in demon days, it's cold inside [closed]

[determinedest]

Who: Team Gnope! aka Dipper, Mabel, Chara, and Frisk; and then later some others
Where: The Deep Roads
When: 5/5 - 5/??
Rating: PG for fantasy violence likely; the latter threads have some disease and body horror and delirium, and some emotional distress. Also cw for eventual child death.
Summary: Four kids on a quest! Adventure! Suspense! Treasure! ...horrible painful death? More starters below, and just let me know if you want in on this!
The Story:

Maybe staying on the surface would be considered a more life-prolonging choice, but Frisk misses the Underground, absurdly enough, and the dark tunnels reaching ever deeper reminds them of Waterfall and the crystalline quality of the walls and sparkling rocks embedded in the ceiling.

But this time, they're not heading in alone. The three other human children accompanying them are neither fallen nor nameless, but they're all of them friends in their own right. Chara's even been doing all right since the last event, helping keep Frisk safe and cheering them up unprompted. It feels less like "keeping an eye on them" and more like "a group of friends exploring together".

Fingers crossed that this feeling lasts.

Comments

GOOD TIMES

[krmvgivv]

[Dipper has a large backpack on. He's carrying two more. Mabel already got hers. He grins, holding them up.]

Okay, I got rope, sleeping bags, rations, a lighter, flint in case there's some sort of anti-technology field, a flashlight, candles in case of the same thing, emergency kindling, water bottles, extra socks, and a pack of cards. Just in case.

[He sets them down and stands up, looking smug.] I've been preparing for this day my whole life. A real dungeon crawl! It's gonna be so great.

[fulllifeconsequences]

...You packed for us.

[Not that Chara looks all that prepared. The ridiculously cutesy cupcake backpack the last event gave them is on their back, instead of anything actually built for dangerous spelunking. Sure, they could have asked the closet for something more fitting, but they actually kind of like the inappropriate absurdity of it. But, wowie, here it is! A fully-stocked For Realsies backpack, with everything a kid needs to survive a subterranean labyrinth.

This is the most Dipper thing that Chara has ever seen. Now they know what the kind of person who would climb Mt. Ebbot for a happy reason looks like.]

See, Frisk? Smart kids keep their inventory well-stocked. And... everyone else's apparently.

[determinedest]

[Chara looks faintly absurd with that backpack but it's not like Frisk, they of the "Old Tutu" and "Manly Bandana" has a lot of room to complain. They do have to labor to bite back a grin, however.]

I did come well-stocked! See?

[They present the Worn Dagger to all children attendance, proudly. And, even better, they dig from their pockets a couple stale croissants from one of the tea rooms.

...all right, so maybe Dipper had the better idea here.]

[powerofmabel]

[Mabel has been standing behind Dipper this whole time, adjusting the straps on her own backpack and making faces behind her brother's back to tease him for his overzealous enthusiasm. when he first proposed this, she'd been hesitant, if only because of Chara, but even her own issues with the other kid can't keep her away from an adventure, and when Frisk is there, Chara usually behaves.

and, more importantly, she really does need to get over all those lingering Chara issues. holding a grudge is so not like her, so for all that bad blood that never really got resolved or dealt with beyond whatever Dipper has been talking to Chara about on his own time, Mabel seems to be in a borderline sunny mood.]

He's gonna make us a fire with a bunch of rocks, too. [she adds, laying a hand on Dipper's shoulder.]

[krmvgivv]

It's a flint, Mabel. It's a very specific kind of rock.

[He doesn't mind Mabel hiding behind him, though he does... worry. Normally Mabel's the trusting one and he's the paranoid one. The fact that Mabel has so many misgivings about Chara makes Dipper nervous, though it's not like he trusts them. Far from it. He just maintains that there is no better solution than treating them like a normal kid, and besides, the murder-happiness could come in handy if they come across something extra bad.

Still, he's all for staying subtly between Mabel and Chara. Just in case.]

Aaand this is why I packed for you. Don't worry, there's room for the croissants too. Probably.

[fulllifeconsequences]

...Right.

[They see Dipper between them and Mabel, and they know why, but they choose not to acknowledge it in the least. She's not interesting like Dipper or Frisk are. She's the one who saw fit to pick a brawl in the first place, and if she's the one who wants to continue to cringe around? She can suit herself.

Chara has more important things to do. Like examine this Oh So Superior pack of Dipper's, gauge their options, then... forcefully cram the entire cupcake into it. Any bag is a Bag of Holding if you're determined enough.]

Seems we're all prepared, then.

[And, one foot squashing the backpack into submission, they point, first to themselves, then to Frisk, Dipper, and Mabel, applying a label in turn.]

DPS and tank simultaneously. Frisk: support. Dipper: scout, or ranger, or whatever the guy who can navigate is. Mabel... redundant, honestly.

[Oh! But speaking of support! They glance over at Frisk sharply.]

Ah. You should SAVE. I'm going to be on the frontlines, so it'd be riskier if I was the one doing it.

[determinedest]

[Well! This is a nice and tension-filled little discussion they're having. Frisk wishes they knew a thing about defusing tensions between other people, but honestly, it's not like Chara has a suit of overheated armor and Dipper has an unspoken crush on them (probably??), so that's about where their expertise ends.

So they do what comes naturally to them: put on a great big delighted smile, bouncing on the balls of their feet happily.]

Thanks!

[Dipper deserves thanks for thinking ahead, and they hope it's clear that the thanks is coming from both of them, not just Frisk. Chara's just too cool to admit that they're grateful, or whatever. They look over to Chara a little disbelievingly.]

We're exploring, not playing a game of capture the flag. And Mabel's not redundant, she's - she's our support girl-slash-imagineer-slash-star!

[powerofmabel]

And I have a grappling hook! [Mabel protests, because she has no idea what half those things Chara said even mean, but she'll argue her own usefulness until her last breath, rather than get caught up in feeling bad about it. There are many things she can feel bad about, but how good she is in a team is not one of them.]

Besides, you can have two fighters. [she assumes that's what Chara's words meant. context clues!!!]

[krmvgivv]

You've literally felt how hard she hits. Are you seriously questioning why she's here?

[Dipper scowls, bumping his shoulder against Mabels'.]

And anyway, we're adventuring, not creating a task force. We're here because we're friends. Not because we fill certain roles.

[What a good point to end on, moral highground, making it clear that everyone's equal, a good time not to go on and add anything-- nope, he's going on.]

Which is good for you guys, since Mabel and I are a pretty perfect team on our own. [He holds up a fist to be bumped.] Exploring creepy things is what we do.

[fulllifeconsequences]

[Chara just laughs. One word. One single word is all it takes to ruffle feathers. Golly, what a fun adventure this is going to be! They're gonna be stuck together for... how long do these events usually last? Days, at the very least.]

Colour me mistaken! You be whatever you want, Mabel. Follow your dreams.

[As patronizing as it gets. Be the star-slash-imagineer, sweetie. You're special.]

We'll be the redundant ones, then, since you've already got your perfect team. But we aren't friends, you know.

[They announce it casually, finishing stuffing a backpack into a backpack and neatly zipping the whole affair up.]

All sorted? We've got a lot of ground to cover ahead, don't we?

[determinedest]

We're exploring a mysterious cavern in a group of four. I think that makes us friends, whether we like it or not.

[Frisk is going to try their hardest to be the Reasonably Diplomatic Voice here, and get everyone to get along and be utterly appreciative of one another! This adventure might be a great way to mend tensions!

In fact, they go ahead and throw an arm companionably around Chara's shoulders - a maneuver they would never have attempted prior to the last event, but since then, they think they've bonded.]

BAD TIMES; hit me if you want in on this (also tw: for disease and body horror and bad thoughts)

[determinedest]

The dark splotches creeping over their skin look like bruises, and maybe they would be if they weren't so certain it'd have to be - it'd have to be something else, wouldn't it? They'd fallen, skinned their knees, landed in a blackish puddle, trying to talk to the monsters, just so they could see if there was anything capable of reason in there, and it had all just...

...

They can't stop shivering.

There's a voice hum-droning away in their mind, but it's not like Asgore's gentle pleas for them to stay determined. It's something else. It's like chanting, or praying, a warped, broken orison murmuring for horrible things in a language they can't understand or perhaps don't want to understand, and it makes them twist and turn and clap their hands to their ears and scrunch their eyes shut and wish, wish, wish it would go away. But it doesn't. It keeps clanging on and on, and their breath is hot and thick like it would be if they were feverish, cheeks damp with tear tracks because it hurts and they hate that it hurts, hands gripping at the fabric of their striped shirt, wet with their own sweat, as if that would be enough to hold them together or tear them apart, they don't know which. They don't care which. They just want it to stop hurting oh god please, please, they don't know what's happening to them and it scares them, they can't SAVE, they can't LOAD, they can't do anything and it's choked them up and they don't want to move but they don't want to be like this, you called out for help, but nobody came, nobody ever comes, why would anyone come, just help, help, help help help help help.

They're turning into something. Something else? Or something...else?

No, wrong time. Wrong moment. Wrong SOUL, suspended in red, splintering and quaking and fragmenting into a thousand pieces again and again because you're such a little failure, keep dying little human, you're worth more dead than alive anyway. Stupid c̃ͦor̢͋̍̈ͯ̓r͏u̢͐̿p͒̿͑t͗̾͂ͮͨͬ̀e͝d̨ͧ̓ͥ thing that you are, dying, imperfect, what good's a SOUL like that, anyway? At this rate it'll be black and empty, like you. Like you.

Frisk tosses, and Frisk turns. The rock of the hollowed-out mountain passage is hard under their back. Have they moved? Did someone move them? Where are their friends? Where are they? Did nobody come again? Nobody wants them. Nobody wants Frisk. They say it's too much responsibility, they leave them at the bus stop and say they'll be right back and never come back again, and at this point they don't know if they're Frisk anymore.

* Name the fallen human, says Asriel, spewing hatred at them with vines and stars.

* Name the fallen human, says Toriel, blocking the way for their own good.

* Name the fallen human, says Sans, left eye glowing as he throws them down again.

* Name the fallen human, says Papyrus, on bended knee with arms outstretched in a treacherous hug.

* Name the fallen human, says Undyne, hurling spear after spear through their broken body.

* Name the fallen human, says Alphys, singeing them to dust with a wall of orange-and-blue lasers.

* Name the fallen human, says Asgore, head bowed in shame as he breaks their MERCY.

* Name the fallen human, says Chara, no, says Chara, twisting the word human into an awful snarl.
* Name the demon that comes.

Don't you understand, Frisk?

That demon is you.

OF COURSE I'M SLAMMING INTO THIS FRESH HELL

[fulllifeconsequences]

When one half of the anomaly can't continue, the other half steps in, steers. That's how it works. Chara's always picking up after the messes Frisk's dumb attempts at Mercy make, always stepping in to keep the idiot safe because nobody else will. Chara's the active half, not the passive one, the controlling one. This is just their role. It's what they do.

It's harder this time. Harder because it's not just one single body they're steering. Harder because they're carrying a limp human in a striped shirt, and somewhere in the back of their mind, they have to keep scratching a reminder that this isn't their corpse, there's a SOUL in there, this body is still alive. There are dark splotches marring Frisk's skin instead of blistered lips and fingers. They still sweat and twist like they can still feel pain. And Chara's arms ache far too soon, because Chara isn't a juggernaut made of interwoven magic and determination. Just a human child. Or something resembling one, anyway.

They need to stop and rest. Just for a bit. Only a minute. They don't know if they can afford to waste time. They're not sure if they're really doing anything that will fix this. This... must have been how Toriel and Asgore felt, huh? A sickness they don't understand anything about. That they have no idea how to treat. But... back on the surface, there must be doctors. People who know about this. Something other than just... standing around and watching it.

They lay Frisk on the stone floor, hoping that at least the cool surface might bring their feverish body some relief. Sit next to them, try not to look worried. Because they aren't. Worried. Just... catching their breath. Just doggedly sticking to that dumb promise to try, but not... actually caring.

"Frisk. Are you still awake? Can you still hear?"

[determinedest]

Of course they can hear. They can hear too much, and all at once, like the Reaper Bird's words spilling into their ears and into their head as their heart thumped wildly like something trapped and fluttering. Their skin itches wildly, and they wish they could rip it all off, claw themselves to ribbons with their own fingers, because this awful prickling, tingling, scratching, burning, creeping thing that's wormed its way under their skin is too much to bear.

They're being laid still again. They open their eyes and see a reflection - no, not a reflection, a mirror - no, not a mirror.

Chara.

Same thing, right?

Ha-ha.

Frisk's tongue darts out, trying to wet parched, cracked lips to no avail. Their throat aches. Water. They need water. They need something before whatever's in them hollows them out. Assuming they weren't hollowed out prior to now.

That was another joke.

Ha-ha.

"'M tired," they mumble, barely, slurring the words.

There's drums in their skull, vibrating the ground they're lying on. Wait. No. That's wrong. That's misplaced. Not drums. Footsteps?

Someone's getting closer.

[krmvgivv]

Dipper kneels down, pulling out a water bottle and some tylenol. "This should... help with the fever." For all the good that'll do. This is a little past the usefulness of his first-aid kit. He digs through his bag desperately. "And... uh... are they cold? Or... hot? Both? I have ice packs and hand warmers."

How can he have prepared so much and not have anything for this? What would even help with this?

And what will Chara do if they can't fix Frisk?

Dipper swallows down that thought and tells himself the answer is not something insane and pushes the water bottle and tylenol at Chara.

"I'm sorry, I can't... I can't do more."

[fulllifeconsequences]

The tight, hasty syllable they mumble at Dipper might have been a "thanks," but surely not. Chara wouldn't thank anyone for anything. They don't seem to be paying much attention to anyone but Frisk. "Ice pack," they demand. "They're sweating like crazy."

Chara picks Frisk up again; not completely lifting them up, this time, only propping them upright against Chara's knees. One arm keeping them up, the other first going for the Tylenol. Something that'd be easier to do, maybe, with an extra set of hands, but Dipper's wise to just hand the supplies off to Chara. Who knows how contagious this sickness is?

"I know you're tired. You can rest," they mumble to Frisk. "Pills. Don't choke." Terse instructions, but who knows how easy words are to pick apart with a fever like this? Simpler, the better. The water bottle lifted to their lips next ought to be easy to recognize in and of itself. "Drink."

But Dipper's right. It's not enough, is it? This won't really help. They turn their head away from Frisk, as if that'll be enough to for them to not take in the next thing they say. "I can't do more either." A worried admission. ...I mean, not a worried one. Just an admission. Who cares? This isn't really a problem. Frisk is the only one this hurts! "Just. Keep an eye out? See how phone reception is?" They don't cry out for help. It's pointless to cry out for help. But. But this isn't something that they can fix alone, is it? AT or DF don't mean a single thing against sickness. They help even less than Dipper's first aid kit.

All they have is... is what their parents taught them, huh? They bow their head, curling around Frisk in a way that would maybe almost be protective if. You know. If Chara wasn't Chara. Use their sleeve to wipe away the tear-tracks on Frisk's face, to try and clear the sweat plastering their bangs to their face. "You... you're going to be alright. Our... our fate rests with you?"

Does it? There's no barrier. They can survive this event even if Frisk isn't there. But... of course Frisk is necessary. Of course everyone's counting on Frisk. Of course Frisk needs to recover from this. No other option. "I could take the Dagger off your body if you die," they whisper. "I could take your SOUL." Couldn't they? "Aren't you the only one holding me back, Frisk? Isn't keeping me on a leash your responsibility? If you die, I..."

They're laughing again. A quiet, breathless giggle, like they're just whispering a fun little joke. "If you die, then what will I do?"

[determinedest]

* You think about why you're here.

Because the world is a cruel, sadistic place, and all the MERCY in the world won't SAVE you from dying like how you are now. They open their eyes, stare at the spidery brown silhouettes of their hands and the patchwork of awful bruise-black spots beneath the skin, and there's a voice in their head that's trying to be Asgore, urging them on, that's trying to be the Fallen Child, telling them that if they die they doom everyone, and they're right, humanity is rotten, rotten to the core, to the CORE, just like you, because you're rotting away from the inside.

Water droplets being coaxed through parched lips. Pills, fed to them like buttercups, and that's hilarious, they almost hack it up with the dry hiccuping cough-laugh that makes them gag and swallow reflexively and the pills slide down.

Useless. Won't help. They're sorry. They told Sans they'd think about what they'd done. Gained love. Gained LOVE. They're sorry. They're sorry.

Guilt, again. Creeping up in their chest, again. Your breathing gets funny for a moment. Their breathing? Our breathing? We're scared - you're scared. What's happening to them you us?

Not us. Not anymore. We're separate now, Frisk. Stop putting words in our mouth, Frisk. Stop lying there like a lump, Frisk.

This is what happens when people like you take it easy.

HAI FRANS

[everyonecanbekind]

Papyrus aches.

It's a strange feeling, aching. The normally pristine smoothness of his bones has been covered in dark, ugly splotches, and it gives him extreme worry. What could he do? Panic? Rub the splotches away? Relief is found by using the wall as a sort of stationary crutch. His fingertips are numb from gripping the wall so tightly where it could even be gripped. His vision swirls, as if he's being dragged through a dark, monochrome kaleidoscope. Papyrus' leg stops moving for a moment.

Something taps at his leg.

A new friend in the form of a large and friendly spider shuffles beside him closely. The spider had been tapping his bones gently whenever Papyrus ceased movement, even if it was only for a second. He wonders if the creature knows what's happening. Papyrus is sure that the spider would start crawling on him if he fell-- it's encouragement enough to keep walking, however slowly he's going.

A fight had broken out with some horribly unpleasant creatures and Papyrus had taken a hit against the back of his arm. The dull throb that the small cut radiated was ignored easily at first-- he could hide it under his scarf. It's nothing to the Great Papyrus. Nothing to worry about and nothing to be worried about by others; that is, until it started to spread like wildfire, coating Papyrus' bones with colorful bruises. Each bruise had feeling-- had so much feeling, that he could barely feel anything besides the pain that radiated from them.

Voices echo in his ears-- a darkness that he cannot understand roams freely through his mind and infects him, no, plagues him in it's incessant banter. Occasionally, he'll vocalize his attempts to create silence by softly begging the voices to stop. It works for a few moments before they return in spiteful anger, which makes his whole body erupt into painful vibrations. His hands are numb from holding his arms, as if Papyrus is trying to keep all his sickness inside. Keep everything inside, and don't let them see.

The tall skeleton is perplexed, and annoyed, and angry, and...scared. The magic holding his bones together faulters when he walks too fast, causing his bones to shift out of place, and when you blink he's all put back together again. It takes an extraordinary amount of effort to keep himself together and moving forward. Papyrus feels heavy and weak, and almost desperate for some sort of release from this physical nightmare.

While he had tried to hide any signs of fatigue in the early stages of the taint taking control of him, Papyrus has since allowed his fatigue to show. His hands shake like leaves. He can only hold himself up tall for so long, and he could barely summon a bone without the rest of his body giving him an uncertain, violent tremble. Don't lose hope. Papyrus takes another shaky step forward.

He knows, somewhere, deep down, that this is no one's fault. It is no one's fault. A whisper crosses through his mind. You should find no one and give 'em hell. He'd make a fuss about the awful joke, if he could remember how to.

Voices speak from around the corner-- Chara's voice stands out, however quiet it may have been. It's difficult to pick the other voices outside of the little ones in his head. If you die, then what will I do?

He stops, falling to the ground. It's too much.

It's too much. Is it? Is it too much? He's strong-- Papyrus is strong. So strong-- he's just got to pick himself up and keep moving. There's just not enough time to be lazy, and there'll be plenty of time to rest when he's out of these caves and in the sun. He's got to show his room off to his spider friend. He's got to make some celebration spaghetti and make friends, and keep his pun-loving brother out of trouble, and...

...and it's cold. It's cold and dark, and the sun isn't here.

But the sun is out there-- and he just needs to keep moving to get to it. It's there. It's there. Don't lose hope. Everything will be alright. Everything's okay.

The ugly marks on his bones stretch to his spinal cord possessively, claiming him further. Those voices and their loud hissing sounds penetrate his core.

Papyrus sits on his knees, leaning against the wall. He just needs to rest. Not for too long.

Just needs to catch his breath, is all.

nothing is okay

[punful]

It has been a very long time since Papyrus was small enough for Sans to carry. Sans remembers it so well. Someone handed him a tiny bundle of bones wrapped tight in a blanket. Someone said, "This is Papyrus." Someone said, "You're a big brother now, Sans."

It had felt so weird at the time. This tiny little thing in his arms. Sans had been sure he was going to break him.

Papyrus grew like a weed, and it wasn't long before all Sans could do was give him piggyback rides, and soon even that ended. Soon Papyrus was taller than him. Soon he didn't need to be carried anymore. Sans had found himself missing it.

He can't carry his brother anymore. Can't even hold him upright. Too small, too weak, too tired after days of exploring and fighting. Papyrus drags himself along the wall and Sans clings to his side, trying to hold him up and failing. Papyrus falls down and Sans goes with him, because all he can do at this point is hold on.

Papyrus is falling down. In the literal sense. And in the monster sense.

And Sans can't even hold him up.

"easy, easy." He crouches with Papyrus, holding him tightly, fingers curling into fabric. "it's okay, bro, i've got you. i'm here. just. rest a bit. we must be almost there."

He has no idea where they are. He hasn't been paying attention. Should have been paying attention. Why the hell wasn't he paying attention? For all he knows, they're lost. He has no idea how far the tunnel exit is from here, or if they're even going in the right direction.

"someone up there can help you. just gotta stick it out till then, right?"

Sans believes that. Actually does believe that. Someone up there can fix this. No one bothered to warn anyone, no one bothered to post to the network to warn against these tunnels, no one bothered to tell people what kind of monstrosities lived down here. Monsters aren't even supposed to get sick. This was supposed to...

"Supposed to" doesn't matter. All that matters is getting Papyrus out of here. Getting him help. Before...

He looks over his shoulder at Alphys.

"thought i heard voices up ahead. can you check? might be able to help us."

hey kids how bout that D E A T H Z O N E

[sciencelizard]

She's scared. It's a joke, Alphys thinks to herself, that she's scared, because she's always terrified in some manner, but this is worse than she could've imagined. Human or otherworldly diseases were still completely foreign to monsters, and when Alphys had agreed to trail Papyrus into these ruins, it was to keep an eye on him. Make sure he didn't get hurt.

Well, she never was that kind of doctor, anyway.

She's tried to get Papyrus to accept being carried by the newest member of their party, a stone statue come to life, the control rod tucked in Alphys' coat pocket, but Papyrus insisted on walking ahead himself. She knows it's because he doesn't want them to worry, doesn't want them to coddle him, but that's not going to stop any of them from freaking out, especially from the more... physical effects. Being forced to watch someone die is harrowing. Being forced to watch someone deteriorate, Alphys decides, is far worse.

She doesn't fall when Papyrus does, when Sans kneels right after, hovers behind with her claws skittering gently on the stone, watching over their shoulder and burning off as much nervous energy as she can with her hands, wringing them together quietly as not to draw attention to herself. She almost jumps when Sans speaks, but nods in response, eager to find help and moreso to do something useful.

"Y-Yeah. I'll be right back." Her eyes dart back to Papyrus and then forward again, the golem plodding after her methodically in contrast to her uneven footsteps. She wheels around the corner, takes a few steps, adjusts her glasses and--

Oh no. Oh no.

Frisk's head in Chara's lap, Dipper kneeling nearby, but Frisk's condition is unmistakable, even from a distance, because she's seen it in Papyrus. Not Frisk. Not Frisk too. She's stuck at the corner for a few seconds, gripping at her own sleeves, stuck between if she should go forward to them or back, and decides to inform the other group first-- she's pretty sure she could move a few kids easier than she could budge Sans and Papyrus for any reason at all. So she approaches, faster than she normally would in any direction that includes Chara, but maybe they have something that can help. By the time she gets there, she's pretty much out of words to say, but she has explain this and fast, so she fumbles a few times before forming a coherent sentence.

"Hey, I, uh, w-we, I mean Sans and-- it's the stuff from those monsters, r-right?" She gestures towards Frisk, but tries not to look for too long, because the idea of Frisk dying hurts her worse than anything she can think of. "It's-- the same thing, with P-Papyrus. Have you found anything-- I mean, he fell, do you h-have any way of, uhm, fixing this, or--" She points towards the golem behind her. "He's, uh, b-been following, and can c-carry a lot, so Frisk d-doesn't have to walk, but we don't know what t-to do." She's trying to think of something more coherent to say, but her thoughts are scattered and jumpy, and right now it's probably just best to get everyone together as best she can.

HOORAY FOR AGONY

[fulllifeconsequences]

Alphys is the literal exact opposite of a threat, but she comes charging in with this eight-foot hulk and starts babbling rapidly, and Chara clutches Frisk to their chest like at any moment Alphys might pull out a bazooka or try to yank Frisk away from them completely.

They don't expect anything rational or helpful from an anxious mess like Alphys, but all the same, this is spectacularly useless. It takes a moment to even parse. There's not a single "how is Frisk's condition" or "are you okay" in all that. Of course monsters don't know the first thing about dealing with illness, but nonetheless it's the first thing that strikes Chara. Something goes wrong, and instead of asking how they can help or how Frisk is feeling, they all just... immediately start asking the actual literal children for solutions.

"Frisk feels great, thanks for asking," Chara snaps bitterly. "They're still awake, but barely." They can hear. Is it a relief to hear their friends' names, or are the pleas for a way to fix it, for someone to show them what to do... are those all that reaches them? Either way, Chara scowls, ducks their head again. Only looking at Frisk, not Alphys.

"I'll carry them. Always have." They have no intention of letting go just yet, even if the golem is probably sturdier and less likely to get infected. Maybe slightly because passing Frisk off means not getting infected. "Dipper... you explain." He can be the one to admit how helpless they are. He can be the one who makes sense of... all the rest of that babble. Sans and Papyrus are... here? Somewhere? Papyrus has the weird fever too? He doesn't even have skin to get all blotchy, though, right?

all of you should be ashamed

[krmvgivv]

Dipper grabs the ice pack and slams a fist down on it to start the chemical reaction that'll make it cold. He hands it over to Chara, touching their shoulder briefly before turning towards Alphys with tired eyes, lips pressed into a thin line.

"There was a fight. We won. But the monsters... I think it's a zombie-style effect? Or a poison. Possibly passed through their fluids"

He eyes Chara warily, since it has occurred to him that Frisk might be contagious and Chara holding them so tightly might not be a good idea. But he doesn't try to convince them to let Frisk go. Not right now. Not when they're so distressed about it. And if a part of him is noting that it would be... convenient if Chara got sick too, he ignores that part. Chara might go on a murder spree if Frisk dies, but you can't punish someone for something that hasn't happened. Even in your head.

"So... Papyrus is sick too?" He thinks that's what Alphys is saying. "I'm sorry, I have... I have Tylenol and ice packs and water but I don't know if they're even helping with symptoms and I'm not sure how they'll work on monsters."

meanwhile in the neighboring suffertown...

[everyonecanbekind]

Easy, easy.

Sans' voice flushes out some of the hissing static-like noise, though most of the words escape Papyrus. Hearing anything outside of the quiet echoes in his mind is a blessing. When everything feels like it's falling apart, he hears Sans voice and brings his leg back up to start walking again. It's okay-- it's okay. It's okay.

someone up-- an --tta stick --- en--? He looks at Sans and smiles a very small, determined smile. He'd make it. He'd make it through, and they'd be wrapped in the warmth of the sun, and surely that would make the pain stop. Perhaps the closets would be kind enough to give them sea tea-- even though Papyrus hated the taste of it. It had always helped when he was feeling a little under the weather. The memory is hazily recalled.

The yellow blur walking with them; Dr. Alphys. She runs ahead and Papyrus thinks for an instant that Sans might follow her. There's no hiding the mark of the taint on the tall skeleton. His hand falls onto Sans' shoulder and he holds the shoulder of his brother tightly, trying to steady himself. Just stay calm.

Suddenly, things don't feel fine, again. His bones rattle viciously, as if they're trying to come undone. Why is everything crumbling? What do the splotches mean? Why does everything hurt?

Why does everything hurt?

"...hurts..."

It's the first word he's uttered in a long while, since he started leaning on Sans at the very least. When they exit his mouth, his eyes shut tightly and he hangs his head-- it burns-- it burns. it burns. The vibrations against his thrown from his own voice make him feel like he's on fire. He can't make it stop. It starts to spread to his shoulders and ribcage, and the hand holding the wall is touching his chest instead, holding onto his scarf like a life line. The pain is unbearable. Like burning and freezing at the same time. Like melting and being trapped in a cube of ice.

It comes in waves, he thinks to himself over the noisiness of his mind. His hand tightens, but not uncomfortably so, on Sans.

It comes in waves.

why are we so mean

[punful]

Papyrus keeps moving, despite everything.

"easy, bro. don't push yourself."

Stupid thing to say. Papyrus is always pushing himself. He never stops, almost never even slows down. Always rushing. Too fast for Sans to keep up. But that's how things should be. That's Papyrus for you.

"remember that time you got lost in waterfall? and you sat for hours just chatting with echo flowers. and i nearly had a heart attack trying to find you, heh. you said you weren't scared but when i finally found you you stuck to me like a moldsmal and didn't let go."

He doubts Papyrus remembers. He's not even sure if Papyrus can hear him right now. He's talking just to hear himself talk. Selfish, even when he doesn't want to be. Stupid.

Something feels like it breaks in his chest when Papyrus speaks for the first time in what must be hours.

"i know, bro. i know it hurts. just a little further, okay? we're gonna get you fixed right up."

He can fake it, at least. Fake optimism. Fake positivity.

The voices up ahead are clearer now. It sounds like the kids. Dipper, Mabel, Frisk. Chara. Of course. He thinks he hears them say that Frisk is sick too.

Of course.

i think it's because we care, probably...maybe.

[everyonecanbekind]

Darkness covers his vision. Everything hurts-- everything hurts so badly. His bones feel like they might shatter if he stops focusing on them. he wonders if relaxing would make everything hurt less.

Sans is speaking, and Papyrus wishes that the words made sense. It frightens him more when Sans' voice mingles with the strange, foreign voices leaking into his subconscious. He focuses intently on the words, using them as a distraction from the illness that took him by storm.

And he remembers. The voices stop for a glorious moment as the memory pours in. He remembers talking with those echo flowers about Sans. And what a cool brother he had. He remembers the affirmation of dozens of little blue flowers, telling him that Sans 'is definitely the coolest brother ever!!' And...

...and missing him. Missing Sans. Wondering if his brother even knew he was gone in the first place. When Sans found him, Papyrus remembers the warm embrace, the gentle brotherly scolding. Papyrus remembers telling his brother not to worry-- and that he definitely wasn't scared, but he very clearly remembers being at least a little scared.

His legs go numb and he spares them a glance. Covered in the blotches. He's almost grateful to the strange numbness that has overtaken them-- they look like they would be in a considerable state of pain if he could feel them at all. Or perhaps he's in so much pain that his soul refuses to acknowledge further agony.

The voices jump back, whispering in their secret language, causing Papyrus to shut his eyes tightly again. Papyrus doesn't even have enough time to register the lack of feeling in his legs when the hissing becomes louder than ever.

just a little further, okay?

The wave of pain sweeps him, and he groans quietly, as quietly as he can manage. His magic pulses weakly through the ground.

The large spider moves around in a worried circle in front of Papyrus. Even the new spider friend is worried.

That's great.