more for the boogerman

[dustless]

 (Continued from here~)

Frisk hopes there's no fight. 

They want to be left alone, sure, but that's not the only thing they hope for. Even they can't just fix a--rivalry, a longstanding hatred, at least not when the opposing parties actually know each other. But they also hope they can...lessen it, at least a bit. So the Sandman doesn't try to outright kill--no, they're sorry, 'banish', with lots of beating and tarry blood--Pitch when they see each other every time.

(Of course, they don't know the whole story. But they can't imagine that would matter.)

The time ticks down in companionable silence. 

Frisk keeps their eyes on the sky--

--and they sit straight up when they first spot glimmering gold in the clouds.

Comments

[dustless]

(Only other dogs can understand them,) Dogaressa answers for them.

And 'friendly to strangers' is about to get an answer as well. Endogeny writhes from beneath Frisk's fingers to move over to Pitch, half of them crawling up the wall, and they shove what could loosely be considered their upper torso towards his hands. Pet pet pet they want pets!

[boogerman]

Freaky.

He likes freaky and unique. Possibly likes those two things enough to get over the nastiness of the drool thing, and scratch the... dog. Dogs. Pet pet scratch pat.

"What am I not hearing them say?"

[dustless]

"They're telling you to pet them!" Dogamy says.

Predictable, Frisk thinks with a grin.

The mass of void around their legs whines and extends itself, bumping against Pitch--more like playful cats than dogs, really.

(They like you!) Dogaressa says.

[boogerman]

He scratches on them with both hands, nails long and probably good for itches. Heh. They sound like a dog (dogs) when they whine... Best not to think to hard on what it/they are. So, that train of thought is derailed. There have been equally as weird spirits, honestly.

"They said that? Can they understand me?"

[dustless]

A fuzzy/oozy/cuddly wall, slowly advancing into his hands.

Dogamy nods, looking jealously at those hands.

(You're GOOD at petting,) Dogaressa informs him.

[boogerman]

Good? Imagine that. All he's doing is pretending to scratch itches--is that all it takes?

Strange thing to be good at.

"Learn something new every day."

[dustless]

Pretending apparently works pretty well when you're supposed to be pretend yourself, it seems.

"You don't know lotsa dogs, do you?" Frisk asks.

Endogeny keeps pressing joyfully forward. His fingers start breaking their surface, the tips dipping into something warm and squishy.

[boogerman]

"Dogs who speak to me? Of course not. Horses, though, I have horses pouring out of my ears." Heh--he's grinning. They don't hang around him anymore, but it was the truth for years.

And then... oh, ew. No, thank you. It feels like digging into something rotting, and for all he knows it's harming her. So he stops the scratching.