[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]

Their killer doesn't seek them out. He's beaten them to the new room, though. Jackpot. It'll be nice to have some variety again, like he did in life.

He's already wearing an interesting new suit when they enter the scene, and collecting a wide range of other pretty outfits, filling an entire wardrobe with just what he wants. Greedy, greedy, greedy. The whole thing is going to end up teleported back to his room. What does it matter? The castle always provides more.

"You're feeling better." he says, barely glancing at them. They'll... probably not mind him sticking around.

time means nothing

[voidster]

Someone else's rebirth, too. No black and white gooman here, only... a skeleton. One with a familiar cracked face.

Sometime even later, he's in there too, because he desperately needs something to wear. Right now, his entire outfit is a blanket... heaven forbid someone seen naked bone. Outfit. Food? Maybe he'll run through the halls, simply because he has the ability to be quick again, not a shambling mass of goo that sticks to itself and must be willed into shape. Nice and light on his feet, due to weighing next to nothing!

He's smiling. And humming eeriely, because control over his own voice was something he missed. And he's oblivious, as he digs through shirts for something appealing.

sunflower kid feat. old man

[dunwhale]

Daud's found a better sheath. It's almost like the one he had back in Dunwall, actually, and his blade is a reassuring weight against his hip.

As he's made a habit of he's making his way down to the courtyard in the gardens to strike at nothing, and to scan the castle for any way to escape. The pull of the void is strong, here, and he's started the makings of a shrine that he always seems to find no matter how the castle's arranged itself, but the Outsider has so far refused an audience.

Bastard.

Daud doesn't quite make it to the courtyard. Instead, he sees a small body coiled up under the cheery heads of sunflowers.

Frisk is in for a surprise when they wake. Daud, cross-legged and a few feet away from them with a book open in his lap. Ports of Call, it is, dog-eared and well-loved.

"I was wondering where you'd gotten off to."

[lyseandpurge]

They are not free of her. Some wounds cannot be simply healed; some wounds only heal into more terrible wounds. But Judgement waits, almost courteously, until they are alone and without distraction, before she makes herself known.

The fragment of the cell they have inside them beats with a vibration through their bones, and soaks their insides with an uneasy wave of warmth. Thick, blinding static fills their mouth and their head and worms its way out of their nostrils: Judgement.

She is much smaller this time—barely more than a few motes of black oil forming around them, slipping through their fingers as easily as a stream of bubbles on their way to some surface far above. Brief glittering flashes of pink, uncomfortably bright, are all they can see of her eye as these traces circle around them. She is near yet distant, oppressive yet not unbearable.

i'm sorry, she says. you fell. Her intrusive voice heralds another rush of heat and resonant noise.

so late

[realkidswearstripes]

MK opens doors with their mouth, which would be gross if monsters could catch anything from a germ. That would be why their parents never told them to cut it out, and that’s how they’ve gotten in.

Neat. Dress up.

“Hi Frisk!”