[event][open] past brought forwards

[exuviiated]

note: due to not wanting to hurt myself too much emotionally, narration will be correct. aaron still looks very much like not a boy though.

He wakes up somewhere he's never seen before. He's not even in a bed-- he's in a pile of blankets in what appears to be a giant library. There's a backpack next to him, a sketchpad filled with notes, and...

nothing much else. He picks himself off of the blankets and adjusts his shirt, and then makes his way out of the library and through the halls. It's early morning, early enough that the sun isn't gracing the horizon in more than a pale blue glow visible through the windows. Handling stairs is a struggle, as always, with his bandages-- he manages to reach each open room with little more than strained breath. He ends up in the kitchen. No surprises there; it's warm and as clean as a castle kitchen can get, and it's more likely people will filter in throughout the day. He grabs himself a cup of some sort of juice (cranberry, a sip confirms) and sits himself down on a stool in the corner, and waits.

Comments

[dustless]

It's early enough that Frisk's barely awake, stiffly wandering the halls. They've just grabbed a blanket, but they haven't quite managed to adjust it for maximum warmth.

They'd been outside when the storm hit. It's the least pleasant awakening they've had since fighting Flowey.

They see the silhouette of somebody in a room they're shuffling past, and they make a tiny noise of greeting without really looking at them.

[exuviiated]

Aaron should have thought of taking on of the blankets, but by now he's safely in the warm kitchen.

Someone else wanders by, and he almost calls out-- decides against it. Changes his mind when they initiate, as haphazard as it is.

"Hey. Are you here for no reason too?"

[dustless]

They hum. Well, it starts as a hum, ends in a weird shuddery groan. It's an agreement, probably? And they poke their face in.

"'S there any warm stuff in there?" Frisk means food.

[exuviiated]

"Uh, yeah. It's in the drawers and there's some in the cabinet up there." He points to the icebox as well. "And in there, but it's... it's just a lot of raw meat."

He doesn't press an introduction, both seemingly feeling their way around the other, an understanding wariness.

[dustless]

"Raw's not warm," they mumble, and start digging through the drawers. They don't want to cook.

It takes a minute for them to notice they don't know this person.

"Um, morning. Hello. Did you have any...thing?"

[exuviiated]

He shrugs, finger playing in shoulder-length hair-- twisting it around, tugging it, anxious hands kept constantly busy.

"Not hungry." He cracks a smile. "Too lazy to make anything."

Never mind that there is a bowl of fruit sitting innocently on the counter, which Frisk could likely get to.

[dustless]

Him playing with his has them reaching to their own.

"That's not warm either. I was outside and got snowed on," they explain to the stranger. And...they're just sick of fruit. "...Can cook stuff, I guess." They'd rather do that and wait to eat the fruit, yes, so they amble across the room and open the ice box just long enough to grab something bird-ish on a hook.

[exuviiated]

Aaron waits patiently, perhaps a little creepily with how intensely he tracks Frisks' movements. Hand in their hair. Gait. He stays on his chair and holds his cup of water in his lap.

"...do you need any help?"

He might as well make himself useful. Sitting around never helped anybody.

[dustless]

Frisk drops the bird(?) carcass on the table, trying not to look at it directly. At least it doesn't have a head.

"I can do it. 'F you want, you can, though."

The drawer they open next scrapes, grating against their ears. They twitch. Annoying.

There's matches in there, though, which is nice and useful. They draw out two. "Um...you look new. Are you okay?"

[exuviiated]

"Huh?" He'd slipped into contemplative silence; Frisk's voice snapped him back to the stone and warmth of the kitchen, out of Gotham's smog and chill. He misses it-- wants to go back. Not necessarily home, but back.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine." He's not fine. The lie still comes far too easily.

"So, what's your name? How long have you been here?"

[dustless]

The metal door scrapes open, too, but quieter. Looks like somebody's already stocked it with wood.

"'M Frisk..." and the new person's already starting with questions most people don't like. Even if the 'I'm fine' is true.

They strike the match with a flourish and drop it into the stove. "...'bout a year."

[exuviiated]

"...a year." So this wasn't just a temporary thing. He might be stuck here forever, potentially. It causes his heart to skip a beat, frantic. He pushes it aside. "'s a long time."

His eyes flicker to the flames, content to watch them instead of Frisk.

"Ever tried to get off of here?"

[dustless]

"Not me. Other people. Don't fight the monsters, they're nice," they add quickly. "Didn't work. You, um...if you fly, you end up over the castle again, and there's nothing down."

They get a metal stick thing (poker) and start prodding the logs. It'll be a while before it's hot enough to actually cook anything, but they'll get more heat to balance that out.

[exuviiated]

"Oh." Looks like there really is nothing. He'll have to dig through the library he woke up in and investigate further, if the library has anything other than... everything else. He

"...monsters? Are they scary?" That's a little rude, isn't it. Another thing to search the books for.

[dustless]

Rude, but not that surprising. They brush it off. Best the stranger's talking to them instead of being rude to a friend's face.

"They can look like it. There's some skeleton monsters, but they're my family. And a nice goat lady somewhere, Toriel, she likes taking care of kids. And a goopy guy called Dr. Gaster. They're all cool."

lol the fire's probably fine he's just Anxiety

[exuviiated]

"...okay." He notices the fire get frighteningly high-- is Frisk paying attention?" "Uh, Frisk, the fire?"

...he hasn't introduced himself. Kind of doesn't want to, so he'll steer the conversation to the fire.

dude plz

[dustless]

"Huh?" They glance back at it. "Um, it's supposed to get...more. Like that. So it can cook and stuff. Ever-never use this kind?"

Frisk doesn't quite think of getting the stranger's name yet.

[exuviiated]

"That's dangerous," he says, very matter-of-factly. "No, my family uses electric ovens. This could light something on fire."

He should just stop talking-- he hasn't said anything friendly or nice, and now that he's realizing it he feels awful. "Uh, I mean, it's not my type but I guess the fire's pretty."

[dustless]

"It could. I kinda wish there were electric ones here," they agree with a nod.

To them, he hasn't seemed the slightest bit rude.

"It'd make stuff cook faster, too. I think. I miss microwaves more." Maybe they shouldn't be having a nostalgia trip right in front of a new person, but that thought occurs a little too late. They busy themselves by poking the stove logs a little more.

[exuviiated]

"...yeah." He leans back, looks up at the ceiling, and then goes back to staring politely at the flames that lap against the stove walls. "Where did you come from before this?"

He immediately bites his tongue, because his own curiosity is getting the better of him. "...here, let me chop some vegetables or something."

[dustless]

They mention a city he's never heard of, an add "By Mt. Ebott," just in case.

Vegetables...? "Okay. We can make a stew!" Frisk perks up.

[exuviiated]

"Okay." That, he can do. "I'll get a cutting board. There's knives in the block over there. The rest are all dulled."

He'd checked.

"I know the layout. I'll set everything up if you take care of the meat."

[dustless]

"Okay!" Lots of 'okay's here. "...s'not gonna have--be much for anything for me to do, though. Meat's not fast."

They do grab him a knife, though, yanking it free of the block with an unnecessarily dramatic flourish.

[exuviiated]

Aaron can't help but hold his hands together as Frisk entirely too enthusiastically tugs a knife from the block and brandishes it at him.

He takes it. "Sounds good to me."

[itstheend]

There's a lot of kitchens in this place.

That's okay with Frisk. That means there's a lot of food. They've been cramming their pocketsful with it, as well as a backpack they found in one of the rooms that may be sliiiightly familiar-looking to Aaron.

They notice him when they step in, but they spend some time looking at everything else first, opening and closing cupboards and turning the tap on in the sink - they accidentally ended up touching raw meat, they have to get the blood off their hands - before approaching him with a small wave.

[exuviiated]

The castle is all decked out for Christmas. It makes Aaron's skin crawl, so he's escaped to the only place where unabashed festivity surrenders to plain utility. It's cozy, smells good, and there's a tray of sugar cookies resting on top of the furthest counter, but there isn't a decoration in sight beyond a sprig of holly tacked to the wooden door.

He watches Frisk for a second or two, then deems it impolite and goes back to setting his hair to neat braids, tucking them back and up with bobby pins that he'd found digging through the cabinets. Why the denizens of the castle had bobby pins in the kitchen, he didn't know-- they'd been conjured up at some point. While he wonders, he's too grateful to question.

He waves back once they acknowledge his presence. A clump of hair falls down from behind his ear, and he pushes it back.

"Hey. Is there... is there anything in there that isn't raw?"

[itstheend]

Frisk has yet to experience a Gyftmas, so the decorations are odd to them too. They've been largely ignoring them.

"No," they say in answer, after watching him pin his hair up. They don't seem surprised by the kitchen's choice of stock. They don't seem much of anything. They hold out a hand, curling their fingers in and out meaningfully. Give them one? Then, belatedly, they add: "Hi."

They think for a bit before rummaging in their backpack (theirs now, finders keepers), and withdrawing a sugar cookie, holding it out to him, their eyebrows raised a little. Here, take it? It's not raw meat?

[exuviiated]

...that's the backpack he woke up with. He feels a sneaking sense of familiarity to it, but not enough to challenge ownership.

The cookie is accepted.

"...thank you." He sits up straighter, and sets the cookie down on his lap. Holding it there with one hand, waiting to see whether Frisk will indulge first. "This place is..." He looks around, eyes darting from area to area. "Big."

[itstheend]

Frisk doesn't grab a cookie for themself - they're saving the rest for later. They nod at the thanks, and then jump up to sit on the kitchen table, legs dangling.

"Mmhm," they say at the comment, spreading their arms wide. They haven't been able to find the same place twice (because it keeps shifting around but shhh).

They let their top half fall backward onto the table, looking up at the ceiling. "N' weird," they tell it.

[exuviiated]

Aaron doesn't want to be rude. Really. But he also wants to get out of this place and so far absolutely nobody knows a way. It's--

it's annoying, and frustrating, and it seems like any second he's going to dissolve into a nervous puddle. Not a homesick one, though. There's that to be grateful for!

"Yeah. This place is creepy. Like it's too good to be true, you now?"

[itstheend]

"Too much Christmas," Frisk observes, still to the ceiling.

They can't really comment on places that seem too good to be true, because that's what the Underground has been to them, too. They're still waiting on the other shoe to drop, both there and here.

They sit up, and kick their legs back and forth, looking at him. "Could be worse."

Many things could be worse.

aaron do Not

[exuviiated]

"Christmas was just stolen from pagan winter rituals, anyways." Does he sound bitter? Yes. Yes he does. "At least the cookies are good."

In Aaron's humble opinion, the fact that they were unable to leave should a disaster take hold is the other shoe dropping in itself. "By the way, have you seen anyone else? Like the people that did all this?"

[itstheend]

Wow, that's a vehemence that has a story behind it, they think. They blink slowly at him, wordlessly inviting him to elaborate, but they're not too fussed if he doesn't.

"Mmmnope," they say succinctly in response to the question, jumping down from the table and heading under it. "Just taken people." They think. They can't be sure. It's... something?

'dubious' aaron ur twelve

[exuviiated]

"Huh. Maybe they're the ones?" He's only seen kids around, though, and any adults might not want to put in the effort to beautify a castle for a bunch of children running around.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, even under these dubious circumstances."

what are you, twelve?

[itstheend]

"Dunno," Frisk says, half disinterestedly, and half reserving judgement. They're more bothered with the is rather than the whys and hows at the moment, although they wouldn't say no to knowing.

They reach up and... grab the tablecloth and slowly begin to pull it. A great deal of objects start inexorably moving to the edge of the table.

Frisk makes a small wave with the hand not currently occupied with this. "Mmhm. Same." The tone on the last word is a shade warmer than the usual blunt stolidness they've been employing. He seems nice so far, even if he's human.

[exuviiated]

"...alright then." He'll... leave them to their destruction. With a final check to his hair to make sure that it's pinned neatly up out of the way, he stands. "I'm going to go outside."

It is, however, an unspoken invitation to join him.

(they're a bit antisocial whoops)

[itstheend]

"K."

Invitation to join him or not, Frisk has lost interest already. They wave a farewell, and it's friendly enough, but rather preoccupied. They're making their own entertainment, as it's so often put.

They keep tugging, and the first few harbinger pieces of cutlery begin to fall before the entire thing comes down in a crashing waterfall of cloth and tableware. And with that, everything they can think to do in this place has been done.

They come out from under the table and head out the door.