castle_perrault | a different sort of carol

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undertale

a different sort of carol

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..."

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They bow their head, apologizing in body language as well as voice. "Okay. I'm sorry." They're Frisk, they're supposed to be safe. (And usually are.)

The chimes are tapped another couple times, gently filling the room, and they nod. "Sure. I'm not good, though. You can sit next to me if you want to."

It's only a few strides and a careful step over a fallen cello to the nearest bench and piano. They thump down on it the wrong way around and spin on their butt, because they're Frisk, they're safe and a goof.

Carefully not watching what Chara chooses to do, they start off with just playing the scale, forwards and backwards a couple of times.

It's... strange, being apologised to in such a way. It's strange, and they're not sure they like it. There's a little relief when the other moves on. Really, it was nothing. Just Chara jumping at shadows again.

They follow, but they step around the cello rather than over it - an old superstition; treat tools with respect. They make an odd choked barking noise when Frisk spins - the result of trying to not show an amusement they didn't expect or ask for.

They stand and listen to the scales, and then they carefully pull up a chair next to, but at a safe-feeling distance. They try to be quiet about it, but there's inevitable scraping, and their head is ducked the entire time. Don't mind them.

They sit onto it, and turn their head towards the other, before looking back down at the keys, cheeks red for what seems like the fifteenth time while they fuss with their sleeves. They're ready, but it's up to Frisk if they want to play more.

Edited (tidying the end) 2017-03-01 20:28 (UTC)

Frisk smiles. It's small, and they're not exactly happy that Chara didn't directly join them. Not that it's particularly unexpected. They were hoping with their duet--

...but that was just hoping. It'll take more than that for real trust to happen.

They start out with Shyren's Song, since that's what they do most when they're playing, and it's not that hard.

"I dunno any with words," Frisk says, staring into the middle distance. There's a songbook balanced in front of their face, except of course they can't read it. "Piano songs. Sorry." Another apology, though they're still smiling. Chara should have better entertainment...

Serif hummed them a song once. A weird one, one they still have twisted feelings playing because it came from Gaster. His Gaster. But it's something they know how to play well now, practicing for Serif too, since he told them it calmed him down.

Pause, fingers hovering over the keys. "I got this one from...someone very important to me." It's not an easy song, and they lift their hands up a little higher.

And they play.

With the duet, it was somewhat more obvious that Frisk wanted them to join in - here it never even occured to them as an option, even leaving aside personal space distance.

Honestly, that Frisk can play any songs at all is a source of amazement to Chara - it shows in their expression. They're not just listening politely, or because that's the thing to do.

Frisk begins their second song, and they listen as raptly as they feel they can get away with. There's a lot of skill here, they think. They lose themself in the music a little, and once more start humming with it.

It feels... they don't know how to put it. Dark. Mysterious. They wonder who the important person was, and they wait until the end of the song to ask.

The song isn't a short one--it can be, but there are parts that loop, parts that Frisk catches their mind and fingers on. Hypnotic repetition. It's no wonder Chara starts humming along, a thing that stretches Frisk's smile wider.

"It's from Serif. He's a skeleton," they say once they're asked, still resting their hands on the keys. "Dunno if you've met him yet. But he's...he comes from a scary, bad place, but he's got a home here. We're family now."

Frisk turns, looking at Chara rather than nothing. It takes a moment for their eyes to focus. "That was the one good thing he brought along once he got here, 'sides him. I play it 'cause he likes it."

Edited 2017-03-02 02:34 (UTC)

Chara shakes their head, just a little. "I am afraid the only skeleton I have met here is Doctor Gaster. I was not aware there were more."

There's no particular rancor in the name - they haven't experienced the act that gave rise to their hate. Their caution is that they'd greet any adult with, even monster ones. Is Serif one, or a kid?

A scary, bad place. Chara wonders what that must be like - they can't think of their own situation with those descriptors, at this point in time. It's difficult even when they can, they just make the effort.

"That is good to hear," they say, because they can't think of anything else. "I can only hope he does not return to it."

Him. Curiosity presses at them, but they tilt their head rather than ask outright. They've been getting away with a lot as it is.

"Oh. That one's alright." The one that's younger, too, and a Sans' dad.

Frisk presses down on a key. Then another, and another, slowly and only with their fingertips. Looks sort of like they're tiny walking legs.

"Me too. 'M glad he's here. And," straightforwardly, "you too." Even if they don't know exactly where and what Chara's from, or Chara's own thoughts on it, they're one-hundred percent confident the castle's better for them.

And it's easier to concentrate on the Chara in front of them than remember what happened when a part of Serif went back with his brother.

Frisk mirrors their headtilt. They don't realize how odd their own phrasing was.

Glad for Chara to be here? Does not compute, unless the other wants something from them. They've been very nice, so far, too nice, and Chara will weather whatever's coming. They have to, their yellow spark suppressed with the red.

"I am glad you are here, too," they respond with, and wonder if that was too much. They're not entirely glad, for the aforementioned reason, but they can just try and enjoy this for as long as it lasts.

The other headtilts as well and it's... odd. They mimic people, consciously or unconsciously, but people don't really do the same towards them. There's a flicker of something, the small weak flares that happen occasionally and are usually suppressed, and Chara tilts their head the other way to see if the other will follow that too, like a mirror.

"Thanks." They appreciate hearing something positive, though Chara doesn't have the same reasons. Unless they just took a stab in the dark. Frisk has been talking about how nice it is here a lot, after all.

...Chara tilts their head the other way. Frisk blinks and does indeed follow the motion, lips curving up again. What's this, then?

Mirroring can take several forms. Camouflage is part of this Chara's suite of survival skills.

Oh, the other does copy it! Chara is something they can only pinpoint as along the lines of pleased, when that happens, enough the momentum continues. They try to mimic the smile too, to keep the match, but even though it comes easier than usual they somewhat fail - it's too wide, and too stretched.

They don't notice, and with a little daring lean a little to the side. Will that happen again?

(Children of many species play at skills they'll use when older.)

Still a smile, still counts in this...copying game.

Chara leans to the side; Frisk matches it, and unintentionally somewhat fail as well, going just a bit too far. Hands that were still awkwardly splayed over the keys drop down, clinging to the underside of the piano bench. Fortunately, they don't quite tilt far enough to topple everything over.

Frisk sticks the tip of their tongue out the side of their mouth.

Chara blinks and straightens their back as the other seems like they're going to fall, but Frisk catches themself before they can make any further response, and seems fine, so they don't. They do make a mental note against trying that again - this playing feels like it's on eggshells, and they don't want to ruin whatever is happening here.

They respond in kind with their own tongue, with the demeanour of someone sneaking something from the cookie jar, and wriggle it a little, before ducking their head and looking away.

They're keeping the other Frisk's reaction out of the corner of their eye, however.

Frisk mirrors those movements, too, adding a bleeeeh noise when they wiggle their tongue back, and giggling when they duck their head away.

This is ridiculously silly. They think they love it.

Chara snorts at the bleh, a thick noise in the back of their sinuses, and clamps a hand over their nose at the undignified of it (not that this really is describable as dignified to start with but shhh).

That feeling in their chest is getting stronger and hotter, and they don't know what to do with it, other than that they suddenly burn with an itch to do something to keep this going, like spinning a top to keep it from falling down.

They reach over, and press their finger down on one of the piano keys, feeling slightly giddy and slightly not here at all.

This sort of feels like an early game with Serif. That alone would be enough to keep Frisk going, even if they didn't care about this Chara.

Frisk matches again, pressing a single key in front of them.

And then they press one that's a little closer to Chara.

And then they press one that's right in front of Chara before withdrawing again.

There's a decision fork here, and it's whether to mirror the movements with respect to Frisk, or to press the exact same keys. With wild abandon, Chara chooses the latter, and adds two extra notes to the end, chosen entirely at random - it isn't really a melody, although it doesn't sound bad.

There's occasional flicks of the eyes towards the other, because it's rude to stare but Chara needs to keep a bead on the other's disposition, but their smile, while somewhat manic, isn't edged with extreme stress.

(Just normal levels of this-Chara stress.)

Frisk places a crooked finger on their chin, projecting that they're thinking.

This might be nicer if they knew how to play music just by looking at the keys instead of having to touch them, feel exactly which note's where, 'cause they'd like to teach Chara how to play in this little copy-game.

Frisk matches them, their own key-presses, the two more, and then two more. A copy game into a memory game, maybe! A puzzle.

If there's one thing Chara is good at, it's memorising things, even if sometimes they can't trust their own ability to. The pattern is easily copied without hesitation or flaw, and added to in turn, with the minutest pause before three more notes are sounded out, adding the black keys in.

There's a dead and buried competitive streak getting dusted off. Who can last the longest? The urge is to throw it, to keep the other kid happy, but Chara is swept up in this now, poking this entire situation with a stick.

The feeling of a number going up.

Oh--those are new, and maybe they'll even be a problem--obviously, Frisk knows which side has which sound on the entire keyboard, but they almost never use the black keys on their own, outside of the one they play for Serif. (Mostly because their fingers are a little too short when they're playing actual songs.)

Not yet, though. The novelty of it's enough to get them to match after a pause, add those three.

As well as words--wait, no, it's not a part of the game itself, just a comment, a whisper with a smile at the keys. "Guess we're making a song together anyway."

And two more, tapping black keys furthest to the right.

Edited 2017-03-21 09:42 (UTC)

"I suppose you are right," Chara says, sounding a little surprised. Does this really count as a song? Well, if Frisk says so.

With the increased number of notes, it's getting harder, but they complete the extra two with only minor hesitation (and some having to lean over) before adding four more, trying to pick ones that fit the rest, now, instead of at random. They turn their head to the other as they play.

"What would it be called?"

Songs have names, do they not?

...Well.

"Um." Now they're splitting their concentration between note recall and naming conventions. There's a noticeable hesitation in their hands before they add Chara's extra notes.

They're better than Asgore and Asriel at least, or so they hope. "A...a...a friend's copy game?" Frisk says. "Don't usually name mine. You can pick one if you want."

The kid that is, in another universe, completely fine with being retroactively named Butts isn't going to object to Frisk's choice regardless of their own personal opinion on it - they offered it to them, after all.

They're not going to offer an alternative either. Don't rock the boat, Chara.

"A friend's copy game..." they repeat, and have to dip their head again because they... can't really count as a friend, can they? Sure, they did some things together that friends in books and movies do but. That doesn't just make someone your friend, does it? There's other things involved, surely. Like actually being human.

But it's been weirdly... nice, so far. And even though they feel horrible for indulging while they can, even though they know there's probably a catch coming, well. That's what selfish creatures like them do, isn't it?

"It fits," they tell the other, looking not quite at them, and the voice is very small to keep it even.

Their fingers slip on one of the notes in repetition, a discordant sound, and they look down at the keys.

"Oh."

They've lost, even if they were trying not to this time.

Frisk wins.

They also spy Chara's head-dip, and they wonder if they're the first person to ever call Chara a friend. It makes them ache, but it doesn't exactly surprise them. (It's half of why they even said it.)

They barely acknowledge their own win--that wasn't the point of it, after all. They reach out to copy the notes again anyway, and then they lean back to look around the rest of the room. There's so much stuff in here. "Do you want t' try another instrument? I dunno if this copy game was fair, 'cause I'm used to practicing more than you."

Edited 2017-03-27 22:34 (UTC)

Not the first person to call Chara a friend, no. But perhaps the first to mean it. Even now, Chara is waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the amusement of toying with them to dry up and for them to be (metaphorically, and perhaps literally), kicked out into the cold once more. They're resigned to it - they'll make the most of it while it lasts.

Kids can be cruel.

Chara copies the notes again, out of pure reflex. They mirror to camouflage by nature. They don't add any more, and turn a little so observe the rest of the array of instruments. It's an amount of choice that's worrisome, but they don't believe not picking one to really be an option. This strange kid suggested it, and they want to stay on the strange kid's good side.

"What would you... recommend?" They've been in the music room at school, and they read, and they watch shows that they can sneak. They could name quite a few of these, and have a basic idea of how they worked. But that certainly doesn't seem like enough, in this moment. It's a balancing act, because they're not stupid. They know they only get so many free passes in pitching the choice back to the asker. There's only so many times before it gets noticed, and only so many after that before it irritates. Think, Chara.

"What is one you do not know? A game would be fair then, would it not?"

That's better, isn't it?

"I just know the piano. The stuff with...y'know. The push--the keys." Once again, Frisk glances longingly at the massive organ in the back. Once again, it's judged as far too loud for far too early, and far too easily unsettled company besides.

They shift their legs around until their back's facing the keys, and the rest of them is peering out between the rest of the instruments and back to Chara every so often.

Frisk's aware of Chara carefully picking out their own words, but they're not sure exactly how, and it hasn't occurred to them that any of it could be seen as irritating by either of them. And they really can't decide. "So I'm...so I dunno. Do any look like fun t' you?" If not, then Frisk supposes they can close their eyes and point somewhere.

a different sort of carol

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