ishotyouuu | IC Inbox

[Good wording there, buddy. It's lucky, then, that Frisk is hardly paying attention to what he's saying. They just- they picked up the phone (dusty, it's so dusty, they're so sorry) and just

this was the first number they saw. So what Wade gets back isn't a familiar chuckle, it's heavy, shallow panting, and a child's voice projecting a one word question.]

...Hello?

[With that one small word, Wade understands three things almost simultaneously: 1) the person on the other end is not Sans, but a child, 2) Whoever this child is sounds haggard and wrung out, which brings him to 3) something is very, very wrong with Sans.

The joking tone flees Wade's voice in an instant, replaced by something that's gentle yet somber and inquisitive.]

Who is this? Are you okay?

[Are you okay?

They thought it before, and they think it again. They really don't think anyone should be say they, or it, or anything is okay right now. Of course, he (they do know that voice, they think. Vaguely, they must, but it's hard to say. Their head is foggy for more than one reason) doesn't know that.]

Frisk. [The word tumbles out of their mouth, and it doesn't even sound like a word to them, anymore.] I'm Frisk.

Can you help us...please?

[The fact that the owner of this small voice (he remembers them now-- that spunky child who had the audacity to flirt with a dragon) doesn't answer his inquiry about their health is painfully telling. Wade is suddenly, seamlessly all business, and the only thing stopping him from adopting his merc voice is the fact that he's currently talking to a child.]

Where are you.

...I don't know.

[They should- look, though. For a landmark, something that indicates where they are. Quietly glancing over Chara's slumped form, looking up over the surrounding buildings.]

There's a spire, it's not far.

Edited 2017-01-19 14:34 (UTC)

[It takes Wade nearly ten minutes to find the two of them. He could've cut the time short by at least three quarters if he had used his teleporter, but to be honest "there's a spire" wasn't exactly the most specific of instructions, and he didn't want to waste time and precious battery life zipping all over the caverns in an attempt to find these kids.

Finally he spots the familiar striped shirt, standing in bright contrast to the drab brown of the caves, and Wade's long and hasty strides shuffle to an abrupt stop as he gets a better look at the two children.

They look... well. Very much the worse for wear, to put it lightly.]

What happened? [Shock makes his voice terse.]

[Their body is still crumpled on the ground next to them.

It's a tad disconcerting, when they don't really have much else to look at. Their pockets are stuffed full of something- something important. Phone set on the ground next to them. And Frisk is staring at their own body, the blood pooled around it on the pavement, lost in some manner. Not really thinking.

They know they're sitting there, but they're also dead again. The proof is visual; it hardly needs anything more to make them feel as displaced as they are. One battered face looks his way when he talks, lips pursing as Frisk slowly registers the question, slowly comes to some sort of response.

Both kids are covered in dust.]

He was trying to help.

[And even then, it sounds more like they're attempting to defend him, than explain anything at all.]

[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.]

Okay, kiddo. It's okay.

[He was trying to help.

That doesn't tell him much at all, but there's no time for a Q&A session right now. Right now he only needs to concern himself with getting these kids out of whatever mess they've gotten themselves into.

He kneels down in front of Frisk, his expression open and decidedly forthright.]

I got a way to get you and your... [brother? sister?]... friend outta here if you want me to. Might be a little scary at first, but I promise it'll be quick and it's not gonna hurt. Is that okay?

Edited 2017-01-28 22:32 (UTC)

[They squeeze Chara's hands blindly, but their gaze stays on Wade. If they keep concentrating, it helps. If only just a little. Past the dust coating their skin, the bloody knife on the ground. Their own- their double's corpse on the ground, not more than a few feet away. Less.

They told Chara they'd be there when they needed Frisk, too. So they're here.]

...Okay. [A slow nod. Then they turn their head to the other child; the living one, squeezing their hand once more, calling for them. If only quietly.]

Chara...? Sans' friend wants to help.

[Is that okay?]

[Frisk's hand over their own is really the only thing that keeps Chara here. Focus on that. Not on the dust on their skin, in their clothing and hair. Not on the blood clumping due to the dust and ruining their sweater. Frisk's blood and Sans's dust covered them both.

Ahahah...ahah! No. nonononono, focus.

Chara takes a deep breath. It's sickening, but they reach for the Real Knife with their free hand, run a finger along the blade before it disappears into their Inventory. Never go out unarmed. Never.

Then they look up at Frisk, then at Wade. There is someone here.]

...okay. Okay.

[It's okay.]

[Frisk's twin looks more the worse for wear, and for a moment, Wade struggles with the urge to take them both into his arms; to rest his hands on their heads-- anything to assure them that things are going to be okay. But it's ultimately a futile gesture. He doesn't know enough about their plight to assure them of anything, and he's very much against lying to children.]

Okay. Good.

[A pause.]

Um. Thing is, this kinda thing only works with physical contact. [He winces.] Sorry-- I know how that sounds, but it's the truth. You're gonna have to touch me for it to work. Not anything big, just like... a hand on my arm or something.

Is... is that still okay? I mean, it's fine if it's not. We can always find... y'know. Another option. But this's the fastest way I know. Only takes a few seconds, I promise.

[...Mm. Problem. It's nice to know; nice that he said, asked and didn't just show, deal with the consequences later. Chara's here; they heard that. Frisk hopes. They can take the lead for a little longer.]

Okay. [Okay. They start to get to their feet; suck in a breath, pretend that the protest in their ribs in their shoulder and their neck isn't a burning pain that builds the more they try, find their hand gripping Chara's shoulder tightly, mumble a soft apology under their breath. Sorry, sorry.

Their fault, sorry.]

I can-

I'll hold your hand.

[It is a problem indeed, but Wade asks rather than just grabs them both and moves on. They heard and the part of them that is paying attention doesn't want to do it. Chara already has dust and blood all over them. They don't need more things.

But at the same time Frisk needed help and this was the fastest option. They don't address Frisk's sorry and instead allows themselves be used as a support until they are able to stand too.]

I will hold your other...if that is fine.

[Trust. They're trusting him, and for a second Wade finds himself back in another time, in another place, where two small children just like these two had taken the risk to trust him. The thought causes his heart to clench inside his chest, and so he doesn't dwell on it for long. He merely glances down at the two of them with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

He doesn't reach for them; doesn't take their hands, but merely outstretches his hands slightly to indicate that each child should grab hold of them on their own.]

Whenever you're ready, kiddos. Ol' Wade's gonna getcha outta here.

[Thoughts and memories are dangerous. There's little difference between a man offering his hand, and turning in the snow. T u r n..a r o u n d..a n d

Don't think about it a̗̤̤n͚͕̭̘͈̻̩y̘͎̥̦͝m̠o̤̺͜r̬̣͇͟e̪

They feel like they're going to collapse. The threat's there, in weak knees and a sickly sense of heat that wants to bubble up out of their mouth; if they speak, it's going to. One hand stays on Chara's shoulder, knuckles white from how hard they clutch the fabric, trying not to be a burden as they steal support they never asked for.

The other takes Wade's hand as carefully as possible. Fingers curling to hide the shakes. They- there's some kind of sound, quiet. Directed at Chara.

S'ok, Partner. He knows a ṣ̴̼̹̺͖̖h̨̫̼̦̙̗o̷͍̻̱̩͖̳r̛̞̼̟̝̥̜t̡c͇͔̬͚̜͠u̵̖t̮͖͍͖̘̫.

[It's a support they never asked for, but Frisk is something that Chara will support regardless of the weight.

One hand sneaks around to grab Frisk's sweater. They can grip harder, grab more. It's fine. An exception to the rule and they're your humble servant to the end.]

It's okay Frisk. We...are okay.

[They're not. Neither of them are okay or will be okay for a long, long time. But sometimes you just have to say it. It'll be fine for now.

Chara reaches for Wade's hand. Here we go.]

[Wade says nothing, betrays nothing except the gentle way his fingers close around the two tiny hands as if cupping a small bird; a fragile insect. He swallows the lump in his throat before he can even wonder why it was there to begin with, and there's a sudden rough rawness to his voice as he speaks.]

Bodyslide by three.

[He's suddenly awash in the familiar vertigo of his physical form disintegrating into the ether, and his fingers reflexively tighten their grip as if to prevent his two small charges from slipping away from him. A split second goes by-- little more than a second-- and suddenly they've rematerialized outside of Wade's house. He could think of no other place to take them. Hopefully it's all right.

Shaking off the residual dizziness that comes from matter displacement, Wade immediately looks down to check that his passengers made it through the trip just fine.]

Sorry if that was rough. You two okay?

[He hasn't yet let go of their hands.]

[The fact that there is something to feel- almost instantaneous, but note quite- has Frisk returning that squeeze; too tired for alarm, too tired to want to let go. Under the dirt and blood, their skin is waxen, belatedly lifting their head as they realize they aren't still standing in the street. Carpet, under their shoes. Four walls on all sides.

The immediate compulsion is to take off their shoes and stop getting said carpet dirty, and reflexively, they try to bend. A flinch puts a stop to that motion.

Okay. They will be, won't they? Like Sans says; not really okay yet, but they will be. They will be.]

He was trying to help.

[A blank repeat; like it hasn't quite registered yet. Part of them expects to look to their empty left and see him.

Part of them is aware their pockets are stuffed full of dust.]

[It has the opposite effect on Chara, the sudden urge to pull away because someone was holding them and that never, ever ended well. Exceptions to the rule existed. Wade wasn't one of them.

But they know why they're going along. Frisk. Please, at least let them protect one person in this whole mess.

It takes Chara a moment to come to the same realization as Frisk, but their flinch gets them going, moving to hold onto their Partner. It's....well, it's not okay. It won't be okay for a long time. But they can have a semi-okay for now.]

I know Frisk. He came...when we called for help.

[Metaphorically. It was always metaphorically because it was only when things became like this that children like Frisk and Chara would call for help. Only then.

And they now know what happens when they do.]

[Wade observes the two children's interactions like someone observing animals in the wild. It's probably not the most flattering of comparisons, but it's honestly how he feels-- as if he's watching the mannerisms of two small and skittish creatures. Wade's always prided himself on being able to read people, and whether these two know it or not, they're giving him quite a bit to pick up on.

Frisk's fingers tighten around Wade's hand, and so he doesn't let go. Their friend's grip, meanwhile, is stiff and uncomfortable, and so after a few seconds Wade loosens his hold on them, allowing them to let go if they wished.

He still doesn't understand what they're talking about. Or maybe he just doesn't want to. Better not to think of the worst. Better to focus on the immediate needs of two scared children who look more the worse for wear.]

Are either of you hurt? D'you need anything?

[It's-

They guess, after a moment, that it must be a little hard to tell. Two dusty children next to a bloody body, both of them covered in blood themselves. It'd be hard to tell.

They don't want to tell him, don't want to be a bother. Know Chara won't just let them ignore the question, won't let them pass it off as if their Partner is the one who needs all of it. They let out a quiet noise, something between an um and a I think, not up for an argument. Certain that Chara isn't either.]

...Ribs hurt a little.

[Saying that much feels like intruding. They're intruding. How can they say that when Sans'-
Don't think about it anymore. Don't think about it anymore.
Haha. His ribs probably hurt too.]

[Chara is not up for an argument, no. But they do agree that it's hard to tell the exact nature of their injuries when they're both covered in dust and blood. Various nicks where Frisk's double must have caught them with their knife and the back of Chara's knee where they were kicked ached. Not to mention the swarm of bruises and scrapes they must have under their clothing after jumping out of a collapsing building. It was a miracle Chara hadn't broken anything on the way down.

Normally Chara would take care of their own injuries in private and keep the focus on Frisk. But that would lead to a debate. So they speak up, tone flat. Answer the question Chara.]

Frisk was kicked around by their double, for how long I do not know. As for myself I likely have cuts from a knife and the back of my knee hurts.

[Nobody needs to know about the end result of their battle with Sans's double, so Chara doesn't say a single thing. But that's the extent of it.]

[They're handling themselves well, and that's what worries Wade. This is not the attitude of children who are hurt, or even children who are free of hurt. It's the attitude of children who are hurt and are trying not to show it. Have had practice in not showing it, in fact. Wade files it away for future reference. The two of them look too done in to be called out on it now.]

Would it be okay if I... y'know. Took a look? I've got some... some stuff here--

[His hands dig into the pouches at his belt, bringing out some bandages and band-aids that he'd been saving for... well. For a rainy day, he guesses. Lord knows he never needs them.]

I promise I ain't gonna lay a finger on either of you without your say-so, okay? Cross my heart. I just wanna make sure it's not too bad. Your injuries, I mean. Sometimes it's hard to tell when you're the one who's hurt. Believe me, I know.

...Izzat okay?

[He keeps asking, and Frisk is inclined to believe that...if they said no, he'd listen. He'd listen, if they shied away for any reason- if they told him he'd helped too much.

It's nice. They don't think anyone's ever done that before. And with Chara at their side (holding them up, holding on) it's easier to feel a little more brave, easier to think of what, maybe, he would've wanted them to do, if he was here and not just pocketsful of dust. They think of a 'dog and their lips twitch.

It's not the happiest expression they've ever had.]

...I guess.

IC Inbox - hadriel

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Chara's gonna go next!

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