fulllifeconsequences

[They contemplate, chewing on the tip of their pencil as they consider it. Magic and items from other worlds. They brighten slightly as the pencil begins to tap against the side of the page with a renewed vigor.]

There's...Sirius. I dunno if you know him, but he can use magic and says lots of people can from his world. Like it's, um, genetic? I think he said?

[Frisk hesitates for only a moment before pushing their notebook off their lap and sliding off the bed again, pausing only to shake the hair from their eyes.]

I know. I know you won't. But magic can be kinda - I mean, a lot of monsters didn't even mean to hurt me. They were just using bullets to say hello. Still hurt when they hit.

Yeah, I know him. He called me a Muggopuff, or something?

[It's been a while, and the words he bandied around totally sounded like something he just made up on the spot, in Chara's opinion. Like there's really a school named Pigchunks or whatever. Can't bullshit a bullshitter, guy!

And speaking of being a bullshitter, there's a what happened to "I could never be afraid of you lurking in the back of their throat right now, because Frisk... huh, Frisk thinks Chara'll hurt them if they make it a proper enemy encounter?

They stay quiet. It's... yeah, anyone would be scared Chara'll hurt them.]

Whatever. Be a baby, then. I'll start a fight with myself. If you want something done right, then don't bother asking for help.

I didn't say no.

[Frisk folds their arms over their chest, raising their eyebrows skeptically. They're standing up and everything, ready to go should that be where things head. They can finish up their drawing later. Maybe pin it up above Chara's bed when they aren't here. Surely they wouldn't remove something that cool from their walls, right?

The reprimand is gentle, though, and Frisk had already made up their mind.]

I just mean be careful. FIGHT and MERCY are straightforward, but we don't know what magic can do when it's coming from you instead of at you.

[Gosh, if Frisk's okay with it... Chara gets to their feet, holds up their empty, knifeless hands one more time just so Frisk can be Double Sure, and gets to work.

The world seems to flicker, color draining from the edges of their vision as they pluck Frisk into combat - real, proper combat, the way the Underground knew it. The kind of formality that Wonderland didn't seem to have any need for, but still something they remember. In front of them, Frisk. Illuminated by the warm saturation of a SOUL in full bloom, red and whole and bright. Hovering in front of their own chest, something sickeningly inferior. Less than an eighth of a SOUL, not enough to make out a coherent heart shape. Broken fragments, shuddering and straining for each other, but lacking the strength to fuse back into one.

But that's not what's important now.

...They can't resist.

ACT. * Check

* FRISK - 0 ATK 0 DEF
* Good at Sticking to their morals.]

You're still not wearing any armor? Those gross bandages aren't even worth any DEF.

...Um, no sign of any spellcasting in the ACT list. The ACT option isn't gone, either.

[And there it is, the heart-stopping beat of combat being initiated, and the warm pop of their SOUL becoming manifest. More ritualistic and turn-based like this, unlike the hurried, frantic combat they've engaged in Wonderland. Your turn, my turn. You attack, and I attack. An exchange of bullets, and an exchange of words.

Chara's SOUL is...hard to look at, at first. But Frisk regards it evenly. They've seen worse things.]

No. I, I guess I should sometime.

[Maybe Zacharie could help with that one too. He had those things called "tunics," right? Good for defensive equipment. Something better than bandages around their hands.]

Hm...what about in your stats?

Can't view those during an encounter.

[That's a menu meant for the overworld - wait, no, for... what's an overworld? Why would they go and assign a word like that to the Underground?

Snap apart the bones of the world too often, and maybe those cracks don't knit together all the way.]

You can, though. It is your turn, is it not? You could try a check, too.

[Your turn, my turn. They have to play by the rules.]

...Perhaps I could knit you something else. I can understand why the hat's a no-go, but it's not like I'm suffering from a shortage of yarn, is it?

[Can they even perform a * Check without Chara helping them? The menu's there, but...it might just be something unhelpful like "The First Fallen Human" or "Your best friend" or something.]

I could Check, but I don't think it'll be very helpful. You always helped me with Checks.

[Still, they perform one regardless.

ACT.

* Check.

* It's me, Chara.
* The First Fallen Human.
* 99 ATK, 99 DEF.

But that's nothing they didn't already know. Frisk shakes their head morosely.]

Yeah, it just tells me stuff about you I already know. I dunno if I can actually see new stuff without you helping me.

[The hat's a no-go. Hah...yeah, they just. They don't think Toriel would take kindly to it, and it hurts a little bit to think about it. The hat had been such a thoughtful gift, and they can't even wear it for fear of incurring something in Toriel.]

I was thinking of asking Zacharie, maybe. He had some stuff like that.

[Well, that's interesting. They're learning more about the mechanics in this world even when it isn't their turn! Maybe it's something about Frisk themselves. Maybe it's an unwillingness to dig, to seek out the things a monster is willing to tell them about their stats, to go a level further in understanding the world.

* 18 left.

Maybe Frisk really couldn't do that sort of reality-bending? How had their mirror known about sprites, then?

Confusing to think about.]

A wise choice! Who knows what armor from other worlds could do? Maybe your stats could even go beyond 99.

[Chara's turn, then. Their consciousness flickers left and right, roving over the same four options that have always been there. FIGHT, ACT, ITEM, MERCY. They can't see a spellcasting option, no matter how far right or left they go.

But... it must be there somewhere, surely? They clench their fists, sink their teeth in, start digging. They know about the atrophied, sketchy button, an ancient relic that had never had a home on their interface, but they don't know if that can even be used. Perhaps... if they can whisper notes into the code, can implant "your humble servant" at the beginning of it all, can will a telltale file into existence... perhaps they have the power to change something else? To... to maybe not pull a Floweytale, but...

They hover over the ACT button, uncertain. Then, instead of tugging right or left, they try to pull downward. Modify a crumbling, scribbled button into something sharpened, polished, usable.

It flares into their consciousness, and they seize on it triumphantly.]

Frisk, there's an option here! I found it! Can... should I try a spell? I don't know what might happen, but I could... try to aim away from you?

You - you did it!

[Maybe it's because they remember, recognize it from the way the other Chara did. Digging out from the very skeletal leftovers of the way things were, disused buttons and images buried in the code. But just as their Mirror had reacted, eyes widening in shock and outrage as the world buckled and remade itself in that instant, Frisk feels themselves bounce on the balls of their feet, hands clapping together excitedly.]

Yes! Yeah, that's exactly how they did it!

[They hesitate only a moment, glancing at their bandaged hands, their full red SOUL, and then nod firmly.]

I can always dodge. Or, um, here.

[They let a SAVE glimmer softly into existence - mid-battle, never something that would've been allowed back home, but Wonderland allows them to circumvent those rules and restrictions.]

Whenever you're ready!

[Frisk's protected by a SAVE, so even if something goes wrong, it'll be fine, won't it? There's no other way for them to see what it is they're capable of, so there's nothing left to do but go through with it. They have to admit that they're curious. Maybe... maybe the potential for fire magic is already inside of them? Maybe some trace of Asriel still lingers within their heart, a remnant of their time fused into one creature, and it... ha ha, maybe they could pull out a Star Blazing. Wouldn't that be something?]

Here goes nothing. Chara readies Shocker Breaker?

[SPELL.

* null

* La, la. Time to wake up and smell the pain.
* Though.... It's still a little shaky.
* fhuehfuehfuehfuheufhe

Their awareness falls out from underneath them like a trapdoor, stumbling over a crack in reality. A variable fails to be called up. A flag does not exist. No pointers found. Not digging up a remnant, something [REDACTED] or scribbly and rough and unused. Trying to harness something incomplete, something shoved in from another world and not yet defined.

They lock up as they try to call on a spell that

What erupts from their outstretched hand is not fire or stars or determination. It's the crackling white noise of absence, purged data, Lost Souls.]

[Chara selects the option, and Frisk waits.

They don't need to wait long before they realize something has just gone horribly, horribly wrong. Like the state of their mind as they call up things that should not be called up, the psychedelic scream of static smearing over obscured faces. It burns, blisters the air like something terrible and wrong and Frisk tries to swing out of the way with a practiced twist of a heel, but -

* But it appears everywhere you look.]

What's -

[It hits them squarely in the chest no matter where they go. Frisk's eyes widen, their expression frozen in shock.

19/20 HP
* It's so cold.
05/20 HP
* It's so c o l d.
-999999999999999/20 HP]

Stop, [Frisk pants, their SOUL jolting and wavering like it's caught, like it's simultaneously shattering and holding together and some of it is painful but the rest just feels like the tingle of static shearing through a limb that's fallen asleep.

* You reach for your SAVE file.
* SAVE C̣̰̺̱̊̒ͤ̅ͫO͕̘̻̲̗R͖͙ͯ͋͟R̦͐̆ͮ̊̚U̲̙̬P̴̤͔̄͑T͂ͩ͋̿E̟̿͌̊̌Ḏ̰̗͕̻̯͆͌̌̈̒̅.̧̤̙̲͍̮ͣ͐.̣̬ͥ̀.̠̜̠̞ͣ̽ͧ]

[They don't so much fall back into themselves as batter their way forcibly back into a dense, heavy abyss. Feels - feels like they could have frozen indefinitely, reduced to an Echo Flower chirping "Error!" forever, unable to move to the next line when this one could not be resolved. Force restart, reboot, QUIT.

They crash back into awareness. Snap their hand shut, press it against their chest like it's a dangerous weapon that has to be restrained, stagger back until the backs of their knees bump up against their legs.]

Frisk?

[What did they - what have they done?]

Frisk, are you... did...

LOAD. Undo this. You'll be okay, just...

[They're not hurt, are they? For a moment Frisk just shakes their head numbly, though their expression is still locked in a sustained frieze of their astonishment and fear.

They don't hurt. They crouch there with one hand clasped over their SOUL as it fizzles there, torn between two forces opposed. Breaking and not breaking.]

I can't.

[* You reach for your SAVE file...

Again, the hard glimmer of foreign words spring in front of them.

* S̶̷̲̅A̶̷̲̅V̶̷̲̅E̶̷̲̅ C̶̷̲̅O̶̷̲̅R̶̷̲̅R̶̷̲̅U̶̷̲̅P̶̷̲̅T̶̷̲̅E̶̷̲̅D̶̷̲̅.

Frisk's vision swims out of focus briefly as their brows knit together, eyes glazing, and then snapping back to regard Chara with a strange curiosity.]

You can't LOAD when you're dead.

[But they're not dead. It's just like their SOUL can't decide which way it's going to go, and until it does, they can't pull on that power to anchor them.]

[There's a mounting sense of horror clawing its way up Chara's windpipe, constricting each breath. Frisk's SOUL looks... that shaky Schroedinger existence looks like the constant paradoxical ache Chara's broken SOUL knows all too well. Did they break Frisk?

Did they break Frisk?]

Maybe it's just... maybe you haven't gathered enough determination?

[Maybe it'll go away on its own? Maybe it'll heal like bruises do, maybe it's just the shallow kind of cut that doesn't leave a scar behind.]

You're not dead. It's definitely not because you're dead. You're right here. You're alive, you're right here.

[Breathe, focus, think. Fix it. Fix it.]

Should I... should I call Alphys, perhaps? She's an expert on SOULs and DT.

[She knows about things that try to exist, but don't exist at all.]

Maybe she'd know what this is.

It's like...no damage. And all damage. Both at once?

[They cup their hands cautiously around it, the way it spritzes like it's about to break but doesn't. It feels strange, fragile, like their belly is full of nails jabbing softly at their gut, ants running through their bones.

It won't...]

It doesn't hurt, [Frisk says oddly.] It's like it's just - like it can't decide what to do.

[When you're hit with something that essentially amounts to a concentrated ERROR in magic form, perhaps that isn't so surprising. Still. Still, this maybe wasn't the best idea.]

[THIS MIGHT HAVE BEEN THE WORST IDEA SINCE W.D. GASTER DECIDED TO DO A SICK OLLIE INTO THE CORE]

Maybe we can heal you, then?

[If both halves of a coin that's standing on its edge point to "a positive number of hit points," then maybe that'll... cancel it out? Tip the scales back to stability? There's no such thing as having less than 0 HP, so just about any healing item could do. Unequipping a bandage and using it, eating... there must be some sort of monster food around somewhere, now that there are so many monsters around, right?]

Or... Frisk, all we'd have to do is restore the lost data, right? SAVE it - SAVE yourself. You've got that kind of power, haven't you?

[They both came from the timeline where Frisk discovered they could SAVE people. Surely that power wasn't as conditional as a hypothetical ERASE, surely the fact they're still the same LV 1 no-EXP Frisk they were that whole time means that it's still in reach. So, so this is fine! Right? Everything is fine!]

[ERROR: SAVE NOT FOUND
ERROR: SAVE NOT FOUND
ERROR: SAVE NOT FOUND
ERROR:

Okay, they think they get the idea. Is this determination still holding them together? Or does their SOUL simply not know what to do when faced with this kind of unreality?

Frisk squinches their eyebrows together. Their SAVE file is...well, it might as well be gone, made unavailable to them.

So perhaps they can...SAVE something else?]

I've never had to SAVE myself.

[Their tone is dubious? Can they? Can they do that kind of thing if Chara isn't there to help? Determination supplementing determination - what gives them that option on their menu? A moment that's suitably dramatic? A person worth SAVING? What if they aren't worth SAVING?

They don't have time for an emotional crisis on top of a technical one. They don't.

Their SOUL wavers, pulsing with a crimson light weakly.]

I don't know if I can - not without you.

[They don't - they don't even know what Frisk is on about. That power was always theirs alone. Gone for a long time, right? Chara never had the power to create, to protect, to support. Only to destroy. It'd be a waste of time for Frisk to even try to argue otherwise - look whose fault it is that Frisk's like this right now! This wouldn't have happened at all if Chara hadn't gotten these impossible delusions of fire magic, of cozy hearths that warm but don't burn and golden-brown pie crusts.

Arguing would be a waste of time, and who knows how long this suspended-animation stalemate will last. They cram it aside, just... just play along. Fake it.]

* You call out to your friends with all your heart. From somewhere, you felt their support...

You're not doing it without me, Frisk. I'm right here, am I not?

[So, even if they can't reach their SAVE file... surely, they still have the power to SAVE something else.]

You have made memories worth cherishing, haven't you? The kind of attachments that can restore what's lost itself.

You're right here.

[* You think about why you're here...

They're here because they wanted to do something nice for someone they loved. Wanted to make them feel happy, included. Did it fail? Did it backfire? They hurt, a little bit, but mostly they just feel odd, on the verge of dying and not. Dying and simultaneously feeling fine, better than fine, stronger than they've ever been.

Why are they here?

They look at Chara, really look at them and how they're so scared and worried and how they must be blaming themself for this, of course they are, it's precisely what Frisk would do. They look at them and...

* Maybe you can SAVE something else.

SAVE themself?

But they're not worth SAVING.

It had been SAVING someone else that had spurred them on, having someone who could feed those memories of Asriel into them and remind them how he was kind, how he was gentle, how he had smiled and drawn pictures with them and been safe.

SAVE something else.

SAVE the person that knitted a hat with soft ears and horns, like a Dreemurr. The person that offered them a square of chocolate and a juicebox and fought bitterly through everything the world threw at them just to keep Frisk safe. The person that balanced inexpertly on their shoulders with a trenchcoat wrapped around the pair of them, that hissed that you're my family as if it were simply a given, that wears their bracelet always. They imagine...imagine that they need SAVING. Don't they?

They look at Chara with a strange wonderment.

And just like that, it opens to them, pulsing and variegated and glowing.

Their hand hovers over the button hesitantly, almost reverently, until at last:

* SAVE.

Their SOUL fills with a peculiar light, and the room's colors flood back into existence, coloring away the encounter with its shades of black-and-white and green.]

[Chara watches with held breath, nails digging into their anxious palms. At this moment in time, they hate being separate, being in a flesh prison (ha ha) without a cellmate, being locked out of Frisk's thoughts. They don't know what Frisk is drawing on, don't know for sure that it's working, can't see their menus any more than they could see Sans' or Undyne's or Asgore's.

But the power to SAVE someone... it relied on memories and love, didn't it? Things you treasure. And there's... there's no limit to the things about Frisk that are worth cherishing. They must know that, even when they hate themselves. They must have things that made them glad they were here, because their only death here was an accident. Because they decided they'd rather stay here than go home.

Celebrating a birthday - a real birthday, with a real party. Everyone came. Extending a hand to your consequence, your responsibility, a problem you'd prayed was laid to rest and telling it that it could stay with you. Being held, being leaned on, being understood. Being the reason someone stayed, changed their mind about doing something cowardly. Laughing about inside jokes. Having a family. Having a room that's theirs, full of their drawings and their treasures and their shirts, a place that's safe. A place they belong. They're all... there's so much Frisk could anchor themselves with, right? It'll be fine. It's going to be fine.

Something happens. The color leeches back into the world, and the both of them are left there, Chara pressing their nails in harder, harder, forcefully choking out the impulse to reach for Frisk, to try and, what, cradle their SOUL in scarred, rough fingers? Touching would make it worse. Would break it again. Don't touch. Don't touch.]

Is - is it... did it work?

[Frisk's fingers flex gently over the area of their chest where their SOUL resides, no longer hovering outside where it could be so easily struck. They blink a few times, grounding themselves, grounding the way they stand in the room. They can't tell if things are normal, yet. Can't tell if their HP isn't wavering that in-between state. It must not be anymore, right? They SAVED it. SAVED...someone else.

Saying "someone else" is easier than naming the person you want to SAVE, isn't it?

Slowly, tentatively, they reach out for their SAVE.

* LOAD failed.
* SAVE ᴄ̶̷̲̅ᴏ̶̷̲̅ʀ̶̷̲̅ʀ̶̷̲̅ᴜ̶̷̲̅ᴘ̶̷̲̅ᴛ̶̷̲̅ᴇ̶̷̲̅ᴅ̶̷̲̅
* No data available.

That's familiar. The way the Memoryhead loomed out at them and then promptly vanished - vanished from the Lab, from the Underground, from everything but their inventory, provided they let the Bad Memory slide easily into one of those precious eight slots. So that's...that doesn't work, does it? Maybe that whole stretch of time is just unavailable to them. Denied to them. Like trying to dial an unserviced number. There's no data to draw from, or the data is so corrupt that it's irretrievable.

So they try another route. They're good at dodging. At creating workarounds. And they drive a new bright golden stake into place, wiping away the last one with a spike of determination.

* File SAVED.]

I think so?

[They curl and uncurl their fingers, one by one. Tense each muscle in their legs and arms and middle, twist their head cautiously from one side to the next. They don't feel strange anymore. Don't feel like their whole body is made of television snow, or like they're stuck between dead and not dead anymore. And they can't SAVE if they're dying so...so it must have worked, right?]

I don't feel like I did before?

Edited 2016-10-01 07:35 (UTC)

[They can feel another SAVE being pressed into existence, and they don't know if it's a relief or if they're terrified it's a mistake. There's no going back to before this happened, no erasing these effects completely. Is that okay? Is that really okay, or is... is Frisk just doomed?

Why did they... why did they even have to be like this? Why didn't they learn from their mistakes? They love Frisk, so they trick Frisk into giving them things. Make Frisk start an encounter, make them fight even if they don't want to. They take something that's supposed to be comforting and happy and turn it into a weapon.

They give Asgore a pie. They tell Asriel he can be like Hyperdeath for real, can be strong, can free everyone, can be a hero. They tell Frisk "thank you" and fill their head with nonsense scenarios about being like a real Dreemurr, not a parasite, truly one of them - and for what? Look what happened.

* Look what you've done.

They know. They always knew. They're dangerous, poisonous, take everything pure and kind that's given to them and twist it into something awful and horrible and just break things beyond repair. Why did they even hope-

Big kids don't cry. Chara never says "I'm sorry," because "sorry" is never, ever good enough. They can't undo this, can't right this, can't make it okay - that power was never theirs. So what... what do they do with this feeling? How do they...

Chara smiles brightly.]

Well! I'm never doing that again!

[Can't even think of a joke, of a punchline to showcase the fact that they don't care, they're not taking this seriously, they'll all laugh about it later instead of regretting it for the entire rest of their unnatural, unwanted unlife! So they just dust their hands off, shrug.]

You're certain you're unhurt? Perhaps you'd better get into bed. Rest a while, even just for two minutes. That's enough to make sure your HP is where it should be, is it not? Better safe than sorry; you've only got four more deaths before they start to really count, right?

Chara. I'm okay.

[Frisk says the words gently, and as if that's what their body had been waiting for, there's a rush as the feeling returns to their SOUL and the rest of them, the reality that grounds them and roots them firmly back into the way they know existence should feel. No longer just outside their body or a few inches to the left of it. There, present. Real.

Frisk steps forward, one hand half-raised, their brow furrowing with concern.

Chara, they know, isn't okay. They'll find a way to twist this around into blaming themselves, they know it. They know it because it's precisely what Frisk would do.]

It's okay. It's fine. It didn't work, but that doesn't mean - I mean, that's because maybe we didn't know how to work it.

[Trying a SPELL option that until recently didn't technically exist, and without any real basis to what spell they were casting. Of course it didn't go right. It wouldn't have. Right?]

...are you okay?

[Are they okay? What a stupid question. They're not the one getting hurt, paying prices, sacrificing. They're the one who takes. Sucks the life right out of everyone willing to trust them, just like leeches do! They just - they laugh, incredulously.]

My HP's the same as it's always been! You're not deflecting this onto me, Frisk.

[It's not about them.

They made the mistake, they inflicted hurt, so they're the one who has to do something about it. Maybe - maybe what's-his face... Zacharie? Maybe he can take it back somehow. Refund the orb, revoke the magic now that Chara's proven they definitely can't be trusted with it.]

Just... just a little rest? Perhaps a snack. More bandages. Maybe I could manage a healing spell!

[There it is! Found a joke! The kind of awful, scary punchline that makes people wince, that makes them pretend not to hear those hilarious lines about a kid who slept in the soil. You know, they almost broke Frisk, almost... almost Gastered them, almost did something so incomprehensible and awful that surely nothing on earth could fix it if Frisk didn't have the power to fix themselves! But it's no big deal! Everyone's laughing! Like it's just a big game, right? Who even cares!]

I feel all right, Chara, it's fine.

[Maybe not one hundred percent okay, but that's - that's all right too. They did kind of break both their menus, a little bit. The world doesn't it like it when they drive at its formation with chisels and stakes, it seems like.

They smile. It's a little weak, but it's there, small and hopeful.]

I think just...just that we need to learn how to use stuff like this, a little bit. It's like getting, getting whiplash, you know? Like overextending yourself and getting burned for it.

[Is this all right? Are they making sense? Are they just saying words to fill the void with something so intent on being comforting that it's, in essence, comfortless? That seems to be something they do frequently. Way too frequently.]

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SAVE 1.0

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SAVE 2.0

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