entrancelogs | merry christmas; i could care less [ open ]

Entry tags:

merry christmas; i could care less [ open ]

Who: Real Tim, Mirror Tim + YOU / Real Frisk, Mirror Frisk + YOU
Where: All the heck over my guys
When: 12/13 - 12/20
Rating: PG to start with, will edit for anything higher
Summary:
The Story:

[Just kidding starters are in the comments.]

[Let me know if you want something closed cooked up special, etc., or hit me over at

arrpee. I will match prose or brackets!]

Threaded | Flat

He knows better than to just pick up stuff lying around in Wonderland. Honestly, he does. He remembers the way things played out during Halloween of last year, all right? People were scarfing down candy and getting turned into ghosts, and it just wasn't a real good time for anybody.

So how it is that he ended up taking a bite of one of the cookies lying in baskets is beyond him, frankly. One minute he was walking past, staunchly telling himself that he wouldn't be going anywhere near the thing, and the next minute there's a bird-shaped cookie with white icing on the floor and his shoulderblades are itching with a fierceness that has him almost doubled over.

The problem with doorways, and just about everything in the mansion, Tim is learning, is that they're not really constructed to fit to people who have spontaneously sprouted wings. And not just any wings, either, no.

Immense, plumy, gray-white turtledove wings.

The appendages are just unwieldy enough to make just about every singular task a trial unto itself. They flop this way and that, fluff and flutter and need to be folded back, make it harder to get around him in the hallways, knock over anything that might be unfortunate enough to be perched on tables and flat surfaces, and just generally make an absolute nuisance of themselves. When he finally manages to work his way to the roof and breathe a sigh of relief that he's no longer in danger of impeding everyone else's day, he's confronted with the next problem - one with an obvious but terrifying solution, given the fact that he's yet to learn how to manage his new growths in any practical way.

How the hell does he get down?

Edited 2017-12-17 01:12 (UTC)

Myriad noises will start to work their way around doorways and down the halls at nearly any point in the day and at nearly any location within and without the mansion, all varied and most relatively amateur. Someone plucks at a banjo outside the library. Someone in the kitchen tinkers with an electronic keyboard. Someone on the roof smokes a cigarette as he noodles on a ukulele. While equipped with a certain degree of musical talent, Tim's never really sat down to learn anything in particular. Nothing aside from something of a pretty basic nature, that is.

That won't stop him from trying. Whatever he ate has him wanting to fill Wonderland with something that might make someone else smile, even for a little while.

He even sort of looks happy as he does it.

Edited 2017-12-17 01:12 (UTC)

It might not be completely evident that this isn't the Real Tim - after all, all sorts of people are smiling as though in high spirits, even the grumpiest of all Wonderland grumps. The Mirror in question still walks with a spring in his step that's very unlike Tim's usual slouch, chin up and shoulders back, his grin broad and his heart light.

Free rein of the Real side? A party to look forward to? A mansion fragrant with the wafting scent of gingerbread?

He has everything to gain from this, and he's of even better cheer than usual.

He knocks around Tim's ordinary haunts. He pulls an instrument or two from the closets. He smokes. He breathes in the warm scent of baking gingerbread.

...or maybe he breaks into your room and starts going through your things, all with a tremendous grin on his face.

Just because he's cheerful doesn't mean that he's good.

All told, they're going to call this Christmas an improvement over last year's.

Almost anything would be an improvement over last year. They spent that winter mostly alone but for the writing on the other side of the glass, and the whispers of someone searching for a Rabbit Hole to wind all their cares away. And the way through to the Mirrorside may be open, free of charge, but - Frisk seems staunchly uninterested in pursuing that route.

This year, they're going to bring some cheer.

Mostly, they do this in the form of trying to learn some new songs on the ukulele in time for the Winter Ball. One new song in particular, which they will then plan to use with deft aplomb to charm just about anyone.

There's more than one way to mash a * FLIRT button.

The Mirror, on the other hand, is considering this a significant downgrade from last year's festivities. They'd gotten full ride of their Real, every opportunity to twist them awry, and even that had failed in the end.

This year?

This year, they're four inches tall.

You might hear them before you see them, snarling words a bit filthier than should be standard for a twelve-year-old as they scale the gingerbreaded legs of tables, scramble atop chairs, and just generally dart about underfoot in an effort to not get stepped on. Or you might feel the odd sting at your ankles, much akin to stepping on a thorn or a nail, followed by a quiet snigger as the offending child streaks away with a miniature Worn Dagger in hand.

They might be tiny, but they're still going to do their best to make this holiday as unbearable for everyone else as it is for them.

In between the cookies and confectionaries, Tim picks his way through the sweeter-than-average mansion without much direction. Mostly he's looking for Jay, to deliver a rather unexpected gift that ended up on his doorstep some time ago. So he has a particularly fancy box in hand as he wanders along the sweet-scented halls, occasionally stopping to glance into one room or another.

He's not looking out for any Mirrors just yet. As far as he can tell, everyone's been on more or less good behavior. But either way, he needs to find Jay - and he needs to find George on top of everything else.

And so it is that he isn't particularly keeping an eye out for Seth, or any variations thereof.

So where the hell is Jay, anyway?

This isn't something you deliver to someone's doorstep with a cute note and a Christmas tag, no matter what the gift-giver - whose identity he sure as hell suspects, don't get him wrong, though some confirmation would be nice before he goes around thanking people for it, as well as chewing them out for selling their memories in equal measure - might have seen fit to do in the first place. This is gonna take some buildup, he knows, because for all of Jay's belated admissions that he maybe needs some help, that's one massive step that might not be without significant regression to the mean.

He needs to find Jay. The Real Jay.

It's high time he got his hands on something that might help him.

Threaded | Flat

REAL TIM ; ANIMAL CRACKER ; you owe me the best gift i will ever ask for

REAL TIM ; WINTER MELODY ; one awkward silence

MIRROR TIM ; FESTIVE CHEER ; and i'm of good cheer

REAL FRISK ; WINTER MELODY ; 'cause i've been checking my list