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Date: 2017-06-27 10:19 pm (UTC)
dustless: (Default)
From: [personal profile] dustless
Living is the prison. It's maybe not a good idea to scoff at a giant death-causing SOUL-touching being, but Frisk does it in a small noise in the back of their throat. At least you can do stuff when you're alive. Alive for real.

But if it was, they suppose the castle must be the biggest, best jail there could ever be.

"Okay," they say softly.

Frisk keeps going.

It's a straight shot there. The fog shreds under the weight of the sun, or through the strength of the gardens, or maybe just magic. (It's probably just magic.)

They hurry ahead before Judgement can maybe break the door down, even if they're not sure if she can actually fit through the doorway at all--it's hard to look at her long enough to get a good idea of her size, out here.

They step outside and plant their feet on some mossy rocks, standing in the speckled shade of a gathering of pear trees.

The rest of the gardens are spread out before them, though they can't see all that far. There's lots of other flowers, including the kinds that grow on bushes, and those block out most of everything except trees from their short viewpoint.
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Castle Perrault

August 2019

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