i promise that i'm gonna pay you back [closed]

[skelebro]

Who: Carlisle, Frisk, and Sans
What: Sans has been learning glyphcrafting. He brings a child with him, as you do
Where: Delight's Bar
When: 2/08
Warnings: Nothing serious, will update if necessary



[So this is lesson two, now, and it's about time to start shakin' things up as required. He's been picking up the starting pieces, the basics, and if they're gonna be doin' them some refreshers, then he might as well bring along a friend for the finer points.

He did offer, after all. It weren't a promise, but it was somethin' important, and he's gotta be doin' a little better, right? That's what he told himself. What he told them. And you don't change a kid's mind overnight, 'specially not one as stubborn (though some might use the term "determined") as this one, but maybe you give 'em a reason to keep going, if they can. You give 'em a reason to stick around.

You give 'em something to look forward to.

And so that's how Sans heads to Delight's place with a kid in tow. Unbeknownst to Carlisle, this private lesson's about to become a double feature.]

Comments

[save_theworld]

[They'd almost forgotten that he'd offered to involve them, honestly. The peace of that sunny afternoon on the beach is a world's difference from what they'd been dealing with recently; which is all the more reason for Frisk to drop everything they're doing, in order to tag along.

Magic. They can learn magic.

Some people might call the look on their face "determined". Others, who know them a little better? They might call it nerves. Either way, they stick close to Sans, politely refraining from the urge to grab a fistful of the back of his jacket. They can do this. It's fine.]

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle is already set up in one corner of the bar by the time Sans (and company) arrives, having pushed a table over there for them to work on. It's not so bad, he reminds himself, to teach someone who already knows some semblance of magic to further manipulate that energy for a very specific application. The basics of glyphcrafting had gone well, so perhaps, after a quick review (because after all that had happened in the past month, a refresher could not hurt), they could move onto actual channeling. While glyphs are a perfectly acceptable method of first aid, they're not nearly as practical in a pinch as simply being able to channel the magic oneself. Not everyone has the mental fortitude to scrawl a glyph while they're bleeding out, after all.

Of course, it's much harder to teach channeling than glyphcrafting, but in an unusual moment of optimism, Carlisle thinks that it might actually go well, so long as there aren't any surprises like "the magical skeleton is wounded by the positive energy of healing after all" waiting in the near future... or that said magical skeleton might bring a kid with him. That, too.

Carlisle glances over at Sans as he makes his way toward the corner, a faint, but polite smile gracing him.]

Sans.

[And then his eyes flick to the skeleton's side, his brow furrowing. Is that someone hiding behind him, or did Sans grow another pair of legs?]

[skelebro]

Heya, pal.

[He gets the urge to reach up and pat the kid on the shoulder, or ruffle their hair, or somethin' along those lines. Ridiculous, right? He asked 'em real nice and careful if it was okay before he gave 'em something as simple as a hug, and even then that was couched in flinches and nervous twitches, like they were scared to let go, scared to hold on, scared to accept the touch for fear that it might go south.

Guess he'll have to stick to good old-fashioned verbal comfort. 'Cause he just excels at that, don't he?]

Y'met Frisk? Friend of mine. Real good kid.

[Hardly a glowing commendation, but it's best if they start off on good and even footing, yeah?]

[save_theworld]

[Sans is making an attempt. They can appreciate that, at least. The 'Real good kid' makes their appearance around one questionably rounded side of the skeleton, looking up at a man they've probably seen around, at least once. That's just how it was in this city.

But they can't think of a time they've spoken to him. The fact that he's only acknowledged them with a look down and a furrowed brow isn't promising.]

...Hi. [So they wave, wrack their brain for the polite thing to say. What would an adult do, right now?] Um.

Nice to meet you.



[Nailed it.]

[tongueamok]

[Despite the polite introduction, Carlisle looks at Frisk with all the warmth one might give to a cockroach, assuming that cockroach had walked up and tried to shake his hand.]

The same.

[This is a man who clearly knows nothing about dealing with children, and possibly doesn't want to know anything about dealing with children. His eyes flick to Sans and back in the silence that follows.]

Well. It was a pleasure meeting you, ah... [Lad? Lass?] Frisk, but Sans and I have some business to attend to, so...

[And another pause as he waits for them to fill in the gap.]

[skelebro]

['Course they nailed it. Carlisle's the one with the social instincts of an Aaron on stilts, and he can already picture Frisk takin' the dismissal to heart, shrinking on back and slipping outta the room before anyone can say anything different.

So Sans holds up a hand, bracingly.]

Nah, I figure they could stick around. Learn somethin', y'know?

[Hope you don't mind, buddo.]

[save_theworld]

[Sans thinks it, Carlisle says it (very clearly, Frisk thinks. It's not a dismissal up for debate), and Frisk is already starting to turn on their heel when the skeleton makes to stall. He said he'd put a good word in for them.

Young as they are, they don't think about the fact that, perhaps, he should've put the word in before they arrived. Nothing to it now.]

...Please? [The word comes out sounding like an apology, rather than a request.] I'll be quiet.

[tongueamok]

Learn... something.

[He minds, Sans. He very much minds. Carlisle laces his fingers together, grinding his teeth behind his closed lips, wearing creases of uncertainty into his face.]

This isn't exactly an observational craft, Sans.

[skelebro]

[They say the word like their very presence is an imposition upon the whole shebang, like maybe it merits an apology or twelve, 'cause they're - what? Such a burden? Such a problem for everybody?

Well.

Fuck that.]

Don't see any reason why they couldn't learn a thing or two, along with yours truly. 'S a whole new thing for both of us, y'know?

[What he's saying, albeit in so many words, is that - congrats, Carlisle. You now have two students for the price of one!]

[save_theworld]

[They should really just go.

They really should, and they mean no offence to Carlisle, by staying. The simple fact is that if they leave now, Sans would probably get upset; at the both of them. If they stay, Carlisle would be mad too-

It's a catch 22. Not a comfortable one, at that. Fingers curling into their sleeves, Frisk says...nothing. It's not really up to them.]
[And good children know when to be quiet.]

[tongueamok]

I agreed to teach you, some kind of magical undead. Not a child.

[No one has ever claimed Carlisle is good with kids. He has a second thought almost immediately after that last word leaves his mouth.]

... This isn't some... magical child from your world, is it? Where everything is apparently made of magic whether you know how to use it or not?

[skelebro]

[He lifts a phalanx, his tone never deviating from its amiable done. The pinpricks of light in his eyesockets, however, seem to have locked onto Carlisle with an atypical, narrow focus.]

First of all - I'm a monster, not an undead. We've covered this. Secondly - their name's Frisk, and I think you'd be surprised.

[Might not be magic in the conventional sense, but it certainly is a sorta power, and that might translate into glyph-crafting. And god knows the kid could use a break, for once in their life.

Speakin' of which.

He drops his gaze to the kid in question, on account of - they're bein' real quiet. They said they would, and they usually are, but it pays to check. To ask 'em instead of makin' the assumptions he seems to be so good at making.]

You doin' all right?

[save_theworld]

[He is arguing for them- now, which is better than never. Carlisle doesn't approve of them at all, and the conflict stands as it did before; who do they let down? Sans, or a man they don't know?

When he glances down at him, they're fairly certain who they're more afraid of letting down. As it turns out, even something as negative as that can fill one with Determination.]

I'd like to learn, please. [Their voice is still soft, but they lift their head to look at Carlisle, and keep their gaze steady. Hands tucked into their sleeves, hiding any sense of nerves in the fabric.] I'll be quiet.

I want to know how to help people.