It's a beautiful day--

[dustless]

It's their birthday today.

They kind of wanted to do something for it--bake something, invite a few friends together to play a game, but they can't. They're still dealing with the aftereffects of being hideously sick, and can't help feeling too tired to do much.

That's fine. Nobody--well, almost nobody knows when it is besides them. And they sure don't look probably-eleven, they're still nine-sized...and that's thoughts for some other day.

Frisk's dragged a few giant cushions out into were the sun is, have a blanket to wrap around themselves, just in case. They'll spend the day (what's left of it; they woke up early afternoon) doing their best to just...relax.

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♥🎁♥

[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.

♥

[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.)

[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!"