*Smells familiar.

[dustless]

[warning for child death, gore, general trauma]

Chara's dead. Chara-and-Frisk.

Slice across the throat. Just the one. Still bad. It makes their own hurt like their scar's peeling open.

But they've got a job to do now, because--Frisk just can't leave them there. To rot. For other people to find.

So they don't.

Takes a lot of work, figuring out how to move their body. Dragging's horrible, even when they thought about using a blanket or something. Carrying them fails, because they're literal dead weight, even if they're pretty scrawny.

In the end, they manage to shift them around until they've got the corpse on their back. The most disgusting and macabre piggyback ride, and Frisk needs to keep being hunched over uncomfortably for it to work, but. It does.

It also leaves them completely covered in blood, especially the half where Chara's head ends up lolling, sending rivulets of red down that side and makes a trail all the way from the bottom of the stairs to the garden. Frisk's not really aware of that. Frisk's not really aware of anything except the steps they need to take.

Bring the body outside, to the garden. Not far from where their body and the first Chara's were buried, actually, though a little more concealed behind a stand of trees. Go get a shovel. Dig.

They won't be able to dig as deep as six feet alone, and they can't build a coffin. Doesn't matter. Frisk just needs to make it big enough for them to fit under the dirt.

Chara-and-Frisk will be back soon enough.






Addendum: one more body, one more burial.

Comments

[dustless]

"It's not." Really, it's not hard to think about, logically (Frisk thinks). They don't want revenge; they want to trust the Chara they'd talked with, to give them a chance. They don't know what happened. They're going to try to figure it out in three days.

"It's...it's not...you don't need to do that. Punish."

[havesomefun]

Jack grits his teeth, feeling a hopeless, helpless ache in his heart at Frisk's continued stubborn refusal. "Yes, I do." There's no holding back the bitterness in his voice, the pent-up anguish that he's taking out in the dirt beneath their feet now that he can't take it out on Pitch. "That's what I am. It's what I'm for. I'm supposed to protect kids! That's why I exist!" He digs the shovel into the dirt hard enough that an edge cracks off of it, and makes a frustrated sort of noise that sounds a little close to a sob. The shovel doesn't heal itself right away.

"And this place already tried to take that from me! It turned me into something like...him." He says the word with enough vehement disgust that Frisk can probably guess who is meant. The dirt starts to freeze up around him. He doesn't seem to have noticed right away.

[dustless]

Mechanically, Frisk keeps digging.

"Jack...it's...no. No, you don't...you don't want to know." They should be reassuring him. They can't.

That frost is getting a little too close. "'F you're gonna freeze where they're gonna get put, you need to go."