Frisk wasn't there. Frisk never heard those words. They never talked about that death with Frisk - deaths are irrelevant, and the bigger worry had been the danger Chara presented with the Knife in their hands.
Frisk can't know that. Only Chara. Only Chara.
So who is huddled on the ground in a mess of broken pixels, and who is holding onto a hand so hard they might be crushing it?
Sans had said something to it a second ago. Alphys asked something that needs answering. But - but words are gone. Everything retreats under a layer of static, a hollow ringing, the sound of airless hungry breaths and a racing heart because they don't feel real, nothing feels real, nothing they try to use to tie themself down is working. The memories that prove they're Chara, they're someone who existed - not theirs. That one's. Chara's, not "Chara's." Things only Chara remembers, unless - unless Chara remembers it wrong? Maybe Frisk was there. Maybe they don't remember right because the memory is secondhand. Is just - is something an invader uses to disguise itself as something that belongs in this world.
Something is being expected of it - no, is being expected of Chara. It's lost, the question has slipped out of these foreign flesh-and-blood fingers, but - but Chara will answer. It will stay quiet and let Chara answer. It wants to scream, just to prove it can make a noise and something will hear it, but it stays quiet. Wraps its other hand, too, around unwelcome bony fingers, digs its own nails into the back of its other hand in the gaps between metatarsals. Doesn't know how to be seen or heard, just claws and claws for an anchor.]
no subject
Frisk wasn't there. Frisk never heard those words. They never talked about that death with Frisk - deaths are irrelevant, and the bigger worry had been the danger Chara presented with the Knife in their hands.
Frisk can't know that. Only Chara. Only Chara.
So who is huddled on the ground in a mess of broken pixels, and who is holding onto a hand so hard they might be crushing it?
Sans had said something to it a second ago. Alphys asked something that needs answering. But - but words are gone. Everything retreats under a layer of static, a hollow ringing, the sound of airless hungry breaths and a racing heart because they don't feel real, nothing feels real, nothing they try to use to tie themself down is working. The memories that prove they're Chara, they're someone who existed - not theirs. That one's. Chara's, not "Chara's." Things only Chara remembers, unless - unless Chara remembers it wrong? Maybe Frisk was there. Maybe they don't remember right because the memory is secondhand. Is just - is something an invader uses to disguise itself as something that belongs in this world.
Something is being expected of it - no, is being expected of Chara. It's lost, the question has slipped out of these foreign flesh-and-blood fingers, but - but Chara will answer. It will stay quiet and let Chara answer. It wants to scream, just to prove it can make a noise and something will hear it, but it stays quiet. Wraps its other hand, too, around unwelcome bony fingers, digs its own nails into the back of its other hand in the gaps between metatarsals. Doesn't know how to be seen or heard, just claws and claws for an anchor.]