They stare at him very, very hard for a minute, rediscovering his weird features. 'Lunatic' does fit this face.
And then--their gaze is still fixed forward, but they're not staring at him, their eyes are a little glassy, just thinking. Again, why did mama get them this? She left the boxes on the couch, and they peeked in one, but there was just a weirdly-designed quilt on top of everything else in it, so they couldn't really get an idea of the rest of the stuff. She probably wouldn't care that much, but Frisk still thinks they should wait a couple days for what she might wanna do with it all, or if she'd notice if they took other things.
They absently move their hand a little bit, watching his arms and odd wrist-circles shift against their skin. On another layer of thought--and maybe a little bit of subconscious superhero-style fondness--they start to think about that darkness-snuffing stuff, and then light, and then they're arcing him through the air.
Where is he? He's in the sky, around sunrise. (There's no fire anywhere.) All the clouds are quite pretty up here, and there are colorful flocks of birds all over. Eventually he finds a mountain's peak, looking at the snow curiously, flying in lower until he just barely skims it, sending powder rippling through the air from the breeze of his own flight.
--But it's a short fantasy. They end it by sitting up and resting him against the wall, matching their position. They have their cocoa to attend to.
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And then--their gaze is still fixed forward, but they're not staring at him, their eyes are a little glassy, just thinking. Again, why did mama get them this? She left the boxes on the couch, and they peeked in one, but there was just a weirdly-designed quilt on top of everything else in it, so they couldn't really get an idea of the rest of the stuff. She probably wouldn't care that much, but Frisk still thinks they should wait a couple days for what she might wanna do with it all, or if she'd notice if they took other things.
They absently move their hand a little bit, watching his arms and odd wrist-circles shift against their skin. On another layer of thought--and maybe a little bit of subconscious superhero-style fondness--they start to think about that darkness-snuffing stuff, and then light, and then they're arcing him through the air.
Where is he? He's in the sky, around sunrise. (There's no fire anywhere.) All the clouds are quite pretty up here, and there are colorful flocks of birds all over. Eventually he finds a mountain's peak, looking at the snow curiously, flying in lower until he just barely skims it, sending powder rippling through the air from the breeze of his own flight.
--But it's a short fantasy. They end it by sitting up and resting him against the wall, matching their position. They have their cocoa to attend to.