It's about as close as we'll ever get to having fun, huh.
[All this. The wretched, broken thing he pulled out of them. Their moment of dumb, flawed reflex -- aren't they supposed to be in control? -- and his hair-trigger reaction. A stupid box of water sausages in their room, like that's supposed to, what? Make them feel better? They don't feel anything.
How ridiculous that all of this happened because of a pointless impulse. Hey, Chara, maybe you can have your fun too! Maybe you can pretend to be human! Look what happens when you try. You slip up. Remind everyone what you are.
Incomprehensible. Unnatural. Something that should not exist. A threat, a vicious thing, wiping this away as hard as they can with dark, malicious promises to target entirely innocent bystanders. The one last obstacle between everyone and their happiness, stubbornly persisting.
This is guidance too. The answer. Their purpose. The world is still whispering it.]
But, Sans, you know. We agree on an awful lot of things.
Edited (what are words what is english) 2016-03-18 19:04 (UTC)
I gave it a real good try, though. Several hundred real good tries, actually, while poor Frisk was snared up in my control. Even you couldn't give me directions. Even your fun little dunks didn't stick.
* It's a beautiful day outside. Nice day today, just like yesterday, and the day before that. Every single page says the exact same thing.
* You tried and you tried, but you just can't reach hell. You just can't find a way to burn.
[Frisk? The angel in the prophecy? The one who made the Underground go empty with six human SOULs and almost every monster SOUL. Maybe they mean Papyrus, Toriel, Asgore? Maybe he'll even think Chara's directing that old prophecy onto themselves, painting them as that angel in the same breath that they call themselves a demon.
May as well leave it vague, see what he has to say.]
from what i understand of how all that works, demons are just fallen angels. so who's to say?
[Of course he knows what they're referencing, but the point of that whole Prophecy was that it cut both ways. It only ever promised that the Underground would go empty, after all. And it's still an angel either way. Which is telling.]
your story, huh. so, then...at first, way back when, when you were alive and living with the royal family...is that what you wanted? to be the angel? save everyone? cause all the murder and stuff didn't start till frisk showed up.
Doesn't matter. The first human SOUL the Underground ever saw fell ill and died. Couldn't do much of anything, killing or otherwise.
[Like hell they're breathing a word of the plan to someone who might remember across timelines. Someone who hangs out with Toriel. They just got sick out of nowhere, and of course there wasn't a proper doctor around.]
deal with it, huh? you think you can just rip it out and bury it in the dirt? or i'm pretty sure that flower will gladly take it for you. he seems to have a thing for souls.
That miserable thing seems to be on the edge of shattering, anyway. Can't be that hard to erase it.
[That's it. Nothing more than that. A complete failure to acknowledge that flower in any way. A secret to protect. They don't know who the flower really is, right?
Sans surely doesn't know the flower's role in the story on the runs that fell in between pacifism and annihilation -- the six SOULs, Asgore's demise, all of that. And on the last timeline, the perfectly happy one... well, Chara's just going to insist that they must not have been there for that one. You're not really Chara, right? Chara's been gone for a long time, haven't they?]
[A shattered soul doesn't always get erased, after all. Sans knows a thing or two about that. The smudges of eraser marks, the dents left behind. It's simple: the law of conservation.]
[They don't mention the flower. It's either a dodge, or they consider the flower as unimportant as everything else.]
I keep my secrets, you keep yours. We'll keep each other's.
However. If anyone can pull knowledge out of the very bones of that world. If anyone can comprehend the power to ERASE. If anyone can grasp the nature of another anomaly. Then whether you tell me or not, I will dig it up. I may make that same power my own.
After all. If we're really friends, then I won't come back.
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[All this. The wretched, broken thing he pulled out of them. Their moment of dumb, flawed reflex -- aren't they supposed to be in control? -- and his hair-trigger reaction. A stupid box of water sausages in their room, like that's supposed to, what? Make them feel better? They don't feel anything.
How ridiculous that all of this happened because of a pointless impulse. Hey, Chara, maybe you can have your fun too! Maybe you can pretend to be human! Look what happens when you try. You slip up. Remind everyone what you are.
Incomprehensible. Unnatural. Something that should not exist. A threat, a vicious thing, wiping this away as hard as they can with dark, malicious promises to target entirely innocent bystanders. The one last obstacle between everyone and their happiness, stubbornly persisting.
This is guidance too. The answer. Their purpose. The world is still whispering it.]
But, Sans, you know. We agree on an awful lot of things.
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[The future is full of possibilities. Or at the very least it has a couple more possibilities than the norm.]
perhaps. but not as much as you think.
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I gave it a real good try, though. Several hundred real good tries, actually, while poor Frisk was snared up in my control. Even you couldn't give me directions. Even your fun little dunks didn't stick.
* It's a beautiful day outside. Nice day today, just like yesterday, and the day before that. Every single page says the exact same thing.
* You tried and you tried, but you just can't reach hell. You just can't find a way to burn.
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what makes you think that isn't hell?
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[Frisk? The angel in the prophecy? The one who made the Underground go empty with six human SOULs and almost every monster SOUL. Maybe they mean Papyrus, Toriel, Asgore? Maybe he'll even think Chara's directing that old prophecy onto themselves, painting them as that angel in the same breath that they call themselves a demon.
May as well leave it vague, see what he has to say.]
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[Of course he knows what they're referencing, but the point of that whole Prophecy was that it cut both ways. It only ever promised that the Underground would go empty, after all. And it's still an angel either way. Which is telling.]
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The first thing Asriel said to an injured human, a long time ago. The first thing Toriel said to one that was bruised but still upright.]
You know. "Sisyphus" is just a little too long of a name to call the demon, but it would fit. I wouldn't be surprised if you were right.
I did not always believe Frisk existed. I thought it was my story. Karmic retribution, long before you made those sins start crawling.
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[Like hell they're breathing a word of the plan to someone who might remember across timelines. Someone who hangs out with Toriel. They just got sick out of nowhere, and of course there wasn't a proper doctor around.]
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[He'll need to think about this.]
well. i guess you'd know.
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Nor, for that matter, does this. Almost-SOUL.
I'll deal with it myself. You just keep quiet and do nothing. That's what you do best, is it not?
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[That's it. Nothing more than that. A complete failure to acknowledge that flower in any way. A secret to protect. They don't know who the flower really is, right?
Sans surely doesn't know the flower's role in the story on the runs that fell in between pacifism and annihilation -- the six SOULs, Asgore's demise, all of that. And on the last timeline, the perfectly happy one... well, Chara's just going to insist that they must not have been there for that one. You're not really Chara, right? Chara's been gone for a long time, haven't they?]
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[A shattered soul doesn't always get erased, after all. Sans knows a thing or two about that. The smudges of eraser marks, the dents left behind. It's simple: the law of conservation.]
[They don't mention the flower. It's either a dodge, or they consider the flower as unimportant as everything else.]
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He knows something.]
What comes after that, Sans? I'll humour you. Humour me.
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[Should he really dig this shit up? Really throw Chara a bone?]
[Heh.]
let's just say...shattering yourself, erasing yourself...
...it's not the neat, pleasant little end of the road that you think it is.
i told you before. eraser marks. doesn't matter what kind of "erase" you're talking about. the result will be the same.
[That's all he's going to say on the matter, and frankly, it's already too much.]
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["It," they say, because they struggle to even recall what "it" is. A them? A she? A he?
Something... Fun. The wrong number song, a catchy little earworm getting stuck in their head. Ringing ears and static in their head.]
A name the world won't let the fallen human use.
It... they? Something happened to its SOUL? Different from what happens when you die normally? Is that how it became... whatever it is?
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I keep my secrets, you keep yours. We'll keep each other's.
However. If anyone can pull knowledge out of the very bones of that world. If anyone can comprehend the power to ERASE. If anyone can grasp the nature of another anomaly. Then whether you tell me or not, I will dig it up. I may make that same power my own.
After all. If we're really friends, then I won't come back.
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see you around, chara.