

Because they can't imagine a them who wouldn't have tried it if they knew they could. Sorry, Kotetsu, they did their best. They ignore Chara's aggressive internal question marks.

"Sometimes," they say quietly. "You do have to FIGHT."

When there's no other option. A bitter truth they had to learn that still leaves a rejective taste in their mouth. They don't know the full details yet, so they can't really make any comment, they feel. Their other self shouldn't feel bad for doing what they had to, if they had to. That said -

"S'good you're gonna fix it." The tone is warm.

[dustless]

"Yeah. Fire, flying." Cool. Maybe not worth the extra temper issues.

They visibly hesitate. A hand goes up to press against their chest, right where their SOUL usually came out.

"...I don't think so. I don't...I couldn't...reach. Anybody. I don't--I think I was just too mad. My SOUL was on fire too." It's like their rage blocked their SOUL and their ACTs. But they don't want to say that, it sounds too much like an excuse.

Yeah. They do need to FIGHT. Like Asgore. Did Chara FIGHT him too? Did Flowey even exist--?

Gonna fix it.

That slams their thoughts to a halt. And feels like they'd got a cold knife in the chest.



"...Yeah. Gonna. Don't...worry."

apparently rock is very super effective agains that type

[itstheend]

"Cool!" All magic is cool. Flying is great, isn't it? They listen attentively as other-Frisk explains, before -

Ohhhhh no.

They messed up, didn't they? The other Frisk is hard to read (is this what it's like to talk to them?) but... the way they pull their hands in isn't good, they don't think. There's the thought that next time they die, if that happens... but Chara hasn't saved here yet. Maybe they aren't able to. Maybe it's connected to whatever stopped the other Frisk from SAVEing the other way.

Maybe you should start explaining what you mean by 'SAVE.' Later, later! This is more important.

"I mean, um." They're not sure what to say, why this reaction occured. They were planning to make it up to him some way anyway, right? Isn't that fixing things between them? It's awkward to apologize, when the other Frisk just brushes it off, and they're not entirely sure what they're apologizing for, but they still duck Chara's head, mouth thinning.

"Sorry. ...I'm not worried."

Well, they are now a little bit, but for different reasons.

LAUGHS

[dustless]

Their hand's still against their chest, slowly constricting like claw, like they're trying to pull their SOUL out that way. They're not, of course, they don't even notice they're doing it.

Frisk blinks at other Frisk. In Chara's body, it hits them again, properly. It's weird--it's kind of dark, and Chara's Frisk-shaped enough that they can be mistook for the other, if you're not looking too close.

"You don't...don't worry. Wait, I jus'--" They sigh and shake their head at their own words. "--You don't gotta be. Sorry or worried. 'S okay." It's not this Frisk-and-Chara's problem. They do need to fix it, or at least help Asriel with it, and they will. It's not anyone's fault they have some bitterness in the back of their throat about it.

[itstheend]

Quite a few things Frisk has meddled in could be said to be not their problem. A tendency to make such things their problem greatly contributed to the Underground's opinion on humans doing a 180, even if it got them in trouble on occasion.

(And when they came back, one mistake had undone it all.)

Chara's fingers squeeze the windowsill.

"Doesn't look okay," they observe, pressing ever so slightly, voice soft enough to match their not-twin's. They tug Chara's sleeves over their hands, one by one, twisting their fingers in the ragged cloth and looking down at them.

They let the words stand and the silence suck like a vacuum; draw the distress out like poison, maybe. It's up to the other them if they want to elaborate, but Frisk really would like to know what they did wrong. They don't want to do it again. They don't understand, and it bothers them.

[dustless]

The problem with kids that want to solve others' problems, and their own, on their own. And listeners more than talkers.

Adding in this Frisk's extra-strong attachment to an Asriel, they don't want to go into their own issues involving him. Especially since this Frisk probably contributed to their Underground's problems and Chara having to fix them (probably? or things to FIGHT. one or the other) and might make them feel worse.

They rehash what they've already said. "It is. Okay as it's gonna be for right now," they say firmly. "Feel bad about being mean, but I'm gonna fix it, and then it'll be more okay. It'll just take some time."

[itstheend]

It really is like looking into a mirror, a little disquietingly so. Frisk does something they don't do without reason. They back off. They nod. It makes sense. (They can always try again later.)

"Okay."

They turn Chara's head towards the window, look out towards the very last rays of sun, swing their legs a little more, and then jump down. They feel a bit... well not better exactly, but more on an even keel.

"D'you want to finish the cake castle?"

A genuine, open offer, said as if the last bit hadn't happened at all.

[dustless]

That's alright. It did what they wanted, kind of--got Frisk less upset about Asriel, hopefully made Chara feel a little better.

(They know themselves well enough to know that their own response might not've been the most satisfying, but they're going to avoid the real issue. It's not as important as Asriel, anyway.)

They perk up a little, hand finally dropping to their side. "Yeah! I mean--if you do. You don't gotta."