Not a talkative child at the best of times, alone now, and so their conclusion goes unspoken: a demon. He doesn't fit anything else too clearly (except maybe some sort of fae, but their knowledge is limited to the sort closer to Tinkerbell than anything). There are types out there his face reminds them of, the kind that some people wear as masks in some of the festivals. Oni, they think. 'Cept this one doesn't have horns or the right colors.
Frisk does not put him down. For another couple of minutes, they keep petting his 'wings' and letting their thoughts slide around.
Eventually, they hold him out and 'stand' him on the surface of the desk next to them, supporting him with their fingers beneath his arms. The lamp, the computer, those are the outlines of buildings, strings of light stretched between them. It's deep at night in the best part of the city, and Snowdrake is laughing to the side, sending out a flurry of ice beneath his wings to catch the light even more.
A festival, a party! Just for the sake of it!
But just that. A booming bell from one of the churches on the other side of Frisk's block chimes, and they're pulled from playtime again, jerking their head to look outside.
There's kids who play on the playground, out late where their parents don't watch close, just like theirs. It's time, and they haven't got to go see any of their friends for a while...
For a split second, they consider bringing their new toy. On a second glance, they decide it's too risky. Not going to get him broke on the first day they've got him.
Frisk strides across the room, dropping Lunatic down on their pillow, and heads out. They close their bedroom door behind them, and the door of the apartment follows after they jam their shoes on--though lots quieter than Mama.
The apartment is empty of human life...and there's quite a gap between the floor and the bottom of the bedroom door.
From his place on the desk, Snowdrake stretches. "Aw. That would've been a cool party."
Edited (noticing a typo ages late, As Usual) 2018-08-27 02:39 (UTC)
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it's very Yuri™️
Frisk does not put him down. For another couple of minutes, they keep petting his 'wings' and letting their thoughts slide around.
Eventually, they hold him out and 'stand' him on the surface of the desk next to them, supporting him with their fingers beneath his arms. The lamp, the computer, those are the outlines of buildings, strings of light stretched between them. It's deep at night in the best part of the city, and Snowdrake is laughing to the side, sending out a flurry of ice beneath his wings to catch the light even more.
A festival, a party! Just for the sake of it!
But just that. A booming bell from one of the churches on the other side of Frisk's block chimes, and they're pulled from playtime again, jerking their head to look outside.
There's kids who play on the playground, out late where their parents don't watch close, just like theirs. It's time, and they haven't got to go see any of their friends for a while...
For a split second, they consider bringing their new toy. On a second glance, they decide it's too risky. Not going to get him broke on the first day they've got him.
Frisk strides across the room, dropping Lunatic down on their pillow, and heads out. They close their bedroom door behind them, and the door of the apartment follows after they jam their shoes on--though lots quieter than Mama.
The apartment is empty of human life...and there's quite a gap between the floor and the bottom of the bedroom door.
From his place on the desk, Snowdrake stretches. "Aw. That would've been a cool party."