[In potentia is enough, isn't it? There's a saying, one said by some dead genius or another. Something about how repeating the same actions and expecting a different result is... it's crazy, right? Crazy. Frisk reaches out to somebody, and they end up getting hurt. Have to say "it's okay" like it didn't ache, because it was an accident, they're really a nice person once you look past the hitting, they surely only have your best interests at heart. Chara dares to imagine they can be near people, can be human, can be loved, and they only end up damaging the people who matter to them. Can't be anything but a weapon. Poison. A weed, sprouting where it isn't wanted, messing up the beauty of anywhere it dares to grow. Like one exists to kill, and one exists to be killed.
Even without a Reset, there's no moving forward. There's no changing fate.
Why did this happen?
They sit back down on their bed. Sink into it heavily. They just... they just feel devoid. They feel every inch like their broken SOUL. Incomplete, not right, in pieces. Straining without closure. Disjointed shards trying to reach out, but... but not enough of them exists to achieve a secure, comforting gestalt.]
I'm nothing like you.
[Similar fashion choices, and that's it. Ha ha, isn't that right, Asriel?]
It's... funny, is it not? I cannot seem to have anything unless I take away from you.
[They weren't the one who carried the Locket and Knife to Wonderland, but they're the one who wears them. Frisk had to go and offer half their room to a walking consequence. Frisk can never call Toriel "mom" again, because Chara steals away the love Frisk deserves, forces them to play scapegoat for all the horrible violent will that Chara was responsible for.]
I'm just like monsters, but not in the way I want to be.
[They'll never be made of love and compassion. It was stupid to get their hopes up about magic that could communicate, could warm but never burn.
They're Toriel's shrill, betrayed giggles, the manic agony as she crows that they really are no different from them.]
no subject
Even without a Reset, there's no moving forward. There's no changing fate.
Why did this happen?
They sit back down on their bed. Sink into it heavily. They just... they just feel devoid. They feel every inch like their broken SOUL. Incomplete, not right, in pieces. Straining without closure. Disjointed shards trying to reach out, but... but not enough of them exists to achieve a secure, comforting gestalt.]
I'm nothing like you.
[Similar fashion choices, and that's it. Ha ha, isn't that right, Asriel?]
It's... funny, is it not? I cannot seem to have anything unless I take away from you.
[They weren't the one who carried the Locket and Knife to Wonderland, but they're the one who wears them. Frisk had to go and offer half their room to a walking consequence. Frisk can never call Toriel "mom" again, because Chara steals away the love Frisk deserves, forces them to play scapegoat for all the horrible violent will that Chara was responsible for.]
I'm just like monsters, but not in the way I want to be.
[They'll never be made of love and compassion. It was stupid to get their hopes up about magic that could communicate, could warm but never burn.
They're Toriel's shrill, betrayed giggles, the manic agony as she crows that they really are no different from them.]
I expect you to pay the price for my happiness.