Ha. Red eyes, open and resolute. A voice with the spreading sharpness of an asterisk, like its words have the power to make things reality. Directness that borders on defiance. Would the Frisk who woke up in Wonderland two years ago look on this and recognize it? Would they see Frisk, or would this rattle them like a red voice Chara pretends they can't use? Somehow, in the span of just one day, that bed felt entirely too small for them now. Maybe growth sneaks up on you. (Asterisk-you.)
"Golly, I hope this doesn't turn out to be unhealthy," they answer, with that wry little self-deprecating smile that lets the world know they're in on the joke. "I suppose if Halloween made one thing clear, then it was that you're never truly going to be separate from the vengeful ghost rattling around in your head." It, apparently, can still peel their fragile identity away at any moment. It can still scribble their name out. It can take the brown from their eyes and leave a vile stain behind in its place. "Best friends forever, with emphasis on the forever part, no?" Inseparable in the sort of sense you wouldn't really expect people to be.
"...You really were over it, though, weren't you? You were getting better." The hard lesson they'd taken from this obstacle had already been figured out. They'd come to terms with the idea they didn't need to be perfect, that mistakes just sort of happen sometimes and it's nobody's fault. It hadn't splintered their identity. But then... not being there must be easier than being in two places at once? Hm, no, that's not a very funny observation at all. Can't get a punchline from that. Doesn't really lend itself to jokes the way a doomed friendship does.
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"Golly, I hope this doesn't turn out to be unhealthy," they answer, with that wry little self-deprecating smile that lets the world know they're in on the joke. "I suppose if Halloween made one thing clear, then it was that you're never truly going to be separate from the vengeful ghost rattling around in your head." It, apparently, can still peel their fragile identity away at any moment. It can still scribble their name out. It can take the brown from their eyes and leave a vile stain behind in its place. "Best friends forever, with emphasis on the forever part, no?" Inseparable in the sort of sense you wouldn't really expect people to be.
"...You really were over it, though, weren't you? You were getting better." The hard lesson they'd taken from this obstacle had already been figured out. They'd come to terms with the idea they didn't need to be perfect, that mistakes just sort of happen sometimes and it's nobody's fault. It hadn't splintered their identity. But then... not being there must be easier than being in two places at once? Hm, no, that's not a very funny observation at all. Can't get a punchline from that. Doesn't really lend itself to jokes the way a doomed friendship does.