[She springs to their defense at once, which is, perhaps, a bit over-optimistic. The Amalgamate swallows up the bolts of her magic, fizzling it away like bacon fat in a pan. Frisk has to scramble upright, panting, peering at the sticklike thing. Reaper Bird...?]
It's okay. It doesn't want to hurt us.
[It's scared. And it lashes out when it's scared. Most things do.]
no subject
It's okay. It doesn't want to hurt us.
[It's scared. And it lashes out when it's scared. Most things do.]
Just...don't attack. Please.