the_isle | Your Friends Have Turned To Stone

As usual, the horrible thing happened around midnight. There was a terrible noise like stone scraping on stone and the whole school shook briefly and then they appeared. Crudely hewn stone statues that still somehow managed to evoke the memory of who they were meant to represent to those who knew them.

The statues were of enemies, foes, rivals, anyone that one of the Misery-called might never want to see again. The statues look like rough hewn stone, but any attempts to deal with them the way one might a stone statue would fail. Even moving them would prove impossible, even with team work.

There is one blocking the doorway to every room used as a bedroom currently. A person could get in and out past them if they are small enough, nimble enough, or just don't mind losing a chunk of skin to the rough stone as they scrape past. Those ones would especially be targeted at whoever sleeps there.

But the rest of them will scatter the halls, making them hard to transverse. The majority of them were blocking what little light sources existed in the halls, making the passageways darker than usual. Much darker. Darker enough that it almost seems like a prime place for jump scares...

Blocking the doorway out of the school were three such statues. One was of a young man with short hair. One was of a young woman in a ballgown with a skirt that alone took up most of the doorway. And one was of a barefoot girl with impossibly long hair that snaked down the hallway, making a tripping hazard all the way between the door and the room Mother Gothel had claimed.

Getting in and out of the school until at least one of the statues was removed was going to be nearly impossible.

The statues in general couldn't be moved or broken in any conventional way, however. But some trial and error... or just happenstance might well provide the answer. If the Misery-called who knew the person the statue represented talked about the person to someone else in front of the statue... That would work. Though what they said would matter.

If they managed to dredge up something to say, some tale or anecdote or comment that was actually positive... the statue would vanish in a haze of black and silver glitter that would spread everywhere in easy reach and defy all attempts to clean it.

However, if the story or comments are negative, or give away some secret that the person the statue is of would not want shared the statue will explode in a shower of stone, one stone of which would hit the Misery-called hard enough to hurt but not to break skin. However where the stone struck the Misery-called would bear a new scar. A small pile of stone would remain where the statue had been, also resting all attempts to move or remove it, causing anyone walking past to have to carefully step over it so as to not trip. Which is not ideal if one is carrying something, or for example, running away from a crazed animatronic.

When The Mess Fades - A week later.

A week after they appeared any remaining statues would just vanish with another loud and horrifying noise. As would all the scars, all the rubble piles, and all the glitter. In their place where each statue had been would be a small bunch of grapes covered in rock dust. They are extraordinarily sour. In theory edible once the dust is washed off. In practice only the desperate would want to eat them. Whoever does eat them will be plagued by nightmares about whoever the statue had been of, even if they didn't know the person themselves. The nightmares will only happen for one night after eating the grapes, but if someone stretches out the grapes to eat a few every night for a week... that is a week of bad dreams. And also, again, they are sour. The sourest candy in the world isn't half as sour as these grapes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Foulques had only just begun to stir himself, but at the sound of the scream, he was rolling to his feet and into a fighting stance, spear in hand, almost before he knew what he was doing. As consciousness caught up with reflexes however, he quickly realized that there was no enemy to threaten them, and holstered his spear. Now thoroughly awake, he moved to kneel by Chara. "Chara?", he said. "Are you hurt? Why did you scream?"

Chara pointed a shaking hand at the small statue, unable to look away from it, shaking terribly.

He looked where Chara was pointing and saw that three stone statues blocked the doorway. One of Chara themself on the left hand side, one of a young man he didn't recognize on the right- though even rough-hewn, the uniform he wore looked somewhat familiar-, and in the center... His eyes narrowed at the visage of the Miqo'te who stood there, a man whose smirk he recognized even in this form.

But his own anger was put aside for the moment; it would do no good for Chara. "They are statues of stone, nothing more," he assured them. "Though I'm certain their presence is part of this place's poor sense of humor, they can do you no harm."

"Why does it look like that?!" they asked outrage trying to cover terror.

"I don't know," he admitted, frowning at the statues. "Though given that they were clearly put there by magic- it would have been impossible to carve one such statue in secret here, let alone three, even if one did have decent tools-, I don't doubt that there is a reason."

"What about them frightens you so, though? They're going to be troublesome to move to allow us to get out of the room, to be sure, but there's nothing particularly alarming about them."

"Why dos it look like... like....." like them but human, but they didn't want to put that into words, it was too scary.

He was puzzled. "The one on the right is no one I know," he said. "The one in the middle, however, I do, or at least did. And the one on the left is you, albeit crudely carved, like both of the others. They look like that because the people they were meant to represent do, though why these three figures in particular were chosen, I can't say."

"That can't be me! I don't want it! Make it go away!" Chara yelled, though it was a desperate sort of begging, just loud. The child moved to hide behind Foulques' legs.

Ah, so that was it. He didn't quite understand why, but the child was afraid of their own appearance. He'd assumed that the child was aware that deciding to call themselves a monster didn't magically alter their visage to match, but apparently not.

"What would you have me do, child?", he said. "I can't smash stone with my bare hands, and a spear would be equally ineffective. And in any case..." He crouched again, turning to face Chara, resting a hand on their shoulder. "There are some truths from which one cannot run or hide, and the truth one sees in the mirror- or in this case, a statue made in one's image- is one of those truths." His tone was gentle, but his hand steady and firm.

"No! that's not me! I'm a Monster! A MONSTER!" they cried, hiding their face in Foulques' clothes, sobbing as they pulled on then tops of their ears desperately like they were trying to make them grow or something.

Foulques took hold of their hands and gently pulled them away from their ears lets they hurt themselves. "You are precisely who you say you are," he said gently. "But deciding that it is so doesn't change one's appearance, and neither will pulling on your ears like that. And for my part I see no cause for fear or shame in your appearance. Your body has served you well all your life, and carried you through many trials; I would not see you harm yourself in a vain attempt to change its form."

"I'm not a human any more! I don't want to look like one! I'm me! I'm a Monster like you!"

He considered for a moment, how to reply. Now was likely not the right time to tell them that in his own world, he would have been considered human. But he also had to be certain that they wouldn't harm themself in a useless attempt to look more like him.

"I've come to believe," he said, "that appearance is a very poor way of judging who someone is. A fair face may hide a foul heart, and vice-versa. Thus, if you wish to be more like me, you would be better served by paying attention to what you are taught and continuing to work to better yourself as we've begun to do. Tis far more important of a thing for you to be a person of good character than for you to look any particular way."

"However... if when you've committed to such for some time, and are capable of making the decision calmly- not merely reacting out of fear or shame-, if you still desire it then, we can begin to seek out a safe way to alter your appearance. Which does not in any way include attempting to stretch your ears; much to the dismay of many a short-eared Elezen, they do not work that way."

"I don't want to look human! I don't! I'm not human! I hate humans! They should all just die!" Their voice got more and more shrill and panicked with each uttered word.

Foulques sighed, and picked them up, turning as he stood so that Chara was facing away from the statues. "I will not say that you don't mean those things," he said. "For at present, I'm sure you do. I too have said many things in the midst of fear or anger, meaning every word, that I came to greatly regret later. And I believe that the same is true for you, as you are a child with a good and kind heart."

"I cannot change your appearance, nor the appearance of the statue. But if you need to cry, or rage at the unfairness of the world, do so with me. I will still be here when your tears have left you."

Char clung to Foulques sobbing and screaming in frustration. Had it been anyone else there would have been trashing and struggling rather than clinging. "I'M NOT HUMAN! NOT HUMAN!!!"

He occasionally winced slightly at the volume of Chara's cries so near his ears, but otherwise stood firm, supporting them with one hand and gently rubbing their back with the other. Sometimes hard feelings simply had to exhaust themselves before one could be open to reason, and this was likely one such time.

After a while, Chara was screamed out, trembling and sniffling but no longer shouting. So... an improvement...?

Definitely an improvement. He continued to rub their back gently as he held them. "Do you feel a bit better now?", he asked gently after a few moments.

"I'm not human," they said in a raspy sob. "I'm not. I don't wanna be."

"You are what you choose to be," he said gently. "The Dreemurs accepted you as you are. As do I. And Sun. And Chell. They did not ask you to grow fur, or longer ears, or branches, or to make parts of yourself glow in order to have a place with them, and neither shall we. You are Chara, and that is enough. Whatever you look like, you will always have a place at my side, and I at yours."

"Then why does that stupid old rock hafta look human?" They asked in a broken sob.

"Because it is, as you said, a 'stupid old rock'," he said. "Stone is a thing very resistant to change. You are a living child and will grow and change over time, but even years from now, a stone will likely remain exactly as it is. Assuming, of course, it doesn't vanish in a seven-night like most of the strange occurrences here."

"I want it to vanish now... before anyone else sees it."

"I don't think that anyone who has seen you would find it a great revelation," he said. "But perhaps we could put it behind something at least." With the larger statues it would likely be impossible to hide them, but they might be able to manage it with one Chara's size.

"Tis almost a shame though. I've never had any great affinity with sculpture, but I wouldn't mind having one of you. Or perhaps Sun or Chell, though perhaps not one large enough to block the doorway. Or perhaps a painting. It's been some time since I had any place to display any sort of artwork that I've had little time to think about it." Maybe a slight shift in topic to something a bit lighter would ease Chara out of their distress?