Chara Dreemurr..? (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
achievementhunter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lifeaftr2018-04-13 08:16 am
achievementhunter) wrote in lifeaftr2018-04-13 08:16 am
Entry tags:
- final fantasy xv: ignis scientia,
- fragile dreams: ren,
- hollow knight: the knight,
- marble hornets: tim wright,
- mass effect: commander shepard,
- osomatsu-san: ichimatsu matsuno,
- pokemon sun & moon: guzma,
- the league: jules dagger samari,
- undertale: chara dreemurr,
- ✖ dangan ronpa: hinata hajime,
- ✖ fragile dreams: crow,
- ✖ the adventure zone: lup,
- ✖ undertale: frisk,
- ✖ undertale: muffet
I Think I Got Too Many Memories Getting In The Way Of Me
Who: Anyone willing to deal with an armed, violent-prone child having a tantrum
What: Chara's horrible, no good, very bad day. Someone's getting stabbed! Potentially multiple people! Someone's getting punched in the face! Potentially multiple people!
When: 11th to the 13th of April
Where: everywhere
Warnings: violence, stabbings, generally please don't tag into this if you're not into your character being physically or verbally attacked f-ff
11th - Even At The Best Of Times I'm Out Of My Mind | Islet One
They aren't the type of child who seeks out others, when something happens. Something awful, something utterly out of their control. They do not want to talk about it. They will not cry, nor sulk. There will be very few, if history has proven anything, who will even realize they have been slighted in some way at all.
And then there are those who are on island one when Chara walks up to that now empty abode. And perhaps, they will also not realize that anything is out of the norm-- but they'll certainly take stock of the suddenly flaming knife in their hand, the very same one that embeds itself in the cottage with four, additional rooms added to it, the one with no owner.
The knife, still on fire, remains embedded in now smoking wood. Calmly, Chara takes out a second knife.
And up in flames that one goes, as well.
11-13th - You Only Get What You Grieve | E4
According to some, setting houses on fire is not a healthy outlet for stress.
Which, realistically, is probably fair. The solution to this problem is not to stab inanimate objects, no sir. So how about some animate ones, instead?
The fact that the centipuppies are kind of cute doesn't mitigate the issues they cause- a pack of the creatures could go after a singular target with ease. A cute nuisance. A potentially dangerous nuisance. There would likely be one or two people not too keen on the burning carcasses they've left strewn about the place, but centipuppies aren't docile. They're not a rare creature upon Enso, either; ridding the beach of a single pack isn't problematic at all.
Not even slightly.
If anything, the ordeal becomings something of a mind numbing task, child walking up and down the stretch of the beach, watching out for stragglers. For the next two days, it's all they're going to do. Walk. Wait. And when the situation calls for it
Lash out.
13th, closed to Frisk, Lup, and Tim - Are You Smelling That Shit? | Islet 3
[Their flowers are wilted.
Three days without attention, and Chara should have expected this, really. It's not as if the plants themselves are going to die; they're sturdy enough to take a bit of thirst, a slight amount of burn at the edges of their petals from a harsh sun. The majority of them will love; there are even more shoots to grow, ready to take the place of those that won't.
But there are those that won't.
Frowning critically, Chara considers- the various things they could and should be doing, at this point. Carefully pruning the leaves and picking off the wilted buds, mixing the earth with some more most soil. Watering them all. It's a sizeable enough patch now that it should take a few hours for just the one person- plenty enough to keep them moving until they're tired, ready to find... perhaps ready to collapse into their hammock, after a few days of sleeping outside.
And yet, they don't move just yet. There's so much to do here- and moreso, if they would pay attention to anything else. They haven't been looking for food, the past few days. Haven't been collecting resources to trade with Lup and Taako. Haven't been to the new island past a brief, cursory look; the familiar, tell-tale itch of curiosity absent. Haven't spoken to Frisk or Tim since he-- since this started. There is a great deal to do.
They don't move just yet.]
What: Chara's horrible, no good, very bad day. Someone's getting stabbed! Potentially multiple people! Someone's getting punched in the face! Potentially multiple people!
When: 11th to the 13th of April
Where: everywhere
Warnings: violence, stabbings, generally please don't tag into this if you're not into your character being physically or verbally attacked f-ff
11th - Even At The Best Of Times I'm Out Of My Mind | Islet One
They aren't the type of child who seeks out others, when something happens. Something awful, something utterly out of their control. They do not want to talk about it. They will not cry, nor sulk. There will be very few, if history has proven anything, who will even realize they have been slighted in some way at all.
And then there are those who are on island one when Chara walks up to that now empty abode. And perhaps, they will also not realize that anything is out of the norm-- but they'll certainly take stock of the suddenly flaming knife in their hand, the very same one that embeds itself in the cottage with four, additional rooms added to it, the one with no owner.
The knife, still on fire, remains embedded in now smoking wood. Calmly, Chara takes out a second knife.
And up in flames that one goes, as well.
11-13th - You Only Get What You Grieve | E4
According to some, setting houses on fire is not a healthy outlet for stress.
Which, realistically, is probably fair. The solution to this problem is not to stab inanimate objects, no sir. So how about some animate ones, instead?
The fact that the centipuppies are kind of cute doesn't mitigate the issues they cause- a pack of the creatures could go after a singular target with ease. A cute nuisance. A potentially dangerous nuisance. There would likely be one or two people not too keen on the burning carcasses they've left strewn about the place, but centipuppies aren't docile. They're not a rare creature upon Enso, either; ridding the beach of a single pack isn't problematic at all.
Not even slightly.
If anything, the ordeal becomings something of a mind numbing task, child walking up and down the stretch of the beach, watching out for stragglers. For the next two days, it's all they're going to do. Walk. Wait. And when the situation calls for it
Lash out.
13th, closed to Frisk, Lup, and Tim - Are You Smelling That Shit? | Islet 3
[Their flowers are wilted.
Three days without attention, and Chara should have expected this, really. It's not as if the plants themselves are going to die; they're sturdy enough to take a bit of thirst, a slight amount of burn at the edges of their petals from a harsh sun. The majority of them will love; there are even more shoots to grow, ready to take the place of those that won't.
But there are those that won't.
Frowning critically, Chara considers- the various things they could and should be doing, at this point. Carefully pruning the leaves and picking off the wilted buds, mixing the earth with some more most soil. Watering them all. It's a sizeable enough patch now that it should take a few hours for just the one person- plenty enough to keep them moving until they're tired, ready to find... perhaps ready to collapse into their hammock, after a few days of sleeping outside.
And yet, they don't move just yet. There's so much to do here- and moreso, if they would pay attention to anything else. They haven't been looking for food, the past few days. Haven't been collecting resources to trade with Lup and Taako. Haven't been to the new island past a brief, cursory look; the familiar, tell-tale itch of curiosity absent. Haven't spoken to Frisk or Tim since he-- since this started. There is a great deal to do.
They don't move just yet.]
no subject
There's a sickening knot of horror and grief in the pit of her stomach, that churns and burns for them. I could be dead, finally, like a knife in her heart, it's both a shock and not to hear them put into words the desperate exhaustion in their soul. And the idea that they-- they've asked a god for permanent oblivion? That fills her with a sudden, wild panic that she has literally no time to unpack right now. This isn't about her and what their loss would mean to her.
Because they didn't fucking choose this, they were talked into it, into the most fucked up, the cruelest thing you could possibly do to them and there's an answering fury flaring in her soul. They're right to scream and swear and want to hurt, they deserve to claw their justice from-- But it's only a second, before Lup looks into their pleading eyes and remembers who it is they're talking about.
Her own eyes fill with tears but she holds their gaze with surety, and as their grip on her arms tightens, her hold around them loosens into something soft enough to be an embrace.
"Because they're-- Frisk is just a kid. You're both just... just kids! You can't expect either of you to-- to bear the fucking unbearable without cracking, without getting mad as hell and, and saying things you don't mean. They're just as lost and hurt as you." She doesn't know Frisk half as well as Chara, can't even fathom why they'd resort to something so absolute and horrific. But she understands the unquestioning dedication with which Chara tried to follow their other half, to the end of the world, to the end of all the worlds. Wouldn't even need to carry the notes of their song in her heart to know-- the dangers of it. To not have somebody tell you, maybe this is a bad idea. I won't do it. Please don't.
"They never should have asked you to give up your existence. And you never should have agreed. But you're both here now, and I know your name, Chara. I know-- you.
And you are enough."
no subject
Even then, she says, they're enough. Despite losing their temper, despite agreeing with something that broke everything, despite- even if they're-- they don't know where to go from here. Even if they haven't for some time. Chara laughs, a sound that's lost its edge and replaces it with exhaustion.
"For you, maybe."
At least they're enough for someone. Slowly, Chara lets go of her arms, hands hovering. Not at all sure where to put them now- not wanting more contact and too tired to pull away from the contact that's already there. If she wants to hold onto them; to keep them at bay, for her own sake, well.
She's not the first to do either one.
"...In the Underground, there were aberrations between RESETS. People who would be there for one, and not the next. It wasn't- plausible, for that to happen. It wasn't possible. Almost all of them spoke of a man who speaks in hands- a man who fell into his own machine and scattered himself across time and space." Their gaze drops, looking to the ground. "Frisk obtained the notes of his research. We decided that- it was for the best. For the world to remain the same, except for two, small details."
Their existences.
"Obviously, something went wrong. Waking up here was-" A deep breath. They don't have the words, to describe how that felt. They don't need to. She was there, when they did. "Tim- died, a few weeks prior to our attempt. Waking up here was the next thing he remembered- he also remembered us.
"Unlike... others. Assuming new identities, I assumed, would assist us in remaining- forgotten."
They smile. Not genuinely, but without the usual sharpness they direct to the rest of the world. Pained and regretful.
"It worked."
no subject
At least they don't seem ready to bolt anymore. It's the exhaustion, for sure, but maybe it's-- maybe they want to talk, too. They release their grasp on her with deliberate slowness and she pulls back a little in turn, just enough to see them properly, resting her hands lightly on their legs.
She listens patiently to their explanation, keeping her own horror at it well in check. Two, small details, a world where they never existed, better off? Just, no. Nope! That's sure as hell not true here, and it probably wasn't back then either. She's seen a little of their relationship with that fire girl in that world, and she'd bet she wasn't the only one whose-- whose memories these kids took. They made that decision for everyone who ever knew them because, because of course they did, set out to fix their own perceived mistakes without giving anyone a chance to object.
They, too, reaped the consequences of that decision.
"There's people here who don't remember you?" Her voice is quiet, strained with her grief for them. If there's one thing worse than knowing you're forgotten, it's-- seeing no recognition in someone you love.
no subject
We know better- they'll be better off, Frisk had said. And Chara believed it. Still believes it, regardless of the burning in their eyes and throat and chest, the roughness of their voice when they answer:
"There was."
There was a skeleton that used to pick demons up off the ground. Who kept a first-aid kit hidden in his ribcage, just in case. It might not have meant much, he'd said, but he was proud of them. The first and only person who'd ever felt it was worth saying as much.
There was a Pokemon, a Cubone, who spoke in sign language and had a flair for dramatics, just like her dad. Who made cupcakes with icing in their favorite colors. Who didn't forget but might as well have, always so far away-- but she'd never stopped wearing that scarf.
There was a man.
"I guess-"
There was Wade. They loved him.
"It doesn't really matter now, does it?" That heat in their eyes- spills over. And immediately, Chara feels foolish, turning away and furiously scrubbing their face with one sleeve. "We wasted our time. Frisk doesn't want to do it anymore, so that's. Wonderful. Splendid. No harm done."
None at all.