* Despite everything, it's still you. (
determinedest) wrote2016-02-01 10:14 pm
Entry tags:
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You've reached Frisk. If I'm not answering my phone, please leave a message or find me on the second floor, Room 12.
( text | audio | video | or literally anything )

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[Some of their hair sticks to the sides of their head, their temples, the blood half-drying into a tight, rust-brown coating. Their throat feels ragged, torn, especially with the bitter tang of their own blood still fresh in their mouth, the indent on their tongue where they bit it too hard and too fast.]
I'm tired to arguing with you about them. I'm not giving up on them, do you understand that? I'm never giving up on them!
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* What have they done for you lately? Attack your friends for no reason? Stress you out? Tell you they don't love you?
* Who's taking care of you?
* I'm not sure you can keep doing this forever.
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[There's fresh tears spilling out over their bloodied face, thick and hot. They don't even dash them away angrily. Can't. They'll just get more blood all over them.]
I told you. Stop talking about them. I'm not giving up on them. They're hurt and alone and I left them. They weren't gonna do it. They weren't - I just made it worse.
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* You're hurt in every sense a person can be hurt right now.
* Do you have someone you can talk to, Frisk?
* I'm scared your breaking point is closer than you realize.
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You think my breaking point is close?
It's already happened. It happened way before now, and there's no fixing it. There's no fixing me!
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They're acting... a bit like the real Chara. Melodramatic. Oh, I'm so broken, I'm so awful, I deserve the consequences of my horrible behaviour, but I guess I won't stop doing it because I'm so defective forever.
Chara swallows their distaste. Have to be useful if they're going to be SAVED. Frisk won't SAVE them if they aren't worthy of it. Starts writing.]
* Frisk, I love you a lot, okay?
* I know there's nothing I can do from this side of the glass, but I love you.
* Can you... pause for a bit? Take care of yourself for me.
* Patch up your hand. Wash your face. Get something nice to drink. I'll be here. I'll wait.
* We can talk when you aren't bleeding. This will probably be a long conversation.
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They need to find Chara. They need to fix themselves back into something acceptable.
They need to fix things again.]
I...I can't do this right now. I'm sorry. I can't. I just need - I need to fix things again. I need to make sure they're all right. And then I can - do whatever you need me to do.
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But... they don't want Frisk running off to lick Chara's boots, either. What, they're just gonna sprint around Wonderland with dirt and blood and tear-tracks smeared on their face, letting the open cuts on their hand get infected and disgusting? All for poor Chara's sake?]
* I'm not asking you to do this for ME, Frisk. I know I'm still a Chara, but I'm not that selfish.
* Put yourself first. You need it.
* ...You know, or don't. You don't have to listen to me if you don't want to, I guess.
* If you've got better things to do than waste time on me, I'll be quiet.
* I'm just... worried about you.
1/??
[Just keep expecting Frisk to form dichotomies where there aren't any. Good or bad. Real Chara or Mirror Chara. Choose, Frisk. Choose! Why aren't you choosing!
Take another breath, try to contain themselves. Act reasonably, lock it down, don't speak unless spoken to, close everything off, off, off, breathe breathe breathe focus focus remember you're just a kid there are consequences you're not breathing and you ran away like you always do and took away the choice you're still not breathing and that was a condemnation because they're bad the demon that comes when you call its name and you're still not breathing they're? they're still not they're still not they're still not
breathing ]
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They're on the floor now. And they're breathing too fast. Fast, fast, fast, hyperventilating, Asriel telling them he's not safe to be around and Toriel sitting on Chara's bed, the lines in her face crisp and drawn as she tries to be the pillar of support, Asgore sobbing, clutching them, begging them to turn back time so he can see his son one more time because no one ever told him ]
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They lie there. They lie there. They lie there. Words on a mirror. Get up, answer. They lie there. They lie there. They lie there. They lie there.
Someone's laughing.]
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Not Chara's best friend. Not anymore.
Not Chara's family. Not anymore.
Not Chara's partner. Not anymore.
Nothing. Nothing. Grind it all to dust. Stamp it out. Reaching, groping for a resonance that hums its approval as their fingers close around it but it doesn't.
Breathe, breathe.
Not so fast. Breathe.
They breathe.
They get it under control.]
END
[The words emerge brokenly, bit by tenuous bit as they grind them out, try not to ache.]
I can't...do this. Not right now. Please.
[Quieter, quieter.]
I'm sorry.
LORD
All they can do is scribble Frisk's name in the glass over and over. Doesn't help. Achieves nothing.
Frisk pulls themselves together, and a wild, frenetic swipe of Chara's sleeve obliterates all the repetitions of Frisk's name off the mirror's surface.]
* Frisk, please.
* Take a break.
* I won't say anything. I'll leave. Just... take a break.
EVERYTHING IS OKIE FUCKIN DOKIE
[It's funny. It's so funny. They feel exhausted, lying here, propped up on their hands and knees with a hand that burns as it drags over carpet. They thought maybe they'd be safe here, but look, not even that's right!
That was cruel. Best if they keep that to themselves.]
Where do I go? What do I do? I don't know, not without them, not -
[Voice chokes into silence. Throat closes.
It's gone.]
barks internally
* Bandage your hand. Please.
* I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.
* I shouldn't have bugged you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it worse.
* It's always us Charas backing you into these corners, ha ha.
* That's not funny.
[They erase it all. Start over.]
* Please, please, just take care of yourself.
* Go wherever you want and do whatever you want, as long as it makes you feel better.
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[The word tears out of their throat in broken, breathless staccato. Stop acting like it's your fault.
It's not funny. It's not.
Frisk gets up slowly, shoulders hunching, their good hand wrapped around their middle, gripping the opposite arm.]
I'll come back. I'll come back later. But I can't - [Throat hitches. Again. Swallow it aside.] - I can't do this. Not now.
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* Okay.
* Sorry.
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