The words land with a heaviness of some sort of significance that is utterly, frustratingly lost on them. Like there's something important that they're missing, something about the words that should ring familiar. But they don't. They strike no chords, bring back no memories of old things spoken before.
Frisk plucks at the edges of their sleeve, and they find that for the first time, they're having difficulty meeting Chara's eyes. And they can't smile back, matching that strange curve of their lips that doesn't align with what they must be feeling, and they can't even set their expression in that stony stubbornness.
no subject
The words land with a heaviness of some sort of significance that is utterly, frustratingly lost on them. Like there's something important that they're missing, something about the words that should ring familiar. But they don't. They strike no chords, bring back no memories of old things spoken before.
Frisk plucks at the edges of their sleeve, and they find that for the first time, they're having difficulty meeting Chara's eyes. And they can't smile back, matching that strange curve of their lips that doesn't align with what they must be feeling, and they can't even set their expression in that stony stubbornness.
They're right. They...
They're right.
"...I guess I can't," Frisk says softly.