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

[dustless]

"Oh." They deflate the slightest bit--but just for a second. "'S okay! I'm still really glad we got to do jus' that. It was great! Said that already, sorry. But it was," they insist, bobbing their head, despite Chara not really saying anything to the contrary.

Frisk covers their mouth for a second. "We could always make one up. Together?" They can't help sounding hopeful. "--mean, if you want. And you don't gotta right now if you think about it, and stuff. I don't really make up good songs, anyway, just silly ones. But that one was kind of. I'm talking lots," they note suddenly. It feels like lots. Maybe because they're talking so fast and with more energy than usual.

They take a deep breath and pause. So Chara can talk more, if they want, without Frisk running over them. They've been staring, too, and it doesn't cross their mind to quit.

[itstheend]

Chara is used to stares, even it they make them uncomfortable, and this is no exception. They accept it, like they accept a lot of things that just happen to them. This is their life.

They catch the deflation and feel that familiar oh-I-did-something-wrong worry, but Frisk seems to rally and they're left to wonder about it. It was great, and it tastes like the other means it. They did something right, evidently.

"How does one... make up a song," they say carefully once the other pauses to breateh, because a ball has been set rolling and it seems it is their task to keep it so, a flicker of... not curiosity, exactly, but tentative exploration.

"I am afraid to say I have no musical experience."

They think there's things like meter and rhythm? Sung poems? They have no idea, and they're scraping their brain hard for anything they can remember.

[dustless]

"Rhyming! Lots of it. That's what I did. They were--just made up lots of silly songs, though, 'bout washing things or walking around and stuff." What was one they did...? "Sky's all grey, sky's not blue, but anyway, I'll just follow you! Did that one when I missed the bus."

They missed the bus a lot. And they usually didn't actually follow it when they did, but that's not the point.

"I don't either. Just sang for fun. I didn't..."

Frisk thinks they know which Chara this is--the one with the Frisk in their head. They don't know if they'll care once they're back, about any of it, but...might as well talk about it a little.

"My throat got really hurt. 'Bout a year ago, and I couldn't sing at all anymore. But there was a--there was somebody that gave me Determination. The red stuff, not the feeling. And it helped fix my throat. 'M really happy, but I gotta practice. Then we can both do it!"

Frisk leans again, resting their elbows on the balcony's edge. The snow's sticking to the jacket they're wearing, and they glance up at the moon. It's only now that they realize...it's really, really late. Not just for a duet, for anything. "...Are you okay?" Frisk asks when they look back, expression shifting to concern. "It's really dark and cold out."

[itstheend]

"That is a good one." The compliment is somewhat neutrally polite. It reminds them of Valentine's Day - roses are red, violets are blue... one would think they'd be purple, really.

Somebody that gave them determination. At first it sounds like an untouchable inspirational story - someone told them to, and they tried hard enough, and that fixed things, like magic. But there's a strange weight lent to the word and... 'red stuff'. Is it the name for a kind of medicine?

They don't know why they're being told this, but they don't know why this Frisk tells them a lot of things. Still, they comment, feeling the sense that they should, a sort of expectation.

"Can we not both do it now?"

I.e. would continuing not strain their throat? They've noticed the faintness to it, which makes sense in light of what they've been told. They blink at the mention of the chill - they'd largely forgotten about it.

"I am just fine. There is heat coming from the Castle." Even if extends only so far out onto the balcony. It's at this point the laws of cosmic irony cause them to sneeze massively, because warmth or not they've been running around at night, in the snow. Their expression is one of surprise and they quickly hide their snotty nose behind a sleeve. Ew. Gross.

[dustless]

Frisk laughs softly. "Thanks." They don't believe it, but the attempt to be nice about it is appreciated.

Their fingers slide up their scarf to press against their throat. They hadn't been thinking about their limits, but..."Maybe we should take a break. A little one. So I can sing more sooner insteada having to give up sooner..." Plus, again, it's really cold. Frisk is probably going to make both of their throats ache singing out here.

Chara's sneeze is loud and abrupt enough they're startled into a hop, eyes wide, and then they're moving slow and careful and around the other kid. "Let's go in anyway. Oh--there's a music room! We can go in there. If you wanna come with me," they remember to add, pausing on the other side of the threshold.

It's easier to not care that they might disturb somebody when they've got a partner, too.

[itstheend]

Chara's own eyes go wide at the other's reaction - they didn't mean to be that loud! They hold up their other hand, but Frisk seems to be moving already, and for a moment Chra wonders if they scared them off, focusing on the actions more than the words, which take a while to sink in.

Oh.

"I would not mind," they demurr, walking forward. There is a faint spark of curiosity in them - a music room? - and it's really rather nice of the other, to think to ask as an afterthought. It really is, to them. "A break sounds like a good idea."

That was surprisingly pleasant, but some cooldown time while they walk there appeals. Or warmup time, as the case may be.

[dustless]

A grin. Great! Frisk nods and beckons.

They're quiet on the way, resting their voice like they said they were going to. Though they hum. A little. It's that first one, Sing again.

The heat sinks into their face--it feels a lot better in here.

But the warmth wasn't their only thought, before. They lead Chara about two thirds of the way there before they talk again. "Why were you out there...now? Late, I meant. 'S anybody bothering you?"

[itstheend]

Chara unconsciously starts to quietly hum along a little, now they've heard it before - a habitual, ingrained mimic, it seems.

The question causes them to simultaneously realise they're doing it and stop, blinking at them. They don't know how to explain it.

How the cold feels real in the way it stings, when everything else here seems just a little too good to be true? How it feels like their element. How the Castle is full of people, and interaction is stress. How it's... a little exciting. To break the rules. To go outside, at night, as they please. Nobody seems to care.

Although maybe they pushed their luck too far.

"Nobody is bothering me. I am sorry - I suppose I needed some air. Is it... not something that is done?"

Not done. Proper form. Etiquette. These and more?

[dustless]

They're going slower now, walking beside Chara instead of in front so they don't lose their words.

"It's a little...it...I didn't 'spect to find somebody out there that late. An' some people, they can be jerks. I don't want...if anyone was bothering you, so you...thought you had to be outside to stay away from someone like that. I don't want you to. Have to do that."

Frisk is definitely thinking of their Uncle Mettaton. He's not going to actually do anything, but he can be...dismissive in a way that leaves you feeling real bad.

"So if that was happening, I'd--make it stop." They almost say try to, but that's not the wording they need. Frisk has to be confident in being strong and in control, even if they try balancing it with being calm and gentle and nice.

...At least nice.

[itstheend]

Ironically, Mettaton is going to be the nicest to them in this event that they'll be getting from him for a while. Well, a Mettaton.

They'd make it stop. They sound so sure, rock-steady about it, that Chara is tempted for a moment to believe them. Only a moment. People can be jerks.

"It is nice of you to offer. There really is nothing of the sort occurring, however." It's strange and odd, and their head is tipped down a little, because... does the other want to find something that isn't there at the moment?

"I will not go out again in future." If it makes them worry. Not even meant to be passive-aggressive - they really won't.

suicidal ideation ment

[dustless]

Not their uncle. (And not that Frisk even knows he's a Mettaton yet.)

"...Okay. You--you can, if you want to, but...you looked really cold, so you should be careful 'bout it. At night even more, 'cause nobody'd see you if you fell and couldn't get up, or something."

...Even though Chara might not mind that happening. Maybe. They're acting nothing like themselves right now, but that doesn't mean anything.

I hate your parents, you know. I don't hate lotsa people, but yours, you Charas, you...deserve better.

Maybe the castle's taking pity on them and the sudden tightness in their throat, since they find the music room faster than they thought they would. "Oh--look," ignore that voice crack, if you please "the music room. All kinds of stuff here."

Stuff as in instruments, walls of them, and Frisk immediately skips--literally skips--over to a massive set of chimes and hits them.

suicide mention cont.

[itstheend]

Fell and couldn't get up.

They'd be lying if they thought it didn't have an appeal. But they're not allowed to do even that, however they might long for it. They are trapped, and perseverance is not their colour. The red of their soul beats dim without the focusing lens of a personal goal.

"I will be careful," they repeat softly, and they keep their head down all the way to the music room.

Frisk's declaration gets them to look up and... they have never seen so many instruments in one place, not even in their school's music room. Their head swivels, taking it in, (there's indeed all kinds of stuff) and then Frisk whacks a set of chimes.

They do their best to suppress the shiver of a flinch running throughout them at the sudden, loud noise, and breathe. And breathe.

[dustless]

...Maybe that wasn't such a good idea. Though they purposely didn't go for the giant organ in the back to avoid startlement in the first place.

They don't call extra attention to Chara's stillness, instead beckoning them over with a lazy handwave. "C'mere, look, hit these, they sound pretty. D'you know how to play anything?"

[itstheend]

"No," they say, trotting over easily enough despite the slightly increased heartrate - it's going down now that they know the source and reason. "I do not have any extracurriculars at the moment."

It's the holidays, see. When they're from. Ostensibly. But no, they haven't learnt an instrument even when they did have some. Books they can learn from easily enough when they want, but musical instruments are expensive, which means they couldn't have their own.

Which means, although they're unaware of the reasoning behind this aversion here, that if they got one it would be another thing hanging over their head.

It's okay enough to use this one now, they think, having been given implicit permission, and they curiously tap a chime with a finger, the sound racing through the others. It's a lot nicer when they're expecting it, they have to admit, and they sneak a glance at the other before doing it again.

They start laughing a little - more a release of tension than any genuine amusement, but at least it's not the result of something stronger. It sounds a little strange - rough and sharp short bursts.

[dustless]

Frisk nods, accepting this. "'M trying to learn some of this stuff. The key things, mostly, like the piano, and that." They aim a finger at the looming organ behind the clusters of other instruments. "Dunno how to read the notes much though. Yet."

Easy, hopefully-relaxing chatter. No disappointment, though Frisk was sort of hoping.

They tap the chime on the opposite side, music slinking back to Chara. "You okay?" they ask again, softly, because that's not good-laughter. Frisk's watching them from the corner of their eye.

[itstheend]

The laughter cuts off, abruptly, as if someone hit a switch.

Chara's gaze follows the pointing finger to the organ - it looks like the sort of thing that could cause an earthquake if all the keys were pressed down at once. There's a brief flare of the dual urge to be on the other side of the planet if that happened, and also to cause it.

"I am just fine, thank you." It's not a snapping bite as it might have come from their more familiar version, but it is somewhat rote and absent. "It simply startled me."

They look over to the piano and then to Frisk, internal cogs whirring. "If it is not too much trouble, I would like to hear you play."

Just a little bit of vicariousness starting to seep in, but they also do genuinely want to see the other's skill.

[dustless]

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.

[itstheend]

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.

[dustless]

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.

[itstheend]

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.

[dustless]

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."

[itstheend]

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.

[dustless]

"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.

[itstheend]

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.

[dustless]

"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?