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entranceworks2016-01-23 12:13 am
vitaelamorte) wrote in entranceworks2016-01-23 12:13 am
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+ ENTRANCEWAY TEST DRIVE MEME +
You have isolated your victim to study it at length, seeking to become them. You are nearly satisfied you know your chosen subject, ready to take on its form, leaving the poor soul to rot. You crave bottomlessly to be more, more powerful, more skilled, more inspired, and being them will be so much more interesting.
They will tell you what they think, they will tell you what they feel, they will tell you what they see. Are all these shapes useful? Will they let you know them? Will they tell you more about them?
For you must see more. You have not yet seen enough. You must rise--
--to the occasion at the
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[They haven't yet gathered the determination necessary to form a SAVE. They're a little afraid to try it. What if it doesn't work? What happens then? If they die here, do they go back - back Underground?
They don't want to find out.
Chara seems utterly unsurprised to see them. That in and of itself isn't terribly surprising. It might've been more surprising if they'd actually been surprised.]
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[Maybe a new game has started, but some rules never change. An enemy appears before you. You destroy them. You become stronger. Your will overcomes theirs. You win. Even if they're no longer pooling their Determination with Frisk's, even if they're no longer leeching off a much more intact SOUL, they're certain of that.
Kill or be killed. That rule is the same everywhere.
They cannot see a SAVE point. This interests them. Surely Frisk would have wanted to prepare before an encounter like this. How different is this place, they wonder?]
You have some things I wish to claim. Shall we test your ideas out? Would you like to return what is rightfully mine? That knife. That locket. They must be growing heavy, if you have no need for things like LOVE.
[They extend the stick, pointing like a sword. A conductor's baton, ready to direct. What an interesting idea they've had! Would Frisk surrender their weapon, their armor? Leave themselves defenseless? Or are they afraid of EXP and LOVE still? It's a very big thought to swallow, allowing yourself to be vulnerable.
And the alternative... taking them by force. An even more interesting idea. Would Frisk resist? Perhaps they would jump at the chance to finally beat back the voice they tried to ignore. To crush that undesirable self into submission.]
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[The knife, they're certain, belonged to Asriel. Belonged, past tense. That stays true no matter what timeline they're in. But the locket...
...did it belong to Chara? They never asked. No one ever said.
They wrap fingers protectively around the locket, the warmth, the faint pulse of it beating. It's all they have as a reminder of the Underground. They can't just relinquish it.]
You'd just use them to hurt people.
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Not yours, Frisk says. They can almost feel the locket beating around Frisk's fingers, as if they were Chara's fingers instead.
Best friends forever.
The knife. The object they waited so long to curl their fingers around. At last.
Before Frisk has even finished speaking, Chara is taking a step forward, hand white-knuckled around the stick. The world around them does not change, but within Chara, they can almost feel things distorting, slowing down. A heart entirely of their own begins to beat, adrenaline begins to stir in a body that they never thought they would win back.]
They're not yours, Frisk.
I was not the one who used them for something like that, was I? Weren't you the one in control? Aren't you the one using them to hurt?
[Another step. Resolute. Focused. Determined.]
Your choice.
[♥ Give them back Use them to hurt Chara]
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Frisk holds out the knife, blade first.
And drop it with a quiet crunch into the snow behind them.]
You can't force me to do anything. Not like this.
[When Chara was a force of nature acting upon them, well, that was a different story. They might be more liable to hurt Frisk like this in a physical way, but they can't lead them astray anymore. Not from within.
Which means anything Frisk does wrong will be Frisk's fault.]no subject
Once upon a time, Flowey proposed a fascinating question. A Frisk that fancied themselves above "kill or be killed," one who thought themselves the paragon of mercy... what would they do when they met a truly determined killer? No outside SOULs to drop their defense to 0, to make their loads fail. No universe-mandated path to victory. Mercy only a wasted effort, only an invitation to get dunked on.
Would they give up? Or would they fight back? How far could you really get without any LOVE?
The knife is released, and Chara lunges for it. In their hands, it's more than just some worn dagger. It's deadlier than Frisk could ever know -- oh. But that isn't entirely right, is it? Maybe Frisk had a glimpse of its real potential once.
Whatever the case, they break into a sprint, ignore Frisk's words completely. Seek only to blow right past them like they're one of Papyrus' pointless puzzles. Chara's only interest is in claiming what they really want, and all of that starts with the Real Knife.]
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Acting on pure impulse, Frisk springs to plant themselves in Chara's path. Maybe, they think breathlessly, desperately, Frisk was the one who was good at dodging, not Chara. Maybe that'll be enough to divert their attention. Maybe.
Maybe it'll just knock Frisk flat on their back.
Either way, it'll keep them from reaching the knife, if only for a few moments.]
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And Chara. Chara was nothing, now, but LOVE and determination. Death was meaningless. Their skillful dodges and expertly-timed strikes had been largely born out of sheer repetition and memorization. But that. Like everything else. Did not matter. Whether they went around Frisk or through them, the result was the same.
Frisk leaps in their path, and they don't slow down or alter course. They slam right into Frisk, and the two of them crash into the snow in a tangle of furious limbs.
Chara throws the stick to the side -- too close to use it effectively. But they still have fists. And Frisk still has one more thing Chara covets. Two, if they can only find a way to get at that glowing red SOUL of theirs. Until then, Chara grabs at the smaller heart over their chest: the locket.]
I can't force you to do anything? Frisk, I have more force than ever!
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What had they been thinking, dropping it?
Then Chara grabs the locket.]
Stop -
[It's going to choke them. They kick out frantically, straining to throw the other child off.]
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They don't care if it hurts. They don't care if Frisk can't breathe. All they feel is the way the locket jumps and twitches in their hand, the sharp impacts of Frisk's legs trying to push them away, the passing bit of idle curiosity:
When was Frisk's last SAVE? What happens to a SOUL when it cracks here? Are they already dead? Can they die again? What would it be like, to experience Frisk dying and not be dragged away with them? They've even been freed from the consequences of Frisk's death, now, same as everyone else's--
They stop. Allow only enough slack in the locket's chain for Frisk to get some air.]
Call out for help, Frisk. Struggle. Start ACTing. Let's see what mercy does for you now.
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I was always the crybaby, wasn't I...
Frisk wrenches themselves back. That's not them. Not anymore.
When Chara loosens their grip, they suck in a greedy gasp of air at the sheer unexpected mercy of it. Only. Only it's not mercy, is it.
At my most vulnerable...
Stop it. Stop it.]
- Asriel - [They breathe out the name like a talisman.] - wouldn't - want you to.
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Frisk is trying to use that name like a weapon. So Chara seizes the word Frisk brandishes like a shield, turns it into a knife. Sinks it deeper into themselves. Twists. Did Frisk expect that to hurt? They can't do any worse than Chara can do to themselves!]
Asriel expects nothing of me anymore. I'm not exactly the nicest person, am I?
[Their free hand arcs back, swings forward. Slaps Frisk across the face. An open-handed strike. More air resistance, less force than a punch. But they want the bigger noise, the sharp but short-lived sting, the humiliation. Underscoring the difference between LV1 and LV19. What could have been LV20, what should have been, what they could have become if Frisk had just let them finish the job.]
I certainly don't see him rushing to your rescue. Do you?
[* But nobody came.
* But nobody came, Frisk.
* Not even the voice whispering to your SOUL is on your side right now.]
no subject
[They shout it, voice tearing, cracking at the edges, fracturing with dismay, disuse, pain, humiliation, horror, regret. Their cheek stings, red with cold and the hard print of a hand. The snow is burning into their back through their striped shirt. The handle of the knife digs into their spine, pinned between them and the snow-strewn dirt.
It hurts to scream.
It'll hurt more to die.]
There's no LOVE here! No RESETs! We're somewhere else!
[Look up, they want to say. Look up and see the sky again. But all that springs to their mind is the name - ]
- Wonderland.
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Slowly, almost theatrically, they draw their hand back once more. Another slap, more demoralizing than vicious.
* Doesn't it hurt?
* Don't you resent that you can't stop it?
* Can't move your body. You tried to reach for your SAVE file... nothing happened.
* The little power you do have is worthless now. You can't SAVE this creature. You can't even SAVE yourself.
Chara leans down. Tenderly, almost. Smiles that lovely smile they do so well. Whispers a sweet little secret, as supportive and intimate as a "despite everything" in Frisk's ear.]
I don't care.
[No Asriel, no Toriel and Asgore lovingly nose-nuzzling. This is just another flawed ending. Not what Chara wants. Another meaningless world to pass through like a detached spectator, devouring it as they please. If no RESETs means no undoing the bodies they leave behind, means turning the whole world against them until either there's nothing left of the world or of them, then so be it. It's still oblivion, no matter how they achieve it.]
I still can't feel a SOUL inside me, Frisk. Nothing has a point. Existing is pointless.
[They tilt their head back, like they can hear the unspoken request fit into that single world. An infinite, snowy sky. Ah. So lovely. The surface.
The place they threw themselves down an endless pit to escape.]
So. If none of it matters. Then I think I want to see what you do.
[They shift, adjust one of their knees. Dig it into the snow instead. Allow Frisk a single free arm. And then, one more time, they straighten up. Draw their hand back to lash out.
FIGHT. ACT. ITEM. MERCY.]
no subject
[They never talk this much but it's all spilling out in a streamlined burst, part prayer and part plea. How do you FIGHT something that you never had to FIGHT, but was inside you all along?
They freeze, rigid in indecision. The knife's pommel is digging a painful lump in their back. They could twist around, reach for it.
They don't have anything else.]
How do you know you don't have a SOUL here?
no subject
If I could regret, then I would know.
[They wouldn't be able to take even a single step if the sins crawling on their back were capable of having weight again. They would surely be paralyzed beneath them, sobbing too hard to speak. Crushed by remorse, starved for redemption, screaming out for help.
Or maybe they wouldn't. Maybe a SOUL wouldn't make a difference. Maybe they really always were just a bad person.
Starting over. What a nice thought that would be. Maybe nobody here knows them but Frisk. ...Frisk, who surely wishes they never had a voice whispering poison in their ear. Frisk, who surely sees them as a scapegoat. A warning. Not a person, but an example of what not to do.
Ha. They are already a demon. Chara knows that.
Again, they raise their hand. Again, just enough of a pause to coax a reaction out of Frisk -- to toy with them, to goad them closer and closer to fighting or crumbling. Attack or run away! What are you proving this way?]
no subject
[They don't want to hurt you.
And the problem is, well, Chara knows their head. Chara's been there, sick and heavy and familiar and crawling all over their thoughts, clinging there like a tumor.
Frisk twists, and retrieves the knife from beneath them. Their movements are clumsy and unpracticed, but their grip is tight and unyielding.
It's more than likely that Chara knows them well enough to call their bluff. But maybe they'll be curious enough to let the knife serve as a barrier between them.]
no subject
Chara knows Frisk, of course. They know it wouldn't be satisfying or entertaining in the least to kill someone who chooses not to fight back. That these slaps will bore them long before the stinging in their hand or the look on Frisk's face can pierce through the wall of empty space where a SOUL should have been.
They know Frisk doesn't want to hurt them. They know Frisk just wants to be good.
But Chara. Chara is proving something this way, too. Chara doesn't want to be the cautionary tale. Chara wants to prove that naive sentiment wrong -- even the worst person can be good, if they just try? Chara wants someone to drag down, because they once wanted to be good, and they only ruined everything. They're beyond redemption now. Beyond goodness. They had a second chance to be a good person, and merely poisoned everything they touched.
They want proof that sort of fate can even befall the good human.
They take a good, long look at the knife in Frisk's hand. Red eyes, gleaming with the ghost of a strange, unhealthy sort of excitement, sharply slide up to meet Frisk's.]
Make me.
[And again, they swing. Aim to hurt. Press harder and harder for Frisk to use that knife for its intended purpose. If it's already in Frisk's hand, then it's only one half-step further to use it. Won't that be satisfying, Frisk?
* Won't that just be what Chara deserves?]
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Weak, weak, weak.
It would be so easy.
Is that what makes it so wrong?]
Get back!
[They swing the knife in a deliberately clumsy arc, just enough to serve as sort of a buffer between Chara and themselves. Maybe it's an attempt to drive them away. The intent to hurt, to kill - it's not there. They're too scared of themselves.]
no subject
Frisk.
You don't get to pretend this is hard. We were there together, were we not? When you conquered someone Undying. When Toriel, when Papyrus, when Mettaton fell at your hand. When Asgore did not receive mercy. You know what a real swing feels like.
I will not "get back." I refuse to do what you tell me. So put me in my place, Frisk. You have it in you. Even when I'm not there to take the blame, you have it in you.
[They tug harder on the locket. Tighten their grip. Offer a little less breathing room. A reminder which of them is in a position to make the rules, and which one is... ha ha. Which one is at their mercy.]
no subject
[It slips out before they can take it back. It slips out before they can do anything. They flinch, but the nagging fear still seizes them.]
What happens?
[Their grip trembles.]
What happens when something without a SOUL dies?
[It's what Asriel had been afraid of. Flowey.]
cw for suicide mention by the way HA HA SHIT
I became despondent. I just wanted to love someone. I just wanted to care about someone. Chara, you might not believe this... But I decided... It wasn't worth living anymore. Not in a world without love. Not in a world without you.
So... I decided to follow in your footsteps.
I would erase myself from existence.
Chara laughs, softer and shakier, but somehow... sharper.]
I don't care.
Maybe I'll vanish at last. Just like Asriel wanted. You can have whatever ending you please, without a devil on your shoulder whispering "what if?" Everyone can be so very happy.
Wouldn't that be nice, Frisk? How lucky for you that I'm solid at last.
see above warning this thread is gettin DARK LMAO
[How can they not care? Is every moment just too painful for them to beat witness to it? Is this what drove them to chew up the buttercups until blood ran from their mouth and Asriel cried?]
You can start over. Please.
[They shake their head. They can't do it. They can't do it.
There has to be intent before you can FIGHT. Before you can kill.]
someone award chara the ABSOLUTELY NO CHILL trophy
Their grip is too tight, but they neither push nor pull.]
What's the point, Frisk?
Toriel and Asgore have been ruined beyond mending. Asriel hates me. I couldn't be good if I tried. No matter how many second chances I'm handed.
What would change? It'd just be another RESET.
chara u had ONE JOB
But there aren't RESETs here. Everything just...goes on.
[Even, people are saying, after death. But they both know what that's like.]
Asriel would forgive you. I forgive you.
[They plead, but they can't know what Asriel would say.]
i mean if that one job was RUIN EVERYTHING then mission accomplished
smh
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