[Someone is talking. 'Someone' and Frisk. Chara doesn't know. Doesn't much care.
There's nothing else besides the smell of blood and dust, and it's in part of why Chara can't breath that well. That's the trouble with dust, you know. It gets in your nose, in your hair and eyes and under your nails. They can even taste it on their tongue and Chara can't think about it without feeling like they're going to be sick.
So don't. Chara doesn't touch the Real Knife that's laying somewhere, covered in Frisk's own blood. There's another thought that makes them sick again, so they discard it. Find Frisk's hands and gives them a squeeze. Ignore their own loathing of touch for this. They didn't kill their Partner. Not this time. Not this time.
Frisk is going to have to do the talking here. As far as Chara is concerned right now, Wade doesn't yet exist. Not yet.]
no subject
There's nothing else besides the smell of blood and dust, and it's in part of why Chara can't breath that well. That's the trouble with dust, you know. It gets in your nose, in your hair and eyes and under your nails. They can even taste it on their tongue and Chara can't think about it without feeling like they're going to be sick.
So don't. Chara doesn't touch the Real Knife that's laying somewhere, covered in Frisk's own blood. There's another thought that makes them sick again, so they discard it. Find Frisk's hands and gives them a squeeze. Ignore their own loathing of touch for this. They didn't kill their Partner. Not this time. Not this time.
Frisk is going to have to do the talking here. As far as Chara is concerned right now, Wade doesn't yet exist. Not yet.]