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

[spaghettimonster]

[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.]

[oceantier]

[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?

[spaghettimonster]

[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!

[oceantier]

[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.]

[spaghettimonster]

[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?

[oceantier]

[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.]

[spaghettimonster]

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.]

[oceantier]

[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?

[spaghettimonster]

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?]

[oceantier]

[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.]

[spaghettimonster]

[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.]

[oceantier]

[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.]

[spaghettimonster]

[The first form that Lapis assumes resembles her, especially in silhouette, but the coloration and slight other differences are changed.]

[If Papyrus hadn't watched the change, he wouldn't have recognized her. And still might not, in a large crowd of humans. They don't all look the same, or anything. But they're more alike than most monsters.]

[The second, now, that's a shock. There's no resemblance to the other faces Lapis showed him; it's like looking at a particularly solemn mirror.]

You don't need any sleep at all? Oh my god, that's so enviable.

[He loses a few seconds to fantasizing the kind of productivity she must be capable of. A work ethic even he could only dream of...]

So you come here to socialize... That's also good! Being alone in this world would be... scary.

[Brr. If it weren't for being in the apartment and keeping track of the others over the network, Papyrus would have been very lost. Without Sans around to give him someone else to be annoyed by and yet look after...]

[oceantier]

[He has . . . so much energy. How does he manage? Is it the sleep?]

[Could she have that much energy if she slept, or is it just a skeleton thing?]

[A tinge of blue comes to her cheeks as she shifts back to herself. Somehow the idea that she comes here for people . . . even though it's true, it's still not something she readily admits -- as though to admit it is to admit something that can be exploited.]

I . . . came at the beginning. With J. And Frisk. And 3.

[That explains everything, right?]

[spaghettimonster]

[It does explain everything, and he brightens even further.]

You've been keeping them company! Good, they shouldn't be alone either. Coming here without me... or any of our other friends... It must have been hard for them!

[His energy certainly isn't a skeleton thing; his brother is notoriously sedentary. Prone to skipping work and taking naps on the job. No, it's just a Papyrus thing.]