Frisk twists and circles around them both, not watching Pitch disappear, even if the sound he made makes their chest tight despite everything.
(It's still you.)
They stop and stoop by Chara-and-Frisk's body, picking the shovel up. "Sorry," Frisk tells them, because the shovel landed on their arm. They can't feel it, probably can't hear it, but they don't care. Feels better than not.
Jack's still here, and they don't want that. They step around again, too late, standing protectively in front of the corpse. Blocking it. "You too," they demand roughly, holding the shovel the same way he does his staff.
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:'I
Date: 2016-11-20 09:11 pm (UTC)(It's still you.)
They stop and stoop by Chara-and-Frisk's body, picking the shovel up. "Sorry," Frisk tells them, because the shovel landed on their arm. They can't feel it, probably can't hear it, but they don't care. Feels better than not.
Jack's still here, and they don't want that. They step around again, too late, standing protectively in front of the corpse. Blocking it. "You too," they demand roughly, holding the shovel the same way he does his staff.