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determinedest) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entranceway2016-10-07 03:55 pm
determinedest) wrote in entranceway2016-10-07 03:55 pm
Entry tags:
- dangan ronpa: mikan tsumiki,
- gravity falls: mabel pines,
- legends of tomorrow: leonard snart,
- life is strange: max caulfield,
- off: zacharie,
- persona 4: seta souji,
- steven universe: connie maheswaran,
- the picture of dorian gray: dorian gray,
- the walking dead game: clementine,
- undertale: alphys,
- undertale: chara,
- undertale: frisk,
- undertale: mettaton,
- undertale: napstablook,
- undertale: sans
video/action; who said that every wish would be heard and answered
[Based on the shot of the grass and the surrounding floral backdrop, it's clear that the feed has switched on in the garden. The phone itself is buried in the grass, tilted at such an angle that the back of Frisk's head is visible as they bend over a crackling piece of paper.
They've a very - singular look to them today, it seems, complete with an oversized blue jacket reminiscent of the one Sans might typically be seen wearing, the sleeves awkwardly bunched at the elbows where they've been rolled up. On their head is something thick and white and almost woolen - a hat that, on closer inspection, has soft horns and long goatlike ears knitted into it. A gift. Something they haven't worn a single time since Toriel's arrival. It had felt too much like an insult to do so.
But currently, they don't intend for anyone to see or hear this except Napstablook, whom they'd been hoping to impress with how much they'd worked on trying to learn the song the little ghost helpfully wrote out for them. The recording isn't private, however, as they must have intended it to be.
Frisk settles onto the grass, facing mostly away from the recording device. For a moment they pluck idly at the strings of the instrument they're holding, one that the musically-inclined might recognize as a ukulele, before they begin to play. They're clumsy and halting, starting and stopping periodically as they struggle to master the instrument. It is difficult, after all, to play with hands that are perpetually bandaged.
Soon, though, Frisk's wavering voice joins the thrumming of the strings. They are not an experienced singer, nor is their playing perfect. Occasionally they have to stop mid-lyric to adjust their fingering, or to play a part of the song over a bit more smoothly. But the music peels out into the crisp autumn air regardless.
Can you hear it?
For a few minutes after the song's conclusion, Frisk sits there on the hump of grass overlooking the garden, apparently contemplating the empty air in front of them.
Then the feed fades out.]
They've a very - singular look to them today, it seems, complete with an oversized blue jacket reminiscent of the one Sans might typically be seen wearing, the sleeves awkwardly bunched at the elbows where they've been rolled up. On their head is something thick and white and almost woolen - a hat that, on closer inspection, has soft horns and long goatlike ears knitted into it. A gift. Something they haven't worn a single time since Toriel's arrival. It had felt too much like an insult to do so.
But currently, they don't intend for anyone to see or hear this except Napstablook, whom they'd been hoping to impress with how much they'd worked on trying to learn the song the little ghost helpfully wrote out for them. The recording isn't private, however, as they must have intended it to be.
Frisk settles onto the grass, facing mostly away from the recording device. For a moment they pluck idly at the strings of the instrument they're holding, one that the musically-inclined might recognize as a ukulele, before they begin to play. They're clumsy and halting, starting and stopping periodically as they struggle to master the instrument. It is difficult, after all, to play with hands that are perpetually bandaged.
Soon, though, Frisk's wavering voice joins the thrumming of the strings. They are not an experienced singer, nor is their playing perfect. Occasionally they have to stop mid-lyric to adjust their fingering, or to play a part of the song over a bit more smoothly. But the music peels out into the crisp autumn air regardless.
Can you hear it?
For a few minutes after the song's conclusion, Frisk sits there on the hump of grass overlooking the garden, apparently contemplating the empty air in front of them.
Then the feed fades out.]
[video]
Although even that probably requires some level of finesse, if you're really good at it!
[video]
[Bullets, spears, bones - whatever's on hand, really.]
I guess. I dunno. It just seems like dancing needs a lot more skill and stuff. Guess that's why I'd...need to learn.
[video]
I've learned dance moves, and I've dodged swords, and I can definitely say that dancing is way easier! Lot less stressful, too.
[video]
I...guess. [It took a lot of trial and error. Or - dying and error, anyway. Frisk laughs, vaguely. Yep. Definitely "good" at it.]
Well, I...I'd better learn, then.
[video]
Maybe Connie's just imagining it.]
You don't need to worry too much! Pearl's really nice, and I'm sure she'll be happy to teach you!
[video]
[As quickly as that uncertainty appeared, it's gone again.]
I mean, we've got all the time in the world here. Might as well learn something!