[Post-Event Post] I don't need safety, I've grown up

[itstheend]

They wake up.

They wake up, and for a moment it's a confusion as two sets of impulses try to sit up, try to roll over, what is this why can't I move-

It all comes flooding back, and the thrashing, twitching body goes still, glassy eyed, panting.

*...
*Hi Chara.

Breathe. Breathe.

*Sorry I kicked you out.

Chara groans and presses their palms to their eyes. There's a dual storm of self-loathing here, turbulence kicked up by the past crashing into the future. Things that neither wanted to come to light, exposed. Breathe.

Well then. Damage control. Lock this all away and focus on getting up. They've been sleeping under a bench in the chapel this past month - they touch the back of their head with their fingers where they just cracked it on the pew. Didn't notice, in the heat of the moment. It seems that the Castle always shoves Frisk back into Chara.

They get up, and start walking - no particular destination, but places they are avoiding. The library. The balcony. The swings, certain spots in the garden, the kitchens. They just need to run, and they do, and when running's not enough, when their legs burn and their lungs are filled with knives from the cold air they screech to a halt and scream and punch a window, bright glass shattering, before turning on a vase. Anything inanimate nearby is getting destroyed.

Frisk makes no move to stop them.

For Poke-Frisk and Sparks:

There's something that needs to be done, and it has to be done sooner rather than later. Frisk would prefer to give the apology in person but... that would raise some questions they don't think Chara would particularly want to answer right now.

While they do have control over the body (it aches - Chara themself has retreated to a ball at the far back, spent) they spend some time making enquiries - they don't know where the Frisk with red eyes and the dog monster live, and need to to slide this under a door. They've written an apology letter (and not a Bureau of Communication one).

They feel terrible about attacking Sparks -  they're pretty sure that was Sparks, even if he looked different - and it profusely says so.

Comments

[lawofcycles]

Um. Hey! I-its not that funny is it...? [Why else would they be using magic?? She doesn't get it!

Then again, she can't see any mark from their soul gem. Chara is the proper age to contract so else could they have magic??

Their next question has her mind freeze and stop for a moment, but this is one that fixes itself quickly. It's something Madoka wants, anyway. ]

Of course! Magical girls should work together! If there's an evil to defeat, isn't it better to just put fights aside?

yessss : D

[itstheend]

Chara's head whips up at the speech (didn't hear them walk up, too silent or too focused, stupid) and the gaze the other is fixed with flashes murderous before settling into an expression of neutral distaste. They're breathing heavily, blood dripping from numerous cuts.

They straighten, slowly, and turn to the other fully, every line of their body and every deliberate movement a fluffed-fur horror-movie attempt to broadcast 'danger, do not touch'. They tilt their head, smiling, looking the other over with close scrutiny. A Frisk. Typical meddlers. They don't think they recognize this one.

"I should think it obvious to anyone with working eyes."

Which is to say, they just broke some things. They find themself not really caring too much about the blatantness of the question-dodging.

so you have wished it, so shall it beeee

[itstheend]

Hey, hey! Don't just walk... er, ooze away when they're menacing you! Rude!

They pick up the pace, moving to a brisk walk beside him, the smile having curdled on their face a little at the edges. "Excuse me, are you going somewhere?"

Frisk, for their part, is used to entrapment, although technically they could take over Chara's body any time they wanted. But while they're keeping an eye on things, they know as well as Chara that nothing Chara can physically do can harm him.

And they're so tired. It's exhausting, and the aftermath of the event is hitting them hard. They're Done. Compassion burnout is in full play here, and later they'll hate themself for it.

"We need to talk, Doctor. And I have no intention of letting you leave until we do."

That's already more civil than Chara was planning to be here, but they need to crosscheck. A certain conversation with one of the Frisk's here has set them off-kilter with regards to Gasters, and they need to right it.

[itstheend]

It's...

This is familiar. The type of communication Frisk has been using ever since their resurrection - they mentally come forward in interest as the other presence shrinks back, suddenly spiky and dense with armor, dragging at Frisk before doing dark.

(Chara has had enough of resonance. You're not getting anything from them if they can help it says this warning. (Not that they can really prevent Hush, but they're unaware of this fact as of now.))

Frisk forgoes speech in favour of returning concept, unperturbed. Curiosity - that's right, not monsters but pokemon, dislocated childhood memories returning. Red, though... that's new. It makes them think of Spark's strange blood, shed by Chara. As well as... something else.

(But they don't like thinking about the True Labs at the best of times. And this isn't really the best time.)

They flood gratefulness at what he gives them, that he can give them something, delight that he knows who they're looking for, apprehension and concern at the fact they don't sound-feel-think? so good, and in return ping a concept of a letter, delivery and the... somewhat smothered shadow of guilt and a small fist hitting a green dog, behind it.

They don't mind the sparsity of the location details. It's more than they've gotten all day. There's an idea forming, nascent, but they don't look at it just yet - the idea that they could give Hush the letter to take there.

Chara sends a pulse of mistrust and suspicion at it, and then goes back to glaring-from-behind-the-sofa style watching.

[itstheend]

No, it is not.

[They agree, and their smile bares teeth. And then closes slightly when she freezes up again - once is a coincidence, two is a trend. It doesn't seem to last long, and so they put it aside, though the odd look they give her lingers.]

I think you will find there are precious few things to shoot without qualm here.

[That seems to stir Frisk - the lightning arc of a realisation striking across the shared mind.

*Chara!
*The monsters - she might...!

Do they look like they care?

Chara.

The red voice stops them in their mental tracks. Did they just. Chara can feel the threat in the words. Well then. Understood. You have made yourself quite clear.

*That's not-]

The monsters are people, after all. You are not a murderer like myself, are you?

[Chara is not going to call them good without descending into another laughing fit but they will tell that truth. It's just that people are primarily awful.]

[voidster]

He turns again, remaking his legs and adding a bit of detail to his form, now that he need not concentrate on moving. Hands raise and begin gesturing, his 'tone' very placid. [Very well. I was only leaving for your own sake--as I promised. What is it you want?]

What, indeed? He can't think of anything more they'd ever need to say. Surely the way he behaved towards them during the rollback isn't that offensive.

[lawofcycles]

Ahaha, thats fine! I'm sorry if I'm being embarrassing.

[She just looks confused at that and then claps her hands together in recognition. ]

Huh monsters? Oh! You mean the monsters like the ghost! They're, those aren't creatures of despair! I don't fight for the fun of it!

[Honestly, they're probably more similar to Madoka then she'd know. Something made of hope that runs only on their souls power. But a look of abject horror crosses her face and she stills.]

M-murderer? [Chara? A murderer? She doesn't believe it, but something wiser whispering in her head tells her that the youngest souls are the most volatile, the most vulnerable to acts of despair if given power. ]

[dustless]

Frisk's around.

Not looking to be found, though, not really. They're just...they're tired, they guess. Even though they've been sleeping well for the past few weeks. Better than they have in over a year, in fact. And that's probably over with. 'S like their body's draining energy in advance.

There's a nice window seat in one of the halls, all cushioned and soft and mostly hidden by curtains. That's where Frisk is when Chara tears by, and they poke their head out for a moment once they hear shattering.

...Nothing really wrong with breaking stuff. They withdraw, hopefully before they were noticed, and go back to staring out the window.

[collectyourfriends]

An untrained, non-Psychic human's armor is barely a bump in the road to a Pokémon. He could smash it down into nothing. Could, not will. He feels all those emotions slip through his chest in a squirming mass, curiosity-distrust-gratefulness-guilt, fanned out like a deck of cards with the images printed over them all.

Fist strikes Electrike. Stick sinks into Manectric. Both from this set of eyes--this person's eyes, this--Frisk? Frisk.

He hasn't gotten this close to one of their counterparts before. They aren't the same, even with the doubled-up life in their heads, though there's something familiar in the center of them, pulsing out. Nothing he's going to touch; he neither needs nor wants to go in that deep and risk damaging them both--them all.

Frisk. And...Chara. Neither offered their names, but it permeates them enough he couldn't miss it if he wanted to.

A memory: sitting in a lap, blue-and-pink stripes wrapped around his sides, concern spilling over.

You're so quiet. 'S been weeks.

Homesick? No?

Is...is the team being mean to you?

Too loud?
You're too loud, everyone! Quiet! Shh, shh, hush!
Hush?
You like that sound?

You?
...You're Hush?

His own in return.

On the outside, Hush puts a hand up to his mouth.



More memories. Of battles, Sparks', some of which Hush saw.

Manectric tearing his way through vines in a forest, intent on strangling him.

Electrike with massive red fangs piercing his torso, fitting on either side of his spine.

Manectric, enduring a full waterfall launched at his side and coming back for more.

Electrike with a huge thing swinging its hand into his face, sending him flying into a cliffside--directly contrasted with Frisk's tiny, tiny fist making him yelp in mostly-surprise, dragged out of the shadows (pick a card, any card) without effort.

Ha Ha Ha.

Not real laughter, but the same tingling sensation of warmth and amusement. That's very nice of them, but can't they see? Frisk didn't do anything worth apologizing for!

[itstheend]

I believe I said as much.

[The tone is equal parts testy and clearly enjoying her reaction. This is more like it. They feel they have more of an upper hand now.]

You seem so surprised.

[The tone is dry with a slight mocking edge - they're just needlessly antagonising her at this point. It seems she's run into monsters already, so she isn't quite as much of a new arrival as they were assuming. It also means, to Frisk's relief, that they're likely safe. Chara finds themself relaxing just a little as well, to their bafflement. There's at least two monsters who have had enough harm in their lives.

*Aw, you care!

It's advantageous, Frisk. Frisk makes a mental 'sure, sure' motion at them.]

You should consider fighting for fun. I highly recommended it.

[Also they highly have a death wish.]

[itstheend]

Their teeth grind, because he did promise, but also they need to see this through. They stop when he does, the distance between them a caution they raise their voice over.

"I am not happy with the way you treat your sons," they open with. This is as much as a test of his response as an accusation. "Distinctly so. Therefore I am extending the warning - to them as well."

Their hand rests on the butt of the stake sheathed through their belt, but they don't draw it. It's simply making a point, like the edgelord they are and like they could really hurt him with it (even determination magic might not have an effect).

"Do not go near them."

[voidster]

Ha. Ha. No.

[No.] Echoing his first thought with his hands, yes. [I'm reasonably sure who I am now--] Some of his soul is inside Sans, the very same Sans he matched up with when the clock was turned back. He became the very Gaster he felt he was most strongly, that means something. It's as much proof as he'll ever be given.

[And so I have to tell you you're wrong. I haven't harmed the two boys I raised. No one did. The children you're thinking of aren't from my timeline, and I have no intention of approaching them. But I'm not going to avoid the others.]

[sassifist]

Frisk winces. This isn't going well. Did they mess up already? They just wanted to help.

Maybe they should...

No.

No, they're not leaving. They know how awful it is to be alone at times like this. It never helps. It only makes things worse. It just creates a cycle of self-loathing and destruction and mistakes happen and people get hurt and it's awful and-

They draw in a breath. They can do this. Maybe? Hopefully. Everything is fine.

"I mean what happened to make you wanna break stuff. There's always a reason."

There. That wasn't so hard.

[itstheend]

"The reason is your business, none of!"

It's chirped, almost brightly, but definitely not duchenne as they clap their hands together, the noise echoing off the stone. It sends a sharp spike of pain up their arm but do they care? No, they do not.

"I am not here to satisfy your curiosity, Frisk."

There's always a reason. Shall they tell them, then, of being forced to be someone you were, someone you hate as much as you hate yourself, of being a skin you shed and thought burned?

Shall they tell them that it was actually somewhat pleasant sometimes, which furthers the ire tire fire, because that terrifies more than anything else?

Haha, that self sure would have! Handing people knives in the hope they don't dig them in, the hope of controlling the harm, the hope that maybe someone would ask 'who gave you this' and see the wound in their back.

That's not who they are any more.

[itstheend]

It is a while before Chara returns, coming back the way they came, but there is only a finite amount of things to break - at least until the Castle repairs itself again, which may take a while. They're panting, and fuming - they've had a couple of encounters that have kind of unravelled a large portion of what stress relief this might have given.

Purple and blue in the corner of their eye. They snort, and straighten.

This Frisk. They have memories - a library, and peppermint winter, and confusion. They can feel their Frisk surreptitiously looking at them, and they fold them away with a snap, hoping that non-existent nose gets caught in it.

"Frisk," they greet.

The red stuff. Determination. Restored their voice too, in the end, though recovery was much longer. It took them a while to idly try instead of defaulting to sign, habit carrying over from the event.

[itstheend]

"Reasonably sure. They say, do they not, that memory makes personality, and you do so seem to have a lot of them."

Many that are in Chara now. It disgusts them, that they have that piece of Gaster inside, unwanted, that they will never ever be able to take out.

They burn. They don't trust the other Frisk's ability to vet.

"Liar."

Red eyes narrow. It's good, this extracted promise they can do their best to enforce, but not good enough to them.

"I have seen nothing but in them."

[itstheend]

Probably not a good idea to touch that core, no. After so many times, it's on a hair-trigger and might react violently, a metaphysical allergic reaction from an immune system scoured to high alert.

Not that Hush couldn't smash through that as well, but as stated - probably a Bad Time.

*Hush! Frisk thinks, happy to know the name, that Hush decided to share this memory with them - there's an intimacy to this exchange that means it means a lot when something is chosen to be shown in full, a sort of trust. There's a shadow of a memory - that's a nice name that gets written on top over with a *Nice to meet you!

The happiness fades to horror at the memories that play next. They have their own echoes - a chest pierced by glowing blue spears, burns across a body that make it stiff and less able to avoid more, acid tears, beams of searing light, lightning and lasers and bones - they flicker faster until they're rapidly cut off, the leaking tap spotted and turned off.

*That's not okay! Sure, a fist and a stick may pale in comparison, but that doesn't mean it was right to hurt them. It doesn't mean that was fine. The next memory they give in full - Tiny Frisk, angry and upset in a way they didn't understand then, shouting at them to stop.

It's not okay that Sparks got hurt all those other times either. It's not.

Even if it was just a game.

[sassifist]

"I just wanna help..."

They wince again, hands balling up. This was a bad idea, wasn't it? They don't even know this person. They probably look like an idiot right now. What were they thinking? Maybe... maybe they should just go. But now their feet are glued to the floor. This person, whoever they are, knows them. But how?

But their voice. So maybe? But that's weird. What do they even say or do?

What can they do?

"But... I'm not asking outta curiosity. I'm asking because it's obvious that you're hurt, and something tells me beating up a bunch of pots isn't gonna do much." They laugh, though it's wheezy and uncomfortable. "Believe me. I've tried."

Breaking stuff. Temporary catharsis, maybe, but what does it really accomplish?

Lashing out at objects is one thing, but rely too much on force, and then what?

One accident too many.

But that wasn't lethal. Asgore was. But they RESET. He's better now. They're better now. They don't FIGHT.

This person, whoever they are... would they attack if provoked too much? And if they did, what then?

Still, they can't bring themself to move.

[voidster]

He closes his eyes for a moment, form wavering. Yes, yes, he does. But he must keep hold of what seems to have been proven to be the right ones.

[Not. Not a liar. Frisk saw who I became when I was younger.] It's nice to have a name he can actually use. [And saw me with Sans, the only one in the castle related to me. That's who I am, and it should be clear enough that Sans wasn't being mistreated.]

Another moment of stillness, to keep his thoughts from fraying. Wouldn't want to do something embarrassing like melt right here and now.

[He and I have missed each other very much. I'm not going to stay away from him, not for your sake. The one with the scar on his face--] He taps his cheek where it would be, were he Sans. [I won't promise to keep away from him. Like I said. I was elsewhere for a very long time.]

[itstheend]

"Your concern is noted, if irrelevant."

Sarcastic and dry. Chara's composure seems to be returning, back straightening as they take their smashing and smashed hand into the other and examine it, very pointedly not looking at Frisk as they do so.

"Will you look at that, it seems I am. What does it matter to you?"

Nobody is so pushingly nice without ulterior motive. Even their Frisk isn't without one when they do it. They wonder which it is. Probably to feel good about themself, as if Chara is themself catharsis fodder. They don't appreciate being such.

"You've tried," and it's just as sharp as everything else they've said. They might still attack, if provoked, but the level of provoking required has settled down a little - as long as the other Frisk doesn't touch them, keeps their distance, and avoids hitting certain verbal buttons, they're safe.

They take out a shard of glass from the hand with their teeth, because they are just a little bit Extra, and spit it aside.

"It does enough."

Inanimate objects is an upgrade from people, that's for sure. This is progress.

[dustless]

Thunk.

That's the sound of half a face hitting a window.

"'Lo, Chara," they greet in return, surprised by how exhausted their own voice sounds.

Which Chara is that right now? They kick at the curtain they're behind, showing them a little better.

...But they're not sure what to say after that. 'How are you?' They think they know. 'What are you doing?' Does it matter, and they were just breaking stuff, so they know that already. 'Are you okay?' That's so dumb it doesn't stay in their head for more than half a second.

Frisk says, "'M I in the way?" They're off to the side, in the hallway, but that's the first thing their brain settles on for 'should I leave'.

[sassifist]

"You're unhappy. Isn't that enough?" It's... painful to watch this. Scary, even. Never mind the flash of recognition. Maybe they can't fully relate. Maybe there's a part of them that's projecting. Stupid, stupid, and selfish, but what else is new? Heh.

They're lost. They're confused. They haven't found Papyrus or Flowey. They're just aimlessly latching onto the first person they find. It's not a smart move. They know, but they stay regardless.

They've lasted this long. Might as well keep tempting fate.

They shift their position a bit, fidgeting with a sleeve.

"I mean... objects won't fight back. You can't really hurt 'em." It's better. Better than picking fights. "But..." Sigh. "I... don't think it'll help you feel better. Never helped me."

Heh.

"But what do I know? I'm not you. I don't even know why I'm here."

They just showed up. Outta nowhere. Ha.

[collectyourfriends]

Hush, that's right. He curtsies his agreement. This Frisk is a kind one.

Memories, their own--no, Chara's, plucked easy as a berry from a tree. Rain and lightning, stick sinking into fur, burning metal against their own skin. That was a fight. That was fun--

Sparks is laughing, it's easy to tell even without the amusement Hush can feel ringing. His muzzle is pressed against the ground, hidden by grass and flowers and his own furry paws.

[They got me below half. Half! Can you believe it?] He's got a snarl in his 'voice', but it's put upon. Hush knows from years of experience, and so Frisk and Chara do as well. [Nasty little strategist!]

"Don't," says a voice to the side, "try for a rematch."

[Yes! I will!] Sparks' face rises. [It wasn't fair last time, they didn't know what they were doing. I thought they were going to be pathetic. We'll face off in that giant room with the human food--]

Frisk is burying something small in the earth. "No, you won't. You're really that bored?" they ask mildly, not looking up. "Everyone else so hard to challenge? You know, Needles would go for a fighting match if you find a...yellow gem, triangle. She's missing that in her stash. She could use some more toughening up, and you could use the agility training."

[No.] Staunchly. [The strategist was actually interesting.]

"Don't be so rude. Humans are m--!"

The viewpoint shifts, Hush numbly dancing out of the way with the blue-and-yellow blur that's Sparks tackling his trainer full-on, crushing them facefirst into the dirt.

Laughter. [I can always fight you instead~!]

...Bones and lightning, acid, spears, and Hush packs it all away into his mind for...later review. It was all real, or enough to feel, but not all of that was possible to survive. Not for a human.

[itstheend]

"Plot twist, Frisk, I am always unhappy. Good luck with that."

Their own Frisk stirs just long enough to press against them - even in a deliberate daze the emotions bleeding through are hard to ignore. There's a bleary sense of 'just woke up' from them, and they dully observe the other through Chara's eyes, thoughts about as fast as a molasses-race and still stuck in 'oh, it's another me again' for now.

Temporary catharsis is enough for Chara, even if it doesn't last, they feel. But Frisk inadvertantly hits on a little bit of a sore spot.

"No, you are not," they agree, and the tone is cold. No, Frisk is not them, and they are not Frisk, whatever so-called Flowey might yammer on about, whatever their one has done with their body in the past.

Latching onto them might have been marginally more wise had certain events not occured, although personally they'd say there were no conditions in which it would be.

"You are here because Frisks can seem to keep their noses to themselves." That's not quite true - the one with the scarf and the one with the bandanna have been pretty good about not prying. Having one that's very curious in their head has skewed their perception quite a bit. "You are here because something has decided where you really should be right now is not in your dimension."

They're not sure how true that is, but it's a sign they're calming down somewhat if they're willing to exposit, however frostily.

[sassifist]

...Oh.

At first, they're quiet. They avert their gaze. What can they say to that? They're a good pretend optimist... to a degree, but they aren't Papyrus.

...

But they can guess what Papyrus would say. Hm. Do they dare? It would probably feel cheesy. Forced. Even so...

"And you're saying there's no way to make you feel even mildly content? 'Cause if that's what you're saying, then... challenge accepted."

Okay, no. That was stupid. They are probably going to regret that, especially because of that nosiness comment. Oh well. Too late to turn back now.

"It sure beats wandering aimlessly around some mystery dimension, anyway."

Honestly, they fully expect more of the cold shoulder. But... well. At least they haven't broken out the flirting. Yet.