castle_perrault | [event][open] past brought forwards

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

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?"

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?

...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."

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.

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?"

"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.

"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?"

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?

"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."

"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.

Edited (word repetition) 2017-02-03 11:03 (UTC)

"...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.

"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.

[event][open] past brought forwards

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aaron do Not

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'dubious' aaron ur twelve

what are you, twelve?

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(they're a bit antisocial whoops)