And they need me to do their will

[oceantier]

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.

Comments

[determinate]

Well, sometimes you Spare and sometimes you don't.

Frisk isn't keen on being grabbed right now, and even less keen on the giant wave aimed at Sans. They try to twist away and, because that often doesn't work, also kick out at her shin. Lapis isn't a monster, so they don't have to worry as much about being gentle with her. It's for the best - a mistake like that would probably have ended with a reset back home.

Maybe they should try calling for help again? That seems like it might freak Sans out.

[oceantier]

A lot happens within a moment -- too much to process, and too much to keep up.

Sans' spell ignites around Lapis in a wreath of blue light -- something she barely has time to absorb before she's snatched into the air, feet dangling, scrambling to connect with the ground. At the same time, Frisk's foot connects, causing her to fumble her grip and probably lose them to the mud below with a startled cry -- a cry that blurs to a shriek as she's hurled backward towards the trees. Her bare feet dig long trenches in her wake, her wings blossoming and scrabbling for purchase in the air until she plunges into the forest line . . . where a low tree branch slams into the small of her back.

The impact yanks the shriek from her lungs into a bitten-off yelp, and she falls, slumping into a heap like a broken doll. Her wings flutter, twitch, and recede. Lingering in the same position where she's fallen, she doesn't seem to seek to move quickly, a small shiver running through her frame.

[exhumerus]

For a moment, all Sans can do is stare. Did that actually work, part of him wonders? Is she going to stay down? Should he get in another hit before she can pop back up again?

He shortcuts to Frisk's side, still staring at the place where Lapis settled in the trees. After all of this, he's caught between pressing forward and just running. That experience in the mud was not one he wants to go through again.

He remains frozen there for another few moments, before his expression hardens and all three of his blaster summons appear in the trees and circle around Lapis warily. Taking the shot now would put an end to this for sure, but without knowing what can and can't kill a gem, he doesn't have the stomach for it.

Hah hah.

[determinate]

Frisk falls, and catches themself on their hands and knees. Behind them, they hear Lapis scream. Sans is there before they can turn to look for him, and they wipe mud on their pants as they rise.

She's really not looking good. Frisk cringes a little, guilt stabbing at them even though this wasn't really their fault. They don't know much more about what kills a Gem than Sans does - though they do figure it's not the same as a human. Their bodies are different, after all. A human probably would have been a lot more hurt by now. (A monster would have died a long time ago.) Gems have to be pretty tough.

Still, they reach out to tug at Sans's sleeve when the blasters reappear. She's hurt already, bad enough not to stand back up. They don't need to do all that.

[oceantier]

Her body screams, aches, each impact and wound a small fire of living electricity, sending pain arching up to her brain and back. Now that she's not moving, she feels all of it crackling through her system, and there's nothing she'd like better to curl inward, bracing herself against it and shutting off the world.

Weak.

The word thuds in her brain.

Pathetic.

Losing to two inferior Gems that never should have beat you.

Do you want them to beat you?

Do you want to go back?

She draws a breath; it chokes through her lungs. For a moment she feels like spun glass, hollowed out and bird-delicate, as though her insides have been scooped away.

She doesn't want to go back. But she's losing.

Through her eyelashes, she knows they're there: The blasters over her head, wary in their circle. She can see their shadows on the earth. If she moves, they'll fire and she'll shatter. It's done.

Her fingers curl in the dirt -- a small, slow movement hard to see from far away.

She can't win. For the second time, she can't.

A crack forms in the surface of the glass, spreading outward in a hairline fracture.

Useless.

Remember what they did to you.

How they used you.

Fight back.

Loud. So loud. It grinds in her mind like ocean waves ramming into cliffs, wearing away the rock beneath. She's tired, so tired, and she's not even done. Lesedi's spell beats into her consciousness, demanding, insistent: Attack. Cripple. Destroy. Now. Now. Now. MOVE.

The crack is getting bigger.

She wants away.

She has to get away.

She has no plan, only reaction. The mud behind Frisk and Sans rises silently, oozing upward, reforming, reshaping: A last great pillar that doesn't even wait to form the full-fledged fingers of a hand . . .

A hand that slams downward towards the pair in a torrent of water and ooze.

At the same moment, Lapis uses the last reserves of her strength to shove off from the ground, wings re-blossoming, beating, making a last mad escape attempt for the sky.

[exhumerus]

Sans's reaction is immediate. It's convenient that Frisk was just grabbing hold of his sleeve, because it makes it far easier for him to sidestep the two of them right out of there. He goes from giving Frisk a helpless look ("what do you expect me to do?") to disappearing in a matter of moments.

The mud crashes down, and it's only when Sans and Frisk emerge from the other side of the shortcut that he realizes it was less of an attack and more of a distraction. He sees her fly off into the distance, and his desire to chase her is extremely minimal.

This is bad. Someone got to Lapis, and bad.

Sans looks down at the mud caked onto his clothes and entire body, rubbing some of his off his coat, and then prying a finger into his ear hole to try to scoop it out.

"Well, that was a wash," he says. "...In that it left me needing one."