thisavrou_ooc | tdm 14

Entry tags:

*tdm

tdm 14

T
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D
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Survival is the exception
"living is an act of courage."

THROUGH THE INGRESS

The Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a rocky planet.

Former crew of the Moira are there to greet you, and it’s a grim message they have to share. The Moira has crashed and is beyond repair, but there’s good news... the destination the crew has been heading towards for over a year? You’re standing on it. But before you get into exploration and survival, it’s best to deal with the effects of coming through a broken Ingress.

☄ slip and trip
find your footing fast
Coming through the Ingress has left your character with one of three changes - an age slip, a form of body horror, or an extreme weakness. The first, the age slip, will mean that the character is either older or younger and this change can’t be rectified during their first month in game. The second, body horror, comes in the form of an alteration to the character's body due to whatever they were carrying at the time they came through. If they were wearing a watch, it’s now fused to their wrist, clothes are permanent, knifes replace fingers, and many other alterations (anything goes) and it lasts the first month as well. The third, extreme weakness, can be a mental or physical decrease - weaker arms, legs, or the weaker ability to talk or do math.

ooc: the choice of change is up to each player and this prompt can be game canon.

☄ introductions aren’t awkward
as long as you don’t shake their hand too long
A new planet. Physical and mental changes. Talk of a ship that crashed and a Hub that is home to the ‘creators’ of a technology you’ve never heard of. A lot is happening and the best way to sort through it is by getting to know the Moira’s crew. They’ll help you settle in and get you any care you might need, all the while informing you that the group is on its way to the center of the hub. Something that might seem mundane is an absolute necessity for survival. Ask a seasoned space traveling veteran for answers and guidance.

ooc: this prompt can be game canon.

☄ dealer's choice
just make the right one
Characters have the option of coming through an Ingress that is any possible location on this planet. It can be inside a cave, at the top of a rock formation, etc. This means you can have your character have to climb or slide down, have them yelling for help, and have other characters see them and come to their aid. Your character's arrival is completely up to you, and since this is a unique situation that hasn't happened before, go nuts with it!

ooc: this prompt can be game canon.

OUT OF CHARACTER INFO

FAQ | LOCATIONS | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS | NAVIGATION
For mature or graphic content, please label. For questions, please direct them to the FAQ. As always, be kind and have fun!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A prickle of tension sails across Frisk's nerves, a sense that the world will render itself in stark black and white. But it doesn't because it's them, they wouldn't do that, they wouldn't turn the blade back upon Frisk (except they have, they have and they deserve it they deserve every bit of it).

This close the scent of the flowers is unmistakable. It makes them feel sick.

"No."

Frisk refuses to back away. Their face remains blank, their hand trembling, but they will not back away. They're not leaving you, partner. Never again.

"I'm trying to help."

"You always are." The words are pitying, contemptuous, and Chara turns away, pivoting so they no longer have to look the human in the eye. They do not turn their back. They never, never turn their back.

Perhaps they are being cruel. But they know they are; they are not so terrible a person that they cannot be aware of their own cruelty. Frisk may be a lot of things, but it is not truly their fault they were born human, a member of that hateful race.

Their tone is unfailingly pleasant. "How is that working out for you, by the way?"

Human. Hah. That's the core of it, isn't it? The type of being that would lock an entire race under a mountain, that would fall down and be offered kindness and give only pain in return. It was nice, to pretend for a while that they could be anything else, but in the end...

They've seen what happens. They've seen what they will do.

Pain draws the line of Frisk's mouth tight, and their gaze drops to the ground. Of course they would know, wouldn't they? They know exactly how well Frisk can keep up the charade, how easily it falls apart. Can't even meet the bare minimum of keeping people around you alive, can you?

"...I'm trying."

"Trying very hard to find everyone's happy ending. I see."

Trying is so seldom enough, though, is it? Trying gets you a fistful of golden petals, a SOUL full of pulsing redness that gets you as far as the barrier but no further.

"An old human saying comes to mind," says Chara, languidly, conversationally, "about the road to hell being paved with good intentions. Are you terribly familiar with it?"

They're not sure they want to speak. They aren't sure they can, with the way their throat threatens to tighten into nothing, the invisible vice starting to clamp down and choke out what little voice they have left to them. What words do they have to defend themself with, after all? What could they possibly say to prove they've managed to accomplish anything at all?

So instead, they nod. A short, jerky movement followed by a slow and shaky breath. It takes two tries before they can get a sound out.

"I...know. But I can't give up, either."

Of course they cannot. They are not allowed to give up.

"You cannot give up just yet," Chara says with their strange, distant smile, the smile of someone who acts as though they know something you do not. Calmly parroting the words uttered over their deathbed, as they sweat and bled and let the poison settle its claws into their flesh.

They reach over to one of the flowers peeking out from the lower ridge of their jaw and casually, as easily as if they might be picking a blade of grass - pluck it from their face.

It bleeds.

It's meant to.

"So. Human." They start to peel the petals from the golden bloom, loves-me and loves-me-not drifting to the dark ground in a bright, drifting trail. "You called me here."

It startles them into movement--Frisk steps forward, starts to snatch out to snatch Chara's hand away from the flowers. But they stop and flinch back partway through, knowing full well the reaction that would bring.

The bright red blood stands out against the green and yellow and Frisk's eyes are fixed upon it for several long moments before they reply.

"I...I wasn't the one that brought you here. I called, but...you didn't answer, then."

Or maybe it just took them this long to come.

Frisk's hand lifts again, but this time to point behind Chara to the flickering portal behind them. "It's...these things. They steal people from all different kinds of worlds, 'cuz they're broken. No one could get them to work right."

Frisk points. Chara does not turn. They will not bare their back to anyone, much less someone who opts to display that misleading orange beacon of MERCY. They know what it means, when someone elects to Spare on a thing like them.

"Something broken," Chara repeats, drawing the words out slowly with audible pleasure. How fitting. Something broken is what coaxes them here, called by the SOUL to which they have been chained without their consent.

"Suitable," they say, smiling, "don't you think?"

Frisk's brows draw together, a spark of irritation pulling at their features. Again, with this!

"No. There'd have to be something matching for it to be."

They are not broken. They've been hurt and twisted up and dragged out of death against their will, but god damnit, they're not tainted or a demon or whatever stupid edgy label they want to put on it today!

Well, gosh, Frisk. Guess they're cured! Guess they're all better. You can Spare them now, and perhaps now they can dance in a field of flowers and make daisy-chains while no one thinks of death and acts strange and hateful and morbid!

You are not the one in control here, human. They are not your humble servant. They will not follow you to the utmost.

"I'm sure this is only a hiccup." They run fingers along the soft petals sprouting along the ridge of one cheek, smiling serenely. "Or - what is it that is said in the RUINs? Perhaps it simply marks a rotation of perspective."

There's...something there that Frisk can't quite understand. Or maybe it's that they don't want to understand. Their expression softens, and Frisk shakes their head.

"I don't know."

There's a lot they don't know, really.

"Chara, are--are you going to stay?" They tug hard on the edge of their sleeve, but their eyes don't leave Chara's face. "It's kind of a big camp, but...we don't have to stay right with them, if you don't want. I don't mind going in on my own t' get what we need."

"Do I have a choice?"

The question is razor-edged, their eyes snapping to meet Frisk's with an abruptness, an intensity that perhaps does not suit the smile on their face. But they have always smiled easily.

The illusion of choice is easily presented, it is true. But where Frisk is concerned - it is typically a fairly straightforward, unilateral manner. They have that effect on things, projecting linearity where none necessarily has to exist.

They have a talent for it.

For a moment, Frisk freezes.

Do they?

Of course they do. Chara isn't chained to Frisk here, not like how it was back home. They can do whatever they wish without anything to tell them no. It's not like Frisk can force them to.

...right?

A tiny, desperate part of them wants to say no. To refuse to let Chara out of their sight, to hold on and beg them to stay. They can't stand the thought of Chara leaving again, they don't want to be alone without the one person that could understand. It felt like part of their SOUL disappeared that night Frisk realized Chara was gone, and the idea of having to watch them walk away--

They can't. They can't lose Chara again.

...

But...

Frisk swallows thickly, and tries to ignore how heavy the locket around their neck feels.

"...yes."

Edited 2016-12-05 05:52 (UTC)

Their smile reveals a flash of bright teeth as they laugh, a short, unkind sound. "That would be a first!"

Their SOUL, or whatever they have that passes for one postmortem, hums those words again, snakelike, a low breath of, I don't believe you. And why should they? What has Frisk done to inspire novel concepts such as trust or loyalty lately?

They pick a petal from one of the flowers stemming out from the side of their neck, absently.

"And what if I told you I do not believe you?"

Frisk doesn't flinch this time. Really, they don't blame Chara for this. It's nothing they don't deserve.

"I can't make you believe me. And I won't force you to do anything. I--"

I just want to help you.

They don't say it, choke back the words before they come out. Their eyes stay trained on Chara's own, bright with unshed tears, and they do not move.

"It's your choice."

"You can't force me to do anything. How nice of you."

There is an unmistakable note of scorn there as Chara ceases their fiddling with the blossoms coiled around their arms and along the lines of their clavicle, and fold their hands neatly behind their back.

They look like they're about to cry.

This is not an atypical state for them, all things considered.

"And if I told you my sole desire was to leave?" Their eyes spark, deep and red, their smile curling in such a way that leave means, very certainly, something else entirely. "What would you do then?"

No.

No no no.

No, no, they can't do that, they can't accept that, they can't just disappear like that and never come back! They're supposed to stay, they were getting better, they'd started to all be a family again, they can't just go, it's not right, it's not--!

Selfish little brat!

Frisk is silent for several long moments. When they finally speak, they have to force it out around the tightness in their throat.

"...it's your choice."

Their eyes narrow subtly, red slits boring into Frisk's stare with unrelenting, unblinking intensity. They're having trouble adjusting to the notion that certain things may be beyond their control, are they not?

It would be a cruelty, possibly, to simply - go. To finally exercise the means of achieving the release they have always desired. Again they failed to reach the end, and again they were cast into flesh and bone against their will. Only this time - it happens to be their own.

A new and intriguing phenomenon. Not interesting enough to hold their interest.

Again, brightly, they say: "I don't believe you."

"I know. I'm not...I wasn't ever fair to you."

It's so hard, to hold Chara's gaze. To not drop their eyes, shrink in and away from the blame and judgement. But they owe them this much, to face everything Chara has to throw at Frisk and accept it for what it is.

"I...I don't want you to go. But if it's what you really want, I won't..." Their voice catches for a moment. Don't cry, don't try to sway them, just...be honest, for once in your damn life. "I don't have any right to stop you."

Their gaze drifts from Frisk's, as if they have grown abruptly disinterested, even if, at the moment, they are quite the opposite. It is woefully apparent that Frisk is trying so very badly to be fair and just, to make a good impression.

They have been doing a poor job of it.

"You seem to have been doing quite well for yourself." A many-layered and multi-fractalled statement, whose purposes are profound and manifold; the veiling of a question in a pleasant observation paired with a blatantly false judgment. Though "quite well" has the capacity to mean a great deal of things, such as, in short order: alive. Which they clearly are.

In that regard, it is not a false perception at all.

Finally, something snaps. The first few tears roll down Frisk's cheeks, and their fists clench up tightly at their sides.

"No, I haven't."

Doing well? Doing well?

"I--I hate it here! We've been stuck on that ship for ages, and people keep--they keep leaving, the Ingress just throws us all around and we can't do anything about it! And all these--these horrible things keep happening, and I can't stop any of it! The whole ship was attacked, and so many--so many people died and I couldn't save anyone, I couldn't save Papyrus, he was right in front of me and I couldn't stop it! I keep trying to LOAD and fix everything but the FILE isn't working, I can't get to it!"

They start sobbing, eyes screwed shut and hands grasping tightly at their hair, gripping and pulling in frustration. The more they admit the faster the rest comes tumbling out, and even if they wanted to they couldn't stop themself now.

"A-and Asriel was--there were slavers, Chara, half the ship got stolen and I couldn't help him or Mettaton at all, no one would let me go down to find them and they're so scared now! I want to--I want to kill them, I want to find every last one and tear them to pieces, but I can't! I can't keep anyone safe, I keep messing up and I can't fix it and what's the point of me being here if I can't do anything?! And people keep finding out about what I am, what I can do, and they're going to--they're gonna turn on me, they're all gonna realize the sort of thing I am and I deserve it! I saw--I saw everything, my disk broke and I don't know what's me or what I haven't done yet, it's so confusing and it hurts!!"

Their knees buckle and they collapse to the ground, curled forward with shoulders hunched up. The identity disk on their back is in plain view, looking more like an innocent toy than anything else.

"I-I don't...I don't know what to do anymore! It was okay for a while because Tabris was here, but now he's gone too and no one else...n-no one else..." Frisk chokes, hiccups, gasps through a harsh sob. "No one else understands."

Edited 2016-12-05 18:07 (UTC)

The floodgates open, and everything pent up comes spilling out, sluicing through the air in torquing, unfocused streams. They smile because it comes naturally to them, to keep that blast shield up even as Frisk begins to cry.

They keep their gaze fixed and their smile unflinching up until the moment that Frisk topples, knees impacting the ground. Asriel and slavers and stolen cut into their ears, and their eyes flare with a recognition, an understanding that - that this is Frisk at their finest, surely. This is Frisk attempting to force them to bend to their tears, to win them over with sentiment when they are beyond that in every sense of the word. But without the reassuring cushion of LOVE around their heart, there is...

For a long, quiet moment, Chara stands there.

They - refuse to fall for this ruse a second time. They refuse to be led along like this, blindly. They are implacable, they are ironclad, and they will not be taken advantage of, laying down their weapon so that Frisk's job will be exponentially easier.

They will not bear their unarmed back so someone can sink a knife into it up to the hilt.

If Frisk has not done so yet, then it is only a matter of time.

They waver. Perhaps for far too long, they waver. They are caught in a rut they can only truly, honestly call one of indecision.

The idea that Frisk might seek comfort in one such as them is laughable. All they have is the tip of a blade, a handful of petals, a locket whose meaning has been all but lost on the world.

Either way, they have their answer.

They drop smoothly in a crouch, their eyes locked on the pathetic shape curled there, trembling, and the single word they hiss is not much in the way of comfort - though, truly, what had Frisk been expecting?

"Explain."

Frisk's sobs don't stop, soft and choked out into their knees. And they don't dare to look up, don't dare to hope this is anything more than Chara deciding just which pound of flesh to extract from them, how painful it should be.

"It w-was...after the Cadeucean people attacked us. Something happened with the ship's Ingress, and it took us all...s-somewhere else. A bunch of people wound up on a planet nearby because of it, a b-big...slaving post? They were stuck there, and they got caught. The captains got rescue parties together, but...Toriel wouldn't let me go. She--" Frisk laughs, broken and incredulous. "Sh-she said it wasn't safe enough! That I shouldn't be risking myself like that! And I just...I let her stop me. I should have snuck on anyway, I should have..."

Undefined words and terms no one bothered to explain to them, dovetailing into unspoken clarifications they will not request. It would be simple enough to wrong-foot them through obfuscation, to set them off guard by forcing them to admit a weakness or a lack of foreknowledge.

"So you left him there," says Chara, flatly, extrapolating what little needs to be extrapolated. "You left him there, and made no attempt to retrieve him."

And why are they confessing this? In the spirit of honesty? Possibly to catch Chara off-guard. To what end does not matter. What matters is that it will not work.

"Well." The word drips with contempt as they stretch it out past its termination. "It's a good thing she was there to keep you safe."

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#yikes

1/2

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