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_perrault2018-02-18 09:32 pm
dustless) wrote in castle_perrault2018-02-18 09:32 pm
Entry tags:
springing [age event: end]
All across the castle grounds, anyone awake to observe the midnight hour is witness to snowdrop flowers bursting from the snow.
The air settles to something softer, warmer. The layers of ice and snow start to melt away, enveloping the world in a gentle fog, though it will still be a few days yet before the slush outside dries away.
Almost tentatively, more flowers push their way from the ground; leaves on trees bud and start unfurling by sunrise.
Inside, the distant caroling and laughter gives one final burst of cheery sound before fading into nothing. Between one blink and the next, the castle is back to how it was; faded, old, quiet.
And, of course, the changed beings of the castle will find themselves back to how they once were, with added remembrance of everything that happened while the world was encased in winter.
Frisk's change back is...uncomfortable.
Judgement's sickness takes hold of them again, but at least it's a jerking shift all at once, instead of making all their teeth fall out and changing everything back over the whole day. They've even got some energy.
Their body not feeling completely awful is absolutely made up with their head. They weren't too mean, but they weren't nice, either, and they couldn't help their friends. But their mama's still gone. They didn't think they'd ever see her again, but at least they accepted that. They missed their friends before, but they never missed home. Homesickness really is a sickness.
And...and they don't have their truck anymore. Which is tiny and stupid but it's the thing that tips Frisk over the edge again, trying to hold something big and solid in their arms and not finding anything.
Inside the castle, Frisk hides behind some ratty curtains and sobs into their scarf.
//don't forget, even if this is making it 'official', backdating for more age-related shenanigans is absolutely allowed!
The air settles to something softer, warmer. The layers of ice and snow start to melt away, enveloping the world in a gentle fog, though it will still be a few days yet before the slush outside dries away.
Almost tentatively, more flowers push their way from the ground; leaves on trees bud and start unfurling by sunrise.
Inside, the distant caroling and laughter gives one final burst of cheery sound before fading into nothing. Between one blink and the next, the castle is back to how it was; faded, old, quiet.
And, of course, the changed beings of the castle will find themselves back to how they once were, with added remembrance of everything that happened while the world was encased in winter.
Frisk's change back is...uncomfortable.
Judgement's sickness takes hold of them again, but at least it's a jerking shift all at once, instead of making all their teeth fall out and changing everything back over the whole day. They've even got some energy.
Their body not feeling completely awful is absolutely made up with their head. They weren't too mean, but they weren't nice, either, and they couldn't help their friends. But their mama's still gone. They didn't think they'd ever see her again, but at least they accepted that. They missed their friends before, but they never missed home. Homesickness really is a sickness.
And...and they don't have their truck anymore. Which is tiny and stupid but it's the thing that tips Frisk over the edge again, trying to hold something big and solid in their arms and not finding anything.
Inside the castle, Frisk hides behind some ratty curtains and sobs into their scarf.
//don't forget, even if this is making it 'official', backdating for more age-related shenanigans is absolutely allowed!
no subject
"There were mages, back where I came from. With loose morals and even looser concepts of respect." And an ancient dragon god of destruction unimpressed with humanity hell bent on destroying everything, and lording it over those left in their wake using the faces of those who would hurt the most, but he doesn't say that aloud.
(He's grateful to Naga, for her counsel, and general apparent benevolence, but can't quite entirely stamp out the barest flicker of resentment that what feels like it should have been an affair for those designated as gods was left for those below them to deal with. But then again, maybe that's only his forgotten upbringing as Grimleal speaking. Not worth thinking about.)
Instead, he unfolds his arms and raises a hand to allow a few tendrils of aimless dark magic to curl out from it, slow and soft flickers of violet-black.
They bounce, a little, when he waggles his fingers, miming puppetry. Then it all vanishes as he releases the nosferatu spell again.
"I'm glad, though!" he follows up. "That you have family here." Skeletons made of magic, and not of someone's remains. Certainly a form to be given them, and rife for misunderstanding... he'd suspect a joke were it not for how fervent they are. No, the child cares, and he can't fault them for anger when they're only defending the ones they're close to. Something about the thought strikes true, somewhere, and- he almost smiles.
"Are you the oldest, then?"
no subject
Frisk's eyes snap to the stuff. Magic. He's a mage? Something like that, but he probably doesn't want to be called that. Even Frisk started disliking being called 'human' before their SOUL got messed up into...whatever it is now, whatever they are now.
Still, their head's a little less jumbled now. He's been so calm, and it's easy (and hurts less) to latch onto old bad things than new bad things. "Magic humans--mighta been called mages--locked monsters underground where I'm from, a long time ago. There was a war. 'Cause they were scared. Got trapped there for a really long time. Magic got forgot, the monsters got forgot. Then I fell in and broke the barrier and saved them. Don't want humans to hurt the ones that got here."
And then they just nod a little awkwardly. It's a weird subject for them, family. Toriel was going to be theirs, but that's not ever happening now. They certainly don't want it to.
"Second, I think. Serif and Papyrus're just babies, but they...grew fast, so they're like kids. They're taller than me," they tell him with a frown, but they loosen up at the same time and it's a really big one. Exaggerated effort, it doesn't actually bother them.
(...usually.)
no subject
"...A thousand years ago," he begins, "where I came from. There were different races. Humans- and other. There's, ah, a lot of others out there, but let's just call them all Taguel for now so it's easier, okay?
"Anyway. Back then, humans treated Taguel like... servants." Slaves, more like, like they were things and property instead of people, but he's amending it slightly based on his estimation of their age. "Worse than prisoners and livestock. They were treated horribly. If they ever did anything slightly wrong they were punished harshly. Because they were different, because they looked less than human. There were rabbit people, cat people, bird people, lions, wolves, and more, I'm told. Dragons, too."
A short sigh, his arms folding back over his chest, more in the shoulders than in his breath. "This is just what I'm told, though, because the thing is, none of this is in the history books."
"... I guess my point is, we do some pretty terrible things to other people when we're scared, don't we? And then we forget, and we erase it. If you wait long enough, it's like you can pretend it never happened, if no one still remembers it." His smile is a little flat. "I won't try to hurt anyone who's had to deal with that sort of thing, believe me."
no subject
His son might show up, or he might not. They weigh whether or not they should say so, and maybe they're guiltily relieved they don't need to decide before he keeps talking.
'Servants'. Frisk understands the implication regardless. And with stuff like wolves and dragons, no doubt plenty of those Taguel were used to fight, too. More weapons. Dolls. Things.
Anger they had left drains out. "Yeah. Good. Thanks. And...sorry." They exhale and straighten up when it catches a little. No more crying. And to clarify: "You don't scare me. I was angry at something else first."
no subject
Then his head tilts, a little owl-like. "I'm guessing your brothers aren't the only monsters here?"
no subject
Tap-tap-tap, they pace around him and offer an arm. If he wants to try. He might pull them down instead, but that doesn't occur to them. "No. There's...goat-monsters kinda human shaped, or ones that look goopy, and robots. I think. Right now. Sometimes people disappear, sometimes they come back. Dunno why or when. Um, there's a giant diamond--she's not a real monster, but stay away from her."
What are they forgetting? A lot of things--
"Name's Frisk," they add. That isn't the most important thing, but it might make things confusing later.