Frisk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gainedlove) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-10-04 10:53 am
gainedlove) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-10-04 10:53 am
Entry tags:
Angel's first bender
Who: Frisk and Kaworu
When: September 22nd
Where: On the ship, eventually medbay
What: Kaworu doesn't know how to deal with withdrawl, literal child forced to babysit cosmic toddler
Warnings: possible self-harm?
Once the ship had taken off again and the strange planet was left behind, life had mostly resumed it's normal routine--at least for Frisk. Their family was still reeling, and it was strange that many of their clothes didn't fit quite right anymore, but it was ripples in a pond compared to what had happened before. Nothing to leave them bailing out water, just a rocky moment that, outside of several concerned looks sent their way, went over without incident.
Life continues on. And on, and on, and on--
And now Frisk is going about making their rounds of the ship, a meeker but still happy and friendly mood about them as they check to be sure that everyone is feeling well. Of course, not many are, and Frisk is already trying to think of little ways they might be able to help. Not a party, definitely, but maybe if they can find a way to make something nice for everyone...
They spot Kaworu soon after they turn the corner down the hall towards the oft-unused music room, blinking when they see him disappear inside with such a sour look on his face. SOmething must be really wrong for him to be in such a foul mood!
And so, of course, with no mind for the stipulations Toriel still has over the pair of them interacting, Frisk trots over and peeks inside with a worried expression.
"Kaworu? What's wrong?"
When: September 22nd
Where: On the ship, eventually medbay
What: Kaworu doesn't know how to deal with withdrawl, literal child forced to babysit cosmic toddler
Warnings: possible self-harm?
Once the ship had taken off again and the strange planet was left behind, life had mostly resumed it's normal routine--at least for Frisk. Their family was still reeling, and it was strange that many of their clothes didn't fit quite right anymore, but it was ripples in a pond compared to what had happened before. Nothing to leave them bailing out water, just a rocky moment that, outside of several concerned looks sent their way, went over without incident.
Life continues on. And on, and on, and on--
And now Frisk is going about making their rounds of the ship, a meeker but still happy and friendly mood about them as they check to be sure that everyone is feeling well. Of course, not many are, and Frisk is already trying to think of little ways they might be able to help. Not a party, definitely, but maybe if they can find a way to make something nice for everyone...
They spot Kaworu soon after they turn the corner down the hall towards the oft-unused music room, blinking when they see him disappear inside with such a sour look on his face. SOmething must be really wrong for him to be in such a foul mood!
And so, of course, with no mind for the stipulations Toriel still has over the pair of them interacting, Frisk trots over and peeks inside with a worried expression.
"Kaworu? What's wrong?"
no subject
Trying to communicate like this is a struggle, and Frisk isn't getting it.
That is where things went bad. Angelic instincts are a little more streamlined than human ones. If there's an obstacle or a threat, destroy it or remove it. There is no 'problem solving' inclination: eliminating the problem is the same as solving it.
The corner of Kaworu's mouth quirks up, reflexively, and he lunges--not at the wall but at Frisk. There's no malice in his features, no rage as his hands aim for Frisk's fragile human neck. Just too-bright red eyes, glittering as if with sudden clarity, and an open mouth and inhuman smile.
no subject
They stumble backwards and leap to the side, getting distance between themself and Kaworu. Enough time to react, to try and predict--they've never seen his bullets, they need to be ready. They pull out the Dagger and reach for--
Wait. There's no menu, and their SOUL isn't out.
The shuttered, blank expression on their face turns vaguely confused, but their sharp gaze doesn't leave the angel. What kind of FIGHT is this?