[Her eyes turn to the water as Frisk apologizes, expression neutral. However, she speaks with the same as when they talked over the phone:] I'm not the one you should be saying sorry to.
[Times like these, she wishes she had a cigarette. Instead, she takes another bite of the odd, otherworldly fruit.]
Maybe you shouldn't have said those things, but it's how you feel, isn't it?
...Sans? Their own expression is neutral as well, fingers slowly turning the fruit over in their hands. They don't know if they want to find out, who she thinks they should apologize to.]
[It's probably more of a loaded question than they think. But Rey just focuses on the more important subject, her gaze not wavering from the water below.]
You do realize that you're not the only killer in this city, don't you? That you aren't the only one who's done terrible things?
[And they aren't the only one who has ever considered, or acted out on, the things that Frisk has thought about.
[And then, she mutters:] This whole situation we're in was built on the foundation of bringing in awful people.
[She says it like that means something. And yet Frisk's shaking their head before Rey's even finished speaking, digging their fingernails into the pear-shaped fruit.]
Doesn't matter. I was supposed to be better.
...I met them. Other me's, when the door let in too many people.
[A shadow of a smile. It's not there for a very happy reason.]
[Inappropriate that it might be, Rey barks a harsh laugh. This all rings too familiar with her.]
But they're not you.
[She gives the fruit in her hand a soured look, the taste of it having already gone bitter in her own mouth. Much as she is able to revel in taste now after all those years of being without it, she can't seem to appreciate it now.
[So she tosses what's left of it in the river and sighs.] Had other me's, too. Some better, some much worse. Hurt a lot of people, killed many more. Can't change that, can't go back and fix things, can't even die. Already done it many times.
[And in the end there was always darkness and solitude. An isolation she is not all too quick to return to, now that she's experienced some semblance of family, friends, the company of others.
[Suddenly, that horrible taste in her mouth makes her gut churn as she folds her arms over the bridge's railing.]
Whether it be by your own hand or someone else's, dying won't change a damn thing. The damage is still done and it always will be.
[She can't die? The statement draws their eyes up to her face, but...maybe she means it like them. Can die, just-
Their own fruit doesn't taste so good, either. Doesn't feel good. She tossed hers first, so after a moment, they follow suit. Watch it disappear into the water and wish they'd done more than lightly toss it forward, so it had gone further.]
I know dying doesn't help. I just come back anyway. And everyone comes back here, right? [Even though it's linear, they come back. Asriel. Alphys. Connor. Sans.]
But what if...
What if one of those other me's could stay, instead? What if they can't because I'm here? If no one wants me, then-
What makes you so sure that the next you will be "better"? Maybe they'll be worse. Maybe they'll lack the "sense" in disappearing, hurt more people. Too many variables when you've been different people. Becomes a bit of a problem.
So, no. Don't think it's the right thing to do, actually. [Her mouth draws into a thin line as she says this, not blind to her own hypocrisy.] The right thing to do is to own up to your shit. Try to be a better person.
There will always be people who don't like you. Hate your guts, even, wish that you are dead. But it sounds like you've got people that care about you, too.
Maybe take it from someone who's tried the solution you're considering. [Pause.] Or don't. Your choice.
They don't tell her that. It probably falls fairly close to number one, and not number two. The right option- own up to your shit.
Own up to your shit. A deep breath, and they turn away from the river. Give her their full attention. Just don't...think about it, anymore. It doesn't matter, if people keep lying to them. It doesn't matter, what Sans said.
They did the wrong thing first. Own up to your shit.]
[Dying is easy. Don't rush to disappear, when those memories will linger. Forgiveness isn't something you can just expect to happen- not when your absence is simply a facade. Absence for the sake of not dealing with those issues.
She doesn't know, and that's okay. They have...something better than death, something they don't have to do alone, and until then, they can keep trying.
No one has to know. It's their secret- Chara's too. No one has to know.]
...I guess so.
[A sigh. The frown is still prominent, but at least there's a certain amount of thoughtfulness, to offset it. They trace the railing with their fingers, just to feel the texture.]
[That question hits a little closer to home than Rey would care to admit. The way her brother would flinch or react whenever she was near him, would move to touch him, is still very real in her mind. Reminding her that he doesn't trust her not to harm herself again, in addition to the derisions derived from her actions that others have served to her.
[And it's her fault. She has no one but herself to blame for this -- for any of this.]
Trust isn't something you can just hope for. You have to earn that.
Maybe it'll never happen. Maybe they'll always keep lying to you to avoid hurting you or being hurt themselves.
But if you really want things to change, you should prove to them that you're someone worth trusting. Just don't go in expecting a specific result, or you might end up sorely disappointed.
[Her advice is- probably sound. Maybe. The difficulty is simply that they're a kid, and whilst there's questions (always questions, about each and every little thing. Why certain things happen. Why others don't. Why things always hurt so, so much) Frisk doesn't have the confidence to utter them.
They nod, as if they understand completely, and the little questions get buried, along with the answer they already know for themself. If the specific result you're expecting is to be disappointed, does it even count as disappointment anymore?
You know they're lying, but that's your fault, isn't it?]
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[Times like these, she wishes she had a cigarette. Instead, she takes another bite of the odd, otherworldly fruit.]
Maybe you shouldn't have said those things, but it's how you feel, isn't it?
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...Sans? Their own expression is neutral as well, fingers slowly turning the fruit over in their hands. They don't know if they want to find out, who she thinks they should apologize to.]
...Yeah. That's how I feel.
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You do realize that you're not the only killer in this city, don't you? That you aren't the only one who's done terrible things?
[And they aren't the only one who has ever considered, or acted out on, the things that Frisk has thought about.
[And then, she mutters:] This whole situation we're in was built on the foundation of bringing in awful people.
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Doesn't matter. I was supposed to be better.
...I met them. Other me's, when the door let in too many people.
[A shadow of a smile. It's not there for a very happy reason.]
They were nice.
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But they're not you.
[She gives the fruit in her hand a soured look, the taste of it having already gone bitter in her own mouth. Much as she is able to revel in taste now after all those years of being without it, she can't seem to appreciate it now.
[So she tosses what's left of it in the river and sighs.] Had other me's, too. Some better, some much worse. Hurt a lot of people, killed many more. Can't change that, can't go back and fix things, can't even die. Already done it many times.
[And in the end there was always darkness and solitude. An isolation she is not all too quick to return to, now that she's experienced some semblance of family, friends, the company of others.
[Suddenly, that horrible taste in her mouth makes her gut churn as she folds her arms over the bridge's railing.]
Whether it be by your own hand or someone else's, dying won't change a damn thing. The damage is still done and it always will be.
no subject
Their own fruit doesn't taste so good, either. Doesn't feel good. She tossed hers first, so after a moment, they follow suit. Watch it disappear into the water and wish they'd done more than lightly toss it forward, so it had gone further.]
I know dying doesn't help. I just come back anyway. And everyone comes back here, right? [Even though it's linear, they come back. Asriel. Alphys. Connor. Sans.]
But what if...
What if one of those other me's could stay, instead? What if they can't because I'm here? If no one wants me, then-
Isn't that the right thing to do? Disappear.
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What makes you so sure that the next you will be "better"? Maybe they'll be worse. Maybe they'll lack the "sense" in disappearing, hurt more people. Too many variables when you've been different people. Becomes a bit of a problem.
So, no. Don't think it's the right thing to do, actually. [Her mouth draws into a thin line as she says this, not blind to her own hypocrisy.] The right thing to do is to own up to your shit. Try to be a better person.
There will always be people who don't like you. Hate your guts, even, wish that you are dead. But it sounds like you've got people that care about you, too.
Maybe take it from someone who's tried the solution you're considering. [Pause.] Or don't. Your choice.
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They don't tell her that. It probably falls fairly close to number one, and not number two. The right option- own up to your shit.
Own up to your shit. A deep breath, and they turn away from the river. Give her their full attention. Just don't...think about it, anymore. It doesn't matter, if people keep lying to them. It doesn't matter, what Sans said.
They did the wrong thing first. Own up to your shit.]
How do I do that?
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[She sighs, shoulders slumped. That probably isn't the response Frisk wants to hear.]
Forgiveness isn't something you can expect to just happen -- from others, or yourself. If it happens ever at all...
I do know that everyone will disappear someday, and there's no point in rushing ahead.
After all, dying is pretty easy, when you think about it.
Dying is easy. Living is hard. We're all made to suffer. [Rey scoffs despite herself.] Somehow, those words kept me going when things get hard.
[Dying is easy, living is hard, and you are born to suffer. You are born to suffer. You are born to suffer.]
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She doesn't know, and that's okay. They have...something better than death, something they don't have to do alone, and until then, they can keep trying.
No one has to know. It's their secret- Chara's too. No one has to know.]
...I guess so.
[A sigh. The frown is still prominent, but at least there's a certain amount of thoughtfulness, to offset it. They trace the railing with their fingers, just to feel the texture.]
What do I do if people keep lying to me, though?
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[And it's her fault. She has no one but herself to blame for this -- for any of this.]
Trust isn't something you can just hope for. You have to earn that.
Maybe it'll never happen. Maybe they'll always keep lying to you to avoid hurting you or being hurt themselves.
But if you really want things to change, you should prove to them that you're someone worth trusting. Just don't go in expecting a specific result, or you might end up sorely disappointed.
no subject
They nod, as if they understand completely, and the little questions get buried, along with the answer they already know for themself. If the specific result you're expecting is to be disappointed, does it even count as disappointment anymore?
You know they're lying, but that's your fault, isn't it?]
Okay.