*Smells familiar.
Nov. 19th, 2016 06:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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castle_perrault[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.
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.
(no subject)
Date: 2017-01-17 08:23 pm (UTC)Unbidden, thoughts of the other human SOULS in their containers rise.
Frisk wonders where they went.
...The hole ends up a tiny bit deeper than it necessarily has to be, lost in thought and not-thought as they keep ending up. Not that it's a problem or anything.
They toss the shovel off to the side for later, ignoring the clang it makes when it bounces on a rock. "Okay. You should...um, move."
(no subject)
Date: 2017-01-27 01:13 am (UTC)Then his gaze slides sideways, to where the body is still just barely visible over the edge of the hole. "ah." He looks embarrassed. "right. gotcha."
The hole fortunately isn't too deep for him to clamber out of. Sans does so, looks again at the body, then hastily looks away. He winds up taking a seat on the other side of the grave, settling down to wait and rest. Even only using his hands, that was still way more work than he's used to putting in on any given day. His arms and legs ache down to the marrow.