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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She knows it's worked, everything should be-- will be -- fixed, going to be better. Frisk isn't falling apart, she has a vial of Determination locked up, all her readings show they're going to bounce back. Their SOUL will generate more. They're... they're very determined. Always have been. But all the SOULs restored at different rates, and she has no idea how much time it'll be. How much she'll have to wonder if she's made them like this permanently, if she's messed up, if she's robbed them of a piece of themselves.

But she goes to visit. As much as she can without being overbearing. Keeps her sensors, reading levels she used for the DT levels, sees if she can track their rate of growth, but only if it's okay.

So she tentatively knocks on their door, sees if they're in. If they want to see her.]

Frisk?

[Frisk is, indeed, in. They have been picking up books, a trio of them stacked atop one another with a sticky note on the topmost one reading, in a child's untidy scrawl: for Zacharie.

They remember Zacharie, and they remember these were for Zacharie. They pick through one of the books idly, but nothing about it seems especially interesting now. They're not sure why they bothered. They set it down when the door exhibits a timid knock. They get up to open it because that's the thing that polite kids do. It opens a crack, and they look at her blankly.]

Alphys. Hello.

Hey.

[She waves, small, uncertain. Doesn't know if they want to see her right now. Doesn't know if they might be scared of her, of her potential, of the thing she could do. She doesn't want to be scary. She wanted to help, and think she did, but...]

Do you, uhm, h-have a few minutes? I wanted to uh, check your vitals and uh, everything. Make sure you're d-doing okay.

[If Frisk is scared, nervous, worried...it doesn't show. Nothing shows. If it occurred to them to search themself for a vestige of proper emotion, they probably would have, and still - they would have come up empty.

Just like the room they're in. It's almost indistinguishable from the way it was before, only now no one is coming back to the left bed. Maybe ever? They're not sure it really matters.

The room doesn't shrink down, or otherwise. There are still two beds.

Frisk steps back to let her in, if she wants, complacent. They know Alphys. She's their friend. She's here to help.]

Okay.

[She doesn't know what happened with Frisk and Chara since the procedure. Honestly, she collapsed for like, an entire day immediately afterwards, just on principle of the fact that she hadn't slept more than a few hours in the last week. But she just... needs to know they'll be okay. Can never trust her own work. So she steps in, keeping her footprints gentle, her presence small.]

I d-don't need blood samples or anything, I just uh, h-have a few meter reading wands and everything. Nothing needs to touch you a-at all. Okay?

[Frisk wanders over to one of the beds at random. Looks like they picked Chara's. Or...not Chara's anymore. Whatever. They sit down on it and fold their hands politely in their lap, gazing absently ahead as Alphys makes her way inside. They sort of lose track of a lot of what she says dribbles in one ear and out the other. Meter reading...nothing needs to touch...

Okay.]

Okay, [they say again. They're probably being...boring, or something. But they're quiet. That's the good thing. Kids should be quiet.]

[God, this hurts. This hurts so much. She fumbles around in her pocket for the device, a handheld box with a screen and a little blinking light at the top. She also pulls out a tablet with some notes and observations already recorded, some from before the procedure and some after. She wishes she had thought to do a baseline a while back. If she's lucky, and she did her job properly, she'll get one after. But right now she just needs to make sure they get there.

She waves the wand over their chest, and the light blinks a few times, beginning to buffer and spit out a variety of numbers and a wavelength scale.]

How're y-you feeling?

I'm fine.

[They sit there and watch her wave the official-looking science thing around. There's lights and soft beeps and clicks, and they can only imagine it's a good thing, that it's useful. They're being useful like this, see? They're being useful.

And they're fine. They say that they're fine because they are, but also because they know that's what you're supposed to say.]

It's quiet here.

[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.

Okay. I mean, also uh, I'll c-check in on you and make sure you're alright and, uhm, if you need anything, or, feel a-anything, or, whatever, you can tell me! And uhm... yeah.

[She swallows. She doesn't want to freak out around them. But god, what if they're like this forever because of her.]

I'm sorry. For all the, uhm, s-scary things in the last week.

[She's trying so hard, they register, if somewhat distantly. No, actually; a lot distantly. They feel like ordinarily they'd be eager to smooth away the creases and corners of her anxiety, her fluttering hands and stammering speech, with a smile and a reassuring statement of affirmation.

They don't have any of that now. The only consolation they can offer is the monotonous truth:]

It's okay. They're not that scary now.

Well, I...

[Her words fall short. Ideas gone. Just... defeated.]

I bet not.

Do you want me to, uhm, s-stay and keep you company? Or, uhm, do you need anything, or... uh, s-something?

[Oh. They said the wrong thing again, didn't they? That's...bad, probably. They'd wish they could feel bad, but wishing and wanting are simply too abstract for Frisk to approach either concept, even obliquely.

Instead, they shrug.]

If you want.

[Augh. Gosh, this hurts.]

I mean, it's.. it's if y-you want, really, but uh, we could put some movies on, and... stuff.

[If you want, says Alphys, apparently forgetting that "wants" just aren't in Frisk's wheelhouse right now. But if they don't say something, she might just grow increasingly distressed and indecisive, so - ]

Okay.

[She is trying her hardest, okay. She just wants to make sure, when this is all over- if this is all over- they can look back on this and remember that everyone still cared about them. That they were never truly alone.]

Ok! I'll g-get, uh, some of the lighter Miyazaki stuff. Like Totoro! I'll be right back, o-okay?

Okay.

[She's trying her hardest. It'd be nice to be able to care. Everything that's happened has made her upset, even more nervous than usual. But all they can do is observe with a dispassionate, lifeless gaze.

They watch her leave, and then stare at the door without seeing it.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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

i have no self control

pats shoulder

gotta have more zero threads

shhhh i will hoard ur threads close to me always

SSSAME

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