O, LEAVING — IN THE END, MONSTERS WIN

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    [center][fancypost=border-width:0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 125%]you shuffle through the ashes of what was once your tent, searching absently for any remains of your belongings (your sweater, your satchel, your stuffed rabbit, and your hunting knife) only to come up unsuccessful. its all almost gone, swallowed up in the aftermath of flames that were started by both friends and enemies alike. in fact, you only have artpops scarf as of now and even its memory has been tainted and fouled by the events that have taken place here— its soft colors and hues of pink are now blotched over with smoky-grey stains and it no longer retains the smell of versace perfume, its new scent now smoke and fire. it no longer smells like artpop, only of chaos and betrayal. it stinks of loved ones turned traitor, enemies wreaking havoc, flames in uproar. and its all gotten too much for you to handle, to feel, so that you now just dont feel it anymore.


    much like when darkstalker ambushed you, picked out all the flora off of your pelt, you have encased yourself in a shell of complete and utter apathy, a temporal safehaven until you find your feet again. all of your worries have been stuffed deep, deep into your heart, and now you merely feel numb. neutral, uncaring, indifferent to the world and all of its problems, whether they were caused by you or by someone else. god, you're starting to sound a little bit like bill and thats scary, but do you care? no, not at the moment. you dont care about anything right now actually, other than finding water to wash away at the stains that now tarnish your scarf and hopefully remove them before they set in and deal permanent damage. you glance around at the ruins of tents, and the npcs who walk, all of them either picking around to see if their own stuff survived or attempting to fix what they can of the camp. you should be helping them, but all you can think of is getting water for your scarf to soak in.


    and you clearly wont find any here.


    you rise to your feet at a dreadfully slow pace, and start to walk (or limp, if one takes note of the gate). where you're walking to, you dont know yet. where you're going to stay, you don't know yet. just as long as its some place with water, and its not here. npcs watch you pass, a few even question you, but its all gibberish drowned out by the ringing that buzses in your ears so you dont respond. you just walk, no goodbyes on your tongue, no hope on your face, no emotion at all aside from a lack of empathy, and the expression stays even after you leave step off of the territory, never to return.
    / ahh, even tho i had frisk step down ocly i decided to write their leaving for later reference c': & theyre out/have just left the territory if anyone is confused.
    [spoiler=CAN I BE FORGIVEN? / MAY 7TH][fancypost=border-width:0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 125%]BASICS
    —     frisk / "atychiphobia"
    — nonbinary, they/them
    — trot medic / past ranks + relations
    — mentally/physically a child
    — brown manx kitten w pale yellow sclera & flowers decorating body
    — triangle branded into left shoulder
    — schizoaffective disorder, off meds
    — no mentor, open / prev trained by sans, kate, & negan
    TRAITS
    —     INFP / HUFFLEPUFF / MELANCHOLIC / ABNEGATION / TRUE NEUTRAL
    — naturally soft-spoken; voice hoarse when loud
    — gentle and clingy, bad at letting things/people go
    — a natural sweetheart, but can be otherwise when provoked
    — will forgive but wont forget
    — timid but brave
    INTERACTION
    —     attack in bold white
    — shows mercy / rarely fights back
    — pathetically easy / strong when triggered / sensitive to mental attacks
    — flowerprints, emotion/scent manip, time control, the sight, give/take away pain
    OTHER
    —     has a block on mind, amnesiac
    — embodiment of determination
    — cannibal digestive system mutation; dormant

    [center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border:0;width:450px;text-align:justify;font-size:8pt;color:#000000;][font=georgia]★ PLUTO H. P. S. X. W. - making momma so proud, but your voice is too loud - tags
    He watched Frisk depart in silence, his breathing quietly growing, chest heaving as he watched the only being that he could really tolerate in his own home turn their back on it all and walk away. Somewhere between the azure sky and the ashen remains of their home lay the reason why this had all happened. There had to be some kind of logical reasoning as to why this had all happened and he was determined to figure it out. All of the destruction could not just be down to Bill and his End Game lackeys being a group of, excuse his language but for a lack of better terms, assholes. Pluto strongly believed that there had to be something, anything, more than just that. Than the thirst for violence and devastation. He could not come to accept that they were bad people and bad people more often than not did bad things to others. In this case, he and those around him had unfortunately been caught up in that cycle and he did not know what to do anymore.


    He drew in a shaky breath, the acrid stench of smoke still filling his heaving lungs with every intake of oxygen. He could feel the panic setting in, internal flames building up dangerously inside of his body much like the inferno that had devastated his home. He closed his glazed electric blue eyes, turning his head away as Frisk moved out of his eyesight, the sting of everything that had happened crawling under his skin like third degree burns all over his body. He knew that others coped with things in different ways and he too had contemplated leaving but he could not bring himself to do so. Those still remaining needed support and help and he felt as if, as the child of one of the problems, he was obligated to stick around and assist to the best of his ability. For all those who had been affected negatively, he knew that he had to try and do all that he could to help, even if it meant sacrificing things himself. He hunched his shoulders up slightly, lashing his tail in the form of a deterrent to any npcs that neared him to inquire about how he was feeling. This was a negative situation and he did not see how it could possibly get any better.