entranceway | [video/text]

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[Chara's outside. They have their device on the ground, propped up against a rock, so their hands are free. They're crouched down in the mud, on the shore of a pond somewhere - there's a bush of purple flowers in the background, mostly obscuring the maze of massive tree-trunks. They're out having some kind of childish adventure, presumably. Two things sit by their feet: a thermos of something-or-other and a freshly-gathered bouquet of white flowers.

They're washing that favourite old switchblade off in the water. Must have cut the flowers, not picked them. They flick it dry, click the blade shut, and pocket it. Pick up the bouquet, hold it up so their face is all but hidden by the lovely white blooms.]

Pretty, are they not? Narcissus. A member of the daffodil family. They get their name because... well, I'm not entirely familiar with the myth, actually. I know Narcissus was some guy who loved himself. He loved himself so much, he died.

[A very abridged version, and they might be wrong, but they think they've got the base details down. They shrug, smile, start to neatly divide their bouquet: a pile of flowers on this side, and they pluck all the leaves off and set them down on the other side.]

It is a tangent, Wonderland, but I wonder. Could you get me up to speed on what we know about the mirror side? Can we cross to that side if we want to? Can the mirror folk cross the barrier as they please? If not, is there someone or something in charge of the decision? I'm curious.

[Their flowers sufficiently... de-leafed... they pick up the thermos. Ginger tea, sweetened with honey. Good for queasiness. Honey makes it taste better, soothes a sore throat. They think, fleetingly, of Asgore. Because they think of Asgore, they think of Toriel. Don't... quite know how to approach the topic of Asriel. Don't want to talk about it. Don't want to think about it. Don't want to bear acknowledging they live in a world without him again. But is anyone else... checking on them?

...Couldn't hurt. Maybe. To just... maybe not about him, can't utter his name. To just... say hi.

They cut the video feed. Reach for their phone, type some texts out.]

[Private text to Asgore]

I was going to attach a picture. I've started work on a sweater - pink again, if that is okay. It's back in our room, though, and I don't think I'll be back there for a couple days.

I suppose I just wanted to let you know you'll have something to look forward to. =)

[Private text to Toriel]

I know it is unkind to gossip, but perhaps you ought to know that Sans took poorly at the end of this last event. I am aware he is a friend of yours, so I feel you should be aware. Perhaps he would feel better if someone came to check on him? Company always makes a hard time easier.

Here is a joke that the both of you might like:
Why did the pie go to the dentist? Because it needed a filling.

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["It's you," in that voice they use. Not the red voice--the other one. Authoritative, declarative.]

["You"? As in him? But that makes no sense whatsoever.]

and...who are you?

[Be the immovable object. Don't let them get away.]

chara, who are you?

[Well? Answer him. He didn't hear me, so you answer him this time.

* Still just you, Frisk.

...Right? No, not right. There's only silence. Alone in their head. When did they start thinking in plural? Not them, not even them. Just them. Only pretending to be...]

Sorry.

[I hate sorry. You keep saying sorry over and over.

He's still putting the answer right into the question. Shouldn't they be insulted? It's patronizing. They're not stupid. They're "his Chara" here, he says, like some kind of consolation prize, but maybe they aren't his Chara. Maybe they aren't "Chara" in his universe at all. Maybe all this time, they were supposed to be using an entirely different name, and they've been getting it wrong from day one. It's only the true name to them, to Asriel, because nobody else uses their name. So what right do they really have to call it the true name at all? Their Asriel isn't here. Maybe their Asriel was never here.

Nobody used any name at all when they called the demon to this world. Frisk didn't call them. They only defaulted to "Chara" because they always default to "Chara" when the space that contains a name goes blank. Maybe, if they're not really anyone's Chara, they don't have a name at all. Maybe their name is silence, the blackness and chill of an empty void.

...Start over. Start again.]

N... name the fallen human.

[It seems like he's getting somewhere. Maybe. Maybe he's just pushing them in deeper.]

it's okay.

[It's so weird. They don't apologize. He can't remember if they ever have, at least not without some degree of sarcasm. What are they even apologizing for?]

[Name the fallen human. They've said that before. Early on, months ago now. Sometimes it feels like years. They've said they wear all kinds of different names. "The demon that comes when you call its name." Only the name keeps changing.]

[No wonder they broke. He told them there were others out there, different names, when that's what they've struggled with since the start. Who are they? Who is Chara? What is Chara?]

[This is too much responsibility for someone like him. He's going to ruin this. He's going to make this worse. But he...doesn't know what else to do.]

okay. okay, then.

i'm naming the falling human "chara."

chara who pretends. pretends to be a lot of things. pretends not to feel. pretends not to care. pretends to be okay. chara who probably...feels so much they can't bear it.

[There's a frantic edge coming to his voice.]

chara who likes flowers. chara who knows what soil pH means. chara who likes chocolate and stupid candy wrapper jokes. chara who asks uncomfortable questions. chara who takes care of frisk when no one else bothers. chara who--loves their family.

[Dangerous territory. Dangerous game he's playing. Stupid, stupid Sans.]

chara who used to call themself a demon but doesn't anymore.

[The hell is he doing? Who the hell does he think he is? Is he ascribing too much meaning to the wrong things? This is all superficial. He doesn't even know them. He doesn't know them at all.]

chara who would think this is so stupid. isn't this condescending? you'd be so pissed off that i think i know you. you'd call me a hypocrite. this is so...as if, heh, as if you're just a list of traits.

[He scrubs at his eyesockets.]

i could use that pun again. hate using the same pun twice in a row. chara-bout you. you wouldn't believe me. you'd think it was a trick. sans showing mercy again. sans showing MERCY.

[get dunked on]

even if i claimed it was true. and it is true, and i don't get it either. but i say a lot of "true" things. heh. i talk an awful lot for someone who never says anything. funny, right?

[He's hilarious. Regular comedian.]

i got...no idea what i'm doing here, kid. i never know what i'm doing with you.

[And he's still talking. All he ever does is talk.]

too late now. guess i already named you. "chara." heh, they say when you name something, you get attached to it.

[Don't give them names, Sans. They'll be dead by tomorrow.]

i'm sorry, kid. i'm...

[He trails off. Shuts up. Leaves it at that. He's said and done enough.]

[They stand in a golden hallway. Bells toll in the distance. A silhouette blocks the path, covered in shadow, shaded by the pillars rising on each side of the room. A mirror image of the time they first met. Home was gold, New Home was gray. Snowdin was gray, the Last Corridor is gold.

Now, their every action is judged.

They know what they deserve at LV 8. They've been LV 8 for a long time now. Even if it never goes up, it's never going down. They made their choice long ago. They know the script by heart.

But this isn't in the script. They're not in a golden hallway. They're at the edge of a pond, by some hydrangeas, because it was a deliberate choice. Just like using the same flowers that had made Asgore ill. They're in on the joke. They know what they deserve. This... isn't it. This is so far off-script they don't even know what to make of it.

This is... stupid. Pointless. Doesn't mean anything. He'll leave Wonderland someday, too, and all of this will be like everything that proves Frisk isn't interchangeable, isn't replaceable, isn't just a name to shuffle around to different blank faces. His "Chara" - his Tessa, his Jake, his Kuro, his Fang, his anything... he doesn't know what they like. They can't even ask what their name was, because he doesn't know, does he? He judges them time after time, pins them to the floor with a sword engraved "won't EVER be happy," and he doesn't even know they exist. They...

God, he's right. They think this is stupid.

Doesn't he even realize what he's doing? The absurd double-standard he's laying down? It's a sin just to own the name Chara. Only a dirty hacker would know that name. It's buried, just like they are. And yet he decides to use it? Decides to list off things that shouldn't matter, should have stopped mattering, should never have been important enough for the Underground to remember.]

...The true name.

[They duck their head, hide behind their bangs. Breathe. Just breathe. Like a living thing does.]

* It's me, Chara.

[Should be a bad thing, shouldn't it? A horrifying red flag, when they change it. Acknowledge themselves instead of you. They lost their grip on something, but wasn't it something that deserved to be thrown out in the first place?]

Why are... why are you apologizing to me? Why are you like this?

[Stupid. Pointless. Doesn't mean anything.]

[He's a hypocrite. Turns out he's been one the whole time.]

[But it...works. They come back. Slowly. Like they're clawing their way back to themselves, and that's always what they end up doing, isn't it? Despite everything that's happened, everything that keeps happening, they keep coming back. *It's me, Chara.]

[If we're really friends, you won't come back. But don't you know how to greet a new pal?]

[His eyelights went out at some point and haven't come back. His eyesockets are half closed.]

[He looks directly at them, or seems to, and...shrugs.]

i dunno.

selfish, i guess. sick of losing people.

[Funny, right? Funny, because he's actually used to it. He's accepted it, and he doesn't even know for how long. Someone told him a few months ago that that's what he means--that's what his name means, and isn't that just a glorious, stupid irony? Sans. French, whatever French is, for "without." "Loss."]

["Loser."]

[How melodramatic. He should be laughing.]

[They peer up from between the protective thicket of their bangs. His eyes are dark. Like when he promises a bad time. Like when he reminds them they'll be dead where they stand.

Everything in them wants to look away, but they don't.

They're not intimidated by adults. He probably isn't even doing it on purpose. It's probably like when he looked like he'd Fallen Down, and he's just too exhausted. Like a flashlight with low batteries.

Monsters could always look them in the eye, even if those eyes were creepy and red. They can look a monster in the eye, even if it's dark and empty.

They're twisting their sleeves, though, scrunching the fabric up beyond hope. Can feel the subtle bumps of ribbing, the familiar feeling of knit texture beneath their fingers, too thick for wearing in summer but still theirs. They wear striped shirts. Same size, same color as Asriel's. Our clothes. Sitting in the dresser in the room they share. Down the hall to the right, first door on the left. Their home. New Home.

Familiar things.]

You just...

You really don't make any sanse at all.

[There. There's their smile.

My smile.]

You're talking to me about losing people?

[They lost the most important person of all. They almost lost Sans in a single impulsive stab.

Feels absurd that they'd even consider it "losing" Sans. That Sans could ever remotely be someone whose absence they'd feel, let alone register as a loss.]

I thought comedians were all about their sense of timing.

[This. This is familiar. They've come back. Back to jokes and sarcasm and calling him on his bullshit.]

[His eyelights flicker back on, but they're dim. They fix on Chara all the same. The perpetual, meaningless grin twitches briefly into something genuine.]

there you are.

welcome back.

[It's sad without much inflection. They're back. He's glad. But he's out of energy for this. For any of this. He's run dry.]

[He shrugs again.]

tough crowd, i guess.

I'm booing you offstage.

[They don't know if they feel too full or too empty. Like a dense... like antimatter? Is antimatter dense? They don't really know what antimatter is. They grasp for a simile, come up empty-handed, just let the thought drift away.]

Go take a break.

[He looks tired. They refuse to make a "bone tired" joke on principle, but it still butts into their head. It's not even funny. The punchline's been done to death. Repetition is the antithesis of comedy.

But he looks tired.

Chara's tired, too.]

I'm... not letting this go, though. We'll talk about it later. When I've had time to think about this.

[Too much to swallow all at once.

Ha. Unlike flowers.]

that's fair.

[They really are back, then.]

[Good.]

[They tell him to take a break and he just nods. Yes, of course. Taking breaks. The best part of any day.]

sounds good.

guess i'll...see you later.

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