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]

"Well, yeah. Made of...whatever magic."

Frisk's a mix of skeptical and interested. Does he really think that'll make them afraid?

[boogerman]

"Just spirit magic. Just us." Him and the Sandman, two immortals locked in battle... a long slow battle.

He lies back like he was before, hands behind his head. Now what.

[dustless]

"'Just'," they say quietly. Sometimes it strikes them just how odd their life is. Monsters and spirits and magic everywhere.

They also can't get their thoughts quite away from the Nightmares.

"...'f I didn't get woke up, would it've turned into a horse?"

[boogerman]

"No, only the Sandman's dreams do that... if I touch them. You'd have to be dreaming one of his. And we just took care of that."

[dustless]

Dang, now they're curious.

...Oh well.

They're distracted and abruptly point into the sky. "Shooting star!"

[boogerman]

That did just happen. A truce with the Sandman and some nasty (well, NICE) accusations. Far more distracting than a shooting star.

"It's a bit of falling rock. Hooray."

[dustless]

"You're supposed to wish on them. Didn't think of any...still looks cool." You cannot quash their enthusiasm, Pitch.

[boogerman]

"I don't believe in wishes." Stupid childishness, wishing. "When has a wish come true by anything other than hard work?"

[dustless]

They turn their head towards him. They look a bit skeptical. Mr. Believing Has Power.

[boogerman]

"Don't look at me like that. I'm Fear, not Hope and Dreams and Warm Fuzzies."

[dustless]

They they decide to look at him like--blep.

"Hope helps hard work."

[boogerman]

"No, it doesn't. Why should it?"

[dustless]

"'Cause if you can't hope for it actually happening, then it gets too easy to give up."

[boogerman]

"I don't give up. Nothing is going to force me to give up." Even though there is no hope, he will go on.

[dustless]

...they weren't talking about him, specifically.

"Yeah. Seem pretty determined."

...

They reach out to gently pat his arm, anyway.

[boogerman]

Hope is for children, anyhow. Eggy Eggface down in Australia wouldn't spare any for the likes of Pitch Black.

"Good."

Uhh alright there, he'll accept it. He's getting somewhat used to it.

[dustless]

Bah. He isn't doesn't get it all, any more than Pitch has all fear, or Frisk has all determination.

They let the silence go on for a while again. But something about his phrasing...caught their ear.

"Mean jus' hard work to spread fear?"

[boogerman]

"I meant in general, all those kids who want to be astronauts or doctors and such, I didn't mean myself."

[dustless]

"Were just talking about how you don't give up."

[boogerman]

"The Sandman's not the only one who doesn't want me around, and yet here I am."

[dustless]

"...d'you want me to try yelling at them?"

[boogerman]

A joyless laugh. "No use. They have voices, they can yell back--or just ignore you."

[dustless]

Shrug. "Can deal with it. 'Ll still try if you ever want."

[boogerman]

Strange child, apparently ready to take on the world for his sake.

"Why, though?"

[dustless]

"'Cause you...shouldn't...you don't need to not be around. Sounds like they try to kill you a lot. And that always sucks."