dustless: (visible silence)
Frisk ([personal profile] dustless) wrote in [community profile] castle_perrault2017-02-19 02:02 am
Entry tags:

see how the brain plays around

Two nights after everyone's back to normal, it rains, and Frisk doesn't like it.
After all, the castle doesn't really have weather--it was cloudy through half the castle, cloudy and windy around the Edge, and sunny in the gardens. The rainstorm that announced Ryoji, the thunderstorm that announced that weird dog thing and other them, drifts of snow and a few breezes and falling flakes that Jack Frost brought, those were...because of them. The deeper fog of October, last month's snowstorm, those came with changes that nobody asked for (even if a few of them might've not minded so much, in the end).

And that's what they're expecting, when they shake off their weird numbness and go hunting around the castle and watching people from afar.

--But nothing's really different. Nothing they can see on the outside. Not everybody's acting normal, but last month was long and brought up lots of...feelings, so that's not big enough to be another change like those. It's just rain. Just real weather for the first time they can remember since they got here.

And it repeats. Not at the exact same time the next nights, but they've given up on sleeping much and catch the other times anyway, from light sprinkles to slapping rainstorms, though the latter don't last too long.

They still don't like it. They don't dislike it, they just--don't like it. They aren't glad to see it, even though they should, 'cause it's something different but not at all bad, and that's about when Frisk decides to kick themselves into gear and--do something they would've just a couple weeks ago if there was rain then.

Doesn't matter that it's usually midnight, doesn't matter that it's cold and lonely, every night for a week, they go outside and they play. Or they stand in it, and they watch the drops gather on the leaves. Or tilt their head back and spread their arms and run through it. It's better than nothing. Lots better than lying down and not sleeping or having nightmares.



No sleep, the dampness, the bad food (there's not that much fruit out, just cake and candy), the bad that they've been feeling in their guts--their SOUL, they guess--all those mix together in the worst way.

There's something in their lungs. Mostly. They're coughing up stuff, but their nose is running too, and they get sick in a doorway on the way back in in the morning, and they can't even muster up the effort to try to clean it up or tell somebody.

Sick sick sick.

It gets bad fast enough that they feel it.

Stupid stupid stupid.

They try to go back to their room. It's warm. There's a fireplace. They're not warm, 'cept for needles scraping over their skin sometimes.

Stairs? They're on stairs. They're getting colder, palms pressed flat on the stone. They need to get up. They're sitting. No, they're falling. They fell. One of those should've happened first. Which one. Which.

Something's digging into their stomach. More stairs. They're lying on them, it's cold, their scarf's trying to kill them so they get it off and drop it at their side. Stop it. That's mean. Grune wouldn't want you to do that, or to swim.

Coughing hurts. They roll on their side, and it hurts a little less. Their lips are dry and crusty. Most of their face is crusty. Crusted over. Is it blood? No, not most of it. Just a little. Mrs. Athen, your kid has allergies, do something. Nosebleeds all day. Right. They're supposed to be at home, getting stuff ready for their days. But they can't get up.

It's cold on the stairs.

Post a comment in response:

This account has disabled anonymous posting.
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.
More info about formatting