may he live in interesting times

[voidster]

Gaster and Gaster sitting by the wall, in the hall...

One is solid, the usual skeleton-in-coat-and-sweater form. One is less so, rounded, a torso with no arms or legs. One comes with no accessories. One has a satchel that slipped off his shoulders, a golden wristwatch lying by his base. And one, the properly formed one, has pink runes where eyesockets and nasal bones and mouth should be.

The other cannot think. The world is a haze, thoughts moving at the speed of molasses, bent over and burying his face in his hands. He hasn't moved in quite some time, lacking the will to do anything, and neither has the other. Neither knows what to do, really. They must stay together, and Gaster is ignoring Gaster's signs.

One of him shouldn't exist, let alone two. It's bound to attract attention sooner or later, isn't it?

Comments

backdated to pre-Adam, unless u want me to change!

[dustless]

Frisk, Frisk, neither are entirely happy with this, though one's far more upset than the other.

They know what happened, why Gaster is--of course he would've agreed to do something dangerous after learning Frisk was gonna be dying, right?

Original-Frisk races to Original-Gaster's side. "Gaster! Gaster you--you're all--you stupid--" they reach out to try touching his maybe-shoulder.

Rune-copy-Frisk waves to the other-Gaster sadly.

probably soon after our other thread

[voidster]

Slowly, he raises his head, the weariest expression of all on his face. Why. Why does he see and hear and think? Why does he go on and on? Why can't he just end? It's Frisk he sees, touching his cool dry mallow shoulder. Two Frisks. And his double is still there.

...It's Frisk. The kind, brave, deadly child who saved all monsterkind and also has no trouble slaughtering them all, methodically, hunting even ones still teenage to slash them to dust. He doesn't realize the dichotomy in that. Both are true and so both must be true, and... the rest is beyond him. They're compassionate. They're caring. They won't mind helping.

[Kill him.] he says when they speak, jerking a thumb towards Gaster. [Please.]

Gaster simply waves hello to Rune-Frisk. Nothing to worry about. They can try and fail, he won't die.

=w=b

[dustless]

Surprised to see you. Him.

"What?" Frisk squawks, nearly overbalancing in the crouch they're trying to get into. (It's good to be able to jump right up if something happens.) What the hell? "No! Id--why?"

...Is he why Gaster's all messed up? That'll get better though. They think. They got better when some of their HP was drawn out to make their own shadowself.

[voidster]

[You really shouldn't be.] He was bound to run into the Jackal eventually, the castle isn't that large a place... especially if you're deliberately searching for a particular individual.

Why? Why not? [Why not?] he actually says after a moment of deliberation. [He has... he's taking.] Taking something. Took something. Do make it stop.

[dustless]

Guess I--
Guess they hoped they'd be enough.

"Because there's no reason to. You're gonna be okay. You just...gotta rest. The Jackal took some stuff from me too..."

...but that stuff was fixed when they went to sleep. For nearly 14 hours, sure, but it still worked.

Except Gaster said he doesn't sleep. They pat his back with one hand and pluck up the watch with the other, just for something to hold. "Stupid dog," Frisk mumbles. Just cares about getting rid of Judgement, not what might happen to who she tries to make do it.

[voidster]

[Not enough, because you aren't ending her and neither is he.] At least that's the general impression Runester has about it all. Gaster's clearly in no state right now to do anything about Judgement, clearly.

Who stares at Frisk, tired and bewildered. Their answer is no and he can't get a grasp on why. Why not kill for him? Is he not real and important enough to do a favor for? ...probably that, because he can vividly remember scenes of murder and dust and a knife. But he isn't worth the effort, he's nothing.

[Please. He's stealing.]

[dustless]

Not yet. Those signs are steadier, now that they've been alive longer. Frisk can lie well, when they feel like they need to. Risking their own existence is worth a lie, the Replica thinks. Barring a miracle more than they can pull off, Frisk won't be able to kill her. They're just...hoping.

"Stealing's not worth...death, okay," they say, just a little testy. They've stolen things before, even if it wasn't HP. Well, maybe HP, if Asgore's and Flowey's counted. "We jus'...we gotta...we gotta..."

Move him, probably. Not just leave him here in the side of the hall. They test his back with another pat, and judge his current state as definitely-impossible-to-carry.

Frisk ends up staring at rune-Gaster, oddly expectant. They haven't been paying attention to his signs so far. Oops.

[voidster]

Worse than health. Runester is stealing his coherence, his inhibitions, his mind. Unforgivable. Please make it stop.

There's far too much give to move him, indeed. It would be like trying to carry a man-shaped waterbed mattress--only possible if he were to lie down and someone dragged him. Or. If he moved himself.

He doesn't have any intention to.

They're not going to kill for him.

He's w o r t h l e s s .

So he returns to holding his head in his hands, tuning everything out. When all is pain, all he can do is endure. Runester, meanwhile, nods politely to Frisk, composed.

[dustless]

They'd be...pretty upset on many levels, if they knew he was thinking like that. But he's just melting and woozy-seeming, so they're just frustrated, rock to stand.

"Do you know how to fix this?" Frisk asks other-Gaster. "Or if there's...something...with wheels? Around here?" they add. They don't expect an affirmative, but it's good to be sure.

[voidster]

[I don't know.] he says, ruefully. [I can only go so far away from him, and he refuses to move.] He doesn't know either exactly what is going on in the original's mind, only that it must be despair.

[dustless]

...It's strange, looking at his face.

Stranger than their copy's. They've met other Frisks, but they weren't quite identical. They don't look in the mirror quite enough to have as solid of a mental image of their own face compared to their friends'; replica-Frisk not having a face felt more like meeting a different sort of monster after a while.

Now, Frisk sort of understands why people were so off-balance when meeting their copy for the first time.

They shake their head. They've got a problem to solve. "Okay...okay. Okay. I'm gonna go find...something. We'll be right back," they assure, taking a step back and glancing between both Gasters.

[voidster]

A nod from Runester. [He should stabilize eventually.]

And carry on, as he always has. Nothing to worry about, right, Frisk? He's only a silly old man. It'll pass. That's simply what's expected of the pair of them.

[dustless]

They think he will. It just...might take a really long time without sleep. Or monster food, but that's even more impossible.

Frisk nods firmly, grabs their double's hand and darts off.



They're gone for nearly an hour. For most of it, they just searched through rooms, hoping they'd find some of cart. It was only after they found themselves in a sunnier part near the gardens that they're hit with the idea of a wheelbarrow. Of course. There are several of those among the trees and flowers, though most are tipped over on their side, and every single one is incredibly filthy and have splinters poking out.

Frisk plucks off the ones on the handles so they can use it right. They consider removing a lot in the barrow's bed, but there's just so many and they don't want to leave the Gasters alone for any longer. Besides, he's all goopy, nd he said he couldn't be hurt--they really, really hope he wasn't lying.

And, after hefting the wheelbarrow with Frisk, they also hope his room's on the same floor as he is right now.

[voidster]

Of all the counterparts he has and he's seen, felt, been, only one has returned to reality permanently. How, he couldn't tell you. Not under his own power, because the one who managed to find life again did so long after he lost his mind. He sits there to this day, a shapeless blob with hands and eyes, unable to communicate or understand a word people say to him.

Is this only the beginning? Will he become a mindless lump himself by tomorrow or the next day or the next? What else could be more terrifying that hasn't already happened?

By the time Frisk returns, the pair have moved a few steps down the hallway. That's all Runester was able to force Gaster to do. They're sitting side by side now, close enough to touch, but not doing so.

[dustless]

Frisk returns with the wheelbarrow making odd scraping noises, their runeshadow keeping pace half a step behind as always.

They're somewhat surprised they're closer together now, and don't quite notice that they've moved. They weren't paying attention to exact position when they found the pair.

"Back," they puff and wheel to stand beside the meltier Gaster. Something in the back of their throat tastes like copper, but they ignore it. "Now we gotta get you in this," they bend down and say into where his ears should be.

[voidster]

[Up.] says Runester, hands in front of Gaster's line of sight and sticking to the simplest one word instructions. He's catching on... slowly. [In.]

He stands a moment later and indicating the wheelbarrow. Get in. It seems to click for the poor fellow after a few seconds and he heaves forward, guided to sit inside it by Runester. Who clearly means to push it himself now that it's here with them. No sense in forcing a small child to do it, it's heavy.

[dustless]

There's a kick of discomfort in their chest. Simple orders, but orders, not...asking. Frisk guesses he might not be able to understand 'asking' right now, but that doesn't stop the feeling.

Their eyes dart between Runester and Gaster, reluctantly letting go. They're already strained, and if this copy can do it, fine. "To his room," they say, positioning themselves on one side of the wheelbarrow, Frisk on the opposite.

[voidster]

(Neither of them likes the other and that really shouldn't come as a shock. One's a fool, dooming everyone including a child for the sake of not killing, and the other is a soul-and-mind-sucking abomination. Go figure.)

He lets go of the handles long enough to say one more thing. [Thank you. Sit with him--on him, if you want. Talk. It may help.]

Because the two children apparently care about helping Gaster, who was an idiot even before he ran into the dog. And because sitting on him is fairly comfortable and won't do him a bit of harm.

[dustless]

"Huh?"

Well. They kind of do need to sit on him, if they're not just going to be pacing alongside him--they really should've took the time to pull the rest of the loose splinters out.

They exchange a look with their other self, simultaneously shrugging and clambering up. It may help is better than nothing.

Frisk settles cross-legged onto his...stomach? Place where a human's stomach would be. (And Frisk sits on where his legs should be, facing away. Their face might bother him.)

"Gaster. We're going to your room right now," they tell him. "D'you still have those pictures?"

[voidster]

He's the only beanbag marshmallow waterbed thing in the entire castle. The best chair, really. Couldn't be less bony.

With hands on the handles, Runester is very much shutting up. It's all up to Gaster and his fraying thoughts now. Damn kids, not murdering when he says please...

[Yes. Yes. Two in the bag.] Which Runester thoughtfully is carrying himself. Too important to be left behind.

[dustless]

In the bag--? Oh.

They eye it, and they eye Gaster. They'll have to stand up or climb him to reach it--asking Runester to pause and hand it over doesn't occur to them.

"Not all on your wall? Got pictures on mine. My friends drew them." Chara and Frisk--Frisk and Chara, more like, Frisk more than the latter, though every picture is equally precious.

[voidster]

[No.] No, again. He can't remember what his reasoning was for not placing them on the wall. [Safe. In a book.]

Medieval scrapbooking with 21st century photos. Life is strange like that. Being in a wheelbarrow with a faceless freak pushing you and two children sitting on you is weirder.

[dustless]

"A book? Like...they're flowers?" Pictures tend to be digital back home--flower-pressing obviously can't be, though they don't have too much firsthand experience in that.

Frisk's just going to talk about anything and everything that pops into their head. To ground him, they hope. "Do you like flowers?"

[voidster]

[Flowers? In a book?]

Considering the extreme lack of types of flowers in the Underground... no. Echo Flowers are too big and Golden Flowers far too important.

[I like Asgore's flowers.] Flower-King is his rendering of Asgore's name. They'll understand.

[dustless]

"In a book. You...make them flat in the pages, so they stay good. Somebody tried that with some library books an' got in trouble." Or so they heard. It was a weird, sort of boring story their mama told them about her days in high school.

"You--" Oh. Oh. They do understand, but only after a panicked moment of thinking of Asriel. "--yeah, those were pretty. Never got to have the tea he made with them."