thunderbolts and lightning

[collectyourfriends]

Over and around one half of the Castle, the skies are filled with grey and rumbling thunder, growing greater and louder until--

Lightning explodes, throwing the edges of everything into sharp relief. Not from the sky, from a tower, the very top of one, something stands. A beast--a dog larger than any dog should be, blue and yellow, roaring a challenge at the clouds. Lightning arcs from it, back to it, and all that does is seemingly make it angrier.

If anyone comes close enough to check, that is.

If they do...

A child wearing a bandanna isn't far, off on the--roof, they guess, where they could walk from that tower to another without having to step a foot inside.

Not that Frisk's about to do that. They're not in any mood to be running, they've had enough of it, they're aching all over from when they fell. All the times they fell. Undyne's spears weren't easy to avoid; like Papyrus, like...Toriel, she wouldn't flee from a Roar.

And they wouldn't let Sparks fight her, either. He wanted to--still wants to! But she's a monster, and they don't want another death on their hands or his paws, which would inevitably be the result. Especially since she's something near water-type, according to Papyrus. 

Who's gone again, but they're less worried about it this time around, that's just...the Castle. He didn't know they'd left in the first place.

It's good that they're here. It's giving them time to rest, relax--they're sitting down, digging into some of their Berry stash, watching Sparks direct his rage at the sky, which is also helpful. He's getting his aggression out, which means less risk of lashing out, and again, less death. And less worry about their team wanting to battle each other, which is possible but doesn't end well--or end, leading to friendly-but-real fights being reignited at random intervals for months.

Frisk doesn't expect to be here longer than a day and a half again; they're just going to hang out up here until they're brought back.

Comments

[itstheend]

If monster food can heal humans, maybe something designed to heal pokemon could? It is a mystery.

Chara twitches at the sounds of the items being dropped near them, flickers of consciousness beginning to starburst like the lights in front of them when they open their eyes a sliver with a groan. There's a glazed, unfocused cast to them; looks like a concussion. Their head got cracked pretty hard against the wall.

They make an attempt to get up and slump back down, ears ringing, breathing thin and shallow. Their chest hurts. They feel like they've gone and gotten run over by a truck, and they can't remember why.

They blink. There's blue and yellow in front of them. That means something. It's important.

[collectyourfriends]

Frisk tosses one of the Rawsts over their shoulder, hearing Sparks snap it up from the midair.

The kid seems to be waking up on their own. Not quickly or well, but it saves them from having to try methods they haven't before. Berries, for Frisk, are tried and true.

"Hey. Here." They shift over to kneel, pressing the yellow rind towards their lips. "This'll help. It's good, eat it." A Sitrus is a nice blend of all kinds of flavors, though lacking spice. Frisk and their team enjoy it as a favorite, hopefully they will too.

[itstheend]

Their blurry gaze slides over to the talking shape over them. Their thoughts are cotton wool. Their movements are twitchy and fumbling as they take the berry purely by reflex - aftereffects of being rammed by what is effectively a living taser.

And then two realisations kick in.

One, that's a human. Right up close in their personal space. Second, that's the lightning dog, also right up in their personal space.

They, to politely put it, flip out, scrambling away as much as their numb, lagging muscles allow. Their head throbs madly when they smack it back against the wall.

They stare at the dog, keeping a wary eye on it, and then back to the human - the Frisk, maybe? There's similarities. They glare at them and then down at the fruit in their hand, ripping a piece off and throwing it at them.

Prove it's safe. They don't trust people at the best of times, but especially not after getting trounced by their... pet? Companion?

[collectyourfriends]

The kid certainly has the right sweater for it, though their eyes are a pale red that some might think don't suit them.

Frisk catches it. "You shouldn't throw stuff at people." Not like that. First the shoe at Sparks, now the Sitrus at them. It's a bad habit.

They flick the piece of berry over their shoulder, too. Not going to waste it. Sparks hooks it with his front teeth, tilting his head back to let it fall down his throat. Beyond that, he doesn't move.

Neither does Frisk, except to sit back on their legs and...watch them. They don't want to let them go running off all in the red like this.

"You really beat him up."

is it a gen 3 or beyond Sitrus?

[itstheend]

It is a perfectly viable way to communicate and shut up. But the electric canine's eaten the fruit with no hesitation, so unless the animal has immunities Chara doesn't know about, it should be safe.

They bite into it. It's... odd. Not the weirdest thing they've ever eaten. But definitely a unique taste. It seems to be some kind of monster food, because they can definitely feel their health returning. The fog clears a little. They can feel Frisk waking up too, a series of groggy question-marks.

They spit out a seed (before it can dissolve, they think) and pocket it. A minor case of their interest in botany rearing it's head. Maybe they can try and look it up in the library later.

Their gaze returns to the human (or another demon? This place seems to attact them) sullenly, and they slowly sign, emphasizing each word and glaring at both.

[I simply wanted him to stop the thunder.]

It just... escalated. Badly.

beyond~

[collectyourfriends]

They stare blankly. "...I don't...know...that stuff." Conventional sign language, they mean. Maybe the castle'll help translate for them later, but for now, they're just strange hand movements and glaring.

Frisk fishes around in their bag for a few more, holding them out, and continues. "You're tough. You should be more careful anyway." They're not unimpressed with how hard they managed to fight, they just think the entire situation was stupid and shouldn't have happened. But it did, so maybe that means it won't again.

At least Sparks is calmer. He did get what he wanted, and the worst--the burn--that's been treated. He grins when Chara's looking, oddly humanlike and genuine.

Once their hands are empty again, they scoot towards Sparks and carefully grab what's sticking from his back. "Your stuff's there," they add, nodding at the boot and other knife resting on the floor, yanking out the first in a single swift movement.

He rumbles, yellow sparks flickering up their arms, but he's being careful and they're used to it enough not to react much. They brush the blanket off, though not before wiping off some of the red on the blade.

And then they're holding the knife out, too, for Chara to take. It's the kid's, after all. They're not a thief when they don't need to be.

[itstheend]

They exhale and take the fruit, pocketing them and chewing one while they jab a finger at the lightning dog (wipe that smile off your snout - they roll their eyes at it) and then at their ear, and then repeat the throat-cutting motion.

*Well, it worked?
*And nobody died!

Ever the glass half-full.

*And you've made new friends! Sort of.

They can feel their HP maxed out in just two more fruits, but any overflow is remaining in their pockets. You gave them, they're gone. They lean away at the growl and the arcing lightning, keeping a weather eye; nothing untoward eventuates. They snatch the knife, avoiding the other demon's (???) face, hastily pulling the shoe and other knife towards them with their feet. They slide their wet sock into one and bring the second up to meet it's twin, fastidiously starting to re-clean the blades on their sweater for something to do with their hands.

After a few moments of this they look up and, leaving the knives in their lap, pick up the torch to smear it into the floor and snuff out the few remaining embers with one hand, while jerking their thumb and head towards the canine with the other.

What's the deal with you two? You clearly know each other, but how do you bleed red and where did you get those weird plants?

It's a very expressive thumb.

[collectyourfriends]

What do humans--Frisk specifically--do when they want to be a little insulting? He lets his tongue loll out. Blep.

They've got plenty of Sitrus, which is great 'cause they're using more on Sparks. Plus a curvy Mago for themselves that they were eating before the runaround.

Wait, wait, forgot something. Tongue still out, Sparks rolls onto his back, looking for all the world like he wants a belly rub, and that's what they think for a moment before noticing the stick still jutting from his stomach.

They let the end of the Mago hang from their mouth gracelessly as they feel around. It's in there pretty deep, only a couple inches sticking out, and half of it's splintering and slick, tough to get a hold on. Hmm...

They pull off their bandanna, glancing up just in time to get some of that expressive gesture, and shove the rest of the berry into their mouth before continuing. They don't want to spay juice over his wounds, that's not how it works.

"This...is Sparks. He's a Manectric. My..." they choose their word carefully, remembering how Tauriel reacted last time they were here. "...teammate. And a Pokémon, not an animal."

Frisk wraps the bandanna around their hand, getting a grip on the stick. It'll take more than one yank to get it out, they can tell already. "Sorry," they mutter to him. Brace yourself.

[itstheend]

From within, Frisk delightedly and entirely metaphorically bleps back. Chara for their part just huffs and pointedly turns their head away. Blocked, blocked, blocked. Both of you are blocked.

Chara regards the human's attempts to remove the stick closely, but makes no move to help. It's possible the knives could help... but they're loath to give them up, and they doubt Sparks would appreciate any more contact from them.

*Pet him!

No.

They sit back on their haunches, and watch.

[collectyourfriends]

The first few tugs are fruitless, pulling out nothing more than quiet whines. Sparks' paws curl.

"It's...really in there." A question posed as a comment, even if the other kid can't answer, and Sparks doesn't have the concentration to either. Feels...weird not to. They're in the company of another human, after all, and usually humans don't enjoy long stretches of silence much. (One of several reasons they prefer being around Pokémon.) Humans usually aren't tough enough to do this kind of damage with a stick, either.

Sparks whines a little louder, eye rolling pointedly away from Chara. There's embarrassment in the motion. Not that it tells them anything.

Frisk moves their position until one knee's pressing into his chest. Sorry, sorry, but it's a necessary angle. More charges worm up their arm, inside and out, which really doesn't help the situation. "Come on," they mutter through gritted teeth.

[itstheend]

Chara considers, then taps on the floor to get the other's attention, before ramming a palm onto a finger. It was Spark's own strength that did this, in a way. They were merely the facilitator.

They get to their feet with a rustle of cloth as the Frisk(?) braces and attempts again, settling to a crouch by Spark's head and dropping the extinct torch by his head, close enough to reach. Something to bite, rushes probably easier than hard wood.

Wipe that nonexistent expression away, Frisk.

They test the edges of their knives, take the sharpest, and start whittling away at the broken tip of the pole, increasing the sharpness of the tip and stripping off the splinters. They poke the other with it, briefly, before holding it out. Use this as a lever.

They don't have enough medical knowledge to know that sometimes a vaccuum can form in flesh, but they do have a little personal experience in trying to pull spears out of themself.

[collectyourfriends]

That gets them a glance, and a bit of understanding. They're still somewhat expecting the end of the stick to have an arrow- or spear-point.

Sparks jerks his head to the side. Yes, the fight's over, but that burn made him rather shy--it reeks of fuel and flame even if it's out. He manages to knock Frisk's grip loose and twisting the stick inside himself. Their lips draw back in a mute snarl as they readjust. "Careful." Stay still.

The sharpened stick gets Chara a long look. "My hands're busy. Do you know what you're doing with that?" There's room for them if they dare to get closer, but Frisk isn't expecting that they will.

[itstheend]

Chara stares at Sparks, and then kicks the dead torch down the hall, leaving a charcoal mark on the floor. Well then.

They motion for the other to move aside a little - interpersonal contact, even accidental, is not something they want here - and slowly, carefully, hold the pole close to the tip and slide it down the length of the impaling stick until it, too, enters the wound, just a little.

Honestly, twelve year olds doing surgery is probably not the best idea. They glance at the demon to make sure they're pulling, and pull back as well. Ideally the second stick should act as a third grip, but who knows what's happening here.

[collectyourfriends]

He stays tense. More at the new intrusion than Chara's presence, though he's aware they could get revenge if they want. With the time it took for the haze of a good fight to fade, it sunk in how clearly they didn't like it.

The second one sinks in, more red welling up to spill over fuur. It's strangely gummier than blood should be.

Frisk finds it somehow harder for a moment, but in frustration they give up on the grip with one hand and force a finger inside between the sticks. Sparks rumbles lowly in pain, but it seems to work--several inches slide out in one fluid movement.

This also makes another charge thrum up their arm. Hopefully Chara's more than a few inches away, or some might arc from Frisk's elbow right to them.

[itstheend]

Perhaps in another universe, Chara would love a good scrap. That would be a Chara that has never truly been in a battle where life is on the line.

Strangely, revenge is not on their mind. Throw a boot at a dog, get bit. This was a natural consequence. Even if he's not an animal by the other's instruction, he's enough like one that Chara is unconsciously giving him more leeway than they ordinarily would. The Snowdin Guards are the same way.

Instead, they watch as part of the stick slides out. Well then, all that has to be done is to repeat that, and hope the splinters left inside won't be too much of a concern. They communicate this to the other with a circling of the index finger of their free hand.

They flinch when the electricity hits, a muscle spasm which jerks the second stick within Sparks, likely aggravating the wound.

Whoops.

[collectyourfriends]

Circling? 'Again', they assume, but Frisk doesn't have time try for any more clarification.

Sparks has had enough of this, jolting and quickly rolling to his feet, enough to buffet Frisk to the side--they've got enough of a grip on the first stick that it doesn't slip from their fingers, but actually finally exits the wound.

He takes a jump to the side, away from the humans both and growling an exasperated note. Done. The other stick's still hanging from inside his skin, but far less deeply than the first.

Frisk sighs. "Can't leave that there," they tell him before their eyes slide back to Chara.

They stare awkwardly for a moment. "...Thanks."

[itstheend]

Chara waves dismissively at them. Don't thank them. No really, don't.

They look towards where the second stick still protrudes, but make no move to take it out, instead motioning for bandanna-Frisk (Bandisk? No.) to give them the first. The strange texture of the blood is something they want to check. A confirmation of the senses, as is often required.

And a sort of dual-split shadow. One of those impulses that's as much their Frisk as them for unknown reason. The kind Chara hates and Frisk ignores.

[collectyourfriends]

Don't be modest, you didn't need to help.

They reach out to grab the second stick--Sparks jumps away further. "Really?"

They shift to kneel again, then to stand, not touching the ground with their hand. There's plenty of red that soaked through the bandanna against their skin, and they idly think they should go out to clean it off. The thunder's quieted, but rain's still slapping against the windows.

Ah. Other kid wants their stick back? They aren't sure why, but it's theirs, so Frisk hands it over easily before turning to him again--who also jumps again. "Sparks--" He starts padding away.

Seems they've got a little chase to do. Alright, then--they follow.

The red clings to any surface it's on, Chara's hands included. Smells weird.

and then this leads into the overload : D

[itstheend]

It's not modesty so much as. They are the one responsible for the stick being there in the first place. 'Didn't need to help, but did' is useless as a qualifier of virtue to them, in that light. Congratulations, you weren't as terrible as you could have been, Chara! You didn't add insult to injury!

It falls flat.

Chara takes it, and watches the chase begin, making no move to follow, or to say goodbye, even if Frisk is waving farewell inside of them and nudging them to let it occur in the physical. That went... overall well, perhaps. They've come out with full health, an extra weapon, and the thunder has stopped, at least for now.

The red smears on their palm and they look at it. It holds its color in a way blood doesn't.

*It... feels familiar.

As they watch, the substance suddenly glows, evaporating into red mist, and then nothing. They run their hand down the stake, and soon it's gone entirely.

Neither of them know what this means, but Frisk's sense of foreboding is infectious. Chara hurriedly gets up and goes, in the opposite direction as the two left.