[What's any of that meant to mean, exactly? There's someone laid down here now, but they're not -
That's not Frisk.
Skin paler, their demeanor false, hair alit with invisible fingers of some sort of holy backlight. A front, a mere mimicry of Frisk's desperate mumbling, their reaching fingers, their fumbling hands, their tripping over themself to be heard and registered and acknowledged.
It's not Frisk. It's not Frisk. It's not Frisk.
They receive nothing in turn. Nothing but a strangled huff of sound, and Chara buries their face in the crook of their elbow with a shrill giggle.]
no subject
That's not Frisk.
Skin paler, their demeanor false, hair alit with invisible fingers of some sort of holy backlight. A front, a mere mimicry of Frisk's desperate mumbling, their reaching fingers, their fumbling hands, their tripping over themself to be heard and registered and acknowledged.
It's not Frisk. It's not Frisk. It's not Frisk.
They receive nothing in turn. Nothing but a strangled huff of sound, and Chara buries their face in the crook of their elbow with a shrill giggle.]