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!

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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."

Frisk doesn't bother to try and defend themself. It doesn't matter that their entire body had been turned to glass, that there were already plenty of volunteers, that without SAVE they were little more than a liability on a mission like that. The facts have already been laid out, and anything else would be just making an excuse. They waited on the ship while Asriel suffered through who knows what sort of horrible things, and pretended like there wasn't anything else they could do. Even an apology would just be a slap in the face.

All they can do is bow their head in shame.

Is this what you wanted them here for, Frisk? You wanted them here to - what? Confess your sins accordingly? Do your penance, concede your failings, and let them judge you, as if you have not already and always been judged throughout every path you have ever taken?

Chara stands, infusing a quiet scorn into the brusque, simple movement.

"And so we come to this." They spread their arms wide, the blossoms running to one shoulder casting their stance in a peculiar asymmetry. "You called me. I came. And I am now, I am assuming - your sounding board for terrible past ideas? The manifesto for your failures?"

They are not surprised, of course. It cannot be betrayal when you have been expecting it since the beginning, the simple reduction of one's personhood into a sole purpose.

"Or perhaps you simply desired the challenge," says Chara, dismissive. "The challenge of whether or not a demon can be SAVED."

"No...no!"

They shake their head, sniffling and scrubbing at their eyes before they look up at Chara. That wasn't it, that wasn't ever it! Chara isn't a tool for them, not a weapon or a crutch or shield. Frisk doesn't need that, they just need--

"I just--I don't know what to do without you! I don't want to be alone, I don't want to be somewhere you're not! I don't care where we go or what happens, I just want to be with you!"

It's funny, how they manage to contradict themself in the same breath. Chara's smile thins with disbelief, the wry doubt evident in the curve of their brow and the lift of their chin.

"I will make you feel less alone?" They shake their head, derisive. "It seems you have plenty of company. You have made so many great friends. Why, Asriel is even here!"

And what sort of ending would he possibly want if Chara happens to be in it? Why would he content himself with a cast-off in gray-scale when he has Frisk, bright and whole and unsullied?

"But they're not you!"

Frisk pushes themself to their feet, just barely holding themself back from reaching out to Chara desperately. They don't know how to put it into words, the empty feeling in their chest they've held for months. There's no way to truly describe that ache, the feeling of being lost when there were still so many people at their side.

"None of it matters if you're not here. I love them all, but...nothing feels right without you." Frisk shakes their head, heaving a deep breath to try and steady themself. "I'm...we're...you're my partner."

You are a great partner, they say, in another time - a time that was denied, in many ways, a Game that was played to near completion. Rendered into nothing more but numbers and letters, stats to click up and down as they pleased. Disinterest in NPCs. Disinterest in puzzles. Disinterest in little things such as plot devices.

Their worth, dependent on making Frisk feel less alone.

That cannot be all there is to it. Chara lifts their eyebrows, smooth and controlled.

"Come up with that all on your own?"

It's not enough. Of course it's not enough.

"It's the truth."

Why would anyone believe something like them, after all? Something that could twist the world around, wring out every possibility out of nothing more than curiosity and boredom. What proof of their honesty, of their emotion, could they ever truly offer?

If Frisk says it is the truth, it must be. Their word may as well be law at this point, must it not?

"You are mistaken." Their smile is vague and small, their eyes half-lidded in a crude parody of Frisk's expressionless default stare. "'Partner' implies equality where none exists."

They place one hand over their chest, over the place where the blackened tumor that passes for their heart must be located, now that they have one once more.

"I am your humble servant," says Chara, listlessly. "I follow you to the utmost. That is all."

Frisk's brows crease, confusion and heartache and guilt merging into a dark, sticky feeling in their chest. This...they never meant for this. They never...

"That's...that shouldn't be all you are. That's not right."

"Nevertheless, it is all I ever have been."

You have your answer, Frisk, or the closest you will come to it. If the fallen human is to accompany you, it is through this caveat. They have only ever lived to serve one purpose or another; a tool to be picked up and then put down again when it suits you.

For now, it seems it is their desire that Chara become of use once again.

They swallow thickly, trying to blink away tears and pull together some semblance of a controlled mask. A sniffle, some furious scrubbing at their eyes with one sleeve, and they look...better. It's a thin veneer, flimsy, but it's enough for now. Enough to let Frisk reach up and unhook the locket around their neck, and take a step forward to hold it out to Chara in both hands.

Back where it belongs.

Their eyes narrow into scarlet slits as they survey the Locket, the chain pooled in the concave meeting of Frisk's palms. They don't need to look at it for very long to know what it says on the other side. The words engraved in it, the lies forever carved into front.

Best Friends Forever.

Or until someone better comes along, in any case.

One side of their smile thins, pulling upwards into a tight, skeptical look.

"99 DEF," they say. "Not terribly responsible of you, is it? Handing something like this over to a murderer."

Their mouth tugs into a frown, and they shrug. Why shouldn't they?

"It wasn't ever mine. And I want you to be safe." With everything that's happened, they don't want to take risks with anyone's well-being.

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#yikes

1/2

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