boxfullofzeroes | more for the boogerman

dustless posting in

(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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

dustless

Well, he'd need to ask, then.

"Excellent!"

Toriel stands smoothly, then pauses. "Would you be able to make it to the kitchen?" Yes, he seems much more sober, but she cannot be sure if he is shaking off the remnants and acting very well.

From:

boogerman

Demand things of them, when they've been so decent as to let him in? ...Nah, not tonight. Not unless he gets bored and less full of feelings.

He stands up, dislodging Frisk and leaving the poor little thing all alone on the floor, wrinkling his nose a bit. "What? ...You know, you both ask the weirdest questions sometimes." Then--sorry, Toriel--he's fetching his laptop off the bed, folding it shut and tucking it beneath his arm. He'll 'feed' it later at some hotel, when he remembers.

From:

dustless

Whatever. Frisk pops up and races out, yanking the plugs of the christmas lights from the walls.

"I do not know if boogeymen can get hangovers. It is better safe than sorry."

From:

boogerman

"I can hardly get drunk. I'm not like you lot." He's fine. If he's going to get a headache, it'll be from the lights. What a stupid holiday.

From:

dustless

"'Hardly'," she repeats with a tiny bit of amusement. It may not have lasted long, but he very much went under.

The house is pretty dark by the time Frisk's through. They're balanced cross-legged on a kitchen stool, somehow.

From:

boogerman

"You'd be shocked at how much I'd had before I showed up." Enough to kill an elephant, maybe. He appreciates the darkness, how they seem to be making him feel comfortable! "Good stuff, too."

From:

dustless

"...Perhaps." Toriel carefully does not ask, and makes her way through to the stove. Everything tastes better with old-fashioned fire magic, but Pitch cannot use that. She is doing this as an example, after all.

"And what flavor should we have?" she asks the room.

"Vanilla," Frisk suggests.

From:

boogerman

Don't be looking at him, don't be looking at him...

"Cakes come in flavors not chocolate? Hahaha. Cakes are easy to steal, honestly, easier than snagging all the ingredients.

From:

dustless

Toriel is putting her glasses on and adjusting the temperature; Frisk is looking to make sure all the tools and ingredients are out. "Yeah. Sometimes there's too much chocolate."

(* Liar. There's no such thing!)

From:

boogerman

"Can't be. I thought the point was to rot your teeth out and terrorize the Tooth Fairy."

From:

dustless

"The point's that it tastes good."

"And teeth will not rot if you brush your teeth right after eating."

From:

boogerman

"She likes the teeth with cavities in, but you didn't hear that from me."

Yeah... they'll buy that, surely, coming from the expert.

From:

dustless

They do not.

Even so, Toriel speaks up. "That does not matter. Bad teeth are unhealthy teeth, and we do not encourage that," she says as she pours sugar and pre-softened butter into a bowl.

Frisk comes over when she gestures for them to, and they get to work mixing. "This makes the cake fluffier," they say, glancing back to where Pitch should be. "...think the word's leavening it."

From:

boogerman

Shame. Odds are the Tooth Fairy and the others will pop up at this house sometime, to make sure Frisk is in one piece after the Boogeyman visited. Watch them be nice to the other Guardians too, and thus begin disliking him.

Blech.

"I thought the modern word was raising?"

From:

dustless

"Oh! Yes, more commonly it is. But Frisk learned their cooking terminology from me, and it is...out of date, sometimes."

She plucks up a few eggs, carefully breaking them on the bowl's edge as Frisk keeps on mixing.

From:

boogerman

Mmm, eggs. Protein.

"Aren't we all, really?" Wasn't he going to horrify Toriel with his true age, at some point? Well, it's bound to happen sooner or later.

From:

dustless

"Older than humans tend to guess! Frisk, my child, will you help me sift the flour mix?"

They slide over as Toriel adds flour, baking powder, and a little salt to another bowl. Sift, sift. They've done this a lot.

From:

boogerman

Should he be taking notes? ... Nah, he'd rather just steal a cake than an entire kitchen and things to fill it with. How does one go about stealing a kitchen, anyhow? He'd have to carve an entire new room in his shadowy lair, using the shadows themselves...

"Not even you would guess high enough for me, I'm betting."

Willpower, very low. When was the last time he had someone to brag at? Haaa.

From:

dustless

He may regret this if he's invited to do more in the future.

"Hmm. You do not act very old...may I have a hint?"

From:

boogerman

"Frisk said the same thing, funny that. I can be immature if I want to, that's not a good insult."

Hmm, hint... "No. Take your first guess and keep going."

From:

dustless

"It was not an insult." Not any more than the teasing sort.

The flour mix is poured into the other bowl as Frisk holds it steady.

"Hmm...I guess...ten thousand."

From:

boogerman

"No." he says, amused. "You're warmer. Keep going."

From:

dustless

Frisk has to hold back from saying something ridiculous, like 'ten million'.

"Really!" Toriel had been overshooting on purpose, or so she had thought. She hums thoughtfully. "...Thirty thousand?"

From:

boogerman

His feet do something gleeful and silly--they're not looking, right? Too busy with the cake.

"Halfway. Of course, it's hard to keep track of time beyond that."