bitsyfrisk-blog

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

“Oh.” Frisk gets the sensation that he doesn’t want to answer why he came, even though it really only seems right for him to share after they did, but they have enough manners not to push the issue. And then he compliments them, and they beam full force at him, rocking back and forth on the balls of their feet. “Thank you!”

They scuffle their feet on the ground for a second, wondering what else to say after they announce their game, but they shake their head. “No! I play with that Pixie all the time, it’s OK! She’ll forget we were playing soon and go back home.”

They giggle.

A small hand appears in his, fearless and gripping decently tight. “We should make better friends.”

It’s nearly strong enough to be choking, the sudden realization that this child reminds him a much younger Sasuke. A more innocent Sasuke, the one from before — 

Well, it doesn’t matter. He may be alive here, but Itachi is fairly certain he’s still dead in his home world. Sasuke has hopefully moved on in his life now that Itachi’s shadowed presence is out of it.

He returns from faraway thoughts of murder and betrayal to address Frisk again. Something to come tr — oh. The contractual agreement to have one wish granted. Itachi smiles wryly and says, “No, that’s not why I came.” He wants nothing for himself, and he has no more right to linger in the affairs of home. He’s here only for one final act of redemption, one last attempt to help the word instead of ruining it, before hopefully he’ll be allowed to sink into eternal oblivion. “That’s very noble of you, to want to help these people.” The children he grew up with largely fought for more practical reasons.

Against his own practicality, Itachi finds himself wanting to shield the child peering up at him from the fighting that’s to come. It doesn’t matter that, logically, it’s likely Frisk must have fighting experience already to be here. He’s simply unsure that he can stomach watching another child buckle and break.

“Tag,” he echoes; another childhood concept foreign in its innocence. Itachi’s only experience with anything like the game came from pre-genin exercises. “Should I let you get back to your game, then, now that you know to watch for walls?”

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

Frisk startles at the voice of a man behind them, spins, eyes wide in a moment of blind panic, and their fingers grip at their shirt, near where their soul always manifested - it pretty much looks like Frisk is merely gripping their heart, as if Viral about gave the eight year old a heart attack.

“Ummmmm... I’m...” Frisk is learning that no one knows what the fuck they’re talking about, which is making it really hard to communicate their particular skillset. They itch their nose. “I’m good at making people not wanna fight anymore.”

@bitsyfrisk

“I guess those people aren’t picky about who they contract…” This is the second human child he’s seen so far, and they look even younger than the first one. He knows that sometimes children can put up a good fight, given proper equipment (doesn’t he know this, better than anyone), but there aren’t any Gunmen in this town and frankly, this seems to be kind of pushing it.

“…Can you even fight?”

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

“Itachi!” They parrot it, tasting it in their own mouth, and deciding they like it - it’s not hard to do, but it helps them cement it in their memory (not that they really forget names and faces anyway, but it’s always best to be safe!). “Um! I wanted.. something to come true. So I came. Isn’t that why you came? That, an’ it sounded like.. these people needed help! An’ I wanna help. I’m good at that. My friends at home were all OK so I thought I should help new people.”

They study him, curiously, eyes wide and intent, soaking in every detail. He’s so tall - they can tell that he’s strong, too, like Undyne, and they’re fascinated. They want him to pick him up but write it off as a childish notion, one they should have grown out of.

“Unless! You mean here, ‘cause if you mean that, I was playing! With a Pixie! She’s my friend. We play tag.”

His eyebrow seems to raise of its own accord at the child’s reaction. For one, they don’t seem to be intimidated — and even those with no knowledge of his reputation usually shy away from him on instinct — but they also seem…happy, if the giggle is any indication.

There’s nothing particularly amusing about nearly running into a wall to him, but Itachi lets the corner of his mouth tick up in a smile anyways as he releases the child’s shirt. “Frisk.” The name sounds odd in his mouth, and Itachi wonders if it’s their real name, but he opts not to pry.

“My name is Itachi,” he returns, if only because that seems like the courteous thing to do. “What are you doing in a place like this, Frisk?” Itachi knows all too well that children are capable soldiers, but this one seems so very out of place that he surprises himself by hoping they’re here for some other reason than the fighting.

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

Hurk. They’re choked by the immovable force that is the ninja’s arm holding their shirt in place. Their fingers scrabble at their collar and they look up - and up - and up at the other man. 

Then they glance at the wall. He can almost see the ‘!’ that appears over their head.

“Oh! Wow! Thank you, Mister! I woulda ran into that!” They giggle and rub their nose, as if they had hit it. “Ummm... I’m Frisk! Thank you, again!”

Itachi isn’t yet sure what to make of this place; truthfully, he’s not sure he cares to figure it just now, when there are more pressing questions on his mind. Is he dead — as he should be —  and in some strange afterlife none of the religious texts  ever described, or has some part of him has truly been brought back to life? He hopes it’s the first and reluctantly suspects the second, and this confusing dichotomy in thought is enough to push him to leave the room he’s been given. Ruminating alone has, in his experience, never done Itachi much in the way of favors.

It’s when he steps into the bracingly cold air outside the lodge that Itachi spots a blur of blue and purple streaking towards him.

A child, on further assessment.

A child chasing a — demon, yes, that was the word here, wasn’t it? Whether flitting after the small creature is a good thing or not, Itachi cannot say. But the child is focused in a rather magpie-like fashion on the demon and not their surroundings, and its on pure instinct that Itachi’s hand reaches out and catches them by their sweater collar before they run into a low brick wall.

“You should watch where you run, next time,” he says in his usual implacably calm voice. It’s not so much a chastisement  — who is he to scold a child, after all  —   as it is a mere statement of fact.

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

@fucksatan

Frisk is chasing a Pixie around; it's not ill-intentioned, and Frisk would say that said Pixie is their friend and they're playing - either way, it's by darting around a corner, hoping to tag their demon friend into being it, that they run full tilt into someone.

They bounce off and land on their butt, blinking up at him. Hastily, they jump up and adjust their sweater - if it hurt, hitting the ground that hard, it doesn't show on their face, which only looks contrite.

"Wow... I'm sorry, Mister! I shouldn't've been running... Are you okay? I'm Frisk!" They frown, a little, tugging at the bottom of their sweater. “Are you mad at me?”

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

OK so. I know I didn’t get to, uh, any of my starters last time.

But! Hopefully now I can, since I’m back in my apartment with too much time to myself.

So!!!

Like this for a starter from the weird piece of sunshine.

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

Frisk shrugs. “I had to show them that I didn’t want anything bad to happen! They were scared of me and sad and lonely. But it’s OK. We’re all friends now!”

For the first time, they start to wonder if they and Claus are on different pages, discussing different things. “My ... my friend... wanted me to hurt everyone, but I wouldn’t. There wasn’t any reason to. They just didn’t understand. I helped them understand and we’re friends now.”

Friends are better than hurting. They always are.

The accusation of crying makes his cheeks puff a little, childish resentment coming into play. He wasn’t crying–he’s sure he can’t cry. They’d taken that away from him. Claus didn’t know what this was, but it wasn’t crying.

He wipes at his eyes furiously again, to prove a point. He gathers himself up fairly quickly, especially when the next topic appears at hand. He finds himself blinking again.

He’s suddenly reminded of the weight of that word: die. He shuts it out of his head. Claus becomes stone, rigid. He puts on the “mask”, and his voice is drained of all feeling. The absurdity of ‘dying a lot’ doesn’t cross his mind.

“You died. You couldn’t fight. What did you think would happen?”

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

It’s hard to doubt people. Unlike Chara, Frisk still believes in the good of people, despite what they’ve done to them in their past - and people here are so stressed and sad looking, they can hardly stand it.

Hugs were just a nice way to show that.

Then someone speaks to them, admonishing them for being so cheery, and, well.

He’s concerned about them. How can’t they like that? Tiny arms give him the best hug that they can, given that their arm span isn’t very long. “Thank you, mister!”

It’s cheerily said. “Thank you for being worried. But it’s OK. It’s not that bad!”

- Twogami is getting crumbs all over the dialogue box. - (Closed- Frisk)

Out of the many things they had seen here in this hotel? Perhaps this was one of the oddest - that even made their plans and ideals halt a moment. Granted, seeing a child here was not the strange thing. They had already had to deal with a particularly sassy child earlier - but what the strange thing was that this child seemed to be standing around the main lobby, greeting everyone in a friendly manner.

Regardless of being total strangers. Wait…were they literally hugging every person they spoke to? Surely they were seeing things. Approaching the child, it became clear they were not seeing things, for the child even looked as if they might try to hug them next.

( Okay, so maybe they actually would like a hug, but they had a disguise to keep intact.) “Oy, kiddo. I know you might have good intentions with greeting everyone here with a smile, but…I don’t think every single adult here is going to be as trustworthy as that. There’s good and bad people in the world, after all - who’s to say everyone contracted here is ‘good’? You should exercise a little caution when greeting others…nobody would wish an innocent child as you to be hurt, after all.”

…Wait. ‘Kiddo’? Bah, they should have called them ‘brat’ or something to stay in-diguise better, but…for some reason, in the face of such innocence…they couldn’t be as harsh as usual. Perhaps that was their soft-hearted nature under the disguise's fault.

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

Frisk startles at the young man's voice, their eyes wide and startled at first, before they confirm that he is talking to them.

"Me..?" An innocent, wide blink, not faked in the least. "No... I haven't left here yet... But, um, I don't... like to fight."

Rolo is significantly (to Frisk) older than them, and so they show a slightly more reserved side, as they fidget from foot to foot.

"Are you..? Going to fight them." Sweater paws meet in front of them and tangle as they clasp their fingers together, tight.

@bitsyfrisk

“Have you tried attacking them, the shadows?” Rolo hadn’t understood what exactly was the power of a persona or how to awaken it, but even without it they still had their guns and knives, didn’t they? It was surprising to see someone younger than himself creep so close to the edge of the safe barrier keeping the blizzard at bay, but if he’d come this far Rolo assumed that he was here to eliminate the shadow creatures, too.

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

"You're crying. Are you okay?" Their frown falters and they try to pat his arm, their concern clear on their face. "I didn't mean to upset you, I'm really sorry..."

If Claus' aggression bothers them, it certainly doesn't show in their tone, which is all genuine worry and compassion. The topic moves on and they let it, blinking curiously.

"Ummm. I guess..? I mean, I got attacked a lot, but I also died a lot..." Blinking, no sign of deception on their face. "Unless you mean fighting, 'cause I don't fight."

Frisk isn’t intimidated, isn’t scared. There are no spears thrown, no monsters trying to eat them, no magic coming for them, no bombs thrown; their SOUL isn’t exposed. A boy only a little older than them will have to try harder to shake Frisk’s determination. They go to the ground easily, not fighting.

Frisk has died more times than they can count (and, if you ask Frisk, they can count VERY high!), and they don’t realise that death isn’t a joke here, isn’t a reset away.

“That hurts,” they say, mildly, eyes finally open and curious more than anything, wondering if he, too, will become violent.

“Yep!” Still smiling. If you stop smiling, the world becomes scary, dangerous, ready to kill you. You smile until you die, then you get back up and try again. It’s that simple to Frisk.

“Mom, not my REAL mom,” Frisk clarifies easily, “she tried to stop me from doing dangerous stuff. I made her scared, an’ I feel bad about that, ‘cause I love her, an’ she made pie an’ gave me hugs, an’ told me stories. She didn’t yell at me, even when she hurt me. I like her better than my real mom.”

Frisk has no context for what they’re saying. They know families aren’t supposed to hit and yell, but theirs always has, even their Underground, monstrous one - only Sans hadn’t, and even then, he had threatened them. They’re still smiling.

“So I guess I have a family. Mama. Sorry for lying.”

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

Oh. Well, being hugged back does sound better than this, so Frisk lets go and side steps, refusing to let Sans out of their sight, until they’re in front again, where they promptly hug him again.

They giggle at the puns - they’ve always found them funny, no matter how bad they are - and tilt their head up to look him in the face. “How come you came here too? Do they got monster food?”

What was his wish, they wonder, even if they aren’t rude enough to ask - besides, what comes first is safety. They certainly don’t want the only one from home to turn to dust on them, knowing death is different for monsters.

“‘Cause glamburgers are GROSS but they’re good. Oh! I saw ketchup. Is that enough?” Christ, if Frisk never has to eat another sequin or glue in their life…

@skellievigilante

Blue hoodie, white bone, and Frisk is running. It’s an impressive pace, for their tiny, stubby legs, dragging them over land to launch face first into Sans’ back, unaware of what the skeleton might think at the weight of a child suddenly pressed into his back, unaware that Chara is here, is a person again, is anything but a voice in the back of their head urging them to violence.

“Sans! Sans, you’re here, you’re here!” It’s muffled by ketchup scented fabric, but it doesn’t matter - Sans is here, which makes things OK, at least a little. Tiny arms wrap around his ribs as tight as they can, and it’s clear Frisk isn’t letting go of their own free will. “Sans, I missed you!”

It’s only been a short while in their perception of time since they were in the Underground but Frisk has always been a sensitive child.

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

Frisk isn't intimidated, isn't scared. There are no spears thrown, no monsters trying to eat them, no magic coming for them, no bombs thrown; their SOUL isn't exposed. A boy only a little older than them will have to try harder to shake Frisk's determination. They go to the ground easily, not fighting.

Frisk has died more times than they can count (and, if you ask Frisk, they can count VERY high!), and they don't realise that death isn't a joke here, isn't a reset away.

"That hurts," they say, mildly, eyes finally open and curious more than anything, wondering if he, too, will become violent.

"Yep!" Still smiling. If you stop smiling, the world becomes scary, dangerous, ready to kill you. You smile until you die, then you get back up and try again. It's that simple to Frisk.

"Mom, not my REAL mom," Frisk clarifies easily, "she tried to stop me from doing dangerous stuff. I made her scared, an' I feel bad about that, 'cause I love her, an' she made pie an' gave me hugs, an' told me stories. She didn't yell at me, even when she hurt me. I like her better than my real mom."

Frisk has no context for what they're saying. They know families aren't supposed to hit and yell, but theirs always has, even their Underground, monstrous one - only Sans hadn't, and even then, he had threatened them. They're still smiling.

"So I guess I have a family. Mama. Sorry for lying."

“Okay!” That works for them - just like they hadn’t offered a perfect stranger to rename them if he so chose.

“And nope! My family hasn’t known where I am for a looooong, loooooooooong time!” Their perfectly cheery expression doesn’t falter. “But it’s okay! I made new friends and it doesn’t matter.”

It seems kind of a weird question to ask, to Frisk, who has always placed covenant over womb, why their family would need to know where they are - wouldn’t Toriel, Sans, Undyne - wouldn’t they want to know where they are? Not their family, who doesn’t care, who probably never looked for them when they climbed Mt. Ebott.

“What about you?”

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

@skellievigilante

Blue hoodie, white bone, and Frisk is running. It's an impressive pace, for their tiny, stubby legs, dragging them over land to launch face first into Sans' back, unaware of what the skeleton might think at the weight of a child suddenly pressed into his back, unaware that Chara is here, is a person again, is anything but a voice in the back of their head urging them to violence.

"Sans! Sans, you're here, you're here!" It's muffled by ketchup scented fabric, but it doesn't matter - Sans is here, which makes things OK, at least a little. Tiny arms wrap around his ribs as tight as they can, and it's clear Frisk isn't letting go of their own free will. “Sans, I missed you!”

It’s only been a short while in their perception of time since they were in the Underground but Frisk has always been a sensitive child.

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

"Okay!" That works for them - just like they hadn't offered a perfect stranger to rename them if he so chose.

"And nope! My family hasn't known where I am for a looooong, loooooooooong time!" Their perfectly cheery expression doesn't falter. "But it's okay! I made new friends and it doesn't matter."

It seems kind of a weird question to ask, to Frisk, who has always placed covenant over womb, why their family would need to know where they are - wouldn't Toriel, Sans, Undyne - wouldn't they want to know where they are? Not their family, who doesn't care, who probably never looked for them when they climbed Mt. Ebott.

“What about you?”

He swallows, again caught off guard. He couldn’t really tell if they were a girl or a boy–the voice literally indicated neither, leaning towards one with some words and the other with other words. It’s really very confusing, and ‘Frisk’ wasn’t a helpful name to decide either.

Claus decides that it’s too much work to think about it so much. He remembers telling one lady she looked like a man and being given the evil eye, and he didn’t want to repeat that.

“Frisk is okay. It’s your name. I wanna call you by your name.” he nods, very sure of himself. 'Claus’ was an important name too, and he never wanted to be called by anything different.

He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. He wonders something briefly, and before he can stop himself asks it.

“…does your family know you’re here?”

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

“Yay!” It’s such an earnest noise of joy, completely genuine, and Frisk thrusts their hand out to shake Claus’ really very excitedly. At least it isn’t too long of a handshake, and their hands promptly meet again behind their back as they keep rocking on the balls of their feet.

“Hmmm. I don’t know! It’s my name! It’s the name I’ve always had! Is it bad?” No one had ever commented. In fact, so few of their friends had even known their name, until just a short while before they came here, instead of being in the Underground. “If you don’t like it, you can give me another one!“

It’s far from the first time that Frisk would be called - and respond to - something other than their name.

He wasn’t exactly expecting such a bold approach–it was almost startling, but Claus remains pretty stoic aside from shoulders becoming very tense. Blue eyes narrow and brows pinch together; he hesitates on account of it being weird, but honestly his heart can’t help but skip a little beat at the earnest gesture. ‘Friendship’ is waved over his head like a prize written in a foreign language, a bizarre thing he knows he wants but doesn’t feel quite privy to.

But he was here–if he wanted to accomplish anything, he’d need allies. Claus tells himself that to stifle any reservations. He could do this. He clears his throat with a gruff noise.

“Kids gotta stick together,” he states bluntly, something he knows he must have said before. He offers a hand to shake.

“I’m Claus. What kinda name is Frisk? Never heard it before.”

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

@vorepede

Frisk hates the knife. Frisk hates the knife, it's pointy, it cuts - it isn't right, they shouldn't be able to hurt someone, not ever, not accidentally, not on purpose, and though Chara isn't in their head anymore, they don't want to risk it, don’t want to risk the urge returning on its own, even without Chara; they fear what that means.

They see an adult, white hair, and they run up, scurrying, scampering, and they hold the knife out, handle first, blade pointed towards themself. If they realise how frightening this might be - and the potential implications of what the gesture might mean before they speak - it isn't apparent on their face.

"Excuse me, mister? Can you take this? I don't want it..."

[bitsyfrisk-blog]

Another child. That's all Frisk needs to take a dead run in Claus' direction, even if it's clear the boy is older and bigger than they are - it doesn't matter. Another child in the sea of adults; Frisk associates children with safety, with stability, and they come to a quick stop in front of him, trainers screeching as they do so.

"Hi!" Their voice is peppy, closed eyes obscured by too-long bangs that someone desperately needs to cut. "Hi, I'm Frisk! I don't see any other kids here, so we should be friends, is that okay?"

Sweater paw fingers lock behind their back and they tiptoe, as if trying to make up for the fact that they're almost a foot shorter than Claus, but then rock back and forth on the balls of their feet.

@mustbesotired