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

[boogerman]

He continues to lie there silently, trying to talk himself into returning to the party... and failing so far. What for? He came to enjoy himself and this right here is much better than going back for a bit of food and another shot at being walked through. It's also not as bright, nighttime is comfortable on his skin. The longer he lies here, the calmer he feels.

"What's so funny?"

[dustless]

"Just...somebody put my favorite colors in there. Wasn't 'specting it."

This is pretty nice. They can socialize more later. And this probably isn't the only fireworks show for the night, unless Mettaton and Alphys don't know about how fireworks go off at midnight, too. Highly doubtful.

[boogerman]

"Purple and gold?" One in three chance he's right.

"You're practically their mascot. It shouldn't come as a surprise."

[dustless]

"Pink an' blue," they correct easily. "And that's still...weird."

They look over at him, wondering if asking Pitch Black his favorite color--and then remember that he says black and gold suit each other.

...

They should get him a present that's gold-colored. A necklace or something.

[boogerman]

"Of course it's weird, anything with you involved is bound to be weird." He's not even wrong, though he's teasing. Weird kid, weird times he's had lately. (So would be getting a present. No human ever has, and so few spirits. His last set of lovely gold things were broken, too. He needs new ones.)

[dustless]

Frisk shrugs, watching dimming leftover sparks drift through the air. Fireworks already smell weird, but these even moreso, somehow. Must be the magic on them.

"You're the one makin' me sound like...a cartoon on a cereal box."

[boogerman]

"No. Not a joke, I didn't mean that." He hasn't looked at theme once, not after settling down. Only the Moon, the sky, and the fireworks.

[dustless]

And somehow, that reminds them of what they'd just seen happen.

"I mean, guess me being weird isn't much of a joke."

Frisk stretches, hands towards the sky, blocking out part of the fireworks with their fingers. They think about how they can maybe word things and, in the end, can't think of anything fancy.

Quietly, tentatively, they look at him from the corner of their eye and ask: "...you okay?"

[boogerman]

"You're weird and famous among the monsters as some kind of hero, even I can see that." The weird bit is a joke! The rest, no.

He draws back his legs, crossing one leg over the other, and keeps looking up for more bursts. Is he okay? Sure, in the sense that he's not injured, not too hungry and he will carry on. That's what he does... he keeps on going.

"I suppose. It happens all the time when I'm not paying attention."

rereading drunk thread to refresh memory, getting weirdly emotional

[dustless]

They're both of these, and a sort-of ambassador. 'Mascot' seems weirder than being called weird alone.

"Oh." They think they can relate, in a way. All the times they were thinking of what to do underground, not paying attention, and got hit by bullets.

"...I'm glad you...came to this party, jus' so you know. But sorry that happened."

D:?

[boogerman]

"You didn't do it. I wasn't paying attention." he repeats, for emphasis. "I knew there were humans here. I let my guard down." Which he must never ever do, as Pitch Black.

just poor lonely pitch.

[dustless]

"...shouldn't need your guard up at a party," they mutter, sitting up and glaring down at the bits of crowd they can see below.

piiitchipoo :(

[boogerman]

He raises a brow, not that they'd see--since he can't take his eyes off the nice dark starry sky.

"No? People everywhere? Of course I have to be paying them attention." What a strange mind someone must live in that they don't.

[dustless]

"Yeah, not to run...into them." Not through them. Them through him. Whatever.

[boogerman]

"Trust me, I didn't mean to." he says, bitterly. "It's a nasty feeling."

[dustless]

Impulse? Yes.

They lean over, reaching out, and pat his hand just once.

(Real.)

"Kids don't watch where they're going, anyway, usually. Shoulda seen I was holding it for somebody else."

[boogerman]

He flinches... inhales, and then calms himself. And leaves his hand within their reach.

"For who? The little idiot can't see me."

[dustless]

They make note of both of those things. They don't do anything else about the hand, yet.

"So? Wouldn't just hold it open for no reason. 'M not that weird. And there are little monsters, you know. Really little." They hold their hands a few inches apart.

[boogerman]

"So... he could have trod on someone?" Dark chuckle. "Learn something new every day. I haven't spotted any itty bitties."

[dustless]

"Yeah." They're gonna talk to that kid later. "Some of 'em fly--Whimsuns and stuff. You know it when you see it, it cries a lot. Or Whimsalot, it has armor and spears."

[boogerman]

"They sound like the baby Tooth Fairies. They're hummingbirds. No spears, but sharp little beaks."

[dustless]

"...babies?" There are babies? But he said there weren't lots of new spirits?

"They look sorta like fairies, with the wings. We can go look for some later, 'f you want." And...yeah, okay. Casually (outwardly, slow and careful inwardly), they scoot a little nearer to him and rest their fingers lightly over his. "Think the fireworks finale's coming up."

[boogerman]

"Little minis. I don't know what to call them. I don't know what she calls them." He shrugs his shoulders, despite lying flat. Rooftops are nice.

He tries not to tense, the irrational stupid part of his mind half expecting their fingers to suddenly slip through his like a nonbelievers... "Ah."

[dustless]

"...How mini are minis?" Frisk wants to know in case they see any.

(Also because tiny things are cute.)

Frisk doesn't move one iota, pretending they didn't notice. Their fingers are completely solid--a little cool from the night air at worst. "An' I think there'll be more later."

The finale ends in all the colors of the rainbow, loud enough to make the roof feel like it's shaking and their chest to feel like liquid. It's cool.

[boogerman]

"About this high?" He holds his thumb and first finger apart--very tiny, tiny enough to be gripped in his hand easily. (Not the hand Frisk is holding.) "Big enough to carry a tooth and a quarter."

He shuts his fat mouth while the last fireworks go off... only just while.

"I'll take you back in."