heart_breaking (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thisavrou_log2016-02-15 06:37 pm
heart_breaking) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-02-15 06:37 pm
[Open]
Who: Chara and YOU!
When: After they resurge on the 8th, and ending when the voting on their murder sentence is determined.
Where: Galley, Bow, Housing Decks, Hold, and potentially anywhere else.
What: Catchall for Chara post resurge. Chara kills Sans. Chara stays in the hold after the murder.
Warnings: Dark themes and warnings for Chara, plus strong likelihood of Undertale spoilers.
Galley
The second work week in the kitchens is nearly over by the time Chara finally shows up. They offer no explanations for their absence on their own, and it's clear that they're only there to avoid having to be anywhere else. Still, their work is good; sometimes they'll appear at someone's elbow to reach past them for a utensil they've been sent after. Other times they'll lay out ingredients, and when they make the occasional mistake they correct it without complaint.
Everyone else has already had a few shifts to learn the ropes, and Chara sticks out like a sore thumb. It doesn't help that they're smaller than everyone, and it's a fact made especially obvious when they're sent dish-washing. They have to lift their elbows to reach into the sink, and their apron has been folded over at the waist so as to not reach their ankles.
They could probably use some help. That dirty cooking pot looks heavy.
The Bow
It's like the observation deck, but it's also not. They don't feel anything while standing by the same stars that watched them die, and for all that their eyes move over them, they're not even paying attention.
The Gunnery is empty. The door is closed, and Chara is standing mere feet away from it, arms crossed and chewing on the inside of their cheek. They haven't been here since the ship was struggling to escape with its precious load of rescued lives, and the lights are out at this time, with a stillness that seems oddly bereft. Chara's not making any attempts to get inside; it's as though the room itself has echoes of an intent that they're absorbing passively, like water creeping up strips of paper.
They seem lost in thought.
Nomo and Mero Deck
Both of the decks they're not on have communal bathing areas. That's about as much as they can tell from the looks of the doors, and they're reluctant to talk to anyone at all, let alone recruit someone to help them explore. This is perhaps the second time they've appeared on these levels. Like the first time, they walk through without going towards any specific room, and when they're done they pause at the end to look back.
They're still standing still when someone else appears. As though not wanting to seem lost, Chara stirs immediately and begins to leave.
Moro Deck
Generous lighting, soft beds, and desk sets that all match. The hallway wasn't dim outside, but Chara stands in the doorway and blinks anyway, adjusting. At some level they'd pictured their old room. They knew it would be different, but somehow the contrast between a shared room for children underground and this housing deck really drives it home.
Chara steps inside. They don't have anything to put down, and they own nothing that isn't 'borrowed', or ruined by their own grisly demise. That's fine. They avoid having to think about it by exploring the room, reaching for light switches and opening drawers.
Wildcard and catch-all! Suggest a place, or just assume they're taking a meal in the emptiest corner of the Mess Hall they could find and clearly need someone to eat with them.
When: After they resurge on the 8th, and ending when the voting on their murder sentence is determined.
Where: Galley, Bow, Housing Decks, Hold, and potentially anywhere else.
What: Catchall for Chara post resurge. Chara kills Sans. Chara stays in the hold after the murder.
Warnings: Dark themes and warnings for Chara, plus strong likelihood of Undertale spoilers.
Galley
The second work week in the kitchens is nearly over by the time Chara finally shows up. They offer no explanations for their absence on their own, and it's clear that they're only there to avoid having to be anywhere else. Still, their work is good; sometimes they'll appear at someone's elbow to reach past them for a utensil they've been sent after. Other times they'll lay out ingredients, and when they make the occasional mistake they correct it without complaint.
Everyone else has already had a few shifts to learn the ropes, and Chara sticks out like a sore thumb. It doesn't help that they're smaller than everyone, and it's a fact made especially obvious when they're sent dish-washing. They have to lift their elbows to reach into the sink, and their apron has been folded over at the waist so as to not reach their ankles.
They could probably use some help. That dirty cooking pot looks heavy.
The Bow
It's like the observation deck, but it's also not. They don't feel anything while standing by the same stars that watched them die, and for all that their eyes move over them, they're not even paying attention.
The Gunnery is empty. The door is closed, and Chara is standing mere feet away from it, arms crossed and chewing on the inside of their cheek. They haven't been here since the ship was struggling to escape with its precious load of rescued lives, and the lights are out at this time, with a stillness that seems oddly bereft. Chara's not making any attempts to get inside; it's as though the room itself has echoes of an intent that they're absorbing passively, like water creeping up strips of paper.
They seem lost in thought.
Nomo and Mero Deck
Both of the decks they're not on have communal bathing areas. That's about as much as they can tell from the looks of the doors, and they're reluctant to talk to anyone at all, let alone recruit someone to help them explore. This is perhaps the second time they've appeared on these levels. Like the first time, they walk through without going towards any specific room, and when they're done they pause at the end to look back.
They're still standing still when someone else appears. As though not wanting to seem lost, Chara stirs immediately and begins to leave.
Moro Deck
Generous lighting, soft beds, and desk sets that all match. The hallway wasn't dim outside, but Chara stands in the doorway and blinks anyway, adjusting. At some level they'd pictured their old room. They knew it would be different, but somehow the contrast between a shared room for children underground and this housing deck really drives it home.
Chara steps inside. They don't have anything to put down, and they own nothing that isn't 'borrowed', or ruined by their own grisly demise. That's fine. They avoid having to think about it by exploring the room, reaching for light switches and opening drawers.
Wildcard and catch-all! Suggest a place, or just assume they're taking a meal in the emptiest corner of the Mess Hall they could find and clearly need someone to eat with them.
no subject
"I bet your parents regret you were ever even born, because now they have to listen to you whine!"
no subject
"Naw, see pretty sure the sperm donor isn't even aware I exist. And I'm totally in Mom's top three. Joke's on you. Besides," he says, suddenly behind the child. "I'm just too cool for regrets."
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He's too fast to hit. Chara doesn't care. They're still going to try.
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And so, before Chara has time to react to his movement, to fall or catch balance, a pillow's been placed on the floor where Peter had been standing. Just in case.
Peter isn't about to get accused of hurting a kid. And he figures the child will catch on and won't be to happy with the gentle treatment. Win-win.
no subject
--and both are perfectly positioned just so to land on the pillow he's laid out for them. Chara folds in surprise, then scrambles to their knees, looking between it and him.
They're offended. Teeth peel back in a snarl, and this dickhead is taunting them and mocking them. They want to crack his smug head open and grab at his brains like the zombie he said they were. Chara surges to their feet and has already started for him before they've even finished.
no subject
"Getting a little predictable here, honey." He's leaning against the wall, expression carefully unimpressed. "Why don't you try calming down for a moment, huh?"
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They bring a fist back that would sink into his gut if he'd stay still long enough. The fact that he won't means that they're probably going to punch the wall itself, but they don't care. They'll take the lancing pain up from their knuckles and swing again if they have to. He has them outmatched and they hate him so badly that it doesn't matter.
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He's probably already gone. They whirl around, and advancing on his new location. "Don't tell me anything about second chances. That's not what this is, that's not anything like what this is!"
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"Lucky? There's nothing lucky about this. He killed a kid and got a slap on the wrist." And what else had they expected? It was Sans. Worse yet, these were humans. "Or what about the part where there's literally nothing for me here? Are you going to tell me that's lucky too?"
no subject
"There's luck in being alive, kid." But Peter doesn't have an answers for the real question there. He'd voted for leniency on Sans. He'd given the skeleton his understanding because it'd been about family. But he can't say that it still hadn't sat odd with him, that he wasn't bothered that it had been a child on the end of that rampage. It's just something he was trying to push back and ignore. "Same stuff is here for you as the rest of us. Work for the chance to go home, hope they aren't lying to us. You can't have that kind of defeatist attitude."
no subject
"Maybe for you it's lucky to be alive. For me it's just another--" Their teeth grit. "--Just another day of dealing with people like you!"
They swing one final punch on that last word, breathing heavily. There he is, as cool as ever. Chara didn't even get close. They want to dash his skull against the floor, maybe stab him a few times with anything handy. They want to cram his own damn pillow over his face and lean on it until the kicking and grasping and muffled mewling sounds stop. Their hands open and close restlessly.
They can't do anything. He's just been playing this whole time.
They turn on their heel and make to walk towards the end of the hallway where they don't have to pass him to leave. The discarded pillow is off in this direction, if they get that far.
no subject
He doesn't try to stop Chara as they walk off; Peter just leans against a walk and watches with a slow shake of his head. The kid finally seems to be seeing some sense, Peter will give them that. But it's not making Peter feel much better. "You really need to sort some of those issues out. You're way too young to be saying things like that."
no subject
They look down at the pillow by their feet instead of at him. It's sitting all alone.
The pillowcase is the same standard material that most of the rooms seem to have, if not the color Chara recognizes. It comes off easily, exposing the cushion itself. There's a toothpick in their pocket that would've been useless for attacking, but that's just perfect for what they need now. They just need a broken thread. Maybe a few...
Unless he does something soon they'll already be in progress before he can stop them. They're taking a handful of pillow in each hand, sticking their elbows out and pulling--and the cloth splits. Pale synthetic stuffing fluff peeks through, and they tear it some more.
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Oh well. They've figured one thing out: he reacted to them breaking something. Maybe next time they'll find something that's actually important to him and ruin it spectacularly. This discovery's victory is tiny, and more than a little pathetic. If their pride wasn't already so wounded they might be tempted to reject it, but they've had a pretty awful week, so they can't really afford to.
Chara stands, turning their head. "Don't get so worked up. I'm just sorting issues."
no subject
He bursts out laughing.
"Christ, kid. You're something, you know that? Look, if it makes you feel better than go ahead. Take it out on all the bedding you can find."
no subject
They weren't laughing. They weren't--goddammit. Even if they were, the cheer is gone now, and they ruined everything, because now he's happy again. The loathing in their own chest hasn't gone anywhere, and losing even that tiny bit of ground is profoundly defeating. They want to be miserable. They are miserable.
The smile on their face is a miserable one. The jarring feeling in their chest will clear soon enough.
There's nothing for it now except to collect the tattered remains of their dignity, step over the mess, and walk away as quickly as their pride will allow.
no subject
"Bye," he mutters, sighing and waiting for the child to be away enough that he can start cleaning up without startling them.