This is business--this is a puzzle, something to learn about to figure out the problem, and then the solution. Frisk memorizes what they can. Not the route itself, that's pointless (though they wonder if this guy knows that), but what they can see. The features of the hall coming to the door; the storage room; the stairs; the hall of cells--dungeon.
They didn't know something like this was here. They've found trap doors, in the gardens and the castle, but they lead to either nothing or the underground lake.
Stupid castle. Keeping secrets.
Being brought to a dungeon means they're captured, though. Maybe they're not about to die after all.
And then Barnaby--
Barnaby knocks them out of their fugue with a strangled breath in, and they race over to him before they even register everything that's wrong.
Frisk stays by the bars, turning to watch not-Barnaby instead. The cell's small enough that they can stay in this spot no matter what their original does, they judge, and they will.
"Barnaby!" Frisk kneels and reaches for his arms before stopping. There's so many cuts, they don't know what they might be able to touch without aggravating something. "Barnaby..." They don't know what to say. Or do. Not right now.
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Date: 2017-06-06 02:14 am (UTC)This is business--this is a puzzle, something to learn about to figure out the problem, and then the solution. Frisk memorizes what they can. Not the route itself, that's pointless (though they wonder if this guy knows that), but what they can see. The features of the hall coming to the door; the storage room; the stairs; the hall of cells--dungeon.
They didn't know something like this was here. They've found trap doors, in the gardens and the castle, but they lead to either nothing or the underground lake.
Stupid castle. Keeping secrets.
Being brought to a dungeon means they're captured, though. Maybe they're not about to die after all.
And then Barnaby--
Barnaby knocks them out of their fugue with a strangled breath in, and they race over to him before they even register everything that's wrong.
Frisk stays by the bars, turning to watch not-Barnaby instead. The cell's small enough that they can stay in this spot no matter what their original does, they judge, and they will.
"Barnaby!" Frisk kneels and reaches for his arms before stopping. There's so many cuts, they don't know what they might be able to touch without aggravating something. "Barnaby..." They don't know what to say. Or do. Not right now.