thisavrou_log | [open] How to get space grounded in three easy steps

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[open] How to get space grounded in three easy steps

Who: Frisk and YOU!!
When: May 23rd
Where: Cargo Bay
What: A child was given rocket boots. It ends exactly how you would expect.
Warnings: NYOOM

After the rather...exciting end to the adventures with the alter-Ingress, Frisk has rather quickly found themself with a lot of spare time and not a lot to do with it. Not that they aren't doing everything they can with their jobs, both proper and self-appointed, but there's only so much that a child is allowed to do. And in the chaotic mess the last several months had been, a few new acquisitions of theirs had gone sadly unused for far too long.

Frisk is a lot more careful this time around than their first test run. For one, they're sticking to just the cargo bay rather than zipping through the halls of the ship. For another, they're starting out with a much slower speed overall, getting used to how much force will get them airborne, and just how to steer themself around. Hovering is a very tricky science, they've discovered, but the balance and reflexes they've cultivated serve them well with that.

Of course, once they think they have the basics down, they get a little less cautious, and...well.

"Wheeeeee!"

Zipping around in circles and loops much higher in the air than anyone with an ounce of concern for Frisk's well-being would ever be comfortable with, the small child giggles madly as they fly about and tumble through the air, getting more and more daring with each stunt. Of course, eventually beginner's luck is bound to wear out, and when it does...

Well. Hope you can dodge?

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Mettaton's gotten back to his usual habits by this point--no weird sickness could keep this bot down! He's busily making his way to the cargo bay today in order to make sure some items he had stored were still in order. He'd get around to installing those televisions soon enough, he just had to poll the crew for suggestions, that's all.

Needless to say, he didn't expect to come so up-close and personal with a child wearing rocket boots and making bad decisions.

Of course it's Frisk. Of course. The robot adores this little human, but man are they a bucket of mischief. One which plows directly into him before he can scoot himself out of the way. He'd been caught in his box form at this point, and as great as it was for saving battery power, Mettaton wasn't so limber on one wheel that he could get out of the way in time. Maybe if they looked fast enough, Frisk would see the flashing exclamation point of surprise across Mettaton's grid before they ran into him.

There's a loud, metallic CLANG as Frisk knocks him flat onto his back. That's skill, he's not light. But then he also wasn't prepared for that. The robot lets out what approximates to a sigh for him and doesn't immediately move. Sure. The human was impressive, no doubt! He just doesn't like being knocked down.

"Hello, honey."

Toriel sadly cannot dodge in the moment. Really when she had come down to the Cargo Bay, Toriel hadn't expected to have her very small child bodily slam into her at high speeds. The surprised and pained sound that escapes her is a strong indicator of that much.

Toriel isn't able to regain her footing in time to stop her fall and goes down, hitting the floor with a hardy thump.

"Frisk!" She clutches at her chest more than a little sore. Her tone is more than scolding at this point. "Frisk, what are you doing?"

"AGH!!"

Frisk flails and, nobly, tries very hard to swerve out of the way at the last minute. But rocketeering is a finicky science, and the tumble just means that rather than Frisk's head colliding with Mettaton's 255 DEF, it's their back instead.

So, you know, not as much damage there.

Frisk goes tumbling and rolling after the impact, the rockets sputtering out and dying before Frisk comes to a stop.

"Owwwwww..."

They sit up and rub their head with a groan, before what just happened fully catches up with them and they scramble to their feet to run over to Mettaton.

"Oh no, I'm really, really sorry! Are you okay?"

Mettaton gives a dismissive handflap, before bracing both his arms against the ground. There's a metallic click as he extends his arms just enough to get himself upright and onto his wheel. See? No harm done. His defense really is great.

"It's fine, darling!! I'm a sturdy robot! What about you, though? You were moving very quickly, I cannot imagine you escaped harm entirely!"

Y'know, and Frisk also said ow. The universal sound for pain!

As a matter of fact...

Still recovering from his little waltz around the void, the hasty avoidance leaves Sans a little more winded than usual. Ribs rising and falling from surprise, he cocks a crooked look in Frisk's ever changing direction.

"Whoa, kiddo, watch your step!" Said in a rush, half warning and half weak scolding. The discipline thing is really more Toriel's area, and it shows. "You could take an eye socket out with those things."

Frisk collides with Toriel with a yelp, flailing and sputtering in the air before the ignition turns off and they fall flat onto their face. Oh crap oh man they didn't run into who they think they--

...they totally did.

"I-I didn't mean to--I'm tryin' t' be careful, honest, I'm sorry!" Frisk knows good and well from Toriel's tone that they're in really deep trouble, but they can't help trying to worm out of it. "I jus' wanted to practice, an' I didn't know where would be big enough, an'--"

Frisk sees Sans in just enough time to squeak and fling themself to the side--or at least try to. As it is it keeps the poor kid from gaining any EXP, and they collide pretty hard with a crate before the boots turn off and Frisk lands on the floor with not a terrible amount of grace.

Frisk pops back up without any mind for the bruises that they've almost definitely accrued now, looking around frantically for Sans. Once they see him whole and intact they sigh with relief, though their expression very quickly turns into a worried one. "I'm sorry! I didn't think anybody else was here!"

"Frisk." One wouldn't think a one syllable name could contain parental disapproval and disappointment, yet- Toriel managed it. Her expression shows the disappointment very clearly.

"This is not practice, young one. You're flying around aimlessly, flying into people!"

Their rambles stops in an instant with a guilty wince, and Frisk's gaze lowers to the ground as Toriel scolds them. Their fingers twist together in nervous habit, and easy sign of Frisk's quickly falling mood.

"...'m sorry..."

C'mon, kids say ow all the time, doesn't mean they actually took any damage!

...

19/20 HP

Frisk lets out a sigh of relief when Mettaton rights himself again, and frowns before rolling their shoulder with a faint wince. Yeah, that's gonna bruise real well.

"'M okay. Just hurts a little."

Toriel softens, just a touch. Her tone isn't quite as sharp as she speaks again. "You know better than this. Much better than this, young one." She reaches out to touch Frisk's shoulder gently.

"How long have you been doing this?"

Edited 2016-06-04 05:02 (UTC)

"That's the unfortunate thing about a public space, kiddo. People show up whether you want 'em to or not."

Sans grins, reaching over to toussel their hair. An unspoken gesture of no hard feelings.

"Where'd you get those?""

He sees that. You lost one whole HP. Next thing you know, you're going to be posing dramatically with blood running down your brow. Calm down, Frisk!

"Ohhh, if only I had something to give you so that you'd feel better."

Mettaton holy shit it's just 1 HP.

"On a different note, however...since when could you fly? That's a talent I've never seen you display! I'm sure you'd have done so during the cooking show if you could!"

Frisk frowns a little, still feeling ashamed, but the hair ruffling makes them quirk a little smile.

"Oh! Um, th' captains gave 'em out a couple'a months ago."

Frisk bites their lip and nods, still not meeting Toriel's gaze. The tense feeling in their shoulders slackens a little bit when Toriel rests her hand on their shoulder, though.

"...dunno...couple 'a hours...?" They lost track of time, honestly.

She squeezes her child's shoulder gently, a unspoken sign of affection even with her clear disappointment about what her child has gotten up to. "Did you run into other people like this?"

"From the captains? Well, their safety standards continue to amaze." It's a joke, and Sans doesn't look particularly upset about the fact. More amused than anything, really.

"I think we better find you a helmet or your Mom's gonna spearhead a mutiny."

...yeah, that's a heck of a guilty silence there. Frisk finally nods again, just barely.

They're in so much trouble.

Mettaton, please. Frisk holds up their hands with a weak grin, but the question distracts them.

"Oh!" Frisk giggles a little bit, and lifts up one foot to show off their snazzy new boots. "Th' captains gave 'em out a while ago! I kinda forgot about 'em for a bit, but I wanted to try 'em out!"

"Frisk..." The disappointment is impossible to miss now. Toriel had honestly expected better from Frisk. Whilst some goofing around would be impossible with those boots, she can't tolerate the idea of Frisk doing so in such a reckless manner. Much less colliding with people because of it.

"I'm going to confiscate those boots. Until you can show you can responsibly use them, you can't wear them." Out of habit she brushes loose hair away from Frisk's eyes. "I'm grounding you as well. I trust you to make wise choices, but you've been endangering yourself and others today."

"How interesting!! Useless to me, but interesting all the same! I think you ought to get in some more practice before you use quite so much speed though, sweetheart! Not everyone is as sturdy as I am and I know hurting people isn't any sort of thing you'd want to do!!"

He's only saying it because he cares, Frisk. Better him than Toriel anyway, right?

"If you want flying lessons, I'd be happy to help you with that, of course!"

At mention of Toriel, Frisk gets a very, very nervous look. Oh man, oh man, oh gosh...

"U-um, yeah, I...I should try an' find one..."

"Mmm...I thought I had it figg'red out, mostly..." Frisk scuffs at the floor with one boot, looking properly chastized...at least until Mettaton makes that offer.

"Really? You'll teach me?"

Sans leans down a bit, winking conspiratorially.

"I won't tell if you won't." He nods for Frisk to follow. "C'mon. Let's go track down that helmet."

"Certainly? Why not, I'm good at flying!!"

Does he have to prove it to you, Frisk? Does he, really? And while he's glad to know that the kid was properly apologetic about running into him, Mettaton isn't always known for his excellent decision making. Rather, he's known for being a little capricious!

"The only real difference is that you have two sources of propulsion and I only have one, but we can sort that out as we go along!!"

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[open] How to get space grounded in three easy steps

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