[Time passes in an uncertain drag. Their breath may as well be swollen in their lungs, rasping in the back of their throat. Can't even be the slightest bit happy for Frisk, or Asriel, or anyone! Just have to be the same selfish fixture you always are, incapable of acknowledging when someone else gets a nice thing! So you have a fit. You have a stupid fit and you hide under the bed like the horrible little rotten thing you are and everyone has to drop everything to race to your side, because you can't help but make everything, everything, everything all about you!
Frisk receives no answer; not of the verbal variety. There's simply the rattling staccato of laughter winding out from under the bed, and Chara buries their face in their hands, back to the slice of light blazing through the open doorway.]
no subject
Frisk receives no answer; not of the verbal variety. There's simply the rattling staccato of laughter winding out from under the bed, and Chara buries their face in their hands, back to the slice of light blazing through the open doorway.]