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Yes Sans, please tell us all about those flowers.

[A voice not entirely welcome- but invited. Chara steps forwards regardless of the looks being sent their way; and usually, their eyes would land on those Pokemon, and stay there.

Not today. Slightly more disheveled than they'd usually allow themself to be, their own Pokemon has been left in their room, and Chara's eyes skirt the gardens for something else...when they don't find them, it's Sans who bears the weight of that gaze. What's the saying? You feel your sins]

What did you do, Sans?

[A soft question, but there's no hiding the thinly veiled acidity, there. What did you do?

What didn't you do?]

[ Rio certainly does seem interested in Emma, stepping up to the other Pokemon with curiosity rolling off them in soft waves.

With the way Sans's face is always a matter of permanently locked mandible, it's hard to say when Sans intends to say something, because words just end up being a thing that passes through the gateway of his perpetual grin. One just has to guess, when he makes the impression of taking in a breath for the sake of the lungs he doesn't have, like breathing is a show of solidarity with his fellow monsters (and humans, and other living, sentient beings) who think respiration equates to being alive.

Or something. Thing is, he doesn't get that far, because they've got company. ]

Kid--

[ He doesn't bother to get up from where he's sitting. There's really no point. Rio looks at Emma, and begins to sidle away to the other side of the turtle-duck pond, not so much timid as cautiously hopeful. Are they here to take them back?

As for Sans, he exhales, spreads out his hands. ]

Whaddya think?

[ What he's best at, nothing good? ]

The best we could. You want the story? Take a seat.

[Colin glances over to Chara with a mixture of surprise and irritation. This kid has amazing timing...]

Let's grab a spot of grass, shall we?

Unless you've heard this one already.

[He glances at Rio and Emma, and leaves the Pokemon to sort things out themselves.]

[Emma follows Rio, giving a friendly, inquisitive chime.]

I'll stand.

[Colin garners- absolutely nothing. The look they shoot him is nothing short of dismissive, a moment of attention as he speaks, and nothing more.

If they had the time or the patience to care about anything past the words coming out of Sans' mouth, then Rio would get a few exasperated ~~and slightly affectionate~~ comments, too. But time and patience are not in anyone's favor, today.]

Your potential gardening issue is sorted. [And they're sure the implications are clear; of course Chara had something to do with that.] So now you can do me a favor.

Just get to the point.

[They swear they can feel it beating. And they curl their fingers in their sleeves, just to hide the fact that they're shaking.]

Yeah, with an expression like that--

[ Sans heaves himself up on his feet, moving with a little more care. Gingerly, but it's not like he could have an injury to nurse, not with his abysmally low HP (which, hey, isn't just 1 anymore, but who's counting?). ]

--you ain't here on a social call.

[ Which isn't the kid's style anyway. They're too, uh, outta practice, or something. ]

I noticed. Thanks for yanking on his chain, by the way.

[ He says, shrugging, as he shuffles over to the spot of green grass. ]

I mean, I get it. You've got, uh, reasons for wanting to SPARE that flower the mess going down that road leads to. Maybe to protect your partner from being responsible for his thoughtless actions. Maybe you even... want him to have a shot at being whole again?

Hell if I know.

[ Sorry, Chara, you come in here and disrespect his friend, you show your hand a little and manipulate him? He'll admit you've got a point and he'll get to his, but he'll make you pay the toll. Cut to the heart of the matter, and he'll tear open that facade and show they're motivated to do something good for a lot of the same damn reasons.

Sorry, kid, this is where the demon ends and the child begins. ]

Point is... Frisk got sick. Really sick, came on fast, too. Said something like maybe one of those flowers predicted trouble.

Edited (werds) 2016-04-30 19:34 (UTC)

Shadows set on us before we reached the elevator.

[ He eases himself onto the grass, smells the spring sweetness, the rich earth, scents he couldn't experience too often in the Underground, where there was really no sunshine to speak of to nurture the soil.

Only so much a king can do. ]

Let the kid fight. That's what you both wanted, right? Heh heh heh... Turns out we didn't have a choice.

Took my eye sockets off 'em for a second. Big mistake. Saved what I could, but. Heh, my best just ain't enough.

[Sorry Sans.

But they could care less.

They're so tired of mind games, with him. A favor for a favor; at least they'd genuinely done him one. And he returns with...questions they don't want to think of on a good day. Constantly digging to try and find someone who cares, separate the child from the demon.

They bite and he bites back. That's the Game they play, over and over again. How the Game hasn't changed, huh?

If he'd wanted to find them, the child...all he had to do was tell them what they wanted to know. Or throw words at them with the usual lack of understanding. That's what they both wanted, of course. Necessity. A lack of anyone else to rely on.

Of course. That's what they wanted. Zero security in a Game that's changed but will never really change. It's what Chara's wanted this whole time.

It's why they've constantly bit and prodded him, used Frisk as a weapon just as much, if not more, than his brother, or the timelines. Why does a child climb a mountain like that, Sans? Fifty-four. If you're just going to sit there and be reactive, then get out of the way of those doing the opposite.

They tell him over and over again that sitting there with a first-aid kit stuffed in his ribs is doing no one any favors, and here they are.

And there he is, turning around and judging them anyway.]

[Saved. Almost immediately upon the word used, Chara's eyes go right to his shirt. Or rather, what was under the shirt; beating away in a horrid echo that they'd been mistaking for something else, but that wasn't it at all. Saved what he could, that's...

That's really something, they'll give him that. It's beyond words.

And they have plenty of words. They always do, and always, constantly, Chara uses them. It's a weapon in a new FIGHT, a knife with ATK 99 that deals out blows and causes their enemies to take several proverbial steps back for every step taken forward. So they could FIGHT. They could argue his right to even hold onto what had been saved- or SPARE themself the trouble of bothering and go immediately for their knife, an easy target. Leave his dust to feed the grass, take Frisk and go. Leave.

Colin's still here. Witness. Enemy with unknown strengths; he's not a monster either, he's just- human. And for all their usual barbs, all the knives that they come with, this time, they best they have to give Sans is-

Is the fact that they feel sick. They meet his eyes, just for a moment.]

I thought, if there was one thing-

[Never again. Deep breath, gaze drops. Hands shaking so hard they can feel them; it's hard, being powerless. It's hard, knowing that in order to go unchecked long enough to win, they have to walk away.

They have to leave Frisk with him.]

I trusted you.

Edited 2016-04-30 18:51 (UTC)

Welp.

[ He deserves that, watches that bridge collapse and burn, not that it'd been much more than rotted boards haphazardly nailed to rickety sticks. Trust isn't their strongest suit, either of them.

Still.

That smarts.

And he screwed this one up. All things considered, if he thought he didn't deserve the knife he'd be up where he could stand a chance at dodging. He isn't. Which either means he doesn't anticipate an attack or wouldn't see a point to defending himself. ]

Guess that was your mistake.

Ah....

[Colin looks at Chara.]

Hang on just a sec.

[He raises his index finger in a "Hold on" gesture, and he walks over to Sans... and dumps the blanket he's carrying on top of Sans' head. Sit in the cave of shame for a moment, would you?]

What did he do to earn your trust, kid?

[He's giving the blanket mound of Sans a disapproving look for a moment, before he looks at Chara.]

[He might as well have slapped them. And Chara's a fair few shades paler when they look Colin's way, brow furrowing as he-

What...is he doing? It takes them longer to collect themself than they'd like, expression shifting into something- close enough to expressionless. Maybe.]

...Excuse me?

[ Oh, hey.

Sans is under a blanket and, guess what? He's ok with that. He'll just hang out under here and... listen, mainly. This is for the best, Sans was on a self-destructive roll there and that really wasn't helping matters. ]

Sans, love him as much as I do, is being an idiot. Also, probably hurting more than he's hurt except when he saw his brother die.

Doesn't excuse the foot in mouth disease, but sure explains the attack vector it took.

But anyway, Trust ain't easy. Trust ain't cheap.

What did my skelebro here do to earn your trust, kid? That you could throw it in his face like that?

[He reaches down to pet Sans' head through the blanket.]

[Trust ain't easy. Trust ain't cheap.

No it's not. Trust comes from things like people turning around and telling you...that they don't buy what you're selling. It comes from people poking holes in your stories, and sending you stupid puns. Telling you to breathe and other, ridiculous exercises that you grew up doing, absolutely useless. It comes from hands on your head that pat the bump, the boo boo, trying to separate the demon from the child, the same hands that pick you up and don't put you back down- don't drop you. Don't throw you into the wall or the floor, the ceiling. Doesn't matter where, plenty of places to throw.

It comes when people listen to you sing stupid songs and actually listen to you sing stupid songs. In stupid songs being sung back. Who hear two hundred and six and nothing has changed spat at them like red hot pokers and go reeling from the contact and still don't ask a single question when you come to their room days later caked in blood and a hand split open like overripe fruit. When a bandage is changed, and bandages are changed, and words go unsaid and knives aren't taken. Just a hair ruffle, just a question.

Ever heard of Pranksgiving?

And the stupidest part of all is that they'd-]

Nothing. He didn't do anything.

[Their voice comes out hoarse, but their eyes are steel. Nobody likes a crybaby. Why cry over spilt milk.]

Guess that's my mistake. But I have a better question for you.

Why don't you ask him how many times he watched Frisk die and never lifted a finger to help them?

[ There's a touch to his skull that he identifies as a hand because he can feel the warmth beginning to seep through the blanket.

An answering rasp under that unmoving lump of blanket: ]

Two hundred and seven.

Yes? And?

Let's clear the air here...

You're a knife-wielding murder-child with skewed priorities.

I've got enough murder under my belt to put me away for the rest of my not insignificant life.

Sans may well be the most innocent one here.

NONE of us are good people. But that doesn't make a lick of difference to the topic at hand.

Right now, the topic is Trust. And right now? You're scared and hurt and trying to strike out at someone to make it better.

Ok. Buddy? I'm real sorry I dragged you into this, but--

[ A bony hand emerges abruptly from under the blanket to make a grab at Colin's wrist, the other yanking the blanket off his white dome.

It doesn't show up often, but Sans looks... angry. ]

Take that back.

Whoever you think they are? They aren't that. They're a kid, they're a goddamn kid. They never deserved the hand they've been dealt, ok? You wanna explain how saying that's not supposed to dehumanize 'em?

[ His eyelights dim, but they flick over to Chara, while his phalanges tighten. ]

Kid, I'm sorry. This is why I don't make promises.

[...So that's the new definition for them now, is it? No longer just demon, or kid. It's murder-child now. Exactly what it says on the box.

947 confirmed kills and counting.

It's like all of their favorite things to respond to rolled into one. They've got another definition to add to the ever growing pile of just what they're supposed to be- theFutureofHumansandMonstersbestFriendForeverDemonThatComesWhenYouCallIt'sNameNotHumanAreYouKeepPretendingToBeOnem u r d e r c h i l d- the assumptions of what they're thinking and feeling and the even better assumptions of why.

And then Sans pops out of his shell, barks a little judgement of his own-

Like he's never been the one saying exactly what Colin has. The most innocent one standing here.

And they laugh at him. They burst into laughter, and absolutely no one can miss that hysterical edge to it. No one can miss it when Chara's laughing so hard they have to clutch their stomach, when Rio lets out a nervous cry and the pokemon edge away from whatever it is standing there feeling whatever it does and doing whatever because-]

Oh, no! Don't stop him now! He's got a point! You are the most innocent person here!

[And what a point it is.]

Please, Colin. Imbue us with your wisdom.

Tell us all how we can make this all better.

[Colin? Actually smiles at that.]

Sure, one sec kid.

Sans, buddy... You wanna have it out with me later, go ahead. But I'm not dehumanizing anyone. I'm observing that it's already happened. And you're not doing Chara any favors by saying they're just a kid. Or an adult. They're something else entirely, something I can't even begin to quantify... Now...

[He reaches up and gently draws Sans' thumb back from his wrist so he can extricate his hand.]

This isn't going to be clean, nor is it going to be pretty. It's probably gonna hurt like hell, and if you don't forgive me for what's to come, well... That's okay. Because sometimes the universe is terrible, and actions have consequences...

Now...

[He turns to look at Chara, is expression more neutral now.]

Sans does have a point, I was perhaps too... abrupt. It's a failing of spoken language and my own inability to adapt to social situations. You don't like what I said? I apologize. It was a generalization on the road to a point. I can elaborate, if you prefer, but believe me when I say... It's not important to my point. It's probably VERY important to everyone here... but to the point I was making? It's not important. I was merely expressing the fact that ALL OF US here have killed, have done things irredeemable to society's judgments... and society can fuck right off into a black hole, because life will go on in the grand scheme of things.

[He takes a step closer to Chara, looking down at them.]

You want me to make things better? I somehow doubt that, I recognize casual dismissal well enough. But if you'll listen, I can absolutely start it down the path.

THE POINT I WAS MAKING...

Is that trust? Is hard, scary, and oh so easy to betray.

Sans, over there? Took the trust you gave so freely and he apparently threw it into a shadowy portal.

When you've been hurt as badly as you have? And feel free to correct me if my observation is wrong, because I'm NOT perfect and all knowing... But I know what I've seen in the past, and I see so much of it in you now.

When you've been hurt as badly as a person like you has been, trust is a an exceptionally scarce commodity. When you trust someone, you explicitly give them the opportunity to betray that trust, to hurt you. And that pain is worse than almost, ALMOST anything that someone else can do. Betrayal, among most cultures, is considered the ultimate sin.

I say almost, because there are of course outliers. Like, for example, reducing someone to a simple label like "knife-wielding murder child." Again, sorry about that, it was a poorly chosen brick on the road to a more important point. Anyway...

The real gut-punch of it is, we want to trust. We want to believe that people won't hurt us, can't hurt us.

Sans, again? A pretty decent fellow. I'd trust him with my life.

But I also trust that he is mortal, fallible, and not omniscient and omnipotent. He can fail... And he has. Oh gods above and below, he's failed and you can see it in how he carries himself... He wants things to go right, and... Apologies Sans, for this estimation... But he doesn't even know if they can any more.

[He gestures to Sans as he talks, then he turns and gestures to Chara.]

He's an adult in his culture. He's... had time to adjust, to get hardened to the merciless cruelty of a disorderly existence. You... unless I'm wrong, you weren't even a teenager when things went wrong, were you? When things went so wrong that you broke time...

I have no idea how old you are, how much you've seen. But I'm guessing, and it's JUST A GUESS... But I'm guessing that you never had the chance to grow up. In spite of the fact that your life did everything it could to make you grow up way, WAY too quickly... Your mind still has the trappings of youth wrapped up with the wisdom of age. And it must play merry phlonking hell with your perception of things...

Now... NOW we're going to get to the scary part. So I apologize in advance for that...

And let me preface this with something more important than you can possibly imagine...

DON'T TRUST ME.

I don't belong in this world. My perceptions don't work quite right here. My morals don't know how to quantify what everyone's been through, what's okay and what's not. My goals? Well, let's just say I fix things and I don't really know or care what kind of damage fixing things will do outside of the physical laws of the universe. If you trust me to make things right with a wave of my hand, you can only be disappointed and hurt.

With that out of the way... I look at you, Chara, and I see someone who's been hurt by everyone they've ever cared about. Everyone their heart ever opened up to. So yeah, that knife of yours? I have to think, that knife is about the only thing you actually trust implicitly... Of course, I don't know you. I don't know Sans. I don't know Frisk. And I don't know any of your lives, so everything I'm saying is just a careful decision based on the facts I know...

BUT...

The pain you've got within you? The grip you keep on your knife? The readiness you show to react to a betrayal of trust?

I've seen it before. In the person I'm closest to in the multiverse.

[He glances at Sans then, his expression slightly harder now.]

The body, the mind, the soul, all show reactions to the things they've experienced. A beaten dog will shy from a friendly hand. A repeatedly chastised subordinate will cringe at even a raised voice. A child harmed by those they revere will see betrayal around every corner...

That cannot be fixed by any means I've yet seen. Not by any kind word or merciful deed. Not by any loving family and healthy home. Not by any reset. The only thing that can be done is to TRY to rebuild, to work to make things better, to show that not everything in the world hurts. Even when that has been proven to be a lie by reality and time.

So let me just say this.

[He starts walking around Chara now, slowly, just talking as he walks.]

You want me to try and fix you? That's fine. I can do that. It won't be pleasant. It won't be immediate. And there will be MISTAKES the likes of which you can only imagine.

Me? I don't actually think that you want me to. If I'd talked to Anna like I'm talking to you, she'd have run and she'd have never looked back.

But you're older than Anna. You're different from Anna. You're NOT Anna.

I'm not gonna take it easy on you because you're a kid. And I'm unfortunately going to keep treating you like a kid because appearances are deceiving. And because I'm an arrogant asshole who treats everyone like they're less advanced than they really are. Sorry about that one, it's a problem that I have yet to be able to fix in spite of my efforts, and the efforts of several doctors.

You are broken. And I don't mean that as an insult. I mean that in the way that you have been through stuff that nobody should have been through, and you don't want to have been.

You want me to screw off? That's fine. I won't trouble you any more, unless you come see Sans while I'm around. 'Cause I'm sticking with Sans. He's my friend, and he trusts me.

You want me to stick around for whatever reason? I can do that too. I'll stick my nose into your life however much or little you want me to. You're a pretty amazing person beneath all your layers, and I'd like to get to know you better. 'Cause you've got layers that nobody's seen. Maybe not even you.

And kid? If I'm wrong, TELL ME. I can't fix mistakes that I don't know about. Neither can Sans. Or anyone else.

So how you doing now?

Leaps the fuck in here yolo

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