what is going on here?

[thethrillof]

you don't know. 

This is an abandoned place. A mansion. A hospital. A school. A castle. An entire town, perhaps. 

There's nothing here. Just ruined masonry, rats scampering beneath floors, dust in the air and plants winding through any space they can find. 

There aren't supposed to be people here.

Why are you here? Did you mean to come, looking for ghosts? Did you take a wrong turn, need to find shelter for the night? Did someone leave you here on a dare or a kidnapping attempt?

Or do you belong here, dead and supposedly empty as the walls that surround you?

Comments

[dustless]

Hop. Skip. Hop. Crumbling sidewalk and stone can be fun to jump across, as long as you don't fall. Adrenaline rush, they think's the term.

Toriel doesn't know where they are, but that's fine. Their cell phone still has reception. (They're pretty sure they could get that anywhere, from the center of the earth to the other side of it. Thanks, Alphys.)

Frisk likes ghosts. They suppose that was why they were dared to go here, even if the group of human kids insisted they thought the spirits needed help being put to rest. They're not stupid. It's just that the dare was as fine of an excuse as anything.

Not that they're expecting to find much. The ghosts they know are SOULs or monsters, after all. Though they are keeping an eye out for floating hearts.

[luckytobealive]

The sun is setting, too, because that's when the ghosts come out, the children know this much.

By the time they start becoming visible--mere shades with no sound and no features, they'll see Eliza trying to shoo off other spirits. What, scare off the only live human passing through in god knows how long? No, she thinks not. She chases off a fair amount, and thankfully most of them are just curious folk and not ones with a purpose. Not all of them need answers from outsiders to move on. So it goes.

By the time she becomes more than a transparent silhouette the stars twinkle dimly in fading sky.

Eliza is aqua. There is no reason to wonder, really, though she certainly shucked that quality to the side a little in her last fifty years. Oh well. But--there's a human child here, finally, for once an outsider, and she wants desperately to seek answers so she can move on, but patience. And besides, it's unbecoming, and children don't always have the answers. She'd be better off with a historian, she muses, but… she'll take what she can get. If they have none, then… she'll be sorely disappointed, but the fault is not on them. Perhaps it'd be nice to have a young look on things.

Eliza steps from the street corner, features a little more distinct: a dress outdated by at least several centuries, adorning a middle-aged woman who looks like she has seen things and come out of it kinder and wiser. Her poise and grace is nearly impeccable.

She stops near a dead street lamp, waiting for Frisk to spot her. Not all the living react very well to the dead.

[dustless]

Long before she appears, Frisk notices the change in the air.

It leaves the back of their neck prickling, because it summons memories of being terrified and nearly alone, but they know better than to run when they can't be entirely sure what they might be running from. Gotta keep a look out, that's all. 'Sides, running away could be pretty mean.

(Or it could be the air getting cooler with the sunset, but Frisk trusts their instincts.)

Despite expecting something, they still jolt when they see her. 'Cause she's a person. An actual whole one, not just a SOUL. And she's so fancy, too. They like her dress.

They're staring. When they notice, they stop doing that and wave. "Hi!"

[luckytobealive]

Graciously enough, Frisk is welcoming of the dead. Tension inside her unfurls and comes undone. Eliza smiles, the kind from aged mothers, and starts across the street towards them for a greeting. She looks like she's walking, but leaves no clack of heels against asphalt.

"Hello," she says, stopping a few feet short of them. She's very much not solid, even if distinct--it's as if the breeze alone sways her. There's also the lovely view of the buildings behind her, through her. "You're very brave to come out here by yourself."

[dustless]

They bounce forward a few steps, though they're careful to stop before they can actually cross paths. They've run through Blooky before, and there's no saying this lady would be as forgiving as them, even if she looks nice enough.

"Thanks. Not really, though. I didn't know there were really human ghosts," they say bluntly, tiling their head. Frisk isn't staring at her chest like a weirdo--well, no, they are, but they're only trying to see if her SOUL's in there.

[luckytobealive]

It sits snugly in her chest where a necklace might rest, shimmering and aglow in waves of aqua with the barest shades of green and yellow, like taffeta silk. In the rapidly growing darkness it's a pretty good de-facto lamplight.

Eliza quirks a brow. "'Human ghosts,' you say? If not humans, then what?" Animals? Creatures? She can hardly imagine any rumors and tales about those, especially in a city like this one.

[dustless]

Multicolored. Is it 'cause of her dress, or is she just very different? Maybe older SOULs can figure out how to be more things than kids'.

"Monsters!" they say loudly, then pause to glance around. They echoed, and most monsters are actually good about not trespassing when there's signs up for it. Papyrus and Undyne might stop by to visit, they bet. "...They're nice, though, they just don't look like us. And I saw other ghosts once, but they didn't have..." Frisk waves their hand at her general form.

[luckytobealive]

"Monsters," she repeats, somewhat disbelieving. Hmm. Either this child is living as children do, or something has very much changed since the city went empty.

"Well," she hums, "I didn't think monsters and humans would get along. To my knowledge, they didn't." There's certainly enough books about men hunting them, that's for sure; werewolves, vampires, the heroes of old Greek myths.

Oh? "What didn't they have?"

[dustless]

Frisk's seen that face before, quite a bit. Most recently the last time they'd wandered off in the mall and had to describe Toriel to a concerned security guard.

"Monsters," they say again firmly. "They're real and they're better at being good than a lot of humans. They were just locked up a long, long time ago 'cause humans were scared."

They demonstrate by tugging out their SOUL. "They just looked like this. But different colors. Not...all...not like humans anymore."

...they wonder why.

[luckytobealive]

…
Hmm. She takes this child's word with a grain of salt, but it is possible that they speak of not… technically monsters, but something else that they might mistake for such. (What, she does not know, but she does know what children have the tendency to be far more perceptive and clever than the usual adult gives them credit for.) And besides, ghosts exist.

But Frisk says--locked up long ago, because humans were scared, and yes, that sounds very human--rampant slavery and Indian slaughter, humanity has the lovely tendency to go witch-huning for anything strange. It certainly explains the lack of magic beings despite ancient myths of rampant monsters.

Eliza considers, quiet for a moment.

"Well," she hums, "monsters are not mortal men, after all. It would not surprise me if their fundamental nature was different."

She's probably interpreting wrong, but she trusts them to correct her.

"I confess I lived and died too early for tales of monsters. Spirits, perhaps, and myths, but not monsters, so you'll forgive my ignorance on the matter. You've found where they have been sealed away, or have they been freed? You seem to know much on the matter."

[dustless]

"They're mortal. Or, um, most of them are." All of them can be killed, but the fact their mom and Asgore are going to outlive them--they might be a little bitter at Gerson. But he was just telling the truth.

Frisk ambles a little bit closer. "When did you?" they ask bluntly. "'Cause it was...a very long time ago, so they still might've just been stories to you. I didn't know they were real until I found them. And they're out. I helped."

[luckytobealive]

"About two hundred and seventy years ago," she hums. "1854. Of course, I wouldn't know the exact amount, it's hard to keep track of the centuries without a calendar."

She blinks a little. Eliza admits she hadn't expected them to be directly involved in the release of a race sealed for thousands of years, but the unexpected comes from the unexpected.

"Oh. I apologize, I thought they'd been released some time before you were born and after the city faded. No news passes through this place, only the cycling of old stories lost to time. Except for the Hamilton legacy--my family. I've worked my life to keep it sustained. I only hope it was worth it."

[dustless]

...Still a long time, but only for Frisk, probably. Long after the war ended and monsters were mostly just stories, probably--Frisk doesn't know their history very well, so they're sort of lumping the 1800s with stories of witch hunts from eras even earlier.

Despite their general lack of knowledge, there's...something about that name that leaves their brow furrowed. Sort of familiar. "Stories keep going for a long time," they offer, neglecting to mention they can get pretty messed up in retelling. "What was...that story about?"

spoilers y/n???

[luckytobealive]

Admittedly, Eliza's the same way with the eras preceding hers. She isn't quite sure if the witch hunts were the 1500s or the 1600s. She's quite sure early colonization was the 1400s, though. That's besides the point.

"Of my family, do you mean?" That's what it seems like. It's... quite the story to tell. "I pray you've read the last name Hamilton in books and engraved in statues." It's true she has seen his face embedded in the currency, but if those kinds are still in circulation, she wouldn't know; and if anyone really knows anything of him beyond that he is on the currency.

[dustless]

"...statues? Not those. I...think books. Um. I'm...I did bad in school."

They've never actually cared about that before this, but now that they're looking at living--er, history, who thinks she should be known, Frisk's feeling...pretty bad.

"But my mama's a teacher," they add in a rush. "My new one. She prob'ly knows. I can...ask. Or bring her."

lmao just realized how ironic my username is rn

[luckytobealive]

Eliza is visibly a little crestfallen, but she cannot fault Frisk. They are young, and school does not work for everyone. Besides--complex history isn't typically taught to children who look as young as Frisk does.

Still. It was worth a shot.

And there is still hope.

"I couldn't ask to bother you and your mama too much. Ask her if the name 'Hamilton' is known; please return with an answer. I would… I would like to know if my husband has the legacy he deserved."