Have you forgotten what you have and what is yours?

[oceantier]

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?"

Comments

[determinate]

Oh. Okay.

[Well sure, they can do that too. Frisk shrugs and steps back on. If they want to really show her, and not just show off, they should pick a slower song...they end up choosing the easiest one on the list.

Their steps are quick and assured; it's easy for them at this level.]

[oceantier]

[She's watching carefully, intently, eyes moving between the screen and the movement of Frisk's feet.]

[It . . . looks doable.]

Okay . . .

I think . . . I can try.

[determinate]

[She's ready to try now? Awesome! Frisk hops off the pad and to the side, where they can watch.]

Try the same one. [It's easy enough, and she just saw them do it too. People have more fun when they start off easy, instead of getting all frustrated.]

[oceantier]

Okay.

[She tries to follow what she remembers them doing to make the selection -- and fumbles a bit, but manages.]

[She's definitely self-conscious of being watched as the music starts, and uncertain, toeing the arrows without much conviction, making mistakes. But the process is absorbing, and slowly she focuses in on it, blocking out the world around her to follow the machine's demands. Up, down, down, left . . .]

[How's she doing?]

[determinate]

[Frisk curls up on the couch to watch, observing her feet rather than the screen. She's doing pretty well for her first time! Especially since Frisk is pretty sure Lapis doesn't do things like video games wherever she came from.

Once it's over, they'll flash her a smile and thumbs-up.]

Fun?

[oceantier]

[There's a tiny smile as she finishes -- tiny and pleased, still caught up in the flush of success.]

Yes.

It gets . . . harder, doesn't it?

[Are you saying you're ready for the next level, Lapis? We think you are.]

[determinate]

A lot.

[Frisk agrees with a nod. It gets much, much harder.]

[oceantier]

I'd like to try.

[Though they may not want to kill her on the expert levels yet.]

[determinate]

Okay.

[Frisk moves over to the controller, stepping a few times to scroll through the song list. Some of the two-star songs are a lot harder than other ones, so they might as well pick something a little easier...]

This one?

[oceantier]

[She nods an agreement, watching. She has no idea what she's doing; she's trusting them in this.]

Okay.

[determinate]

[Frisk nods and selects the song. It's only a little bit harder - easier for being a popular song, though they're not sure Lapis would know it. They've been listening to the music around here, since arriving.]

[oceantier]

[She's been trying. She gets some of it from work -- after all, she can't exactly avoid it if she's dancing to it. It's also, of course, in nearly every business in this city . . . though she doesn't frequent those any more than she has to.]

[But most of it has never felt quite . . . right to her, as though in the background she knows it's been forced, squeezed from brains that weren't willing to give it. She doesn't actively seek any of it out unless she reminds herself that she probably should.]

[She's curious what they make of it as the song starts up; she tilts her head a little as the first beats ring out, and she watches for the arrows.]

What do you think of it? -- The music here?

[It does seem to permeate everything.]

[determinate]

...weird.

[It's more than that, of course, but Frisk's one to pick their words carefully, get them all together before they finally put them to speech.]

It sounds good, but it's fake, and it's everywhere. And it's weird that it's only Pride and Virgo. Anybody can make a song and put it online. [That's the way it is back home. Mettaton may have dominated the Underground, but that was a small population locked in; on top, it's all different. He's still a star, but people record songs themselves all the time, and sometimes people like them, and they get bigger that way, slowly. They mean it more.]

[oceantier]

[She nods at that, even as her feet poke out the rhythm of the song and its arrows. There is an element of falseness in the music. It's connected to the musicians, but it's artificial -- would they even be singing about some of those things if they had the choice?]

There . . . isn't anything online now? [She doesn't really go on to look. Technology is so different than from home; it weirds her out a bit sometimes.]

[determinate]

Not big stuff.

[No artists unaffliated with the labels seem to have much success at all. It's weird. Even Frisk knows how to buy music right from someone online.]

It's like they just took over everything.

[oceantier]

From what Silver and Gold said, they did . . . They wove themselves really deeply into everything a long time ago.

It's probably hard to even get started without them.

[Voice dropping, she looks focused, but misses a step.] At home . . . it's like that too. You don't do anything without approval -- and then only what you're assigned.

[determinate]

[Frisk thinks about this solemnly for a moment.]

I'm not supposed to be old enough to have a job. But the King asked me to be ambassador, so I did.

What were you assigned?

[oceantier]

[She definitely misses steps with that question, faltering and losing the rhythm. She doesn't look up.]

It . . . was a long time ago.

I don't remember.

[This isn't true. She does. But talking about the past, especially pre-dating being trapped in the mirror, still weighs on her. She's not ready for it.]

[What the Gems were there to do to the Earth isn't pretty anyway.]



((ooc: This is one of those unknown canon things, unfortunately. I suspect strongly that it has to do with her powers and tides, but there's no direct proof or indication.))

[determinate]

[Frisk considers this and nods.]

Do Gems live a long time?

[oceantier]

Yes.

[The word is still very quiet.]

Thousands of years.

More. If . . . we aren't cracked.

[determinate]

[Frisk nods.]

Like boss monsters. My mom and dad are gonna live a long time after I die. [They think about that. They wish Gerson hadn't told them...but not telling wouldn't have made it less true.]

[oceantier]

[That's . . . a little awkward. She isn't quite sure what to say to that, and gropes for some time for a response, staring at some point below the TV so intensely that she looks as though she might stare through it. The music on the TV plays on without her.]

[Hesitating. She's still not sure if it's the right thing to say:]

I'm glad . . . to know you while I can.

[determinate]

[Frisk nods.]

Me too. [They're likely going to live much less time than her, so it doesn't mean the same. But still.]

[oceantier]

[It means a lot, at least to her. Not many people have said such a thing to her. It brings a faint, happy smile to her lips -- probably almost the Lapis equivalent of if she'd swooped down and hugged them.]

[Even though most humans won't live as long as she does, slowly -- very slowly -- she's finding pleasure in the idea of coming to know them, to enjoy them for the brief span of time that they're both allotted in the matter. Just because it's short makes it no less important.]

[Glancing at the game,] I think . . . I failed.

[determinate]

[Frisk smiles back; they don't know how it feels for the people who are going to outlive them. They suspect, but they can't really know. But they're glad they get to spend time together anyway.]

Oh. Yeah. That happens sometimes.

[Frisk is blase about it, hopping up to close out the failure screen and return to the menu.]

You can just reset it if you want. [Isn't that nice?]