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Yeah

Thats the power i was fighting so hard to stop wasnt it?

[...what? They're not supposed to be quoting the script like this? Sans said a script would - would help. Is it helping? Maybe they're too busy laughing to know for certain.]

youll be able to do whatever you want

Thats a Wonderful Idea

[Well it's clear to someone like him that something's wrong. Quoting a script wasn't exactly something Frisk went out of their way to do and knowing their aim to find swords...]

Frisk I cannot speak to you face to face, but there is the option of video. Of a sort. But would you like to talk like that?

[Having a face to a name rather than a string of code might help a little.]

[They're - they're a bit out of sorts. Nothing wrong with that. They've just had their entire worldview upended, possibly being used a catalyst to fuel a RESET. They've no control, none at all. And when did they...ha ha, when did they ever?

There's a long pause before they answer.]

if you Want

[It's not like Wonderland ever considers these things when it snatches ideas to use to torment those who live here. Control is finicky and especially so in here.

But that's getting into things that's best left up to the Puppeteers.

Zacharie flicks the video on. He keeps it on him but away from his face. That definitely won't help and if it becomes clear that even this is over-stepping that line, he'll cut the feed. But until then Frisk has a nice look at a white sweater with a black heart on it.]

Apologizes for the terrible view, unless you like sweaters as much as I do. Now then! Would you like a story?

[One would consider it a waste of air, but it's not like he didn't do this with Sucre at times.]

[The video flickers on. They can't see his face, but - that doesn't matter a whole lot. Frisk is barely visible in their own feed as well. They're still in Room 12. Haven't gotten to moving yet. They're braced up against their bed, knees drawn up to their chest, and they speak quietly.

They shouldn't disturb their Partner.

Their hair curtains their face, but they twitch faintly, their words emerging as a quiet, coarse whisper.]

Shouldn't you...SAVE your breath?

[With what little power they have, they -

They can't even SAVE that much.]

[He notes the quiet tone and decides to tone down the theatrics. If someone else was in there he shouldn't disturb that.]

Ahaha, interesting pun amigo. But I will move when the air thins so do not worry about me.

[And in the end, it's fine if they can't Save him.]

I have a couple of books here or we can see if I can flex my creative muscles and attempt to make up one. Which one interests you?

[They've already begun to feel the drowsiness of protracted, prolonged wakefulness, the air thick and tight and overly stuffy. They'll have to move soon. But there's...ha ha, no real point in it, right? It'll all start over soon. Maybe they should just wait until later.

If they asphyxiate, it's hardly any great loss to anybody, right?

Maybe that'll fix everything.]

You...you choose.

[Their brain's moving too slowly to choose on their own. And maybe he can get better at choosing things for himself too. Right?]

[Funny enough, Zacharie doesn't see people die face to face often. Specters, certainly, but never people.

It may fix things. It may not. But Frisk's loss would be great.

And the NPC's code helpfully reminds him that absolutely none of the books in the Library were hopeful by any means, contained nonsense or simply ended rather abruptly. So making one up it was.]

This is a story of a young traveler. Once upon a time they found themselves in a far away land, somewhere where no one knew who they were. Certainly the traveler could be considered many things but the exact nature of people like them are always left up to interpenetration. It is not much of a story otherwise.

The land they found themselves in was one that was said to be a land of prosperity, yet it was nothing more than a shadow of itself. Yet everyone living there was happy. Can you tell me why Frisk?

[He tells them a story.

It's not a joke. It's not a joke at all, about kids who ate pie with their bare hands, about kids who played in a muddy garden, about kids who slept in the soil. Dirty jokes. Awful jokes. Shouldn't laugh at them.

It's not a story, either, about a child who climbed a mountain. A quick snapshot in sepia of a foot hooked over a root, hair streaming behind a blurred-distant face as the splayed-arm shape plummeted down and down and down. It's a new story.

They like stories.

He pauses to ask a question. They shake their head fractionally; pause, and then say, aloud, because it's good to be polite when someone's going out of their way to be nice to you like this - ]

I don't know. Why?

[It's not a epic either. Just a story of someone going on a trip and meeting strange people, turning out to be the strangest of them all. Stories with blades, kings and words could wait a little while.

For now, it's just about someone killing time.]

Parasites, little golden bugs that burrowed under their flesh. Now I know it sounds rather morbid and a situation that could be considered forced, as much as the traveler first thought, but it was not. The people provided life for the bugs and in turn the bugs provided happiness. There had even been a discussion between the people and the bugs and those who were unwilling were not forced to go though the process.

The people offered this opportunity to the traveler as well, so they spoke to the leader of the bugs. They were curious as to the bugs' true motivations, and so the leader and the traveler spoke together.

Three days and three nights passed as they had their conversation. Naturally they did not become close friends as it takes more than that. However, they did understand each other a little better than before. The bugs truly wished for the people's happiness. And so the traveler agreed to the people's offer.

But before they could join, the traveler was called back to their own home. Even though it wasn't yet the ending, a cliff-hanger was always needed for dramatic tension.

[Like now. He'll give Frisk a second to comment on it if they want to.]

[They truly wished for their people to be happy.

They've never heard this story before. It's a little like an old tale they think they've heard, or at least it starts that way. Stories about happy folk who were blind, who lived contentedly in the shadow of a mountain that brought darkness into their lives.

...they don't remember how it ends. Their memory, already scrabbling for purchase, flounders to recover the pieces, cobble them into something recognizable, but the final picture is...fuzzy, at best. They think it ended horribly. Most stories involving mountains do.]

Did they return?

It took a few years. What the traveler had been called back for took quite awhile, even though it was important. During that time various things happened to the village. It grew, it burned down. It was rebuilt and children were born as the elders passed away.

[That's the cycle of life, after all. Zacharie only aged as the plot demanded, so for now he was currently stuck somewhere in his twenties. But the real world moved with time.]

But the traveler did return and found the leader of the bugs. They both once again shared stories of their lives within three days and three nights. The traveler told the leader about the kingdom they had been to and in turn the bugs' leader told them about the village's history in the past few years.

The leader of the bugs asked if the traveler still wished to be joined. Sadly, for various reasons, the traveler had to refuse. However they asked if the leader was willing to travel with them. It was not as if they couldn't leave the village, as many of those who resided there had done so. But that was not possible either. The leader of the bugs knew their destiny was to come about soon and they had to stay. They had to see the belly of the world and swarm inside until a great feat was managed.

But the leader gave the traveler a gift instead, from their own body. They said, "With this you will never be unaware of the enemies you may face, for I will be your eyes and happiness. I will walk with you even past my own end."

[It's still not the end, but he needs a second to breathe. What do you think so far Frisk?]

Edited 2017-02-05 15:52 (UTC)

[It sounds the way stories should sound; grand and sweeping, vague in all the right ways. Zacharie lapses into silence for a moment, and they chew on their lip as they wait.

They should be patient. They are patient, but - they want to make sure he's all right. He shouldn't be telling such a story at the expense of himself. He only has so much air. They both do.]

Are you okay?

[They shouldn't leave things off like that. They're - they want to know how the story ends.]

What...was it? The gift?

[The camera moves a little bit but it's mostly due to him shaking his head.]

I am fine amigo, merely trying to keep the story straight.

[The comment about the belly of the world lead straight into The Up Children Down and, depending on who you asked, was a little bit of backstory into the game. An odd way of presenting it and the font was awful but it was also a rather morbid story.

So...he shakes out an Eye from the sleeve of his free hand, the bright green iris staring at Frisk as he holds it up. Hi.]

The gift was the leader's own eye. In an effort to be able to make the people happy, the bugs found a way to see things for what they were. So with this gift the traveler was able to continue safely on until the end of their days, with their friend as their guide. Once the traveler passed away, many attempted to replicate it but it was missing the bound between the two, hence why the rest are all fake. And it was that way until the world itself came to an end and was born anew. The end.

How was that?

It's good.

[They've never heard a story like that before. It's a little bit strange and a little bit unsettling, but that's all right. It's a feeling, like watching cloudy shapes on a screen torn through with static, whispers about creepy faces and pies made from buttercups - a story they were never supposed to watch, or see, or look in upon.]

Are your Eyes the real ones?

Sadly not. They are replicas but they are also my own. [A pause, then Zacharie realizes that may sound a little morbid.] Metaphorically speaking.

[He's human in the end, so it wasn't like his flesh and eyes could grow back if they were removed. And, well, there's not a whole lot of use that Zacharie's eyes could have.

The NPC slips the Eye back up his sleeve. When the water because apparent and the threat of it all caving in, Zacharie packed up his more important things: the Items, the Grand Chocolatier, the swan Sucre gave him and the books Frisk brought him. Just in case.]

If you would like to share a story, feel free. Or I can tell another one.

[That's almost funny. A tiny sound hitches at the back of their throat, something that almost approximates a laugh or a giggle, and they tuck their head in between their scabbed knees for a moment.

Their face re-emerges from between those knobby peaks, chin propped up on one kneecap.]

You should SAVE your breath.

[The same pun as before is lazy work. Forgive them, Zacharie; the fog has already begun to creep across their brain and fuzz their thoughts.]

[The camera is jostled again as Zacharie laughs and it doesn't sound muffled like it does with his mask on. Frisk might guess why he's not showing his face right now and it was probably a combination of practicality, oxygen starvation and apathy that made the NPC not care all that much.

Free falling was a wonderful thing, wasn't it?]

Perhaps, but I would rather LOAD up on happier things in the meantime before I have to move. And as I said Frisk, you do not have to worry about me.

[Zacharie will die here or he won't. Fate is fate. Him, of all people, can't call for help. Please, accept it.

But hey, at the end of the day, both of them still had bad jokes. And Zacharie's not one to judge for a repeat performance.]

Are you feeling a little better amigo?

[They worry. That's just...their nature. They worry about people, and they worry even more when they tell them not to. When someone tells you not to worry, nine times out of ten it means there's something to worry about.

You don't have to worry about me, they almost answer. But that'd be...pretty hypocritical of them. Throwing words back in people's faces. They're supposed to be getting better about that.]

I am. Thank you.

[A nature that's bent on worrying and one that is not. They may just feed into each other, undercut by the sound of someone far, far away laughing.

But that's that.]

You are welcome Frisk. If you feel you are at risk, please move rooms. But I will see you later, dear friend.

You too.

[They don't stay in contact for long after that - not in visual contact, in any case. They sever the feed there. It's best to conserve their oxygen.]

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