castle_perrault | It's a beautiful day--

From:

The peace and quiet is ruined not long after by this guy. They tend to do that! Tromping along without anyone older to ask them to try and keep it down, not really looking for anything except for someone to chatter at (hopefully), they find Frisk all cozy.

"Hi Frisk! What's up? ...you look kinda tired, yo."

From:

dustless

They've still got the sun on their face, so they don't mind.

"Hi, Kid." Frisk smiles up at them tiredly. "I am tired. Jus' got done with being sick. Don't think you're gonna catch it, though," they're quick to reassure.

From:

realkidswearstripes

Patpatpat. This is dinosaur feet trying to be quiet. It's a bit better. They plop down on their bum a little ways from Frisk, also in the sun. Sick all alone without their mom, that sounds awful. No one to heal them or make those special pies. "Monsters don't catch germs from humans. Are you okay??"

From:

dustless

"Oh. That's good."

(Maybe that's why Chara was surrounded by Dreemurrs in the end. Nobody had anything to fear from them.)

"'M okay. Just...tired," they repeat lamely. "Being sick really sucks. Snot's gross."

From:

realkidswearstripes

"Oh, yeah! Pretty gross. ...I hope you didn't throw up! That's even grosser!"

What a gross thing to bring up.

From:

dustless

Frisk makes a face. "Won't. That was just at the start of being sick. The weird dreams and nose stuff was worse."

From:

realkidswearstripes

"Gross! You really did throw up? I'm sorry, dude."

Come to think of it, they've probably never seen anyone be sick. Definitely nasty to think that it's a thing that happens.

From:

dustless

Frisk covers their face. Please, don't remind them.

"Better now," they re-assert. "Not going to...stay in the rain again."

From:

realkidswearstripes

Instead of twiddling their fingers (impossible, for obvious reasons), their toe-claws fiddle with each other. Isn't that an awful thing to learn?

"...you'd better not, if rain made you sick and not all the germs!"

From:

dustless

They're still hiding their face with an arm. They use the other one to point vaguely upward. "It...made it worse. Made it easier--made germs get me easier."

It's been a long time since they were in school, or watched random documentaries on TV. But they think that's right.

From:

realkidswearstripes

"How?? I read stuff gets moldy faster when it's warm, not cold!"

That was another horribly gross thing to learn--that human food spoils and grows terrible awful icky fuzz all over it. Ew ew ew.

(no subject)

From:

dustless - Date: 2017-09-14 05:37 am (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From:

realkidswearstripes - Date: 2017-09-14 04:02 pm (UTC) - Expand

From:

itstheend

It's the other Frisk's birthday... a few days ago.

This one isn't aware of how much their mental calendar has slipped, however. They've done their best, and while the days have tried to blur, they're sure they've successfully fought them off, with small tallies notched in the wood of Chara's bed and carefully counted, determined to get it right. As far as both Chara (who's been content to go off of the other's time) and Frisk are concerned, it's March 2nd.

They know the other said not to get them anything, but pschhh, how likely was that going to be? Not very. They need some cheering up, Frisk thinks. They've enlisted Chara's help for this one, pooling their memories of their experiences with the other.

It's hard to get gifts in the Castle, when there's only what you can find or make, but they've done their best, a bundle wrapped in drawn-on and glued together paper clutched in between Chara's hands as they wander the Castle, looking for the recipient, and fighting the urge to pull at the ribbon.

From:

dustless

Frisk really likes that balcony, as it turns out. And they also like pillows, and cushions, and the fact that they can do stuff like carry and drag those things around.

They don't...always appreciate that it rains, and that spoils their resting on their pile of soft things.

They've compromised today. They're in a formerly-empty room not too far from the balcony's entrance, ignoring the pattering of water against the window, and Frisk's piled up all those cushions and pillows and blankets and more into a massive, massive fort.

Only their mop of hair might be visible from the outside, curled up as they are. It's nice and warm inside, and they certainly appreciate that.

From:

itstheend

That's an impressive blanket fort and Frisk mentally nudges Chara to an annoyed yes I can see that, Frisk from their quarters.

Frisk spots the hair peeking out and... has an idea. They carefully set down the package safely in a corner of the room with a small smile and quietly pad up to the pile before-

Leaping. Into it. They're aiming away from where they can see the other is, because as mischevious as they're being, they don't want to startle their other self too much by landing on them.

"Happy birthday!"

From:

dustless

Prickling instinct tells them something's in their space.

Frisk being themselves, they don't even look up. It's probably either a friend (if not now, then soon-to-be) or somebody who's going to pass them by--or the worst case scenario, but that barely brushes their thoughts.

Therefore, they are not at all prepared for a human cannonballing into their fort, knocking down something that was trying to be a wall and, thanks to their overdone cushioning job, bouncing Frisk into the air a few inches with a shriek.

"Chara!" they yelp, scrambling to sit up and failing. Too many blankets, you know, tangled around their legs.

They give up and lie down on their face.

"...Thanks," they answer eventually, muffled. "An' you."

From:

itstheend

They got them to actually bounce! This was a good idea, although their face falls to brief, there-and-gone worry as they gauge the other's reaction before shifting back into mischievously pleased, coming up over the rise of a pillow that was a sad casualty.

There's a horrible, horrifying moment where the urge to answer to the wrong name feels natural, and they swallow it back and swallow it down because how was their other self supposed to know and anyway, this is supposed to be a fun thing for the other. They're not going to ruin it for no reason.

They can feel Chara's pricking presence - the moment didn't escape them either - and they wriggle across the debris in front of their other self and rest Chara's head on their arms, legs folded up and over.

"S'not mine yet." This isn't about them, this is about the other, don't wriggle out of it. "We got you a present!- hang on-"

They scramble to get up and run into the same difficulty as the other, although less enough they do get free and make their way over to the small bundle before bringing it over and pushing it towards them, hands moving in palpable excitement after letting go.

"Here!" They pull a pillow towards Chara's chest and rest their chin on it. Go on, then!

If Frisk does open it, they'll find inside layers of paper with hand-drawn pictures of their various interactions and various encouraging statements, a book on music for beginners, some crayons they found in the back of a cupboard, oddly anachronistic, and yet another book, this time on singing.

They thought about putting flowers in. After the events of the sickness, they decided against it.

Speaking of... the smile shrinks to an inquiry.

"D'you feel better?"

From:

dustless

They saw the sweater's color and blurted the first thing that came to mind--it's not like they're the only Chara they've made friends with before, anyway. They can't be sure.

Frisk props their head up, resting their head on their hand, and elbow on the cushion pile 'floor'. "Still almost yours. You didn't have to get me stuff..."

They don't hesitate long in working it open with one hand, though, and they don't even start leafing through it before their eyes go wide. There's just a drawn picture on the top, they can tell there's more stuff under it, but they suddenly can't move enough to look through the rest.

"You didn't have to get me stuff," they repeat in a wobbly voice.

They're smiling.

(They're also not answering that question.)

From:

itstheend

It's... They're really reminded of when they'd been with the Dreemurrs for a while, and Asriel gave them something. Casually, delighted but casually, like the fact of what he was giving was more important than that he was giving them anything at all, because he'd found it in the dump and thought it was cool and that they'd like it. He'd seen it and thought of them.

They'd said the same thing. It's a little spooky and it makes something in Chara's chest squeeze a bit, and they say what he said then, albiet with the slightest wobble of their own. They can feel Chara themself looking away, embarrassed.

"I didn't have to, but I wanted to!"

They beam. Don't think they didn't notice the question being dodged, but that's okay. It's answer enough, really, and Frisk becomes determined to leave this as a bright spot.

They settle down into the cushion and wait for their counterpart to get to the good stuff, eyes crinkling in happy anticipation. They can take as long as they need.

From:

dustless

The papers are lifted so gently, it looks completely absurd.

Here in the castle, Frisk's gotten two gifts before.

Their scarf is one--worn and tattered along the ends in spite of their initial attempts to be careful, but obviously well-loved. Grune doesn't seem upset when she sees it, at least. The other is a kite, handmade by Serif and (S-4) Papyrus--if anyone else had seen them holding it for the first few months of having it, they would've seen the same near-reverence.

All of them made things for Frisk, with their own hands. Maybe they should be saying something, but then they're entirely certain they'll tear up if they try. Nobody needs that right now.

They're still just as touched by the rest of the presents, even if they were things already in the castle. The singing book is paged through with massive grin, and the crayons are rolled between their fingers and delighted in. They've found paint before, but sparingly, and nothing beats just being able to draw things on paper.

Frisk ends up sitting in a semicircle of gifts, smiling so hard their face aches.

"Thank...thank you. Really, really thank you."

From:

itstheend

Frisk props Chara's chin on the pillow again, shifting slightly until it's most comfortable and kneading the plush of it in their hands happily. It's... strange to see their other self smiling like this, but in a pleasant way. It's a good smile.

"No problem." Their own doesn't quite match it, but it's getting there. The other's emotion is infectious - maybe because they're the same person in a sense? "The books were Chara's idea," Frisk adds helpfully, neglecting to mention their own contributions. It's a fact that may be somewhat evident given the nature of past interactions, ones that Frisk only knows about because they encouraged Chara to draw some pictures of their own. Those are in a slightly different style.

Speaking off... Frisk tilts their head. "Um. D'you wanna try them out?" It's a tacit invitation for a shared activity if the other likes, but they wouldn't mind at all if their counterpart didn't want to. It's their presents, their crayons and drawings that are blank on the back and their books, after all.

From:

dustless

From:

dustless

Frisk has the scratching feeling that they're late.

Forget that, they've got a scratching feeling all through their chest. What if they got the wrong stuff? What if they're bad gifts somehow? They aren't used to this wobbling uncertainty.

Not that it stops them. Frisk didn't forget it, and it would probably be worse if they left it as if they had.

Where's Chara-and-Frisk? They're hunting through the castle, trying to figure it out. They've got a large-ish wooden box tucked under their right arm and something slung over their back, covered by a bag. Not really wrapping paper, but was any of it worth being wrapped up? They can't stop second-guessing. They don't really give presents, they show that they care by helping and hugs and words and sometimes food.

Chara-and-Frisk. Anyone else Frisk works to avoid, and brushes off with a "later" if they're spotted and greeted by any other friends. They're busy, this is important.

From:

itstheend

Chara-and-Frisk are in the library, as they so often are. It's easy to disappear within the stacks of a room that is almost definitely certainly and yet slightly unprovably bigger on the inside. Frisk habitually fights down an antsiness that starts cropping up around the third hour for Chara's sake - Chara, for their part, allows themself to be occasionally nudged to get up and grab food or water to interrupt unknown time lost in other worlds.

They have no idea what day it is.

They're wrapped up in some kind of blanket nest - an empty and chipped cup sits up on one of the shelves. Chara's head lifts at the footsteps, and there is a natural moment of fortification.

They're not *extremely* transparent, but there is something that settles to a lower level of guard when scarf-Frisk rounds the corner, a head lifted over the rim of a book along with an eyebrow.

(The sort of thing it pays to practice in the mirror.)

From:

dustless

They pause, assessing whether or not this is the right Chara. And then they stay paused for a few more seconds, because their stomach seems to have been replaced with jello.

Frisk takes a deep breath, ambling over and putting the box down on the nearest table. It's a wooden thing, nothing fancy, but the stuff inside is fragile enough that they resist dropping it just to hear the thunk. The big thing covered with a bag with a strap is swung around to join it.

"Happy birthdays!"

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