interstellar5555 | Have you forgotten what you have and what is yours?

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Have you forgotten what you have and what is yours?

Who: Greg, then open to Agent Apartment residents
What: Lapis confronts Greg about the things she's learned from Steven; life with Agent Apartment residents
Where: Beach, then Agent Apartment
When: Early April
Warnings: Angry blue lady.

A. Closed to Greg - She's waiting there for Greg when he comes -- a blue wraith in the near-darkness, stepping out from behind the rocks when she's sure he's alone. The ocean is restless that night, with a smell of a storm rolling in from the sea; the waves fidget, lashing against the sands in fitful bursts like energy just barely contained.

There are things she needs to discuss with him. She's been waiting.

B. Open to Agent Apartment - With the combination of the city being so close to the sea and the wet season upon them, it's not infrequent that Lapis -- or rather, Luna -- comes to Agent Apartment damp . . . even dripping. Find her when she comes in the door, or when she's dryer (hair much fluffier) and herself again, curling up in a corner of the couch with a minute sigh of what could be pleasure/relief.

She never makes a big deal of her presence; she generally settles in to watch whatever action is currently going on, leaning on the couch arm with a half-smile, her legs tucked up underneath her.

C. Closed to Steven - She gets to see him almost regularly now -- generally later into the evening, when practices are complete and most of the rest of the dancers are packing up or in the showers. Unnoticed, Lapis separates from the others, heading off. (The others are already convinced that Luna is a little stuck up, never staying and talking or going out afterwards with them. Lapis herself has barely noticed.)

She heads off to the designated meeting spot -- a quiet corner in one of the empty practice rooms, readily out of sight of the door. Legs tucked up underneath her skirts, she sits waiting for him, rolling a bit of the fabric between her fingers.

Today there's a woven bag beside her. She's hoping what's inside will lift his spirits.

D. Closed to Frisk - I want to bring him back before Papyrus knows.

The words haven't quite left Lapis since Papyrus appeared in the apartment. At first it's merely something to tuck away -- something to check on with Frisk once they reappear, something to resolve and put aside.

The problem is that Frisk doesn't reappear.

Even that wouldn't completely be a worry; Frisk is often out and about the city, and between their intermittent stops in Agent Apartment and Lapis', missing each other is par for the course.

The bigger problem is that word comes through that Sans has been captured.

And Frisk doesn't return.

Those two facts are what prompt Lapis to move. Though she can't take time off practice, she takes time from the spa, using the extra hours to comb places they tend to be or that she thinks would attract them.

Maybe it's nothing.

But she can't get rid of the echo of the words in her own head.

The warehouse is one of the last places she checks. It doesn't rate high on the list of places she might expect them to be, abandoned long ago and used only for the briefest of intervals. But. She's checked so many other places, and this can't be left from the list.

Her feet are light, barely audible as she steps into the space. The vastness of it stretches over her, around her -- makes her wary. For a moment she lingers close to the door, one hand still on the knob.

Calling quietly: "Hello?"

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[Lapis' attention is immediately drawn to the newcomer on the couch, eyes flicking wide -- not only for the fact that he's new, but because. Well. She's not sure what she's seeing. She doesn't know what he is. He appears to be . . . vaguely human-shaped? But not human. Not filled out and soft, but . . . hard. Angular.]

[. . . And somewhat familiar? Even if she can't possibly place how offhand.]

[She halts in the doorway, looking very much like she's not sure if she should enter or flee.]

[Though her social skills have gotten better, in the case of surprise, some things haven't changed.]

[Papyrus hums to himself, looking at the most recent posting. One of the people he'd met before was asking for pictures and stories of all the musicians people knew. The better to recognize them, and rescue them as everybody had chances. A good idea, certainly. But... what to say?]

[Movement in the corner of his sight was nothing to pay attention to, as people come and go all the time... but the way she suddenly came to a stop? That was a reason to glance over. And so, his first impression is blue.]

Undyne???

[Papyrus reaches up, turning the communicator off to get the images out of his sight... and realizes that no, this is a stranger, who looks like she's not sure what she's doing.]

Oh. No, you're not Undyne. Hello!

[Lapis backs up half a step before she even thinks about it, startled by the fervent attempt at recognition. Her eyes are still wide, watching him, but from there she holds her ground.]

Hello.

[Brief, worried silence.]

Who . . . are you?

[He hasn't done something to the others, has he?]

[He poses, hand to his chest and head held high. It's not quite the same without a scarf/cape fluttering behind him, but he carries himself like there should be one.]

I? I am the great Papyrus!

[And... right. She's from another world or something, and might not have heard of him. So just in case...]

A friend of Frisk's!

[Admittedly it's hard to be impressive in a tank top and shorts, too. They just don't lend themselves to dramatic flourish.]

[Lapis stares at him blankly for a long moment, clearly completely missing what she's supposed to be seeing here. The silence hangs in the air between them for a long moment: Papyrus posing for all he's worth, Lapis staring blankly back at him.]

[That last part helps a bit more, breaking the very pregnant pause.]

You . . . know Frisk? [That does help, and her body language eases minutely.] . . . J knows that you're here?

[He just needs to customize them. If the tanktop is labeled something like GREAT HERO or COOL DUDE it'll be much more impressive.]

[His smile strains through the silence, since her blank stare wasn't an expected reaction. At least Frisk's name gets a reaction.]

Yes! J brought me here himself, and Frisk is a good friend of mine. We're saving my brother! And Undyne and Toriel.

[Yes, Papyrus. That will totally make the difference.]

[She relaxes more with the assurance -- and suddenly recalls where she's seen him.]

Frisk . . . drew a picture of you. A couple of months ago. He showed it to me.

[I want to bring him back before Papyrus knows.]

[The words flash through her mind.]

[Frisk . . . how must they be feeling at this change of events? Her eyes soften, betraying a flicker of concern.]

[You know it.]

[He drops the pose to clap his hands together, delighted by Lapis' recollection.]

A picture of me? That's right! Frisk said they told people about me. All good things!

[Whatever they're feeling, they haven't mentioned it to Papyrus. He asked how Frisk's been, if they're holding up okay... but really, once they rescue his brother and their other friends, anything they might be feeling sad or guilty about will be over and done with. No sense dwelling on it!

Really. Dwelling on wanting to fix this, quickly, would just make anybody miserable. The idea of Sans angrily lashing out at people, or interrogating people from a place of cold unfamiliarity... Thinking about those sorts of things would just get him down, and make it that much harder to succeed.]

Would . . . there be bad things to tell too?

[The way he emphasizes the good things, it's only logical that there might be bad things, right?]

[. . . Lapis is still not always good at this meeting people/conversation thing. The question is meant as benign, though; if Frisk and J have trusted him so far, it's probably okay.]

Frisk might show it to you. If you want.

[Looping back:] I haven't . . . heard those other names.

[Oh, what's a little kidnapping and thwarted murder between friends? It all worked out in the end. So Papyrus figures it doesn't count as 'bad things.']

[But... To think that Frisk didn't mention Undyne or Toriel? His smile sags a little, and he glances off towards where Frisk sleeps. Are they not very confident in everyone's chances of success...? Or...]

Oh, well! That hardly means a thing. Frisk is not very talkative at the best of times! But maybe they drew a picture of Sans too?

[In a stage whisper:] He is my brother. And I know he's still a musician.

[Well, Lapis would probably be the pot talking to the kettle if she said anything against that.]

[She catches the fading smile and the sideways glance. These names, then . . . they mean something to him. Somehow he believes they've been here -- or are here. It's possible that she's at least missed some of the names of the musicians, but . . . somehow, she doesn't think so.]

[Someone else, perhaps, might have suggested that their names had simply gotten changed. But while Lapis has gotten better at comfort, she's usually straightforward, and adjustment and softening don't always come naturally.]

[At the very least, she lapses into silence on the subject.]

[Second question: Why is he whispering? Not even thinking about it, she drops her voice a little in turn, matching him halfway.]

. . . Is it supposed to be a secret? That you're related?

I didn't see a picture. But that doesn't mean they didn't draw one. [Hesitation.] Though if he looks like you, he may look a different right now, too. There's only humans here. . . . Or at least the labels want people to think so.

Edited 2016-04-18 16:27 (UTC)

[There's hypocrisy, and then there's character growth. But maybe she's not that far yet.]

[He keeps up the stage whisper, because he has a skeleton's unerring sense for the theatrical.]

Oh, I know! Not only did they make him look human... they made him forget a lot of things too!

It shouldn't be a secret, but right now it is, even to him! He doesn't remember a thing about me.

[Which was a real crime, because let's face it, Papyrus is Sans' main reason for making an effort at anything anymore. He certainly doesn't care enough about himself to do anything for his own sake.]

[If Papyrus' voice is a little too cheerful, and a glimmer of liquid at one of his eyesockets... well, that's nothing a quick swipe with a glove won't fix. No need to be teary about this! They'll rescue Sans soon and everything will be okay.]

[She's got character growth. Unfortunately . . . her first attempt at using it ended up in Pretty Good but Really Awful Things. That's another story, though.]

[She watches him as he says that, because the words . . . just don't match the situation at all, and there's a wonder in that -- surprise mixed with confusion and uncertainty.]

[Until she catches the tear. And suddenly she understands: This isn't honesty.]

[Why it isn't honesty, though . . . that's surely a story all its own.]

[She watches him a moment more, then offers quietly,]

Frisk . . . will be glad you're here. They might stay more.

[Which is a good thing, in her opinion -- even though she doesn't exactly do that herself.]

[It's not quite comfort . . . but it's meant to be without confronting his preference to stay hidden.]

[But she'll still remember.]

[She might come to recognize a similar trait in Sans. Emotional honesty is difficult and painful. Cheerful levity makes everyone feel better!]

[In the short term, at least.]

Stay... more?

[They did seem to be constantly on the move. Never sticking around in one place for very long.

[His phone conversations must have been their grounding point, their guiding star through the underground. And after, outside, they'd had many friends and people to keep up with. But here...?]

[Well. Frisk's been lonely for entirely too long.]

[Ah, Papyrus . . . that may be a lie that you're telling yourself.]

[But while it's not a life she could stand, she can't exactly blame him for it, either. Sometimes it would be nice to hide away in the lie, draw it close and safe. Hiding is something she understands.]

Frisk and I . . . we stay here sometimes. Just. Not usually.

[She's never known where Frisk goes, and she's never asked. They've always seemed able -- and preferred -- to take care of themselves. But if their existence is anything like her own, if their consistent return to Agent Apartment is any indication, sometimes the flow of people around them eases, soothes. Becomes necessary in this place.]

[Frisk has always had people who have cared for them here. But it's a different relationship sometimes with people from home.]

So . . . yes. More?

[Well, yes. It is, undeniably, a denial. But is it the kind of lie that stays a lie? Or is it the kind where, if you try hard enough to change it, the lie becomes truth?]

[Probably the former, but he won't find out unless he keeps trying.]

Oh, hmmm. I hope you're right!

[He'd noticed that Frisk was out of the apartment a lot, but wasn't that from working at their job, investigating this or that related to their rescuing mission, and... presumably making friends? That was something they did a lot back home. Listening as others talked, and becoming friends.

If that wasn't what they were doing, then the only explanation...]

Maybe they've been homesick. This place isn't home, especially without any friends from home... You're right! I'm sure they'll be around more now that I'm here!

[Fair, but admittedly somewhat dubious an idea with limited statistical effectiveness.]

[Otherwise . . . that's the spirit, Papyrus. With . . . a bit of extra ego, but she can deal with that. Her head dips an assent -- some attempt at encouragement. She allows herself to ease, to venture a little further into the room.]

They've told you everything -- the others?

[Just making sure nothing needs to be filled in.]

[Good morale is very valuable, and anything that boosts it--even pretending that things are going to work out--might be worthwhile even if it isn't otherwise effective.]

[Papyrus tilts his head to scratch at the underside of his jaw, considering Lapis' question. His 'others' are Undyne, and Toriel, and more musicians he hasn't heard of yet. But if she means Frisk's others, or some other others, then this conversation is a little too enigmatic for him.]

There's so many others that I don't know who you mean! Frisk's other friends?

[She suspects he might be making this a little complicated. She blinks, a little off guard with the question.]

The . . . others here in the apartment. Other . . . rescuers?

[Though technically they probably are other friends of Frisk? Just . . . that group is probably bigger than who lives within this apartment, and-- . . .]

[Don't confuse her, Papyrus; she overthinks things as it is trying to sort out these humans.]

Oh! Them! Yes. I know them! Most of them. Some of them...?

[It's a surprisingly crowded apartment.]

J, and Frisk, and Connie, and Robin, and...

[There were a few others, but it's not like anybody wrote out a list of who lived where. They're spies! They don't want all their eggs in one basket! This place is probably like a whole dozen carton already.]

[It kind of is. Welcome to Agent Apartment.]

I don't . . . know that last person.

[But who even knows with this apartment.]

Did they tell you everything, though?

Edited 2016-04-24 18:26 (UTC)

Robin's friendly. And she recommended wigs!

[Papyrus: your best choice for a character witness.]

No, everything would be way too much! But they told me a lot of things. About kidnappers, and musicians, and... brain surgery?

[Tracking chips in brains is never going to stop being gross. High five for people who aren't strictly biological, right?]

[Lapis is so starting to get lost in this conversation. Wigs?? How is that-- . . .]

[Well, technically she guesses he is bald, compared to humans. But. That doesn't really hide his face, so--]

[Lapis attempts to pull herself back on track.]

That sounds like . . . mostly everything. [She thinks, anyway.]

Did . . . you have questions?

[Trying to help.]

[That's what excellent scarves are for. Scarves and big glasses. Papyrus might look like a massive hipster when he leaves the apartment, but they mostly do the job, and that's what matters.]

Good! I wouldn't want to be out of the loop. The loop is where all the action happens.

[Questions, questions... Well, there's one obvious one.]

Do you have somewhere safe to sleep? You're very blue! And the holograms only last a few hours...?

[Not long enough to cover a nap in a public place and go about daily business.]

[Hipster chic, Papyrus. Settle for nothing less.]

[The part about the loop is completely lost on her. But then again, she feels like good parts of this conversation are. Papyrus wields words like pepper shot, blasting them everywhere with aplomb.]

[Meanwhile, of all the questions he could have asked . . . he asks one about her and how she fends for herself. That's surprising.]

[The others in this apartment . . . they've done that too, in one way or another. They take care of her, and they take care of each other.]

[It still seems so strange . . . but she's come to crave the warmth of it -- and to want to give it back in kind.]

What?

[She stares down at one of her arms.] Oh . . .

[There's a blossoming of light. The young woman that emerges is Asian -- more accurately, Vietnamese, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and deeper-skinned, with minor alterations to her features that are more in line with her apparent heritage. Beyond that, though, there are strong lingerings of Lapis -- down to the blue streaks, almost electric, against the background of her dark hair, its style otherwise untouched.]

[Another burst of light, and she shifts again -- an echo of him, though with all of Lapis' gravity, probably looking strange on his features.]

I change. But . . . sleeping isn't really important for me.

[Hesitation.]

I just . . . come here. Sometimes.

[There's something unsaid in that last statement. It's hard enough to speak of her relationship to this place and its importance to her to someone else. It's even harder to a stranger.]

Have you forgotten what you have and what is yours?

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