hadriel_logs | do every stupid thing that makes you feel alive [mostly closed]

[As far as plans go? This one's pretty underhanded. But he's already lost a trio of friendships - the kids are an "all or nothing" kinda deal, he's long since learned - so what else does he have, really, to lose at this rate? Trust weren't much of a reliable commodity in the first place.

If Asgore figures it out, then he figures it out. Maybe in the long run, he'll be grateful.

Maybe he won't.

Point is, at least he and the kids get to have a nice day to themselves, before the storm inevitably breaks. Orchard's a nice place, a pretty place. Maybe somethin' nice can grow, just before it all goes to hell.]

[As soon as he gets the go-ahead that Asgore's headed out with the kids, he gives it another hour, in case things are slow to start with. He don't bother showing up; it'd be a real shame to ruin a nice thing, wouldn't it?

Instead, he fires off the heads-up, as planned:]

place is empty.
meet me once you're done?
i'm at the lake.

[...]

i owe you one.

[They're liable to figure it out pretty soon, he's sure. Can't rightly be sure as to what the fallout's gonna be when they do; all he knows is that this ain't gonna be a quiet blow, one way or another. If Alphys is any indication, they don't much know how to put on the proverbial brakes. When they lash out, they lash out hard, and in an ugly, devastating fashion.

Coupled with Frisk?

Who knows what they'll do.]

[And then there was one.

When they disappear, or disappear, it won't take long for Asriel to pick up on the fact that the two most important people in his life have absconded without a word, as if they may have vanished into the ether. Eventually, he'll have to turn to the only option he has. The first thing he tried, when the shock of paws torquing into roots was too much to bear.

He will have to call for help.

And hope, for once, that somebody comes.]

[Someone out there has to be able to find 'em. If they're still here, they're still here. Their contacts haven't dissipated from the phones. He can still hold 'em in his memory. Everyone can. They're not gone. They're not gone.

They're just - what? Lost?

In any case, they're all gonna need help finding the pair of 'em before it's too late.

Maybe you hear about through word of mouth. Maybe the number of people roaming around in the dangerous parts of the city has nabbed your attention sufficiently. Either way, the word that gets passed down is that you're gonna be buddying up, 'cause there's not just one kid that needs finding - there's two, and neither of 'em are gonna be happy to be found.]

Edited 2017-03-05 03:45 (UTC)

[It's a day like any other. Sun is...well, there isn't a real sun. Nor birds unless it was something deadly in the caves. But it's still a nice day.

Twenty-four miles. Maybe more. By the looks of the copies Chara and Frisk had made, this wasn't going to be easy. ERASING oneself apparently didn't happen in a day but that was fine. It would happen eventually and they would go together.

That's then.

That...was then. Now...

Chara didn't keep the notes in the same place they squirreled away chocolates and knives. They reached behind there often and touching the paper seemed to burn every time. The Fallen Child did not know why it felt like that, felt like just looking at the strange symbols would chew them up and spit out whatever remained. So they kept the pages somewhere else.

And Chara does, inevitably, check one day.

There's a moment where they feel absolutely nothing when they stare at where the notes used to be. And then the shock kicked in because someone had been in their room, through their things and took the notes. They were gone.

Chara and Frisk's Hope...was gone.

The Fallen Child had enough sense to catch the door before it bangs against the wall when they yank it open. Race over to the front door and checks the lock, but it's not broken because there's only one person who knew what those notes were, knew that the children had the originals and could have figured out what they had done.

Who had seen through his double's eyes as Chara looked at him and said * 1 left.

.............who Chara once considered a friend.

.......why?]

Frisk.

[Asriel wasn't here. It was just them. Just Chara and Frisk. So speak up, Chara. When you're talking to people, speak up. Just not to loud.]

...Frisk? Frisk!

[It's not help they're calling for. It's sorrow.]

[Asriel, being Asriel, has no inkling whatsoever that anything sinister might be brewing on the horizon. As far as he's concerned, this is nothing but a good idea. Maybe, despite everything, they can be like a family again. Maybe if they try, it can be just like how it used to be. Maybe, even if that stupid king couldn't bring Asriel's compassion back, gathering more family around himself at once will remind him how to love.

It'll do good for Frisk and Chara too, he thinks. Maybe they can get over the fear of having to fight Asgore when they remember how gentle and patient he is. Maybe it will do both of them good if they can relate to a responsible adult who knows what it was like to kill, not because he really wanted to, but because he'd convinced himself he had to.

Maybe it'll be easier to forgive themselves if they can forgive a dad figure for the same things.]

Um... is it okay if we hold hands? It doesn't have to be for long! I'm just... hee hee, I'm kind of excited.

[The guy works fast, he'll give him that much. Unlike Shadow, Sans very much does have his own note with him, pinned between arm and hip as the lights in his eyesockets rove over the clear stillness of the lake.

The guy didn't bring the notes with him. Can't say he's surprised, after all the effort he had to go to to get him to hand 'em over the first time. All he can hope is that the kids never find 'em, or this'll start all the hell over again. He's burned that bridge, well and truly. He won't get another shot at this.

The onus is on Shadow, now, to ensure they don't see a repeat of the very same playin' out down the road.]

You're fast.

[An obvious statement, but it pays to start things off on a good foot. He owes him, and that'll probably turn 'round to bite him in the coccyx at some point or another, but - he'll take it as it comes.

It's worth it.

He inclines his skull faintly. God but he feels tired, even if he ain't the one doin' the heavy-lifting here. What right's he have to act like that, huh?]

I won't forget this.

[Sometimes you gotta ask yourself how it is you're still here, how you've managed to keep going when every part of you that counts has all but given up, entirely. It always boils down to pickin' something that spurs you, even slightly. A brother you love more than anything in the world. A friend who's got nobody else to watch shitty movies with. A lady with integrity, who can crack a good joke.

A few kids who, like it or not, slipped into the fragile spiderweb-thin cracks in his SOUL, wedged their way inside, a proverbial foot in the door, until they nestled themselves there, coiled spring-tight.
And there they stayed.
That's how you go to sleep.
Promises to keep.

Shadow offers a square of a chocolate bar, which gets the appraising lift of a supraorbital ridge, but no verbal judgment; he can guess, easy enough, where that might'a come from. He doubts that'll be anybody's priority, once they figure what he's done. He lifts his free hand wearily. No thanks.

He hums a sound that might approximate a sigh, were he a creature with lungs, and slides the thick bound stack of notes out from under his arm, holding it out in both hands as he casts his eyesockets across the abstruse symbols woven out and around its cover.

It's not what he figured goodbye would look like, but it'll have to do.

Promises to keep.]

You like secrets?

[Fair enough. Secrets are all, generally, more trouble than they're worth. You get stuck with secrets, and they start pilin' up, and after a while - hell, they start to feel a whole lot like promises.

Promises to keep. Secrets too.]

Then I guess this'll be ours.

[He opens his hands. The binder drops, as though about to slap against the ground, but some invisible force seems to catch it before it impacts. It suspends there, silently, and his eyesockets slip shut as he thinks whatever thoughts somebody like him needs to.

They're all iterations on the word goodbye.

Then, silently, the thing shoots off, skimming the surface of the water, until finally it drops with a soft splash.

Spiraling down, and down.

Indestructible, but not impossible to get rid of.

He just had to get creative.]

[He should'a done it from the start, it's true. If he had, they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. He wouldn't be watching the tapering threads of a rope bridge twist and blacken, until at last they separate and send the whole thing plunging into the inevitable inferno. There might'a been some part of this that could'a been salvageable.

But he took too long. He clung to what he shouldn't've. He hold onto it, like that'd be enough for goodbye, like that'd be enough for - for -

"Sorry?"

Why's he feel like he's heard that? Doc never would've - never could've lowered himself to that level. That ain't his style.

Why's he feel like he...?

...

Doesn't matter.

He should've forgotten, a long time ago.]

Should'a done that a long time ago.

[He lets the pinpricks of light in his eyesockets slide to Shadow, slow and lateral. There's something in his gaze that's less the scornful default he seems to have mastered, when it comes to conversing with Sans. Somethin' akin to, maybe -

It'd be too much to hope just now.]

And I should never've dragged you into this.

[...]

'M sorry.

[Did he?

Hard to trust that, even now. He could'a taken Chara's advice from the get-go, and then they wouldn't be in this mess. He's never been a sentimental kinda guy. He's never been one to cling to something when it's gone; he's never been in control of his own life, and he ain't about to start deluding himself into thinkin' he is now. But he held on regardless. Held onto the last fragment of the man who spoke in hands, until at last he - fell into his creation.

Weird.

Weird how everything started, and how it's gone. Shadow glances away, and he don't make any attempt to hold the hedgehog's look. This is - heavy. Between the both of 'em, and he's so far outta his depth (heh) that he's got no clue where to start.

Or where to go forward from here.

So. Turn things back to business. What needs saying, and doing.]

They'll know it was me. You shouldn't get any guff from any of 'em.

[Perhaps the answer to holding hands should be a little more simple. It is, first of all, most certainly a yes. The problem extends to the fact that they feel, since he asked, that they should take his hand first. And they want to- want to push past that barrier between them, prove that they can try to be a little less scared if he's willing to do the same.

But they also want to hold Chara's hand. There's not a doubt in Frisk's mind that he'd want to do the same, and so... how to take up the offer, without being selfish?

There's really not enough time in the world for the more ingenious ideas to come into fruition (one doesn't suddenly turn into a monster with two hands and a long tail because they think they'd like to be) so Frisk has to be smarter than that. Offer Asriel one of their hands with a small smile, glance over at Chara, so they know their Partner is aware they haven't forgotten them.

Then look to Asgore, smile just as prominent for the father as it was for the son, and offer their other hand. Only offers. They don't make that decision for everyone, as to whether this system works best. All they can do is try.

And that's what today is all about, right? Trying.

And food. Food is also a very important part of today's proceedings.]

[It's been a good day in a series of very unfortunate weeks. That seems to be the way of things, in Hadriel. Like a tempting glimpse of what could be; small windows of time that prove- this is what it could be like, if things were better. This is what it could be like, if you were a little better.

Twenty-four miles. Maybe more. But little days in which the opportunity for happiness came along made the numbers easier to bear, so long as they continued to tick down. One day, they'll take Chara's hand and go into the woods, and there'll be nothing left to do before they sleep. Before they sleep. Bef-

Whatever it was Frisk was doing, prior to the first time Chara yells their name, it doesn't really matter. Chara raises their voice- Chara raises their voice, and nothing, nothing in the world, could cross their mind. They're up from their bedroom floor in moments, out the door with knife in hand. Chara calls them again. They move faster.

Chara calls them again, and they're already in the room. It's silly, that their first instinct is to come forward with a weapon, eyes open wide as they look for whatever it is that's put that tone in their Partner's voice. It's silly, but it's not.
They made a promise, for Asriel's sake. Chara can't get hurt again. Can't.
Outside of those tiny windows, Hadriel also likes to make everything worse.]

[And they don't understand.

A humming buzz, in their ears and through their entire body. Adrenalin that's not actually needed that traps their voice in their chest as they look around at- nothing, apparently. It's nothing. There's nothing here.

Aside from Chara, staring at the lock on the front door like it could kill them. Always pale, but now, the waxen color of their skin clashes with the high flush in their cheeks. They look, for all the world, like an animated corpse.

So they hold their hand out; palm up, where Chara can see it. Not too close- don't really know if Chara can handle close. Not with the look on their face.

Gotta say more than just their name, Partner. Gotta tell them what hurt you.

...Please.]

Well, they're pretty determined.

[What's he say to that, exactly, that won't raise more questions? That all three are full of more Determination than should be physiologically possible? That all three have, at separate points, at least attempted to kill him - and in one case, succeeded?

Best to keep thing simple.]

More so than maybe your average human.

[They can normally turn this off. Stuff these unwanted feelings neatly into a small box where they can put it away so nobody could be bothered by it. By a child who--

No. Cut that thought off where it stands. Unproductive. Frisk is here. Heard their call. Who wouldn't? But that's not the point.

How can they tell Frisk that it's all gone? That the hope that they both possessed....they don't know, went up in flames? That sounds about right. For however cold they might feel, there was a fire burning in Chara's mind.

They don't turn to face Frisk and instead just let the words flow.]

They're gone. The pages....we can't. We can't! He....it's all gone!

[It should be obvious who 'he' is. As far as they're aware, only one person besides Chara and Frisk knew what those pages were and only one person could get in and out of their apartment without kicking the door in.

* It's you.]

[Holding hands should be a simple thing but it wasn't with them. Figuring out a system aside, Chara was still averse to touch. All of the people here would not press the issue, yet it was always going to be there.

So, here was an option. Again, Frisk gives Chara an out. There's no obligation to hold anyone's hand. Just a choice and...hum.

They won't raise any fuss if Asgore takes Frisk's hand. If he does then Chara will take a third option. Raise their hands and, slowly so Frisk and Asriel can see what they're doing, place a hand on each of their shoulders. They are here, just right behind you.]

As am I Asriel. It's a nice day out.

[They can have one, before they're gone. Right Frisk?]

[Maybe not, no. But he don't deserve to take the fall for this, when he weren't the one who formulated the deception in the first place. He was the intermediary, and for good reason.

If whatever's left of the doc is gonna languish in his lodgings - well, fine. They can deal with that as it comes.]

So why didn't you?

[They're gone.

Again, Frisk doesn't have the voice to respond. The thickness of their throat spreads into their chest as they feel a shock-wave hit their shoulders, race down their spine. They're gone. They're gone.

It's not that they don't believe Chara (of course they do. Two children stand on the edge of the cauldron to hell, neither is hesitating. They'll go together; their LOVE will end in hell) but they still have to- they have to go see, for themself. They have to confirm it with their own eyes, dropping their hand as they move away abruptly, into Chara's room and over to the nook that the two of them had agreed upon, together. Only they knew- they were the only ones who knew.

There's nothing there.]

[...
Okay.

Okay.]

[They don't leave Chara alone for long. And upon their return, their hands are balled into fists. Expression a carefully sculpted blankness that belies the frostiness of their tone; collapsed and shut off. Okay.

They understand.]

We're leaving.

[Heh.

Fair enough.

'Bout all Sans deserves, after the hoops and cartwheels he's put Shadow through to keep his secrets, keep his lies and untruths sequestered away where nobody'll touch 'em.

Say, Shadow says, outta the blue, can skeletons get drunk?

He's...

Would it be wrong to say he's tempted?]

With a little work, yeah. Why d'you ask?

[Well, it's one of his gifts. Evasion. Dodging. Obfuscating, dancing - he's kinda had to learn, at an early age. Be unpredictable. Paint on a mask so no one can see where you're looking, or what you're thinking.

He seems to need it, Shadow says. Looks like something's leaking on through the cracks. Or maybe he's just gotten good at reading him. Sooner or later, it seems that people tend to do exactly that. They figure him out, or they get the time to.

That's his whole problem, really. How the hell's a guy like him meant to last in the long-term, when he was only barely scraping by in the short?

Wade's rubbing off on him. It's the only explanation.

(No it's not.)

He glances back out across the water, its surface glassy and undisturbed; maybe somewhere, the lower down you get, some nebulously-defined bottom feeder or another is enjoying an insubstantial, overly fibrous lunch that doesn't really exist.

He looks back to the hedgehog, and his shoulders drop, and he grins.]

Yeah, actually.

[So they say.]

[The day that Chara had made the choice to walk up that mountain was a quiet one. The day before that day was not.

You try to get your affairs set in order but realize you have none. You try to sort through things you may want to bring and find nothing. There is very little to your life that wasn't someone else's ideals and that day made it abundantly clear. Jitters set in and there's very little else you can do but cry. A line of thought the other "Chara" had awhile back:

You are only worth your SOUL, the Underground said to Frisk.

You are only worth something if you are perfect, the Surface said to Chara.

And in the end, they were not.

But if they are to take this as far as they can....

Well. "It ends with me."

Chara shuts the door and turns around to face their Partner. The Fallen Child is smiling, they think. That creepy smile.]

We are.

[Anywhere but here.]

do every stupid thing that makes you feel alive [mostly closed]

ASGORE, ASRIEL, CHARA, and FRISK; don't hurt anybody on your way up to the light

SANS and SHADOW; seek out the hidden places where the fire burns hot and bright

CHARA and FRISK; climb limits past the limits

ASRIEL and ASGORE; find where the heat's unbearable and stay there if you have to

ASSORTED SEARCH PARTIES; and stay alive, just stay alive

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1/3 big mood

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