Every monster got mercy. Toriel got a child to love and the school she dreamed of. Asgore got a chance to live on, move past the blood of six others staining his hands. Asriel was forgiven, comforted, decided his own fate. Got to say that Flowey wasn't really him.
Even Frisk gets to wipe away their mistakes. Live happily with friends and family that love them, that never have to remember that the two-hundred and forty-ninth time, they melted away, became dust. Gets to pretend they never died at the hands of the people they loved, whether that's really such a good thing for them or not.
But Chara... isn't exactly the nicest person. Is the demon that comes when it's called. Was not SAVED like other lost souls. Cannot be redeemed.
* Try as you might, you continue to be yourself.
They're usually so good with words. What spills from them is inevitably flowery, refined, but laced with buttercup poison. The lackluster nature of their response now... it's frustrating.]
I just am.
[They shift again. Freeing Frisk's other arm, then getting off them entirely. Their knees pulled to their chest. Their face still buried. It's not an angelic smile. It should not be seen.]
no subject
Every monster got mercy. Toriel got a child to love and the school she dreamed of. Asgore got a chance to live on, move past the blood of six others staining his hands. Asriel was forgiven, comforted, decided his own fate. Got to say that Flowey wasn't really him.
Even Frisk gets to wipe away their mistakes. Live happily with friends and family that love them, that never have to remember that the two-hundred and forty-ninth time, they melted away, became dust. Gets to pretend they never died at the hands of the people they loved, whether that's really such a good thing for them or not.
But Chara... isn't exactly the nicest person. Is the demon that comes when it's called. Was not SAVED like other lost souls. Cannot be redeemed.
* Try as you might, you continue to be yourself.
They're usually so good with words. What spills from them is inevitably flowery, refined, but laced with buttercup poison. The lackluster nature of their response now... it's frustrating.]
I just am.
[They shift again. Freeing Frisk's other arm, then getting off them entirely. Their knees pulled to their chest. Their face still buried. It's not an angelic smile. It should not be seen.]
Stop it. Fight me or leave.