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]

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.