Frisk, too. Everyone does it. It's different when you do it, Chara. The choices they made while part of them was missing? Proof they're evil, proof they're not human. Mistakes they're still responsible for. They don't get to shrug it off with "but I couldn't recognize compassion anymore" or "don't think of that as really me" or "at the time I didn't realize." But Frisk? Oh, their hands are clean. They didn't lose their memories, their ability to love, their powers of logic, but surely they didn't have to use any of those, right? They're helpless. Bent to the whims of a vile, puppeteering demon.
But they're not an angel, they're not above consequences. They summon a Chara that wants nothing but LOVE, but that's not what they think of Chara, right? They're better than that now. They're so much better, in fact, that charitably, benevolently, they forgive Chara. For manipulating them. For forcing them into this against their will, right? Just like they're always doing.
And that's not enough. No, they have to pull from the script. Ha ha, Chara, remember your brother? The one who's gone now? Those words must have hurt, so might as well recycle them for my own purposes! Have to twist Asriel's words, have to turn them against Chara like a weapon. Turning the precious few memories they hold onto into a leash again. They're not behaving, so their attachments get wrenched into the bars of a kennel. Meant to hold them.
Just like the first time they died. How very fitting.
Foolish, though. They know how the script ended. They know what those lines lead to. The one saying them wasn't allowed to win. They were just a build-up to while, Frisk, you... are the type of friend I always wished I had. They were a hollow, stupid lie. Flattery toward someone better, someone more deserving, just with the wrong name thinly painted over it.
Chara uncurls.
The look on their face, though, is nothing short of black, vicious loathing. They shoot out from under the bed with all the sudden fury of a striking viper, reach the door in four sharp, furious strides. Slam it in Frisk's stupid face, with nothing more to say to that ploy than a vehement-]
no subject
Frisk, too. Everyone does it. It's different when you do it, Chara. The choices they made while part of them was missing? Proof they're evil, proof they're not human. Mistakes they're still responsible for. They don't get to shrug it off with "but I couldn't recognize compassion anymore" or "don't think of that as really me" or "at the time I didn't realize." But Frisk? Oh, their hands are clean. They didn't lose their memories, their ability to love, their powers of logic, but surely they didn't have to use any of those, right? They're helpless. Bent to the whims of a vile, puppeteering demon.
But they're not an angel, they're not above consequences. They summon a Chara that wants nothing but LOVE, but that's not what they think of Chara, right? They're better than that now. They're so much better, in fact, that charitably, benevolently, they forgive Chara. For manipulating them. For forcing them into this against their will, right? Just like they're always doing.
And that's not enough. No, they have to pull from the script. Ha ha, Chara, remember your brother? The one who's gone now? Those words must have hurt, so might as well recycle them for my own purposes! Have to twist Asriel's words, have to turn them against Chara like a weapon. Turning the precious few memories they hold onto into a leash again. They're not behaving, so their attachments get wrenched into the bars of a kennel. Meant to hold them.
Just like the first time they died. How very fitting.
Foolish, though. They know how the script ended. They know what those lines lead to. The one saying them wasn't allowed to win. They were just a build-up to while, Frisk, you... are the type of friend I always wished I had. They were a hollow, stupid lie. Flattery toward someone better, someone more deserving, just with the wrong name thinly painted over it.
Chara uncurls.
The look on their face, though, is nothing short of black, vicious loathing. They shoot out from under the bed with all the sudden fury of a striking viper, reach the door in four sharp, furious strides. Slam it in Frisk's stupid face, with nothing more to say to that ploy than a vehement-]
Go to hell!