entrancelogs | black then white are all i see in my infancy [closed + open]

Entry tags:

black then white are all i see in my infancy [closed + open]

Who: Frisk and a few closed prompts + a few open ones!
Where: Alphys's lab, by the vendors, maybe more?
When: 11/01 - 11/08-ish (may be subject to change)
Rating: PG-13 for children in peril, suicide ideation, depressive mindset, and bad decisions
Summary: Shit happened. Someone give this cast an intervention.
The Story:

[A hot oil-slick of numbers running through their mind in a burning cacophony does not lend itself to anything but pain, bright and blazing. It cuts into their teeth and their tongue and the inside of their cheeks - or maybe that is simply them biting deep into the flesh in their mouth to taste the warm tang of it to remind themself that they are not simply numbers they are not simply numbers they are not simply numbers they are real.

It crests in a burgeoning wave. There is no tide there is no pattern there is no regularity there is no respite it simply is and it tears through them, every jerk and wrench of their body shuddering in its place like hot marks shearing them open.

They can taste blood.

Is it yours?

Or mine?

It does not matter.]

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...No, ma'am. You have not.

[At the very least, it will be a nice change of subject. Something a little more neutral than Chara's endless and inexhaustible supply of self-loathing. Toriel always did seem to be her happiest when she was teaching someone something, right?]

Please, explain it to me.

[Oh.

Their heart sinks.

Ha ha, nah, no it doesn't! That's fine, isn't it? That's what the Frisk on this side thinks, too. That's what Chara thinks. That's what every Chara thinks. Not like it's a huge shock, ha ha. Didn't they always know, in the bottom of their heart, that what the real Frisk gave to them was just pity? Thin tolerance bred of a sense of obligation?

It's refreshing, in fact, that they're being honest. It means they trust Chara, if they're being honest. This is a good thing! They're happy about this. They are. It's progress. It's good. Frisk would never hurt them on purpose! Not unless they'd done something to deserve it.]

* Yeah, I agree. It's funny, how we just GET each other so well!
* We really are great friends. =)

* And that's what counts, right? No matter what you are, I'll still like you! I'll never doubt you.
* We're the only ones who can understand each other, right? The only ones who know what it's like to be nobody at all.

I guess.

[Spoken without enthusiasm, just like everything else they've said. Are they friends? They suppose they must be. That's one thing Frisk always is. Friends with everyone. Polite and earnest and friendly. So they should...be nice. They are being nice, aren't they?

It's hard to tell. There's no way of reading tone over writing, really. Or if there is, they've lost the means to do so.]

Nothing feels like anything.

[Toriel nods, also somewhat grateful for the subject change, as she begins to explain.]

Magic can take many different forms, depending on the monster using them. Often, this has to do with the type of monster using it. Froggits can create frog or fly shaped bullets, or a Vegetoid might make ones shaped like vegetables... as I am sure you are aware, boss monsters are somewhat unique with their ability to create fire.

[She raises a hand, and creates a small plume of warm, gentle flame, flickering softly in her palm.]

Generally, most monsters tend to stick with their inherent magic- mostly because it is next to impossible to simply change. There is no way I know of to change how your magic looks through practice alone. You may be able to make more complicated or faster bullet patterns, but that is all.

The only way for magic to change, is for who the monster is as a person to change. Magic is an expression of the soul, and a reflection of your identity- and if you change your identity, then you may find that your magic has followed suit as well.

An obvious example would be that many monsters who've chosen to pursue combat and try to protect others may find that they have the ability to create new bullets. I've seen magical hammers, swords, and spears, that a monster certainly was not able to create before they chose to follow that path.

I've seen monsters who have fallen deeply in love make a show of sending patterns of heart-shaped bullets towards each other, or monsters who became obsessed with working out displaying magic modeled after their muscles. I have also seen monsters who are rather depressed and sad expressing their magic as tears.

Do you understand, my child?

[Should have done literally anything but FIGHT, Chara. FIGHT is never the answer. That's what bad people pick. Frisk knows it. Asriel knew it when all those villagers grabbed their rifles and baseball bats.

He looks up. They keep looking down. Make themselves smaller. Don't take up so much space, when they don't even have the right to be taking any space at all. Wrap their arms around their knees, try to press blunt useless nails through the fabric of their sweater. All this time and they still haven't gotten any better. They still haven't learned.]

Papyrus was wrong.

[Maybe they could try to deflect this with some stupid line about spaghetti or something. Pretend they don't know which line he means. But that would be pointless, wouldn't it? That would be a lie.]

Even when we never gained LOVE, I did not gain any love.

[Their presence was not seen, even by someone who had been looking for it. They were not the one all those monsters cared about. They weren't supposed to exist in a timeline where everyone was happy.]

I could not possibly have been the one showing MERCY. The - the flower. He...

[Sans knows who the flower is. Thanks, Frisk. Guess they don't need to bother hiding it.]

You are not the only one who got to play judge. In the timeline you remember, when everything was said and done...

[Do you think anyone can be a good person?]

"Chara wasn't exactly the greatest person. While... Frisk... you are the kind of friend I'd always wished I had."

That's what he said. That's all he had to say about me. I didn't become a good person. The closest to "good" I managed to be was just... pretending not to exist.

If I wanted everything to be okay... I had to let them go. I had to let Frisk be happy. I was the one last threat to everyone's happiness.

[A line they worry Frisk may have somehow found, may try to paint themself with as well, even if there was no possible way for Flowey to be referring to them. Just more proof of the poison lurking in Chara's influence, right?]

He knew this would happen. He saw it coming. And yet... I refused to let them go, Sans. I bought into... I didn't learn my lesson in the least. And now I have reduced everyone's happiness to ash.

[They thought something at LV 8 might actually deserve a happy ending? Hilarious. They lapped up all that stuff about maybe things being different, without even for a second considering that "different" did not mean "happier."]

It's too late by this point. It's already too late.

[It was too late the minute they were born. Their parents didn't want them - they ruined their mother and father's life when they came into this world. The Dreemurrs paid dearly for daring to let something corrosive and horrible into their home - so dearly, there's no recovering from the ruin Chara brought upon them. Frisk stood strong for so long, assuming - hoping - that the voice in their head would be gone for good with this ending, but Chara's insidious manipulations wore them down, tricked them into letting their guard down, and... ha.]

You don't need to back down. You were the one who was right. The surface was right about me. The flower was right about me. You were right about me.

If we were really friends, I never would have come back.

* Well, there's more to life than just feeling. You'll be fine. I believe in you.
* If nothing else... you can observe for a while, right? You can think things over objectively, free of guilt or bias.

* Maybe that will make it easier to acknowledge how much my real has wronged you.
* And how much safer you are when they aren't around.
* You don't even miss them at all, after all. And if you did, well, you've got me!
* I'll always be here to keep you company.

[Some part of them considers, again, that possibly they should protest to this. Fly to Chara's defense, somehow. Only Chara isn't here to care, and no one is here to care, and Frisk...doesn't care.

They want to lie down they think, maybe. Close their eyes for a little bit? Or maybe that's simply because there's nothing of substance for them to do besides shrug and respond to writing on a mirror. There's only things that occupy themself and things that don't, though right now this is something that...does, if only nominally.]

I guess I don't really care. Can't really care. Who's bad or good or guilty.

Doesn't matter.

...Monster magic is only malleable if the user changes.

[They saw the way Asriel's magic changed. Some of that may have been the influence of the SOULs he'd taken in - dance slippers, fried eggs, a firing revolver... none of them seemed very Asriel. But his magic as Flowey had been... very empty. Basic formless little bullets that said nothing about their wielder. Just... oblongs. Thorny vines. Human fingers, very human weapons like cartoonish nukes. Only a single hint of the fire magic he used to know.

With every SOUL in the Underground behind him... the flames came back, in the way Chara remembered. But everything else was quintessential Asriel. Stars. Rainbows. The ridiculously grandiose attacks he gave to his self-insert.]

Then... are you suggesting that if I were to change, perhaps my magic would not be so broken? If I were someone else, then it would take another shape...?

[Justice is gone too, huh? Not just Determination. This is... hm. Ha ha, they're a little hard to talk with when every response is a non-answer. Is this what it's like when people talk to Chara? No wonder people get so sick of them.]

* Oh.
* Yeah, ha ha, I agree. You're so right!

* I'm not... boring you, am I? I can leave you alone if this is annoying you more than it's helping.

No. It's okay.

[That's the automatic and polite thing to say, they know, because children are polite and quiet and they do as they are told. Don't make anyone do something they're not comfortable with. That's selfish. They might not be able to feel much of anything, but they think that maybe they've upset the Mirror?

It's hard to say.]

It's up to you.

* No, it really isn't. I'm trying to do whatever makes you feel better!

[They're never the one who makes decisions. They're not a Chara who - who steals away control from someone who would do something better with it!]

* I want to be with you for as long as I'm allowed to. I think you sort of stopped liking me after the last time we talked.
* Now you just keep the mirror smashed all the time.
* But not to guilt you or anything! I'm not manipulative like my Real is. If you want to be alone, you can be alone.
* I'm just saying that I like being with you.

[Did they stop liking them? They don't know, really. Maybe it was just their Mirror? Their Mirror might be laughing at them right now, actually. They don't...really care about that, it turns out. Utterly lukewarm toward the idea of most Mirrors, just as they are about most things.]

If you want. I don't prefer anything.

[They're just...incapable of it, they guess. Preference, choice - those are all things for people who have the resolve to determine their own fate.]

[This is one of the more civil conversations they have had lately, and it makes Mettaton feel sick. He shifts uncomfortably, though it is purely psychosomatic reaction rather than anything physical.]

I've been better. Mostly I have been worried about you.

[He regrets his honesty the moment it slips out, wishing he could wrench it back into his mouth. But he doesn't have the power to RESET and neither does Frisk, so they both sit trapped with whatever conversation choices they make.]

I see you are still learning how to play the ukulele. How has that been coming along?

You do not need to 'be someone else', Chara. As I said, Chara, that might be the problem.

Broken, wrong, and nothing... if you think these things about yourself, then... I suppose that it would only make sense that your magic would follow suit.

[It isn't something pleasant to acknowledge, and she... hates having to talk about it out loud. Her general response to Chara feeling like that is to just try and drown it out in positivity, after all.

Which of course, she's immediately going to do, as she takes a knee, reaching over to slowly rest her hands on Chara's shoulders.]

You are not any of those things though, Chara, even if you think you are. People care for you, and love you. And just because something goes wrong, that doesn't undo any of that.

If you can learn to love yourself as well, then I am sure that your magic will change to reflect that.

Edited 2016-11-16 18:50 (UTC)

It doesn't feel right.

[That's an honest answer, though it's...a little too frank for them, maybe? That might spook people out, if they say stuff like that. Stuff like how they don't feel anything, don't enjoy anything, don't touch anything.

They feel like maybe they should pick the instrument up out of a show of...something. Solidarity, maybe. But they don't. Can't? It would be a lie to pretend they were genuinely interested. It would require more effort than they think they have in them too.

So they don't.]

Doesn't feel like anything, I guess.

[They're... trying to be polite, aren't they. Trying to avoid saying "I never wanted you here" without outright lying. They're too nice to say no, right? So Chara has to read between the lines. Guess what they're really thinking. And... honestly, who wouldn't be thinking "get lost?"]

* I won't overstay my welcome, then.
* But if you ever want anything, just call. I'll be there for you.
* Or I can go find someone else you'd rather have around, if you want.
* I'll do my best to help you through this.

Okay.

[They're not sure what they really mean by "this." It's not as if it's exactly all that difficult. It's just not very anything. You can't fill up something with nothing.

So that's all they'll be. Nothing.

But they remember their manners. Good children should always have manners.]

Thank you.

[This is breaking her heart. God. God, please let her not have broken them.

She studies the readout, and takes out her communicator, punching in some notes.]

Yeah. It's, uh... it's quiet.

[She smiles, just slightly, at what seems to be an uptick in the readings. But she won't have conclusive evidence for a while. Any bit of hope though, right?]

Let me know if, uhm, you feel any m-marked changes, for better or, uh... well, hopefully they're for better, right?

[She smiles, trying to keep it light, but... well, here we sure are.]

[Quiet is...good, they think. It seems like it's good. She's smiling, and that probably means it's good. "Quiet" lines up with "good" really well, they think. Good kids are quiet. Good kids are seen and not heard.

Good kids are quiet.

Yes.]

Better.

[They repeat the word as if testing it out, their expression blank. They're not sure what their gauge of better would be. Different, maybe? How will they know if it feels different?

Maybe it doesn't really matter. She's still waiting for an answer. They should give her an answer.

So Frisk nods. They'd force a smile, but they're not sure how.]

Okay. I'll do that.

[Something got through to them. They move, shifting their position, hug their knees. They look so worn out. More worn out than a kid should look.]

[He's quiet again while they speak. This is new. He's never heard any of this before. They so rarely open up to him at all, especially not this much. He had no idea they were carrying this around with them; and if they are, it means Frisk is too.]

[He mulls it all over after they're done, thinking.]

i dunno. i'm not sure asriel's a much better judge than me.

[He's met the kid. Asriel's not exactly an authority on good and evil.]

"not the greatest person" isn't the same thing as "the worst person."

[It's kind of semantics, and either way, it's one of those things that you can understand objectively, but still take it deeply to heart. Yet another way Chara is like him; because he can take any negative thing anyone has to say about him, unless it's coming from one specific person.]

[If Papyrus said something like that to him and meant it, how would Sans react?]

could you even let them go? i mean, was it even possible? because frisk told me that it wasn't really up to them. they kept coming back, kept sticking around, even when they didn't...want to.

[They never had a choice in staying Determined. Even the Resets themselves seem to either have been a concerted effort between the two of them, or beyond them both entirely.]

[Which begs some unpleasant questions that he's been deftly not thinking about.]

chara, it's not like...it's not like frisk is dead. they're not gonna die. they'll come back from this. it's, uh...it might take awhile, after the actual extraction. but they should get their usual level of determination back and be back to normal.

[Ostensibly.]

you haven't ruined anything. you made a bad mistake and someone got hurt. it's kinda telling, though, isn't it? this happened because you wanted to hurt yourself. funny, how stuff like that ends up hurting not just you, but other people too.

[It's not really funny at all.]

either way...you're here. the world didn't end, and you're still part of it. and...frisk is still gonna need you when this is over.

[She does look at them, when they speak. Thinks this would be the time in any show, where two negatives come together for the greater good, where a character says something that begins to build their friendship. Where she would fix it, somehow, and apologize for everything she'd done, for her own faults, and they wouldn't have to forgive her now, but it would be... something. Anything. To make them feel more secure. To make her feel less like a failure.]

Frisk doesn't t-think you're unnecessary. And they wouldn't be happy again if they lost you.

[It's not reassuring. It's not even loud. But she knows it's true.]

I can call Toriel to come be with you. If you, if you d-don't want to be alone.

[Alphys would spend the rest of the night going over the same equations if Frisk wasn't already there with them, just to be sure, just to be safe. But there's nothing safe about what any of them are doing, is there? Not when Frisk is ready to let themselves fall apart.

She wants to help. She wants to do something. She remembers, faintly, dragging Sans out of the Deep Roads, literally carrying him at one point because she couldn't leave him behind. She remembers Undyne taking her hand the first day they met and bringing her, step by step, away from the abyss. She remembers sitting with Papyrus in a desolate room, hand in hand, quiet. Waiting. Keeping time.

She might not be able to save herself. But she can save something else. Piece by piece, step by step, into the light.]

Because we w-want to help. You and Chara. We d-don't want you to be hurting anymore.

[Can you help something that can't be helped? This could tear them apart. Decouple them from the way space is, the way time is, like claws unhitching from skin, and just letting them...drift free.

Their eyes spritz from brown to black to a cloudy gray [ERROR] and then settle on a dark crimson, a few shades darker than Chara's. Their vision fizzes oddly with each shift, as if veiled in static.

They - their sprite - they -

They settle upon something that isn't them, but perhaps is close enough, as they advance towards the thing. Afraid to touch it, in case they break it.]

S-so I just...

[Do they sit? Lie down? Wait until [CORRUPTED] resolves and they can think about something else?

00012: fhuehfuehfuehfuheufhe/%...]

[He leaves, for even a moment, and it takes everything she has not to break down. She knows this, she knows this, but the uncertainty to it's design and the modifications she made in the past were gone and replaced by entirely new anxieties. The amalgamates, always seeming drawn to it, as if it would be their salvation. Her own worries about if these are legitimate, if they're her finished model, if there's going to be more work than she thinks. If she's going to make it worse.

God, if she kills Frisk doing this, she won't be able to live with herself. She knows she won't.

So she busies her mind, and her hands, shuts it all out with algorithms and lists. Takes stock of everything she has and needs, organizes the things Sans is bringing in, measures and clears the right amount of space. Thankfully, Wonderland is rather accommodating. If they weren't here, she doesn't know how they could've fixed this.

Her mind also helpfully reminds her that death and rebirth is an option here, and she should be thankful for that, too. Alphys cringes, just a moment, and keeps going.

Finally, it seems like they have everything, minus perhaps an IV drip for coffee that she knows she'll need in about two days' time. At least the kitchen isn't far. She turns from her desk, blueprints spread across it and a small notepad and pen in her hands.]

Okay, so, b-by my calculations, with you, me, and Ford, we might be able to assemble this in a week and a half. A w-week if we're fast and nothing goes wrong with the calibrations.

[And she knows something will go wrong.]

Plus we'll probably need a test run or at least, I d-don't know, zap a chair or something. We'll get there.

[She looks up at him, finally meeting his eyes instead of looking at her notes.]

Is that o-okay? I mean, uh, we can tag-team sleeping, or uhm, coffee breaks, and, of course you don't have to be around for the whole thing but, it'd...

I'm g-glad you're here. I don't want to do this by myself.

[He sighs a bit. He was expecting a response like that. They probably don't feel much of anything right now. A portion of their SOUL has been taken away, and now they're this shell of who they used to be.

Even if they can't be friends like they used to be, he hopes they get back to normal sometime soon. For their sake.]

Well, when you're in this state you can't really rush artistic genius, you know? It's fine that this isn't coming to you like before.

[His words ring hollow. He knows it's the Right Thing To Say, or somewhat adjacent to it, but his fears for Frisk's health rob most of the genuine weight that should have accompanied his words.]

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Page 9 of 16

black then white are all i see in my infancy [closed + open]

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