entrancelogs | because they took our LOVE and they filled it up [open]

Entry tags:

because they took our LOVE and they filled it up [open]

Who: Frisk and YOU
Where: All over Quor'toth
When: 12/2 - 12/5
Rating: PG-13 for suicide ideation, self-harm, and child endangerment THIS KID IS IN A ROUGH SPOT
Summary: After being empty and dull for almost a month, Frisk has begun to feel things again. Since feelings are dumb and sad and difficult and they want to continue feeling nothing, Frisk embarks on a quest for LOVE. Chaos ensues.
Story:

settlement; so don't stop, don't stop until your heart goes numb

The air is raw and arid, bright against their skin. The lack of moisture reminds them fleetingly of Hotland, but they press the association numbly aside. Numbly because - because they continue to feel nothing at all, don't they?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Frisk gathers sticks from the withered and stark black skeletons of trees so they can use them to reinforce the roofs and walls of the simple huts. They don't say much, not even to the resident monsters that seem friendly and amiable enough, and seem to appreciate the help. They tuck their chin low to their chest and work quietly, diligently, staying out of the way, always out of the way like they're meant to.

Every so often they break away from their work to scan the skyline, the bleak and bone-dry horizon, with an expression that's not so much disturbingly blank as it is almost contemplative.

acid river; i'm just a problem that doesn't want to be solved

[A small child crouches at the bank of a river. The river is not what you would call a typical one - it is, in fact, a frothing, bubbling current of acid that drifts sluggishly along. Frisk occasionally drops a stick or a leaf within and then watches the fluid eat into its defenseless victim. Their features are blank. Their face is empty.

Frisk unwinds the bandages from around their one hand. And then, slowly, almost curiously - they skim the surface of the liquid with the tip of a finger.

They watch the skin blister and redden impassively. It doesn't feel like anything.

Then they reach forward to dip their finger into the acid again.]

* flee; i said one day the valley's gonna swallow me whole

The further out Frisk wanders, the more they begin to glimpse things that defy common explanation. Something that looks like the malformed product of a badger and a great scaly lizard-beast. Things with tentacles, things with too many teeth, things that should inspire thrills of terror in the pit of their chest. Mostly, however, Frisk feels that, if they were still Frisk, they'd be trying to wiggle their hips and ask all the monsters if those claws were natural.

But they're not really still Frisk anymore. They're just a hollowed-out SOUL of a human with nothing but a vague sense that, upon being faced with a horned ram-thing with a string of pinkish intestines trailing from its jaws, its fur soaked crimson, they are better suited to run.

And run they do. They aren't very fast, nor is their heart truly in it. The thing bounding after them will soon catch them. That's not enough to get them to run any faster.

* fight; i am your worst, i am your worst nightmare

[It's while Frisk is scrambling over charcoal-streaked hills and weaving around copses of shriveled-looking trees that something occurs to them, a sparking idea. There's still something shivering in their SOUL, the scabbed-over remnant of a sense of remorse or regret that won't go away. And then, as they gaze out over the twisted landscape, their eyes alight with the closest thing to life than they have in almost a month.

They reach over to one of the trees and snap a stick off. Actually, they snap off several sturdy, thick boughs. A round rock lets them sharpen the tips, muscle memory from their time in Neverland lending a studious ease to the movements.

They rebandage their slightly burned hands and set off with their makeshift spears until they come across something that hisses and chitters and resembles a spiky, oversized beetle.

Without hesitation, Frisk brings their first stake down in a swift arc, severing one of its segmented legs from its body. It bellows at them with a shrill wail and rears up, clearly ready to impale them on the spot.

Frisk braces themself for the FIGHT. If they kill it, the LOVE will bubble into them and fill their SOUL with the hollowness they miss, the emptiness they crave. If it kills them -

Well, it feels like sleep anyway.

wildcard; in the truly gruesome do we trust

[Got a prompt and an idea? Hit me up at arrpee or with a PM! I'll match prose or brackets, no problem!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[This feeling is uncomfortably natural. Not just the fighting, but the feeling that fighting is all he's there to do. It doesn't matter how many links he forges - even if they're permanent, they stretch too far. His main purpose was to fight because he was the most powerful.

That sentiment will change soon. All of these feelings are a revolving door just like the masks inside of himself are. He's never the same person for long. But maybe... Maybe in this place he's getting close to that real core of himself. Maybe he can see it for the first time, and see that, just like he expected, there's nothing at all to see.

For better or worse, the instinct to fight is tied closely to the instinct to protect, especially those he knows, those he has those links with. The chain binding him to Frisk isn't completely forged, but it's strong enough in his soul that he moves forward without thinking to summon Izanagi and drop his most powerful fire spell on the beetle-thing Frisk is fighting.

He doesn't care if he's cutting in on something that's none of his business, and it doesn't occur to him that his help isn't welcome. Everyone wants his help with one thing or another. This can't be any different.]

Edited 2016-12-03 20:17 (UTC)

[Everyone seems intent on stealing away the LOVE Frisk craves, needs for themself. A blast of something fiery scorches across their vision in a lateral blaze, singeing the tips of their hair and causing Frisk to leap back out of reflex. The thing shrieks as the flames char its exterior, writhing to escape the inferno.

Frisk turns to stare at the source of the intrusion. They remember him. Souji.

Maybe they once had a sense of - affection for him, but right now they have the continued luxury of feeling nothing, and they'll hold onto it for as long as they can. It's not so difficult to inject a note of accusation in their tone. They even mean it, they think, the tiniest bit.]

What are you doing?

You need help.

[His tone is matter of fact. Unspoken is that it's his help that's important. Frisk needs him, because everyone who's in trouble does.

That knowledge doesn't make him feel good. If anything, there's a sense of loss and resignation and exhaustion underlying it. There has to be someone else who can take care of everyone's problems. Or, even better, people should take care of their own.]

I don't need anything.

[He's stealing their EXP. Stealing the LOVE they want so badly to cradle to their SOUL, to cushion the ache of loss and longing that won't leave them be. They stand back, and watch the thing burn absently. They'll have to look elsewhere. Again.]

Not from anyone.

You weren't going to manage it on your own.

[He resists the urge to step closer. Maybe for once he doesn't need to be close. It might be worth it to quash that part of him that needs to draw people in close and bind them to him. It was easier without them.]

Did you want to be hurt?

[They keep moving back, away from him and the carnage that remains. Their face is - empty. Still empty and blank and bereft. If there's a pinprick of anything in their chest, it's annoyance.

Did they want to be hurt? Ha ha. Good question.]

Doesn't matter. [Doesn't matter, because they apparently can't even handle one demon, let alone a child that smiles and pretends to be one.]

[He can't help it. He starts to follow them as they back away, his longer legs eating slowly at the distance between them. He doesn't go too fast, doesn't want them to run. What kind of hero is he if people run from him?]

It matters.

[He made them his new Strength link. He doesn't think they're supposed to be like this. If they aren't, if something's wrong, he had to know what it is. If the link reverses...

He can't let the link reverse. If his links break then who is he?]

[Everyone's got to follow them. Everyone's got to make sure they're not doing anything foolish, anything untoward. That wouldn't be acceptable. That would be such a shame.

He catches up to them easily. Frisk hunches their shoulders and dips their head, hair veiling their face partially from his view.]

Why? Why's it matter to you?

[Why?

Why?

He comes up empty. He's used to empty, but not when it comes to words. He has to have something to say to keep them close to him.]

We're friends.

[That's the easiest answer. It's such a cop out, even he can barely keep himself from cringing when he says it. But it's true, isn't it?]

[We're friends. Right. The adult says so, so that just has to be how it is. They have to remember that. They have to remember to be...to let it happen. They don't feel. They can't feel. None of it matters, and none of it will.]

You won't let me get any LOVE.

No one will.

Love?

[He doesn't know what they're talking about and can only guess based on the homonym he does know.]

Can't I give it to you?

[That's what protagonists do, isn't it? They give everything to everyone else.]

Level of Violence.

[They could...how much would he be worth, they can't help but wonder? They're not sure how hard it would be, though, to beat him. They've been stripped of their determination, their means to SAVE, and he's human too - full of determination, probably more than they.

It'd be a hopeless endeavor.]

That's what LOVE is.

[Level of violence. LOVE.

Love.

He wonders if there isn't a link between them. He fights for the things he loves, and fighting is by its nature violent. So he can give love by giving LOVE can't he?]

Does it work if I don't fight back?

[Is he...offering?

Frisk eyes him carefully, almost warily, uncertain. Why would he offer that? He shouldn't be. Everyone's been telling them that it's wrong, that they're acting wrong, and they know they are, but - but it'll hurt less, in the long run.

Better this way.]

Only works if I kill you.

Do you want to kill me?

[Protagonists died for other people. Souji knew one who'd died to save the entire world. He could at least die for one person, especially here, where death meant nothing.]

[Yes, they almost say. But they bite their lip. Because they're not - supposed to want anything. And they don't. They don't.

They look away, across the unfamiliar landscape, scarred with the twisting stumps of withered trees.]

I don't want anything.

[There's an inherent contradiction there. Souji tilts his head, peering at them, momentarily distracted from his own thoughts.]

You want LOVE.

[They're not making a lot of sense, are they? No. They're denying their own words all over again, and they'd be frustrated but they - they don't get frustrated anymore. So they don't look back at him at all.]

Humans are harder to kill than monsters.

[Yeah. That's a good justification. Something rational and reasonable and rooted in logic, not any sort of - of emotional grounding.]

That's not related.

[Souji can push them. He helps other people grow. That's how he grows himself.]

You were killing that. [He gestures at the hell beetle thing.] Because you want to get something out of it.

Maybe it attacked me first.

[Like all the monsters did Underground. No shame in protecting yourself, right? Just defending yourself from all the cruel and dangerous things that want to take your SOUL. There's no harm in it.]

Maybe I was just defending myself.

[Souji doesn't think so, but he holds back his words to the contrary. He's not Frisk's parent or even their older sibling. He's always thought of Frisk as an equal, so why is he acting so patronizing now?

Why is he acting like this?

He swallows and looks at the charred remains of the beetle thing.]

Do you still get what you want if I fight with you?

You'll win.

[They keep looking away. That's just the blunt truth of it. They can only win through trial and error, mostly error, and without the power of their own missing determination on their side? They're lesser than even the feeblest of children.

They have nothing. No drive. No means to succeed.]

I mean if I fight alongside you. If you and I fight monsters together.

[He could have left Frisk to their own devices, but he worries. He recognizes that as a true emotion of his, not something forced on him by the mask he associates with Frisk.]

Because I'm too weak to do it myself?

[No one seems to trust that they can. Either that, or they seem to insist that Frisk must not really want this. That they're just confused, or broken, or plain wrong.

So maybe they are wrong. They have been for a month now. That's not really about to change.]

Because you're my friend.

[Because he worries. Genuinely worries, he thinks, and not just worries because it's what's expected of him in his role.]

Fight

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