let it snow, here we go! [age event: begin]

[dustless]

//Everyone seemed down for it! Any thoughts or questions can go here~

The air sharpens and chills, frost crawling from the top of the tallest towers and branches to creep along the castle grounds. The trees with leaves quickly fall bare; the sky bubbles with clouds not long before they start sprinkling snowflakes over it all. Winter has finally settled in.

It's not all iciness and faded colors--in fact, it's quite the opposite. While outside is snowy, sparkling winter, inside changed to match. Most of the rooms alone can't keep out the cold, but fireplace after fireplace spring up to crackle merrily and invitingly. Someone (or something) set a mood for celebration, decking the halls with evergreen branches and baubles, glimmering ribbons and candles, color and cheer! And the kitchens have feasts to match, any sort of roast and pie one could hope for, paired with mashed potatoes and puddings and cookies and drinks.

Even the halls ring with celebration. In the distance, voices are caroling their hearts out. It's a pity they always seem to be moving too far away to meet.

All this will greet the castle denizens when they wake up in the morning...as well as changes to themselves.

Not that they'll always know. The child who will one day be Frisk certainly doesn't.

All they know is that it's cold, and Mama--who just cut their hair for reasons they don't understand--is nowhere to be seen.



...There's doorways inside, but they make themselves heard long before they get all the way to the big walls. They've got a toy firetruck in their hands with tons of buttons, and they slam their fingers on them to make the siren go off.

WEE-OO WEE-OO WEEE-OOO! Mama's gonna hear that no matter where she is, and they don't even need to open their mouth.
 

Comments

[sansational]

Sans winces as he sees them trip, sees them fall. He does try to catch them, acting on impulse - Frisk might feel a bony hand fumble to close on the back of their shirt, trying to pull them back, but too slowly to prevent them from faceplanting hard.

And now they're just crying. That is...this is fine. This is not fine. This is one of the single most upsetting sounds he's ever heard oh god. Sans' first thought is that he should go find Frisk to help him deal with this crying child and then he remembers that Frisk is this crying child. Which just means he should go find Tauriel. Or maybe Serif.

"keep it together, pal," he mutters to himself, slapping both his hands against his cheekbones. What is good for crying children?

Frisk might see Sans flicker in and out periodically in the corner of their vision as he tries a few different things. He sets a cupcake down on the snow in front of them. And then a small wooden horse. And then their vision will go dark as he just tosses a heavy blanket over them, as if to belatedly make up for their hard impact into the sharp edges of the toy truck.

And then he kind of just...sits down with a sigh.

"i'm not gonna like...eat you? is that what you're worried about? where i come from, people think skeletons are, y'know. soft and cuddly. and full of calcium." Calcium is important for humans, right?

[dustless]

Now they're hurt (not badly, but they're already bruising a little underneath their shirt when they roll off their toy) and scared and cold. This is just how it is now, curled up in a snowdrift and wishing they were at home. Why'd Mama get lost? It's not fair. It's bad.

When the ghost thing gets closer, they shove their hands over their face, they're not here.

The blanket gets another sad noise and they flail upwards, half-sitting up before they see what it is--they're cold, so they pull it around themselves anyway. And then they look to see the...presents on the ground.

You're not supposed to take things from strangers. You're not supposed to talk to them, either, but they don't want to talk now anyway.

They draw the blanket up higher, hiding half their face. Maybe he's lying, 'cause at least he's not soft. But--eating kids, that's what zombies and vampires do, right? Not...ghost skeletons. They've never seen a skeleton ghost on TV.

Can't stop crying, but burgeoning curiosity makes it less body-shaking. And they have a whole blanket to wipe the snot off with, and they didn't take it, so that means it's good.

[sansational]

He can really only guess at what's going through their head, here. Frisk certainly didn't react like this the first time they met him, but...he wasn't the first monster they met. They must have known what to expect, under the mountain, but knowing and seeing can be two very different things.

He's even only mostly sure that this is his Frisk - their soul is still basically the same, but it's like the one he's familiar with is compressed down into and hidden beneath this younger, small soul. It's incredibly distracting.

Still, he's not about to leave them here. It seems like he's making progress, even if only because the shock is wearing off or whatever bruises they're developing are more painful than he is scary. Moving as slowly as he can, Sans moves around to sit down in front of Frisk, though he keeps the cupcake and the toy between the two of them as a metaphorical wall.

He taps a fingerbone to his teeth, obviously thinking hard, before clicking his fingers. Ah!

"hey, kid. why do skeletons hate winter?"

[dustless]

The kid shuffles back a few inches, but lets him sit. It does make him seem smaller to their eyes, and a little less scary. A little. It's weird how he keeps smiling at them all the time, they think, without a thought to his lack of lips.

Skeletons hate winter? Frisk looks at all the snow surrounding them. "...Mm?" But he's out in a lot of it, just like them.