fulllifeconsequences

I kill, or I'm killed.

[Duh. They stop smiling only long enough to stare at the bottle in Frisk's hand, completely surprised they would have anything at all to do with cleaning up after something like this. Aren't they worried about their own hands getting dirty?

Slowly, confusion written in every inch of the gesture, they permit it. Let Frisk have their foul, bloody hands.]

Both are viable options, are they not? So stop looking so nervous. We both knew it would end up like this.

[Grim, silent, Frisk takes over, helping to wash clean the blood and grime. The cut on Chara's head looks particularly nasty, and it would generally indicate - they are talking about someone who killed themselves, unfortunately - that there was some kind of struggle.]

Those aren't the only options. [Really, they're trying not to sound as distraught as they are, but their heart started thumping the second that post went up and it hasn't calmed down since.] You couldn't have done anything else? Stalled, or run away, or anything?

[It feels stupid. Immediately they want to yank themselves away. They should have stalled... until what? He got bored of attempted homicide? Run away... to where? He'd come armed, he'd snuck up, almost had them dead before they knew what happened. This was premeditated, planned, deliberate. Not something hiding would solve. Calling for help, undignified pleading... covered that one already.]

Maybe I should have asked my friends for help, Frisk? Should have tried a little harder to trick someone into believing I'm human?

Who do you think sent him in the first place?

What -

[Frisk pauses, eyes again drifting up to the cut, clean and vicious. Deliberate, for certain. They almost reach out to touch it, but again, they tamp down the instinct at once.]

What are you talking about? You think someone sent him? [They've known Chara has been active around the network, but they can hardly begrudge them for that. They can't afford to keep tabs on every interaction their counterpart has, as much as they've felt the temptation to. It would diminish what little trust still exists between them...assuming there is any.] Who was he?

[Chara shrugs. Giggles. Just a quiet, stifled, stilted one.]

Take your pick. Either a friend of a friend, or someone who spoke to me once.

[Fun to consider, huh? Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Is it that one conversation is all it takes to recognize Chara as inhuman, as not something that should exist? Or was it that this was the inevitable result of a laughably doomed attempt to get along? They never should have drawn a thing for Max. Should have torn her photos up right in front of her, just to see the look on her face when her memories turned to useless shreds.]

Isn't it hilarious, Frisk? I didn't even have to draw first blood. I didn't have to tell her what I really am. She dug that up on her own. Begged me not to hurt her or her friends. Then turned some other guy on me! Couldn't even do the dirty work alone! Guess that's human nature, huh?

[Frisk isn't sure they believe the sentiment behind that giggle. That amusement - is it just triumph over having been obliquely proven right?

This doesn't bode well for a sustained future in Wonderland. At all.

Frisk doesn't reply immediately, but resumes gently rubbing at the spots of drying blood on Chara's hands, their voice small.]

Do you know for sure that's what happened? If he was sent, or whatever you think?

Let's assume he wasn't. Then what, Frisk? He just likes to off children for the fun of it? Perhaps an evil shadowy organization kidnapped his daughter and threatened to harm her if he didn't assassinate me to further their shadowy agenda.

[Funny. It's funny. A great joke. Whenever Chara laughs... it's funny, too, because Frisk always gets that quiet look of dread on their face. It just makes Chara laugh more. Stifle it a little less well.]

Perhaps it only took one glance at me to know. To understand. To get it. It's not safe to let things like me exist! Someone has to solve the problem, right?

[It just keeps getting funnier and funnier. The gentleness of Frisk's hands, for some reason, bothers them even more than if their palms were being scrubbed raw. Maybe it tickles. Maybe that's why it's all so damn funny.]

I don't know, Frisk! You tell me. Go ahead! Make me sorry! Enlighten me!

I don't know.

[That's the long and the short of it. They don't know. They don't have any context beyond what little they glimpsed of a dying man on Wonderland's network. They don't even know his name, or his face. ~~Maybe it doesn't matter.~~]

Did you talk to him at all? Before he - [They make a vague, jerky hand motion indicating the side of Chara's head.] He attacked you?

[They need to stop laughing this off. It's hard to answer when they're this giggly. If they keep this up, they're gonna laugh SO hard they might cry. Throw up. Maybe they'll laugh so much they'll forget how to breathe and die!

Poker faces. They're good at poker faces. Swallow the laughter up like it's going into a black hole, just use the same old smile.]

I guess? I didn't know it was him, but he didn't say anything important! Just called me creepy a bunch, but... come on, right?

[Who hasn't? Who wouldn't? Look at them.]

Ask him about it. He's coming back anyway, right? Unless that was the last of his lives! What a pointless way to blow it, huh?

[It's getting harder and harder to keep this up. Chara's cheer is just getting progressively unsettling, which is exponentially worse now that Frisk knows they actually killed someone.]

Stop it!

[Chara's hands are clean. Literally, at least. Frisk isn't sure they ever will be otherwise. Frisk backs off for the moment, though that cut on their head still needs attention.]

What did you do? Why was he so mad at you?

[Whoops! They're making Frisk upset! They just. Smile. And smile, and keep smiling, and smile bigger. Now that their hands are free, they go to their hair. Start pulling and dragging, trying to unstick the matted, clumped strands. A bunch of it is stuck to their ear, and it stings like crazy. Wow, gross!]

I don't...

[It was something, right? Must have been. There's got to be something that makes this their fault. Normal people don't act like Chara, don't just kill because they can. The creepy things they said? The angry words they threw at Max after she went and snooped? Hell, maybe it was the gnomes? All he said was... just. The same stupid line, over and over.]

I'm not human enough.

That was his reason?

[Frisk isn't really sure they believe Chara, though they're not sure what reason they'd have to lie.

One thing's certain: they're going to have to talk to Sans, one on one, and soon. Does he know about this? He always seems to know what's going on even if no one tells him.]

You never met him before or anything?

[The smile is starting to hurt their face. That cut's definitely never gonna close if they keep wearing that pretty little grin. But they keep smiling regardless, as Frisk asks again. Starts to talk in circles. They already said they'd only spoken to the guy once before. Hadn't even known it was him. What is Frisk hoping they'll say now?

They're... ha. Perhaps they're just hoping they can dig deep enough to find whatever Chara did to bring this onto themselves? Make them deserve it. That must be the motive behind the disbelieving way they question Chara's answer.

Also not surprising. They're still the bad one. The killer. Poor, innocent Alex must have had justification, must have been trying to do the right thing. Chara must have been asking for it. That's what they do.]

Oh, silly me. I forgot. I ran over his entire family with a tank, then kicked him in the shins and called him a fart. Guess that explains that, huh?

[They still haven't done a thing to patch up their cut, and there's still blood on their sweater, but suddenly the lingering thought of those gentle hands is sickening. They drag their sleeve across their face, just make it worse, but who even cares? They don't want to be here anymore.]

Mystery solved. Guess we can all go home.

[They blurt, and slam the side of their fist into the closet door. Hard. It rattles, but nothing breaks, to Chara's disappointment. It's entirely incongruous with their smile and their cheery words, but who even cares?? They turn, completely ready to just walk right out of the room with their stupid face still bleeding openly.]

[Frisk jumps, and immediately regrets having pushed Chara. Whatever happened out there, it's affected them too, and there's nothing they can do for whoever their victim was right now.

They chew on their lower lip, deliberating, but they're not about to just let Chara leave like this. They reach out, catch their elbow.]

Let me take care of that. [They indicate the cut with their eyes.

They don't know what else to say. Maybe they've said enough.]

[No. Absolutely not. They'd rather bleed to death out of pure spite. Why is Frisk even offering? They already know it's Chara's fault. They already know Chara hasn't changed one bit, and won't ever change. They already know the worst possible thing has happened. So what is even the point?

Anyway, they don't even care! They barely even feel pain at all! It doesn't even hurt!

...But even when they're furious and impulse and just want to be gone, they know. This is the only place they can go with a door that locks. Someone out there's gonna find the body. Everyone else is gonna know Chara is a demon. They'll have to be ready to fight.

Unwillingly, begrudgingly, they relent. Stop. Look away, scour at the cut with their sleeve again.]

Fine. If you must.

[Frisk sighs, reaches over to the rubbing alcohol again, and pours some onto one of the swabs. Their movements are far too practiced, familiar. They had to do this too many times, before and after they fell into the hole at Mount Ebott's summit.]

This'll sting.

[No doubt Chara doesn't need it said aloud, but it's a courtesy. They start dabbing gently at the laceration, brow knitting. They don't want to turn this into a one-sided interrogation, but there are a lot of questions that remain unanswered.]

You came straight here after?

[It doesn't sting. They don't care. They don't care so hard that the flinching that's happening is obviously all just a mysterious optical illusion. You'd think they'd be used to it, just as used as Frisk, but some things just don't die easily.]

No. I skipped around the halls for several hours until I collapsed of blood loss.

[Of course they came straight here, idiot.]

This is the only place that's safe. Where else would I go looking like this?

That's not what I meant.

[The cut's in too awkward a place for a band-aid, but Frisk can't keep sponging away the blood even if the flow has begun to slow.]

The - the person you - [They don't finish the sentence, but they don't think they need to.] If he was human, he didn't just... [You know. Poof.]

Ashes to ashes? No. Not quite.

I just left him there. Didn't know how people coming back works here. Can you imagine burying him and having him wake up again? Condemned to die suffocating and alone deep under the ground?

[All right, that...that makes sense. Frisk nods shakily, their hands trembling subtly as they tape a bandage somewhat clumsily over the laceration.]

I think it's supposed to be...proportional to how many times you've died. [It's hard to talk about it. They take a breath, close their eyes, keep going.] If it was the first time, it'd take one day. I don't know what happens after five. [They're not sure if anyone does.]

[They hold still for Frisk, at least. That cut is plenty close to their eye, and they don't wanna give those jittery hands an invitation to miss.]

So it can't be the same body, then. After five days, that'd be way too gross.

Huh. Guess I'd better go shove his body under a bush or something.

[Funny jokes will surely make it easier to talk about, right Frisk? Chara's having a blast talking about it, anyway. And now that they've got one more bandage equipped, they pick up where they left off: they stop to grab a knife -- Alex's, that one's less messy -- and then neatly turn to get out of here. Away from Frisk and their stupid probing.

Oh. But. Eh, they've probably guessed by now anyway, since Chara's still just as horrible as they've always been, but:]

No SOUL showed up. I guess you were right about that part.

[Frisk's hands drop to their sides, slack and disappointed. They don't want to turn this into another battle for who can SAVE over whoever's chosen path.]

You're sure he was human, or monster?

[They step forward, slowly. Not blocking the way, not following. Not yet.]

Maybe he was a demon too. Who knows?

[They wipe the knife off on their sleeve. Let's be real, that sleeve's gonna be a stained mess anyway.]

If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to tempt me to target something I knew was a human or monster. Just to be sure.

I'm still figuring out how things work here either, remember?

[And they hate the feeling that this entire episode has led them into, like everything's spinning hopelessly out of their control. They're not used to not being able to dictate their own path anymore. Being like this, two separate entities - it's harder.]

You don't have to do this.

[So cliché. Like they haven't said this a million times before.]

Don't I?

[Over and over and over again. Everything in their life adheres to that phrase: over and over. On the surface. Underground. In Asriel's body. In Frisk's. In their own. Things always end the same. They were set on these tired old rails the moment they were called to this world. They just. Don't care anymore. Too late to say sorry. Always was.

What's the alternative, anyway? A fruit basket and a nice "sorry for stabbing you" card? Looking very sorry and trying to explain they were attacked, not the other way around? If Frisk, a being made of excuses and pacifism and free passes, thinks they're the one to blame, then who in all of Wonderland would?

They step to the door. Better things to do, or something like that.]

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