interstellar5555 | And they need me to do their will

Entry tags:

And they need me to do their will

Who: Closed to Eda, Frisk + Sans, Connie + Agent 3
What: A mind-controlled Lapis attacks Eda, Frisk, and by extension, Sans. Connie and Agent 3 go looking for Lapis and find more than they expected.
When: Prior to the festival, after Lesedi
Where: Club near Pride, then a park. Also the beach.
Warnings: Violence

A. Closed to Eda - The young man was too thin, not even enough visible muscle to be called wiry. Dressed in dark clothing, the deep hood drawn up and obscuring the upper part of his features, he still managed to move with some grace, slipping through the waning crowds. It was late -- very late, and the club was emptying slowly, laughter echoing off into the night even as the lights began to flicker out in the establishment one by one. Soon there would be little but the streetlights.

Unlike the other patrons, though, the young man doesn't go home. He pauses on the street near the entrance to an alley, silent and waiting in the dark.

B. Closed to Frisk and Sans - Evening. The park is beginning to empty, parents dragging their children off for dinner. Only a few kids remain -- mostly older, but a few younger ones tagging along after brothers and sisters. The basketball court is busy with the slap of feet and the pounding of a ball against concrete. A few of the smaller children spin idly on the hand-turned merry-go-round, the momentum dying slowly with a screeching protest of metal. The kids have long since left the water feature -- a collection of spits and spurts dancing up from the sidewalk at random in patterns. The water shoots briefly into the sky as one goes off, then another, reaching their peaks and then arching back to the pavement.

It's quiet, but Frisk might catch a familiar figure in the near distance: Luna, drifting towards them, her shape unmistakable, but features not clear enough to read from this distance.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This is the time Frisk likes best to be at the park. No one really questions a child being alone here - they just assume their parent is somewhere nearby. As people slowly filter out into the dusk, no one notices enough to question leaving them behind.

They still tend to seek out solitude fairly often, an old habit from before. But they don't mind the other kids nearby, and they certainly don't mind seeing Lapis on her way to find them. It's a tad alarming, perhaps - but if something had really happened, they figure someone would call. They hop up off the bench they were sitting on and start towards her.

Something's . . . off. They may notice that as Luna continues on her path forward. She moves like someone in a dream, unseeing and inexorable, drifting.

The water in the fountain is behaving strangely; it starts to pull and tug towards her as though attracted by a magnet. A nearby water fountain gurgles, metal protesting softly in a high, shrill note.

Suddenly one of the water jets twists, yanks -- and blasts through the air at Frisk's back with enough power to potentially knock them off their feet.

Frisk has mostly lived this long through their ability to manipulate space-time, but their instincts aren't terrible either. They're already slowing their pace when they notice the sounds of the water fountain shrieking. It's like in the warehouse, when Lapis attacked the criminals with water from the pipes.

That's all the warning they have before the water jet strikes them from behind, knocking them to the ground. With a little sound of surprise, quickly muted, they tuck their limbs in and roll, better to pop back to their feet. Staying still is oftentimes death.

"Lapis?" They call as loudly as they can manage. But they're already backing off. They don't understand, and they're going to screw everything up for everybody if they die now...

"Everything."

She never stops moving, even as she speaks. Her voice is soft, but it carries, an undercurrent beneath it, like an undertow beneath a receding wave. "Everything changed. It didn't even look the same. Any of it."

"You. You're the reason. Because of you--!"

The water explodes from the water feature, braiding into the muscles of a giant, watery fist that comes smashing down towards Frisk from the air.

Now that they're paying attention, a giant watery fist is sort of difficult to miss. Frisk darts backwards, catching themselves with a hand as they stumble. What's wrong with Lapis? She's angry, but she's not making any sense! "Lapis, I don't wanna fight," they say, but they're already scrambling to their feet; she doesn't exactly seem open to mercy.

This needs Silver, or maybe J. Something is wrong with her, and unlike at home, Frisk doesn't have the power to deal with it on their own. They would like to think they do, and given enough time and loops they probably could, but that's months they'd have to do over.

Though, things have already gone badly, haven't they? Maybe on the next run, they could save Sans from being caught...?

No. Not yet. Dying wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but they'd rather try to avoid it while they can. Then, if they do have to reset, at least they won't have to feel guilty about it. After their moment of hesitation, Frisk turns and bolts - towards the trees on the far side of the hill, not the play structures. There are more water pipes there, and the potential for other people. None of them need to deal with this, and the trees will provide good cover anyway.

Water splashes into the air with the impact of the fist, raining down. But Lapis doesn't give pause, sweeping the remnants of the fist back into the air. The water shifts, regathers . . . and chases after the small figure with giant, outstretched fingers, aiming to snatch the child even as Frisk flees.

"I didn't get to choose -- neither do you."

The fingers are closing in faster than Frisk can run; they'll cut off air and breath if they close the child in their grasp.

They might, anyway, if those same fingers weren't about to get bitten by a large skull dog. Hot blue light surges through the wrist of the water formation, instantly evaporating some of what it touches. Steam pillows off in clouds.

And suddenly, Sans is at Frisk's side, his left eye blazing blue and gold.

"Gotta hand it to you, Lazuli," he calls after her. "Didn't peg you as the type to go after kids."

They keep an eye on their back while they're running, and they'd gathered themself to try and dodge the fingers; instead, Frisk stumbles to the side at the appearance of the giant dog skull. That - they've never seen Papyrus do that!

They stop up short, kicking up a few little dirt clods as they draw to a halt beside (and only slightly behind) Sans. It doesn't occur to them to wonder where he came from. "Something's wrong," they say, voice low and tense. The eye worries them - it's scarier than the black eyes, and it's bad to go into a battle angry. "With her." He should know what they mean. In her head. Frisk has no idea how any of the labels would have gotten at Lapis, but they sort of seem like the most obvious people to blame.

For answer, what remains of the steaming hand reforms, glomming around his head in a bubble to cut off his air, squeezing around his skull.

"Don't get in the way."

The ground beneath them both is rippling, shuddering like a skin trying to shrug -- as though something deep beneath its surface is surging through like a freight train.

Well, that much is obvious.

Sans has been sort of wary of Lapis ever since their confrontation at her apartment - but it really hasn't been personal. After regaining a semblance of sanity, Sans had found it difficult to really blame her. He'd been the one to start it with threatening displays. Lapis doesn't even really know him. For all she knows, he could have been going right for J's throat.

So she tried to stop him. He finds it threatening, yeah. He finds her threatening. But he hasn't been able to think of her as a bad person for doing it.

Which is why he really meant it when he said that she didn't seem like the type. Frisk sure as hell wouldn't have given her a reason and, in fact, he'd been keeping an eye on Frisk up until a few minutes ago. Nothing could had warranted this, and Sans is finding himself really glad that he had humoured his excessive paranoia today.

Sans is about to make some kind of unsettled wisecrack about just how wrong Lapis seems when the water reforms way faster than he was expecting. He yelps in alarm as it knocks him back, but it doesn't actually create any air bubbles because, well...he's a skeleton. But the sensation of it alone is enough to completely throw him off.

"Fuck," he says, his voice still smothered by the water despite the lack of air involved. He kicks his legs and tries to focus on teleporting out of it, but its managing to distort his senses enough that he's having trouble pulling it off.

Instead, he focuses on his blaster - the commands it to aim and fire on Lapis directly with a wave of his arm.

"Run for it!" he tries to yell through it to no great effect. Ugh, there's water in his skull.

Frisk won't tell Toriel you said that, Sans, if you don't.

They don't like this at all; fights are terrible and fights with their friends on both sides are worse. Their instinct is to try and stop it somehow, but they know they're more fragile now. Lapis uses real water, not magic. It sort of reminds them of Undyne, the way she's so intent on attacking, and that's not a parallel they've ever seen before. She's normally - well. She's still a lot quieter.

Sans seems to know what he's doing. Undyne wouldn't have made him a sentry if he didn't, right? Besides, he can't actually drown.

There's a moment of hesitation, then Frisk wheels and starts to run for the treeline again. This isn't quite the same as Undyne - they're not going to leave him. If they get somewhere safe, they'll stop and call for more help. They won't even let him out of their sight.

Not so fast, Frisk. The earth is rippling, waving underneath their feet, likely about to make movement difficult . . . Lapis has been pulling the water from the fountains, from the sprinklers, reducing the earth to the consistency of quicksand. Movement will be difficult at best; at worst, they'll start sinking as the earth saturates faster than would ever be natural.

Thinking Sans is at least temporarily under control, however, she doesn't consider the blaster. The fire of it roars and leaps from the barrel; she doesn't catch it until it's almost too late. Water leaps up to protect her; it sizzles and crackles, consumed in steam.

But it's not quite enough: The superheated liquid that remains gushes back at her, searing past unprotected skin. A shriek tears through her throat like the sound of a downed bird as she tries vainly to protect what's already been affected; the skin blisters with the heat.

Her control of Sans' bubble falters, and the water gushes down his shoulders.

Sans drops to the ground as the bubble loses it form, only to discover that it is swiftly turning into muck. Great - but it's not as if he has much time to focus on it. Lapis's shriek draws his attention far more readily.

It's not as if he isn't prepared to hurt people, but knowing that its probably not her fault that she's here in the first place... he hadn't fully anticipated that he'd actually hit her. He calls off the blaster before it does any more damage while she's stunned, but keeps it at the ready.

He doesn't really know how gems work when it comes to getting injured. The hell is he even supposed to be doing right now besides buying time? He steps through a shortcut to somewhere close to her, raising his hands defensively.

"Uh. Hey. If the real you is in there somewhere... now would be a great time to show it off. I don't want to hurt you, and I don't really want you to hurt me either." He coughs some left over water out of his skull.

Either way, he'd like to keep it between the two of them instead of involving Frisk.

Frisk is pretty light, but running in quicksand is still too tall an order. They manage to keep from sinking into it immediately; they lift their feet up like it's hot, trying not to stand in one place for too long. The strangeness of it ruins their momentum, and they only get a few feet away before Lapis's scream stops them in their tracks.

They turn, cringing at the ugly blisters visible on Lapis's skin even from here. Is she going to die? They don't know how Gem souls work. But they're different from humans or monsters: Lapis doesn't eat or drink or sleep. Didn't she say she was made of light? How is she burnt?

That moment of hesitation has them nearly knee-deep in the muddy earth. Attempting to brace themself with a hand on the grass doesn't help, so they just try jumping straight out. Ugh, gross.

"Lapis?" What, like they weren't going to try and help SAVE from here? "You came here for Steven, remember?"

She's still gasping softly, fingers hovering over the burns, which blister and tinge with gray. Gems blush, breathe, eat, sleep when none of these things should be possible with a body made of solidified light . . . it would seem, unfortunately, that burns are part of the nature of having a physical body.

Her eyes dart up as they both come closer; it's plain that this is a threat to her, and her eyes raking across theirs is a warning. Back. Stay away. She's hurt because of both of them; they're enemies.

Meanwhile, the softness of their voices compete with much louder ones in her brain -- louder, and harsher. The result is like trying to hear in a crowded room . . . and with anxiety and rage and paranoia lashing through, released, it's nearly impossible. Her eyes don't even seem to clearly focus on them; it's as though she sees something else at the same time, as though their very faces are fractured, clouded.

"This isn't home," she grits out. "You changed it -- everything. Do you know how long--"

Sharper, a stronger warning: "I'm not giving him to you. I'm not giving you Steven -- and you're not making me go back!"

The watery mud is starting to bubble at their feet.

Edited 2016-05-18 16:00 (UTC)

"Huh..." Sans mumbles, watching the mud start to bubble and listening to Lapis ramble out nonsense at them that no longer includes even the illusion of sanity. This is starting to seem like it might be a lost cause. At least, the diplomatic angle is.

"Welp," he says to Lapis, lifting his hands in a helpless shrug. "Fair enough, pal." In a followup gesture that is deceptively quick, his hands begin to glow. One is gestured towards him and Frisk, their gravity lessened and pushed, bringing them up out of the mud and allowing them to float in mid air. The other is gestured towards Lapis - if it connects, her body will glow blue shortly before the gravity around her abruptly increases, smacking her down into her own mud.

"See ya later, kid," he says, and then flicked his fingers at Frisk. With moon-like lightness, he sends Frisk sailing over the trees with a single magical push, gravity lazily allowing them to glide towards the ground, but not before they are a significant distance away. Sans has shit to do that he doesn't want them to be here for.

Edited 2016-05-18 20:44 (UTC)

No, Sans, not this time; she's attuned to you with all of her (albeit kaleidoscope) focus. Although she doesn't know what the movement means, she's ready for it to mean something, and initiates her own attack almost within the same moment -- even as her wings blossom around her and she launches into the air to avoid his attack. A good dozen strands of watery mud explode from the muck all around him, arching upward and over his head, braiding and criss-crossing over one another at their apex. If he doesn't find a way out, they'll snap downward, pinning him face-first into the mud.

Why he's tossing away his ally is anyone's guess, but she's not going to question.

Sans is a pretty skilled mage, but that doesn't really mean that when trying to do three different spells at the same time he's incapable of fumbling. He was hoping his gravity attack would buy himself enough time to send Frisk away and get himself some distance - when it reality, he finds himself too magically preoccupied to calculate a shortcut.

He really only sees the mud when it's already going for him. The braided strands of water and earth wrench him towards the ground and down into the mud, the saturated land giving way under the force of his body and effectively half burying him in the same stroke. The upside is that the mud isn't hard enough to crack his fragile bones in its present state. The downside is that, in a matter of moments, he's been resigned to pretty much drowning in it.

He doesn't have the time for much banter besides a rasping sound of objection through his teeth, before calling on his blaster again with what remains of his focus.

"No offense," he manages, trying to pull his face and hand away from muck he's sinking into long enough to aim properly. Now he's shooting for keeps.

In the air, she'll be more mobile, harder for him to aim at -- which proves true as his blast hits off target, searing past her arm rather than hitting anything vital. It still hurts; she yelps, teetering in the air with a sudden loss of focus. For one, brief hiccup of a moment, the bonds are slightly looser.

But unfortunately, it makes her more determined to hurt back.

Again streams of water shoot up from the mud -- but this time just outside the ring that holds Sans. This grouping feeds into a summoning: A large, muddy hand that hovers over its victim, palm down. It barely completes itself before it's on its way down, aiming to grind and embed her opponent deep into the mud.

Sans struggles to get free, but that moment of relief isn't enough - he never gets the chance. Before he can work out a new plan of action, the hand is already coming down on him, crushing him beneath its weight and pushing him deep into the earth. The remains of his human instincts tell him that he should be suffocating, but he isn't. Instead, he is just left to squirm uselessly beneath the surface, tangled in her net of bonds and buckling under the pressure of the smothering mud that borders on painful.

It's dark down there, and so terribly quiet. He can't move, or see, or breathe, and his self control is rapidly draining through his fingers. He can't teleport out of this - not without a ton more focus than he's got. She hasn't crushed him to bits yet, but he still feels like he's dying.

The magic he ends up releasing is less of a focused attack, and more of an uncontrolled stress reaction caused by the sudden rise of his panic and fear. The gravity of the area begins to shift, rising and falling wildly, globules of mud and water rising and falling from the air. His remaining blaster seems confused without his direct guidance, and starts firing aggressively and randomly in Lapis's general direction - anything to get the sensation to stop.

"Wh - "

And then Frisk is flying away towards the trees. It startles a hiss from them, but no more than that; it feels like when they jumped over Papyrus's special attack, not a real fall. But they thought Sans was just helping them out of the mud! How are they supposed to help like this?

Well, there's one way. It's easy enough to fire off a text to J in midair (Lapis went crazy and is fighting me and Sans, that probably won't cause any panic) before they even have to worry about sticking their landing. There's a lot of trees, but they're going slowly enough, and a wave of their arms proves that they can indeed change their own trajectory a bit.

Frisk narrows their eyes at the trees in thought. How long does the blue magic last?

They angle themself to press their feet against a solid tree trunk, then kick off hard, their jumping boots activating as they leap. This time they let out a strangled squeak at the sudden velocity, right before they're shooting straight back towards Lapis.

No one can really expect or prepare for a child-cannonball. Distracted by the sudden intensity of Sans' attack, Lapis doesn't see the Frisk-bomb heading for her and they strike on target at full force. Down she goes, rolling over and over and over.

(Weirdly enough, she twists before impact so she strikes first, arms going around them as they roll and roll and roll, hand bracing their head.)

Two bits of good news come from this: One, that both Frisk and Lapis are down, away from the sudden fire of Sans' blasters. (How they manage the luck to avoid the random blasts is anyone's guess.) Two, the muddy fist collapses into ooze, the chains melting to liquid, releasing the pressure on Sans' bones. He's still deep in the mud, but he's no longer held there, if he can take advantage of it.

Edited 2016-05-23 17:17 (UTC)

He can feel the change in the pressure, and the way it frees up his arms. The blaster stops blasting for the moment, as his attentions swiftly turn to a desperate bid for freedom - he shifts the gravity on himself, forcing him and the mud clinging to him towards the sky. The motion looks like a cascade of mud dripping upside down - the mud starts to fall upwards long enough for the skeleton to emerge from its hold with a gag and a gasp.

Oh, god, it went in his nose hole. Gross, gross, gross.

Wiping mud away from his sockets, Sans is moments away from firing on Lapis the moment he sees her collapsed on the ground - only hesitating when he sees that she is apparently holding Frisk. Damn it, kid, he sent you away for a reason.

"Let them go, Lazuli," he growls, having no idea that Frisk was the one who instigated this situation. The blaster covers, its jaw filling with threatening destructive magic. He's still trying to wrench his legs out of the mud, muck covering almost every inch of his body and clothes.

Frisk wanted to get back fast, and admittedly they did aim a little when they saw Lapis holding Sans down, but at the same time they didn't really anticipate the sheer force of it. They tuck instinctively into Lapis's body as she curls around them, shielding their head and neck from damage. They know how to fall. She didn't have to do that.

The impact is still jarring. It's a moment before they untangle themself from Lapis, mud squelching between their fingers as they push themself upright. They shift aside off of Lapis, but shrink down a little at the sight of the blaster aimed at them. At her.

"Don't - " Lapis still remembers somewhere. She just tried to protect them. Frisk's got enough sense to scoot back from her a little before trying to stand, but they lift a hand as if to ward off Sans. Let's just see what happens.

For a moment she lies there, spattered in muck and goo -- in spite of the gun leveled on her. She pushes herself upward on her hands, the tips of her hair dripping muddy water, her neck a weary arch.

But she's not done. And Frisk is perhaps a little too trusting.

She snatches for them suddenly even as her other hand flashes out, sweeps a climbing arc . . . A wave like a muddy tsunami rises, crashing down towards Sans with the aim to flush him away.

And they need me to do their will

B

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)