entrancelogs | 'cause you make the darkness less dark [open]

Entry tags:

'cause you make the darkness less dark [open]

Who: Frisk and soulja boy tell em YOUUUUUUU
Where: Tartarus, mostly the Adamah block
When: 10/7 - 10/9
Rating: PG - PG-13 for A Violence, maybe higher?
Summary: Determined child faces monsters more at 11
The Story:

adamah block; hellhounds; there are too many armies with no one to FIGHT

Strange, terrifying buildings full of strange, terrifying creatures are far from the worst thing Wonderland has offered to them. Having been roused in the middle of the night certainly did not help, but at least they aren't wearing the simple, pretty striped pajamas they favored in summer - such light garments would offer little protection against whatever lingers here. Rather, they currently wear something a little more inspired. The yellow of the cloth even matches the energy of the shield they bear, a disk of shimmering golden light that protrudes from its metal handle.

They're looking for someone. Several someones. Those that may need protection in a FIGHT, from someone who has learned long ago how best to perform the right sequence events for a Spare. From a child that has learned that there isn't always a right sequence, but there is always a way to not kill, and not be killed.

Which is why they keep walking. The growls and snarls begin to snuffle at their heels, and they start and they stop and they hesitate as they glance at the pawprints dimpling the dust, left by an invisible pursuer.

Then, incredibly...the child's chin lifts, and they offer the phantom dog a small smile. Lift their shield and waggle it like a stick.

You may want to stop them before they end up hurling the only weapon they have on hand.

yabbashah; djinn; you make the edges less sharp

[Their smile is soft and serene, and the lines of the frown that usually dimples their features…bereft. The edges of their mouth can lift without the cost of the guilt tallied up in their SOUL, and the paper-thin veneer of that contentment doesn't bubble away at the slightest of sounds.]

[Perhaps because it isn't really there.]

[It's not clear what they're seeing, but...]

[They look happy.]

[And so does the Djinn, looking ready to work the tip of a needle into the flesh of their neck.]

anywhere; there are too many problems and no one cares

[Are you in a spot of trouble? Run up against a creature you can't FIGHT? Frisk has learned that these monsters do not respond to the plea of * Spare, of MERCY, but that does not mean they'll let someone else hurt over it. Their shield extends with a snapping burst of bright golden energy as they skid out across the stone, the felt yellow tail of their kigu whipping with an unintentional flare that's almost dramatic.]

[Perhaps you did not ask for a child to be your savior - a child clad in a banana-yellow kigurumi, bearing a shield that is too gold for one such as them, for someone who can only muster an inch of Justice when their SOUL truly depends on it.]

[But like it or not, they're here now.]

[And they're going to get you out.]

wildcard; there are so many mountains that i haven't explored

[Got an idea for a prompt? Hit me up yo. Feel free to PM me or ping me over at arrpee if you like! I will match brackets or prose, though I'll warn that the djinn prompt has a likelihood of involving severe emotional distress in the form of Frisk's fantasy.]

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[He's been getting through the tower. Maybe not well, all in all, but he's been getting through. This section of the tower has its own series of horrifying creatures and he's mostly avoided all of them, sticking behind walls and hiding in corners or behind outcroppings whenever they pass. There's not much out here that would entice him to ACT.

Nothing short of seeing one of his greatest friends being hurt.

When he spots the Djinn and sees Frisk he moves, throwing himself from out of his hiding place into the open.]

Frisk!

[He initiates an encounter, lobbing some bolts of electricity at the beast in an attempt to stop it in its tracks before it does whatever the hell it wants to do to them.]

[The child doesn't move. If his words are loud enough to breach their fantasy, they don't show it. The Djinn, on the other hand, glances up at the encroaching threat with a glower. Blue energy hisses from its fingertips with a menacing crackle as it rights itself, advancing slowly upon the robot.]

[It's clear that the threat doesn't have any blood worth feeding upon. So the Djinn need not devote its energy to ensnaring it as well. A bright bolt of electricity clips it across the shoulder, and the smoking scent of burning flesh tickles its nostrils.]

[It grumbles, low and gravelly, and prepares to reach for Mettaton to deal to him the same blow that rendered Frisk inert.]

[They don't move. There's a feeling of panic at that, of seeing a child usually so full of life completely inert, but soon Mettaton's attention is locked back onto the Djinn as it turns towards him, reaching out with a foreign and hostile magic that makes Mettaton's sensors prickle with an unsettled feeling.

Well. With legs like these, who needs enemies? Specifically, enemies who think they can withstand these gams striking at them at a rapid rate. Perhaps he can lower the creature's HP enough where it will flee and he can hopefully do something to help Frisk. Whatever happens however, he can't let that thing put that needle into their neck. He doesn't know what it would do but it's easy to deduce it's nothing good.]

[Whatever the Djinn was anticipating, it was certainly not that. The sheer unpredictability of being struck at by what seems to be a very potent robotic kickboxer is enough to send it reeling back several paces, and soon enough it has its hands lifted to try and shield its head from the worst of the blows raining upon it.]

[Frisk stirs on the stone, their hair fanning out across the dark tile. Something slips out between their lips - a mumble that sounds something like "Mom."]

[The Djinn tries for one final push - one final, rumbling roar as it lunges in a desperate attempt to ensnare its prey despite the avalanche of blows.]

[There's something vaguely satisfying about attacking something and seeing it actually recoil from your power. Mettaton is not the strongest Monster in the Underground, not by a long shot, but it's good to know that he can pack a good punch. Or a good kick, in this case.

Mettaton's attention becomes fixed on Frisk in a flash hearing that small mumble of "Mom" and he hesitates for just a moment- and the Djinn lurches forward, desperate to grab its prey and Mettaton releases another series of attacks, a hail of Monster bullets slamming into it. He's afraid to use his bombs; it might be too close quarters to Frisk and hurt them.

No matter what though, he will not let this creature get its fill from Frisk.]

[Sure enough, they’re waking. Slow and stumbling and drowsy, but they’re stirring, dark eyes slitting open to take ina host of indistinct shapes and blurring flares of motion. The rush of magic billets. The grunt and cry of some beast in pain, maybe?]

[What’s happening?]

[...]

[In an instant, everything connects, and Frisk sits Nike upright with a gasp, like someone drowning breaking the surface of water. A ragged, frantic whisper spills out between hissing intakes of breath.]

Don’t let it touch you.

Frisk!

[It's a joyful cry. The mounting fear at their lack of movement begins to dissipate and Mettaton returns to his attacks with vigor, shoving the Djinn back as far as he can.]

Darling, if you can, get up and get moving! We need to get out of here!

[If he's lucky he can hold off this beast and maybe get an opportunity to high tail it once Frisk is safe.]

[ He’s going to get himself hurt. If he does, then - ]

[They won’t let it come to that. Not now. They’re already struggling to throw aside the soporific remnants of whatever the djinn did to them, slipping across the tiled stone in an effort to stand up straight. Get ready to run. Get ready to get him out of here. And don’t let anything remind you of what you’ve seen - ]

[They shouldn’t grab. But they still draw a desperate breath.]

Please. We have to go.

[We have to go, they say, as if there is any question that he won't leave. Of course he will leave, just as soon as Frisk is gone-

Wait. If they can run together, isn't that better? What is this weird hero nonsense he's thinking? He nods. They may not be inclined to grab but Mettaton jumps back from the Djinn, reaches for their hand and clutches it tight as he tries to hasten their exit.]

You're absolutely right, darling! We can't miss our cue.

[Exit, pursued by a Djinn.]

[He holds onto them. It's reassuringly stable enough for them to lean against him for balance, to let him guide them away from the thing as it reaches for them. They're murmuring a long string of garbled words as they go, frantic, as if they're barely aware that they're saying them at all.]

Don't let it touch you don't let it touch you don't let it touch

[And they keep running. They're not very good at it when they're this uncoordinated, but - they're trying. They're trying their hardest.]

[After a bit of running, when it's clear that they've lost track of the Djinn, Mettaton slows down. He may be a robot with a battery, but humans get fatigued, don't they? He looks to them, hears their murmuring and squeezes their hand again.]

Frisk? Darling? It's all right. It won't touch you again, I promise.

[He bites his lip, unsure of what else to do. He fully stops, looking around to make sure there aren't any more creatures around, and kneels down to their level.]

Are you ok? Do you need something?

[He doesn't have any healing magic. Damn. Maybe they can find Toriel somewhere in this mess? He knows the monster hates him, but she wouldn't be cruel enough not to help a child in distress, right?]

[The urge to apologize swells up on their tongue in a sickening coil. It aches with a steady beat, like their heart in their chest as it slows. He’s still speaking, frantic, concerned questions that feel unearned. Are they hurt? They can’t say. They just feel...dizzy, disoriented. Yanked clear from something that burned with such a sense of longing that it hurt. ]

I don’t know. [Start with...something easy. Start with what you can tell without question.]

[Are you hurt?]

It didn’t hurt me.

[Mettaton frowns, looking them over again. He doesn't see anything physical but...]

Are you sure? You were... you were comatose.

[He doesn't want to say how can you not be hurt? but it's what he's thinking right now.]

It didn't electrocute you or anything?

It was going to. But it didn't. It just put me to sleep.

[Short sentences, clipped words. That's...is this normal for them? It should be, shouldn't it? They're laconic. They don't say much. It's okay if they're a little bit staggered, a little bit breathless, a little bit unnerved. It's okay. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, especially because they've lost it and it isn't behind them anymore.]

I'm awake now. [He already knew that, didn't he? Wasn't that obvious? Why can't they say something right?]

[Their words are short which isn't terribly unusual but there's something about the way they say it that makes Mettaton's soul clench.]

I know you're awake.

[That just further worries him and further reminds him that he's not really qualified for whatever it is that Frisk needs. Well... he knows that if he goes back to walking with them, he can get them to safety. They don't even have to talk. He knows that Frisk won't say much. He doesn't have to deal with this.

But they need someone. They need someone to be here and care and not just take care of their physical safety but mental too. He tries to quell his uneasy soul.]

Frisk... you can tell me what happened. It's all right.

I'm not supposed to think about it anymore.

[That wasn't their fault. Was it? Or was that just...are they just trying to escape consequences again? Just trying to shrug aside what they should face, that some subconscious desire they haven't shut off entirely is leading them down the siren call of a Rabbit Hole they're not meant to think about?]

[That's a familiar taste in their mouth: sour and lead and cotton, thick and muzzy.]

[It's guilt.]

Not supposed to...?

[Yup. He's out of his depth. Well, it's not as if that has stopped him before! (Unfortunately.)]

Sometimes things stick around in our minds. It's nothing to be ashamed of; it just is.

[He listens again for any sign of someone or something else being nearby. When he hears nothing he re-focuses on Frisk.]

Darling, you don't need to be worried. I care about you. No matter what you saw, I still will care about you.

But I broke my promise.

[They broke a lot of promises. In fact, the integrity of their word is completely moot, given how poor they are at upholding it. So they broke a promise. They break lots of promises. What else is new?]

[Nothing, really.]

I’m supposed to be better.

[He sighs sadly, reaching out slowly to brush some hair out of their face.]

It's all right, sweetheart. No one can be... perfect.

[He chuckles a little at himself. It sounds weird for him to be saying that. But if there is one person here who understands breaking promises, it's Mettaton.]

What promise did you break?

I thought about...

[No. They didn't think about it. They dreamed it. It was in their head. In their world. Everyone was happy, everyone was smiling, and everyone was on the Surface, and Frisk - ]

[They were free.]

A world where everything was exactly the same. Everyone was happy. They made it to the Surface. Even Chara. Even Asriel.

[The thought pulls at their lips, pinching the corners of their eyes in a motion both pleased and pained.]

Everyone.

[At first that honestly doesn't sound so bad. A perfect dream world. Who wouldn't want to imagine the best for everyone? It's not like Mettaton hasn't also had flights of fancy where somehow Chara makes it back with them from Wonderland and they get to live out their life on the Surface surrounded by the monsters that love them.

But there's something about Frisk's distress, about their hesitation in speaking of this, that highlights a more dark and sinister sense to it all.]

...And where were you in this world, Frisk?

[He knows where he would put them in a perfect world. Safe in the arms of the monsters who love them, much like Chara, happy and whole and healed from the scars inflicted on them by those they now call family. They'd be exploring all the things that make their heart sing and fill their mind with wonder and able to navigate the big and scary world, coming home to light and laughter in a full house.

But he suspects that they may not agree with him.]

...

[It still feels like a betrayal. Subconscious or not, it was...]

[It was still an indulgence of something they aren't supposed to be thinking anymore. They're supposed to be better. Getting better. Making progress. Is this proof of it? Proof that, no matter how hard you try and try and try and try and try, you can't change what you are, at the very center of yourself?]

[Maybe you are just rotten.]

[Rotten to the CORE.]

I wasn't there at all.

[Their words strike like a knife to the ribs, like bullets shot from an empty gun. It hurts, it always hurts, to see the ones you love wish they were never here at all. The pain on his face can't be hidden, not right away, but he screws his face into one of sadness and not raw hurt. This isn't about him. It's about Frisk.

He pulls them into a tight hug and holds them close.]

Oh Frisk. Oh Frisk.

[There's no admonishment in his voice, no anger. Just heartbreak over someone so wonderful wanting nothing other than to be rid of themselves forever.]

I'm sorry.

[It ruptures out from the center of them before they can stop it, even if they're - they're not supposed to be sorry, they don't have to be sorry, people keep saying, but now that it's started how else are they supposed to stop? How are they supposed to just - just stop being sorry, when everything they say is the wrong thing?]

[What else are they supposed to say? What else are they supposed to do? There are arms around them, now, and they can't - ]

I'm s - I'm sorry.

[He holds them tight and wishes he could... what does he wish? That he could take their pain away? Even if it meant it would be his own? It's a feeling he's not used to experiencing. But it's strong and vibrant here and he knows that if the choice was in front of him he'd only hesitate for a second.]

It's all right darling. It'll be all right.

[He has no idea if it will be. But he knows that when he's felt at his worst that hearing those words, even if they were lies, was better than nothing.]

One day you won't end up feeling this way. It can get better.

[He wants it to get better for them so much.]

I'll do whatever I can to help you. You deserve that. There's no such thing as a perfect world without you. It's only good if you're still in it.

[He strokes their hair and wonders what he can do. There has to be more. There has to be.]

It's ok if you don't feel it now, sweetheart. One day you can though. Please try to believe that. Please.

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determinedest - 2018-03-11 20:24 (UTC) - Expand

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'cause you make the darkness less dark [open]

Yabbashah!

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ROBOTIC KICKBOXER I love it

:3

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