save_theworld | IC Inbox

[After last month's convoluted series of mishaps, maybe it's understandable that going back to normal in the wake of it doesn't feel normal. There's an empty room in the house that wasn't empty before; everyone is quieter for it. Or maybe it's just their imagination.

It takes a long time for this new version of how things are to feel anything close to normal. Maybe the fact that everything's been fairly quiet since is a good thing.

Though a little distraction here and there doesn't hurt.]

I'm not busy. Meet you there?

sure thing.

[He's already there, naturally, camped out beneath one of the trees. Brot is sniffing at the clumps of flowers curiously, occasionally pawing at a petal or two with a small, rust-brown paw.

It's almost easy to forget that there's doubtless more shit on the horizon, like this.]

[It doesn't take too long for Frisk to arrive, either. For a kid who spent the first seven months of their time here without an adult consistently monitoring them, knowing the quickest way to get about on short legs had become something of a game.

The last time Sans had something to show people, it was the stones embedded into the cavern ceiling. A visual they could look up to, even if they couldn't touch, that reminded them of the quieter moments in the Underground; the better moments.

This time, the first sense that kicks in is their nose. Amidst the abundance of fruit on the trees, it's not so overwhelming-- but it's there. Tickling at their nose, bringing them to a halt at the first line of trees as they look down and they're

Haha. They're there.

They take a minute, to hide behind the nearest tree. Suck in a few deep breaths. It's a quiet child that approaches Sans in the end; but they're always quiet, aren't they? A brief, distracted smile, and their eyes are on the flowers around them, rather than the skeleton himself.

Waiting for one that starts moving on it's own.]

Golden flowers.

[Wishes he could say he's gotten better at reading 'em, the longer he's hung around. Their eyes sweep the surrounding area, the soft mantle of golden petals that don't have any sun to glow under, but seem to radiate their own aura nonetheless.

They look...pretty. Were prettier when they weren't carpeting the floor of Asgore's throne room in a painful display of his grief, but they're pretty now, too.

So why don't Frisk look real happy?]

Little birdie told me they were a favorite of Chara's, growin' up. [Well, no. That's just part of the story that everyone hears, about the royal children and the way things are now.]

Figured they might be yours, too...?

[It was a guess. There's always a certain risk, when it comes to guesswork.]

[Chara is a little farther behind, for reasons that are known to only themselves and maybe Frisk. It's hard not to miss it.

The scent of those flowers when they breath in, subtle under the smell of everything else but undeniably there. Chara remembers the sea of gold as the patch that saved them from their fall, took root wherever it could and never let go. The flowers that were the one good thing up on the Surface that they said good-bye to.

The golden petals of a creature that was once their best friend and the one that were cared for by Asgore as he stood in the throne room when Frisk finally arrived there, looking sadder than Chara ever remembered.

Saying they were a favorite of Chara's was an understatement but the feelings towards this gift were complicated, to say the least. They weren't ones that Chara could shove into their little box either. The Fallen Child wasn't ungrateful but....well, they hang back behind the tree a little longer than Frisk does to scrub at their face before joining the pair.

They can't really bring themselves to say anything for the moment either. Frisk might have to do the talking for a bit here. Chara's a little preoccupied with their memories for now.]

[He figured- wanted this to be a nice thing. Like stars in the sky; something else from home that brings them some sense of comfort. Chara isn't far off, and Frisk knows them enough to pick up the slight redness to their nose and eyes, a face scrubbed clean of emotions both good and horribly bittersweet.

It's not hard to figure out what their own, personal association to these flowers is. Pain is something quick to resurface, fear. Waking up with pollen in their nose, sneezing reflexively as they contemplated just what they'd done wrong this time, before they have to try again. And again. And again.]

...Not really.

[Painful, to be that honest. They crouch down, fingers gently running across one of the flowers- as careful as they can be. Throat feels really tight.]

I don't like them at all.

[Ah.

So it weren't much of a right guess at all, then. That's the risk, that's always the risk and puttin' himself out there - he should'a known, shouldn't he, that'd he'd get bit for the trouble. They're doin' their best not to let it show.

But they ain't lookin' at him either.

Even Chara seems...reticent.

He's wondering, now, if it ain't too late to go back on that deal. To tell Sorrow every joke and pun and crack he knows, just to watch 'em all wither and die, 'cause he didn't meant any promise out of it, did he.

A laugh, low and nearly silent, all but outright uneasy as he glances away, out across the sea of gold he never should'a brought here.]

...heh.

Guess I should've done more research, huh?

[It's the kind of thing that means so much, like hearing "thank you" or "I love you" and feeling joy and pain.

That's the feeling behind the flowers.

They know about the starry 'sky' (hard to miss, really) and this was likely done for the same reason. Something nice, something to remind them of home. While golden this was very much an act of kindness in its own way.

Just....well, you can't see the green if you scribble all over it with red. Perhaps Chara was thinking about this too much in terms of SOUL colors but it was the best way to put it.

Or you could say Sans tried striking a match to provide some light and wound up burning them instead. It clearly wasn't his intention to do so, but with a thing that had both good and bad memories it was bound to happen.

Inevitable, really. Kids like you...

Chara joins Frisk in the dirt and cups one of the flowers in their hands. They remember all the times they've seen these plants. The Fallen Child's expression is tired and a bit melancholy.]

There are just some things research do not help.

[Not uplifting by any means but it is truthful, in a way.]

[He just wanted to make them happy.

He thought they liked them. And maybe... maybe he could've done something else, but he thought they'd like them.

Chara looks as downtrodden as they feel. Maybe- maybe it's for different reasons. Some of them might even be similar; the memories associated with them, the people. Those repeated moments, waking up on the flowerbed. Smells like failure.]

They're still pretty.

[Pretty. Not associated with the best of things, but pretty. He tried really hard, they think. Or maybe it wasn't hard at all.

Still. He thought about them.]

Thanks, Sans.

[It's...well, he ain't real sure what's keeping 'em saying what they're saying. Pity, maybe. 'Cause he made an effort for once in his life, only to be reminded why he should never have bothered. That's...heh, that's what he gets for trying to nail 'em with a surprise.

Why even try.

They're still pretty to look at, easy enough. Even if now all he's managed to do is bring a splash of a horrible reminder down here, so they can look at it every day.]

I gotta...deal with Sorrow, to keep 'em here. 'Long as I'm not makin' any jokes, they're stickin' around.

[He can break that deal. Just as easy.]

[Chara smiles a little bit.

It's not a particularly happy one but it's also nowhere near close to that painted smile they usually wear. Frisk and Sans are right. These flowers are a reminder of something painful. Waking up again and again because something went wrong and those somethings spun off until the Fallen Child couldn't keep track of what they were. All they knew what that they had failed.

And, once upon a time, Chara had laid their own body down on a patch of golden flowers on the Surface. That moment where everything went wrong.

There are some positive aspects, however. Golden flower tea, memories of a family. The patch of flowers where two SOULs slammed into each other and became one.

* Where I met you.

Something to LOVE and love.]

They are beautiful.

[Said to themself and Frisk, mostly, and with a level of sincerity they don't normally allow.]

These flowers grow with very little effort and their seeds stick to everything. Sorrow will have to work extra hours to remove them. [They say it as if the God couldn't get rid of them with a wave of his hand.] So I think we should save him the trouble and keep them.

[They brush a petal with one hand. Sans's gift isn't a hit, but it's not a miss either.]

[Frisk's smile grows warmer, directed Chara's way. More genuine at their Partner's speech; an explanation that's probably meaningless, but it sounds like the right thing to say. They're here now, and it would be such a bother to get rid of them, after all this effort. Not even worth the trouble.

There's one good thing about these flowers. They're looking at it.

Even the worst memory isn't so bad, when they think about it like that.]

Mm. That.

[They look at him, now. The smile is still easy and genuine, and they're still...crouched down in the flowers. Running their fingers across golden petals, collecting pollen on their skin. It's a really good thing that they don't have allergies.]

No more jokes. Flower you going to do that?

[Well, one outta two ain't the worst track record. It's better than Zero. Maybe they don't love the flowers, but Chara seems to be lost in some memory or another - maybe that of the things they so loved. That's what all the stories say, ain't it?

And if Chara's happy, Frisk's happy.

They are beautiful.

He chuckles, faintly. Nice SAVE, kiddo.]

I'll have to seed if I can keep it up.

IC Inbox | Hadriel

text - time for Pain

Hell Yea

haha here we go then

;-;

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