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Who: Frisk (

trueend) & you!
When: OOC: 6/5 - 6/14 / IC: 7/18 - 7/23
Where: CERES Food Stop, park, marketplace, apartments, and generally around.
What: Yet another Event Log^TM.
Rating/Warning: Possible spoilers for all Undertale routes in threads.

OPTION I: CERES FOOD STOP (PRE-EVENT, 7/18)

[So. The Food Stop is unusually crowded today. Uncomfortably crowded, too, if you happen to be a 4'9" tall shorty and nearly everyone in the colony towers over you.

Being stuck in this crowd doesn't seem to bother Frisk, though. They're pretty used to navigating through big crowds by themselves, and they don't seem to have any trouble balancing their drink as they look for a good spot to sit down in the park-like area. Or, at least, they don't seem to have a problem at first.

Anyone glancing at them might notice the way they suddenly freeze, staring at a spot all the way across the area. They might also notice the way they suddenly break into a (kind of slow, lbr) run, trying to get to whatever they've spotted — right before they bump into your character. Or, almost bump into your character, if they're stopped before that happens. Either way, there may or may not be iced tea all over the place now.

Frisk looks appropriately apologetic, at least.]

Sorry, I— [And they trail off, glancing around the area like they're trying to find someone.] ... I...

[Yeah. They're looking really confused and disappointed right about now.]

OPTION II: PARK (7/19)

[Weird, smoky-looking body aside, an animal is an animal. And Frisk will immediately be trying to help the little dove following them around, seeing as how it does act like it's hurt or injured. Too bad it's non-corporeal and thus impossible to help out — though they don't know that yet.

And not knowing that is exactly why they're laying belly-down on the ground, reaching under a park bench like they're trying to coax the dove into coming closer. Anyone close enough might hear them mumble:]

Come here... please? Just wanna help. Promise.

[... Though anyone close enough to hear might also want to ask this kid what the heck they're doing crawling on the ground like that. It's not sanitary??? Not at all.

Of course, the dove might decide to run out from underneath the bench and run into your character at some point. If no memory has been previously agreed on and this is something that interests you, please put II-A for a positive memory and II-B for a negative memory, or simply II if you don't want anything. Memories will be randomly selected unless requested otherwise.]

OPTION III: MARKETPLACE (7/20)

[Maybe they're inside a store. Maybe they're simply window shopping, indulging themselves by checking out new things while saving up their money. Maybe they're on their way out of this area. Whatever the case may be, however, they're suddenly stopping. Glancing behind them. Frowning.]

You sound sad. I dunno how to help you, though... Not yet. [Talking to the dove following them around, not that any onlooker would know. They sound pretty upset, nonetheless.] ... But I'll figure something out, okay?

[They've noticed by now that their little "friend" can't interact with the world around them, just as they've noticed the unfortunate side-effect that comes whenever it runs into someone else. That doesn't mean they're giving on trying to talk to it, though.

Just as the above scenario: the dove may run into your character at some point. If this is something that interests you but we haven't previously agreed on a memory, please put III-A for a positive memory and III-B for a negative memory, or simply III if you don't want anything. Memories will be randomly selected unless requested otherwise.]

OPTION IV: APARTMENT BUILDING (7/21-7/23)

[Vertigo and nausea aren't the only side effects that come from their little friend bumping into the people around them.

By 7/21 they've already forgotten someone very important to them. Someone, that coincidentally, has been following them around in the form of a hallucination over the past few days.

Of course, Frisk no longer remembers who Asriel is — so they're more than a little confused by the kid they keep seeing every now and then. This confusion only grows throughout the following days, until eventually, they try talking to their hallucination.]

... You keep following me. Feels like I should know you, but... I don't. Please say something...?

[The hallucination is gone by then, but that doesn't mean anyone passing through didn't hear them basically talking to themselves. Feel free to ask them what's up? Or don't. The multiple choice adventure is in your hands.]

WILDCARD (7/18 - 7/23)

[Want to do something outside of the scenarios provided above? Go for it! If you want to share memories with Frisk but don't want to leave it up to RNG, feel free to send me a PM or hit me up on plurk at

_ayato so we can agree on something!]

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[Walks around the park to clear your head are for people with far more ambition and energy than the lazy bag of bones otherwise known as Sans. He's taken a liking to the trees and the general calmness of the atmosphere, and the many benches can attest to the plethora of naps, long and short, that he's undergone without a care to time, weather, or place. It's a gift and a curse. Equal parts both, leaning a bit towards gift on a good day.]

[Today's nap of choice, however, isn't a clever duck of his usual, mundane responsibilities. That would earn a slight spring in Sans' usual schlep, the kind where a well-deserved rest was afoot.]

[Nope, today's nap is reminiscent of his time Underground. A time when taking things a day at a time was an exercise in trying not to overthink the future or the despair-inducing irony that was the lack thereof. When you can spend a good twelve hours out of the day curled up in a warm blanket, eyes shut, and just forget for a while.]

[But that was the root of today's, and most likely tomorrow's, problem: something had gone terribly wrong, and Papyrus had lost every inkling as to who the hell is Sans. It was the kind of grief that, after slamming the older skeleton like a freight train, flipped from a roller coaster of emotion to a complete freefall into Kübler-Ross' mahogany-laden* office like a desperate contestant in a competition for the absolute worst ride in Disney World. Zero stars. Would not go again. Tower of Terror is ten million times better.]

[The point is that Sans is having a pretty bad time.]

[Bad enough that he'd grabbed a couple of choice items from his room, headed out the door of his and his brother's shared apartment, and... kept walking. No shortcuts or cheating, just walking. All while his own spirit animal dove struggled to keep up with his pace. Not that he moved with any particular swiftness, this is still Sans we're talking about and he's still a lazy fothermucker, but his dove had the privilege of flopping forward with the kind of limp that would make Tiny Tim go "Damn, son."]

[Sans and his barely corporeal companion finally come to a halt when he spots a certain human child making friends with the ground. He instantly unclenches the fist he'd made around an important piece of paper hastily stuffed into his pocket, and his shoulders relax to their usual lackadaisical slack. Slackadaisical? Yeah, that's a good word for it.]

[He counts on his forever grin to hold up the facade as he bends down to greet Frisk. Time to be his everyday self. Maybe helping out the second most important person in his life will help with the hurt of losing the first. And maybe with the added frustration that comes with the nagging feeling that he's forgetting something (someone?) himself.]

Hey, kiddo.

Didja lose something?

[*Who the heck knows if Dr. Kübler-Ross had any mahogany in her office. It can only be assumed she was classy AF and decorated like a pro.]

[They're pretty focused on trying to coax the dove to come closer, so when Sans greets them, they're a little startled. Not enough to hit their head on the side of the bend or anything like that, but enough that they visibly jolt. They're pushing themselves up to look at him a moment later, the frustrated look on their face quickly getting replaced by a smile.

Looks like nothing is out of the ordinary with Frisk... so far, at least.]

Didn't lose anything. [Shaking their head and shooting a quick glance at their new "friend".] ... Getting followed by a bird, though. It looks injured, but... Won't let me help. Don't know why.

[And in the few seconds they've been talking to Sans, said dove has slowly waddled out from under the table. It's not touching anyone yet, and Frisk hasn't noticed it moved, but. Well.

How long until it decides to try and give flying another go?]

So you got one too, huh?

Mine's also pretty beat up.

[And he feels bad about that, but more important things are going on outside of a couple of stubborn doves who won't let a couple of cool cats help with their boo boos.]

[Sans kneels down until he's at Frisk's level, winking at them with a thumbs up before peering underneath the bench. This is a nice little distraction from the end-game Jenga tower that is Sans' life.]

[Maybe they can go from some ice cream after. Wouldn't that be nice?]

Huh.

I don't uh... I don't see it.

You have one, too? Weird...

[But also pretty curious, if you ask them. They're going to take a moment to examine the surrounding area, but they don't see a second bird behind or next to Sans. Which is, uh, odd. Since their's has been following around all day long. Maybe this one is more independent? Or not.

They look underneath the bench again, ready to tell Sans that their bird is right there — except it isn't. Uh.]

... Did it leave?

[They're as confused as they sound.

Of course, Frisk's bird has ~~a shitty~~ an impeccable sense of timing, so it chooses that moment to sneak up and waddle through Sans.

And then]

[It feels more like an out of body experience than a memory.

Snowdin is quiet. More quiet than it ever should be. The only thing they can hear right now is the sound of their own feet, shuffling through the snow like they're being forcibly dragged forward by something. It's too cold out here. They don't really feel it. They don't really feel anything, actually. There's a heavy layer of dust coating their hands and rubbing against the space between their fingers, but all they can feel is an all encompassing sense of numbness. They shouldn't keep going, but they can and therefore they will.

They continue shambling forward. It's hard to see past all this fog, but they've memorized the way by now.

Snowdin is still quiet.

And then it isn't.

They don't feel numb anymore. In fact, they feel way too many things at once. They feel anger, hate and irritation. They want to keep going. Papyrus is in the way. They feel they need to get stronger. Eradicating the enemy is the only way to become strong. They want to finish the job. And with this "determination", they'll see things through to the very end.

It all feels foreign, like none of it belongs to them.

As Payrus's head turns to dust and he finally, finally shuts up, the numbness returns. That was forgettable. They step over the pile of dust, not caring that this used to be their friend once upon a time, and continue toward Waterfall. Maybe fighting Undyne will make them stronger? Or maybe she'll just cling to life while her body slowly loses shape, again and again and again. That's always been interesting, hasn't it?

(It hasn't.)]

[The memory ends.

Frisk looks pale. Unhealthily so. The sudden nausea and vertigo they've been slammed with are not the sole reason for this, however. Not at all. They're covering their mouth with on hand, holding themselves steady on the ground with the other, and there's already a cold sweat working its way down their back. They want to leave. They want to run. They want to puke. They know something was shared — something they've been trying to forget since they reached the surface with all their friends. Something disgusting.

It's one thing for the people they've met here to see the first time they killed Toriel (an accident). It's another entirely for Sans to see the last time they (purposely) killed Papyrus. This is different. This is worse. This is something they never ever wanted to happen.

But it did. And they can't get their legs to cooperate, so they stay where they are, rooted to the ground. They're... definitely not looking at Sans, though. They don't want to see his reaction. They can't.]

[The first thing that hits Sans is the subtle current of pine, a floral spiciness that warms the cold air of Snowdin almost as much as the perpetual mirth of its people. It's the scent of familiarity, his company during those lonely, chilly nights out on sentry duty when he could catch only the tiniest melody of laughter from the nearby town underneath an inky black 'sky'. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't the surface everyone longed so desperately to reach, but it was home.]

[For a few brief, but panicked moments, he wonders if another RESET has thrown him from the strange colony on another planet back Underground. He wonders if he's experiencing the last of his memories before he has to relive the same life again, unknowing of his prior experiences outside of a couple of quick snippets in his dreams as every RESET acts like a recurring cycle of metaphorical death and twisted reincarnation. He wonders how many times he'd felt this way before disappearing into another repeat of his and everyone else's life.]

[When he realizes he's still 'there', however, Sans' trepidation melts into bewilderment, and his focus hones in on the present. The present where Snowdin is smothered by an eerie quiet outside of the uncharacteristic piercing crunch of ice and snow underneath tiny feet that most certainly aren't his. The (slight) difference in height points to someone just a little bit smaller than he is, more 'solid'... he's a human, made out of carbon and water and proteins instead of magic and dust.]

[Specifically, he's Frisk. Weird, but okay. It's similar to before when he'd experienced a memory through Papyrus' eyes, although that memory, pleasant as it was, ended with the younger skeleton completely forgetting Sans' existence. The panic rises again in the back of Sans' mind as he considers the very real possibility that this time Frisk will forget him as well, but as the memory continues to play, he realizes that everything's about to get so much worse than that.]

[Just the sound of Papyrus' voice slices a deep, stinging wound into Sans' heart, compounded by the anger and frustration welling from within Frisk's endless and seemingly insatiable determination. He watches helplessly as their dust covered hand swings at his brother with a weapon he can't discern--he's too busy wanting to shout for them to stop, for someone to come stop them, for Papyrus to stop opening his arms and run the hell away for once.]

[But nothing comes out.]

[Back in reality, a paltry whimper just manages to escape as Sans continues to live through the memory of his brother crumbling into dust, encouraging the human who'd just killed him until his final breath. Because that's the kind of guy Papyrus is: forever optimistic, forever encouraging, and forever believing in the best of even the worst people.]

[As Frisk steps over Papyrus' dust, barely visible against the stark white of snow, Sans' own memories come into play: sleepless nights tossing and turning in his messy bed while he's plagued by fragments of other timelines. Fragments where Sans trudges through the paths around Snowdin, stumbling on a red scarf and the remains of the last person in the entire world who deserved the merciless gaze of a cold-blooded murderer. That particular nightmare had prompted Sans to meander from his room to Papyrus', sneak inside, and plop himself next to his little brother, as if he could ward off any harm that could possibly come his way. As if the evils of the world would dissipate at the sight of something more disgusting and terrible in the guise of 'just some guy' who couldn't muster up enough shits to protect the one person who mattered in that microcosm of monsters buried deep beneath a mountain by the humans who wanted nothing more than to see them destroyed.]

[And that was the issue, wasn't it? Or at least a good chunk of the issue. Sans could feel the burning hatred fueling Frisk's determination until it twisted into a bloodlust uncharacteristic of the child he'd befriended and grown to love as his own. Something, someone pulled them, perhaps literally, into these heinous acts. The same acts that Sans could have prevented had he just been there like someone with even an iota of responsibility. It was his fault, too. He wants nothing more than to express that to the human child slowly emerging in his peripheral vision, but he can't. Not when his next words, quiet and barely louder than a whisper, are so full of venom and vitriol.]

What... What the hell did you do, Frisk?

[As he stumbles backwards and catches himself on the bench's arm, Sans is barely able to choke out the question. The cool metal is barely registered beneath his clenched fist. His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms heavy.]

[Mom's spaghetti.]

[They might not be looking at Sans, but that doesn't stop them from flinching at his voice. All that venom and all that vitriol. This is the reason they didn't want him to know what happened before the latest RESET. Sans might be aware of their abilities, but he didn't need to know how they'd abused them. He didn't need to know about the voice messages, the judgments, and the many, many times Sans disappeared until that golden hallway before Asgore's throne room.

"Then why'd you kill my brother?", indeed.

They tried LOADING their SAVE several times, the first time they purposely killed Papyrus. They were curious. Everything felt less like reality and more like a previously scripted series of events. Only Sans had something different to say whenever they LOADED in the past. It was interesting. Fun, almost. But he never had anything new to say if his brother was dead.

Frisk still feels disgusted every time they remember how disappointed they were by that.]

I... [Slowly. It feels like they're trying to push styrofoam through their teeth, but Sans deserves an answer. A real answer. Not something they would say just to watch his reaction.] ... Already saw what I did, didn't you? I killed him.

[They remember aiming straight for the neck, feeling strong when they watched his vertebra snap and his head fall away from the rest of his body. There's always this weird disconnect between themselves and the memories from their previous RESET, but what Papyrus said that previous time stuck with them. Anyone can be a great person if they just try.]

Didn't really have to. Just... wanted to.

[Too bad Papyrus was horribly wrong. They've been trying all this time to be a better person, but it's just not happening. Their LOVE might be 1 now, but it almost reached 20. They already know what it feels like to kill and maim and slaughter just to gain that power. Sans has every right to hate them; to tell them to go to hell.

They're a dirty brother killer, after all.]

[Even in the heavy silence that follows Frisk's words, Sans can't think. All that comes to his mind is the golden visage of the castle's hallway as light filters in from fissures in Mt. Ebott's crust and the tiny figure that peeks out from the elevator to face him head on.]

[Back then Sans judged Frisk for their actions, every bit of EXP they earned, any change in their LOVE, and more. He recalled how pristine their stats were, and how he'd congratulated them on the love they'd earned from newly made friends over their journey.]

[What a grand fucking joke to play on a comedian.]

So because you could, you had to.

Is that it?

[Sans was always good at controlling himself with a well-placed joke, a stealthy dodge of a loaded question, and a winning smile that could disarm just about anyone who didn't have a death wish on him.]

[Here, though, his peaking levels of stress and the sudden revelation that the kid he cared about so much treated him, his friends, and his family like playthings are far too much to keep hidden underneath a tranquil surface. His own self-directed anger doesn't help, either, as part of him berates himself for not being there to stop everything.]

Is that why Papyrus had to die?

[God. They want to puke. They really, really, really want to puke. Maybe cry while they're at it. It would get rid of the stinging in their eyes, if they did. But — they hold back. This isn't the time. This isn't the place, either. They wish they could disconnect from their own feelings the way they used to. The numbness wasn't good, no. It only helped them make bad decisions. But it was better than having to deal with their guilt.

Maybe this is why monsters were underground in the first place. Not to keep them away from humans, but to keep humans away from them. If a stupid little kid like Frisk could force them to the brink of extinction, then—

... No. That isn't fair for anyone. Not all humans are (like Frisk) bad.]

I...

[They sound pathetic. Really, really, really pathetic. There's no way to articulate why they killed Papyrus. No way they can justify killing him over and over and over again. Sans seems to have done a good enough job at putting it into words, so they nod. They're still not looking at him, but they hope he saw that. It's the most they can offer.

That, and—]

... I'm sorry.

[It's small. Quiet. They wouldn't be surprised if he didn't hear it at all, or if he pretends not to hear it. Sans doesn't strike them as the forgiving type, and honestly? Frisk hasn't done anything to earn that forgiveness.]

[Sans isn't a fan of sarcasm when it comes to comedy. It doesn't fit with the good-natured fun and wordplay that can be enjoyed by everybody.]

[The evidence is in the word itself. "Sarkasmos" is a word dated to thousands of years ago in Ancient Greece, part of a comic tradition based in parody and satire that didn't exactly take feelings into account. The word means to rip, to tear, to strip away someone's flesh and cut them to the bone.]

[He never liked sarcasm as a form of comedy because it works far too well as a weapon.]

[So when Frisk sniffles their apology, Sans steps forward, stopping just a little bit away. Close enough to make himself known, but far enough that he's not too intimidating.]

Aww gee, kiddo.

I'm so glad to hear you're sorry.

[He takes a couple of steps back and forth, circling Frisk like a shark sensing blood in the water.]

Because, you know, that's gonna fix everything.

'Sorry' is totally going to change the fact that you killed my brother.

That's all you gotta do, right? Look cute, say you're sorry, and everyone's gonna forgive and forget aaalllll the horrific crap you pulled.

Must be nice.

...

Get the hell outta my face, you dirty brother killer.

Edited 2016-06-21 03:35 (UTC)

[They don't say a thing while Sans speaks. There's nothing they can't say. Nothing they can do. No way to react to it. Vertigo aside, they're eerily still as he lays it on them.

The familiarity of being called a "dirty brother killer" is... weird. Makes something cold settle into the pit of their stomach. It's not the first time they've felt like this.

Will it be the last?]

[...]

[It won't.]

For a comedian, you're really bad at coming up with new stuff to say.

[—And then they're clamping their mouth shut, their teeth audibly clicking together.

Familiarity is bad because it makes it easy to slip into old habits. Old thoughts. Old feelings that didn't even feel real, didn't even feel like they belonged to them. But they were rattling around their skull all that time, and they've already marked their place inside them.

Stupid. They're really a terrible person. Why did Papyrus even waste his time with them? They don't know. They don't know anything. What a waste of time. They can't even pretend to be a good person.

They clench their fists. Dig their nails hard enough into the palm of their hands that it's painful. And they reach out to their last SAVE, willing themselves to LOAD it. A second later, they've LOADED themselves to wherever the heck they last SAVED.

Bye, Sans.]

Edited 2016-06-21 05:23 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( open. )

II-B

boy i die..............shit boy

how i had die over some macnuggets

1/? this tag is coming from beyond the grave

2/3

3/3 there we go goodbye i am gone

goodbye my lover, goodbye my friend

hours later im still laughing over mom's spaghtti

it's better than crying yourself to death!!!

this tag is coming from beyond the grave

1/? STOP DYING SO WE CAN FIX THIS LATER

no subject

no subject

DONE

1/? we need to stop doing this to ourselves

no subject

no subject

DONE au revoir world