[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

[itstheend]

Frisk quietly gives him the moment to pull himself back together. They can temper red with cyan when they need to, and he needs it. Their brow is crinkled in concern, but they can't try an attempt at comforting touch in the body of the touch-averse. Not without tipping the scales of the delicate balance of power in a way they're unwilling to risk.

There's a bark of a laugh in the back of the mindscape when Gaster signs. No, Chara doesn't believe it. Not when they have suffered, and likely will again, and while the tower of their seeing all Gasters as facets of one individual has been struck a blow to the foundations here today, it is still standing.

Doesn't want either of them to suffer doesn't presume that suffering won't happen.

They would like to not suffer, very much.

It has more of an effect on Frisk, who has their own plans lying elsewhere. [Sorry], they say automatically, because even though they weren't the one that initially pressed and dug, they could have done more to stop it, or not have continued speaking of it. [Shouldn't've happened to you either.]

There's guilt there, and they don't know why. There's usually guilt, even for things that logically they can acknowledge they didn't have all that much control over.

[voidster]

[Beside the point.]

No, it shouldn't have. None of the many decent men who are all him, all out there trying to hold onto themselves. Irrelevant. This shouldn't be about him, he lost control and made it so anyway, and the least he can do is try to steer the conversation away from his condition a little.

[I should apologize, myself.] Not Frisk, hardly. [That... was an overreaction on my part. I'm aware.]

More understating it all, for the sake of not having to admit he panicked. They already know, he doesn't need to.

[itstheend]

[It's okay.] It's always okay, isn't it? Even when it isn't, as Chara presses. A mantra, as if that could make it so. But they understand. Bad Memories.

It shouldn't be about him? It shouldn't be about Frisk. They're the bystander here, and they want to open their mouth, insist that it's not beside the point if it really hurt him, but they don't. They pull it back, and swallow it down. That's not going to help. Picking and prying never helps. Stepping in where they're not wanted.

[It's okay.]

They should probably get Chara away now, before anything else happens, and they lift their hands again knowing if they say goodbye they probably won't be seeing him for a while, and might not be themself then. [They don't want Sans and Papyrus to suffer either. I know they won't though.]

They being the skeleton brothers. [And they don't believe me but that's okay.]

There's no easy solution here.

[voidster]

[It's alright.]

How similiar they are, both insisting it's fine. His shakes are easing, so it isn't entirely a lie--it might be fine. At some point. He'll perservere. He'll go on, and there will be moments he enjoys. That's the most he can hope for, and that anyone can ask of him.

Time to make some promises once more, to Chara, who he knows is listening.

[They might believe me one of these days. I haven't approached the youngest brothers yet and I have no plans to. But as I said, one of the older ones knew me, missed me, and we enjoy spending time together. That isn't up for negotiation, because I would never in my right mind harm him.]

Nope. If it were anyone else, he might agree to it. But as it is, it's unthinkable. Who knows how long they'll have together?

[itstheend]

Chara isn't happy about this, not at all. Still, they have something. The younger ones, the ones most vulnerable, not being approached, and while they doubt he might keep to his word, at least they have it so he can be beholden to it.

Sans, as an adult, can take care of himself, bones and blasters to offset one HP. Frisk for their part, nods and gives Gaster a thumbs up and... creatively paraphrases.

[They're okay with that. I know you wouldn't, too.]

In his right mind... well, this Castle has a way of twisting people's minds apparently. But Frisk is shoving that firmly in the Feelings Box.

[I. Um. Can go if you want now.]

But only if he wants. It's a problem, that they aren't in their own form which would make this so much easier, and they viscerally miss it with a strength that surprises even them.

[voidster]

[If it helps... I have next to no magic these days and I'm clearly easy to outrun.] Clearly, seeing as he tried his best and the child was able to catch up with him without even being winded, probably. Does being chased down, sort of, count as him breaking his promise to stay away? [Not to mention Sans can teleport.]

Silly Frisk, thinking that's an easy question... though it would be, if it weren't for what Chara wants. It can't be comfortable to stay near him.

[I don't mind if you stay.]

[itstheend]

It wouldn't be breaking the promise in Chara's estimation, which is why they pursued on spotting him. It's all about control, and if they initiated the encounter they controlled it.

It still isn't comfortable to stay near him, even with the revelation of little magic and the fact of slow speed, but they made the decision to. Still.

I mind. I have what I came here for.

It's not entirely a conscious or deliberately sent thought on Chara's part, but they aren't going to take it back on detecting the reverb of it being picked up. Frisk chews their lower lip, visibly conflicted and not quite looking at Gaster as they do when communicating with Chara. In the end though, they come to a decision.

At the end of the day, Chara's the one they're rooming with. They'll do their best to make up for this when they can.

[Chara... doesn't want to. But thanks! Later, definitely.] A firm nod and a thumbs up. Events that separated them have happened twice now. Maybe it will happen a third time.

I should hope not.

[voidster]

Make up for what, he'd say--he's the idiot who said all the wrong things and then lost his cool. As unforgivable a crime as blasting them away with a magical laser would be, in his mind. Someday, maybe, he'll be the one to set things right.

Later, Frisk says. How odd. He stands slowly, seemingly fused together legs separating again. [That's fine. Goodbye.]

He's going to go too. The garden sounds... nice. A good place to not think.