video sent from Asriel's TAB; cw for poisoning and child death

[inconsequence]

[They turned on the recording as soon as he started to fall to pieces, his fur soaked with tears and turning the dust to slurries of gray. There's a flash of green and yellow sweater before the camera spins, dizzyingly, to settle upon a Boss Monster curled up against the floor. He looks like he might be - melting, or falling apart, white fur slicked with sweat and dust and worse, his fangs and lips stained with flecked yellow.]

Ready, Asriel?

[A swirled nest of dust and bruised golden petals scattered across the floor, and Asriel is trying to speak, but the child overrides him easily:]

Do your creepy face!

[He starts to split apart by the seams, dusted cracks spiraling up his fur and down his claws and along his crumbling ears. He always did love to record things, and holds the memories close to his heart and SOUL.

This one, too, will remain with him forever.]

Ch...ara... [Every word sounds like an effort, and he's falling apart, more and more, by the moment.] ...hel... p... m...e...

[He doesn't last much longer, after that.



The visual cuts. A child sits cross-legged on the kitchen tile next to the heap of dust once designated Asriel Dreemurr, a disturbingly serene, domestic scene to contrast the horror of his slow, protracted demise. Smiling, as though nothing is wrong.

Their eyes are black, right down to the whites. Ha ha.

In their hands is a disk. Asriel's disk, in fact - his identity, compiled into one useful little compendium of easily-rearranged code. Everything he is, packed into one handy drive. They turn it slowly, slowly, between their fingertips in a continuous revolution.]

Would you like to hear a story?

[They address the network via Asriel's TAB with an even disposition, a smile peaking white beneath parted lips.]

It's ever so funny, really.

Once upon a time, a pair of children tried to make a surprise for their father. A butterscotch pie, like their mother would always make. But they made a small error, see: instead of cups of butter, they used buttercups.

[They pick one of the gold petals from the ground, crushed and coated in gray as it is, and pinch it between forefinger and thumb.]

He grew terribly, terribly ill. One of the children felt just awful about it. But the other...?

[The petal drops to the ground, spiraling lazily as it catches in the air's resistance.]

Why, they laughed.

[The word twists out in a sickening burst of crimson. It's unclear, how it is that a word can feel red, but regardless of how possible such a thing might be, the child has accomplished it. They are, after all, very determined.]

You see, they just wanted to see him suffer.

[They smile, sweetly, at the feed one final time.

And the recording ends.]

Comments

[sugaroutlaw]

[To be honest? A little yeah. To her it looks like the kid has eaten too much sugar and decided to have fun with their stuffed animal.]

So what's point of this, then?

[inconsequence]

Perhaps I just like to see people suffer.

[Coupled with an innocent smile that colors the pink blush at their cheeks even further.]

[sugaroutlaw]

And attention.

[inconsequence]

[A fluid shrug. She's made her assumptions, as all inevitably do. Who are they to contest those?]

If you insist.

[sugaroutlaw]

Hey kid, I'm not the one who decided to broadcast a live snuff film of pet rabbit.

[inconsequence]

[There's a long, slow silence. Then, a hitch in their voice. A high stutter of noise, trickling out from between parted lips.

They're laughing.

They're laughing, harder and harder and harder, until they're practically doubled over. A pet rabbit. And he even had a collar not so very long ago!

They don't have an answer to that. They're too busy laughing.]

[sugaroutlaw]

Take it easy with sugar, kid.

[inconsequence]

[Oh, no. Not sugar.]

[Buttercups.]

Yes. I suppose he is a pet rabbit of sorts, is he not?

[sugaroutlaw]

Huh? You tell me. You're the who offed him.

[inconsequence]

I should think it hardly matters; he is dead now, after all.

[sugaroutlaw]

And who's next? Should I warn the local zoo?

[inconsequence]

[Who's next? What a question that is.]

I think it's more fun to leave you guessing, personally.

[sugaroutlaw]

[Hey, it's a very legit question.]

Whatever, kid. At least bravado keeps us posted.

[inconsequence]

[A brief comb through of the memories of the child they're based on and...hm. No. Nothing containing this particular human, or presumed human. What a shame.]

Tell me: what sort of associations does the name "Chara" call to mind, for you?

[sugaroutlaw]

Not a damn thing.

[inconsequence]

[A laugh. Unsurprised, but likely no less unpleasant.]

Then I fear I've very little more to stay to you.

[sugaroutlaw]

Whatever kid.

You tell me this, though. What does Black Monster make you think?

[inconsequence]

Black Monster?

[Their head cocks to one side, their smile practically glued-on.]

You'll have to forgive me, miss. I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that particular moniker.

[sugaroutlaw]

So what, Monstro Pedro doesn't ring any bells?

[She didn't really think it would. Which is good. Though kid's brutality matches the group perfectly.]

[inconsequence]

We can't all be from your world.

[Spoken lazily, with an absence of genuine interest - like much of everything else they've been saying, thus far.]