[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.]
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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?