Frisk (ᗩᑌ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
collectyourfriends) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
castle_perrault2017-01-07 02:21 pm
collectyourfriends) wrote in castle_perrault2017-01-07 02:21 pm
Entry tags:
[event] Level...down?
There's a green-and-yellow something streaking through the hallways, a massive trail of silver tinsel and the smell of static following in its wake.
A few moments after that, there's the sound of someone yelling in the distance--a child.
"No! No no no no no Sparks no stop!"
And sometimes Sparks does stop.
And waits for that little voice to catch up.
And every time, every time, he stays until the tiny child almost gets to him before turning and snapping his teeth at their hands and arms, and then he's off again.
Frisk is getting tired of this. Frisk's getting tired. They're so cold, in just a pair of long shorts and a T-shirt that says You're Numero Articuno! (They don't get the irony.) They'd rather be playing out in the snow anyway, 'cause they've never got to before, but they can't, because Sparks is being an extra jerk.
They've already got a collection of bloody marks on their arm, lines that end in dots--the unique bite of the Electrike line. It looks really weird, and feels even weirder, all tingly with the aftereffects of electricity.
Not that any of that'll stop them. They're going to catch up to it and give it a good scolding for wrecking peoples' stuff--the tinsel, the wreathes, the candles, some of the doors. Naughty naughty.
//warning that uh yeah, if your character gets in sparks' way he will probably attack them. it won't be too damaging but it won't be particularly fun either :V
A few moments after that, there's the sound of someone yelling in the distance--a child.
"No! No no no no no Sparks no stop!"
And sometimes Sparks does stop.
And waits for that little voice to catch up.
And every time, every time, he stays until the tiny child almost gets to him before turning and snapping his teeth at their hands and arms, and then he's off again.
Frisk is getting tired of this. Frisk's getting tired. They're so cold, in just a pair of long shorts and a T-shirt that says You're Numero Articuno! (They don't get the irony.) They'd rather be playing out in the snow anyway, 'cause they've never got to before, but they can't, because Sparks is being an extra jerk.
They've already got a collection of bloody marks on their arm, lines that end in dots--the unique bite of the Electrike line. It looks really weird, and feels even weirder, all tingly with the aftereffects of electricity.
Not that any of that'll stop them. They're going to catch up to it and give it a good scolding for wrecking peoples' stuff--the tinsel, the wreathes, the candles, some of the doors. Naughty naughty.
//warning that uh yeah, if your character gets in sparks' way he will probably attack them. it won't be too damaging but it won't be particularly fun either :V
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Frisk hurtles into view, red eyes wide and their arms held around their own torso. The cold air chafes against their skin painfully, making their own bites sting even worse.
"Sparks!" they shriek. "Bad bad bad Electrike! Let that kid go right now--"
Soon as they get close, Sparks finally lets go of Chara--and goes after them instead. But they're used to this by now, so they jump back and raise their arms like a ballet dancer--can't get them that way!
They miscalculated. Sparks aims at their shin instead, a Quick Attack that'll leave a big bruise and knocks their legs out from under them, sending them crashing onto their side in the snow to lie there, stunned.
Sparks takes this opportunity to grab his fallen tinsel and dart away again.
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(If there's something in Chara that's rooting for the dog, it's quickly snuffed out. That's not a nice thing to think, Chara.)
The dog tinsels off into the horizon, and Chara walks over to the fallen kid with a certain not-looking-forward-to-this reluctance.
"I am sorry," Chara tells the stunned kid, head ducked, attempt at smile on. They give a small, stiff laugh, rubbing the wound in circles with a thumb. "I must have provoked it."
They dither, just a bit, and then thrust out the non-bitten hand towards them, somewhat hoping they don't take the implicit offer.
have fun w/ kid that has 0 bounderies chara
"No--no, you didn't," they say, and--weird, those red eyes are definitely filling with tears, but it's not in their voice at all. "It's okay. It just likes 'testing humans'." That's what Leader Wattson told them, anyway.
Abruptly, they look at the kid's bit hand and make a grab for that one, too, looking close. "You need a bandaid!" they declare. "...Don't have a bandaid. You got to wash it, though!"
their one weakness
The other looks like they're beginning to cry, and Chara has the uncomfortable urge to snap at them to stop it. They don't, and their mouth is open - a further apology, or a bland 'I see' - when their bitten hand is grabbed.
They don't pull away. They breathe in and out, and let it be held, counting the seconds. They somewhat miss the first part of what the kid says, and have that familiar sick lurching fear it was something important. All of this means it takes a while to knock their brain back into gear to process what they did catch and concoct a response.
"I can. Clean it in the snow."
That's possible, right? The cold will numb it. Please let go so they can do that. Please let go.
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In fact, they're pulling them, trying to drag them into the nearest door. They're kind of strong for their size, huh? "No! No soap in the snow." Duh. "Come on! Kit-chen or bath-room, gonna find it!"
Sparks seems forgotten for now.
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This is happening.
The word kitchen manages to stick. Chara was in one earlier. The sooner they find one, the sooner this can stop, perhaps.
"There is one..." this place is a lot larger than they thought. "To the left, I believe."
Their memory scoured turns out to be correct.
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"Sink sink sink?"
They can't see over the counters--even if their eyes weren't watering, they're too little, even though they try jumping a few times.
Well, fine. They just reach over the counter and drag themselves up until they're kneeling on it. Problem solved!
There's certainly a lot of food up there. "Sink?" they repeat, dubiously eyeing a stone bowl set into one of the counters. "Thas notta sink. But there's a hole in the bottom." They wave to get Chara's attention, whether or not they're already looking, and points.
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If they cover one hand with the other, pulling it towards their chest, once Frisk has let go, it's probably because of the bite, right? They walk over to the sink and perfunctorily wash the bite with soap, looking around before drying it on their sweater. They glance at Frisk, eyes flicking up and away just as quickly.
"You are injured too," they observe. They put the soap back on the side of the sink closest to the kid and move their hand away just a little quicker than casual.
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"Oh. You're right!" They'd kind of forgot about that, and they worm their way into a half-lying position before scrubbing their arms. They hum something they've forgotten most of the lyrics to to time it.
They nearly roll off the counter until they swing their legs down at the last second. Now they're staring down at the other kid gravely. "I'm sorry." Seeing as they stretch a hand out towards Chara's head, it's clear they're not apologizing for the touching.
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No, really. They angered the dog. And as for the touch... it's Chara's fault a simple thing like handholding makes their skin crawl. That they're like this.
They watch the hand coming towards their head with the same resigned dread. Can't be rude or weird around other kids, they can smell it. They'll their parents, who'll tell...
It's better, to grin and bear it. But they can't stop their head jerking away a little when contact is made.
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It's gentle, but it's their head. Their enjoyment of touch is pretty much nil everywhere, but that's one of the places it extremely goes into the negatives. It's so, so easy, for a fistful of hair to be taken and pulled...
"Yes," they say, and desperately hope that's relevant to what's being said. The tone was... apologetic? They swallow and try again - "There is no need to apologize." - and only realise after the fact that they've only repeated themself.
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(In the far, far distance, there's jangling.)
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"I... did. There is nothing wrong with me."
They sound like they trying not to tell the biggest fib of their life, posture stiff. They start unconsciously rubbing their bite, notice, and grip their hands tight together.
"Besides, is it not true?"
Isn't it? There really is nothing to be sorry for, isn't there? The jangling catches their attention, and their head snaps towards it.
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...
They stare at the top of Chara's head. "Sparks didn't knock you down so you bumped your head, did it? 'Cause then you're gonna need...need...ummm...ice! To keep the, ummmmm, swill--? The bump-making down." They reach up to hit their own head. It's a pretty solid-sounding strike, too. Frisk, why.
Speaking of Sparks. It takes a while for the jangling to get there, along with additional scraping noises, but...eventually...a green-and-yellow face peers into the room with a longsuffering whine, looking up at Frisk.
"Sparks, y--" and then they start snickering, because Sparks slinks into the room, and he looks ridiculous. For those who know what a Christmas tree is, he seems to have lost a fight with one, tangled in tinsel, ornaments hooked into his fur, a bit of pine branch or maybe a wreathe wrapped around his tail. "Wh--wha--whahahatdidyou--?"
Sparks whines a little louder, deliberately turning to stare at Chara. Do you see what he has to live with, rude.
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"The swelling down," they finish, because they can't not apparently, even if it only makes things worse. "No, they did not. I do not require ice, thank you."
They... the strange dog comes into the room, and Chara coughs, chokes, a stifled bark of a sound. The stare makes their recent bite seem to tingle, but it seems more friendly now. They indulge in sliding a sympathetic glance, a brief slide of the eyes towards and away.
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They unceremoniously fling themselves off the counter, sending a dishcloth flying. "Gotsta get that stuff off!" Frisk kneels and beckons, and it's with much less reluctance that Sparks comes to them. He really does want this stuff off.
They go for the ornaments first, 'cause those probably hurt. And they hurt Frisk--every hook they grab sends out a buzz and a few electrical sparks around their fingers, and after three they've got to blink away tears again.
Undertale: Extreme Undecorating
It doesn't take long to notice Frisk's problem, and they dither a bit before coming over to sit on the other side of the dog (a respectful distance out of immediate fang range) and tentatively tries removing one of the ornaments with the dishcloth wrapped around their hand. There's a buzz and the cloth becomes a little scorched, but the insulating layer works.
"Here," they say, not looking at the kid as they hold it out towards them. "This may help with this."
technically safer than w/ gyftrot
"You keep doing that. With that. S-so your bite and hands don't get messt up more. 'M used to this, good at this, don't," they say determinedly, unwrapping hot tinsel from around Sparks' legs.
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The dishcloth looks like a mess by the time Sparks is free, blackened with a few holes in it. Chara walks over and hangs it, folding it to try and minimise the amount visible. They very, very much hope they do not get in trouble for that.
They look back at the kid, at their fingers in particular, and drag a chair to the sink. "If I may, I would recommend running those under water as well."
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With lots more sincerity, they look up at Chara and smile shakily. "Uh-huh, good idea." They'd wink if they knew how. Was their idea for the big kid first, after all. "Thanks!" The chair is very better than trying to climb up with burning fingers, and they proceed to do as Chara said before washing their hands properly.
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They watch the kid wash their hands, before taking a step back, and another. "If that is all, I think I shall take my leave," they say - they can't think of any reason to stay, and they would very much like to leave the presence of someone who touches so readily, but they, like any demon, must be dismissed.
this poor fucking kid jfc
every moment they live is agony
Their movements as they leave are too brisk to be casual.