thisavrou_log | [open] Perfect weather for a game of catch.

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[open] Perfect weather for a game of catch.

Who: Frisk, Asriel, Chara, and YOU
When: Sssssssometime this month, wibbly wobbly have fun with it
Where: A park in Kauto R1
What: Kids having a picnic, what could be better?
Warnings: Chara, will be updated as needed

It's been a long trip.

Definitions of 'long' are a little variable, but all three children have been anxious to see an end to their travels. It didn't start when they crossed through the Ingress, but long before that.

Someone climbed a mountain for an unhappy reason.

Someone carried a body to a field of golden flowers.

Someone took a long journey, just wanting to live their life.

But now they've come, not to The End, but an end. It's not perfect, not quite what any of them were expecting. But it's better, it's theirs, and...they can stay. What it means to each child, what they think of it and what they have to say, it all varies. But no one and nothing can or will take this from them.

The three of them are gathered together in a park. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming...a blanket is laid out on the grass, and in a cooler drinks and snacks are kept on hand. A few toys lay nearby, but it seems that for now the trio is content enough to relax and talk amongst themselves. Smiles adorn their faces (though one face in particular wears theirs a little sharply), and the scene is...nice. This is nice.

Even if they may not agree, they have long since earned this respite.

(( ooc: Feel free to come and pester the kiddos! Everyone will be responding separately, though there may be threadjacking or some doubling up. Have fun! ))

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He assumes they are all determined to succeed. They certainly are determined, in every respect. It comes so very easily to them; the most determined creature in the entire universe.

Regrettably.

"Security, perhaps," they comment, idly. Pluck a strand of grass between their fingers and twirl it, smiling as though they are not a consistent, constant destructive force, unable to so much as sit still without seeking out an object to rake their loathsome hands over and destroy, destroy destroy. "Would that not be neckcellent?"

"That's... really impressive. How did you do that?"

No, seriously, he's surprised in a good way, here.

Chara would have. It's confirmation, more than actually new information, but still valuable. Especially as much as they'd tried to obscure their own goals. Frisk's resignation is as significant in its own way, and Rinzler privately saves both datapoints to file.

Their redirect is obvious, though, and Rinzler relents without much argument. The black helmet shakes—no one else—a quick twitch across the projected keyboard adding a new line above.

Region One.

Keeper might hold no particular judgement value for Chara. For Rinzler? It's a lot less neutral of a word. The enforcer stills, sound catching harshly as his helmet jerks pointedly to the side.

Not a user.

Or an admin. (Or Clu.) But a user is what's in front of him, a user is what's applying the false term. Rinzler is a weapon. Rinzler is a tool. Not anything that could lay claim or restriction.

Active threats?

"Themselves, largely." Their gaze roves over the pair of children with the enthusiasm of a dulled knife. Cannot possibly allow a breath of it to leak through, and so they do not. They speak slowly, measured, as though this is of as patently little importance as the weather.

For what it's worth, it is - a beautiful day outside. Whatever this world has that passes for birds are probably singing. The alien equivalent of flowers are likely blooming.

A truly beautiful day outside.

"You have only but to offer them a sword, and they will fall upon it." Their eyes slide to Rinzler, back again, and they add, "metaphorically, of course. Though I imagine they would take it to literal levels if they could."

Mettaton can't help but to at least scratch at the back of his neck distractedly. It's not the same motion. It's not the same, so Chara shouldn't call him out on it, but the puns are getting annoying. He knows what they're doing.

But he's going to ignore them, yep! He can do it!

"At the moment, I haven't yet acquired a permanent residence. Maybe I will find one near you all though," he comments lightheartedly. "And Asriel...why not use your skills for transporting in order to help citizens move? Or delivering items--there's plenty of potential!!"

So many opportunities to make sweet cash~

"I suppose security is a good idea too, especially for you Chara," he adds as an afterthought. "So that just leaves Frisk then~"

He looks at the small human expectantly. Tell him your secrets, Frisk!

A delivery boy... that's a good idea a actually.

"I guess I could do deliveries! I still have my hover board. I didn't get the chance to use it much..."

Maybe he could start some kind of delivery service. He's not sure how you start a business like that, but you probably just need to put up some posters. He glances over at Frisk.

Themselves. It's not an assessment Rinzler disagrees with. It's not one he can, especially of late. His helmet turns to follow Chara's gaze, a precise twitch that stalls not on the faces of the pair... but on the glowing rings suspended on their backs.

...

If they could. Noise skips quietly, and he types without looking away.

Status?

"I am not your arbiter; I cannot do everything for you." An empty stare communicates irritation just as much, if not more than, a slight tonal twist, and requires significantly less effort.

It also allows a steady eye on their partner in conversation, as he focuses on the discs the pair of children wear. One of which Chara has seen activated in combat, once, though not in any fatal sense.

"Ask them yourself, given that you're so terribly interested."

Frisk turns back to Reinhardt for just a moment, shaking their head. "N-no, you don't have to! I--we can just--"

But in that one moment, Chara has vanished--no, no, not quite. Frisk can see them still, running across the field. They have no green magic to halt a fleeing SOUL, nor the will to initiate a FIGHT to stall for even a tiny amount of time. Encounter over, back to the world again.

Frisk raises one hand, whimpering softly, but after a moment lets it fall to their side. Chasing after them...wouldn't be fair. Frisk knows how much Chara detests being around people, and forcing them to stay around after feeling humiliated would just be cruel. They...Frisk can apologize later. They'll probably just head home...they hope.

A moment longer, and Frisk turns around again and walks back to Reinhardt, head bowed. "...'m sorry."

Frisk flushes pink and looks away with a shy smile, fidgeting with their sleeve. "I jus'...I jus' talked with people. Humans get confused 'bout monsters a lot, an' me tellin' them works better than monsters doin' it."

He feels his shoulders sag for a moment, watching the exchange. It's a situation wildly out of his control. Something he can't assist them with. Something he can't guard Frisk from. And perhaps that hurts the worst.

When Frisk turns back to him, he says nothing. There's no need to apologize, but telling them that might not sink in. So instead, the big man kneels.

Offers up open arms.

Come here, Frisk. It's okay.

"Hey, not everyone can take a step back and realize that."

He's determined, apparently, to praise this child. "That's a good job."

Region One? That place probably feels more comfortable, from what they remember of the Grid. Frisk smiles and nods, bouncing on their heels and smiling brighter. "I'll come t' visit sometime! U-um, if it's okay, I mean. You can come t' our house, too!"

The black helmet twitches back to Chara, a static modulation of annoyance interrupting the enforcer's sound.

Query: your assessment.

Not the first time he's queried. Or the first time they've avoided giving a response. Rinzler tilts his mask toward the pair in indication, fingers flickering across the holographic keys.

They lie.

There's a momentary pause... but Rinzler nods. And types out the address! Plus one quick caveat.

Contact prior to attempt. Residence frequently unoccupied.

Where frequently means usually—say, right now, for example. Rinzler tends to wander. And if Rinzler also happens to live down the hall from a yellow-glowing program(mer) he'd prefer to limit Frisk's encounters with... he doubts spelling that part out would go so well.

Sorry, are they being too very contrarian for you, Rinzler? Too obstructive? Perhaps you've a fair fraction of insight into how it must have been, dealing with one such as them on a regular basis.

They meet the very much factual statement with a dazzling smile.

"Fair enough."

Their eyes flick back to the pair of children who have become, without ceremony, their impromptu charges; those they must see after and care for, as neither will particularly care for themselves. Some self-sacrificial heroic intention or another. Both are rife with it.

"They are better than they have been, no doubt. Settling into a single, static planet without fear of change has helped their mental states significantly." They open a hand, palm to the sky, in an equivocal supination. "And yet I doubt they expect this to last, in any case."

Forever waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It is a familiar concern.

Oh, obstruction is something Rinzler's perfectly familiar with. Just not something he has much patience with, especially when it comes to words. They aren't his function, aren't anything he was designed to use, and if he could strip what data he needed in this world from something so simple as a disk...

...well, he probably would have learned much less. Especially from those two.

It's almost funny.

Words are all Chara can offer, and Rinzler listens, sound quieting to the usual low rattle. It's nothing he couldn't have projected, but the confirmation is valuable, particularly from this source. Rinzler too, doubts the peace will last. It's a lie like all the others, a pretense and taunt just waiting to be proven. He hates it. He'd shatter it himself if he could. But he'll be ready when it fails.

Doubts or no, he suspects the betas won't.

The black mask dips. There's a momentary lag, and one more string fills the display.

Data appreciated.

They cannot particularly blame either child, for expecting the peace to fray and snap like a piece of wire. Nothing good ever lasts, a lesson all of them have well learned, they imagine, in times gone past.

One final string of data, and it elicits little more than a faint, knowing twitch to one corner of their mouth, as false as any of their smiles.

"A thank you? For services rendered?" Goodness, Rinzler. You flatter them.

Helmet or no, the glower that responds isn't hard to pick up. Especially when the enforcer's sound is scraping toward a growl. Rinzler steps back, bristling slightly as his frame coils and leaps, an easy midair flip that puts him up atop the wall again. His mask quirks pointedly.

Anything else, user?

Of course not. Nothing useful remains, and thus - he is dismissed, implicitly. Hopefully he will not mind if they watch him depart, needlessly acrobatic as the maneuver is. They are seldom one to willingly turn their back.

"Enjoy your day, Mr. Rinzler." It is very much a beautiful day outside, after all. One would be remiss to waste all of it on pointless endeavors, would they not?

Endeavors like enjoyment? Rinzler stares down at the user, but as much as he might suspect a taunt, there's no data either way. Lacking an answer, he gives none, but the perch will empty itself when Chara does look away.

For now, at least. He'll be around.

When attention turns onto them Frisk bites their lip and glances away, fiddling with the end of their sleeve shyly.

"I'm, I-I've been lookin'...I dunno what I'd really be good at. I was supposed t' be helpin' people feel better on th' ship, but..."

They're starting to doubt their skill in that regard.

But that not really the sort of face any of them want to see out of Frisk, is it? So they straighten up and smile, as sunny as can be. "Um, I'll find somethin' though! I can always clean stuff, at least, 'n people always need help with that!"

They don't deserve this sympathy. Yet over and over Frisk finds open arms waiting for them from the people they've come to know...what did they ever do to earn this? How many times have they fooled everyone into thinking they're something worth keeping around?

And disgusting thing they are, they still accept it. Sniffling and scrubbing at their eyes, Frisk reaches up to put their arms around Reinhardt again and hold on tight. Why can't they ever do anything right?

"Th...thanks." Frisk ducks their head, tugging harder on their sleeve, but they can't hide the pleased smile on their face. "I...I try t' be good."

"But, um!" Abruptly they look back up again, earnest as they can be. "That's why--if you need help, I can come over an' try!"

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