[It hurts. It hurts and they don't know what to say, can't make the words form in their throat. Fingers dig into the flesh of their arms, nails pressing hard, hard, harder into the skin and they shouldn't do that, shouldn't shouldn't but there's nothing else to do. Doesn't matter.]
N...not your fault.
[They look up again, eyes bright and wet and brow creased in worry and regret.]
Whose memories forced you to keep going, Frisk? Where was the option to QUIT? Because I certainly did not see any.
[You know precisely why that is, do you not? There are two choices, always. You Continue, or you Reset. The option to QUIT? Why, it simply does not exist.
[They know Chara didn't want this. No one wanted this, to be dragged back out of that long slumber again and again just to trace the same steps, the same movements over and over.]
[But if not them, then who? What put them into this cycle, what reached out and twisted the world around them into this sick parody of a journey? Was it their own foolish mistake, to go tumbling down into that mountain? Was it fate that chained them into this role?]
[Chara smiles, indulgently. Their idealism borders on naivete at times, does it not?]
If I was to get no rest, why should you either? Creatures like me...wouldn't hesitate to KILL those who get in my way. Over. And over. And over.
[As many times as it takes. RESET. Another monster, another death. RESET. Have things become better? Does Toriel still hurl flames at the child she swore to protect? RESET. Another monster down, dust swirling in a snowy spiral of motes. RESET. They're stepping more darkly now, hurtling forward with the intent to hurt.
RESET.]
If you are so very eager to deny I have anything to do with your journey, Frisk, then I must say: I may as well not exist at all!
[And wouldn't that be a much sweeter subject for everyone?]
[Every step. Hints, whispers in their ear as they made their way through. Putting the words together when they didn't know what to say, laying out a foundation for them to build their choices upon. No, Frisk didn't always choose the best path, but...there is only one path where the quiet urging is not present.]
It wasn't any trick. We were stuck, and...you still tried.
But only for the good parts, right? Only for the parts that are Frisk-patented and Frisk-approved!
[No control allowed for this demon! Since when were they the one in control, right? But that is nothing new, is it. No, no, of course not; we cannot trust you to make your own decisions, Chara. We cannot trust you to decide anything for yourself, Chara, can we? You will do what all children do, and you will make a mess of things. They are and never have been in control, and never will be, should their Partner have their way.
Which they will. Of course they will. When the story does not bend to your will, simply rewrite the book!]
[Frisk grips their hair tightly and curls into a small ball, wheezing as they try to find the right words. What are they supposed to say, what choice of dialogue will fix this? They don't know, they don't know and they're helpless, can't do anything right, never could, never could.]
[They just keep breaking everything.]
[It's a few long moments before their voice obeys again, quiet and almost barely understandable.]
[A high time for them to have grown a conscience, where successfully manipulating the data is concerned. Some Partner they are, right? Generating endless distress, second-guessing, internal doubt -
And Frisk missed this?
They turn away, hands closing about the Knife as they slide it up their sleeve. Somewhere nice to keep it, for now, out of the way. A few unhooked threads in their sweater will keep it in place.]
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no subject
N...not your fault.
[They look up again, eyes bright and wet and brow creased in worry and regret.]
It wasn't ever...your fault.
no subject
[You know precisely why that is, do you not? There are two choices, always. You Continue, or you Reset. The option to QUIT? Why, it simply does not exist.
It never did.]
no subject
[They know Chara didn't want this. No one wanted this, to be dragged back out of that long slumber again and again just to trace the same steps, the same movements over and over.]
[But if not them, then who? What put them into this cycle, what reached out and twisted the world around them into this sick parody of a journey? Was it their own foolish mistake, to go tumbling down into that mountain? Was it fate that chained them into this role?]
[Or was it...?]
no subject
If I was to get no rest, why should you either? Creatures like me...wouldn't hesitate to KILL those who get in my way. Over. And over. And over.
[As many times as it takes. RESET. Another monster, another death. RESET. Have things become better? Does Toriel still hurl flames at the child she swore to protect? RESET. Another monster down, dust swirling in a snowy spiral of motes. RESET. They're stepping more darkly now, hurtling forward with the intent to hurt.
RESET.]
If you are so very eager to deny I have anything to do with your journey, Frisk, then I must say: I may as well not exist at all!
[And wouldn't that be a much sweeter subject for everyone?]
no subject
[Every step. Hints, whispers in their ear as they made their way through. Putting the words together when they didn't know what to say, laying out a foundation for them to build their choices upon. No, Frisk didn't always choose the best path, but...there is only one path where the quiet urging is not present.]
It wasn't any trick. We were stuck, and...you still tried.
no subject
[No control allowed for this demon! Since when were they the one in control, right? But that is nothing new, is it. No, no, of course not; we cannot trust you to make your own decisions, Chara. We cannot trust you to decide anything for yourself, Chara, can we? You will do what all children do, and you will make a mess of things. They are and never have been in control, and never will be, should their Partner have their way.
Which they will. Of course they will. When the story does not bend to your will, simply rewrite the book!]
no subject
[Frisk grips their hair tightly and curls into a small ball, wheezing as they try to find the right words. What are they supposed to say, what choice of dialogue will fix this? They don't know, they don't know and they're helpless, can't do anything right, never could, never could.]
[They just keep breaking everything.]
[It's a few long moments before their voice obeys again, quiet and almost barely understandable.]
I...I'm sorry...
[What do you want them to do?]
no subject
And Frisk missed this?
They turn away, hands closing about the Knife as they slide it up their sleeve. Somewhere nice to keep it, for now, out of the way. A few unhooked threads in their sweater will keep it in place.]
Do what you want, Frisk.
[Cold words, and a distant tone.]
I am hardly the one to stop you.