[They die with a smile on their face-- it's the only answer Frisk has the strength to give, and the only one coming, for several moments. They're a dead weight in Chara's arms, red dripping down onto the pavement as their head bumps Chara's shoulder, before limply hanging down, bare inches from the ground as well.
Her pie always made them so happy. Goatmom. Mother. Mom.
Her pie made them happy too. So happy, they'd almost never wanted to leave.
When they inhale, it comes with a wretched sounding cough, one hand curling over their stomach as their mind adjusts to which way they're supposed to be breathing, right now. Inhale? Exhale? They always get those messed up. Too much detail for a kid to keep track of, though they've always tried to inhale sharply before a SAVE. It's always more likely they're going to gasp out than breathe in, if anything happens.]
I- like her pie too. [Mom. They liked that feeling, that word. Mom. They don't dare ask, even now, but they've always wondered what it was like, to have her as their mother.
They've always wondered about how quiet Chara gets, whenever they fight her. Whenever they fight Asgore. And whenever they walk through lonely homes and dusty rooms, collecting knives and lockets as monsters tell them the history of the Fallen Child, and their beloved sibling.
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Her pie always made them so happy. Goatmom. Mother. Mom.
Her pie made them happy too. So happy, they'd almost never wanted to leave.
When they inhale, it comes with a wretched sounding cough, one hand curling over their stomach as their mind adjusts to which way they're supposed to be breathing, right now. Inhale? Exhale? They always get those messed up. Too much detail for a kid to keep track of, though they've always tried to inhale sharply before a SAVE. It's always more likely they're going to gasp out than breathe in, if anything happens.]
I- like her pie too. [Mom. They liked that feeling, that word. Mom. They don't dare ask, even now, but they've always wondered what it was like, to have her as their mother.
They've always wondered about how quiet Chara gets, whenever they fight her. Whenever they fight Asgore. And whenever they walk through lonely homes and dusty rooms, collecting knives and lockets as monsters tell them the history of the Fallen Child, and their beloved sibling.
They still don't ask.]
...Let's keep going.