[When the message blips onto their screen, a cold feeling plummets down Frisk's spine. The entire world seems to slow to a crawl, a shutter-click pause in time, and all without Sans in sight. Instead of responding, Frisk sets their phone aside, swallows, and climbs off their bed to investigate.]
[.... ?]
[Underneath the mattress is a sweater. Frisk pulls it free. Dust flies loose from the cot, causing them to cough as they shake the garment out; something drops into their lap, slides onto the floor in front of them. Pausing, Frisk folds the sweater over one arm to pick it up. Their fingers register the shape before their eyes even make sense of the odd, metallic outline.]
[And there are a myriad of answers that Chara could give to Frisk right now, some inane, some less so. They move to make it as blithe as possible; just in case we want to have a good ti
['Like' is a strong word. 'LOVE' is a stronger one. They know which it is that finds them sliding their palm slowly along the flat of the blade, cold metal sending a chill through their bones. Despite everything, they're still them. They don't need an object to prove it. But...]
[Brand new. Even better for cutting plants and vines than the worn dagger that sailed into the castle's belly months ago.]
[Frisk retrieves the black sheath, emblazoned with the same rose pattern that adorns the knife itself, and slides the knife inside. Their hands feel frighteningly empty as they pick their phone back up.]
[Mm. They'd thought as much. Chara's thumb smooths down the edge phone, lost in an almost idle wonderment.
Despite everything, Frisk is probably more afraid of themself than Chara is. That must be something, pulling away from your own, basic instincts out of fear of rejection.
Ha.]
You might not have a choice in this.
Playing about with your SOUL might be good enough for some shadows, but it's not going to be good enough for him. Do you not owe him respect of his final request? Now that you've seen him again, you cannot expect him to be the same person.
I am not demanding you attempt to be proactive in this. Simply reactive. Sans cannot fix things he barely understands. And we both know that Toriel cannot be relied upon, either.
If you must simply rely upon yourself, allow me this one favor. At least keep a means of protection close by.
[It's as close as they can come to admitting that Frisk's safety is a priority. As close as they can come to saying that they don't think they'd be capable of handling it, losing the Frisk that is here and now. The Game has changed. Other timelines do not compare.
And should Flowey take hold of their SOUL- it's Game Over.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[Text]
[.... ?]
[Underneath the mattress is a sweater. Frisk pulls it free. Dust flies loose from the cot, causing them to cough as they shake the garment out; something drops into their lap, slides onto the floor in front of them. Pausing, Frisk folds the sweater over one arm to pick it up. Their fingers register the shape before their eyes even make sense of the odd, metallic outline.]
[It's a knife with a pretty butterfly design.]
[Frisk's fingers whiten, and before they fully comprehend their own movements, glide over the hilt in a practiced grip.]
[.....]
[A few minutes later, their reply finally comes.]
It's me.
[H a h a.]
What is this for?
[Text]
It's you.
[And there are a myriad of answers that Chara could give to Frisk right now, some inane, some less so. They move to make it as blithe as possible; just in case we want to have a good ti
Underneath the bandages, their palm throbs.]
Gardening. Potentially.
[Text]
[Brand new. Even better for cutting plants and vines than the worn dagger that sailed into the castle's belly months ago.]
[Frisk retrieves the black sheath, emblazoned with the same rose pattern that adorns the knife itself, and slides the knife inside. Their hands feel frighteningly empty as they pick their phone back up.]
I can't.
[Not like this.]
[Text] 1/2
Despite everything, Frisk is probably more afraid of themself than Chara is. That must be something, pulling away from your own, basic instincts out of fear of rejection.
Ha.]
You might not have a choice in this.
Playing about with your SOUL might be good enough for some shadows, but it's not going to be good enough for him. Do you not owe him respect of his final request? Now that you've seen him again, you cannot expect him to be the same person.
[Text]
If you must simply rely upon yourself, allow me this one favor. At least keep a means of protection close by.
[It's as close as they can come to admitting that Frisk's safety is a priority. As close as they can come to saying that they don't think they'd be capable of handling it, losing the Frisk that is here and now. The Game has changed. Other timelines do not compare.
And should Flowey take hold of their SOUL- it's Game Over.]
Why reject such a handsome gift?