[slightly backdated revival post] good morning sunshine!

[dustless]

 It's too bright. Sharp stuff prickles against the back of their neck, and something else smothering weighs down over most of their body. They're lying down. They were being carried, but then they fell. Got dropped. Something. Their eyes hurt and they're not even open yet, it's awful.

Frisk flings their arms over their face to block out the first thing. In doing so, they discover the weird weight is, in fact, their shirt and probably also their pants.

Right. They died, and they forgot just how unpleasant the castle's revivals are. Not nearly as nice as just reappearing at the last SAVE point. Everything is...a lot. Like waking up for real, except the nap was three days, and their body hadn't felt anything in that time--

There's a weight in their chest. They can feel the very shape of it right now, the diamond. Her. She's not gone, and they're--they're torn. That's bad, that's not a fix, but it's good they don't have to go see Judgement to get infected again.

They peek out of the space between their arms and find themselves staring at the morning sky in spaces between flowers. 

Between...sunflowers. 

The castle woke them up on top of their first grave.

...

They're tired. They don't like any of this. The most important people can find them by their SOUL.

Frisk rolls over, shuffles deeper into the flowers' shadows, and doesn't move until they fall asleep.
 

☼


Later--a lot later--they're heading in the general direction of their room when they find...a door. The door itself isn't weird, but when they look closer, there's a strip of cloth sticking out from under it.

The room they find behind it is magnificent. To them, at least, now that they're feeling well enough to run around. It's full of wardrobes, and the wardrobes are full of robes and suits and dresses and capes and crowns and necklaces and ruffles, and they are going to take advantage of this by trying on everything that catches their eye, yes they are.
 

Comments

[silvermists]

"Buttons." Bland, with a ghost of a smile. That almost never happens. Savor it--he's prettier when smiling. (The sickness is just barely starting to show, he looks fine.)

He can feel his crime against them crawling on his back, as he says not another word and handles a dark green dress instead. First person in this world to say men shouldn't wear dresses goes off the edge... fuck society, he does what he wants. Takes what small harmless pleasure he can before he starts sleeping his days away again.

[dustless]

They're glad to see it! It's barely there, but it's real and seems nice.

Frisk heads sort of in his direction, but there's a bunc of wardrobes with half-open drawers sticking out of theirs fronts and sides side. They yank out and put on a bangley purple necklace from one, and then by the time they're over by Kuja they've somehow found a bracelet with pale feathers hanging off it. "Here!" They hold it up--it matches his hair.

[silvermists]

Funny, it does match his hair and the dragon feathers there. Almost like it was deliberately created or placed there for him, as well as where Frisk would see it. How interesting. Does the castle have a mind?

He's never found a place where its soul might be hidden.

"Very nice, thank you." He even puts it on--and then goes for the drawers of jewelry himself.

[dustless]

Frisk has plenty of thoughts on that, but he'll have to actually ask.

They clap in delight. "Welcome! And, um. Thank you too." Kuja should know what they're talking about there, right? But dwelling on it might be uncomfortable, so they immediately switch tracks right back: "Are you looking for...stuff? Something, or just anything that looks nice?"

so old

[silvermists]

Yeah. He does. Hard to forget you threw a sick child to their death a few days ago, even if you're a born killer. He doesn't actually murder that many people with his own hands, after all, and only two died via Kuja in the castle so far.

Isn't it sad that he automatically thinks 'only' two murders and 'so far'? And that there's nothing he feels he should say about it?

"Oh, I don't have anything in mind. You're welcome, by the way."

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ also suicide tw

[dustless]

That's just how things go in the Castle, sometimes. It's not fair, but they're working on it.

They nod slightly. Hesitate, then: "I'll try not to...do that again." Make him do it, that is. Another death is most likely inevitable, they'll just have to take care of it a little earlier next time.

Frisk spins, one quick whirl blurring the room's details together. "Never saw this place before. Hope we don't lose it!"

[silvermists]

"Really." he says, flat and disbelieving that very much. There's a sickness in them, he can sense both it and it's source, and he highly doubts they're going to seek a cure. It's somewhat frustrating, because if his own sickness were that easy to be rid of, he would have. Is it better to make him kill them multiple times, or to ask him to kill Her once?

But the mood passes quickly, or is simply pushed away. He's only a weapon. He'll never be much more. Even a child can see it. He's plucking out a few pretty bits of jewelry, most with red stones. "Take it while you can."

[dustless]

There's a reason they're sick. It's a choice they made.

Sort of.

They stop to skip to the first wardrobe they see. It's full of circlets, so thin and delicate they nearly don't want to touch them.

Of course they do anyway. "Should probably grab all the stuff we like," they say agreeably.

[silvermists]

(He couldn't possibly understand. Even a normal sort of friendship would be daunting to him.)

"And that's what I'm doing." See? The green dress and the fancy stones join the other stuff he's stashing in 'his' new wardrobe. Probably it'll be fine. Nothing he wanted to keep in his room has vanished.

[dustless]

(On that note...)

It's not as fitting as the feather necklace, but they're still in a good, sorta silly mood--they twirl again and beckon to him. "C'mere!"

[silvermists]

Aaand he arches a brow, turning around. "Why?" Ah. "You're far too short."

[dustless]

"Nooo, you're far too tall!" They're absolutely bouncing on their feet again.

[silvermists]

"True. I was born taller than you." And then he grew slowly, rather than ever going through a growth spurt--perks of being a weird gengineered feathery thing. He doesn't obey, not quiet, but he does sit down on the lip of the wardrobe's bottom. There. Less tall.

[dustless]

"No faaair."

Good enough! A few prances over, and they change their expression into something approaching solemn. "A great crown. For the Too-Tall King Kuja."

A very succinct speech. It's not like they know what coronation's really like.

They lower the circlet onto his head, careful to keep it straight (and not mess up that strange tuft that sticks right up).

[silvermists]

Not a tuft, a small cluster of feathers, and the damn things never lie flat. Most people assume they're not natural, so there's no reason to pluck them out...

There's that faint almost-smile again. He's certainly not bothering to play the part of someone happy. Maybe he's lost his touch. "Lord King Too-Tall Kuja." he corrects, not harsh about it. "There really was a Lord King in one of the cities of Gaia. Don't you think that's ridiculous?"

[dustless]

He's magic, they've seen weirder stuff. Pulling someone's feather-hair would be rude...though there's an urge.

"Lord King," they say gravely.

Then they drop their hands as well as their serious face. "Really? 'S just saying 'king' twice, right?"

[silvermists]

"No." he says, giving them an odd look. They deserve so many odd looks, really. "It's a title for any noble, not just a king. Didn't anyone teach you that wherever you came from?"

[dustless]

"No. Not a lot of kings or nobles. There's a King of Monsters...and a Queen, and was a Prince, but I don't know any nobles of monsters." Frisk hums, adjusting their jangly necklace. (They've tied their scarf around one arm for safekeeping, which looks fairly odd in and of itself. It's pretty ragged by now.) "'Less a Royal Guard is a noble."

...Lord Undyne sounds pretty cool.

[silvermists]

"I doubt it. That sounds much more like knighthood." Chin on hand, elbow on knee. "What sort of government do you have?"

[dustless]

Knight Undyne. She'd like that better. Papyrus too, they bet.

"Um. There's a President. But I might...Asgore, the King of Monsters, mighta been my King if I was back where I came from though."

[silvermists]

"Oh? Are you a runaway?" When all it takes to wind up in another kingdom is to make it to another city, and that's all you know, really... possible.

"Funny. You know far too much about me and I know nothing about you."

[dustless]

First instinct is to shake their head--but that's not...entirely wrong. They ran away from home, but there was nothing left at home. They ran away from nothing, literally, 'cause everyone needs something or they go crazy. Which they sorta did.

"I...left. I climbed a mountain, and monsters lived under it. Fell in."

They let their legs fly out from beneath them, crashing to sit on the floor. "You never found any of my papers. Or talked to my friends? Or other Frisks?" They're softly unsettled. Kuja's completely right; they know miles more than he does, and they never realized it before.

(no because I fail to tag on time)

[silvermists]

"Who's to say what I've found out is actually about you?" he says first. Good point, isn't it?

"What made you run away to monsterland?"

pff. /pats

[dustless]

Maybe. Frisk's pretty sure they're the most popular them in the castle, though.

And there's a heavy question. They're slow to answer, carefully wording and simply trying to remember.
Feels like three lifetimes ago, and it's really hundreds more.

"...Didn't have anywhere else to go. My...mama, she was gone. So I just left. Didn't...know they were under there. Monsters were just stories."

[silvermists]

It's only fair. It's not right that anyone should know a damn thing about him beyond what he chooses to reveal.

And... well, that happens all the time on Gaia, where they've barely begun using steam power. Very few people care about orphans. He's not surprised. "Was it you who said once that they were sealed away down there?"