[This is the perfect opportunity for Gracie to be distracted by her fellow Pokemon, floating after them in concern. (Hold on guys, I'm the strongest level out of the three of us!) Asriel barely notices, his attention fixed first on his father, so different but so similar to how he's always remembered him, reaching out and concerned; and then on Frisk, when they come close. His breathing's begun to calm down, at least, but his heart is still pounding.
He can't hide anymore. He can't run anymore. And, at the same time, he doesn't want to run anymore.
Slowly, slowly, Asriel pushes himself up in a sitting position, head bowed, eyes brimming with frightened tears. He takes Frisk's hand first, holding it tight (not tight enough to hurt, but enough to almost ask, with the gesture, to borrow a bit of their strength. They've always been so strong, Asriel thinks, and he can't help but admire them for it). With his Dad, he's...a bit more hesitant, not because of how strange their hands are (no paws, no claws, no fur), but because he felt guilty. After all he'd done, known and secret, and what he'd just tried to do, did he really deserve to hold his father's hand again? He...didn't seem angry, either, and he had every right to be.]
I...I'm...[He takes a breath. God, he's shaking through and through, like a leaf in the wind, and his voice is weak and small as his other hand reaches out to Asgore.] I'm so...rry...
[They're the only words he can bring himself to say as he reaches towards Asgore, not quite able to take his hand. He. He wants you both - he wants the comfort of the innocent past and the security of the solemn present. He's just scared.]
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He can't hide anymore. He can't run anymore. And, at the same time, he doesn't want to run anymore.
Slowly, slowly, Asriel pushes himself up in a sitting position, head bowed, eyes brimming with frightened tears. He takes Frisk's hand first, holding it tight (not tight enough to hurt, but enough to almost ask, with the gesture, to borrow a bit of their strength. They've always been so strong, Asriel thinks, and he can't help but admire them for it). With his Dad, he's...a bit more hesitant, not because of how strange their hands are (no paws, no claws, no fur), but because he felt guilty. After all he'd done, known and secret, and what he'd just tried to do, did he really deserve to hold his father's hand again? He...didn't seem angry, either, and he had every right to be.]
I...I'm...[He takes a breath. God, he's shaking through and through, like a leaf in the wind, and his voice is weak and small as his other hand reaches out to Asgore.] I'm so...rry...
[They're the only words he can bring himself to say as he reaches towards Asgore, not quite able to take his hand. He. He wants you both - he wants the comfort of the innocent past and the security of the solemn present. He's just scared.]