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!]
2/2
It bursts like a floodgate, gaping wide.
"Children aren't for anything, Frisk! They're just KIDS!"
no subject
"Stop it! STOP IT! I can't, I can't be, I can't, I can't!"
If they're just a child, if they're just normal--
It has to be for a reason, there has to be a sense behind everything! They fell because they had a purpose to fulfill, they kept going because they were Determined. They made everyone happy because they were meant to, they hurt because they could take it. If Frisk couldn't stand it, that was their own failing, or else--
How are they even meant to just be?
no subject
A false question. A trick question. They already know the answer. They have never been taught to be anything else.
"That is their failure. That is the failure of every person who has told you otherwise. I don't care how deeply you loved them, or claimed to." They don't care. They don't care that Mr. Dad Guy could fill their heart with a raindrop-patter of delight when he beamed at them, because he called them the future of humans and monsters and placed the weight of ambassadorial duties upon the shoulders of a child he barely knew, beginning the cycle anew. They can't care, because he learned nothing, took nothing from the path he chose but the inevitability of his own mistakes in repeat.
"They taught you wrong."
no subject
It's terrifying--to even think about this, to even try to face the ideas that lay bare in front of them. To even try and confront it, to reconcile their love and their pain, it's insurmountable and leaves an ache deep in their chest, as if their heart were squeezed tighter in a vice with every breath.
Even if they ask, even if Chara demands and rails and shouts to the heavens for the injustice of it, Frisk...
"I can't...I...I can't..."
They can't give this up. Not after so long, not after all the pain they've endured. There's no other path left.
no subject
They won't.
One mind screaming its way out of the boundaries someone else imposed is hard enough; two is unendurable. So they cease to allow for it, exploding out from beneath the bed in a flurry of taut motion, of scrabbling limbs, of heavy breath and sweat-stuck hair and squeezed-shut eyes.
"Then come back when you can."
no subject
does nothing.
Flinching inward, they sob but do not protest--why should they, when it's them causing so much grief for the other? Why are they like this, why can't they just do as they should, why can't they just--
Listen?