hadriel_logs | I've fallen off the wagon, dear.

Entry tags:

I've fallen off the wagon, dear.

Who: Chara and You!
What: There's something everyone fears and a certain demon finds Chara's. Possessions happen.
Where: Everywhere.
When: Throughout the Fadeout event.
Warnings: Violence, references to child abuse and suicide. Character death in the locked thread with Frisk. Will update if needed. Prose or brackets welcome!

Open; Arsenic or heroin. Pick your poison, fast my friends.

[They say it's easy to convince a child of anything.

Their imaginations and knowledge were malleable as they were young humans. A little snip here, little snap there and it's done. Children believe in Santa Claus, magic and all sorts of wonders. And they feared things in equal measure, the monsters under beds and that live in their closets. In their homes and in their hearts.

But sometimes it's not so easy. Some close off their hearts for many reasons and layers of a paradoxically powerful and flimsy armor keeps them safe. It had been interesting to see that, feel that. Have to dig farther and farther into a dream to find the nightmares this child had hidden under long sleeves. Chara feared failure for many reasons and feared the results. Feared words rather than knives and a 'hurt them before they hurt you' mentality. LOVE. No...that other sort of love. So very, very interesting. So delicious.

They say it's easy to convince a child of anything. Sometimes it's just easier to offer them an out.

It's not hard for the Fear Demon to slip out of the Spire this child called 'home' either. The other one they shared room with seemed used to them leaving. And so it walked. To the stores and eat as much food as it can without getting caught. A child is always asking for food after all. And then, once it has had its fill....the Fear Demon finds a medium sized rock.

There was much meaning in whatever this child was. A number hung over their head like a noose and it seemed to be in proportion to the violence they had wrought in their home. So it throws the rock through the first intact glass window it can find. No blip, but it does feel good. Very good.

But the sound has likely attracted someone's attention. It turns and smiles at whoever may be standing nearby.]

Greetings.

[What are you worth?]

Closed to Frisk and Co.; The world is coming to an end and we're all gonna die!

[It's very close to what it assumes is night time in this place. Regardless the Fear Demon has not gone back to the child's home and instead continues to wander the streets. The memories they had dug through indicated that this child shared a relationship with the other one that was far deeper than most children. Deep enough that they would likely noticed any differences that their...."Partner" suddenly developed.

Besides...by this point it had found a few lone monsters to test out this interesting weapon, so it would be fairly obvious by all the blood coating its clothing that something was wrong. But with supposed night falling it was easier to get the drop on whoever or whatever it ran across. Whatever sort of this strange, red magic that came from the 'Real Knife' made its own light if it was needed anyway.

It had left the network device back in the Spire so it was unaware of any messages that may have been sent throughout the day. It likely would have not replied, too busy slaughtering smaller monsters because it seemed right to start small. A frog came to mind. But the streets are quiet enough that the Fear Demon can hear the footsteps - running, perhaps? - loud and clear.

Turn and smile. No point in hiding the bloody weapon behind its back because the clothing would give it away. Maybe...its game was nearing the end. But for now, turn and smile and greet. Because it knows the magic words to refer to this new child.]

* It's you.

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[It's not so much a sinking suspicion as it is the usual fear that comes with each and every event. These magical issues have done them and their friends no favors; and Chara is included in that, always included in that. It makes sense to take to the streets, it makes sense to try and find the few people they keep going for.

It...it makes sense to be a little concerned, that Chara left their phone behind.

And there's so much blood. If this is a shock to them, it remains internal, their expression stoic as they nod- it's us- holding out their hand.]

...Give me the knife, Chara.

[Let's go home. Forget all of this, and let's go home.]

[Perspective, even if the whole 'bloody clothing and knife' was a tip-off. No real reaction but it had memories of this child that were like that. Murdering monsters without much of an expression. They were more animated when they choose to befriend but it all had to do...yes, the child they were possessing felt as if it was their fault.

Well it really didn't matter. 'Chara' isn't here and can't answer the phone, so to speak.]

Why do you need it, Partner?

[Said more like the title it was rather than the warm familiarity that Chara usually used it. The Fear Demon had no use for names or nicknames, but it's not like they didn't have their use. And the child before them was capable of horrible things...but would they kill their best friend?]

I don't. [They have their own, remember? Just a small hunting knife, but on a child of their side, it's practically a small sword. Tucked away against the small of their back, hilt digging into their spine. An unfortunately necessary reminder.] But you don't need it anymore.

[Don't make them do this, Partner. Frisk slowly offers a hand, palm upwards.]

[It shuffles through memories for a use, a meaning in a certain word for this. Both of these children were about the same size so there was no advantage there. Their numbers were different, a 20 against a 1 and the Fear Demon was sure it meant that this body was stronger.

And it has that word to work with. The distance was far enough that they would have to walk towards it to get the knife. So it smiles and holds it out.]

If you insist.

[* 'Chara' is sparing you...?]

[There's something

Terribly off, about this. That sense of unease crawls up their spine and into Frisk's shoulders, leaving a tension in it's wake that they can't quite shake off, as they take a step closer. Another.

Chara doesn't scare them at all. So why, then...]

...You're really just gonna give it to me?

Of course. We're Partners, right? I see no reason why I shouldn't give this to you.

[No reason to give away a weapon from a child who always was armed. Always had that option to FIGHT. Sure, they had their fists but here in Hadriel nothing functioned like the Underground and its Monsters did. Nothing could be reduced to dust with just one hit.

'Chara' holds out the Real Knife like someone may have once held out his arms for a hug before gutting them like a fish. Smiling, like the demon it was. Chara sometimes smiled for the sake of looking creepy but this time it came far to...natural.

And, well, it's not like they'd ever try Sans' brand of MERCY, right...?]

[They have no reason to be frightened of Chara. It's a mantra in their mind at this point, like a fruitless attempt that denying what's in front of them; they want to ignore the warning signs, so they do, shuffling closer with a small smile, always providing trust, always giving that. It's what Chara needs most of all, they think; someone who believes regardless of what others might say- regardless of what their heart is saying right now, thudding rapidly in their throat.

Frisk comes close and reaches out, willing to keep believing until they have no choice but to let that idea go.]

[It has those memories of their Surface life and everything that happened. Those moments where they lost trust of someone, grasping for hands that slipped out and left them in the dirt. After all, the only way to know that nobody was going to come was because you called out enough to know it was pointless.

The angle is awkward but the Fear Demon manages it, drawing the blade up as fast as this body would allow and swinging it in an arc. The same way that saw a skeleton dead, almost cut in two. Laughing because it brings something to mind.

* YOU IDIOT.]

[Frisk isn't Sans. Frisk isn't Chara either, and whilst dodging has always been more their area, Chara has always, always struck at the heart of the matter.

The awkward angle can only spare Frisk so much; a stumble back that stops their ribs from being split open, but does nothing to protect them from the knife's point, material of their sweater sliced open from sternum to shoulder and accompanied by white hot heat- not the direct hit 'Chara' aims for, but good enough. More than just a smart.

HP 14/20]

[They don't even remember pulling their own blade out. It's just there, in their hand, the heavy weight of the handle keeping Frisk tethered each time their foot touches the ground; still moving back, because they don't expect Chara to be playing by the rules.

Alright, so. Demons in the city. Wonderful time, yes?

No. Not really.]

Chara.

[One. Just this one chance. Please, partner. Please stop.]

[You could even say it was a Bad Time. But it's also not time for jokes. Still, even as a true Demon Frisk knows their 'partner' so well.

When did they ever play by the rules?]

It's me!

[Not a narration, not even the cold nature of the moment those words were uttered to a mirror in New Home on the most dustiest trail. It's not them. Never going to be, no matter how many times Frisk calls for them. It charges forward for a stab and they should know what's coming because it's Chara.

Because even this Demon can't QUIT.]

[No, it's not.

Firstly, yes these things can be killed by normal means.

It is Chara, and whilst the demon knows them, Frisk has always been well acquainted with their demons. They don't have the time to make a judgement; they just move, a sidestep that SPARES them by a hair's breath, still close enough to hear the thwip of metal whistle through air.

You won't stop here, will you? You'll kill all of them; monsters. Humans. Everyone's hopes and dreams.

Do enough damage and they will die just as well as anything else.

They can't allow that. They're sorry, they're so, so sorry, but they can't allow that.

Wherever you are, remember they love you.

Is it their turn, now? Hopefully, because they move anyway. Gripping the handle of their blade as they swing it round aiming to strike high and sweep low in a quick, diagonal motion.]

[You won!

Memories can be such a powerful thing, when they've repeated so many times. And the amount of times Frisk has heard those words is somewhere in the thousands, undoubtedly; always said with the same, chipper tone, but a hundred different meanings behind it. Surprise, triumph, delight-- a different kind of delight altogether, the type that sent chills down Frisk's spine until they'd won often enough for it to no longer be an issue.

With a memory so powerful, perhaps it's of little wonder that they forget, for a minute, that Chara isn't still in the back of their mind. Chara's a corpse on the ground, one they stare down at until their eyes water and they're forced to blink, and the staring begins again.

Their knife is slack in their fingers, but it's still there. The heavy handle tethers them where they stand, and absently they're certain it's the only thing that keeps them from floating right off the ground. They can't quite place where they are, anymore, or what any of the distant sounds of the city mean.

Two children play in a muddy-

No. No, that's wrong.

One child stands under a mountain. Nothing really changes, after that.

Haha.]

[It's not the first or last time Chara has been hurt. When they shared a body there were the Monsters of the Underground and their attacks, intentional and unintentional. Then the path of genocide and the Undying and Sans, and there was so much blood and gore. What a lot of those Monsters didn't realize was that humans were so messy when they died like that.

It turns and a blade rips through the fabric of the child's sweater, slicing the arm that it brings up to block. Messy! So, so messy. It laughs because that was not the arm the Real Knife was wielded with, even if it was now out of the picture. The Fear Demon tries for another stab, aiming for the child's chest. Without their that arm, it can't block again.

Oh well, right?]

[He was there when Chara died. Nothing in the world could pry him away from his vigil. His parents had understood his devotion to his best friend, hadn't known how to deny him the chance to be by their side - even if they may have wanted to spare him the moment of their death, none of them really understood how to tell when a human was too sick to keep living. Every time they thought it surely couldn't get worse than this, it lasted another day. Asriel snuck out to gather another bouquet, and nobody thought to examine his itchy blistered paw pads.

He knows what death is like for humans, because he was right there watching. He knows it's very red. They'd coughed up so much. It had splattered out from a body impaled on thorny vines again and again in sickeningly juicy waves. He knows death so well he's totally hardened to it. Soulless, apathetic, uncaring, too tough to bat an eyelash.

But he can't find Chara, can't find Frisk, and he's been looking and looking, and -

And he sees that pooling redness again.

Frisk stands with a knife in their hand, just as they did in many timelines, and

and

and Chara

Chara's body lays in a bed of golden flowers as horrified whispers ripple all around them.

No, no, not right, no. There are no flowers. They don't even get to rest among their favourite things. Chara lays small and pitiful and messy, and Frisk stands over them with a knife in their hand, and this - this is all just a bad dream, right? This isn't real. He isn't really seeing this.]

Chara?

[His voice feels so tiny, so faint, so wavering that it may as well not even exist.]

Chara, get up. Chara...? You have to get better.

[He'd only just found them again. This can't be... it can't actually... was this all just to see them disappear again? He's staggering past Frisk on paws that feel like they're rooting into the earth, feel so alien and heavy they barely know how to walk. Has to reach Chara. Has to grab their soul before it cracks, or they'll vanish forever, and how could he even imagine living in a world without Chara? How can he lose them again?!]

You're Chara. You have to stay determined, Chara. Please - Chara, please!

[Asriel is Chara's brother. He's watched them die before, and he helped them do it. The he took their SOUL, and their body, and then he died, too. Frisk knows all of this now- knew the last part, at least, before they even came to Hadriel. Chara is gentle with him in ways that Frisk's never seen them be to any other person, and Asriel becomes a little happier when they're with him, a little more alive.

Because neither of them are supposed to be alive, really. They've been dead for so, so long, since before Frisk was even born, and they never should have met each other at all. That's not how death worked, or it's not how death was supposed to work. The Underground didn't offer much except an extended nightmare; but Hadriel.

Hadriel. Hadriel. They chose to stay here, didn't they? To stay with Chara, and Asriel too. In their home, a little three bedroom apartment with colored pictures on the walls and way too much stirfry, way too much soup. Frisk had one shirt as a change of clothes; a big, baggy thing meant for an adult that said You've been HADriel in blocky red letters, that came down past their knees when they did their laundry, and everyone was happy.

This was their second chance.

Look at what you've done.

They watch Asriel push past them, listen to his cries as they gain in urgency and hysteria, and they want to tell him, kind of. The words are there at the forefront of their mind; too late. They're already gone.

Frisk says nothing. They just watch, quietly, expression impassive and body lax, as a brother tries to wake the sibling he thought he'd never see again, the one they just murdered.

They're sorry. They had to.]

[Stabs always look kind of cool, and they're effective when you hit- but when the enemy has space, and they're fast, it's not always effective. It can be turned against you.

Frisk drops. A split second reaction that saves their chest but clips their ear, takes off a chunk of hair when Frisk's knees hit the ground, and Chara's body overextends above them, taken off balance by the momentum of the thrust. They don't think, they don't.

It's not careful thought that has them thrusting the blade upwards, pushing it into Chara's stomach. It's thoughtlessness.]

[They don't answer.

They don't hear him calling them.

Ha, ha... of course they don't. Chara's gone, right? No matter how he protests, no matter how he pines, no matter how hard he fights to keep them around, they're gone. They slip out between his desperate fingers like... ha ha, like dust. All that remains of someone made of compassion and love. The one person who he cares about more than anyone, the one person who could understand him, the one person who meant everything.]

Don't kill, and don't be killed.

[His voice still feels strange. Too muted to matter. Too faint to actually exist. But that was - it was the one thing he... what was all of that for, if it wasn't that? How could Frisk go so far to prove that the world was a forgiving and merciful place, then just... then...

He scoops his paws beneath Chara's body, but he no longer has the strength of a god. He's not strong enough to carry them home. He can only kneel next to them, hug this hollow, bloodied thing, press his face against their hair and desperately seek what's left of the warmth and scent he went so long without.]

You knew what you were doing, didn't you.

You're laughing at me, aren't you?

[There's something very Flowey roiling in his chest. It feels - it feels like numbness. Like trying to seek the explosive love and sorrow and devotion he knows he feels for Chara, but not feeling anything at all.]

You just wanted to see me suffer.

How could you - how could you work so hard to prove a point, then throw it in our faces? How could you go so far to prove I did the right thing back then, and just - just take them away from me?! I thought you were better! Why did you kill them?!

[Children were fast. That was a given because they were small and thus took up less space. Could move quicker than one might expect and it should have expected it from this child.

Chara had slaughtered those Monsters. So had Frisk.

The blade sinks into the sweater and then the skin like hot butter. It's easy when there's thoughtless force behind a thrust. Never give yourself time to think. Never give them a chance to move.

It has a second to feel it, a second for shock to run across its face as Chara's body drops like a puppet who's strings had been cut suddenly. It doesn't matter if Frisk's blade is taken down with it. The Fear Demon's fingers claw at the wound but there's no healing magic to be found here. All it can do is stare up at Frisk and look scared.]

Y...y-you...killed me...?

[When Chara drops, they feel the pressure on their blade, and Frisk should let go. They should, but it's theirs. It's theirs, and right now, they need it more than Chara needs it in their stomach, jerking back and taking the blade with them, too young to consider any extra damage they've done, too young to think that, maybe, they've just sealed that death sentence completely.

You killed me? Chara asks them, and Chara's

afraid. Of them.]

I had to. [That's not an excuse. They've killed before; there's no excuse. You can't kill one person, because they'll know. Everyone will know, and they'll hate you for it. There's no good excuse for taking someone's life. You could do a little better.] I had to- Chara, I'm sorry.

[And again, desperately.]

I'm sorry.

[It hasn't been a real good day.

That's kinda to be expected, honestly. Demons runnin' around in the city, real, honest-to-god demons and not kids with knives and strange red eyes, and then one of them gets Sans pinned up against a wall, spoutin' all that shit he keeps shunted to the side at all times. He's tired, all right, he's goddamned tired.

When isn't he, though?

And, like he does for every event that sweeps through the city, like he does whenever things get too loud in his skull or too difficult to bear, he defaults to that single, basic goal:

Find the kids.

He never did real good at keepin' his promise, did he? Not for either human kid, and it's a real good thing they look after each other, 'cause he sure as shit never did a thing for either one of 'em. And with Asriel in the mix, that trio can take care of each other, and it'll all be well and good, yeah?

Yeah, 'cept neither Chara nor Frisk seem to have enough self-worth to fill a thimble. Chara doesn't call for help. And Frisk, Frisk looks at themself when they're cut and bleeding and dying, and they apologize for getting blood all over his jacket, like that should be his primary concern.

When he finds 'em, though?

That sure as hell wasn't what he expected to find.

There's a knife. There's a hot, sick red spilled out across the ground. There's a green shirt stained brown and red, a body overly limp, overly pale, hair falling unevenly over a face with eyes that're clouded. Clouded, but still - red.

And Asriel's clinging to 'em like he's scared they'll never come back.

If he wasn't one hundred percent on his hypothesis before, he sure as hell is now. And, heh, he kinda hates that he has it in him to make that kind of cold assessment, just casually tick that box while he's watching two kids process grief in two radically different ways. The doc would be so proud.

He can put together somethin' else, too, huh. Somethin' about how the kid hadn't gone through killing everything the last time they went through the Underground, about how Chara is their partner and the two of them are a well-oiled machine, practically a matched set. Somethin' about how this wouldn't happen for no reason, and hey, there's a pretty great reason plastered all over the network regardin' how demons are up and possessing people.

Sounds about right.

Sans stops, equidistant from both Frisk and Asriel, hands in his pockets, defeat written solely in the slightly lower slope of his shoulders.]

Oh, kid.

[It's inevitable, at this point, the Demon thinks. A child couldn't stand to lose all that blood. So...it may as well...

Go out with one last comment.]

They were...filled with fear when they answered me. Answered their...well, I suppose monsters really do run...in their family. And their friends.

[It coughs and the mangled mess of a SOUL rises, cracking at the already frayed seams. The sight...it's rather pretty. Ahahahha...it really is.]

* You win.

[And the SOUL breaks.]

[They don't argue against a word he says, for all that's worth. Some of those words they've never heard before; some are all too familiar, and they wonder if he knows what he's doing, too. If he wants to see Frisk suffer, even though he hasn't really looked at them. That's okay.

They're not really looking at him, either. They're looking at the body he tries so hard to pick up, the head that slumps against his shoulder, limp, and glassy eyes that stare off into nothing as he asks them why, why.

Oh, kid. Says Sans, and his disappointment is palpable before they even turn to look at him. He looks so, so tired- about as tired as he had when he let them use his jacket as a blanket, when they apologized for getting blood on it. Perhaps that's...that's due to the blood on their hands, and the torn material across their chest that's soaked in more blood, their own skin sliced open from sternum to shoulder, and their free hand reaches up to- to close the gap, a little. SPARE him, even just a bit.

Why did you kill them, screams Asriel. Oh, kid, says Sans, and they know they've- they've really done it this time, huh? That's it; this is the end.

There's no such thing as Home.

Frisk only has one thing to say to that.]

...Can I use your shower?

Are you JOKING?!

[Too Floweyish, too Floweyish, but he can't stop it, he doesn't care. Kind, gentle Frisk, who knew it was better to never fight back, who proved that he was right when he didn't fight back all those years ago - the sort of friend who made sense of everything for him, who could even feel endless love and devotion to a cruel, vicious stranger - and they won't... they won't answer him? They won't even tell him why he's had to lose Chara all over again, why they had to suffer at humanity's hands again?

They don't even listen. They brush it off. Ask some stupid irrelevant question like they don't even care Chara is dead. The whole world is ending, Chara is gone again, and they just want a shower.

He wants to scream at them to reset. To LOAD this away - he'll know, but he won't judge, not if it saves Chara. Not if it keeps them here. He can't do it in front of Sans, though. Can't give everything away. Can't let him know. Have to - have to swallow all the flower petals inside of him right now.

He can't bring himself to raise his head. Can't bring himself to separate even the tiniest bit from Chara's body. Can't bear the thought that someone will just toss them into the basement to rot like an outdated appliance. Can't stand the idea that he'll glance away and they'll be gone without a trace.]

Answer me, Frisk. Answer me, please! What was so worth it that you had to kill or be killed? What was more important than - aren't they your friend too? Tell me why, please, just tell me!

[They probably read disappointment in the words. Don't matter if he means it or not, and the point is that - he does, kinda, don't he? He's a bit stricken, or the closest a guy like him gets to stricken. Seein' things go this way - he hadn't expected it, and Asriel's words are a fractured, desperate indictment.

He's gotta deal with this. Once again, he's gotta be the guy who cleans things up. The janitor for every twisted piece of fucked-up shit in the universe. The garbage disposal of all the things gone wrong. Heh. And he ain't even a little bit good at his job.

Let's start with the obvious, huh?

In times of crisis, deal with the quieter ones first. Chara's already outta the picture here: they're quiet, but not in a way he can help 'em with.

So next he looks at Frisk evenly, dips his skull in a tiny nod.]

Sure thing, kid.

[And then - Asriel. He's still puttin' it all together, and he's a little more invested, got too much of him tangled up in his sibling to be objective and callous and distant in the way Sans is entitled to be.

He moves over to the crown prince's side, his voice low, the words quiet.]

I don't think it was Chara anymore, kiddo.

[Asriel always did talk to them like they knew better than they really did. And still, Frisk doesn't seem to have an answer for him; what does grab their attention is another knife, just mere feet away. It's bloody as well, and they think- well.

They think Chara wouldn't like it, if they left that behind.

Funny how he keeps asking them questions he doesn't really want them to answer.]

...They didn't want to hurt anybody. [Crossing that small distance, Frisk leans down, scoops up the knife and wipes the blood onto their sweater. They don't think it's salvageable- they need new clothes.

Chara never would have forgiven them, if they let themself die. It's a hollow sort of comfort, the type that has their throat drying out as their grip about Chara's knife becomes white knuckled. They need new clothes- and some bandages, probably. Absently, they're certain the only reason they aren't dizzy is due to not really being much at all.

A shower really isn't that big a request.]

[He feels like he's going to explode. Why is everyone so apathetic about this?! Why are they brushing it all off so offhandedly? It's such a struggle for him to feel anything at all, and yet he seems to be the only one who even cares!

There are things he doesn't get. The intricacies of these little events Hadriel brings upon them. How much blood a human can actually lose - Chara coughed up a seemingly unlimited supply in the agonizing span of time it took them to waste away. The billion justifications and excuses and circumstances that could be used to soften this blow.

All he knows is that his best friend is dead. The friend he always wished he'd had killed them. And they aren't even going to apologize.]

Then WHOSE body is this, you SOGGY TRASHBAG?!

[He's shouting, screaming, being too, too Flowey, but how can anyone be calm when Chara is gone? When Chara's been hurt, yet again. When Chara has to be the sacrificial lamb, yet again. Always suffering for the greater good, so nobody has to bother mourning them, right? It was for the best!

It's hypocrisy. It's so stupid. Frisk didn't try to cut down the godlike obstacle who tried to bring the world back to zero, because they knew their friends were in there somewhere. So why not Chara? Why didn't Chara deserve the same? Why?]

They hurt me! You both hurt me! Now they're gone, and I -

[Don't want to live in a world without love. Don't want to live in a world without you.]

Did you even try to reach them? Spare them? Did you even try? You knew how to SAVE everyone else! Why not them?!

Edited (i've been playing 'theys' so long i keep using it for asriel fugkc) 2016-11-28 06:18 (UTC)

[He's starting to scream. And maybe - yeah, maybe they're all bein' a little too calm about this. Frisk has locked down, and it's what they do, he knows that. He's long since accepted this sorta thing as just somethin' that happens, a little odd murder between friends, heh.

Ain't that a laugh.]

There's demons runnin' around the city, Asriel. [He ain't sure if the kid has a phone, or if he missed the PSA, or if he's just in denial, or what. It don't really matter, he don't think.] If they get close enough, they can possess you. Almost happened to me.

[And it would've, too, if Wade hadn't intervened.

And Frisk - their movements are stiff, automatic, mechanical. He knows that look. It's the distance, the buckled-down flatness that comes with the upward tick of a number. And - yep, he can see it for certain now.

Their LOVE increased.

Yeah.

Sounds about right.

He looks to Frisk for confirmation. They didn't want to hurt anybody. And that's the thing that, uh...

That's the thing that gets him.

He believes it.

They didn't want to hurt anybody, says Frisk, and once he might'a scoffed at that, but now, now? Now he believes it. And they must'a thought that there wasn't any other way around it. Maybe there wasn't. That's what everyone was sayin'.

They'll never know now.]

They'll be back. Hope brings everyone back after a few days.

[They appreciate that Sans is being so quiet. By contrast, the ever rising pitch and tone of Asriel's voice is grating, hitting whatever soft points are left. If they were alone, if they had another room, maybe they could hunker down somewhere, just to feel...

To feel? Ha ha, no, it doesn't really work like that. They know what they're feeling right now. It's just not pleasant, is all. It's not right. It's not his fault he's asking them about things that they couldn't really do; he thought so much of them, and they let him down. Are they sorry about it?

Yes. No. They don't know.

It's a little confusing. The one thing that does stand out, the one thing that makes them look up isn't anything Asriel said at all.]

He does? [Yes. No. Please, please yes. That all feels a little too much like hope, which feels a little too much like something positive, which feels like- like vicious, angry tremors racing through their body, shuddering in full.

Wow. Wow. Haha, they never could die when they were supposed to, huh? Chara would be so disappointed.]

[Whatever it is, it really doesn't understand monsters, does it?

Monsters are not a scary thing. Monsters are kind, when you let them be. They love you, and care about you. Give you some good food, some bad laughs, try to be your friend. If you're good. If you're very, very good, and don't step a toe out of line.

Monsters don't cause frayed seams and broken hearts.

That's what humans do.

Humans are very good at watching people leave, and doing absolutely nothing about it.

So that's what Frisk does.

You won.]

[They're ignoring him! They're ignoring him! This feels like the end of the world to him, and they won't even respond to a single word he's been saying! He wants to scream louder and louder, wants to snare them in a circle of friendliness pellets and MAKE THEM listen, wants to snatch their precious ideal ending right out from under their nose. Has he gone invisible? Have they just decided that he isn't worth it anymore if he isn't an obstacle to their end goal? Are they not speaking to him because he obviously has another friend he cares about - a friend who's gone and it's all their fault?]

So - so what? It doesn't matter? They're still dead! They still hurt! They're still CHARA!

[It was something he was sorry for, right? Something he understood as wrong. That terrifying, painful death at the hands of strangers all those years ago - Chara had felt it too, and in their case, every single one of those strangers must have been someone they knew. All those times he surrounded a red SOUL with bullets, all those times he obliterated them with lasers and vines and reloaded over it just to do it again, all those times he unleashed starstorms and lightning to shatter a fragile heart... even if they were fixed by a LOAD, even if they refused, even if they reset... it was wrong. It was wrong, it was bad, it was hurtful.

This is too hurtful. Too hurtful to bear.]

It's not okay! This isn't okay! Why did they still have to die?!

[Did they not - know that? He might've never mentioned it, huh? Sounds like him, honestly. And the shiver that runs through 'em, that might be a shred of hope too, of some kind. The hope in knowin' that this sorta thing ain't permanent.

He's gotta work this out. He's gotta work this out, and he's gotta make sure Frisk gets cleaned up and that Asriel doesn't completely lose what's left of his shit - too late for that one, huh? - and he considers phoning Papyrus to make sure Frisk makes it to the house all right. Then he realizes that he probably doesn't want 'em anywhere near Papyrus. Not with all that fresh LOVE in their heart, and not with a pair of knives.

He don't feel much like taking that risk.]

Hope's gonna bring 'em back. Ain't the first time he's done something like this. Sometimes with everything that happens...people get hurt. People die.

[He looks to Frisk slowly, carefully, almost warily.

Maybe a little too warily.

It's hard to tell how much of them is gonna remain in permanent shutdown from here on out. Still, he keeps his tone quiet. Low. Gentle. Adopts some sort of semi-soothing cadence if he can. 'Cause they've gotta sort this out now, and they can't do that if someone's not there to make sure things don't escalate.]

Kid. Frisk. Can you maybe...tell us what happened here?

[Does he think they don't know that? That it's still Chara? Does he really think-

They wish Asriel would just shut up. Stop saying the same things over and over like they don't understand; they do, they get it. There's a reason Sans keeps looking at them like that, and a reason Asriel keeps talking at them like they've broken every promise they've never, actually made him. Because it is Chara and they get that.]

I would have let them kill me. I know- I know they're

[More important and it really isn't up to them to make that decision, they don't get to decide to hurt someone else and it's never, ever okay to hurt someone if they've hurt you first, what they've done has no excuse, but-]

It wasn't their fault. I would have- let them...

[Their excuse is so poorly executed and weak, still clutching those shreds of their sweater together, fumbling with a knife in each hand. Covered in red and trying to make up excuses when they can barely hear themself speaking, and it all sounds wrong.]

It wasn't their fault.

[That's NOT an EXPLANATION!

Flowey's shrieking that, Asriel's sucking in a big hiccupy breath to shriek it, but he bites his tongue, digs his fangs down on his lip. Squeezes his eyes shut, because he can't bear to stare into those empty eyes. He can't think straight when it's Chara. Can't seem to switch off, like he learned to do when it was Toriel, Asgore, himself, Papyrus, anyone else. He'd gladly die a hundred times over than spare Chara from having to experience death for a third time.

He - he wants Chara. They never talked to him like he was stupid, never acted like he was too much of a baby to be told anything. They would help him make sense of this. They would explain why this person who worked so, so hard to show him that it didn't have to boil down to kill or be killed, that making friends just meant getting hurt - they would explain why this person would go back on all of that. They would explain why it was always them who had to go, who had to vanish somewhere Asriel couldn't find them, had to leave him behind, desponded and hollowed-out. They would understand how overwhelming this all is, how crushing it is - how much it aches to finally see a person you thought would never come back to you, only to have them ripped away before - before you had the chance to do anything! They wouldn't expect a magnanimous, polite prince. They'd expect Asriel. They'd tell him big kids don't cry, but let him sob and wail into their sweater. They would tell him what he could do now, instead of just feeling like whatever pathetic fumes were holding him together had scattered like ash.

But wish as he might... nobody came.

He knows he has to set them down. The supply of redness in them is actually finite, and it's going to dry on his shirt and in his fur in sticky, matted clumps. The warmth fades, they go all stiff and strange, they stop looking human. There's nobody inside this shell anymore. He can't wake them up. He can't take their soul.

But it's... it's hard. He doesn't want to let go. It feels like he's betraying them all over again as he lays them back down, wipes his stained sweater over his eyes, even if that just makes a worse mess.]

We're not saying it's their fault.

[It's YOURS, hisses Flowey, the cavernous emptiness inside of him feeling like it's expanding, clawing at him, like it might tear him to shreds in its eagerness to escape and swallow everything up in awful black nothingness.]

How... how do we ask Hope to give them back? Should we stay with them? They won't wake up still... still hurt, will they?

[The body looks awful. He doesn't dare open his eyes. Doesn't want to look at the hideous damage Frisk's knife - Frisk - a knife - ...doesn't want to look at the damage.]

[It really ain't much in the way of an explanation, no. But it says a lot, at least to Sans's own ossicles, that those are the words Frisk defaults to. Informing the both of them, or maybe just Sans himself, that it wasn't Chara's fault. Expecting them both to place the blame on the kid's shoulders, maybe.

Given the things he's told 'em both, it ain't such a stretch.

"Your judgement. It does not apply to them as they are now."

Truth be told, he ain't sure what kinda judgment he can apply to anyone anymore. He's always done that job 'cause no one else was there to, and now he's wonderin' if it was worth it, playin' that little game with a kid's self-actualization on the line.]

Most of the time they show up in Hope's temple. Good as new.

[He's been around the block enough to know how resurrection typically works around here. Seen it in Kate, in plenty of others, and maybe he's just been lucky thus far in not havin' someone he knew real well kick the bucket.

That luck was bound to run out at some point.

He reaches out with one hand to rest it on Asriel's shoulder. He's got no idea if the kid's got any sorta distaste for touch the way Chara seems to, but he looks so hopelessly at sea that maybe he might need somethin' to - to anchor him, a little bit.

Maybe. That's the HoPe, huh?]

I can take 'em there if you want, kiddo. 'S no problem. And you two can head back to my place, get cleaned up.

[He knows a shortcut, after all.

Ain't that a laugh.]

[Is there really a reason they're still here?

Once, when they'd been tired, and lost- they went the wrong way. Back through Waterfall, like the path was unbroken, capable of being crossed by tiny, exhausted feet. They'd never met that monster before- they never met them again, but some words stick, and some words pierce through the heart.

Have you ever thought of a world where everything is the same, except you don't exist?

They can have a shower later. They can do a lot of things later, on their own. You do it, because otherwise, nobody else will. That's how things work. Asriel refuses to look at them. Sans is concentrating on him. Chara

Chara can't help anyone, right now.

Light footsteps, careful not to make a sound. If they're capable of it, Frisk will just- back away. Disappear. It's probably the right thing to do.]

[He doesn't want to leave Chara. He doesn't want to be alone with someone who's shutting him out completely, won't answer him, won't just talk to him. Someone who would hurt Chara. Someone who would take Chara away.

Asriel has no time to spend with someone like that.

He shakes his head.]

Let me come with you. I want to stay with Chara. I... I'll need to know where the temple is. I'll need to know where they'll come back. Please.

Okay, kid. No problem.

[But Frisk is quietly melding off into the dark, and he ain't about to let them glide on off without makin' sure they know what's what. They can't be in a real solid place right now, no more than Asriel can be.

So he pauses to look in Frisk's direction, deliberately. His tone's level.]

Y'know where my place is, kiddo. You can head on back there. Papyrus is probably around. He can show you how to work the shower.

[Not that he's real comfy letting 'em back in there right off the heels of killing someone they obviously care about so deeply but - Papyrus can handle himself. It ain't like Frisk is stab-happy. They're in a real, real bad place right now, and maybe Papyrus can devote some attention to makin' sure they get through it. God knows Sans can't split himself two ways on this one.

It's harder when someone ain't really movin'. Easier to just kinda ease people along together. But he moves on over beside...the kid. Where they're lyin' prone. Just lying there. Unusually still and god but maybe the whole "dissolving into dust" thing - maybe that's a luxury. 'Cause this. This is hard, hard to look at and harder still to stomach.

That one's a joke, see. Everyone's laughing.]

In the meantime, I can get us to Hope's. [He makes a sound, and it'd be generous to call it laughter.] Know a...shortcut. Yeah.

[A pause in their steps. Frisk nods, somewhat jerkily, before moving on. They don't look back- there's nothing there for them.

It's kind of funny.

In that small, pleasant space; the first apartment they'd had, with two rooms and a television with a VCR player, and pictures on the walls; colorful, bright pictures, because despite everything Chara still had a love for colors and when they were feeling exceptionally nostalgic, those pictures were a veritable rainbow- they'd thought, for a while, that this was what they wanted. Content with their lot in life; two kids in a quiet living space, just trying to make something of what little they had left.

Maybe...maybe they resent Asriel, just a little. For coming along and telling them about all the things they should be, but aren't. Maybe they should be angry at him too, because it was all just

It was fine, before.

And now it's not. It's just unfortunate that they can't really blame that on him.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

I've fallen off the wagon, dear.

Closed- I believe the world is burning to the ground!

oh well I guess we're gonna find out~

let's see how far we've come~

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1/2

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For Asrool and Snas

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hello its me asREGRETS

hello asregrets it me, fruckthisshitI'mout

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welcome to asrihell

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kids could you lighten up back there

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what's that? can you eat it?

sounds like a cryptid tbh

chupacabra. goatsucker. i knew it.

ah, look at this goatsucker. asleep in some bloods.

THIS IS THE RUDEST THING IVE EVER SEEN IM SUING EVERYONE

eNGORGED ON THE BLOODS

hey asrool ever heard of rigor mortis cause that shit's probably gonna kick in real soon

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whats that (spikes charas body into flowerbed like a gardening stake)

talk about a high stakes gamble

I'd call it a royal flush but this is probably closer to regicide

im gonna jump off the regiSIDE of a bridge if yall keep this up

that'd be a crowning achievement

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