solnet | [Text] Haha freaking out what do you mean no one's freaking out this is fine-

Greetings, fellow soldiers.

With the current state of things, now is a good time to remind ourselves of appropriate levels of respect for each other. Absolute strangers potentially learning your deepest secrets is not something that sits well with myself; I imagine that I'm hardly the only person who feels this way.

I invite anyone else who may have issues with others attempting to discuss said memories to opt out of such social situations through this network post. In my own circumstances, I would prefer that you kept it to yourself.

In other news, Sans is missing. Perhaps he has also gone on vacation, perhaps not.

Please remain vigilant. If you have any further information in regards to the disappearances, or have noted someone else who does not appear to be available via their phone, feel free to share that particular information.

[Private to Frisk, Asriel, Maka, Hilda, Rin Tohsaka, Toriel, Wade, Zuko]

Please remain in contact throughout the day.

I'd hate to go to the trouble of locating you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[They scoff a little at the beginning of their message; an attempt was made, Partner. They're sure it wasn't nearly enough on both sides. They could volley something back, maybe. Perhaps something like- Then I guess we're pretty boned, or maybe jokes aren't my forte, tibia honest.

But that feels a little too much like admitting to something.]

I'm still looking. Nothing with the statues; the book is still by the Papyrus it was near before.

Telescope's here as well.

Stay in Sans' room, please.

[Stay in that room. The command, even with all its edges gently dulled by their Partner, drops low and familiar in Frisk's stomach. The flicker of frustration that pushes upward, however, is entirely new. Wait right there. He'll come right back. Ha ha.]

[You know how that one goes, Partner.]

He's not

[their thumb hovers uncertainly over the c, just for a heartbeat.]

here. I should help look.

[A hiss of frustration, once their text comes through. Despite their own intentions, Chara turns on their heel, immediately dashing back the way they came.]

At least wait for me.

[Don't leave me again.]

[Could be that same, sick twist of - desperate something that has Chara tearing back through the castle towards them, letting Frisk hear the unwritten plea. Wouldn't bother responding, otherwise. The point's been made; their Partner simply gets extra consideration.]

ok

[Just. Ok.]

[Sans' bed is a catastrophe of blankets and sheets. Smells like bones. Somehow inviting, but Frisk doesn't dare allow themself the danger of curling up in a twist of blankets, no matter how the thought tempts them. Maybe too familiar. Over the past half-year, one of the changes Frisk discovered is that it's easier to think, when the bed is empty. So much easier than the weight of a skeletal arm curled over your shoulders, weighing down your thoughts.]

[The bed is empty now. And Frisk doesn't want to think.]

[So they wait.]

Edited 2016-07-16 22:40 (UTC)

[Sans' new room is hardly unfamiliar to them; they've been in there more times than the skeleton knows.

And yet, despite everything, it's still an absolute mess. For someone who's potentially as unmotivated as Sans, he really does know how to turn everything into a trash heap. Chara looks to that after looking at Frisk first (breathe. They're fine.), restless fingers tapping against their pant legs before they start forward with a soft scoff of disgust.

How many of these clothes are just things he's pulled out of the wardrobe and dropped on the floor?]

He's not here, Frisk.

[They don't just mean this room.]

I know. [Terse; or as much as Frisk can be, with no real threat of fire behind it. They're looking at the far wall, legs hanging over the side of the bed. Their hands are curled over the mattress edge, tangled in the loose sheets. They make no move to extricate them as their gaze slides, slowly, to their Partner.]

Chara.

[pause. Their eyes move away just as quickly. Land on a crumpled t-shirt, and they vaguely note that it looks washed.]

[They'll just say it.]

Do you think he's... mad?

[At you. At me. At us.]

[in a way, in the way they try to pass as hope, mad is better than the alternative.]

Edited 2016-07-18 04:07 (UTC)

[Considering the circumstances, Frisk can likely be forgiven for their emotional transgressions. As is, Chara's not even paying attention; not at first. Too busy collecting an item of clothing off the floor, sniffing the fabric with all the air of someone entirely desensitized to doing so; it's not like Sans has armpits, so the real indicator to how dirty his clothes are comes in how strongly they smell of ketchup and grease.

Pause. Slowly, Chara folds the shirt over one arm, reaching for a pair of slacks they know he's probably never worn in his life.]

Don't be stupid.

Why would he ever be mad at you?

I don't know.

[A shrug, noncommittal. Their hands travel to fold in their lap.]

[They don't always know.]

[Anyway. Chara's activities haven't gone unnoticed; Frisk watches them pull a pair of slacks up from the ground with a mild sort of acknowledgement in their expression. When Frisk and Sans had shared a room, they'd long given up trying to keep his space tidy - in turn, he'd done his best to keep stray socks and garbage out of their side. Frisk is fully aware just how quickly Sans can inflict catastrophic discord on a room. This space is... below standards.]

[Watching Chara methodically collect his strewn items, Frisk is wondering if there isn't a reason for that.]

[They slide off the bed quietly; smooth out the rumples in the sheets. One glance over their shoulder as they speak, aimed at grease-stained lump near Chara's foot.]

Toss me that pillow.

Well he wouldn't be.

[So don't spare it another thought. Chara goes to comply with their request, letting out a soft sound of disgust before pulling the cover from it, and tossing it into the small pile of things that actually do need to be cleaned. They're sure that pile will grow larger as they go.]

Whatever he's doing, at the very least he's gotten out of cleaning his room.

[They're sure he'd be quite happy to know that. They can't quite find the humor in it, though.

One pillow coming right up, Partner.]

[He wouldn't be. Frisk turns over the possibility in their chest, testing the way it squeezes between their ribs. Who the reassurance is coming from. How much of it, really, comes from a place they're a little bit too attached to. Then they let it go.]

[Sans wouldn't be. That does sound like him.]

[They catch the pillow full-bodied, clasping it against their torso as they twist and release it onto the bed. Tug it into place at the headboard, where it looks a little cleaner without the stains to the cover. Frisk leans over the bed, back turned to their Partner, and begins straightening the sheets methodically.]

[After a few moments of busy silence, they slowly draw up. Fold the lip of the blanket downwards.]

I used to do this before.

[Before.]

Let me start helping.

[Before.

Chara's lips twitch. It's not a smile.]

It's easier on the evenings he decides to go stargazing. Now that he has a balcony, that might hazard more of a problem.

[Frisk may have done this- before, but neither of them really have any reason to be in the room when he isn't, now. And Chara's hardly going to waltz through and work on his mess with the skeleton looking over their shoulder.]

We could keep look out, I suppose. Text one another when an opening presents itself.

[Incognito. Frisk would probably appreciate the air of conspiratorial secrecy it has.]

[Text] Haha freaking out what do you mean no one's freaking out this is fine-

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