[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

whoops that was suppoised to be 'cannot seem', hhh

[itstheend]

Chara's face just seems to congeal into a 'what' expression, so at least that did something. (It's a different flavor of tight smile and wide eyes they don't break out often.) They recover admirably, placing their palms together, pressing them to their mouth and inhaling. That is an incredibly Frisk move and they really should have expected it.

They exhale, pointing their fingertips at the other.

"Do I get no say in this? Perhaps I like being this way." Even leaving aside the snarky, flippant, darkly-somewhat-joking contrarianism, they do have strong opinions on consent and personal control shaped by their past.

So it's a cold shoulder, but more of a standard level, 'such is interacting with Chara' cold shoulder.

"What, has the resident welcome-Frisk not swept you up already?"

Are they really that new?

[sassifist]

"Or maybe you're just a great big cactus." Truly the most tsundere of... Where did they hear that again? They fall quiet again, for a few seconds. Their face crinkles, then relaxes. Weird. That deja-vu strikes again.

"I mean, it's not like I'm gonna force feed you rainbows and lolipops until you smile. I just don't get it. Who would want to be unhappy?" It just... doesn't add up. "And no, nobody's 'swept me up' yet."

Another Frisk, though? That's... strange, but at least Pap's talk of alternate dimensions sorta prepared them.

[lawofcycles]

Oh....

Thats.....

[What do you do when some kid a few years younger the you just fesses up to murder? She doesn't know how to deal with this. ]

Uh, yeah, I am suprised! I don't really know....

I'm sure you had a good reasons!! It's just...awful to hear that?

[Kids don't kill without a good reason, she watched a few crime dramas in her life. Enough to know that there is usually a reason. ]

I think any fight for the right cause is fun...but I don't like hurting people.

[Liar. She enjoys the rush of power as much as anyone. She just doesn't like getting hurt. ]

[itstheend]

Cool motive, still murder.

[Morality is in the action, not the result or reason after all, is it not. The tone is matter-of-fact, deliberately disinterested, uninjured hand coming up to hook under their chin.

If you're the bad guy, don't you gotta have a villainous plan?

Haha, you're just a kid like me.

They wouldn't call leg-caught-in-a-bear-trap vengeance a 'good reason'.]

You find them fun, and yet you dislike causing harm. What kind of fights have you been in, then, where you are not causing pain in some capacity?

[Which one is true? They're pointing out the contradiction mostly to turn the screws rather than judge (although the easy way out is to declare the opponent isn't a person), but there is the definition of conflict to consider here.]

[itstheend]

"Frisk, to be less in the way you would have to have somehow relocated yourself to an entirely different planet," they snark. "NASA would honour your burnt and/or frozen corpse."

There's mining operations on the moon in Chara's time, but they're for the most part un-manned. No-one's gotten to Mars yet, although there's been increasingly more serious attempts as climate change starts heating up. They don't know if it's the same in this Frisk's world.

So the answer is no, in both the literal and the metaphorical. They watch the other Frisk's cheek slowly become one with the glass, catlike idle, before speaking again.

"Perhaps it would be better for me to ask that question."

They are, after all the one who came over here and spoke, and while it grinds their teeth and gears to say it (however bluntly, airily and unapologetically they can muster) because it reminds them far too much of how they were and they have to wonder how much of that other self has stuck in them like glue... they would leave scarf-Frisk to their rest, if the other asked.

[dustless]

Who doesn't like Mars? Not that it's cheap to get there. But the mental image Frisk gets is more 'being catapulted out of Earth's atmosphere' than 'being brought by rocket ship', and that could result in either, depending in the direction. Or both.

Anyway. They shake their head.

"No. But you look...busy." Or did. A little while ago.

Frisk folds up, in case Chara wants to sit on the seat across from them, no legs in the way.

"And don't, um....please don't tell anyone else where I am right now," they request quietly.

[lawofcycles]

Um w-well....

[She doesn't have a very good answer to that. ]

Well! I'm not really fighting people! I'm helping them by defeating despair! Thats more like healing then fighting! And working together with friends and using magic and being useful, thats a lot of fun! That's what makes it worth it.

Not...real fights though. Those are just awful.

[itstheend]

Not enough to survive, not at all. It may give some insight into their knack for strategy.

Chara bristles at the brief taking of the memories and claws at them to try and drag them back, suspicion and hackles rising before everything bleeds into the other perspective, the sort of thing that can't not be watched, and they cease, if only for the moment.

They weren't expecting a fight - not one that couldn't be ended by throwing a stick. It was terrifying in it's unexpected escalation and... underneath that, the same dual thrill of fear and excitement as facing the Undying, was a laughing exhilaration, a rush like nothing else.

And in a sunny hall far away from such things, it has more ability to come to the fore despite itself - the same smug pride as a dog trotting back to its owner with a scrap of the mailman's coat in its mouth. The strategist. That's right. They did give Sparks a run for his money, didn't they? Not bad for a first try. Not bad for no time to prepare. Not bad for LV1 against... that impossibly high number.

(They are... somewhat tempted by the thought of a rematch, against better judgment. Maybe the same redness that unknowingly beats in both is a factor. They could pick a better place, they could bring better equipment, they - the next thought is deliberatly garbled as attention flicks to the eavesdropper, but Hush can probably hear it ring loud and clear - h̸̬̄a̵͖̿v̵̛͕ë̷ͅ ̶̱̾m̴͚̌ă̷̻ǵ̸̢i̵̳͑c̵͍͛ ̴̙͒n̸͙̏ö̴̯́w̷͔̔, they definitely think they stand a chance of winning even with Sparks knowing more of what they're capable of.

Frisk's reaction is largely an '-_-' expression, as well as a replay of the sentiment of the Frisk in the memory.

*Please don't.

Chara kind of pulls back, ruffling their composure in place, because they're not some ruffian who just picks fights (this is the biggest lie they've ever thought), but they do idly turn over scenarios in the back - almost purely unconscious.

Frisk's attention turns back to Hush, still impressing the thought that they don't like the fighting, even if it's apparently liked and normal; it just doesn't sit right with them. They also ping another memory - hitting Tiny Frisk with shoes. An enquiry and apology all in one. Are they okay, and they're sorry, and will Hush pass that along with the others, please?

and it's b-b-b-back

[itstheend]

Chara is sick to their backteeth of people who say they've changed, they aren't like that any more, and say it again and again. And unfortunately, that's how this reads to them.

*It's true, Frisk tells them, faxing Chara the relevant memories, a little abashed at the 'brother now' bit (although they're standing by it, to a flick of disgust at them which they dodge without batting an eye). They practically highlight the warmth of the interaction with a red circles and arrows pointing towards it and the words CONFIRMED.

Chara is still highly suspicious - Frisk has a tendency towards rose-tinted glasses and it is a memory, not to mention that just because someone acts nice doesn't mean they are, but one detail does catch their mind.

"Which. Frisk?"

The words are clipped, bit out, the latter part ignored (sorry Gaster.) The one with the scarf? The one with the bandanna? Unless someone has been telling, and they find that highly unlikely considering only two cagey Frisks know for sure, there is only one reason a Gaster might know there is one present.

Is this the one that did this to them?

(They have no idea about the 'shattered across spacetime' thing that lead to the whole memory problems in the first place. Everything was a roar of static.)

[voidster]

Ah, the man who doomed himself by knowing too much. Seeing everything. Seeing children being possessed by other, dead children while he was stuck in the void. All Frisks seem to have a Chara inside, and sometimes there would be a Chara with a Frisk inside. Partners forever, in every timeline.

[The one I've noticed isn't always with us. I put two and two together some time ago. You and Frisk always wind up together, from what I witnessed.] A moment's pause. Should he speak of this? Will they try to believe him? [I can't say I meant to eavesdrop on everyone. It is what happens when you... fall outside time. You learn things, whether you want to or not.]

[itstheend]

Frisk, I am a chlorophyta expert. Did you know that the cactus is the most tsundere of plants?

Chara scowls a little at the memory being replayed - no thanks to a suddenly mischevious inner Frisk. They elect to just... draw themself up and pointedly ignore that. However prickly they might be, there's no dere under there. Really.

They spread their arms, the scowl stretching cresentlike across their face, full of faux-cheer.

"Well then, I suppose introductions fall to me. Welcome to my special hell! Where you can only die for three days at a time and the only food is fruit and cake, and we're out of fruit. It is not exactly rainbows and lollipops, but it sure is being force-fed!"

Their grin is a little manic. They really, really hate it here, especially right now. By temporarily making them a different person, the Castle really did shove happiness, however brief, onto them.

They would really rather be unhappy, if the other option is no choice in the matter.

[collectyourfriends]

Sparks' laughter echoes for a long time before it finally fades.

Frisk doesn't want a fight, and they remind Hush of his Trainer--but Chara does, and this is their body--and Sparks and his Frisk can never resist a challenge if it's outright offered to them.

Hush can't predict Sparks' choice, nor Chara's--that's one realm of Psychic his kind isn't skilled at. It doesn't take such ability to believe this is being laid to rest so easily.

Magic. The attempt to hide it does nothing but catch his attention further; it, too, is packed away. They don't feel magic, but he's not as in tune with his Fairy side. Frisk might know. They certainly know more about monster magic through experience.

Are they okay?

The same memory of before, the group huddled together wild-eyed and afraid.

"You were gone."

Frisk isn't moving their mouth, yet it's still their voice.

"You were gone. Almost...all of you. And I didn't even know. I was--I was--"

Their not-voice is thickly laced with horror.

No, they're not okay, but it has nothing to do with the shoe strike.

Hush bows, and sends an image: Himself, bending to Frisk's ear with a hand cupped against his mouth. A whisper, a secret. He'll tell.

[sassifist]

They try to repress a shiver at that. The fake smile. The... rather unfortunate tone. It's a bit scary. Intimidating. But at the same time, they've lasted this long. Everything is fine. It will stay fine.

But where to start? This is a lot of info to take in at once, and if they want to make good on that challenge, they gotta pick their words carefully.

"...And there's seriously nothing else? No meat? No gardens? Just a buncha sweets?" On one hand, that's a kid's dream come true. On the other hand, it's a health nightmare. Then again, you could make the same argument for all the food in Snowdin Town, particularly with the shop solely selling sweets.

What a strange situation to wind up in.

"And, uh. Duly noted with the death thing, but it's not like I'm in a big hurry to die any time soon." The first time was bad enough. Their close calls with Sans hardly help, even if he spared them every time.

frisk bby

[itstheend]

"If you are lucky you might find something else in the kitchens, but it appears to be randomly generated. There are gardens, but that is where the fruit option comes from."

Meaning no guarantee of finding anything of that sort, and it's currently winter, even if the snow seems to be fading now. Their arms fall to their sides, and the smile loses it's teeth.

A short term paradise, as one particular work puts it. Even kids can get utterly sick of cake, sometimes literally. Chara probably needs some dental work done by now, but good luck to any dentist to be honest.

Not in a hurry to die soon. Didn't fall for that reason, or changed their mind? Chara isn't going to turn over that particular rock, snorting instead.

"That is entirely your perogative. You are in luck it seems."

[itstheend]

*Gone?

Frisk presses forward into, curiosity mixing with concern. It's good to know that the shoe didn't have any lasting effects, but the same can't be said for the source of the other Frisk's distress.

...they're pushing just a bit too hard, aren't they? That urge to know so as to fix, utterly ingrained in them. They pull back, even as Chara cursorily scans the memory and notes the eye colour - seen by their younger self and with the same automatic classification popping up like toast - demon - before being folded away.

Frisk's rush of gratitude pours over it like an ocean wave when Hush relays the second concept. They trust Hush will do it, and project as much thanks as a mind can, because they appreciate the action even if the actions of shame might not seem all that important in the scheme of things to Hush.

Both participants seem to expect the mental conversation to draw to a close, pulling away a little, although on Chara's end it's rather more territorial, and on Frisk's they're amenable to being called back.

[collectyourfriends]

Ha Ha Ha. His Frisk is that way too, at least when they've gotten attached to someone. Even if they're reluctant to admit it.

Demon? Hush doesn't know that word, and he notices negative echoes. No need to dig in right now, though; Frisk's worry about his Trainer and worry that they're overstepping their bounds--those scrape against him, and he chooses to show them what 'gone' was.

Images:

Frisk. Sparks. Hush. The silhouettes of Needles and Prince and Maud, because hiding the unknown is second nature when it could be used in battle.

Tiny Frisk (the image is a little fuzzy), tiny Sparks (much less so, since Hush knows what Electrikes look like without having to tug from memories). The rest of the shapes, Hush included, slowly falling and fading and becoming a batch of colorful Eggs.

The Eggs are mostly hatched, noises and limbs leaking out--except the cracks heal over, time's on rewind, until they're smooth and perfect.

And then they're gone, leaving the small Frisk and Sparks wandering through the snow and laughing, not knowing who and what they've missed.

And Hush only leaves a cursory impression of existing but not existing, being locked inside the Egg he was supposed to break out of but couldn't, traces of confusing emotions he can't understand from the teammates he doesn't know yet trapped in the nothing-space with him. No need to torment the pair with a fuller experience.

Outwardly, Hush curtsies this time and sends a rush of warmth in return, both of them, and an image of Hush and Sparks and Frisk and these two relaxing in the grass.They're very welcome.

And then Hush's eyes glow
and all of him flares bright white
and
he
disappears.

Perhaps delivering the message will bring his Trainer Frisk back out of their shell.

; ; oh no the pokes

[itstheend]

It's a cursory expression, but it's enough for a stab of horror and a return echo - the two of them in the dark, the only things in existence - but that pales, because at least they could move, or think they were moving.

At least they knew how they got there, and had only themselves to blame. They're making it about themself, aren't they?

The sunshine and smell of grass chases that away, and outwardly they smile a little. Yes, they'd like that.

He disappears, like Sans, only in a flash of light instead of dark.

They wave at the space where he was before going anyway, Chara's step lighter as they head down the hall, moot paper apology still crinkling.

cw suicidal... ideation...?

[itstheend]

'Catapulted into space by, like, some highly specialised trebuchet or something' is, admittedly, a fantasy Chara has indulged in on occasion. Often it features the sun as a target.

Busy. "A sad dearth of things to smash in the vicinity has left me extremely unbusy as of now." I.e. they've run out and have been successfully distracted from looking for more.

They hop up to sit on the indictated seat, legs folded and arms in their lap and they lean back as they look out the window, warm golden sunlight spilling on them. Ordinarily they'd be sleeping at this time, in a place much like this, but sleep isn't coming. No matter how tired they feel right now.

"Who would I tell?"

That means yes in Charaspeak, but it is a sad fact in their Frisk's opinion that since Kubo seems to have left, the only person in the castle they're on somewhat good terms with is this Frisk. Chara props their chin on their uninjured hand, still staring out as they speak.

"Do you ever feel," they start conversationally. "That you would like to find whatever is responsible for these transformations and rip it to shreds?"

Because boy, they sure do!

[dustless]

They consider mentioning the perfectly breakable windows around half the castle. Then again, that would be dangerous for everyone, Chara-and-Frisk and anyone else who might be running around today.

"People who might ask," they reply, matter-of-fact. It doesn't matter that they're a Chara and some people distrust and dislike them. Frisk is well aware that a lot of people care about them, and most would muscle past the dislike of one to figure out where they were.

A question that has them clenching their fists in their lap. "Maybe...sometimes..."

There's a short pause as Frisk thinks that over again and decides to answer a little better. They might be a little too exhausted to paste on the cheer they'd been running on before, for everybody else.

"Actually, yeah. Something like that. Dunno if that's possible, or it'd help, though."

they try. they really do. poor kid's too soft

[sassifist]

"...So there's no guarantee." They frown. Boy, they are not looking forward to the potential stomach aches, cavities, and other unpleasant consequences. How the heck can anyone survive on just fruit and sugar? Maybe they should invest in a workout regimen.

Still, the death comment's troubling. "And... is coming back really such a bad thing?" Because if it's their special hell, as they put it, then you'd think resurrection wouldn't be on the top of the list. Just what kind of person is this?

Do they have their work cut out for 'em? It's certainly looking that way.

and they try. oh my god do they try (cw suicide talk)

[itstheend]

Oh Frisk buddy, you sure do. You've made a decent amount of inroads as far as Chara goes already, in that they're more annoyed at you rather than actively disliking you, and at least have stopped smashing things.

Warning: this is a task you've taken on that will be extremely difficult. Proceed anyway?

Chara's bright smile congeals, and the look they give Frisk is somewhat thousand-yarded. They'd let that stand by itself, but their own expressions can be a mystery even to them, sometimes, and they wish to be clear.

"How many times have you died, Frisk? Or worse." Yes, there is worse. The kind of things death is meant to be an escape from, not just another source of pain.

[sassifist]

Well, they've made it this far. Why stop now? Wouldn't be the stupidest thing they've done in their life.

They tense up at Chara's statement, teeth clenched, eyes slightly wider than before. Oof. That's a tough spot, isn't it? Granted, it only takes a few seconds to respond to.

"I. Um. Just once. I haven't let myself die again. I've RESET a couple of times, but only one death."

They rub their shoulder, head ducked. "I don't wanna have to go through that again..."

[itstheend]

[There's just a little bit of that diet-EXP feeling at her flusteredness. Frisk mentally leans their head on their arms, kicking a leg.

*It's being a troll.]

Forgive me, but since when was despair something tangible?

['I'm not really fighting people'. But she is fighting 'evil', 'creatures'. It's more pointing out the oddity of calling it simply despair in their eyes - how are the two related, really?]

Congratulations, I suppose.

[On your saccharine life. They wouldn't wish their experiences on another (except perhaps another them), but what they can never achieve fails to hold their interest and it comes across in their tone.]

[itstheend]

Honestly at least one of the kids would be really relieved to know they aren't the only ones like this. Probably Frisk. Their world isn't an abberration!

Feeling of being watched. Chara's skin crawls something fierce, and they start scratching at their arms up and down through their sweater.

They can believe him, much as they hate the thought of it - it explains in hindsight his knowledge of so many other selves.

"You were watching," they say, the tone flat and clipped. "The entire time."

This is hitting certain buttons hard. One of their hands unconsciously scratches at the back of their neck.

[itstheend]

Well, the windows in a certain radius are all smashed. Mostly, though, Chara doesn't want to admit they've worn themself out.

"I am not given to freely dispensing information." This is somewhat of a lie - they can get carried away and exposit - but it's another yes, another roundabout way of saying they won't tell.

The other Frisk agrees and that... surprises them a little. It also... it feels like there's a goal, now, and determination loves a goal to hook into. Someone else in alignment makes it feel better somehow. They sit up a little, mind whirring, and they can feel their Frisk contemplating it too. It was a hypothetical, but now they think of it...

"If it is something in the Castle, it is possible something at the least can be done. Even though this place is small, it could be actively shifting rooms to protect it."

Which might explain why no such thing has been found - the other explanation is, of course, that no such thing exists. But Chara loves control, and power, and doing things.