[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]

*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.