Time for Die | {First Half Closed to @itstheend/ To Come: Second Half Open!}

[characlysmic]

 After getting their ass so thoroughly handed to them on a freaking silver platter, Chara, a mentally and emotionally stable individual had taken to some good old destructive therapy on the the stairs. A pile of old musty expensive looking books sit beside them, most likely detailing some sort of fascinating history or story. These things looked handwritten, they'd grabbed the most expensive ancient looking books they could find, the stuff that looked like it would have been worth a pretty penny back home. 

Which was of course, why Chara was methodically ripping their pages into tiny little strips! Books are good victims, books make delightfully unresistant victims who defiantly do not surprise Chara with sudden displays of terrifying emotionless murder. No, books just sort of lie there and smell nice while Chara tears them to shreds.

They like to consider themselves quite fond of books. 

Its not that they're afraid really (they'd die before they ever admit to something like that) but they are...uneasy, high strung, perhaps a little maniac in their actions. 

Kids aren't supposed to act like that. Kids shouldn't get the look in their eyes that only adult-

Rip. Tear. Another line of nicely blurred words destroyed. Crumpled. Thrown down the stairs before them. Repeat. Repeat. 

They are fine. 

Comments

[itstheend]

Hey, Chara, guess who! It's your second least favourite person. Or your first, depending how you look at things.

This Chara is also fond of books. Libraries and their contents have been one of their sole refuges for a long time. And they appear to be witnessing a murder.

So while ordinarily they might have given their other self a wide berth and taken another route, today they continue padding down the stairs, carrying their own tome at their chest. They stop enough steps up that they're still comfortable, and speak, evenly.

"What are you doing?"

It's a mistake, they know, the moment they've said it. Revealing you care about anything, even to the degree of being annoyed by the destruction of books, is a mistake. They don't have any illusions this other them will stop, especially not on their behalf. This is a question they already know the answer to.

Still, what are you doing?

[characlysmic]

Wow!! Just the person they wanted to see right now!! They look up with a glare and a twisted lip and very pointedly tear a good three pages in half, the crumpled ball of paper sailing past the other Chara's head in the next few seconds. Chew on that, me.

What are you doing? Don't you have some hair trigger murder attempts to attend to? Maybe slaughter a village of puppies for barking too loud?

This Chara is currently filling the top three slots for least favorite, being both a) weird and creepy, b) human and c) Chara themselves. In general, they just want them to fuck right off. They also want to stab them some more, a petty desire to start the fight with the upper hand this time and win.

They think what they are doing is fairly obvious. They are destroying a book for fun because they are a monster with no regard for others or their possessions. They'd have thought a Chara would be smart enough to realize this from the get go.

[itstheend]

[Chara reacts on pure reflex, snapping their head to the side at the small white thing flying towards them. It takes two good long seconds of suddenly racing heart and lowered stance to realise and remember; not a bullet. They're holding a book on plants, not a Torn Notebook.

They get destroying other people's things for fun but books, other self, really? They don't even make as much of satisfying sound as things like windows or vases.

They smile and take a single step down the stairs; a fair warning that they intend to pass, they think.]

If I recall correctly I spared you.

[In other words, the implicit threat: if they'd been attempting to kill the other Chara they would have succeeded. Nevermind that they did not have as much control over themself as they would have liked, there. They won't contest the hair trigger aspect.]

Of course, if you wish me to correct this, I may consider it.

[And by consider it, they mean sure! They'd love to. Frisk sends a pulse of disapproval at them, but nothing more. They have that 'silently watching from the sidelines' feel to them, at the moment.]

[characlysmic]

You ended a fight you started! Man, gee! What a saint! I should be on my knees praying to be blessed with your mercy time and time again huh?


Oh hello knife, when did you get into this hand of Chara's. They might not be some sort of stab master but they sure are quick on the draw huh. They wonder if they threw this if the other Chara would flinch. Now that makes them smile. Not so tough are you huh? But then they'd have no knife either so they discard the thought as stupid. They'll just hold onto this and hope it makes em look scary for now.

They place the books down and stand knife tapping against a banister. Their body language is the same forced casual its always been but the underlining message could be summed up as "you're gonna have to make me get out of the way".

Actually. I think I'm going to stop you right here buddy! I don't really appreciate the way you've been treating me at all, attacking me when I was starting a conversation and everything! I think I deserve an apology!

[itstheend]

I started? So were you trying to smash my face into the ground as a gesture of friendship? My apologies, I must have misinterpreted!

[It's one of the most sarcastic sorries in the history of the universe, but there you go, other self! As sweet and polite in tone as anything, and delivered with a smile.

The knife gives them pause, and their grip shifts soundlessly on the book. It's quite a good book. Thick enough to grip as well as such an unwieldy thing can be, heavy enough to have weight behind it on a swing, and if any blood gets on the leather cover it won't ruin the words inside. It could probably stop a blade, they think.

*Chara, you don't have to go down these stairs, remember?
*You can always go back and go around.

Yeah, no. They're not giving this other them any sort of sense of power over them, and that includes any they'd get from Chara 'running' away. They step forward again. The staircase is wide enough for two people to walk up, side by side, but weapons and personal space problems complicate the issue.]

[characlysmic]

They wave the knife in Chara's direction dismissively.

That was barely a tap! It's not my fault you wanted to be a crybaby about it! If you can't stand a bit of rough housing then you're a really really pathetic version of me y'know? I didn't assume you were that weak when we first met and all, I must have misinterpreted. Soooo sooorry.

God mocking their other self's prim accent is fun. Speak like you have a mouth full of marbles like a normal person sheesh. They step to the side smoothly to block Chara's passing with a grin. Hello. No. Back the fuck off bucko. The knife gleams in their hand.}

[itstheend]

Nevertheless, it did suggest that a battle was what you were after. It is not my fault if the results scared you. If you can't stand a bit of rough housing then you're a really really pathetic version of me, are you not?

[Well there was an attempt at the accent on the last sentence. The serve has been returned and it's now in your court. The judge just went 'ooooh'.

Chara's eyes drift down to the other Chara's knife. That's the major problem here.

With one hand they swing the book both at it and the hand holding it as they step forward a last time. Move or get walked right into, mirror. They're betting you hate interpersonal contact as much as they do.]

You've been met with a Chara-ble fate haven't you?| Responses Open! (Cw! death, dissociation)

[characlysmic]

Oh isn't that something? Shouldn't this other Chara of all people know how absolutely worthless intent was?

They're still clutching the knife white knuckled grip as the other Chara slips past them. They stare in shock as the over falls as they avoid the punch, it'd almost be funny, watching them go down as comically as if they'd slipped on a banana peel.

They watch as the Chara's head hits the floor with a crack. They ignore the obvious signs, they grip the knife harder and wait. They wait for them to get up.

The other Chara doesn't get up at all.

Their thoughts are an oddly quiet buzz as they descend, a calm before whatever storm awaits. There's an air of unreality to the scene. They look at the state of the other Chara's limbs and giggle.

Their giggle turns into a laugh and a laugh into a wheeze and.... and they can't fucking sto-

The last time they'd done this, they recall dimly as they nudge whatever's left of Chara with a ratty sneaker, the knife had been a lot bloodier. Shouldn't they be wearing a different sweater? The scene is wrong, its all all wrong, it shouldn't be them lying there at all, aren't they the one who was supposed to win?

Of course, they had won! They dunno much about how LV works but they're plenty sure there's enough in their system to keep them nice and numb for a good long while! But that doesn't really help the sense of wrongness that is the sight of their own dead body.

Is that even them lying there? Is this even them standing here? If they're dead, but they've got the knife what does that make them? They can't remember how they got here. They don't....the y they dun n o......

Their body (not the one on the ground the one they seem to be in somehow) moves without their input, kneeling down. The knife is in their hand, cold and gleaming and unnaturally clean. Oh, that's right, they've got to do this again don't they? There's a system to these things. With a grim slash across the throat, they finish the job, if there was even one to finish. What? Why did they do that? Who did that?

ptsd/dissociation tw (electric boogaloo)

[dustless]

Who was tearing books to pieces? They can't think of anyone who'd actually want to do that. Except Killer Croc, maybe, and...they need to talk to him, even if it makes them uneasy, to say the least. But they need to. It's important.

They follow the trail of paper across the floor. They hear something drifting from the nearby stairs, too...laughter. Laughter. Not the funny kind. Bad laughter. They're good at recognizing that by now.

Frisk goes to the top of the stairs, and looks down, and

they see

they see

they see--

(they're on the floor. They're lying there. It's me. It's you. It's me. The knife's there. The knife's soaked and filthy and their back's screaming their chest's screaming

THEY CAN'T GIVE UP

CHARA CHARA CHARA

the blade is in their throat



they're bleeding. they're drowning in it.



they can't do this again.)

Frisk's body lurches forward of its own accord. Down the stairs. They can't breathe.

cw: more dissociation (angst train woop woop)

[characlysmic]

Nobody here is breathing well, the other Chara's shoulders shake with breathless wheezing laughter. They don't appear to have noticed Frisk's entrance yet, eyes glued to the other child on the floor.

The knife is now sufficiently bloody, enough to appease Chara's memories. They feel a little better now. Completion. A job done again. They suppose there should be another mountain to climb? But that's 'tupid, they're in a castle right now. Why are they in a castle again. ahahah aha ah a why are they even here?

They're standing before they can even fully process it, grabbing their double by the collar. They don't look at their own face, they stare at the floor instead. They fist around, looking for a locket. Its them, so they should have it, they need it.

Where is it....where is it...

They do a frisk of the chara's entire body, palms slippery and red with their own blood but they can't find. the. fucking. locket!

They may be panicking a tiny bit over this fact.

[dustless]

They're at the bottom of the stairs. They don't remember going down them, but they must've, because there's blood all over their shoes.

"Chara," they say, or said, holding out their hand. They don't know why they're doing that. Trying to grab them or push them away from the other Chara, but it ends up just hanging there in the air. The most inappropriate offer for a high-five in the universe, a bit of their mind thinks.

"Chara?" they repeat/ed numbly.

Everything's got a delay. That's. Not good.

[characlysmic]

The noise makes them twist and turn, wide eye meeting Frisks own. Oh, a kid. Looks kind of like them, but wrong sweater. Funny. Really funny. Ha ha. Hey kid wanna see a dead body? Its Chara's!

Some part of their mind must be alert enough to do a quick analysis. Kid's short, has a weird empty look (stop looking stop looking!), unarmed, safe, are they safe? Chara doesn't know. They see a hand approaching and they don't have to know, their hand is already moving.

The slash itself is clumsy, trembling hands flinging the blade haphazardly at an instinctive threat. They'd feel bad, if they really felt like feeling anything right now.

Not. Chara.

Well hello voice? What a pleasure to seeya again! Chara(?) doesn't know what they're really talking about but it sounds right. They can't be Chara after all. Chara's dead. They've got "Chara" all over the front of their sweater.

[dustless]

Different sweater, too many stripes, wrong colors. They're wearing a big green scarf, too, isn't that weird?

Pure reflex has them dodging, hand pulled back and dancing back up a few steps. They've died enough, they're not in the mood, they promised a long time ago to be careful.

The extra spike they get from it brings them a bit more back into their body, at least.

"Not Chara." They don't get it, but that's...fine. Or doesn't matter much. More that. "Why...?"

[characlysmic]

The scarf is weird. Normally, they'd be considering taking it for the kicks, maybe just to see how Now all they have eyes for is the kids body language. To shocked, to small to be a real threat really, they'd ignore them, but turning their back to anyone sounded pretty hecking terrible right now. The knife remains level and pointed at the other human, even if they make no move to attack.

They flick an eye back down at Chara. Well they would have thought that was obvious.

Just killed Chara. 's not me.

you asked for it. (p.s.: 100% okay with hijacking to punish pitch for dickery)

[boogerman]

So much of what he loves in the air tonight, so so much. He springs out of a shadow, lanky and tall and knowing he'll feel strong in a few minutes--and just in time to see the child slice through their copy's throat. Why, he doesn't know, and why doesn't matter. It's a delicious treat and he didn't have to do a thing. It's nice when other people do all the work for him.

He can practically feel when the kiddo's mind seems to snap. In proper Nightmare King style, he does nothing... only joins Chara in laughter, throwing his head back and cackling at nobody, at nothing. This castle is a treasure, with everyone so broken.

[characlysmic]

They practically leap out of their skin, eyes blow wide as they round on the sudden appearance of another. He's tall and spooky looking, like villains some of the stories with pictures they managed to scrounge out of libraries when they still had the patience to try. But that's not what matters, what matter is that he's and adult and that he saw . No no no no no somebody saw somebody saw bad kid bad bad bad bad they need to-they-they gotta..shit shit shit!!

Their thoughts case each other around in circles, expression fixed in the same empty gazed smile. While the knife trembles in their hand as they turn onto their elbows and hold it up at him, their face remains eerily still. THey need to get away. They need to fight. They need to claw this guys eyes out and they need to find a safe place to hide.

It takes them a few moments to remember how words work, and even then their own voice sounds tinny and far away.

W-who 'r you.

[boogerman]

He taps his foot, resisting the urge to jitterbug around like a loon. That might ruin the moment a bit. There's not a shred of guilt in his cold black heart for what he's doing, it feels too good underneath his skin.

"I'm the Nightmare King!" He lunges forward, hands reaching out like he's going to grab the child--"Boo."

[characlysmic]

Well he certainly makes their mind up for them! At the lunge their eyes widen and they scrabble backward with a slash of the knife. No no no nonO!! They're almost shocked out of their daze, eyes finally gaining a bit of clarity.

'ck off!!! Leave me alone!!!

But they don't run. Oh no! Theirs a twitch in their hands and a red haze in their soul and they're pretty damned fucking determined to stand their ground. They just killed themselves asshole, whats gonna stop them from doing the same to you?? Chara's freaking dead they're just some wretched little thing with a knife.

[boogerman]

He's bigger. He's faster. He's bound to be stronger. And if he does die, he'll be back in days, like he always comes back. So what does he care? Come at him if you have the guts, kiddo.

"Someone's been bad."

He steps around the living Chara to look at the dead one, leaving footprints and smudges where his socks (?) seem to have soaked up some of the blood. If he is wearing socks, that is. There's no diving line between his pants and whatever's covering his feet. It wouldn't matter to a soul if it didn't make him look like he was wearing pajamas underneath his robe all the time.

nothing in canon can stop me from believing that pitch wears crocs 24/7 and i think thats beautiful

[characlysmic]

Well yes. Sure. But they've killed adults before and they'll do it again. Whats the worst that could happen?? They'll die too?? The knife makes another attempt at contact. The way this guy looks, they wonder if he bleeds black.

Hee hee. Someones been bad. Someones been bad. Man, if they haven't heard that line before! Well they're not gonna wait around to see what he'll do about it. They're about to be a whole lot worse!!!

When he steps around they lunge again, aiming for the knees. Hahah it almost looks like they're defending their own dead body.

Fuck off!!

Not the most eloquent of replies, but hey they never watched enough anime to learn any good zingers for these moments.

spoilers kinda oops

[ifyoumustblink]

[he's seen death before; a lot of it for a kid his age, in so short a time. his mother, twice. his father. his aunts. and many, many villagers.

it made him hate the moon king. he hated with a fierce rawness, enough to provide a driving desire to murder his own grandfather. he supposes that would have made him a sinner, and the other gods would have looked down upon him for it.

he didn't care. he still doesn't.

he sees

a body standing over a body. there's so much blood. (red, his favorite color.) what's going on? (he has yet to see the castle doubles, triples, quads.) this must be some kind of illusion. spirits, perhaps, and definitely magic.

but the fact is that someone's dead. again.

but he tries to be compassionate. the moon king was a monster, he knew, and all he cared about was the perfection he would kill his own children over but this kid, child, child, he doesn't know. he wanted to kill too, because his family was dead and it was his fault. this kid, they must have done this for a reason.

he tries to he compassionate. right now he feels very, very quiet. (that's a lot of blood.) and scared. that's a knife. knives cut through paper. he must keep his head, however; he's faced his aunts. he can do this. (though he did have two fighters at the time.)]

s… so.

[Pause.]

what happened?

nah its cool i watched it in theatures!

[characlysmic]

The other kid whips around and tilts their head at him, birdlike. They stare, a beat, a beat longer, thump thump thump, like a heart. Their face splits into a rictus grin.

It's a good question, something in their head buzzes. What had happened? Why were they doing this? They dunno, they guess! But theres blood on their sweater and their own body under their hands and so they suppose murder was just something they were meant to do today. Nobody would ever kill without a reason right?

That seems like kind of'a shitty question. Somebody's dead.
They grin wide wide wide, jaw aching. Oh, so their voice is talking without them again. That's fine they guess.

I'm dead! 's not that important how.

The knife rests in their hand after all, the deed should be quite obvious.

[ifyoumustblink]

[He's staring. stop staring. Stop trembling.

His fingers twitch. He doesn't have the sword all he has is an instrument and a little sharp bachi and hopefully he won't need it but who knows. Somebody's dead. (Somebody's dead.) They're smiling. Their eyes are red. Protection against demons and the expulsion thereof. Red. Disease. Protection against demons.

They're dead. Horrible horrible horrible.

He takes a step back.]

W-why, did you kill...?

[yourself? That can't be right.

Because they must have a reason no matter how sinister, his aunts wanted revenge and his grandfather wanted balance and Kubo wanted justice. No one should kill out of the blue. Foreign child with paler skin, with brown-hair-not-black, bright red eyes, something happened, something happened besides being dead.

they're smiling, and he can't help but verge on screaming.]

cw: child abuse

[characlysmic]

If Chara could hear this other kids thoughts they'd never stop laughing. Red eyes aren't protection idiot. Red eyes are cold nights locked outdoors and jeers that become fights and cold water to hide bruises and the knowledge that no matter how good you are or how pretty you pretend nobodies going to ever fucking come you brat so stop crying and-. Red eyes just mean you're always going to end up in situations exactly like this!

They tilt their head again, hair flopping over. Their grin is white and bright as a sunrise.

Does it matter?

Their voice is chirpy their normal drawl turning more lilting.

Maybe I dunno. Maybe I'm just a demon. Must be, cuz I'm dead. Maybe I'm taking their place.

[ifyoumustblink]

[White. Mourning.

Demon. That can't be right. Or maybe--maybe, with how odd this situation is because obviously that's another them down there. Demons and tricksters and spirits, oh, how well-versed he is in those. A demon, a shapeshifting yokai to take the place of a child. Disease, then.

(No, a demon for a demon. He's seen their face before, he'd forgotten.)

He doesn't know what to do. But obviously this is the wrong place at the wrong time and he needs to get out before he loses his head, perhaps literally. Kubo backs away. His breath is faster than he'd like, his bones shake, his fingers brush the sharp edge of the bachi hanging from his belt.]

That--that can't be right. You're not dead.

[But are they? They're right there on the ground.]