Chara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fulllifeconsequences) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2017-05-15 05:46 pm
fulllifeconsequences) wrote in entrancelogs2017-05-15 05:46 pm
[OPEN] this ONE WEIRD TRICK to losing your will to live
Who: Chara, Mirror Chara, anyone
Where: Mirrorside tearooms, the gardens
When: 5/15 - 5/20
Rating: PG for potential dissociation/unreality, references to suicide
Summary: It's funny when the mirror is more sure its real than you are, isn't it?
The Story:
[A - Real side, among the flowers]
Frisk isn't here.
It's a realization that pulls all the breath out of them, and it feels like they never quite inhale again. Like without their other half, they're nothing but a ghost, a held breath wandering without meaning. They know that death on the other side is... it's different. It's for real. They also know that Frisk was willing, once, to cooperate with their mirror. To find a way to the other side. They know that if Frisk isn't on this side, if they've gone somewhere Chara can't follow, that - that nothing is holding them back now. That the solemn oath to follow Frisk if death takes them means nothing if Chara can't reach them. That if Frisk was willing to trust in and protect their mirror once, Chara can never be sure that they won't do it again. That they won't resist that temptation.
They know they have no control over what happens next.
They know they might never see Frisk again.
Chara sits in the gardens, not knowing anywhere else to go. No mirror crossing over, nobody to lead them to the Rabbit Hole. So all they do is... they just sit among the flowers. Breathe. Try not to think too hard about what the last thing they may have ever said to Frisk would be - it certainly wasn't "goodbye" or "I love you" or anything poetic and real. Try not to fixate on seeing if this is the moment they forget, if some kind of omniscient force is going to purge their memory despite all their safeguards, all their determination to always remember.
Try to focus on what they can do, at least.
For now, that's nothing more than ripping petals off of flowers one by one, counting over and over and over.
[B - Mirrorside, time for tea - replies coming fromundetermined]
To tell the truth, the mirror... they sort of wish they'd been brave enough to cross over. To give everyone on the real side, the happy side, to - to give them a chance to see. To realize that they could have a better Chara, one who's nice, one who's never irrational, one who only has kind things to say about them. To maybe... they know it's impossible, but they still - it's nice to dream. To fantasize about escape. About slipping into another world where people want you around, where you're never useless or stupid or in the way, where you're useful. If they crossed over, then they'd surely meet people who'd be their friend. Who'd want to keep them. Who'd know that maybe this Chara was just born on the wrong side, and everyone would be happier if they could live on the side where nice people live, and the bad one can live on the mean side.
But they aren't brave enough. They know they'd never have the guts to hunt anyone down. They know they'd never have the nerve it takes to steal or vandalize or harm.
So they just... ha ha, they settle for what they get. They can still be useful here. There are some reals stranded here, after all, and they must be scared. Must be feeling helpless and lost. They could all, Chara's sure, use a friend right about now. So Chara... they can be that friend. They rove from one tearoom to the next, carrying a basket of snacks and first aid kits, doing their best to be the kind of person who answers a call for help. Someone out there must need them. Someone must want them, surely.
They just have to look hard enough.
Where: Mirrorside tearooms, the gardens
When: 5/15 - 5/20
Rating: PG for potential dissociation/unreality, references to suicide
Summary: It's funny when the mirror is more sure its real than you are, isn't it?
The Story:
[A - Real side, among the flowers]
Frisk isn't here.
It's a realization that pulls all the breath out of them, and it feels like they never quite inhale again. Like without their other half, they're nothing but a ghost, a held breath wandering without meaning. They know that death on the other side is... it's different. It's for real. They also know that Frisk was willing, once, to cooperate with their mirror. To find a way to the other side. They know that if Frisk isn't on this side, if they've gone somewhere Chara can't follow, that - that nothing is holding them back now. That the solemn oath to follow Frisk if death takes them means nothing if Chara can't reach them. That if Frisk was willing to trust in and protect their mirror once, Chara can never be sure that they won't do it again. That they won't resist that temptation.
They know they have no control over what happens next.
They know they might never see Frisk again.
Chara sits in the gardens, not knowing anywhere else to go. No mirror crossing over, nobody to lead them to the Rabbit Hole. So all they do is... they just sit among the flowers. Breathe. Try not to think too hard about what the last thing they may have ever said to Frisk would be - it certainly wasn't "goodbye" or "I love you" or anything poetic and real. Try not to fixate on seeing if this is the moment they forget, if some kind of omniscient force is going to purge their memory despite all their safeguards, all their determination to always remember.
Try to focus on what they can do, at least.
For now, that's nothing more than ripping petals off of flowers one by one, counting over and over and over.
[B - Mirrorside, time for tea - replies coming from
undetermined]To tell the truth, the mirror... they sort of wish they'd been brave enough to cross over. To give everyone on the real side, the happy side, to - to give them a chance to see. To realize that they could have a better Chara, one who's nice, one who's never irrational, one who only has kind things to say about them. To maybe... they know it's impossible, but they still - it's nice to dream. To fantasize about escape. About slipping into another world where people want you around, where you're never useless or stupid or in the way, where you're useful. If they crossed over, then they'd surely meet people who'd be their friend. Who'd want to keep them. Who'd know that maybe this Chara was just born on the wrong side, and everyone would be happier if they could live on the side where nice people live, and the bad one can live on the mean side.
But they aren't brave enough. They know they'd never have the guts to hunt anyone down. They know they'd never have the nerve it takes to steal or vandalize or harm.
So they just... ha ha, they settle for what they get. They can still be useful here. There are some reals stranded here, after all, and they must be scared. Must be feeling helpless and lost. They could all, Chara's sure, use a friend right about now. So Chara... they can be that friend. They rove from one tearoom to the next, carrying a basket of snacks and first aid kits, doing their best to be the kind of person who answers a call for help. Someone out there must need them. Someone must want them, surely.
They just have to look hard enough.
no subject
Really, they're probably curious as to what makes her so weak.
"Since choices have consequences." It's a simple answer, and she leans back on the bench, crossing her arms. "And since I've made some bad ones. Don't wanna toe that line again. It's not complicated."
no subject
Ha. Their favourite word.
They don't have a lot of delusions about war. It's... not really like what monsters say it is, is it? There isn't a side that did absolutely nothing wrong, and didn't take down a single member of the bad guys' side. There's no such thing as a blameless war, even if you're the hero of the story.
Toriel says she loves Shepard and not Asgore because she only did the right kind of killing. She never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it or couldn't fight back.
Is that true, they wonder? This mirror is vague enough that they can't really tell if her choices diverged from the real one's, if that's even the sort of consequences that she means.
They opt not to push. "Why are your eyes red?" They ask instead, because that, too, seizes their attention. Because they want to know. Never heard of a red-eyed human, unless they were possessed by a demon. Unless they were hellspawn themselves. Unless there was something unnatural or wrong about them that made their eyes do that.
no subject
"They're cybernetics. Tech." They glow, very subtly, like the rest of the cracks and scars that run through her face, painting a picture of a fracture that was never meant to be repaired. "Real has 'em too. Hers just healed over better. Cleaner work."
The Real Shepard had two years and a team of trained hands to put her back together. This Shepard never quite died, never had the precision-- well, it never really happened that way anyway, didn't it? She's fake. She knows it. It makes the delusions less depressing, quells the fake whispers in the back of her mind for overlords that she never truly met, despite losing her life to their service.
"It's not really the same as hers anyway. But they're lights. It's meant to look... intimidating, I guess."