not so dustless now

[dustless]

In one of the castle's many halls, a worn tapestry, depicting nothing in particular, succumbs to age and rot and falls.

Behind it lies a door.

Behind that door, should anyone decide to investigate, is a musty-smelling room with drawings papering the walls, corners gently curling in, and dust covering every inch of furniture; a desk, a chair, a bed. 

Despite it all, the bed is occupied. 

Frisk lies there on their side, half-covered in blankets, exposed skin and shirt just as dust-coated as the rest of the room. Their chest raises and falls shallowly enough that a spider's made a fancy web between the collar of their shirt and a hand curled close to their body.

It might take a little work to rouse them.

Comments

[notme_anymore]

Oh, how strange. Rose thinks she's seen them before. It's been so long, she can barely remember.

It's strange to find herself in such an intimate-seeming moment; she feels as though she's intruding, though by the looks of the layers of dust, no one's intruded in a long time. Maybe it's about time. Rose isn't entirely sure how... this could happen, this kid frozen in sleep (it's sleep right--? Yes, their chest rises and falls) with even cobwebs forming between them. How long have they been here? Why? Did the castle do this?

She's getting real tired of not knowing.

"Hello," she greets, crouching down (her long trench coat kicks up the dust along the floor) and putting a hand on their arm.

[voidster]

Very, very strange. He's not sure the kid will ever wake up, honestly. But he hasn't given up on them yet--or maybe it's become routine to check on them every day. Sometimes more. Time is a bit tricky when one never eats or sleeps. He's tried to clean the dust only to see it reappear in minutes, when he's not looking. That seems cruel, but he can't exactly go file a complaint.

So if he's going to sit and read, he may as well do it in here. They'll be angry again when they wake, of course, but that's better than feeling like they've been ignored. Discarded. Forgotten.

[buttercup_uneaten]

It took some time for Chara to gain their bearings. Perhaps understandable, when one finds themselves suddenly in a place wholly unlike their home, with a sky that’s far too big and nobody you recognize anywhere. Still, they’re very glad nobody found them while they were hiding in between a pair of pillars, clutching their knife tightly. Such a position would be… unfitting for an Evil Magistrate.

(Even an Evil Magistrate who has not been this terrified since they were a child.)

In fact, they had not seen anyone before they stumble upon the human child in the dusty bedroom.

For a moment, Chara thinks the child must be dead- they’re so still, and they’re covered in dust and cobwebs. But while the room smells musty, the scent isn’t how they imagine rotting flesh to smell. And when they creep closer to the child, they can see the slight rise and fall of the child’s chest as they breathe.

‘Is this the work of human magic?’ they wonder.

But as this child is the only living being Chara has seen so far, they decide waking them is their best shot at getting some answers. Grimacing a little at gross dust everywhere, they reach out and brush the child’s cheek clean with a gloved hand.

“My child,” they whisper, leaning over the child’s ear. “Wake up.”