Chara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
buttercup_eater) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
castle_perrault2017-02-08 09:40 pm
buttercup_eater) wrote in castle_perrault2017-02-08 09:40 pm
Entry tags:
It was all so real to me. [January Event: End]
[[ Sorry for the belatedness of this post! On the flipside if there was stuff set during the event you wanted to get to but wasn't able to post yet, feel free to backdate your posts. Event information/discussion can still be found here. ]]
Once again, it's midnight.
This time, the change isn't as sudden and dramatic. The winds die down, and the castle is quiet. Slowly, the air grows warmer.
Presently, the silence is broken by the sound of running water. The fountains and garden streams, frozen solid only yesterday, have thawed out, and the sound of the water echoes through the castle. It's joined by the quiet dripping of the icicles, and the occasional heavy fwump as melting snow slides and falls off the rooftops.
The change won't be quite complete in the morning: Although the air is springtime warm and smells fresh and clean, the ground is still thick with soaking wet snow and slush, and it will take a few days for it to all melt away.
However, the inside of the castle has gone entirely back to normal. Gone are the decorations, the special food, and the haunting carols in the distance. Castle Perrault is once again a strange, slightly derelict mausoleum.
And the residents of the castle who changed over the holidays will also wake up as their usual selves- except for the slight wrinkle that they can remember everything they said and did over the past month...
* * *
Chara wakes up in a cozy bedroom, warm from their head to their toes and snuggled up under a thick quilt. There's someone in the bed with them, radiating heat, and breathing quietly.
"Mm.... 'Ree?" they mumble. Comfy as they are, Chara can't help but feel vaguely disoriented. They blink sleepy eyes, looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Where the heck are they? They roll over, stretching out a hand to prod at their companion- and their hand falls right onto the shoulder of someone that is distinctly not covered in white fur. Actually their fur is brown, human hair. Because it isn't Asriel, it's their friend Frisk.
Pieces of missing information slam into place, and Chara immediately jerks their hand back with a stifled cry. They scoot back, wrestling themselves free of the quilt, and fall off the bed, crashing onto the floor with bruising force. They ignore the pain and flatten themselves up against the wall, staring at the bed and the spot where they'd been curled up next to Frisk.
Oh hell. Oh hell. Oh hell.
* * *
They escape eventually, bolting through the castle hallways which have gone back to being dingy and bare. Their lungs burn, their calves are hurting, but they keep going. They don't really have a destination in mind; just away. As if there was anywhere on this godforsaken island where they could get away from everyone else for good- even if they flung themselves off the edge they'd only disappear for a few days, and it's not as if they'd have any memory of their time of respite.
They turn a corner and nearly slam into a wall.
A dead end, one they've never seen before: Just a little nook in the wall of the castle, a short set of steps leading up to a window overlooking nothing but clouds. And now that they've stopped running, they're too tired to go back to it. Their legs and chest hurt. They slump against the wall, breathing hard through an aching throat. After a few moments, they feel less winded, though still sore and their pulse is still racing.
"I hate you," they announce.
As they say it, the absurdity of it and how they must look strikes them, and they giggle. "I hate you," they repeat, and more laughter bubbles out. They repeat it, over and over: "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you!" Breathless, hysterical laughter wells up, spills out, interspersing the declarations of laughter.
They know they must look insane. They think they probably are.
Once again, it's midnight.
This time, the change isn't as sudden and dramatic. The winds die down, and the castle is quiet. Slowly, the air grows warmer.
Presently, the silence is broken by the sound of running water. The fountains and garden streams, frozen solid only yesterday, have thawed out, and the sound of the water echoes through the castle. It's joined by the quiet dripping of the icicles, and the occasional heavy fwump as melting snow slides and falls off the rooftops.
The change won't be quite complete in the morning: Although the air is springtime warm and smells fresh and clean, the ground is still thick with soaking wet snow and slush, and it will take a few days for it to all melt away.
However, the inside of the castle has gone entirely back to normal. Gone are the decorations, the special food, and the haunting carols in the distance. Castle Perrault is once again a strange, slightly derelict mausoleum.
And the residents of the castle who changed over the holidays will also wake up as their usual selves- except for the slight wrinkle that they can remember everything they said and did over the past month...
* * *
Chara wakes up in a cozy bedroom, warm from their head to their toes and snuggled up under a thick quilt. There's someone in the bed with them, radiating heat, and breathing quietly.
"Mm.... 'Ree?" they mumble. Comfy as they are, Chara can't help but feel vaguely disoriented. They blink sleepy eyes, looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Where the heck are they? They roll over, stretching out a hand to prod at their companion- and their hand falls right onto the shoulder of someone that is distinctly not covered in white fur. Actually their fur is brown, human hair. Because it isn't Asriel, it's their friend Frisk.
Pieces of missing information slam into place, and Chara immediately jerks their hand back with a stifled cry. They scoot back, wrestling themselves free of the quilt, and fall off the bed, crashing onto the floor with bruising force. They ignore the pain and flatten themselves up against the wall, staring at the bed and the spot where they'd been curled up next to Frisk.
Oh hell. Oh hell. Oh hell.
* * *
They escape eventually, bolting through the castle hallways which have gone back to being dingy and bare. Their lungs burn, their calves are hurting, but they keep going. They don't really have a destination in mind; just away. As if there was anywhere on this godforsaken island where they could get away from everyone else for good- even if they flung themselves off the edge they'd only disappear for a few days, and it's not as if they'd have any memory of their time of respite.
They turn a corner and nearly slam into a wall.
A dead end, one they've never seen before: Just a little nook in the wall of the castle, a short set of steps leading up to a window overlooking nothing but clouds. And now that they've stopped running, they're too tired to go back to it. Their legs and chest hurt. They slump against the wall, breathing hard through an aching throat. After a few moments, they feel less winded, though still sore and their pulse is still racing.
"I hate you," they announce.
As they say it, the absurdity of it and how they must look strikes them, and they giggle. "I hate you," they repeat, and more laughter bubbles out. They repeat it, over and over: "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you!" Breathless, hysterical laughter wells up, spills out, interspersing the declarations of laughter.
They know they must look insane. They think they probably are.
no subject
Slowly, the empty space next to them filters in.
They knock a pillow to the floor with how fast they shoot up. "Chara?" Their voice is frantic, and they realize it and forcefully tone it down as they toss the quilt off and swing their legs around. "Chara? Did you fa--?"
Frisk looks over, and they're struck silent.
That's not Chara.
Except no, that's dumb. That's Chara. That's their Chara, and of course they changed back. Frisk was kind of expecting it. And it's been a month, right? It must've been. They'd just lost track of time.
They want to move and their body's full of lead.
"...Chara?" they repeat, even more quiet. "Are you..."
...but they don't know how to finish.
no subject
Frisk doesn't know how to finish and meanwhile, Chara doesn't know where to begin.
Why were you in my bed is one question except a memory helpfully filters in: "You don't have to sleep on the floor! I don't mind sharing." Another question- Did you know which one I was? Frisk had known they were Chara, of course, even when Chara themselves hadn't known it. Why are you looking at me like that? Because instead of their small friend it's... them.
Their thoughts go around and around like this for what feels like forever.
Finally, they manage to ask: "...Why?"
no subject
Why?
Why are you being so nice to me?
They don't like that memory filling in what they're trying to ask. Even if they think that might be right, and they shiver.
"Did you get hurt?" they ask instead, first, and they punctuate it by slipping all the way off the bed and onto stone. "That...that sounded...bad."
no subject
Idiot, they think. You are a disaster. You've spent all this time as an oblivious little kid, and now Frisk knows how pathetic you really are. They even know things that they never even told Asriel.
It takes a while before Frisk talks and when they do, sliding off the bed and fully onto the floor, Chara quickly edges away.
"Don't. Touch. Me."
no subject
"...Okay." Of course Chara knew they were going to try reaching out next. They look away and shift their legs around until they're half-sitting on them, weave their fingers together on their lap.
Silence settles again, a weight pressing down on every inch of their skin. Frisk gnaws on the inside of their cheek, glancing between their hands to make sure they're staying there and Chara's face.
"You...you fell?" Still focusing on the...current problem. One of the current problems. The one they're kind of prepared to deal with.
no subject
There's another silence, until Frisk speaks up and Chara's head jerks and it takes them several moments to realize which fall Frisk is talking about.
"...Why are you thinking about that?" They shake their head. "It's fine. I'm fine. Just leave me alone."
no subject
Frisk is scared.
They're not scared a lot. When they should be, most of the time the feeling just...isn't there, or all locked up inside themselves.
It's not locked up right now, despite their most valiant efforts. Their hands are shaking in their lap, and their throat and face are too hot and they really don't want to cry.
"You fell," they say again, folding up in a hunch. Look, they're smaller. Look, they're not as dangerous as they both feel right now. They don't know why they're talking about that. They don't know how to talk about anything else.
Frisk follows Chara's gaze. "Do--do you--do you want me to go," they offer clumsily, since the falling isn't something they can fix, and neither is anything else. Nevermind that this is Frisk's room in the first place.
also suicide cw i guess >_<
He's on his way - somewhere, now. He's not sure where. Maybe he'll find his double and give him a good hard kick in the face, in return for all that false hope. Maybe he'll challenge the crocodile guy to round 2. Maybe he'll just go find something to blast into ashes.
But whatever. He takes a detour and follows the sound of hysteria, instead - and oh my, look who it is.
He smiles, sharp and mirthless. (His crown's askew, and the excessively ruffled shirt he's wearing is buttoned up all wrong. He doesn't care. It doesn't matter.) "Had a rough month, darling?"
no subject
Oh. It's him. One of the admittedly many people Chara is in no mood to see, and here with a condescending question. "Actually," they say flatly. "I had an excellent month." Go away.
Their eyes narrow in on the mismatched buttons on his ruffly shirt. "Are you trying a new style?"
no subject
"What, this?" He gestures vaguely toward his torso, like it wasn't obvious what they meant. Like he doesn't know already what a mess he is. You'll have to try harder than that, darling!
"I guess I am! Three's a crowd, after all. Can't call myself a star if I don't stand out from it, hahaha..."
no subject
Those three words are utterly foreign to Grune. She can't imagine who would say such a thing at all, let alone to someone else. She should find out what's wrong so everyone can be friends again.
But what she finds is only one person, speaking to nothing, and they're...laughing? She doesn't understand.
"...Chara?"
no subject
"Chara? Is that who I'm supposed to be?" And there's that smile again, spreading from ear to ear, the one that doesn't meet their eyes- Grune might recognize it from when they first met. Chara laughs a little more, knowing that what they're saying probably doesn't make much sense.