[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

[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."