[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]

"Gosh, Frisk," Chara says, mock-shocked despite them pondering this very question once upon a time and finding out the answer was yes. Their palms have gone to their cheeks. "Not all goat monsters are related, jeez."

Except that this is, in fact, the case, thanks to the war. Chara passing up an opportunity to mess with someone when it's so clearly presented would be a harbinger of an impending apocalypse, however.

"Everybody knows Sans, it seems." Or at least he gives off that impression. Since the hat-Frisk knows of Mettaton, Chara assumes they're further ahead than they personally remember getting, their own experiences of him being from their Frisk's second-hand memories or their experiences here in the Castle. Chara then smiles the smile of impending contrarianism.

"Perhaps 'demon' would be more correct! If I seem fine you have not been looking hard enough." Even though Chara feels it's very clear. Maybe willful denial is in play here. It's not unusual amongst Frisks.

*Hey!

[sassifist]

Their cheeks puff up a little, and their nose wrinkles. "Well, excuse me for not knowing, buster. It's not like the Underground's crawling with floppy-eared fuzzballs." But whatever indignation they show fades fast enough. They open their mouth to comment on Sans, but... demon.

Demon.

They don't mean to, but laughter bubbles out of them, and they arch their brow.

"Ohhhh, I see we've got an edgelord among us. I mean, I'm not judging. But isn't demon taking it just a little bit too far?"

[itstheend]

Chara's cheeks, already with a cutesy blush by default that they absolutely hate even in it's occasional utility, start spilling red out onto the rest of their face entirely against their will. There's only so far pretending it's a flush of anger can take them.

This Frisk isn't the only one amused, although the unseen one is making a token effort at contrition that's not entirely sincere, or working. This only makes things worse on Chara's end. Betrayal!

Chara does their best to rally, fingers closing and opening by their sides as they draw themselves up. It would be perhaps more impressive if they weren't twelve and wearing bright colours, although the blood from scraped knuckles and cut glass probably does add a bit to it.

"If you have a more fitting definition for an un-natural creature with red eyes and inhuman powers that makes deals, by all means tell me it."

*D'you want a shovel?

Shut.