a different sort of carol

[dustless]

 Ever since last month, getting all that Determination poured into them by accident with Chara, Frisk's felt...different. 

Better. Mood-wise, a little, and physically. More energy.

A stronger voice.

They default to being quiet still with other people; being louder is jarring even when they're alone. They don't mind it. It isn't fully healed, anyway, and it probably won't ever be, but it lasts longer before it hurts, and even more before it gave out. 

But they didn't realize how much better it was until they'd been taking care of a much smaller Chara, sharing a room, deciding to help them when they didn't seem to be able to get to sleep...and sang to them. A n old lullaby they remembered from when they were their age, despite not knowing the language and having to hum and croon most of it. It worked, and they'd sat there for a while as it really hit them.

There was a reason they treasured the memory of their concert with Shyren, why they remembered her song even now, and MTT's theme, and the music box--they love music, they loved singing. But they couldn't do it for so long--they'd been sad about it sometimes, but they had other things to do, and the room full of instruments to play with eventually.

And now they can again.

Long after settling their little Chara to bed, Frisk steals out of their room and follows the music that's already there in the distance, the carols. There's a flash of hope that they can maybe find them, or at least make out the lyrics--but no, still not quite.

But that's okay.

They find their way onto a balcony overlooking the gardens. It's a nice enough stage, they think, but they probably won't disturb anyone out here. Who'd be resting in the gardens in this temperature? Even in the near-dark, they can see their breath fog out the stars.

What should they sing...?

Well. Why not a song about singing? One they remember distantly from some children's show they heard long ago--whatever it was, they can't remember, but they remember the lyrics. Or most of them.

So...they do.

A little off-key, a little shakier than it should be, but it's definitely not nothing.



"S-sing...sing a song...
Sing out loud,
Sing out strong..."

Comments

[mercybutton]

Singing. Like their voice, but not theirs. And they love music, love it like the sky and the sea, it's part of why they practice guitar so doggedly--and they itch very much to join in but what if that's rude???? But coming in with surprise accompaniment is a cool thing to do right?? And the people here are much nicer than anyone they've ever met, it's incredible really.

So they trot off to the place they woke in--a tower room with messy blankets on the bed and a somewhat-poorly-tuned guitar by it, and after some fiddling with the pegs it sounds good enough that they think it won't be off-key.

Frisk sits practically all the way across the garden in front of a small, open window. They try to memorize the melody--try to form a harmony in sync with the approximate rhythm…

♩ ♬♬ ♫♩♭♩

[dustless]

Frisk trips over the lyrics, pausing to listen, just for a moment. Another carol? Except, to their growing delight, they realize it matches. Not perfect, but they're not searching for perfection.

They lean against the balcony's edge and continue the best they can.

"Sing...sing a song...
Make it simple,
to last your whole life long!
Don't worry that it's not good enough,
for anyone else to hear!
Just sing..."

They strain their ears, turning their lyrics into a question with a quick pitch change. It doesn't sound great with the rest of the rhythm, but they can't resist:

"Sing a song?"

Won't you sing with them too, stranger?

[mercybutton]

Sing?

Well, they were never at all that proud of their voice well admittedly the other isn't so great either but they're going at it anyway. Even still… singing when they don't quite know the words seems like a bad idea. They'd much rather let the guitar do the singing. An invite is an invite, though, and rude to refuse, so they resort to humming. Humming barely heard, soft and high, but humming nonetheless.

"hmm, hm mm hm."
♫♫♪♪ ♩♭♫♭♫♭♩

[dustless]

So far away, they can't hear it, even straining their ears. That's alright. The stranger's probably shy. Or, it occurs too late, right, probably don't know the lyrics.

Frisk keeps going.

"Let the whole world sing along,
Sing of love that there could be,
Sing for you and sing for me.
Just sing...
Sing a song."

They shift forward until their entire torso's hanging off the balcony.

"You're good at music!" Frisk calls to the stranger in lieu of repeating the chorus again. If the other's too shy to keep going, then they will. Maybe they'll make up a bunch of lyrics!

[mercybutton]

The guitar is startled, playing a loud, sharp note that twangs in the air like someone might have tripped, or maybe stumbled on their words.

Frisk almost drops their guitar. Probably would have if not for the straps. They lean forward from where they are and call back up, loud as they can muster--which is about talking level because they're still skittish all the same.

"… oh--tha-anks?"

(They don't believe them.)

And maybe they'll realize, it sounds almost just like them.

[dustless]

The noise is abrupt enough that Frisk nearly laughs. It might not be funny, though, so they clamp down on it hard, and they keep looking for the voice. "Welcome!"

...The voice they might kind of know. Something about it's incredibly familiar. So either a Chara or a Frisk.

Time for some slightly shout-y (on their end, at least) conversation. "Did you get a music room guitar?"

[mercybutton]

"n… don't be mad?"

Because that's technically stealing right. It didn't seem like anyone owned it but then again what if, is someone looking for it, are they looking for it oh god??? They didn't mean to steal.

[mettaton_rex]

In fact, someone is resting out in the gardens, but he's not asleep. Just lying on the ground, looking up at the actual stars and thinking of home, and of the future. He has a lot to think about right now.

It takes a little while to realise the music is coming from somewhere that's not his own memories. He follows the sound, curious - this doesn't seem to be the mysterious carollers who he's never been able to find.

And it turns out it's a human child, up on one of the balconies. Once they finish - well, he can't really applaud, being insubstantial and not really having hands as such, so he calls up to them instead. "Bravo, darling! That was a beautiful performance."

He means it. A little off-key, sure, but they clearly put their whole heart into it. That's the main thing.

[dustless]

Darling has them looking down quickly, prepared to share a shining grin with a Mettaton--but...it's a ghost!

They tilt their head, smile slightly smaller than the one they had planned, but still entirely genuine. "Thank you! Think I got some 'f the lyrics wrong, though," they admit with a (very, very slightly nervous) giggle.

[mettaton_rex]

He floats up toward the balcony, so they won't have to keep raising their voices. "Well, I wouldn't have known. Keep it up, and you could be a star someday!"

[dustless]

There's room for him to get onto the balcony, and to hover besides even if he couldn't, but Frisk takes a step back to give him space anyway.

"Maaaaaybe," they draw the word out. "I've got lots to learn, though. I think."

[itstheend]

Who indeed would be resting in the gardens in this temperature?

It seems even two years younger, Chara has a tolerance for cold. They've been in and out of the Castle just for the (strange, new, terrifying) possibility that they can, without being told and without being asked and without being reprimanded, and outside has less people.

They shouldn't feel that way, they shouldn't, but each conversation here is a battle where half the rules don't seem to apply anymore.

They hear music.

Someone's singing, and they find themselves drawn to it, slowely winding their cautious way over. It's dark, so it's hard to tell who's singing. They only met this Frisk once, to their knowledge, so they can't place the voice.

At the end of it, they clap, not loudly, but courteously.

[dustless]

They freeze in surprise, hands in the air--they hadn't even noticed they were waving them in the first place, as if conducting a symphony. They suppose they were. A soundtrack only in their head.

Frisk takes a step to the edge, peering into the garden. It's too dark with all the trees and tall bushes casting shadows even the moonlight doesn't reach. They hope whoever-it-is can see them, and they bow low, left hand still in the air and one pressed against their chest. They aren't sure what that might mean, but they're pretty sure they've seen fancy people do that after playing music.

"Thanks! Thank you, thank you!" They're still searching for movement, though a lot of their thoughts are occupied with their abrupt scrabbling for something else, another song they know the lyrics to rather than only the tune.

[itstheend]

As Frisk moves closer to the edge, they step into the moonlight, and Chara can see them bow. They finish their trek with a little more assurance, stepping into a patch of moonlight themself. It's only fair they do the same, after all.

They have the brief, odd urge to climb up to the balcony. They shake it away.

"You are very talented!" they shout up instead, as loud as they'll allow themself to go. Which is barely just loud enough to carry up there, and maybe not loud enough to be fully distinct.

[dustless]

Coming up with something is hard when they know they've got eyes on them. Words. If they were humming or posing or dancing, it probably would've been easy to keep going.

The reveal of who it is happens to be a helpful distraction, and Frisk moves from the graceful bow to some wild waving. "Chara! Hi! Can't hear you?"

[itstheend]

Chara waves up in return, their hand falling. They glance around at the surroundings - left, right, up at the Castle, before cupping their hands over their mouth, still looking uneasy.

"I said, you're very talented!"

They're trying to match the volume at which Frisk shouted down, because clearly that worked. Their cheeks are reddening, but that's probably just the cold and anyway, their cheeks are naturally red.

[dustless]

Frisk considers perching on the balcony's edge, but it's icy enough that they figure it's a bad idea for now.

"Thanks! D'you want to join me?" they ask mischievously, though they're quick to add "Or jus' have me sing more? I don't know what songs you know, but I think...think I can make some up!"

[lostinmyway]

"Sing of good things, not bad....
Sing of happy, not sad!"

Grune beams as she sings along with...whoever it is that's singing in the garden with her. Or are they above her?

Wherever they are, it's nice to have company while she stargazes.

[dustless]

There's a single sharp clap of delight that somebody knows that song too!

It's easier for them to tell the general position of where the singing is coming from, and they poke their head into the air, trying to find her. They think they know that voice.

"Sing...sing a song,
and make it simple,
to last your whole life long..."

[oldmantiger]

He definitely can't rest in the gardens in this temperature, but Kotetsu is still heading that way anyway. He has his own room - and his own roommate - but he's still too wound up to sleep. So, after waiting for Barnaby to doze off, after making sure that the younger boy was all tucked in, Kotetsu had bundled his new coat around himself and headed off that way.

He stops when he hears the singing, though. At first, he's mostly confused because he kind of recognizes that voice, and they...hadn't really seemed like the kind of kid to sing before.

But then he realizes that he knows that song. He thinks he must have heard it once on one of his mom's records...

He creeps nearer. And as he does so, Kotetsu becomes more and more certain that he does know this song. How had it gone...?

He doesn't give voice to the words. But he hums to himself, as he peeks around the corner to glimpse Frisk standing out there on the balcony.

[dustless]

"Sing, sing a song--
Make it simple, so it can last
your whole life long!"

It might not help that Frisk doesn't remember the lyrics quite as well as they think they do.

They pause for breath and catch a noise. Their song, but not their own voice echoing.

They keep silent, trying to figure out where it's coming from without turning their head to look.

[oldmantiger]

"Good enough for anyone
else to hear
Just sing, sing a song."

It makes him think of his mom, dusting or doing dishes or weeding but nevertheless always somehow knowing if he was trying to sneak out of doing his homework in the living room. A profoundly homey sort of thought that makes a lump rise in his throat and yet makes him smile wistfully at the same time.

So it takes Kotetsu a second to realize that Frisk has fallen silent, but once he does, it doesn't take much more to realize that he's the one responsible for that. Oops. He feels his face redden with embarrassment, even without being looked at. "S-Sorry," he stammers, inching a little further around the edge of the archway. "I just..."

...he can't really think of a reason for why he was singing with them that doesn't sound dumb or too childish even for a child. So he changes the subject instead. "Are you from Sternbild? My Mom has a record of that song. A band from Sternbild sang it in a concert once."

[dustless]

Sternbild...Sternbild. It takes a moment to click.

"No, sorry. 'S a really old song where an' when I'm from," they answer, shifting just enough to see the other kid's silhouette.

Not Barnaby-bunny, so...Kotetsu.

"Out here! We can sing it together! If you want." They wave their hand cheerfully. Come on.

[oldmantiger]

Kotetsu looks like he wants to take them up on it for a moment...but then he visibly catches himself, and shakes his head.

"N-No, that's okay," he says. He knows what works for him and what doesn't. Music definitely won't. Or at least, he hasn't learned yet that it most definitely will and can. "I can't really sing. And I was just going to..."

There is no way to explain his plan that won't sound unforgivably weird.

"...get some more firewood. Our room was getting kinda cold."

Their room does not have a fireplace.

Still, he's not without manners, so the boy adds: "My name's Kotetsu, by the way. What's yours'?" Even if they look almost exactly like that other kid, it's only polite to ask, right?

[dustless]

"...really? Well, you can always come practice with me later," they assure him, finally turning to face him fully. "I need it too. Can't get better if you don't try!"

Welp. Kotetsu makes it sound like he needs help, and what're they but helpful? "Know where there's a bunch!"

So saying, they do a silly half-skip-half-shuffle right up to--and then past--him, waving him to follow. "An' I'm Frisk!"