entranceway | Race #1 (Voice) | During the flooding

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Race #1 (Voice) | During the flooding

[There's sound coming through, but it's breathing sounds. Very, very relieved-sounding breathing sounds. And then, a few seconds later, a child's voice pipes up.]

Gotta question. Other than th' obvious "What is this place?", why is it floodin' in this place?

[She'd appeared right in the hallway, underwater, and in a panic managed to find herself in an empty bedroom.]

An' where is everyone? What kinda game is this?

[It may not seem obvious at first, but she doesn't even realize she's got the device on, in her panic. She's merely talking to herself.]

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So... the mansion is just part'a Wonderland.

[Small steps.]

Um... nice t'meet ya, Frisk. Name's Vanellope.

I kinda guessed it wasn't. Doesn't seem normal for most of a mansion t'be flooded. How big is th' mansion? Is there a way to know where I am in it without havin' t'try an' swim fer my life?

[She asked their name, and they didn't ask hers. What kind of person are they? That's not how this is meant to work. Do better, do better. Work harder at it.]

Big. Goes on forever. It's been going on for...

[How long? They can't say. They've never been on this side of the RESET before. Can't keep track of the days. For a moment their gaze slides away from her, the heel of one palm rising to grind at an eyesocket, expression screwed into a tight furrow of concentration.]

It should be over in a few...days.

[The flood, not the mansion. But they're not in the proper frame of mind to specify just now.]

[Big. The mansion is big. Not a great frame of reference, but something to keep in mind.]

It? The floodin'? [Yes, duh, she thinks.]

Well, at least it'll be over soon.

[Jolt.]

Well, at least it'll be over soon.

[Jolt.]

Well, at least--

... [She looks away for a second.] Know I said that already, but feels like I haven't.

[Must have reached the end of the loop. It - tears for a moment, and there's the prickle in their head, familiar. The shuddering, tearing jolt of the world being wound back like a clock.

At least it'll be over soon.

Jolt.

At least it'll be over soon.

At least -

It'll be over soon. Relatively speaking. Their hand drags down, slowly, fingers over their eyes even as they lid, half-closed.]

It's a RESET.

A... reset...? [That feeling of deja vu was pretty strong. Is time going back?]

It's part'a all this, too...? [She's getting too curious. Bombarding the other with too many questions. She needs to slow down.]

Are... are ya gonna be okay? [She's a little concerned. Not that she knows what's 'okay' for anyone around here, or this place in general.]

RESET. Start over.

[Continue?]

[What choice do they have? They don't get the option to QUIT, or to keep playing to win; they can only play the Game as it comes to them, as it changes. The Puppet, never the Puppeteer.

Zacharie was right.

Are you gonna be okay?

Answers that drop from their mouth like knives, automatic, only they don't come at all. Nobody comes when you call. Try to smile, but the impulse just makes them feel sick all over. So...settle for blankness. Even tone, even features. No smiles, just a wealth of calmness, of composure. Don't cry out. Don't call for help.

No one likes children who cry.]

I did this, you know.

[So time's rewinding. Kinda.

The next answer startles her. An answer she isn't expecting. An answer that begins to make her question things. Can she question that? She doesn't really know this other kid at all. Her voice turns quieter, more unsure than before.]

Wh...what d'ya mean, 'ya did this'...?

That special power. The ability to play God.

[The ability to RESET, to ERASE everyone's memories of what's happened. No consequences, no setbacks. None, except from the select few who could and would hold them accountable.

...that's not what happened. They're going to scare her again, and it'll be their fault. Don't be like this, Frisk. Why are you like this.

So. Be clear. Clarify. Don't scare people.]

Wonderland took it.

Y'can play God? What, d'ya have th' ability t'turn back time too? Is that what yer sayin'? [It's the feeling she's getting.]

Did they take it during all this, or when you got here?

[A child falls upon a bed of golden flowers - no, upon a bed of sand stained with snow. They say they've fallen, even if they woke up, minus a voice in their head and minus the requisite Determination to reach for their SAVE file.

A child falls upon a bed of golden flowers, and time bends to their touch.]

It was gone when I fell.

When ya fell? When didja fall?

[Are they trying to say they could've done something about the time rewinding if they had their power? She knows absolutely nothing about time powers. Just powers like her own. The power to teleport, to warp code and slip through it.]

Was it before or after you wound up here?

A year ago. I fell...here.

[They didn't "fall," exactly. But they're used to falling into new places. It's easier to say they fell, of course. A child falls down a hole. A child falls down the stairs. A child falls on the playground. The skinned knees, chipped tooth, bruised skull - those are accidents.

All of them are just accidents.]

Into Wonderland.

Ya've been here for a year? That's gotta be rough, bein' away from home for so long. For a whole year t'pass...

It's better like that.

[Hurting fewer people. Instead of an Underground full of monsters, a pseudo-Surface full of humans - and monsters, but they can't seem to help that either. Not so Fun, not being the one in control, is it?]

Is it...? Musta been rough back home, then, huh?

[For them... or for others. Rough in general. There's a lot about this kid Vanellope doesn't know.]

[It doesn't matter. No part of them matters.]

Time doesn't move here.

[An oblique answer at best, and one that really only pulls things neatly together when one is granted the adequate context - which Vanellope hasn't. But she's hardly to blame for that one.

No. That onus is on Frisk. As always.]

It doesn't? Then... it always stands still?

[How does that work? How are they moving around with time not moving?]

How does anyone know what th' time or day is, then?

It's just the same day. Over and over.

[And whose fault is that? Who's the one who can't let go, who's straining to find the best ending, as if that justifies it? This is what they put them through, every single one of them.

How are any of them able to stand them?]

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Race #1 (Voice) | During the flooding

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