Spooky Scary Skeleton (And Other Friends) [Closed]

[sassafrisk]

Who: Frisk, Papyrus, Baiken, Kuja, and Chara
When: All throughout October
Where: The spookiest of spookplaces in Vaikuntha
What: Frisk gets a'exorcisin', and they call on a few friends to help out.
Warnings/Notes: General fun spoopiness, will tag further as needed

Frisk was always a fan of haunted house rides. At least when the staff wasn't chewing them out for sneaking in. The real thing, surprisingly, wasn't all that more creepy, and definitely more cute. At least sometimes.

[OOC: Separate toplevels for separate quests.]

Comments

[acapriciousreaper]

Kuja takes the moment to dive, swooping in to land in front of the fleeing figure, no magic charged in his palms this time, but still clearly irritated. He's already slipping off, approaching with hands raised. "Please stop running- We certainly have no intention of opening hostilities unless they're opened in kind, but we need to talk to you." Honestly, some people.

[sassafrisk]

The shape of the figure is quite difficult to make out in the dark, but what little Kuja and Frisk can see is... wrong, somehow. This isn't the uncanny valley, what they're dealing with is the Uncanny Mariana Trench. The effect is somewhat diminished by how the "ghost" is quite clearly quaking with fear. "Y-you swear it, kupo? You will bring no harm to me?" they stutter, accent surprisingly sophisticated. Frisk looks at Kuja from behind the creature, eyebrow arched.

[acapriciousreaper]

Kuja crosses his arms. Why lie? The grotesquely-deformed moogle has been nothing but trouble so far-

He catches that look from Frisk, and there's a pang of... guilt. Kuja sighs, places one hand on his hip, staring down at the creature. "I'm not going to lie and say that I'll do absolutely nothing to hurt you under any circumstances... but I will promise your safety provided you don't attack. Are those terms acceptable?"

[sassafrisk]

"...Very well, kupo," the creature says, some of the dignity in his voice returning. "Why do you pursue me, then? I cause no harm living as I do out here, kupo."

Frisk opens their mouth to reply, then closes it, thinking better of it. "Um... because we thought you were a ghost terrorizing the townspeople?" they eventually settle on.

[acapriciousreaper]

"That is what the reports say, yes. Of course, given your immediate instinct upon being presented with something as relatively harmless as a candle-flame was to run screaming, I have significant doubts about your ability to terrorize anyone."

Kuja sighs. Why, then, would they be bothered to come out here to find some slightly-deformed moogle? Surely there would be a better use of their time?

[sassafrisk]

Frisk looks just as lost as Kuja. It's clear that they weren't exactly expecting this either, even by the standards of their other moogle exorcisms. "I..." They look at Kuja, shrugging, then back at the Frankenmog. "Okay then. So, uh... just stick to your shack and try not to scare anybody, I guess?"

"Please, I beg of you, don't go!" he says, flinching. "I have not had proper company in so long!"

[acapriciousreaper]

Something is wrong here. Something is desperately wrong. The pieces aren't fitting together-
"Moogle. I'm telling you this ahead of time so you aren't startled, understand? I'm not casting a spell to harm you, only making a little light." He conjures a faint orb of White Magic, this time, the same spell that's proved so useful in keeping the house clean. It's a weak light, but a light just the same, dim enough to see more than mere silhouettes in the darkness.

After a few seconds, the light is extinguished. "I see. It makes perfect sense, now." Something about this... hurts. Badly. "They think you're a monster, I take it. Because you bear obvious marks of manufacture. That you're somehow lesser because you were made and not born."

[sassafrisk]

"...indeed. My creator fell faint at the very sight of me, and others have had even less kind reactions to my visage, kupo," the moogle intones.

Frisk would never admit it, but... for the brief moment that the moogle was illuminated, a visceral fear gripped their gut. They push it down, but they can't help but to feel guilty for even feeling a flash of horror at the poor moogle's appearance. They open their mouth to suggest something, then think better of it, turning to whisper into Kuja's ear. "Um... maybe we should offer the poor guy some dinner or something? If he eats? I dunno, I kinda feel bad that he's stuck out here in this shack."

[acapriciousreaper]

The genome stands there for a long moment, silently weighing the options before him. "Very well. I suggest you listen clearly, because this conversation has put me, I confess, in an extraordinarily foul mood. I'll not tolerate you being made to live in a shack just because you're different. I've a spare bedroom, it's not furnished but I've blankets and pillows to spare, and you'll have use of a washroom and kitchen for... a night or two, at least."

Kuja sneers. "And if the mob intends to come knocking at my door to find the monster, we'll see if a pile of ash can wield a pitchfork."

[sassafrisk]

It was kind of funny in an odd way that while this was the nicest that Frisk had ever seen Kuja act, it was also the most terrifying they had seen him. For a moment, Kuja was faaaar scarier than Frakenmog ever had been. At least he was directing all of that scary energy to a place of goodwill. "Maaaaybe fire a few warning shots instead of outright incinerating them first thing, my guy, but I agree," Frisk says, bemused. "You good with dragon flight? It's pretty cool and the quickest way back to his house."

After a moment of hesitation, the Frankenmog nods. "I accept. Thank you for your kindness, kupo. It will not be forgotten. And yes, I will be happy to accompany you on your... dragon, kupo."

[acapriciousreaper]

Kuja pauses at Frisk's words, and some of that seems to fade. "Well. Yes, that's much more reasonable, obviously I wasn't going to jump straight to indiscriminate casting of Fira that would be, ah. Wrong." He clears his throat, before stepping up to mount the dragon once more.

"Don't... don't think anything of it. Consider it a gift, from one failed creation to another."

[sassafrisk]

Something about the way Kuja said that made Frisk think otherwise, but they'll remain from commenting. For now. They don't even raise a skeptical eyebrow! Look at this paragon of self-restraint!

Frisk and Frankenmog climb up on top of Opalescence, although the moogle displays some understandable misgivings before getting on.

[acapriciousreaper]

In spite of the intimidating appearance of such a beast, Opalescence allows herself to be mounted without complaint, taking off a moment later with practiced smoothness, circling back towards Kuja's home. It's probably much less unpleasant than Frankenmog's monster had ever expected.

And, before long, it ends, the silver dragon landing softly on the lawn, lowering herself to the ground. "Frisk," Kuja says, quietly, as he gets off. "It's quite late. Do you have a means of returning home?"

[sassafrisk]

Frisk nods. "Yeah, I should be able to make the midnight airship to the Center." They pause, thinking carefully about the next thing they say. "Look, I don't know what happened to you before you came here, and it's none of my business. But even if it was, it doesn't matter now. What matters is that you're here, and none of us give a damn about who you were back on your home world. Because whether you like it or not, you're friends with a lot of people. Including me, if that wasn't already painfully obvious." Frisk gives him a subdued smile, quite unlike the reckless brazen smirks they plaster on their face quite often. Saluting Kuja, they turn back, jogging towards the airship station.

***

The next morning, Frankenmog is gone. But in his room is a pile of old, leatherbound books and a note.

Sir Kuja,

I cannot thank you enough for your kindness. Truly, leaving you some of my most prized literature is the least I can do. Unfortunately, I cannot do anything more, since I am not long for this world. In truth, I died many, many years ago, after a struggle with my creator and many years in a world that was nothing but cold and hostile to me. Neither can I say my death was undeserved, for as many terrible things my creator did to me, I repaid him back in kind several times over. He created my life, yet I ruined his, and that is a grave sin no matter the true nature of the man. So my spirit wandered Vaikuntha for several years, stewing in my own hate and rage. Had it gone on for much longer, I fear that I would've become an even greater monster.

But the kindness you and your young companion showed me changed all that. It reminded me of all the good things people have done for me before I died, giving me shelter, conversation, and even solace occasionally. For as many people that would kill those such as ourselves for the simple act of existing, there is an equal, if not greater, amount that would accept us and give whatever help they could provide. I beg of you that if you remember nothing else of me, remember that lesson, for it was one I was sorely in need of learning before I passed on. Now unburdened by my hate, I am now free of this plane, and although I regret I was not given more time to get to know you, I admit finally moving on to whatever is beyond has given me some measure of peace.

Regards,
Adamog

[acapriciousreaper]

A friend? That's... new. He's too good at reading people to discount it, too good at spotting the lies and the social niceties and the Kuja my old friend how have you beens to think it's anything but genuine. The idea is almost patently absurd. He nods, stiffly, and goes inside. There's an almost-robotic showing of the moogle to the spare room, blanket and pillows provided. And the whole time, one poisonous thought echoes in the back of his mind.

Would they still proclaim friendship if they knew just how much of a monster you are?

He's still awake, when the morning comes. It's Mojito who rouses him, pulls him out of the shower, the hot water long since gone. Prods him until he eats something, prods him more until he drags himself into bed, and when he finally wakes up and reads the letter he even has enough energy to pretend it doesn't slip a blade between his ribs and twist.