02 ❆

[needlebearer]

Who: Arya and OPEN
Where: The corridors of the mansion, then Arya's room
When: March 8
Rating: G, will update if needed
Summary: Arya disposes of too many swords, then chills in her blanket fort
The Story:

a) Corridors

It's far more likely that Arya will be heard before she's seen; a metallic clank echoes down the hallways announcing her presence. She walks slowly, trying not to overbalance, her arms bundled full of swords of all different shapes and sizes. She's clearly struggling with the weight of them but keeps going nonetheless, looking down at them as though irritated with their presence, and looking more than a little daunted with the prospect of having to drag them downstairs, though what she's ultimately going to do with them she's not sure.


b) Arya's Room

She keeps her door open today, proud of her handiwork and wanting to show it off. Her communications device is next to her, discarded in disinterest, and she's sat cross legged in the middle of the pile of blankets, turning over a coin in her hands, almost entranced by it, though she quickly shoves it into her pocket when she hears anyone approach, scared that it might be taken from her when she's only just got it back.

Comments

[needlebearer]

"Right. You don't know." It's so obvious to her, she doesn't understand how they can see it any other way. "If we got rid of them and then something bad happens, then what would we do? How do you know you won't need to protect yourself? Especially when we were kidnapped here to begin with."

[determinedest]

"You don't have to fight." Frisk opens their hands in a peaceful gesture. "I come from a world full of monsters trying to kill me, and I never did."

That's a lie. But from the latest timeline, it is true. They finally did everything right. Fought no one, killed no one, spared every encounter. It was possible.

[needlebearer]

"Then you've never lost anything worth fighting for. You're lucky." That or they're a fool, Arya thinks it could easily be either.

[determinedest]

"Try the SOULs of everyone I knew." They didn't need a Dagger for that. They couldn't even use it. "I didn't need to FIGHT to free them."

[needlebearer]

"You can't lose their souls," Arya says quietly, philosophically. "That's theirs to keep or lose. If there's even such a thing at all."

[determinedest]

"Maybe in your world," says Frisk with a slightly prim twist to their voice, as if they're some kind of authority on the matter, "but not in mine. Anyone's SOUL can be twisted to any end if someone's determined enough."

[needlebearer]

"Well that sounds stupid." She's annoyed with herself that she doesn't have a better response, but they're right, all worlds seem to operate by completely different rules to her own, and she doesn't really know how things work on such a grand scale in her own world anyway. "But I'm sorry," she adds quietly. "No one should have that burden." And their way of dealing with such a burden sounds far healthier than hers, not that she's going to admit that.

[determinedest]

Frisk...Frisk rolls their eyes. She doesn't know the importance of SOULs, but how could she? They're not likely to change her mind based on explanation alone.

"Just...be careful, all right? Not everyone here is out to get you, you know."

[needlebearer]

"I know." It's a strange feeling, knowing she has to look over her shoulder all the time, that she can sleep soundly in a bed of her own without worrying that her meagre possessions will be stolen in the night. One good thing about this place, at least, was that she really did feel like they were all in this together. "But you be careful, too. Just because not everyone is out to get you, doesn't mean that not anyone is."

[determinedest]

"I know that too," Frisk says a little glumly, because Chara is still...a problem. They're a person, they mentally correct themselves, but they're also kind of a problem. That's no one's fault. It just is.

"I'd just make sure no one gets their hands on those," they say finally, indicating Arya's pile of swords with an inclination of their head, then starts edging back to make their escape exit. Talking to people for a long time is exhausting.