the littlest edgelord (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
inconsequence) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2017-11-25 08:52 pm
inconsequence) wrote in thisavrou_log2017-11-25 08:52 pm
points to spinal chord on brain diagram [open]
Who: Chara and YOU
When: 11/23 - 11/24
Where: Literally all around Avagi this child is wandering in a disoriented post-fight daze
What: Chara fought in a trial. Chara got a prize. No one is happy with this.
Warnings: Emotional distress probable, in addition to the usual Chara warnings.
The temples began to sing.
They emerged bloodied and ragged along the edges, one hand clasped around the rust-brown stains fringing every tear in their clothing. One side of their hair has become uneven where a hank of it was roughly and sloppily cut away mid-combat. They limp. Their eyes are glazed with hunger, with emptiness, with exhaustion. Their motions are stiff and automatic. Whenever someone draws near to them, they flinch and hold ready, a blade of red steel gleaming in their hand. A smile tears over their features in a blaze of forced and painted-on glee.
They emerged from the Trial of Life victorious, in a manner of speaking - in a very loose manner of speaking. They emerged from the Trial of Life, having not died or fled, and thus are eligible for something of a prize.
That is when the temples began to sing.
They ignite with a soft blue glow, ethereal, illuminating their surroundings in a cool sweep of runic light. The light takes root inside them, nestling like a seed in the center of their chest; not patience-blue, not integrity-blue, and certainly not determination-red, but something else entirely. It aches in solemn acknowledgment of itself. The child's eyes squeeze shut. The blood has begun to hammer in their ears anew, as if rejuvenated enough to feel like it ought to redouble its efforts to spill out from their torn veins.
The hum pressing across their ears has begun to vibrate in their bones.
As they cross through the portal's bridge of light back to Avagi, the whispers and fragments of other people's thoughts begin to trail after them, silver-tinted specters of other people's thoughts.
When: 11/23 - 11/24
Where: Literally all around Avagi this child is wandering in a disoriented post-fight daze
What: Chara fought in a trial. Chara got a prize. No one is happy with this.
Warnings: Emotional distress probable, in addition to the usual Chara warnings.
The temples began to sing.
They emerged bloodied and ragged along the edges, one hand clasped around the rust-brown stains fringing every tear in their clothing. One side of their hair has become uneven where a hank of it was roughly and sloppily cut away mid-combat. They limp. Their eyes are glazed with hunger, with emptiness, with exhaustion. Their motions are stiff and automatic. Whenever someone draws near to them, they flinch and hold ready, a blade of red steel gleaming in their hand. A smile tears over their features in a blaze of forced and painted-on glee.
They emerged from the Trial of Life victorious, in a manner of speaking - in a very loose manner of speaking. They emerged from the Trial of Life, having not died or fled, and thus are eligible for something of a prize.
That is when the temples began to sing.
They ignite with a soft blue glow, ethereal, illuminating their surroundings in a cool sweep of runic light. The light takes root inside them, nestling like a seed in the center of their chest; not patience-blue, not integrity-blue, and certainly not determination-red, but something else entirely. It aches in solemn acknowledgment of itself. The child's eyes squeeze shut. The blood has begun to hammer in their ears anew, as if rejuvenated enough to feel like it ought to redouble its efforts to spill out from their torn veins.
The hum pressing across their ears has begun to vibrate in their bones.
As they cross through the portal's bridge of light back to Avagi, the whispers and fragments of other people's thoughts begin to trail after them, silver-tinted specters of other people's thoughts.
[Chara scored the empathy reward for their participation in the Trial of Life, meaning that, to quote the info post: others stay inside their body, but gain a sense of those around them. This manifests not as telepathic knowledge of their thoughts, but an empathic resonance—ghost-vision showing their emotions in stark clarity.]
[This more or less gives them the ability to know and feel anything your character is experiencing emotionally so that's you know fantastic. Feel free to tag in with prose or brackets; I'll match you! Let me know here or over atarrpee if you want a closed starter or something more specific!]
no subject
[And there it is. There's the question he has to ask. All this soul-bearing has to be useful, right? Has to make things a little better for someone else. For Chara. After all, why else would you do it?]
[Not to help yourself.]
[He doesn't know how to do that. Maybe he'd started, once, but when Angela left, when she disappeared, so did that knowledge. So did that outlet. There's no other reason now, but to help someone else.]
no subject
[They need...time. Time to be alone in the center of their own thoughts without someone else’s fears or regrets or angers trespassing upon their own. Nothing about this is easily clarified, and it does not clarify itself either. Mostly it burns cold, like a dying star.]
[They cannot say.]
Has it helped you?
no subject
[It is. It truly is. It's all right and it's understandable and accepted. Even if they aren't helped by what he's said, even if they come out of their time unchanged, it's all right.]
[All you can do is try. And keep trying.]
Helping other people usually takes my mind off things, at least. [He shifts a shoulder in a shrug.] In a way, it does.
no subject
[He's very determined, isn't he? He's determined to help, no matter the personal cost. He's always - tried. He's terrible with names, and he's terrible with jokes, and he cannot help but gather children to him like moth to a flame, and he pours himself out to cover for the fact that he does not know how else to help.]
[None of it is all right. None of it is all right, even if the tranquility running beneath his thoughts says that it is.]
...I interrupted you. You were going somewhere.
no subject
[That goal sort of faded out while they'd been speaking. Along with the headache, the feeling of general disorientation. He shakes his head, pressing his palm to it for a moment.]
... bed. If you can believe that.
[He'd been asleep for days, according to the others. But it doesn't feel like it.]
But it's all right. I'll get there.
Are you going to be okay? For now?
no subject
[It's a little shrill. A little wobbling. A little poorly contained. Just like them, at the moment - far from perfect, far from veiled. They cannot quite rake all the pieces of themself into something presentable, just now.]
I have no idea.
no subject
[He closes his eyes.]
[His chest hurts, something inside aching for them. For their sake. Remembering how much he'd wanted, in places, to be able to just shatter. To fall apart, and not have that space, not have that chance. And how quickly it happened, once someone opened up that door.]
[He doesn't draw closer to them -- out of respect for their space. But he does shift. Sitting against the wall, leaning against it.]
It's okay. [It will be okay. I'll stay here, just for a while if they need a presence.] It's okay, Chara. You... don't have to know.
[He won't help if he's a mess. If he's trying not to fly apart, too.]
[Focus.]
[Calm.]
[Going back to that steady place. Eyes still closed, focusing on that memory. For ... for both their sake. And his.]
no subject
[Do none of them ask why it is they always laugh? It's certainly some measure of their depravity, to be sure - some instinct that displays their cruel nature well and truly, for all to see. What sort of child laughs at another's pain? What sort of child laughs at such inappropriate times? Do they take pleasure in this, in knowing they are all doomed?]
[They must! Is there any other explanation?]
You're trying so very hard to keep this all under wraps. You understand that I realize this, yes?
no subject
[His head tilts back against the wall, eyes shut.]
I know. [Quietly. Tiredly.] But it can't hurt to try and calm down, anyway.
[Breathing slowly to calm a racing pulse, eyes shut against a headache. Old hat, by now.]
no subject
[Look at them, standing rigid, firm, uncompromising, unblinking. The tension clenching their shoulders, curling their hands around the edges of their sweater and tearing at the threads and fray thing green fabric - that's just secondary.]
You aren't even doing it for my benefit; you can't be. [There would be no point if he already knows they can hear it.] Why do you continue to bother?
no subject
[And he's never fine when he writes it off like that. But now, he's just going to lean against the wall. Sitting cross-legged as if it were the most natural position in the world. Every ounce of him doing his best to feel calm. To feel at ease. If they can feel what he feels, it's bound to help somehow, isn't it?]
Because maybe it'll help one of us. Eventually. [He quiets for a few breaths.] I'm not going to stop you from walking away, Chara.
If you want to, I won't stop you.
[They know that. Don't they?]
no subject
[Stay. Or leave.]
[Their smile is too skewed to belong to them.]
I'm interfering with what I'm assuming is the weekly allotment of four hours you allow yourself.
no subject
[He will absolutely not put his own mishap on anyone else's shoulders. Much less Chara's. They'd just happened to be here. He'd wandered down this hall. Noting purposeful on anyone's part.]
[A shrug.]
Chara -- I mean it. [And he does. As much as he means space is huge, or any other undeniable fact.] You don't have to stay, and you don't have to go.
It's up to you.
[Do you want me to stop? Do you want to be left alone?]
no subject
[And they know that he means it.]
[That's the worst part of it. Adults aren't supposed to offer you choices. They aren't supposed to make you feel - this. Like there are no strings, no emotional ties, no consequences. They aren't supposed to reward you for being like this.]
They've expected him to wake up and see them for what they really are for months now. For months.]
[Is that day simply never coming?]
I cannot understand these feelings anymore.
But you really ought to be getting on.
no subject
[Not if he knows himself like he does. It takes a lot for him to change his mind -- about people. About individuals. Keith comes to mind again -- the way he'd looked when he'd been assured everything was all right. That nothing had changed between them.]
[Chara's situation is probably wildly different.]
[But he's still here for them.]
Probably. If I could stand up.
no subject
[That's...easier. It's easier to focus on that instead of what he just said because what he just said, and the fact that they can't deny it, either.]
[Nothing, it seems, will convince him.]
...stand. [The question of whether it's even possible for him to change his mind, they suspect, already has an answer.]
no subject
My legs are paralyzed. And a gravity well has opened under me. I'm stuck.
[This is, probably, the ultimate Dad Humor. He says it in the most deadpan voice he can muster up. Expression just as serious.]
[Like it's the truth, even if inside, he's laughing lightly. He can totally move. As much as it seems like an impossible task physically.]
no subject
[...no. No, he does not. It's a joke. The bubble of laughter running beneath the words gives him away. How he can manage to make such a - such a lighthearted and earnest effort after everything is...]
[It takes them a significantly longer time to answer than it should.]
In that case, I suppose there is no plausible way you could prevent me from going through any personal belongings you may be keeping in your room.
no subject
[Their suggestion, however, makes that subconscious laugh just plain pop out. It's low and ragged in his throat. But genuine all the same.]
You could. If... you like looking at clothes.
[The insinuation he actually has personal effects... that's somehow hilarious. Aside from the dreaded "SPACE HO" crop-top he's still holding onto.]
no subject
[There is no itching powder on Avagi, nor are they certain that it would be worth wasting it all here. But it's the principle of the thing. The thought that counts. Etc.]
Or bedsheets.
no subject
[His expression could not have been drier if it was made in the Sahara Desert.]
Why?
no subject
[Do you believe they're evil now, sir? Do you.]
Maybe I just like to generate the continued suffering of others, simply because I enjoy watching what chaos I may bring. [There; that's a reasonable return to their typical demeanor.]
no subject
[No. No he doesn't. Not even a little bit. There's exasperation, sure. But no more than he'd feel for any of the others on his team, in the event they did something ridiculous.]
[Because that's what a child would say.]
Maybe I'm immune to itching powder.
no subject
[There are multiple perspectives that must really be taken into account here. Childishness and cruelty are not mutually exclusive, after all, and never particularly have been. They'd know.]
That is not what I'd call the reaction of a man who is.
no subject
Nah, it's not.
[He's heard worse. He's heard hundreds of voices all calling for something worse than just powder pranks. Maybe he's seeing this in a different light than they are. But he still can't judge.]
[He still won't judge.]
It's the reaction of a man judging whether or not sleeping against a wall is a good use of his time.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)