Frisk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dustless) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
castle_perrault2018-01-07 03:57 am
dustless) wrote in castle_perrault2018-01-07 03:57 am
Entry tags:
let it snow, here we go! [age event: begin]
//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.
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
Skeletons hate winter? Frisk looks at all the snow surrounding them. "...Mm?" But he's out in a lot of it, just like them.