[The refrain that their relationship is built on, try as Frisk may to ignore it:]
* It's you!
[How does one pronounce an asterisk? The same way one pronounces redness, presumably: something felt, not said. A certain familiarity in Chara's tone. Like even now, separate and distinct, they can still strive to push Frisk one way or another.
Are they surprised to see Frisk here? Did they perhaps expect that regaining themselves would come at the price of overwriting Frisk's existence? Well. Who can say? Chara's not telling. That sweet, painted smile reveals nothing.
They raise their stick. Whip it into the open palm of their free hand. It stings. They feel. The slap of striking flesh echoes in the snowy air.]
Not like what, exactly? I can't read your mind, Frisk.
[Chara laughs. A funny joke, is it not?
Just as funny, surely, as the words that will spill out of Frisk next.]
no subject
* It's you!
[How does one pronounce an asterisk? The same way one pronounces redness, presumably: something felt, not said. A certain familiarity in Chara's tone. Like even now, separate and distinct, they can still strive to push Frisk one way or another.
Are they surprised to see Frisk here? Did they perhaps expect that regaining themselves would come at the price of overwriting Frisk's existence? Well. Who can say? Chara's not telling. That sweet, painted smile reveals nothing.
They raise their stick. Whip it into the open palm of their free hand. It stings. They feel. The slap of striking flesh echoes in the snowy air.]
Not like what, exactly? I can't read your mind, Frisk.
[Chara laughs. A funny joke, is it not?
Just as funny, surely, as the words that will spill out of Frisk next.]