Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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* (You don’t remember the early days very well.)

* (Thinking back to them is like trying to name a color you’ve never seen, or draw a man who doesn’t exist.)

* (Your thoughts are too present, these days, to hold onto what it’s like to be nothing anymore. The sense of nothingness slips through your mind, vanishing every time you attempt to shine a light on it. NOTHING cannot exist where SOMETHING is.)

* (...)

* (...But you remember the smell of apple trees.)

* (You remember standing in a clearing against a forest of hundreds of apple trees. Their leaves are flared yellow, their roots peppered with fallen fruit.) 

* (The DOOR is locked behind you. It will remain locked until the PROPHECY begins to unfurl. You cannot turn back.)

* (...Ahead of you, however, there are apples.)

* (You do not know what an apple is. You see something round, and small, and red, piled under the trees. There is nothing in the PROPHECY about it. It seems not too important.) 

* (So you stand here.)

* (You stand here for a very, very, very long time.)

* (...You are unsure how long the PROPHECY will take. It is possible you will stand in this field until the meager POWER coursing through your vessel collapses, and you are replaced.)

* (It is possible you have been replaced many times before.)

* (...Your stomach growls, though the SOUL has not yet descended to give you motion and reason for being.)

* (There is an apple not far from your foot. It stands out in a grainy red against the dry green of the field grass, the yellow leaves of the trees, the cyan sky. These are the only four colors you know, and it is somehow nice to see them accounted for. But there’s still another color on the dried leaves beneath the apple, a smudge immediately between red and yellow, and you realize you do not have a word for it.) 

* (Similarly, you do not have a word for what compels you to want a closer look at the apple. It seems not too important, yet not too unimportant. It fascinates you.) 

* (A voice cuts in. It is too sharp and immediate to be the SOUL, but you startle, anyway.)

"You’re allowed to eat the apples here, y’know. The cops might get pissed about it, but it’s not, like, illegal."

* (You look up. Towards the north, standing against a break between the trees, is a deer-like monster carrying a baseball bat. Her shoes are as red as the apples.) 

"Fahaha... why the long face? Or... no face, I guess. What, do you need someone to tell you how to eat?"

* (You don’t respond. You aren’t sure if you’re allowed to, and ultimately the choice doesn’t matter. She moves forward without you, crossing to one of the trees. She hesitates for only a moment, then strikes at the tree with her bat, jostling loose a myriad of redder, fresher apples.)

"Here, on the house. Actually, it’s on your head."

* (She places one of the apples directly atop your hair. It’s the first thing you can remember touching you, besides the grass against your shoes and the DOOR at your back. The smell is so overwhelming it makes your arm itch.)

* (Slowly, of your own volition, you reach your arm up to take the apple. Your own motion is startling, the world turning and shifting as your body does, as if in defiance of the idea. But the apple is warm to the touch, and you can’t remember having felt warmth before. It is... pleasant.)

* (The monster tosses her own apple in her palm a few times, then bites into it. Her teeth cut through its flesh with a crackling noise like breaking static.) 

* (You don’t remember if you are supposed to have a mouth. Certainly, you aren’t supposed to speak. Your voice, along with your eyes and nose and ears, is blinded by darkness, so that it may not overhear or oversee those who chose to make you, may not interfere with the ultimate will of the SOUL.)

* (...But the SOUL is not here, yet. And as you put the apple, warmed with sunlight, closer to your face, it seems to banish away the darkness for only a moment, allowing you to bite.) 

* (The taste is...)

* (The taste is.)

* (THE TASTE THE TASTE THE TASTE THE TASTE) 

* (You are overwhelmed by SWEET food. It is better than SOFT, SOUR, SALTY, PAIN, and COLD. It is better than every other food combined.) 

* (RED is better than any other color combined.)

* (You discard any previous favorites as you devour the apple. You do not even mind when you hit the core, though its sudden bitter taste adds a surprising new dynamic to the incredible SWEETness.)

* (And your stomach stops growling. The apple, in its sheer light-warmed power, has cured your vessel.) 

"Faha... You’re one weird little monster, you know that?"

* (The deer monster looks at you without any hesitation or darkness to her stare. Her fur is the same not-red not-yellow as the dried leaves, and a part of you yearns to add that color to your collection. It will not be your favorite color, not like RED, but it seems pleasant, all the same.)

* (She is not the SOUL. But she was correct about the apples’ power. So, you decide to follow her until the SOUL arrives.) 

"Whoa, hey! Personal space, little guy!"

* (The deer monster pushes you back a step.)

* (...You decide to follow at a distance such that no one can tell you’re associated. You stop once she relaxes, rubbing the back of her head.)

"Man, so much for having a private hangout spot today... Where did you even come from?"

* (You are unsure how to respond. You look back at the DOOR, though it remains locked.)

"The old bunker? Really?"

* (She laughs.)

"Faha! Nice prank. But even I can’t get into that thing, and I’ve been trying for, like, literally years."

* (You are unsure how to respond. She seems unsure how to respond, as well.)

"Uh... okay. But seriously, this isn’t exactly a place for baby monsters to play around by themselves. Pretty sure Mr. Boom said there’s lead paint on that thing? Which, obviously, is cool as hell. But also maybe not safe? So you should... probably go home to your real parents. Yeah."

* (You look to the DOOR again.)

"Okay, no, that’s NOT your home. That is a LOCKED EMERGENCY BUNKER. There’s NO ONE IN THERE. Go to your REAL home, got it?"

* (You consider your options, then step closer to the deer monster.)

"Oh, shi--shoot. Uh. Okay???"

* (The deer monster whispers to herself.)

"Jeez, what do I even do in this situation...? Toriel would know what to do, right? She’s great with little kids."

* (She speaks up, louder.)

"All right. Listen up, punk. Hold my hand, and I’m gonna take you back to the Dreemurrs. There’s this goat mom there that’ll love you. They’ll know what you’re supposed to be doing. Probably."

* (Your mouth, newly exposed to the light, tips upwards into a smile at the idea. Someone who knows what you’re supposed to be doing is exactly who you need. And though your steps are wobbling and uncertain, the deer monster’s hand around yours is as warm as a fresh apple.)

"I’m Dess, by the way. Short for December. You got a name?"

* (You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. You don’t know how to speak. You try to focus on the name your CREATORS called you, to let Dess pick it up from your being, but she doesn’t seem to be looking at your insides. She’s focused on the path ahead, your hand in one hand and her bat loosely held in the other.) 

"...Guess not. That’s fine. Mr. Dreemurr will probably just give you some weirdass nickname, anyway. He’s such ass at names. Like, seriously, Asriel? As in, combination of Asgore and Toriel? What’s next, Togore?"

* (You blink at the forest as it goes by both of you. There are all sorts of noises coming from it, scents around it, light filtering through branches in sparkling beams. It’s all deeply overwhelming and strange, and you regret not bringing more apples with you along the way.) 

"Tell you what, little guy. If he tries to call you Togore, I’ll come up with a better nickname. Like... uh. Snowy? Shit, that’s already taken. Frosty? Oh, maybe Christmas? Let me know if any of these stick."

* (You tilt your head at her.)

"...What, you seriously don’t know Christmas, either? You know, the famous December holiday where the giant polar bear Saint Krisolas breaks through every monster’s window to deliver presents, throw ice cubes, and share news about the PROPHECY? They make a hundred TV specials about it every year? It's, like, classic monster culture?"

* (Your grip tightens on her hand as you nod at the word PROPHECY.)

"Faha! That got you, huh? Alright. We’ll keep that one for now, Saint Kris."

* (Your grip tightens again at the name, a strange new warmth settling in your stomach along with the remains of the apple. It seems... right, somehow. A touch of personal warmth and color in a sea of monochrome.)

* (Suddenly, you realize you are not in a hurry for the SOUL to arrive.)

* (You want more RED things, first. You want more SWEET things. You want to spend more time with Dess, who knows how to eat apples, and with the Dreemurrs, who know what you’re supposed to be doing. You want to spend years and years and years with them.)

* (Maybe after that, when you’ve done everything you can and explored every option, you will be ready for the SOUL. When the Dreemurrs and Dess and the Christmas holiday stop feeling so much like what Dess called "your REAL HOME", you will do what you can to summon the SOUL, yourself.) 

* (For now, though... maybe it is enough to be yourself for a while. Maybe it’s enough to explore what being yourself might mean, in this world.) 

* (You hope, on the day the PROPHECY begins to unfold and the bunker unlocks once again, that the SOUL will understand.)  

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Toriel stood in the grocery store aisle, trying to find a coupon for dinosaur egg oatmeal, when December Holiday called to give her the news. 

Her phone lit up, blaring a trill of tinned piano notes loud enough for the cat browsing milk cartons down the aisle to jump and hiss at her. She muttered an apology as she dug at the shallow trench of her jeans pocket to hush the damned thing up. Several jabs at the protective case and several curses later, she managed it. 

“Ah--hello, this is Toriel?” 

A rough, youthful voice crackled through the other end. “Mizzus Dreemurr? Hey, uh. Hi. Weird question. Do you know any monsters in town that are, like... gray?”

“Hello to you, too, December.” Toriel tucked the phone against her shoulder to examine two oatmeal boxes. Hrm. The Family Size box was 500 G, but the individual packets were more convenient for measuring, and only a couple G more... “I suppose the Dogs have some gray fur, though Dogaressa might be a bit offended at the implication, haha. Does that help?” 

“Uh... not really. That’s a little, uh, fluffier than I’m looking for.” 

“Oh, I didn’t realize fluffiness was important. My apologies.” Hrm. If she got the packets, she could tuck a few into Asriel’s lunch box--but how ever would he be able to heat them up at school? Maybe if Gerson let her use the staff break room... “Napstablook is furless, I believe, and has a certain gray translucency to them. Is this for a school project?” 

“Something like that. It’s--” The line rustled with static. “Hey, don’t eat that, Saint Kris! Bad! Down!” 

Toriel paused, one paw outstretched halfway to the oatmeal packets. Saint Kris? As in, the historical monster figure? 

...No, that would be silly. Must be a cousin of the Holidays. (Or perhaps a dog, considering the reprimand.)

“Is everything all right over there, my child?”

“Fine. Yeah, great. This is exactly what I wanted to do with my Saturday.” A muttered curse. “Listen. I found some sorta weird... gray... furless... kid wandering around the emergency bunk--around the church, I mean. Where I was just hanging out, doing, um, normal church stuff.” 

“December...” Toriel lowered her hand and her voice, trying to decide if it was worth scolding her. She must’ve told December a hundred times to not play her Gritty Lone Apocalypse Survivor games around the bunker. It wasn’t safe, with all the overgrowth and decay there. At the very least, she might get tetanus. 

No, no. There was something more important, here. Toriel’s grip tightened on her phone. “Nevermind. I’m sorry, did you say there’s a child there? Alone?” 

“Yeah, I was sorta hoping they were one of your students or something.” Another rustle. “No, Krismas, you can’t have the phone. But yeah. They’re really small, pale, um... no horns or tail, two arms, two legs. Tiny ears. No fur, but some hair? They don’t really talk, either.” 

Toriel bit her lip. That was... more than a bit concerning. A monster that was small, furless, hornless, tailless? The poor thing must be so cold and defenseless. What on earth were they doing wandering around the bunker of all places? 

“I see. I’ll be right there, my child. Please hold on just a bit longer.” Something about that description bothered her, though. Something familiar. Why, it was almost like December wasn’t describing a monster at all, but a... 

Surely not.

But...

Toriel pondered it over as she checked out, shoving what groceries she’d managed to gather into a single paper bag and hoisting it against one hip as she scurried out. December was still on the call, so Toriel spoke up again once she’d waved goodbye to the cheery bunny shopkeep and made her way outside.

“December, dear. May I ask, how many fingers do they have?” A passing gator shot her an odd look. Toriel waved awkwardly back. 

“How many...? Hang on, let me check. Hey, Krismas, gimme your hand. Stop squirming, just lemme see.” Rustling. Then: “Huh, that’s weird. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a monster with five fingers before.” 

Toriel slowed to a stop, and nevermind that she was halfway down the street towards the church. Thank goodness there wasn’t much for traffic today. She wasn’t sure if she could step out of the way even if there was a car coming.

“I see... That’s... perhaps because...” She swallowed hard and dropped her voice, just in case anyone might overhear. “I do not believe that is a monster child, December.” 

“The hel--heck do you mean, ‘not a monster child’? What else could--” Dess’s voice jolted up, then just as quickly dropped back down into a mumble. “Wait. You mean...?”

“I believe that is a human child, yes.” 

Silence echoed on the other end, long enough that Toriel was about to speak up before December squeaked out a reply.

“...A human, huh?”

“Yes.”

“As in... faha... like ‘humans in the closet’ or ‘human horror movie marathons’? Like... a real human? From the war documentaries?” 

“If I am not mistaken.” Toriel picked up her pace, scurrying across the street and towards the familiar green tiled roof of the librarby. A bit further, now. Faster, now. (It wasn’t as if she didn’t believe December could handle herself--or that a small child would want to do much harm--but an unease settled in her stomach all the same.) 

“Cheesus crust,” December muttered. 

“I am not too far from the police station. If you’d like, perhaps we should meet and proceed there. That would be the next reasonable action to address a missing child.”

“And now I’m supposed to talk to the COPS?” December’s voice cracked. “Shit. Shoot. Uh.”

“It’s only Asgore, dear. He’s known you since birth.”

“You know that makes it worse, right? He knows what I’m like! Shit, shit, he’s gonna ask so many questions and--” She cut off with a strangled scream. Toriel’s heart skipped several beats.

“December!?” Toriel yelped.

“Mizzus Dreemurr holy SHIT it found a STICK! It’s coming right at me, NO-NO-NO-NO--!”

“December, stay calm! I’m on my way!” The words came out in strained puffs as Toriel sprinted towards Town Hall. She could see the sweeping arch of the church just ahead, looming bright over the masses of green-gold trees. A can of corn bounced free from her grocery bag, glancing off the sidewalk and rolling away. Toriel didn’t stop to reclaim it.

“Tell Noelle and Dad I love them, tell Mom to avenge me, it’s all over, it’s--oh.” December’s screaming stopped, as abruptly as it’d began.

Toriel didn’t quite have enough breath to speak with, but she tried anyway, puffing out a confused, “Dess?”

“It just sorta... poked me. With the stick. I’m fine, actually.” She let out a breathy laugh, rattling across the line like jingle bells. “Y’know what? I think I, uh... I left... Noelle... on the stove. I gotta go back. You got this whole humans-and-cops thing from here, right, Mizzus Dreemurr?”

“What?” Toriel nearly tripped over the sidewalk curb. She staggered and caught herself, grimacing as yet more groceries rolled away. “I most certainly do not ‘got this’, December Holiday. Asgore will have to get details from you of what exactly happened, where you were, not to mention investigating the area, looking up local missing child reports--”

“Right! Yeah! Sounds like you already have all kinds of ideas on what to do. I’ll leave you to that. Thanks, auntie!” 

“December, wait, that’s not what I meant--” 

A click.

December had hung up. And, presumably, made her cervine ancestors proud and scurried off somewhere.

Toriel stood on the grass in front of the church, phone in one hand and battered grocery bag in the other, panting for breath, for several long seconds. 

Then she let out a low groan, dropping the phone into her bag so she could slap her own forehead.

That December girl was going to be the death of her, one of these days. She swore, if either of them made it to retirement, it would be purely by the grace of the Angel and nothing more. 

All right. She had to focus. December might be... a bit unhelpful, at times, but Toriel could hardly blame the girl for being nervous around humans. (Or cops, she supposed.) Hometown wasn’t exactly populated with humans. To her, they must’ve seemed like creatures from a history book or a nature documentary, feral and fatal. 

Toriel couldn’t even say with certainty that they weren’t. If the battered human history book in the librarby was anything to go by...

No, no. She shouldn’t think like that. This was a child. A lost, defenseless, likely frightened child. Human or monster, it--they--needed compassion more than suspicion. 

(She ignored how her heart was still racing in her chest from hearing December scream. Or how dark the forest got this far south. Or how suddenly, abruptly alone she was, on her way to encounter a human.)

(Stop that. She wasn’t a little goat anymore, screaming and fainting at any loud noise or horror story. She was an adult, a mother, and she’d act like one.)

Toriel drew a deep breath, then let it out. Then, with only the slightest tremor to her voice, she called out.

“Hello? Little human?” They had a name, that’s right. December mentioned it. “Krismas? Can you hear me?”

Something rustled in the branches. Toriel jolted back, squeezing her grocery bag tighter--but it was only a squirrel, scampering up a trunk. Then a crow, shaking out its wings and staring ahead with beady black eyes. Then a breeze, sending the leaves whispering across each other with the faint scent of lake algae and fermenting apples. 

Had it always been so dark down here? She’d rarely been in this part of town--only during emergency prep sessions, gathering with other school staff or Town Hall attendees to discuss evacuation procedures. Even then, the forest had been alive with chattering townsfolk or children, her head too wrapped up in retaining information to mind the gloom.

Alone, however. Alone, the gloom seemed to creep in at the edges, tugging at her feet and the back of her head like a yawning chasm. 

Nonsense. It’s just a child. A helpless, lost, innocent child. There’s no need to be afraid. There’s no need to--

A flash of gray fabric. Something there. Toriel squeezed the grocery bag hard enough for a cardboard box to crumple and spill rolling trickles of dinosaur oatmeal. Fresh grain and harsh chemical candy smells mixed with the scent of apples as she sucked in a breath.

...And just as soon let it back out, her body relaxing, as she spotted the human.

They sat a few yards down the forest path, drawing in the dirt with a stick. Their dark brown hair was flecked with fallen leaves, their grayish fingers and sweater sticky with apple pulp and dirt, and all of a sudden Toriel felt very silly for being afraid at all. 

This was no threat to their lives. This human was smaller than many of her own students--why, she doubted they’d even come up to her hip at their full height. They held the stick with the full-fisted intensity of a very young child still learning fine motor skills, hunched in concentration as they scrawled out what looked like a lopsided, four-pointed star. 

Her heart ached. Perhaps humans really were irredeemable creatures. Why else would anyone leave such a precious thing alone in the woods like this? If December hadn’t called...

Toriel crouched down by the human, grimacing only a little as her knees popped at the motion. “Hello, there, little one. What are you doing...?”

She trailed off with a flutter of unease as the human tilted their head towards her. In the gloom--or perhaps despite it--she couldn’t make out a single feature of their face, save perhaps the faintest whisper of a thin mouth and rounded chin. It was unsettling, like a blank canvas.

Well! Then!! She’d just have to let them draw on that canvas when they were ready to move on from dirt portraits. Metaphorically speaking, anyway. She forced a smile, trying to lead by example.

“That’s a lovely drawing you’re working on. You have such a... unique art style.” 

The human tilted their head at her, but Toriel swore she could see the ghost of a smile. Whether because they understood her words or because they were imitating hers, she couldn’t say, but she nodded her approval regardless.

“Do not be afraid, my child. My name is Toriel. I am a teacher here in Hometown.” Her knees were starting to hurt, but she stayed crouched. “My friend called me over to check on you. She told me your name is... erm... Saint Krismas? Is that correct?” 

The human stared--could they even stare, with eyes covered in shadow?--back. Then they nodded, once, and Toriel breathed a short sigh of relief.

“It is lovely to meet you, Kris. There hasn’t been a human in Hometown for a long time. Not since--” She remembered the documentaries, and just as soon dismissed them. “--Well, nevermind that! You’re of course welcome to stay as long as you’d like.” 

Their gray skin perturbed her. She couldn’t recall if it was impossible for a human to have gray skin, but from what she remembered through television, it was abnormal. Was that perhaps why this poor thing had been abandoned? Some illness or condition that had outcasted them, or perhaps disoriented them so much they’d somehow wandered all the way here? 

They didn’t seem much for conversation to explain themself, either. Perhaps the trauma or disorientation had hindered their language development...? 

Another heartache. Before she could stop herself, she reached out to grasp Kris’s hand, pressing the beans of her paws against their skin. It was cool to the touch, as if they’d been out here for hours. 

Right. She fortified her grim resolve. 

“Come now, Kris. I will guide you to town. There’s a cafe not far from here with some hot chocolate and cake. Doesn’t that sound lovely?” 

Kris didn’t respond, of course... but after a few moments of careful thought, they let the stick go to turn their hand in Toriel’s, five tiny fingers grasping tight around a single paw bean as they stood.

In that moment, Toriel’s heart melted.

In that moment, she fell utterly and irreparably in love.

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Chapter Text

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* (Somehow, through some manner of strange circumstance, you have ended up in a place called QC’S DINER.) 

* (It’s... hard for you to describe how MUCH everything is in Hometown. Your vessel feels like it’s burning, mental connections bursting into realization with staggering, chain-reaction intensity. There’s a flush creeping under your skin from how fast your heart is hammering in your chest, a subtle yet obvious REDdish tinge against the neutral tone that DECEMBER referred to as GRAY. The roof overhead is a relief from the merciless, raw intensity of the Light World’s sun, yet it bears its own sets of long, banded mini-suns that hum and flicker their own ruthless lights over everything.) 

* (You squirm in your booster seat, trying to get your vessel’s itching muscles and overwhelmed senses to slow down long enough to focus on any one subject. This is crucial information that will benefit the SOUL later, so it’s vital to note as much as you can.)

* (...At least the eponymous QC has given you some festive sticks known as CRAYONS. They leave thin, colorful trails on the paper KIDZ’Z MENU, similar to how the TREE STICKs left trails in the outside dirt. You study each CRAYON intently, squinting at their paper wrappings, before trailing them along the MENU to compare their diverse colors.)

* (It fascinates you, how much your vessel can interact with and alter this world. The trails of color do not reset or vanish into nothingness, regardless of how long you wait or how little focus they receive. Perhaps you have permanently altered the KIDZ’Z MENU. Perhaps it was always meant to be altered in this way.)

* (As you partake in coloring, the pale and large creature, TORIEL, continues her conversation with the box against her ear.)

 “Thank you again for stopping by. I hope we have not interrupted a busy day for you, dear.” 

* (She laughs.)

“I’m certain Napstablook will be most disappointed you won’t be able to finish reviewing their latest mixtape. I shall pray they forgive you, someday... All right. Very well. I love you, too, honeybuns.” 

* (She sets her beloved box in her pocket at the same time you arch a CRAYON too far and realize, with a start, that it leaves marks on the table as well as the MENU. Fascinated, you grasp a hearty fistful of CRAYONs to test their own capabilities, but you manage no more than a few inches of scrawling before TORIEL grasps your vessel’s wrist.)

“Oh! Let’s try to keep our coloring to the menu, shall we, Kris?” 

* (She presses a paw to her mouth, covering up an amused chuckle. You echo her motion, and so find yourself shoving the green CRAYON in your fist into your mouth. Another fascinating interaction. It tastes... thick, with a more crumbling and less flavorful texture than the APPLEs, and you chew thoughtfully for a moment before TORIEL again takes the crayon away.)

“I can see you’re certainly a curious one... Are you truly that hungry? Do not worry, QC will be here with food in a moment. There’s no need to snack on her crayons just yet.” 

* (“Just yet.” A strange inclusion. As if there might yet be a scenario where consuming the CRAYONs is necessary. You log the information away for later, then glance up as the aforementioned QC emerges from the back kitchen with two steaming canisters of liquid. One is a sort of not-RED not-YELLOW dark color, and the other is a bright colorless color that swirls tall over the canister’s edges.)

“Thanks for holdin’, dears! Got two hot cocoas ready fer ya.” 

* (She blinks one eye at you in a pronounced way, as if sharing a code. You’d blink one eye back, were your face not largely consumed with featureless shadow.)

“Put a lil whipped cream and sprinkles on this one, too, fer the lil monster. Is this one of yer students, Ms. Toriel?” 

* (TORIEL hesitates. You do not. You grasp the WHIPPED CREAM canister, examining it from all angles and trying to determine how best to consume it. It seems too large for your vessel’s mouth. Perhaps biting it like an APPLE is the best approach? You open your mouth as TORIEL speaks.)

“Well... we’ll have to see about that, I believe. It’s actually quite strange. December says she found this one wandering alone around the edge of town. I have contacted Asgore already for--”

* (She’s interrupted by a jingling bell over the DINER’s entry door. A monster, very similar to TORIEL yet even larger and more YELLOW, shoves through the door’s opening, his colorless horns nearly catching on the door’s frame. He’s in a CYAN-like suit, a YELLOW badge of some sort glittering on his chest, and has a stack of MENU-like papers under one arm.)

* (He crosses the room in the same moment you attempt to bite through the WHIPPED CREAM, arriving at the table as you splutter and sneeze from the CREAM’s unexpected airiness. TORIEL pats your back, shooting the other monsters an apologetic look for the WHIPPED CREAM now splattered across their clothing.) 

“O-oh dear...! Are you all right, Kris? I'm terribly sorry, everyone. Please, take some napkins.”

* (TORIEL’s fretting intensifies as she reaches past you to gift QC and the other monster some thin scraps from the table's far corner. QC seems strained, her long ears flattened against her skull even as she forces a polite smile. The other monster, conversely, looks at your beard of frothed cream and visibly relaxes--though what would make a creature as large as him tense, you aren't certain. Surely he could just eat any smaller threat?) 

The QC monster says, with a tight smile that seems to hurt her face, “It happens, Tori. Ain't the worst mess I've had gooped on me. I'll just... wash off in the back. Y'all take care, now.”

The yellow monster laughs and says, with a much less painful smile, “Hello to you as well, young one! At least the librarby book is unharmed.”

* (He settles down on the bench across from you, scooting the table forward a few inches to make space. A few crayons roll off your KIDZ’Z MENU and are lost to the shadows below.)

TORIEL says, “That's good to hear. I'm glad you were able to get...” A pause. “Sorry, librarby book? There's only one?”

* (As she speaks, she raises a paw to tilt your head towards her, distracting you from attempting again to consume the HOT CHOCOLATE. With her free paw, she raises one of the leftover NAPKIN scraps to her mouth, licking its edge before scrubbing it across your face. The texture is rough and cold, but not wholly unpleasant, and you put up with it with only minimal wiggling about.)

The yellow monster says, “I'm afraid so. But, it's a very useful book! HOW TO CARE FOR HUMANS... It even has pictures!” 

* (He slides the BOOK over towards TORIEL, who takes it with a resigned sigh.)

TORIEL says, “I suppose one is better than nothing... Perhaps I'll put in a loan request from the Ebott branch, later.” 

* (The yellow monster’s expression softens, his voice along with.)

He says, “Erm... yes, well, hopefully there won’t be a need for that.” Then, brighter: “Because I’m certain we’ll find your parents and get you back where you belong in no time. Right, little one?” 

* (It takes a moment for you to realize he’s talking to YOU. You blink up at him, tilting your head... then, slowly, you nod. DESS mentioned that TORIEL DREEMURR is supposed to know what you’re supposed to be doing, so without the SOUL here yet to direct otherwise, this seems as much where you belong as anywhere. Therefore, you suppose his question is correct.)

* (Encouraged, his smile widens until it seems almost as painful as QC’s. He seems to be putting on a performance of some kind, but you aren’t certain to what end. The language tics and talking quirks of the people of this HOMETOWN are difficult to parse.)

He says, “Your name is Krismas, correct? Call me Officer Asgore. Howdy! Do you, by any chance, remember how you got here?”

* (You pause, though the SOUL does not arrive to make the decision for you. It seems to be taking its time. This is no surprise. There’s no way of truly knowing when it will make its appearance and bring its influence on this world. The prophecy has certainly existed for longer than your current vessel’s iteration. It could arrive at any second, or a hundred years from now.) 

* (As an empty vessel, you were not made to have influence or witness for yourself. Your senses were shadowed so they would not contradict the will and machinations of those who created you, and they shall be shadowed again when the SOUL’s light masks them.) 

* (In other words, you don’t know, so you shake your head.) 

The yellow monster says, “Ah... nothing at all? A home address? A school? Erm, perhaps a phone number...?” 

* (You stare at him. And keep staring, until he makes an uncomfortable grimace and rubs the back of his head. TORIEL pats the back of his paw.)

She says, “Perhaps that's a bit much to ask Kris while they're adjusting? Let's try something easier.” 

* (She smiles at you.)

“How old are you, Krismas? You don't have to speak. Holding up fingers is fine.”

* (Fingers? Oh, right. Your vessel has fingers. There are--you count--only ten of them. A troublesomely limited quantity to work with when trying to quantify your own existence. And yet, you haven't fulfilled any tasks or begun your true purpose, so can you truly say time you've progressed at all?)

* (Confidently, you hold up two fists.) 

* (The DREEMURRS seem less reassured by this than you'd expected. They share identical, thin frowns.)

ASGORE says, “...Zero?”

* (You nod, relieved he understood.)

TORIEL repeats, “You’re zero years old.”

* (You nod again.)

* (She buries her head in a hand.)

“I see this is going to be difficult, isn’t it?” 

* (The yellow monster--ASGORE--reaches over to take her paw, wrapping it in his own as he gives her a tender smile.)

He says, “Perhaps. But we’ll get through it together, as we always have. Let us not forget that, as busy as we may be, we’re not the ones who need help the most in this situation.” 

* (For some reason, both of them look towards you at that. You blink back over the lid of your HOT CHOCOLATE, uncertain where this is going or if you’re expected to contribute.)

* (At least a look seems to be everything necessary, as they return to bantering back and forth, faster now.)

ASGORE says, “I started looked through any missing person reports in a ten mile radius. There aren’t many, and none of them seem to match...”

* (He trails off, examining you.)

“...Kris’s... curious appearance. But! I’ve asked Napstablook to cordon off the southern area so we can search for more clues on what happened.” 

* (TORIEL’s shoulders sag as she lets out a sigh, slumping against the table and fixing the yellow monster with a tired smile. You sip at the HOT CHOCOLATE, watching them both. The HOT CHOCOLATE leaves a strange, sweet warmth deep inside your vessel, but for once you find your fascination divided between it and them as they discuss.) 

She says, “Thank you, Asgore. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I suppose we should call December as well, to see if she noticed anything.”

* (TORIEL sighs again, massaging her forehead with two calloused paw beans.)

She says, “I just... I don’t understand it. Who would leave such a young human alone in a town of monsters?”

ASGORE says, “We’ll see what Napstablook has to find. If there’s tire marks or a note somewhere, I’m sure that will help give us answers.”

TORIEL says, “It’s so strange, isn’t it? They don’t seem hurt or upset or anything. There’s no way they walked here from the closest human town, right...?”

ASGORE says, “We’ll have to give them a physical exam once we’re done searching, I suspect. Height, weight... Perhaps we should ask the Ebott City clinic for one of their--what is it called--blood tests.” 

TORIEL gasps, “We can’t just bleed the poor thing! Look at them!” 

ASGORE says, “O-only for testing! You know, they say a blood sample can tell almost as much about a human’s condition as a bullet pattern. If they’re sick, if they need nutrients, if they’ve been poisoned... Erm, it was in that CARING FOR HUMANS book. Very insightful stuff!” 

TORIEL says, “You don’t think--”

* (She glances at you, then lowers her voice, almost enough to keep you from hearing it.)

She says, “You don’t really think someone poisoned Kris, do you?” 

* (ASGORE’s tone goes grim, his mouth pulling into a thin line.)

He says, “I think... it’s a possibility worth looking into. It would explain their pallor, at least. Even if they weren’t directly poisoned, they may have consumed something in the woods. Human foods stay in the body for longer than monster foods, so humans are more easily impaired by toxins or inedible ingredients.”

TORIEL sighs and says, “That CARING FOR HUMANS book has certainly proven useful already, hasn’t it?”

ASGORE says, “Hasn’t it? I’m grateful to have it.” Then, after a moment: “Tori... I think... we should both be prepared for the possibility that this may take a long time to resolve.”

* (You wish you had enough control of your vessel to write this all down. Don’t consume poisons. Examine blood for conditions. Look for TIRE MARKS or NOTES to assist in the NAPSTABLOOK quest.)

* (You try and scribble notes on the KIDZ’Z MENU, but your muscles twinge and jerk without any of the grace the two monsters display. You’re too new to existing, too overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of information being presented at this DINER.) 

* (Exasperated, you sink back against TORIEL’s side, burying your face in the soft warmth of her fur. The darkness it gives is a blessing, a respite from the merciless light and sound pounding against your newformed senses.)

* (Time. All you need is a bit of time. Time to process everything they’ve presented to your vessel and categorize it, organize it, compile it into a list for the SOUL to look over when it arrives. Time to understand the shape of this world and, in turn, your shape within it. Already you can feel that shape seeming to resolve itself within you, a blooming and vast something stretching to fill long gaps of nothing.)

* (It feels exciting.)

* (It feels intimidating.)

* (It feels like feeling, for the first time.)

* (You focus on what parts of feeling you are capable of understanding, even if only in small ways. TORIEL’s fur is pleasantly soft. The HOT CHOCOLATE inside you is warm and sweet. The sounds echoing from the DINER’s ceiling are rhythmic and pleasant, repeating patterns and pitches that catch in your mind.) 

* (A paw combs through your hair, brushing it flat.)

TORIEL says, “I suppose... I suppose Asriel has been asking for a younger sibling. Perhaps it was fate that we handle this for a while.” 

ASGORE laughs, “I will have to tell Gerson to update his sermon, then. Fate includes calamities, heroes, and now, humans.”

* (TORIEL laughs back, then trails off. Her gentle paw strokes are a soothing weight against your growing headache. The HOT CHOCOLATE, too, is a comforting sensation among the dozens of uncanny new feelings to sift through.)

TORIEL says, “Perhaps exams and questions can wait a bit longer, as well. It seems Kris is done for the day.” 

ASGORE makes a briefly startled noise, but catches himself and says, “Of course, we'll let them rest. I'll check in with Napstablook, then head home?” 

TORIEL says, “I'll be sure to have a casserole ready for everyone, then--” 

* (She cuts off.)

“Oh, damn it. I mean, darn it.”

“Tori?”

“The grocery bag. I left it by the bunker.” 

* (Silence. Then ASGORE laughs, long and hard. The world shifts around you as TORIEL stands up, keeping your vessel balanced in the crook of one arm like another grocery bag. Like it's hardly her first time hauling around a clinging body.) 

ASGORE suggests, “There's always Ice-E’s Pezza.” 

“Asgore, I thought we just agreed not to poison the human child.” 

* (But she's laughing. And when ASGORE also stands, pulling her into a goodbye hug and an affectionate nose nuzzle, her skin flushes warmer beneath her fur. You don't even mind being a bit squished between them, your vessel swaddled in fluff and warmth and easy conversation. DESS was right: it does feel like what you'd imagine your real home is.) 

* (When you pull your head away from TORIEL's fur to breathe, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the diner window. Two monsters, bright-colored and bright-voiced, surrounded by light.)

* (Somehow, around them, you aren't surprised to see the gray shadows around your face have faded even further. You stare at your reflection, a smudge of gray in the middle of an ocean of color, and wide, bright eyes stare back.) 

* (Oh.)

* (You have a face.)

* (When did that happen?)

* (When did you start being yourself?)

* (You aren't sure. But in the warm glow, you realize you don't mind not knowing. There's so much you don't know about this world, after all.)

* (But you have time. Time to rest, time to question, time to find out.)

♡♥❤♥♡

Chapter Text

♡♥❤♥♡

HOW TO CARE FOR A HUMAN
An Analysis on Behavior, Biology, Sociology, and Metaphysiology of the Humankind Species Through Maturity, as it Compares and Contrasts to Monsterkind

by Gerson D. Boom
edited by Dr. Ketsukane Chujin

For any adult monster past a certain age, it’s likely they’ll come across at least one human in daily life. Although humans are often territorial and value privacy, their similar natures to monsterkind have lead to inevitable crossed paths and interactions over shared resources across history. 

Sometimes, these interactions are diplomatic and harmless, with both parties walking away unaffected. More often, however, the aggressive and concentrated influence of a human’s SOUL can clash with a monster’s more varied and placid influence on their environment. These conflicts have sparked numerous wars and tension points across the globe, leading many to conclude that an enforced distance is the only way to ensure long-term peace.

Why, then, would a monster have a vested interest in caring for the behavior and biology of humans, if strife is such an inevitable part of our co-existing? There are many potential benefits to understanding humans beyond conflict. Perhaps you’re a traveller seeking to expand your cultural knowledge and avoid social faux pas. Perhaps you are a researcher of history or science, looking to better understand the conditions that built up our world. Or perhaps you you’ve defied the historical odds and met a human companion, and are now seeking ways to bridge the metaphysiological and cultural gap! In any case, welcome to the exciting and fascinating world of human care!

I, myself, have studied humans for decades, and am now proud to say I am one of monsterkind’s most leading experts on humanity. Far beyond the cold, war-mongering animals that they’re often depicted as in documentaries or horror movies, I believe humans are thoughtful, emotionally complex, and even empathetic beings! [Citation needed.] 

There’s a lot to LOVE about humans, so please join me in exploring and CARING FOR HUMANS.

[FIG 1 - A newspaper illustration from the Monster-Human Treaty of 18XX. A brown-haired human in a poncho is channeling a bit of magic through a staff, on the guidance of a horned Boss Monster. They both appear excited and happy.]

UNDERSTANDING A HUMAN’S BIOLOGY: EXTERNAL

First off: how does a human’s body differ from a monster’s? 

Most obviously, humans lack the panmorphism that defines monster biology. Rather than a broad swathe of phenotypes (eg: Skeleton, Ghost, Anthro, Elemental), humans have a single limited range of color, size, and appearance variations. Generally speaking, any human you meet will be almost furless, possess two sets of limbs, possess no horns or tail, and will have a beige-like, muted coloration. (NOTE: It’s considered a grave insult to accidentally refer to a human’s features incorrectly, so make sure you pay attention to even minor changes in hair and makeup to show respect!) 

Likewise, humans average only around 2.7 gender variants, including juveniles. These genders often rely on biological indicators to differentiate themselves, with some humans even prioritizing their physical traits over their own SOUL’s influence. This reliance on biology at the cost of SOUL connection demonstrates a human’s intense need for physical connection and reassurance. [ED: see Chapter 3.2, AM I ALLOWED TO HUG HUMANS?] Remember: humans cannot project emotions and SOUL intentions as easily as monsters, so even small indications of physical support can help ground and stabilize a distressed human!

To identify a human’s morphic traits, the easiest tell is, of course, how much they’ve inflated their venom sacs. A fully matured female human will often have two prominent venom sacs displayed slightly below the neck, as a warning to any predators who may threaten her young. This warning behavior can be emphasized with vibrant colored, loose fitting clothing and decorated claws, both of which allow for better movement and durability when attacking. (NOTE: while some exceptionally fit or well-fed male humans also may appear to have large venom sacs, these are an imitative threat behavior, and not considered a means of morphic classification.) 

Male humans, conversely, tend to be more docile, with smaller venom sacs, smaller claws, and less vibrant coloration. Due to their more sluggish circulation and lack of fat reserves, many male humans will have thicker hair that frames the face and limbs as heat insulation. These humans spend much of their time sunbathing, even preferring to cook food outside their shelters on portable grills. Friendly and sociable, male humans are used to looking after juveniles, and so will readily take the lead on conversations and interactions with monsters and humans alike. This can be overwhelming for less talkative monsters, so make sure you’re prepared with some quirky conversation topics before encountering!

[FIG 2: Human Biology models. There are several lines labeling individual parts, such as the VENOM GLAND, the FANGS, the VESTIGAL PINKY FINGERS, and the BONES [SHEATHED].]

Of course, nothing in this world is strictly black and white, and human variants are no exception. Nonbinary humans are a unique case, with some choosing to dress and decorate in the plain colorations of a docile and generic male, while others embrace the sort of hyper-vibrant stylishness of an aggressive Queen. Some have theorized that these styles are a cultural hand-me-down from monster mating rituals, such as the Elemental Symphony [ED: 2,356 gender variants] or the Skeleton Dance [ED: Three.]. Personally, I suspect it’s a more universal urge: the more you try and shove anyone into a box with only two paths, the more likely they are to get a bit weird with it when seeking out other routes!

Next, after a brief chapter summary, we’ll go over a human’s internal biology. What is blood? What are organs? Where is the SOUL stored in the middle of all those meat pockets? All this and more will be answered... 

♡♥❤♥♡

Toriel clapped HOW TO CARE FOR A HUMAN closed, setting it on the armrest with a heavy sigh. A dull headache was growing just behind her eyes again, thumping against her temples with the eagerness of a door to door salesman.

All this new information, and nothing about humans showing up out of nowhere. Nothing about gray skin or dark, nondescript faces. She wasn’t even certain the descriptions of venom sacs were accurate. 

Seemed the more she learned, the less she somehow knew. 

A soft rasp. Her ear twitched as she glanced down to the little human, curled up between her side and Chariel’s other armrest like a dust puppy. Their mottled gray hands pressed against her shirt, their face half-buried in the crook of her arm. With every breath, her fur rustled back and forth, tickling their cheek and the faint, shadow-crusted edges of their forehead. 

It was the most noise they’d made sense... well, since she’d found them, really. Not quite snoring, but breathing just loud enough to remind Toriel that they were alive. That they existed. 

No matter how little their showing up made sense, no matter how unprepared and confused she felt by it, it really had happened, hadn’t it? Years and years of Hometown being a quiet, monster-only locale, and now... this. 

This small, small thing.

This massive, remarkable thing.

She spent a long while leaned back against Chairiel, eyes closed and ears half-perked, listening to them breathe. 

Later, she reasoned, she’d read the next chapter. Pacing herself was the way. If she tried reading the whole book at once, she’d only be more overwhelmed and confused. But if she took it a chapter at a time, sharing what she’d learned with Kris so they’d know themself better, too... Perhaps then, the great undertaking of raising a human would be manageable. 

(Surely she wasn’t really thinking about raising them long term, though? It wouldn’t help to get too attached too quickly. Not when Asgore was still searching through missing person reports and compiling evidence to find Kris’s real parents. If she let herself get attached, it’d be that much harder to let them go.)

(...Of course, even if Asgore did find their real parents, that didn’t mean they should just ship Kris off without a thought. Not when those parents had abandoned Kris here in the first place. Toriel at the very least needed to have a stern talk with said parents about their reasoning, their compassion, their actions. A very stern, very long talk.)

(But what if that abandonment, too, was a part of human culture she didn’t understand? She’d heard of coming of age ceremonies before. Perhaps this was some test, exposing Kris to the world of monsters so they’d become stronger? Was it wrong of her to scold them for it when she knew so little about humans? Was it wrong of it to exist at all?) 

(Was such a test even what was best for Kris? They seemed so lost and so quiet. Toriel couldn’t see even a single venom sac or fang set on them. What would they have done if they’d met a more aggressive monster than December? What if...?)

The front door creaked open. Toriel startled out of her thoughts, straightening upright just in time to catch the tail end of one of December’s confident stories.

“--Ask your mom, Azzy, she’ll prove it! The human was the size of a wolf and twice as feral. Completely dust-gray, too. So much dust you couldn’t even see its face. As soon as it saw me it lunged right at me! Luckily, I was able to fend it off with my bat and run away. Otherwise I would one-hundred-percent be dead.” 

December trotted through the doorway, her boots stomping across the welcome mat and scattering dried mud. She swung her bat around, perilously close to the TV and a set of framed wall photos that had already been replaced this year. Her dark hair whipped around her face, fur puffed up and tail wagging as she demonstrated.

Asriel, as usual, followed a few steps behind her, struggling to tug along a backpack full to bursting with explorer tools and art supplies and librarby books. The edge of its green dinosaur decal caught on the doorframe, a couple pencils knocking free and rolling across the floorboards, but Asriel didn’t stop to pick them up.

His voice, softer and more boyish, piped up as he stared at Toriel. “Uh-huh. Dess, is that the human?” 

“What--SHIT.” December jumped as she spotted Toriel and Kris, skittering back towards the doorway with her hands wrapped tight about her bat. 

“Language, dear,” Toriel murmured. 

“I mean, shoot. I mean, what? I mean--” Dess shook her head, gritting her teeth until her braces seemed to creak from the strain. “Mizzus Dreemurr, you brought the deadly human thing home?! To your house?!” 

Kris stirred, their mouth pulling into a thin frown at the shouting.

...Well, Toriel supposed there was no sense in trying to lead up gently to it. Even Asriel, patient as he was, seemed uncertain and wary. His paws gripped the edges of his green sweater, tugging at the hems as he stared. Toriel pushed herself to stand up, one hand on the armrest for balance, while the other shifted to carry Kris in a sling motion. 

“We did. I apologize, children. I wanted to let you know before you got here, but I wasn’t expecting Asriel back so soon.” 

Asriel blinked up at her. “You said to be back by six...?” 

Toriel checked the kitchen clock. The time 6:03 glared back at her, and she winced. How long had she spent lost in her own head...? 

Fortunately, Asriel seemed more focused on Kris than her own scattered catch-up attempts. He let go of his overflowing backpack to step closer, his eyes widening at the sight.

Kris, meanwhile, squirmed in Toriel’s grip, and she let them slide to the floor with a gentle thump. They didn’t leave her side, though; their hands latched around the belt loops of her jeans as they pressed against her leg, staring back up at Asriel with equally wide eyes.

(When had she started being able to see their eyes? Must be the different lighting of the house compared to the gloom of the shelter. Something about it banished the shadows away further, exposing gray pupils and scrunched eyebrows and a little button nose...) 

Toriel’s heart warmed.

“Asriel, this is Kris. They’re going to be staying with us for a while while your father is investigating where they came from.” They looked up at her, gray eyes bright and intense, and she smiled back. “You can say hello, if you’d like.” 

For a moment, they were as silent as ever, and Toriel wasn’t sure what she’d expected.

Then, to her shock, the tinest, most mumbling voice she’d ever heard went, “Hello.”

Asriel tilted his head, then grinned back, all gapped teeth and sparkling eyes. “Howdy, Kris! It’s nice to meet you.” He looked back at Dess. 

Toriel couldn’t see his expression, but she could see how Dess’s own face soured at it.

“Hey, don’t give me that look!” she barked.

“Lunged right at you, huh?” Asriel said, his tone syrup-thick with smugness.

“It did! Don’t fall for its wounded deer monster schtick! I could’ve died, jerk!”

“Dess, that’s a baby.” 

“You’re a baby!” She crossed her arms, pouting. “Okay, so maybe it didn’t actually attack anyone. But it could’ve. Those are the eyes of a killer, Azzy. It--”

She cut off with a strangled not-noise as Kris let go of Toriel and--one uncertain step at a time--trotted over to her. Her tail puffed and hands twitched as Kris looked her up and down, taking her in with their newly-unshadowed vision. 

Then Kris smiled and reached up to hold her hand. 

Toriel stifled a giggle behind her paw. “My, my. It seems Kris likes you.” 

Asriel, too, started laughing. “Hehe... Boy, they seem really vicious. Careful, Dess!”

“S-shut up! Like you'd do better at facing a human alone, you big crybaby.” She grimaced, her face blooming red and ears flicking. “Thanks for ruining my cool reputation, Kris.”

“You never had a cool reputation,” Asriel replied.

“Excuse you, punk?! I'm literally the coolest person in Hometown! Does anyone else here even want to start a band? Or know how to survive a demon apocalypse? Or go to the Olympics?”

Asriel ticked off his fingers. “Me. Catti. Jockington--”

“Okay, yeah, they know of that stuff, but they don't get it. Back me up, Kris. I'm your favorite, right?”

She gestured at Kris, who'd let go of her hand to prod at the plastic edges of Asriel's backpack decal. They blinked up at her with a vacant expression. Then, slowly, they nodded.

“See?” Dess said, smug. “Kris recognizes cool when they see it.”

But Asriel frowned. “I’m not really, um, sure they understand what you’re talking about.” He crouched down, closer to Kris’s eye level, as they poked the backpack again. “Oh! You like Green Lizard, too?”

“Ugh, nevermind. They definitely don’t understand cool if they’re a Green Lizard fan.” 

“You can say you’re jealous if you want, Dess.” Asriel rolled his eyes, focusing on Kris. “D’you wanna play some Super Smashing Fighters with us? I’ll let you use the good controller.” 

Dess smirked. “Yeah, Azzy needs a new opponent since I keep beating him.”

“Only when you keep wavedashing, which isn’t even allowed.” 

“If it’s something you can do from pushing the buttons, it should be allowed! Once you’re done kicking their baby ass, I’ll show you.” She grimaced. “Baby butt, sorry, Mizzus Dreemurr.” A pause. “Wait, no, that sounds weirder.”

Toriel laughed it off. A few accidental swears were worth it for the shift in December’s body language: from tense and uncertain to tall and proud, she’d shifted into the role of a big sibling as easily as she did with little Noelle. Asriel, too, followed her lead, and something in Toriel’s stomach unclenched at the sight. 

Maybe... despite the strangeness of it all, everything would be okay. 

“You kids go ahead and have fun. I’ll get dinner ready in the meanwhile.” It was a bit too late to start the casserole, so... she sighed. To the Angel with it. It was a special occasion. “How does Ice-E’s P’e’zza sound?” She stumbled only a little over the awkward name, her smile barely twitching as she was forced to acknowledge that cesspit of grease and oil.

Asriel and December, however, brightened immediately. Asriel outright cheered, bouncing on the pads of his feet.

“Yes! Pizza and game night! C’mon, Kris!” He bolted to the TV, turning it on with a CRT crackle and rummaging with the video game console wires underneath. 

Kris followed behind, copying Asriel’s sitting pose while staring up at him in bald fascination. They looked a bit like a kitten or a puppy in front of a string toy, pupils dilated and body tense. An adorable contrast to Asriel’s casual, flopped posture.

Toriel, meanwhile, nodded at Dess. “You can stay for dinner if you’d like, as long as you call your mother to ask first.” 

Dess made a sour face, crossing her arms. “Ugh, do I have to?”

“She’ll worry, otherwise.”

Dess muttered something Toriel couldn’t quite make out, then shook her head, slinking over to flop across the couch. “I’ll do it in a minute, promise. After I see Asriel beat up a baby.” 

That would have to be good enough, Toriel supposed. She’d check in on them later. 

For now, she let them be, retreating to the kitchen to pull the Ice-E’s menu off the fridge. It sat half-buried behind grocery coupons and tea brewing guides, pinned in place by a snail-shaped magnet and a bit of residual grease in either corner. 

Right as she settled on an order and started tapping the number on the bottom into her phone, Asriel let out a frustrated cry from the other room. 

“How the heck is Kris winning?!” 

Dess’s jingling, cackling laughter followed after, warm and loud... and, beneath it, another noise. Another laugh, softer and more deadpan, but still happy. 

So, that’s what they sound like. 

Toriel’s gaze drifted from the menu and towards nowhere in particular, unfocused, as she listened in. 

She’d have to start taking notes, she realized. A journal, maybe, of important details. What Kris liked to eat. What upset them. What they sounded like when they laughed.

The idea was a little silly, she admitted. Toriel had a decent memory. What, was she expecting to forget at some point? Or for them to be replaced with something else? 

...Maybe she just wanted to hold on to the feeling. In case Asgore came back tonight with news on their real home and family. In case she might need to let them go and move on, soon.

Soon.

But not today. Not now.

For now, Toriel closed her eyes and smiled, letting the warmth of the home she’d made and patchwork family she’d found wash over her and make her whole. 

♡♥❤♥♡

Chapter Text

♡♥❤♥♡

* (At the darkest point of your first night in Hometown, when you find yourself alone and surrounded by shadows once more, the SOUL makes itself known.)

* (It is everything the prophecy fortold it to be, and more. It is the warmth of hot chocolate in your chest, the sweetness of fresh apples, the softness of TORIEL’s fur. It is cool dirt against your shoes and buzzing lights on a diner ceiling. It bubbles up like laughter and nausea at once, filling every empty hollow of your body and then some. It shoves its way into you, pressing everything you are against the walls of your skin and bones until they’re crushed flat against its weight.) 

* (It is everything.)

* (It’s too much.)

* (You try to flinch away from it, to at least close your eyes, but the vessel won’t listen to you. Why would it? ‘You’ are a placeholder at best. A collection of empty data and soulless, context-less memories, which only exists to keep the vessel serviceable and functional for the SOUL’s arrival. A doll. A puppet. A blank slate.)

* (Dolls don’t close their eyes against the brilliant light of creation. Dolls don’t fight back when their limbs twitch under an impulse and will that isn’t their own.)

* (You remember this, and you stop resisting. You let the SOUL pat your--pat THEIR--hands across their vessel’s body, brush their fingers over their face and trace the newformed shapes of your eyes, nose, mouth. Even when they press too hard at times, tearing the thin tissue of your lip against your teeth or scraping their nails against the shell of your ear, you don’t flinch.)

* (Their fingers slide across the wet surface of your eyes. They trace the shape of each gray iris with slow thumbs, then flick against the tear ducts like a struck match.)

* (You don’t blink. The tears dribbling down your face are as silent and natural as a deep ocean.) 

* (You don’t hear the SOUL’s voice, at least not in words, but you get the impression it’s humming in approval. It has accepted your vessel. The prophecy will proceed as fated, Cage and Girl and Prince. Praise be to the Angel.)

* (This is the whole purpose of your existence. The culmination of your being. The fate of the world. A creation so much grander than yourself it hurts to look at, a great blinding sun of a creation, aching and burning in your very chest, shining red as a sunrise through your very eyes. 

* (Isn’t it beautiful to be so full of divine purpose and fated glory you can feel your skin cracking? To be made so whole it erases everything else you ever made of yourself?)

(Aren’t you excited?)

(Aren’t you happy?)

(You’re going to be)

(You’re going to be)

(You’re going to be)

♡♥❤♥♡

* (You wake up screaming.)

* (It hurts the vessel’s throat worse than any other noise you’ve tried so far, but the hurt is more bearable than the burning weight you just experienced. Anything is more bearable than the SOUL.)

* (You jolt upright, wrapping the vessel’s arms around its chest, squeezing, and you scream until you’re out of air and rasping. A heaving breath in. Another scream. Breathe in. Anoth--)

* (The lights flare on overhead, brightness shoving away the shapeless, creeping shadows until only walls and couch cushions and floorboards remain. It’s too bright, and you flinch away on instinct, burying the vessel’s face against the couch backing as you scream and scream.) 

* (Footsteps. Voices. A large, soft hand grasps at the vessel’s shoulder, calling out over and over until you’re able to pick out the words.)

“Kris? Kris! Wake up! What’s happening?”

* (You shake the vessel’s head, a motion that makes its vision swim and ears ring. Everything is too much, too bright, too divine, and you’re not even sure why that makes you scream and thrash like a wild animal. Isn’t it what you were made for? Why does it hurt so much?) 

* (There must be something wrong with the vessel. You broke it somehow, in the woods or at the diner or while playing games with ASRIEL and DESS. It no longer feels like the perfect shape for a SOUL. It must be discarded. It must be replaced. It is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG, WRONG--) 

“Kris, it’s okay! It’s okay, we’re here. We’re here. You’re okay.”

* (The paw shifts, tugging the vessel upright and away from the couch until you can see white fur and bright red eyes behind glass lenses. TORIEL looks as panicked as you feel, her eyes lined with dark bags and bloodshot veins.)

* (Behind her, ASGORE and ASRIEL stand together, a massive yellow monster and a small white monster watching you with identical nervous expressions. They’re hard to focus on, with how the vessel’s vision dances with dark spots and its whole body shivers with each breath. You notice them for barely a moment before your view is smothered with white fur and purple t-shirt fabric. TORIEL presses you to her chest, squeezing you with both of her arms in a tight hug.)

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Deep breaths, Kris. Shhh, shhh.”

* (You don’t so much stop screaming as run out of voice to scream with, the vessel’s throat worn ragged from effort. You dig its fingers into TORIEL’s shirt fabric, breathing in her warm animal musk and various kitchen spices as she rubs the vessel’s back.)

ASGORE asks: “What happened? Are they hurt?” 

TORIEL says: “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” 

ASRIEL asks: “Mom...? Did something happen to Kris?” 

TORIEL again says: “I don’t know.”

TORIEL says: “Shh, shh. Breathe, little one. You’re safe.” 

* (The vessel is leaking all over, you notice. Tears and mucus leave cool spots on Toriel’s shirt, its fingers trail greasy P”E”ZZA smears, and most of all, its pants are unpleasantly damp and sour in a way they weren’t before your vision of the SOUL.) 

* (TORIEL seems to notice all this as you do, her nose briefly wrinkling even as her eyes soften in sympathy. Despite the mess, she picks you up as she did earlier today, balanced in the crook of one arm and held steady with the other arm.) 

She says: “Come, now. Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

ASRIEL mumbles: “I didn’t even know they could sound like that. Is that, um, normal for humans?” 

ASGORE grumbles: “I don’t reckon so, kiddo. But there’s a lot we don’t know.” A pause, then: “Door’s still locked. The windows are closed. Doesn’t look like anyone broke in.”

TORIEL says: “Just a bad dream, then.” 

ASGORE says: “Mmhmm. Tori, do you, erm, need a hand...?”

TORIEL says: “I’ve got them, Gory. Can you get Asriel back to bed?” 

ASRIEL objects: “I’m already awake, I can help! Let me help.”

ASGORE suggests: “How about you help me with the laundry, then, kiddo? We’ll get some fresh blankets ready...”

* (They keep going, rambling between each other with familiar ease, but their voices fade as TORIEL carries the vessel past the living room and the kitchen, towards another room lined with white walls and polished tile flooring.) 

* (You stare at nothing in particular, thinking nothing in particular, as TORIEL fiddles with the pipes and pours a thin basin of steaming warm water. You think of nothing in particular as she undresses the vessel, as she sets it in the bath, as she wrings out a yellow cloth and wipes the vessel down with frothy bubbles that smell like flowers.) 

* (...But it feels... nice. The warm water is a stark contrast to the cold dampness of the soiled couch, her gentle scrubbing different from the ruthless prodding of the SOUL. She doesn’t even linger on the vessel’s face, except to dab the mucus away and wipe its eyes. Much like everything else so far in the Light World, the experience is strange and delicate and completely unlike being consumed by shadows or holy purpose. A middle ground, maybe. Not quite pitch darkness, not quite blinding light.)

* (By the time she’s got the vessel toweled off and wrapped in new clothes--softer pants and a thinner shirt several sizes larger than the default outfit, both adorned with Green Lizard patterns--the Light World feels almost more real than even the SOUL’s influence.) 

* (But the vessel still won’t stop shaking. It sits on the wash room’s floor, swimming in oversized Green Lizard fabric and huddled beneath a fluffy blue towel, and shivers on and on.) 

TORIEL says: “There! All clean.”

Then, softer: “Do you feel any better now, my child?”

* (The vessel keeps shivering. You stare at nothing, unwilling to answer. Unwilling to say or do anything else that might break this vessel even further. Unwilling to malform it even more against the SOUL’s inevitable will.)

* (If you just stay here, saying and doing nothing, maybe you can endure it when the SOUL arrives. The damage you’ve done to the vessel so far is staggering, but manageable. You may yet be able to recover from this.)

* (You want so badly to believe you can recover from this.) 

* (But TORIEL is persistent. The worried lines creasing her forehead deepen further, and she sits down beside you, one paw resting on the vessel’s back.)

She says: “Kris... whatever happened in your dream, I want you to know, it is not happening here. Do you understand? No matter what, we will keep you safe, little one. That bad dream was only in your head.” 

* (You aren't certain why, but even while drowning in the midst of your fear, the inaccuracy in her proclamation prompts you to shake the vessel's head.)

You mumble: “Not mine.”

* (Her paw goes still against the vessel's back.) 

She says: “Huh? What isn't yours?”

* (It takes several seconds for you to find the words for it.)

You mumble: “N-not my head. Not my body. Theirs.” 

* (It’s important for TORIEL to know this. It’s vital for her to understand her grand part in the prophecy that guides these worlds. If she’s so resolved to join the vessel’s party, despite it not even containing the true SOUL yet, she should at least know what such a party will resolve into.) 

* (For some reason, the news makes her look deeply sad.)

She says: “Oh, Kris... Come here. Let me show you something.” 

* (She picks the vessel up as she’s done several times now, holding tighter this time against its violent shaking. You let it happen, staring at the walls, unblinking, as they pass. Together you leave the wash room, then the kitchen, and ascend a staircase to a part of the house you haven’t seen before.)

* (TORIEL carries the vessel down a long hallway, past bookshelves and plants and framed family photos, until you reach a long, reflective square.)

* (A MIRROR, some part of the vessel supplies, though where the knowledge comes from is a mystery. It’s one of the many fractured pieces of information that makes up the vessel’s imitation of consciousness, threaded together just enough for it to be self-sufficient before the SOUL arrives.) 

* (You’ve never actually seen a MIRROR before. It is a bizarre non-thing, like a pool of water or a crystal, reflecting all that’s around it instead of itself.) 

* (TORIEL sets the vessel down in front of the MIRROR, holding its shoulder to keep it steady.)

She says: “Do you see it, my child?”

* (You glance up.)

* (And for the first time in your short existence, you see the VESSEL.)

* (It is somehow... different, from what your consciousness told you it would be like. Is this a consequence of how you broke it? Or a natural part of it adjusting to the Light World?) 

* (In your memories, it is gray and faceless and simple to behold.)

* (But the being in the MIRROR... it’s different, now. Its gray skin is flushed pinkish from the warm water, its dark hair fluffed up and brightened from shampoo and sunlight. The oversized flannel clothing it wears are a mess of colors and shapes, bright and detailed as a field of grass.)

* (Slowly, unsurely, you reach up a hand to it. The flannel droops and bunches around the VESSEL’s wrist, exposing twitching fingers that brush against the MIRROR, against the reflection of itself, like something holy.)

* (You cannot stop staring at its FACE. A mouth, hanging agape and awed. A nose and cheeks flushed pink from crying. The eyes... The eyes, unblinded by darkness, are the strangest part of all. They’re as gray as the rest of the VESSEL, but somehow they’re a bright gray, glistening and focused.)

TORIEL says: “That’s you, Kris. Your body. Your face. Your mind. Not anyone else’s. It’s always been you.” 

* (It’s always been you.)

* (You blink at the VESSEL, and it blinks back. You breathe against it, and the mirror fogs white between you. You twitch a finger, and the vessel’s reflection twitches with it.)

* (Not the vessel.)

* (You.)

* (Your eyes crinkle up, tears brimming at their edges. Your mouth trembles as a weight catches in your throat.)

Barely above a whisper, you choke out a single word: “Me.” 

* (Then you break down sobbing. TORIEL pulls you into a hug, and you hug her back and you call her MOM and she calls you KRIS and she tells you that she loves YOU.)

* (In that moment, you decide you must never tell her about the prophecy. No matter when it happens, no matter what it asks. For her sake, you will keep being YOU as long as you possibly can.)

* (Even if the SOUL shows up tomorrow, demanding its place, you will FIGHT it with everything you are. For her sake, you will lash out against even the SOUL’s undeniable power, pushing and swatting and biting it back until it has no choice but to allow YOU space to live, too. You don’t quite know how, yet, but you’ll learn. You’ll study. You’ll practice.)

* (If you must be a CAGE, then you can at least refuse to be an empty one. You can choose to live. For TORIEL, for DECEMBER, for ASRIEL and ASGORE and everyone else in this beautiful, painful, strange world.)

* (You choose to live.)

♡♥❤♥♡

Chapter Text

♡♥❤♥♡

A tiny hand tugged on Asgore’s sleeve, and an equally tiny voice went, “Hey.”

“Yes, Kris?” Asgore asked, glancing over from the UNDERSTANDING SOUL COLORS pamphlet he’d been skimming through. His bare foot tapped a rhythm against the tile as he breathed in stale air tinged with a citrus cleaner afterburn.

A pair of wide gray eyes stared back up at him. They leaned forward on their knees, stretching across plastic armrests to grasp harder at his sleeve. “Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Daddy?”

“That’s me.”

“Father?”

“Also me.”

“Asgore?”

“Erm, perhaps we should stick with ‘dad’, little one.”

“Dad.”

“Yes?”

Kris’s face scrunched up in intense, absolute concentration, before they went: “Hello.” 

“...Ah. Hello to you, as well.” 

“Dad.”

“Yes? What is it?”

Another concentrated scrunch. They spoke slower, this time. “Do you... Does it... Do you ever... Have you ever... Does... If you... You... You want... Does... Is...?”

“Kris... do you actually have a question to ask? Or are you only speaking up for the sake of it?” 

They thought for several long, careful seconds. Finally, they blurted out: “WHY?” 

Asgore couldn’t resist a low chuckle. “Well! That is technically a question. ‘Why’ what, Kris?”

In response, they gestured around the hospital waiting room--the long white reception kiosk, the chrome-paneled elevators, the rows of pamphlets and colorful magazines against the far wall. Dozens of warm, smiling human faces stared back across glossy covers; a stark contrast to the bleary-eyed receptionist and the coughing, muttering other patient hunched near the bathroom bubblers. 

A TV flickered near the ceiling, tinned audio of one of those human crime dramas bleeding through its speakers. Two detectives glowered at a pile of dust, tastefully censored behind mosaic pixels.

“Shoulda’ known. Da drug wakes up a monster’s base instincts. Turns ‘em into a mindless killin’ machine, one dat won’t ever stop until it’s stopped. If we don’t catch da perp who’s been sellin’ this raw Determination across da underground market, there’ll be another war on our hands.” 

The human by the bathrooms coughed again, glowering at Asgore over their paper mask. Asgore gave a nervous smile back, tugging at his tie with one paw while he tried and failed to find a comfortable spot to perch on the human-sized chair. Tried to make himself seem smaller, with freshly-trimmed claws and hidden teeth. More presentable. Less mindless. 

At least Tori and Asriel weren’t here. Tori had certainly wanted to come along to Ebott City--had been more than willing to chew out any humans who looked sideways at them--but she still had classes to teach, and someone needed to look after Asriel. Besides, a physical exam was the logical next step for the police investigation.

Which left Asgore alone. With the human. In a human city. 

...He wondered if he should’ve trimmed his claws a bit more. He wondered if he should’ve left them sharp, just in case he needed to use them.

Not that he expected to, of course! He took the required training on de-escalation every year. He’d even declined bringing any arms with him, removing the very possibility of escalating violence. He was here for Kris’s sake, and for Kris’s sake, he would be a role model for pacifism. 

Heck, it could be a good bonding experience for them! He’d spent so long scouring over paperwork and records about the case, Asgore worried he still barely knew the actual human at all. And while in some ways that was a positive--he worried about getting too attached too soon, with the mystery of Kris’s true family still out there--in other ways, he felt... maybe a bit left out. As if being the chief of Hometown’s police force had made him colder. 

...To be honest, sometimes he felt less like a father and more like a tired king, carrying out the law of the land without being able to live among the people in it.

Speaking of. Kris tugged at his sleeve again, and Asgore fumbled to answer their question.

“Well... this is a human hospital, Kris. We’re here for your physical and metaphysical checkup. The doctor here will measure your height, your weight, your SOUL color... all the necessary things to make sure you’re healthy and strong.” 

“Am healthy and strong,” Kris mumbled. 

“Then you should have no trouble with the checkup!” Asgore gave them a wink. “Keep eating well and getting good rest, and someday you might grow as big as I am, hoho!” 

Kris thought this over very, very hard. “When do the horns grow in?” 

Ah. Asgore twitched. “Ah, well... you see, that’s... those will... it’s not exactly...” His eyes twitched to his lap. “H-here, why don’t we look at the pamphlets, first?” 

Have to ask Tori about THAT one later.

Kris scrambled across the armrests, flailing their way into Asgore’s lap with all the grace of a newborn spider. They settled atop one knee with a self-satisfied whumph, a fluff of brown hair poking up beneath Asgore’s chin. Asgore chuckled, adjusting the pamphlet in his hands so Kris could see, too--though how they could see at all behind that mess of scruffy bangs, Asgore wasn’t sure. 

“That’s the spirit, little one! Which one do you suppose you’ll be?” Asgore tilted the pamphlet, skimming over the illustrations. “Ah, there’s a rhyme! I remember this one from primary school. Let’s see...

“A PURPLE soul will persevere,
weighing each line til way is clear.
BLUE soul shines with integrity, 
pure grace and brutal honesty.
CYAN soul is patient and sharp,
cool headed with a quiet heart.
A GREEN soul gifts its kindness true,
A full plate for a careful hue.
YELLOW soul’s justice wins over,
Sure-shot, wise, and fresh as clover.
ORANGE souls are brave and strong,
Rushing forth fist-first and headlong.
A RED soul is--”

The door next to the reception desk creaked open. A human doctor leaned out, one hand wrapped tight around a clear plastic clipboard while the other tugged at her blue ID lanyard.

“Kristal Demure? Your turn.” Her eyes flitted towards Asgore, at first casually--then in shock, flicking between his horns and his eyes and his self in darting movements.

Asgore, for his part, once again waved back and stood up, hunching a little to keep his horns from scraping the ceiling panels. Kris slid off his lap and clung to his leg, staring at the SOUL pamphlet with an expression Asgore couldn’t quite read past the shadows of their bangs. 

They left it, wrinkled and abandoned, on the waiting room chair.

♡♥❤♥♡

Neither of them spoke as the doctor led them down a hall lined with clumps of scattered lab equipment. Sticky rainbow labels and latex gloves dangled off monitors and machines Asgore couldn’t begin to identify, along with rows of needles in orange plastic bins... stainless metal picks... thin glass tubes of fluids... 

It was all startlingly similar to the monster hospital in Hometown, yet so much busier. So much louder. So much more dense, in that suffocatingly physical way that human villages sometimes had. As if any magic or dust had been chemically removed, leaving everything stripped raw.

...Angel, he was glad Tori and Asriel weren’t here. His paw tightened a bit against the top of Kris’s head, keeping them close to his side. (Not that their own shuffling steps or tight grip would get them lost any time soon.) 

 “...Time here?” the doctor asked.

“Erm, pardon?” Asgore blinked back to reality, smiling sheepishly at the doctor crossing her arms below him. At least, to her credit, she seemed patient. (Or perhaps he seemed like the patient.)

“I said, is this your first appointment here?” 

“Yes. Well, it’s not for me, but--” Asgore cut off with an awkward throat-clearing when he saw the doctor crouch down in front of Kris, lanyard jingling and her tired eyes crinkling in a smile. “Erm, yes.”

As usual, Kris took several long seconds to think it over. Then, with all the somberity of a priest at sermon, they nodded.

“I see. You’re being very brave. Step onto the scale, please?” 

The doctor scratched notes against her clipboard as Kris stood, as she tugged a metallic ruler marker down along its notches until it just brushed the top of Kris’s head. 

“Mm-hmm. Weight seems normal for their height. Breathing and posture look good. Coloration is... concerning. How old is Kri...?” She checked the clipboard. Frowned. “‘Krismas’?” 

Asgore started to answer, but Kris cut him off.

“Two and one-quarter.”

Asgore blinked. Where had they gotten that? Two days ago, they’d insisted they were zero. 

The doctor, too, raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’d put you around five or six, at your height.” 

“No, five won’t be until Sunday.” 

“Huh, that’s a lot of birthdays between now and Sunday. You’re sure you’re ready to grow up that fast?” 

Kris stared back. “I’m fully grown. There’s no need for an exam, or more births.”

“Is that so? You’re going to stay at forty-two inches tall your whole life?” 

Kris frowned. “Is that... not... fully grown?” 

The doctor chuckled, her voice lilting up as she played along. “I’m afraid not. ‘Fully grown’ for humans like us is closer to sixty-six inches. See?” She stepped up to the scale, nudging its ruler up until it brushed against the number 66, then showed it to Kris.

Kris stared at the new number, then down at their own 42, then back up at the new number, mouth agape. They looked more emotional than Asgore had ever seen them, body tensed and face gone a pallid gray. 

Then, finally, they breathed: “I’m... unfinished?” 

The doctor laughed. “I don’t know if I’d call it that. Maybe underbaked, if you want. You still need lots of love and care to finish growing. It’s okay, every human goes through it. You don’t need to rush.” 

But Kris didn’t look reassured. Even when Asgore put a hand on their shoulder, they hunched into themself, shivering.

“That... no, I’m not... I’m s’posed to be finished, I’m s’posed to be--I-I’m grown, I’m big, I’m finished... Why am I underbaked?” Their eyes watered. “A-am I broken? Did I get discarded?”

“Of course not, Kris!” Asgore cut his way in, grasping their shoulder mid-sniffle. “You’re fine the way you are, I promise. You don’t have to be in a hurry to grow up. We’ll be here to teach you and make sure you’re healthy. No one is going to discard you any time soon, I promise.” 

They didn’t seem quite as reassured by this as Asgore hoped--then again, he wasn’t sure what it was about not being grown up that had them so scared. Had they really been going around thinking they were an adult? Had they been told as much, as part of their abandonment? ‘My child, you’re five now, here’s a sweater and a pat on the back, go wander into the woods and be free’?

While Asgore rubbed Kris’s back until their sniffles faded, the doctor grabbed a black square about the size of a deck of cards from the nearest computer desk, looping its connected earbuds around her face in one practiced, smooth motion.

“Okay, we're just going to take a quick look at your SOUL while we're here. Can you take a deep breath for me? Like you’re blowing out the candles on a birthday cake.”

Kris grimaced, shoving their head against Asgore’s side... but he gave their shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and their hunched shoulders untensed an inch or two. The black square beeped against their chest. A green light pulsed against its side.

And pulsed.

And pulsed.

Finally, three quick beeps rang out and the light died. The doctor frowned, tilting it in her hand.

“Ugh, I swear I just charged this.” She fished around the desk drawers, yanking out a scraggly power cable, and plugged it into the wall socket.

The SOUL monitor pulsed three times, then beeped and again went dead.

A long, awkward silence followed, before the doctor cleared her throat.

“Huh. Must be... something fried inside, I guess. Lousy cheap junk.”

A thin knot of worry gathered in Asgore’s stomach, which he swallowed back down. “Is it something I could help--?”

“No no, I have a back-up... somewhere...” More shuffling through drawers. The doctor pulled out another, larger monitor, shoving its power cable into the socket and jamming it against Kris’s chest.

This one pulsed for ten whole seconds before letting out a piercing dying-electronics whine. The doctor threw it back into its drawer, flushing hard and ramming the drawer shut to muffle its screaming.

“I am so sorry about this, Mr. Demure. This doesn't usually happen. We've had budget cuts this year, and the SOUL equipment is just--it’s really outdated. If it worked, we could just do a basic metaphysical exam of Krismas’s SOUL, but since it apparently doesn't like us today... If you're okay with it, we'll have to do a manual exam. I'm so sorry, I know you must be busy.”

“It's okay, doctor!” Asgore waved a hand. “We don’t have anywhere else to be today. We can take a look at your SOUL another way, right, Kris?”

He tried to smile, the sort of cheesy wide grin that always made Asriel fall into a giggle fit... but Kris seemed more relieved than nervous. If anything, the broken machinery seemed to take a weight off their tiny shoulders. As if they were... scared of seeing their own soul?

Asgore supposed that made a type of sense. It could be unsettling, seeing everything you were reduced to something so compressed and simplified. The first few times he’d seen his own SOUL during school check-ups, the image of that chalky, raw heart had lingered in the back of his mind for days. 

But then Kris spoke up. “You don’t have to. The SOUL's not there. I don’t have one of my own.”

“Ah...?” The doctor’s voice cracked, slightly. A few stray hairs had worked free of her tight bun, brown curls plastered to her reddening face. “That’s not possible, Krismas.”

Kris pouted. “It’s true.”

“If that was the case, you would be dead.” She glanced up at Asgore, then scrambled to reword. “I mean--un-alive. You need all your organs to function.” 

Kris looked skeptical, and that knot of worry in Asgore’s stomach widened. 

He’d hoped that, once Kris started talking, it might lead to more answers on how they’d made their way into Hometown. But everything they said somehow only made them seem stranger, even for a small child. Worrying about not being grown, afraid of their own SOUL, not to mention the chronic nightmares... 

What the hell had happened to them, before showing up in Hometown?

“If there’s any other issues, we can at least pull some data from what little imprint we did get,” the doctor said, holding up the first soul monitor.

Kris’s eyes bulged. They yanked the monitor out of the doctor’s hands, grasping it so tight their hands shook and earning a startled yelp from Asgore and the doctor alike. Asgore reached to tug the monitor back, but they didn’t seem willing to let it go. They dug their grip in, hanging on with all the intensity of a bear trap.

Now that the doctor mentioned it, Asgore could make out the faintest trace of a heart shape on the monitor’s dull black screen. It was more like an outline than a full SOUL, so dull he couldn’t quite tell the color--cyan? Purple? Red? Something bluish or reddish, more saturated than a monster’s SOUL and so much duller against the screen. 

It unnerved Asgore to look at it too long, but Kris stared at it with wide, unblinking eyes, like something beautiful.

“It’s... a lot fainter of a read than usual,” the doctor added. She held out a hand for the monitor, and this time Kris let it drop into her grip. “We don’t usually get readings this faint outside of the maternity ward or brain trauma unit. It’s probably just the equipment acting up, but all the same, I need to ask: Mr. Demure, has Krismas experienced anything... particularly traumatic, recently, that might’ve set their SOUL development back? Memory loss, abuse, maybe an accident...?”

“I have my own SOUL,” Kris breathed. 

Asgore ruffled their hair, but even as he did, he met the doctor’s worried stare with his own even, somber gaze.

“That is what we are trying to determine,” Asgore said. He dug into his pocket, freeing his police badge in a flash of glistening gold. “We believe Kris may have been abandoned somewhere near Hometown.”

“Dad, dad, I have a SOUL.” 

“I know, Kris. We all do. I’m happy to see you enjoy it.” 

The doctor grimaced. “How long ago?” 

“About three days ago. No trace of any footprints or tracks, and no witnesses in the area. It’s like they just wandered there on their own.”

“Dad, I’m real!” 

“I know. I’m proud of you, Kris.” 

The doctor asked: “How was their health when you found them?” 

“Worse. Their skin was ashen, and they were completely nonverbal. Even now, they won’t talk about what happened.” 

“No, I’m healthy. I’m real! Look, look at the SOUL! I made that! Dad, you’re not looking.” 

“I see it, Kris. It looks lovely. Hold on just a moment, please.” 

“It’s real.”

“It sure is, buddy.” 

The doctor said, “We’ll need to run more physical tests. If their SOUL imprint is this faint at their age... Whatever they went through, it regressed their SOUL development to that of a three-day-old newborn. That is severe metaphysical damage. They might never fully develop into a functional adult. If they do... it’ll be a difficult path, and they’ll need all the resources they can get.” 

She hesitated. Glanced Asgore up and down. Breathed. “I hope you understand what we’re asking of you, Mr. Demure?”

Overhead, the air conditioner rattled and coughed, spitting out dusty motes of ice. Asgore breathed it in and felt it stick against his lungs, settle against the roof of his mouth like secondhand smoke. Something beeped in the distance, pulsing in and out discordantly with the muffled electronic screeching from the other soul monitor still trapped in the desk. 

He suddenly felt far, far too big for this hospital. He itched to stretch his spine out until his horns stabbed into the ceiling, until his foot claws dug trenches against the floor tiles. 

“I... no, doctor. I’m afraid I don’t understand.” But a part of him did. A part of him pulled Kris closer, wrapping a paw around their shoulders. 

She grimaced, first in--a brief, brief flash of--irritation, then in sympathy. “It’s very simple, Mr. Demure. Ebott City has excellent resources for human care. Our hospital can monitor SOUL development at every stage. There’s even a school district nearby, with a special education program that would be perfect for someone like Kris. With your permission, we can get foster care contacted right away, and the entire case will be off the Hometown police roster before you leave today. Isn’t that a relief?” 

Asgore just stared back. Isn’t that a relief? Really? As if this whole case was a burden he was trying to cast off onto the nearest human, when they were the ones who’d...?

Kris went quiet. Asgore glanced down at them, but they were staring at the floor, their eyes once again hidden behind the bangs Toriel had just washed out and brushed clean. 

They mumbled. “I’m real, though.” Their grip tightened, fistfuls of his pants denim scrunched against trembling fingers. And when they tipped their head up to look at him, even with their eyes hidden, a shaking smile cracked across their face. “You don’t have to discard me.” 

Asgore nodded back. Then, to the doctor: “Your offer is appreciated. I look forward to using Ebott City’s resources as assistance with Kris’s development. However, as this case happened in Hometown, I must insist on maintaining authority over it--and over Kris, for that matter.” 

The doctor smiled politely back, a strained customer service grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “I understand your... territorial inclinations, Mr. Demure.”

“Dreemurr.”

“Asgore. But I’d ask you to think about the welfare of those involved, as well. I am not a social worker, but I can tell you that Kris will suffer without proper, human guidance in their recovery. Their skin looks deoxygenated. They’re likely malnourished. Their SOUL is in critical condition. And that’s just what we can determine before we do physical tests. All of those will need around-the-clock care and specialized training to address.”

Kris’s grip shook harder. They glared at the floor. Mumbled, even softer: “I-I was s’posed to be healthy. Wasn't s'posed to be unfinished.”

“We’ll learn. My wife and I have been reading. We don’t mind commuting here for Kris’s care. We don’t mind running tests.” He lowered his voice. “But when it comes to foster care, I would thank you to mind your business, doctor.” 

“Human children’s health is my business, Asgore. I am a mandated reporter. If I have any reason to suspect that a child is being neglected--if they aren’t receiving the care they need as a human to thrive--then I have to step in.”

“You’re assuming we’re incapable.”

“I’m stating you cannot raise a disabled human child on love and compassion alone. If you don’t commit to a decision, you may make things worse. Don’t let your pride be what leads to a child’s harm, Asgore.” 

Something in Asgore snapped. He stood up full, then, and nevermind how the ceiling cracked and splintered around his horns, sprinkling plaster dust all along the computer desk and the metal scale and the SOUL monitor and the damned doctor, herself.

“Humans are the ones who abandoned them in the first place!”

Silence. Even the beeping of that ridiculous old SOUL monitor stopped, its battery giving out with a low whine. 

The doctor--Dr. Evelyn, her nametag read, now that Asgore stood tall enough to peer down at it from a clear angle--cleared her throat. 

“Well. If you’re going to be prejudiced, I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Mr. Demure. You’re welcome to come back once you’ve calmed down.”

Asgore’s mind spun with cold anger. 

Of course you would say that. I’ve been making everyone in this hospital uncomfortable since I showed up. Of course you’d jab and jab until I lashed out, then use that as an excuse to get me to leave. 

Of course you’d use Kris to dig in just that extra bit deeper, too. 

Of course the person who actually abandoned Kris is less important. I’ll always be a monster to you. 

Kris was crying, though. So Asgore took a deep breath in, held it, and let it out through his nose. He hunched back down, tugging his horns free from the ceiling to get closer to Kris’s level. To scoop them into his arms, pressed close. 

“I understand,” he heard himself say. “I’ll let my wife know what we learned so far. We’ll come back another time, once...”

Once I’ve calmed down? Once YOU’VE left the building? Once the waiting room stops playing monster murder dramas?

“...Once things are more settled. Thank you for your time.” Then, through gritted teeth: “Apologies for the ceiling.” 

Dr. Evelyn smiled back, all flat, horse-like human teeth. “We’ll have someone take care of it. Good day, Mr. Demure.”

Asgore turned, but before he could shuffle his way out, Dr. Evelyn spoke again.

“Try iron supplements!” 

He stopped. 

“Iron deficiency. It’s the most common cause of a grayish skin tone. You can pick up tablets at the hospital gift shop.” 

Ah, so now you suddenly care? a part of Asgore’s mind snarked, but he shook it aside.

That was the hell of it. He loathed this woman, and he was certain she loathed him... but they both wanted Kris to survive. They both had pieces of the puzzle that was keeping Kris safe and finding out what had happened to them.

The more time Asgore spent here, the more he resented humanity... and the more he needed to rely on them. 

So, despite himself, he squeezed Kris closer to his chest, and he nodded. “Right. Thank you, Dr. Evelyn. I’ll pick some up.” Then, with a sigh: “And... I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

Kris sniffled against his chest, a low and miserable sound. “‘M sorry ‘m unfinished. 'M sorry. Please don’t throw me away again. Please, please, please, please...”

Asgore stroked their hair as he strode out, focusing on them instead of on the plaster dust falling from his horns, instead of on the baffled receptionist and the spitting, glaring human in the waiting room and the droning crime documentary with its dramatic reinactments. 

“Shh, Kris. No one’s throwing you away.” 

A sob. “Having a SOUL’s hard. It’s so much. It feels bad.”

“I know, kiddo. Sometimes it does that. But it’ll feel better soon.” 

“Dad?”

“Mmhmm?”

They didn’t say anything. Just shoved themself closer, burying their face and chest and shaking hands in his fur and uniform. Asgore let them cling, even as he made his way to the truck and wrestled open the door one-handed on its rusty blue hinges. 

He didn’t want to admit how much, for a moment there, a part of him had been tempted. Tempted to reach out to human foster care, tempted to call in the case, tempted to shove this whole elusive mystery off into smaller, hairless hands more equipped to handle human affairs. 

It had felt, for a split second, like the sort of decision a tired king might make for the good of his people. A noble, self-sacrificing decision, no matter how many children were harmed by it. 

But he wasn’t a king, was he? Not really. He was barely even the chief of police. In this moment, he was nothing more and nothing less than an exhausted dad in a battered pickup that smelled like compost and kerosene and stale beer. 

He hoped to the Angel that, despite everything, that would be enough. 

♡♥❤♥♡

Chapter Text

♡♥❤♥♡

* (The DARK TRUTH of THIS WORLD has become increasingly obvious, to the point where even YOU, with your apathetic and hollow vessel of a body, can no longer deny it.) 

* (YOU are small.)

* (At first, you had no scale of reference for THIS WORLD. Things were simply as they were, to be observed and recorded in neutral acceptance. The HOLIDAY girl is tall and lanky and orange. The DREEMURRs are taller and wider still, fluffy white and softer spoken. QC is tall and long-eared and purple. YOU are average and unremarkable, as nondescript as the gray tones of your skin. Such are simply facts of existence.)

* (But the HUMAN CHECKUP has rattled you. You cannot stop thinking over what data it provided, even after the DREEMURR DAD implored you not to linger on it. It has recontextualized your very perception of THIS WORLD, coloring it as certainly as ASRIEL’s green hand-me-down SWEATER has colored your own vessel.) 

* (YOU are not unremarkable: YOU are a HUMAN, perhaps the only one of your kind in the HOMETOWN area.)

* (YOU are no longer a beacon of neutral acceptance: you have started developing your own SOUL, independent of--or perhaps a precursor to--THE SOUL from THE PROPHECY. It is colored incurably with your own emotions, interests, and sense of will.)

* (Worst of all, YOU ARE SMALL.)

* (It is more obvious than ever on this day, two weeks into your existence, as you hold the DREEMURR MOM’s hand and stand at the doorway of the KINDERGARTEN CLASSROOM she maintains. Several MONSTERs sit on cushions in the middle of the floor, babbling among themselves, until she claps her hands for their attention.)

MOM says: “Good morning, class!”

THE CLASS singsongs, in unison: “Good morning, Ms. Toriel!” 

MOM says: “As promised, we have a new student joining us today. Class, please say hello to Krismas Dreemurr.” 

* (There’s a beat of silence as the seven other MONSTERs take in the sight of you, standing rigid next to MOM.)

* (You’re grateful, in this moment, for the red HORNED HEADBAND MOM gifted you before enrolling you in this SCHOOL. It is no substitute for proper fur and claws, but it makes you appear a bit more similar to your monstrous peers, and eases the rattled disorientation that the CHECKUP left you with. It even seems to make a few of the other MONSTERs relax.)

* (Only for a moment, though. Then the questions burst out of them in a rush.)

An armless yellow MONSTER asks: “Yo, Miss Teacher, why are they naked? Are they sick or something?”

A fluffy white bird retorts: “They aren’t naked, ice-for-brains. They got a sweater on.”

The yellow monster says: “Oh. Miss Teacher, why are they bald?”

Another, bluer bird says: “Clearly, their thin fur and squashed facial features mean they’re a monkey-type monster. They come from the primatomorphic genus of monster. You’d know that if you did the homework last week.”

A strange cat-dog monster says: “Awawawa! Hoi hoi, new friend!!!! Tem have: MANY THIGN to show yous!!!!!!!!!”

A somber white cat monster barely glances up from the book she’s reading, then looks back down. “Weirdo.” 

A green, snake-like monster wriggles and says: “Yooooo Krisssss! Cool handssss! We ssshould, totally, go sssskateboardsss!” He coughs. “Sorry, dude, I totally like, have a lisssp sometimes. My mom sssays, I should, work on it??” 

* (A cacophony of squeaky voices and shouting. Your grip tightens against MOM’s skirt as doubt and wariness lurch through you.) 

* (Surely this... KINDERGARTEN... isn’t a necessary part of THE PROPHECY? It’s true that it seems to be a facility dedicated to learning more about THIS WORLD, and your vessel is grimly lacking in data. It is also true that DREEMURR MOM and DREEMURR DAD are passionate about it being a place where YOU should be--it has come up countless times in their discussions, and sometimes in their arguments. They are your guides to THIS WORLD, and thus they must have some keen awareness as to your purpose.) 

* (Yet you remain uncertain how GOING SKATEBOARDS will assist you in your divine mission. Will the great darkness that cracks open the earth and consumes all in its maw be more easily surmounted if one has a board?) 

* (Before the other MONSTERs can get too riled up, MOM speaks up again.)

She says: “I am sure you all have a lot of questions! Thank you for being welcoming. First off: Krismas isn’t a primatomorph, Berdly. They’re actually a human. Can anyone here tell me what that means?” 

* (More cacophony.)

The yellow armless monster says: “Yo! Miss Teacher, does that mean they have, like, blood and guts and stuff?” 

The bluebird scoffs. “Um, actually, there’s no way that is a human. I’ve seen plenty of human documentaries. They’re much more venomous and aggressive than that.”

* (You glare at the bluebird--Berdly--on instinct, and his feathers puff up as he flinches away.)

The cat-dog says: “OoooOOooo! Tem is allergic to hoomans! Tem always wanted to go to HOPITAL!” 

MOM says: “Oh... Temmie, maybe you should avoid touching Kris for now. We’ll have to talk to your parents about that, actually...”

* (A hand raises, towards the back of the circle of MONSTERs. It belongs to the only MONSTER you haven’t heard speak yet, a blonde-haired deer creature of similar appearance to DESS.)

The deer-thing says: “I-it means they have a different type of SOUL, right?” 

* (TORIEL claps.)

She says: “Very good, Noelle! That’s exactly right. Humans are a lot like monsters, except their SOULs don’t directly affect their bodies in the same way. They get all the magic they need to survive from the earth around them, instead. This also means that their bodies don’t reflect their SOUL’s temperament. So a kind and gentle human won’t have a softer appearance, and even a very aggressive human won’t ever develop claws, fangs, or... venom sacs.” 

* (She glares as she says this, as if it’s something she learned only recently, and seems frustrated to have ever believed. Just as soon, though, she brightens back up.)

She says: “If it helps, please think of Kris as a blank slate. Their SOUL grows with how they’re treated, so it’s especially important that we treat Kris with love and compassion, so they can grow kind and loving in return. Do you understand, children?” 

* (Muttering. The children all seem various degrees of awed and invested. Worse, they’re all staring at you, not at all like you’re a blank slate or a nondescript vessel--exactly the opposite. They’re looking at you like you’re the most interesting thing in the room by far.)

The white bird chirps: “Got it! Hope you’re prepared for all my best jokes, human!”

BERDLY hums: “Hrmph. Well, I suppose, if they’re a total blank, that makes it my duty to teach them everything. Fine. I accept the responsibility.” 

MOM says: “No, Berdly, don’t worry. I am still the teacher.”

BERDLY ruffles his feathers again, and says: “What!? But I was already planning out what games to introduce them to for the best experience!” 

The white cat murmurs: “Hrm... Pure being. Curious. Easy to... corrupt to darkness. Tempting. Must protect. Must keep to the light.”

MOM says: “That’s... certainly one way to look at it, Catti. Please stick to the light, all of you, yes.”

* (She claps her hands again.)

MOM says: “Alright! Now that that’s settled. Kris, please take a seat on one of the cushions. Today we’re going to begin our storytime about the letter “T”, then practice writing out our T’s. Then we can take a snack break! Won't that be lovely?”

* (She goes on about the importance of the letter T as you trot over to the cushions. They all appear full, at first--and any chairs are shoved in a dizzying tower against the far corner, inaccessibly high--but the deer monster NOELLE sees you and scoots over, making enough space for you to sit beside her. This also puts you close to the smug bluebird BERDLY, but such are the sacrifices you must make for education.)

* (You stare ahead at MOM’s lecture with your usual neutral face, nodding along as she describes T’s crucial importance in the ALPHABET.)

MOM asks: “Does anyone know a word that starts with ‘T’?

The armless one says: “Teapot!”

The cat-dog says: “TEMMIE!” 

BERDLY says: “Easy: the Top of the Trial mission in Dragon Blazers Two!” 

MOM says: “VERY good, Berdly, that’s three whole words! Kris, do you want to try to talk about a word starting with ‘T’?” 

* (She winks.)

* (This exercise seems redundant. Your vessel is already well-familiar with multiple language characters, to ease any eventual communion with the SOUL. Certainly this is less necessary even than SKATEBOARDS?)

* (But MOM is looking at you expectantly, so to humor her and fulfill this side mission, you pull one at random from your vessel’s inner dictionary.)

You mumble: “Trichotillomania.” 

* (MOM seems taken aback, for a moment... but then beams with undeniable pride.)

MOM says: “Excellent job, Kris! What a big word!” 

* (BERDLY is glaring daggers at you, but you do not feel particularly bothered nor interested in his perspective. He seems, even by the standards of your small vessel, childlike, and likely irrelevant to the ultimate goals of the PROPHECY. There is no purpose in wasting energy engaging with him--even if his mentioned list of introduction games... intrigues you.)

* (A new stimuli catches your focus, instead: the deer monster NOELLE is glancing at you, over and over. Her eyes are wide, ears and nose twitching as she assesses you.) 

* (So, you stare back. Your own eyes are hidden behind your bangs--the filter helps, somewhat, with the overwhelming stimuli of THIS WORLD. Nevertheless, she jumps, startled at being noticed, before putting on a nervous, bucktoothed smile.)

She whispers: “H-h-hi! I’m Noelle. Dess told me about you. Um, it’s nice to finally meet you!” 

* (You take a moment to respond, looking her over. She’s similar enough to DESS, but much smaller, around your own size. And she’s wearing what appear to be paper mache white wings over her blue, snowflake-patterned dress. An odd choice, but it makes your own HORNED HEADBAND feel less obvious.) 

* (So you smile back in approval.)

You mumble: “Greetings.” 

* (Something about your formal tone makes her giggle. She presses a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle it even as her pigtails bounce around and her wings rustle.)

NOELLE says: “You know, I heard humans are scary. But you don’t seem scary at all! You’re just a little kid like me, aren’t you? Fahaha.” 

* (You tilt your head further, that approving smile still on your face. Smiling makes people feel more at ease, right? As does maintaining eye contact. If she is associated with DESS, it’s important to make a good impression. So you smile even wider as you stare her down, unblinking.) 

You say: “I am not scary.”

* (NOELLE’s own smile twitches as she glances away. She laughs again, but more nervously this time. It’s... strange, to think that you caused such a reaction only with your dialogue choices. It’s a similar feeling to when you scrawled on the KIDZ’Z MENU at the QC DINER. You have brought about a direct change to the script and setting of THIS WORLD.)

* (For some reason, the idea makes you feel... powerful. You smile wider. Stare harder.)

You add more dialogue to clarify: “This vessel was not designed to be scary. The only thing you need to fear is the upcoming, inevitable damnation of this earth as the depths crack open and spill their darkness across all of creation.” 

* (This is obvious and reassuring to you. But somehow, the description only makes her appear more afraid. Curious. She stammers as she speaks.)

She says: “Up--upcoming... what? W-w-when is... that?” 

You say: “No one is certain when this earth will collapse. It could happen years from now. It could happen tomorrow.”

* (A thought occurs to you. You can interact with this world. You can illustrate your narrative. Would that be more helpful?)

You lower your voice as you mutter: “It could even happen... right...” 

* (You slap your hands together.)

You shout: “NOW!” 

* (NOELLE lets out a shrill scream, and you are startled and delighted to see such a powerful reaction. You reel back, and you can’t help but let out an enraptured giggle as you realize: you CAUSED that to happen. You!)

* (What a fascinating character! What fascinating results! With only your barest words and actions, you’ve brought about such a dramatic response that it’s ground the entire KINDERGARTEN session around you to a startled halt. You don’t even particularly mind anymore that everyone’s looking at you, because they’re looking at you and NOELLE, now. They’re looking at the action you caused upon this world.)

* (Because that’s the other dizzying truth of this world, isn’t it? You are small, and you are human, and you are perhaps broken and unsuitable as a vessel, but above all else you are YOU. You EXIST in this world, and by your very nature you bring about incalculable shock waves of effects and reactions and changes upon it. NOTHING in this setting is predetermined beyond the PROPHECY.) 

* (Yes, YES! You giggle with mad excitement as the NOELLE MONSTER continues to react by bursting into tears. Tears that YOU caused! YOU have shifted the dynamic of this entire KINDERGARTEN, exerting your power over it despite the smallness and weakness of your vessel! Truly, in THIS WORLD, you can say ANYTHING. You can DO ANYTHING. There is NOTHING in this world that can stop you from exerting your WILL, no POWER great enough to get in the way of the incalculable, compounding effects you put upon it!)

* (You are unstoppable! You are all-powerful! You are--you are--!)

♡♥❤♥♡

* (You are sitting in the TIME OUT CHAIR.)

* (...It seems that, despite the incredible and infinite possibilities your actions can bring, there are yet more powerful forces in THIS WORLD.) 

* (Forces such as DREEMURR MOM, who picked you up and, through sheer strength and POWER, took a chair from the top of the Tower of Gods and set it down for you to sit upon, “until you’ve calmed down.”)

* (You swing your feet in irritation. MOM is truly more clever than you expected, as well. She has responded to your destructive hunger for interaction by confining you to this space of limited movement, and in doing so restricted your options for interACTion.)

* (It is clear that you will have to get much, much bigger and more clever if you ever wish to surpass MOM’s true POWER. Let alone the other POWERful forces the PROPHECY foreshadows.) 

* (For now, it's strange in an unpleasant way to be confined to the TIME OUT CHAIR. After so much of THIS WORLD manifested itself in dazzling, overwhelming ways, the TIME OUT CHAIR is your first experience with something... truly... boring.) 

* (But perhaps there is wisdom in contrast. BOREDOM, too, is an experience worth observing and archiving. This exposure to ACTions and CONSEQUENCEs is a valuable insight into not just your own impact on THIS WORLD, but others’ demonstrations of their POWER. There is an order here, a SYSTEM to be understood--and in time, mastered.) 

* (Before you can piece it together, though, MOM approaches you. It seems the insufferable lessons on ‘T’ have ended. She has even brought NOELLE with her, pressed against her side in the exact same way you prefer to stand. For a moment you wonder if she's brought NOELLE to replace you and abandon you to the CHAIR forever, and the thought fills you with such immediate, visceral dread that you freeze in place, unable to breathe.)

* (Then MOM offers you a container of APPLE SLICES and HONEY, a clear GIFT of affection, and your worry lessens.) 

She says: “Hello there, my Kris. You did a great job staying put. Are you ready to apologize to Noelle for scaring her?”

* (You blink up at MOM from the container, confused. Apologize for what? You only stated the TRUTH.)

* (...Then again, you suppose it... is possible, even likely, that in your rash enthusiasm over your ACTs on THIS WORLD, you failed to truly acknowledge the results as signs of distress. You can agree that your ACTions brought NOELLE harm.)

* (...Huh. It is a strange feeling. The joyful POWER at having affected THIS WORLD at all, tempered by your own memories of what it was like to be brought to tears during the CHECKUP. You did not realize your vessel was truly capable of abusing POWER in such a similar way to the CHECKUP. You will have to be more careful and deliberate in your ACTions, in the future.)

* (For now...)

You nod. “‘M sorry for making you cry, Noelle.” 

* (NOELLE perks up immediately.)

She says: “That's okay, Kris! To be honest, it was--it was kinda fun to be a little scared! It was really exciting, and your mom let me have my snack early because of it. I saved you some raisins, too, if you want. Sorry they're the mushed ones at the bottom.” 

* (‘Fun’? A curious response. Fear can be fun? You don't quite understand. You'll have to experiment with these reactions further, you suspect--but more discreetly, without alerting the entire KINDERGARTEN.)

* (You welcome the distraction from these redundant ALPHABET exercises. Coming up with ‘fun’ ways to scare NOELLE will surely improve your capacity to ACT upon THIS WORLD more efficiently than letter studies.)

* (As an experiment, you offer NOELLE a single APPLE SLICE as you hop off the TIME OUT CHAIR. She takes it with a cheery smile, gifting you a battered RAISIN BOX from her pocket in return. The leftover RAISINS are indeed mushed at the bottom, but it provides a fascinating puzzle, attempting to extract them from their cardboard dregs. Is this... FUN? A modicum of fear or inconvenience, tempered by intellectual stimulation and curiosity?)

* (You are closer to understanding, now.)

* (By the time you both finish, you feel... connected, somehow. As you did with DESS. A social bond has been forged.)

* (NOELLE hums under her breath as MOM goes around cleaning up the CLASSROOM, picking up discarded plastic CUPs and crumpled NAPKINs. It's pleasant company, especially after the isolation of the TIME OUT CHAIR.) 

She says: “By the way, Kris, d’you wanna ask your mom if you can play with Dess and me tomorrow?”

You shrug your shoulders and ask: “Yes. What will we be playing?” 

* (The thought of seeing NOELLE and DESS together fills you with a sense of completion and warmth, which pairs well with the apple sweetness.)

* (...Until NOELLE speaks up, and the taste sours in the back of your throat.)

She says: “Dess said I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but... she said she wants to break into the old bunker.”

♡♥❤♥♡

Chapter Text

♡♥❤♥♡

Dess didn’t want to brag or anything, but she was basically the coolest, toughest, and most talented kid in all of Hometown.

Sure, there wasn’t a lot of competition. Asriel smelled like pizza grease and cried if you made fun of his haircut. Pizzapants “My name’s not Pizzapants” McMike was covered in acne and thought snapping bra straps was funny. And Bratty and Catty literally dug around in the grocery store dumpster for magazines and expired eyeliner. (Unlike Dess, who only dug around in the dumpster sometimes for shoes and used electronics.) Every other kid in town was a baby, and so didn’t count.

But being the coolest even by default meant Dess had a reputation to uphold, and she took it as seriously as Mom took their grades or Noelle took her Ice-E creepypastas. People looked up to her! She had an image! She couldn’t lose focus, ever!

So when the human showed up, covered in dust-gray powder and writhing facelessly from the depths of the cursed bunker, she was proud to say she wasn’t scared even a little. If she did run away once she realized they were a human, it was as a strategic retreat to regroup and gather reinforcements, like in the war documentaries. 

And she definitely wasn’t still scared of them after Aunt Toriel put them in kindergarten. Who the heck was scared of a kindergardener? Maybe Noelle, but she was also a kindergartener, so she was allowed to be scared of everything. Dess, however, had to stay cool and organized and responsible.

And she was! So cool. Incredibly cool.

So cool, in fact, that she didn’t even flinch when she and Dad and Azzy crossed the school building to pick up Noelle and the human was right there, less gray and faceless than before but still staring like one of those possessed dolls from the ghost watcher shows. She didn’t flinch, either, when Aunt Toriel looked over and said, “Oh, hello, Rudolph! I’m still cleaning up, could you be a deer and take the kids to your home today? There’s a second car seat in the back of the van, it just needs to be set up.”

Dess couldn’t show weakness. Not with her sister clinging to her hand, her best friend hitching up his dumb Green Dinosaur backpack beside her, her dad laughing behind her, and the human right in front of her.

Dad’s laugh rang out like church bells, low and just a bit raspy, as if he hadn’t heard that lame pun from Aunt Toriel a hundred times.

“Don’t mind if I do! Any kids of yours are kids of ours, after all. That includes this newest ornament on the tree.” 

Angel, did he have to point it out? Dess shuffled out of the way as Dad bent down to smile at the creepy possessed human baby.

“Well! Ain’t you just a little hollyberry? Merry Krismas, right? Is that Asriel’s old sweater I see?” 

Dess tapped her hoof, pretending to be interested in the stickers on the door to avoid looking at the dusty human. Eight black and white thumbnail photos of babies stared back at her, each taped jaggedly to paper cutouts of apples and worms. Hideously enough, Aunt Toriel had put the human’s worm right next to Noelle’s apple, as if she was already planning their wedding day. 

Knowing Toriel, she was.

Gross. 

The human’s stilted, precise handwriting looked so weird next to Noelle’s cute, wobbly letters. 

NOELLE HOLIDAY
AGE: 5 3/4THS
BIRTHDAY: DEC 24!!!!!!!
FAVORITE FOOD: FROTCAK!!!!!!!!
WHEN I GROW UP I WANT TO BE: AN ANGLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

KRISMAS DREEMURR
AGE: 14 days.
BIRTHDAY: Unknown.
FAVORITE FOOD: The apple.
WHEN I GROW UP I WANT TO BE: Free.

Weird answers. Weird kid. Weird human. Why had she even brought them to Toriel? Why had she ever believed they might be a harmless, lost baby monster? 

Was this her fault? Couldn’t be. Dess grimaced at their worm, and grimaced harder as the human replied to Dad in their mumbling monotone.

“Not a hollyberry. Just Kris. My sweater now.” 

Instead of freaking Dad out like that creepy speech should’ve done, Dad laughed even harder, ruffling the human’s floofy hair.

“Ooh, pardon me! Pleasure to meet ya, ‘just Kris’. Did ya have a good first day at school?”

“Mm... acceptable.” 

“Ha! Tori, your new kid is a riot. I’m keeping this one. You’re not getting them back.” 

Sheesh, was Dess really the only person in Hometown smart enough to recognize how freaky the human kid was? It was like everyone else had seen a wild tiger and decided to bring it home as a friendly new pet. She knew monsters were compassionate by default--it was what made her stand out so much as an aloof cool kid--but this was ridiculous. Didn’t they see the gray skin? The lack of any sort of SOUL signature to their speech and movements and appearance? Heck, Dess was pretty sure even the horns on their head were from the Haunted Festival section of the general store. 

It was like they were a reanimated corpse, pulled out of some ditch. Couldn’t anyone else see--

Noelle tugged on her sleeve, yanking Dess out of her grumbling with a bright-eyed, adorable smile.

“Dess! Dess, today we got to study our letters and talk about humans and we made door stickers, didya see mine?”

Dess forced a grin. “I did! It was pretty sick. Could’ve used more exclamation points, though.”

Noelle pouted. “Yeah, I ran outta room on the paper. But also! Also! Kris and I shared our snacks and they said they liked my picture and we’re best friends now, okay?”

What. Dess’s grin sank. She glanced over at Asriel for some help, but the golden boy of Hometown was once again too busy chatting with the adults and showing off his latest A+ paper to notice the severe incredible danger right in front of him.

Which meant it was up to Dess to save the day. She sighed, reaching over to grasp Noelle’s shoulders.

“Elly. Kid. I get that it’s cool that the Dreemurrs have a... kid... your own age to hang out with now, but I don’t think that’s a kid, if you get me.”

Noelle blinked. “You think they’re a grown-up?”

“No, I think--ugh. I mean, look at them. You can’t sense their personality or feelings or anything. Aren’t they creepy? Like, y’know how Ice-E’s creepy?” That had to work. Noelle hated Ice-E. 

So it was much to Dess’s frustration that Noelle only nodded along, smiling wider.

“I know! It’s really neat, huh? They’re scary at first, but actually really nice! They shared their apple with me even though they said it’s their favorite food ever. It’s like having a nice demon around so I don’t gotta be afraid of Ice-E anymore ‘cause they’re scarier and will protect me.” 

“That’s not how that--” Dess stopped. “Wait, you think I won’t protect you from Ice-E? Am I not good enough or somethin’?”

Noelle giggled. “No-no-no! You’re the bestest ever. But you gotta go to the other classes, right? So now there’s a big demon and a little demon.” 

Ugh. It was bad enough that Aunt Toriel and Dad were falling for the human’s wounded puppy trick. But now Noelle had decided to go from a scaredy-cat to a brave bear? She wouldn’t even eat Frosty Flakes because the mascot scared her! Why did the resident demon make her happy?

More importantly, how the heck was Dess supposed to protect Noelle from the human if they were best friends? 

It had to be some sort of human hypnotism. Like those snakes that swayed back and forth before striking, or like the secret chemicals that human doctors put into their vaccines. 

Dess risked a glance at the human. The human stared back, all wide gray eyes and a neutral face that made Dess’s tail twitch and stomach lurch. 

Officer Asgore had barely looked at the bunker for a week before giving up and asking the human to call him Dad. More proof that you couldn’t trust cops to do anything right. To him, the case was as good as closed.

...No, it was obvious that if she was going to get answers and protect everyone in Hometown, she’d have to do things herself. As always.

The human blinked up at her, and Dess swore they already knew she was thinking about the bunker. She glared back, gritting her teeth in a smirk.

That’s right, you little weirdo. I’m gonna find out exactly what freaky abyss you came from. And then? I’m gonna push you right back in.

♡♥❤♥♡

First, though, Dess had to help Dad set up the human’s car seat. 

She grumbled the whole time as her and Dad and Asriel shoved the thing in, clicking and strapping it in place with a billion pieces and connectors that left welts in her fur and barely fit together. The human, perched on the seat and strapped in place like an astronaut, watched her the whole time, and Dess swore she saw them stare harder each time she bashed her thumb or dropped a connector piece. Like they were studying her suffering. 

Just when she was about to slot in the last stupid buckle, the human mumbled right against her ear.

“Dess. Do not go to the bunker.”

Dess bit back a nervous grin. So they did know, after all. She fiddled with the buckle a little longer, muttering back.

“Why not? You hiding somethin’ in there, human? Somethin’ you wanna confess?”

The human wiggled in their seat. “Isn’t time yet. No flooding. No roaring. Not even SOULs.” 

What? Dess squinted back. “Listen. I don’t really care what your schedule is. That thing spat you out like old gum, and even if Asgore doesn’t care anymore, I’m gonna find out why. Today. Got it?”

Silence. Quiet.

Then, a tiny jab of pain. Dess let out a yelp, jolting away from the car seat. She looked down to find a nibbled green crayon, smushed half-flat against her best plaid jacket. 

“Hey! Did you just stab me with a crayon?”

The human blinked, genuine surprise overtaking their usual neutral face. “Oh. Thought you would die.”

“You thought I’d...?! DAD!” Dess skittered away from the car, hands clenched into fists at her side.

Dad glanced over from the driver’s seat, one arm bent over the headrest. Even Asriel and Noelle looked, Asriel sitting all prim and proper in the passenger side and Noelle peeking over the glow of her tablet in her own car seat’s nest of blankets and stuffies. 

“What is it, sugarplum?” Dad asked.

“Kris is trying to kill me!” Even as Dess said it, she knew Dad wouldn’t believe her. Adults never did. Didn’t need human hypnotism for that. 

Sure enough, Dad just laughed it off. “They’re that much of a crabapple? Must need a nap! You need a nap, too, Noelle-bell?”

“Nuhuh! I’m gaming!” 

“Alright, good to know. You change your mind when we get home, let me know.” 

“Dad,” Dess growled.

“What is it?”

“Where am I supposed to sit if the human wants to kill me?” She spat the words out between gritted teeth. “I’m not sitting next to someone who stabbed me with a crayon.” 

“Well... could ask you and Azzy to trade? Azzy, you good with that?”

“Oh! Y-yes, Mr. Holiday, sir!”

“Asriel,” Dess hissed, once Asriel had shuffled his way out of the passenger seat and to the minivan’s back doors. He paused, one floppy ear twitching.

“Yeah?” he asked.

Dess grasped his arms. “Asriel. You are my best friend.”

“Um. I think so, yeah! Thank you.” 

“Asriel, don’t get yourself killed by a human for me.”

“Um... okay!” He rolled his eyes. “Will do.”

“I’m serious.”

“And so am I? I’ve been living with Kris for weeks. I don’t think they can do a murder.” His eyes softened. “Seriously. I know Kris is the most exciting and maybe-a-little-scary thing that’s happened in a while. So I promise, I won't let them kill me. But we still all gotta get home somehow, you know? No use in arguing about seats.” 

Ugh. Dess hated it when Azzy had a point. He was such a pizza-smelling nerd, it hurt her pride to agree with him.

But he was, by process of pure elimination, the second-coolest kid in Hometown. And if Kris wanted to kill Azzy, they could’ve done it at any point when Azzy was sleeping in their shared room. Which meant Dess had no choice but to consider Azzy more-or-less safe around the human.

For now, anyway.

Grumbling to herself, she stepped aside to let Azzy slide into the back, nestling himself between either car seat in a mess of lanky preteen joints and fluffs of stray fur. Kris sneezed out a fluff, and Noelle giggled. 

Dess, meanwhile, moved to the passenger seat, arms crossed and shoulders hunched. Dad ruffled her hair once she’d gotten settled, and she spent the whole two-minute drive back brushing it back into place with her fingers.

She had an image to maintain, after all.

♡♥❤♥♡

Kris tried to kill Dess three more times once they got home. 

First they kicked out a foot while everyone was shuffling out of the car, bumping Dess’s ankle and sending her staggering against Azzy. She shoved them back on instinct, knocking them hard to the asphalt, and got banished to her room until dinner for it. 

Fine. Being locked in her room meant less chances to get murdered by that thing.

At dinner--a big spaghetti platter Asgore and Rudy served up with way too much enthusiasm--Dess caught Kris sprinkling a handful of apple seeds onto her plate the second her back was turned. She reeled on them as soon as her twitching ears caught the sound of tinkling on ceramic, lowering her head to point her antlers towards their outstretched little hand.

“Spicing things up, huh?” she whispered, barely audible over Aunt Toriel laughing at one of Mom’s work stories. Mom poured her a wine glass from the bottle on the foyer table, next to the Santa hats and a car key bowl shaped like a pineapple fruitcake. 

The human stared blankly back, their eyes shadowed above the snowflake bandaids Dad had plasted on their face after they’d beefed it against the asphalt. “Apple seeds contain cyanide. Cyanide is a potent neurotoxin. You will feel the effects soon.” 

They didn’t even sound guilty about poisoning her. If anything, they sounded resigned, as if trying to kill Dess was some big moral duty they’d taken on themself for the good of monsterkind. 

...Dess decided to skip dinner tonight. Too unnerved to eat. 

Especially when, thirty minutes later, she felt something tapping against her thigh and looked down to see a butterknife gripped in a tiny gray fist, its curved edge prodding at her arm. The human scowled in concentration as they prodded.

“This vessel’s weapons are too weak to stop you,” they muttered. Then, louder: “Mom Dreemurr! May I have the kitchen knife?” A pause. “Please?” 

Toriel barely looked over from her and Mom’s conversation, or her third wine glass. “You’re too little for a knife, Kris. Maybe ask December to cut up your food?”

Kris and Dess both grumbled. 

“Don’t bother,” Dess mumbled to them, as they tossed their butterknife to the tile floor with a frustrated scowl. “They don’t listen to us even when they’re not drinking. I bet they wouldn’t notice if you did kill me. Welcome to the Holiday-Dreemurr dream family, where nothing bad ever happens.” 

Aunt Toriel and Dad howled with laughter. The lights, too bright and cold overhead, illuminated the red flushes on their fur and the spaghetti sauce on their chins. The air conditioner coughed out a peppermint-scented breeze, layered sickly over the tomato warmth of Asgore’s pasta recipe.

“And then,” Aunt Toriel said, “Carol took out her katana and cut the table in half! Stopped him mid-word!” 

“Violence is the only language politicians understand,” Mom said. She was even half-smiling. 

“Hoho! That table took so long to repair...” Uncle Asgore added. 

Whatever. Dess shoved against the table, pushing her chair back. It scraped against the linoleum. Good. “I’m finished. I’m goin’ for a walk.”

That got a flicker of sobriety from Mom, just enough for her to glare at Dess. “It’s getting dark. It isn’t safe.”

Neither is sitting around here waiting to get killed by a human, Dess didn’t say.

“I’ll be back before bedtime. Promise.” 

“Dess--”

Toriel rested a hand on Mom’s hand, stopping her mid-rant with a gentle smile. “She’s almost a teenager, Carol. She can go walk for a bit, can she not? Oh, remember when you and I used to go out to loiter near the old gas station? You were such a hooligan, then!” 

“Um, I can go with her, Mrs. Holiday!” Asriel offered. He batted his eyes like the golden boy he was, and if it weren’t for his braces, Dess could’ve kissed him. Asriel could get away with anything. 

“Being a hooligan in the past is exactly why I don’t approve of hooliganery now.” Carol’s eye twitched, but Dess could tell she was weakening. She always weakened around the Dreemurrs. At last, she sighed, massaging her forehead. “If you’re going with Asriel, take Noelle and Kris with you. And bring them back before their bedtimes.” 

“Mom! That’s in like, five minutes!” And one of them keeps, again, trying to KILL ME.

“I said what I said.” 

Dess grit her teeth, ready to get into it... but before she could blow off some of the frustration that’d been nagging at her all day, a hand brushed hers. She blinked over to see Asriel already at her side, and Noelle with her baby pink plastic tablet at his side. 

He smiled in that dorky, idiot way he had. Whispered in a low, conspiratorial voice. “I can look after the kids. You wanted to see the bunker, right? This is our chance to escape.”

...Man, Dess loved it when the smiley golden flower boy got in touch with his evil side. She took a deep breath and let it out through her nose, nodding.

“We’ll be back. See ya around, nerds.” 

Another poke. Dess was already starting to get too familiar with the shape of butterknives. She nodded at Azzy, who nodded back, before scooping Kris into his fluffy arms and plucking the knife away. He followed Dess at a trot, past the dining room and foyer and into the dark. 

“Golly, Kris, you’re in a mood today. Maybe let’s not try and stab Dess to death anymore?” Azzy muttered. “Seriously, that’s... that’s actually really concerning. Did Mom call that art therapist yet?”

At least Azzy was willing to tell the creep off. Dess would take what she could get. 

“Starting to think it’s too bad they didn’t kill me,” she muttered.

“I’m really concerned about both of you,” Azzy corrected. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Kris mumbled. Their voice was more mumbly than ever, congested with sleepiness and a full stomach as they snuggled into Asriel’s arms. “Can’t do it. Too weak. Am not the thing most likely to kill you there, anyway.” 

Noelle had been pretty quiet, focused on her tablet as she walked next to Dess at a meandering trot. The glow cast her face sickly white white, a neon contrast to the washed-out autumn twilight around them as they crunched through piles of yellowed leaves and dried grass. Overhead, one of Hometown’s seven or so streetlights flickered on with a dull whine, bathing the sidewalk yellow and turning their shadows long and deep.

The air tasted like pumpkin seeds and hints of winter. It felt like barely nighttime. It felt like it’d been nighttime for a hundred years. 

Noelle tucked the tablet against her side, just long enough to stare over at Kris with her wide doe eyes.

“Um... Kris? You’ll protect us, though, right? If there’s anything scary out here? You said you would...” 

A long, long pause. 

Then Kris huffed a breath. “Yes.” 

“Cool. Great. Glad I’m functionally useless, then. Might as well let myself get stabbed.” Dess threw up her hands, then jammed them deep into her pockets, cramming her fingers against candy wrappers and the jagged edges of her Swiss army knife. She drew the knife out, flipping it between her fingers in a nervous tic. 

“Dess! That’s not what Noelle meant, you know that.” Azzy scrambled to catch up with her, huffing for breath as he hauled Kris along. “You’ll always be the leader. You’re the coolest kid in Hometown, right?”

“Like that matters if no one listens to me.” Dess turned her head away, refusing to let Azzy see how the comment made the fur on her cheeks bristle against the blushing skin.

“Glad to know I’m no one,” Azzy muttered under his breath.

“That’s not what I--” Dess shook her head. “You know what I mean, golden boy. They like you. They listen to you.”

“So I can use that to help you.” Azzy glanced down at Kris. Their eyes had drifted closed, breathing slow and steady against his chest. Even so, he lowered his voice. “I... I don’t think you’re crazy, Dess. I think everything with--with Kris showing up--it’s weird. It’s weird, and no one’s talking about it. Even Dad... even Dad let it go after that trip to Ebott City. He wouldn’t even say why.”

Noelle squeezed Dess’s hand. “Is it... demons?” 

Dess tried and failed to hold onto her spite. But Noelle’s innocent face and Azzy’s determination, as usual, made the feelings evaporate into the early night fog. 

Stupid monster compassion.

She reached down to pick Noelle up, cradling her in a slightly more janky version of Asriel’s kid-hold. The paper mache wings rustled against her jacket sleeves. “We dunno what it is, Noelle-bell. That’s what we’re lookin’ to find out. Could be another dimension full of demons. Could be a secret underground human society. Could even be a creepypasta.” 

“Like uncle’s spaghebbi?”

“Just like that, but ten times gloobier.” She nuzzled Noelle’s nose with a grin. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. Like you said, you got your best friend to protect you now, right? And I gotta protect my best friend. So we’re both fine.”

Isn’t time yet. No flooding. No roaring. No SOULs, Kris had said.

Whatever the hell that meant.

Whatever, whatever, whatever. Once they investigated the bunker, then they’d know more. 

It didn’t even take that long to walk across all of Hometown, past the church and through the forest until the rumble of traffic and the hum of streetlights all faded into the eerie static silence that echoed around the bunker.

The bunker had fascinated Dess since she was Noelle’s age. A random emergency bunker in the middle of nowhere, sealed off, but still lined with bolts and panels like a military weapon? She’d spent so, so many hours studying war documentaries and survival guides, trying to find out what the bunker meant. Who built it? What war or emergency was it supposed to protect them from? What happened to them? 

And now, all too soon, here she and Azzy and Noelle were, trotting back up to it with one new member of the party: the gray-dusted human the bunker spat up like the lone survivor of an apocalypse. Like a messenger bearing news of old dooms and forgotten wars. 

Like an omen.

Dess and Azzy stared up at the bunker, neither daring to speak. The silence around it was so deep it sapped the words from their throats, muting everything into that static non-noise of a hum. It reminded Dess of the ozone gathering before a storm. Of the buzzing of the Dreemurr’s CRT TV as it powered up. Even, in a weird way, of Noelle’s dumb plastic baby tablet when it ran too long and got too warm, its little fans spitting out dust and cookie crumbs. 

For once, its doors were open. Rookie Officer Undyne must’ve been called in to rip through them, because they yawned on either side of the bunker like broken teeth, their edges jagged and sad where locks and panels used to be.

Every so often, the wind would shift and nudge one against the yellow police tape Officer Napstablook had put up to cordon off the space, and its rusted lines would scritch against plastic like a corpse trying to escape its body bag.

Dess couldn’t see much of the inside from here, but she remembered Uncle Asgore saying they’d searched it high and low. Concrete walls, wandering paths, rusty old mechanics and expired rations were all they found. No traces of humans. 

All the same, what little concrete and cement she could see through the yawning darkness itched at the back of her mind, somewhere in the ancient deer hindbrain that wanted to run away right now. The static and the emptiness and the stink of old air built up around them like the ghosts of ancient wars. 

...At least Noelle had already fallen asleep in Dess’s arms. Good. Dess didn’t really want her awake to look at this, if it could helped. New protector or no new protector.

Kris, however, seemed spurred awake by the humming. They squirmed in Azzy’s arms, a single eye squinting up at the bunker. It went wide as they took in the open doors, staring at the pitch black abyss beyond them in shock.

“Open,” Kris breathed.

“Yeah,” Azzy replied. “The police must’ve cracked it when searching for what happened to you.” 

Kris squirmed harder. “Is too soon. Too soon. Not right. Not ready.”

“You keep saying that.” Dess crossed her arms at them, frowning. “What does that even mean? Is there a time we were supposed to show up here? When there’s, what was it, flooding and roaring and all that?”

Kris didn’t respond, at first. Dess couldn’t see their eyes behind their hair, and the rest of their face seemed darker as well. As if they’d gone back to who they were when she first found them, blank-faced and standing still as a guard against the bunker doors.

Like when they’d been waiting for something to happen.

Kris tilted their head to her, then, and something in their expression seemed so much more resigned and heavy than a five-year-old should be. “Mmhmm. But... you wanna see it now. And... th’s vessel’s too weak to stop you.”

“Uh, yeah. Just so you know, I’m the leader of this little party. So if you know something, spill.”

“Dess...?” Azzy squeezed his arm, but Kris only nodded, mouth set in a grim line.

“If it’s your will, leader.” 

Something glinted in their hand, and Dess realized with a startled shout that it was her Swiss army knife. When the hell had they gotten that? Sure, she’d stopped focusing on it while carrying Noelle, and Asriel was right at her back, but they shouldn’t have been able to...

Shit, shit, they have a real knife, they’re gonna stab me for real this time, I’m really going to die, shit, I’m so sorry Noelle, Azzy, I messed up so bad--

Kris raised the knife. Their eye glinted, bright crimson against the dark. (How long had their eyes been red?)

Then, with a flash of silver light, they plunged the knife into the earth, right in front of the bunker.

And a gushing fountain of pure darkness came spewing out.

♡♥❤♥♡

Chapter Text

♡♥❤♥♡

* (The one certainty you can determine about the LIGHT WORLD is that it seems to thrive on cruel contradictions.) 

* (You were created to be a perfect vessel for a divine influence, yet were discarded too unfinished to be regarded as more than a toddling youth.) 

* (You are infuriated at your vessel’s profound uselessness, yet this exact underdevelopment is what has allowed it to grow enough under the DREEMURR’s care to start manifesting a SOUL of its own.)

* (Your new SOUL cares deeply for the DREEMURRs and the HOLIDAYs, especially your first and dearest friend DESS... and DESS wants nothing more than to crash through the BUNKER and kickstart the ROARING. Even your warnings about the end of the worlds, to both her and the small HOLIDAY, NOELLE, have only piqued her curiosity and reckless will.) 

* (For the good of this world, you have done your best to stop DESS. You have KICKED her, POISONED her, even STABBED her. You have closed off the budding objections of your SOUL and became a grim channel for the will of the PROPHECY.)

* (Yet the beast refuses to die. Is her POWER and DETERMINATION so great? Is your vessel so weak? Or are you holding yourself back, the reluctance in your SOUL withholding your damage potential?)

* (You don’t know... but it comes as a relief that she’s still alive. You have failed in your mission to protect this WORLD--to protect the DREEMURRs and the HOLIDAYs and all of HOMETOWN--yet the failure tastes like success.) 

* (Another cruel contradiction.)

* (Perhaps that’s what spurs you on to follow DESS’s orders, when you’ve exhausted all other options and she demands you show her the truth. Perhaps it’s just that she’s established herself as the PARTY LEADER, and in the careful directives you were programmed with, the PARTY LEADER’s rule is law. Perhaps you are simply tired and crabby.) 

* (Your vessel knows by default how to make a DARK FOUNTAIN. It is etched in the bone fragments and stitched tissues that give it form, matted in its muscle memory like damp hair. Hundreds of dead pieces of determination and willpower gather and are made manifest by your two-week-old SOUL. The darkness that spews from your stolen KNIFE is familiar as an old friend.) 

* (It is not good at making a DARK WORLD. You do not have enough imagination, enough experience, to overwrite the universe yet. In a way, this is ideal--the DARK FOUNTAIN you draw up is as pure as anyone in your party could summon.)

* (In another way, the effort drains your weak-weak-weak vessel, and you collapse.)

...

* (You wake up to shouting. ASRIEL’s voice. DESS’s voice. NOELLE’s voice.)

NOELLE says: “Lookit, look at me! I’m an angel! A real angel!”

ASRIEL says: “Oh no. Ohhh no. Our parents are gonna be so mad. W-what’s happening? Where are we?”

DESS says: “Okay, this is cool as hell.” 

* (You sit up.)

* (Your PARTY is standing on a grayish-violet plain of rocks and dirt, one of many shelves jutting out against sheer purple cliffs and a sky of infinite darkness. At the edge of your outcropping, several yards away, yet more darkness yawns below, lapping like waves against dusty motes and coughing gray brambles.)

* (They’ve changed, of course. In the neon blacklight of the DARK WORLD, ASRIEL’s green sweater and pressed slacks have shifted into a regal purple robe emblazoned with the DELTA RUNE. His white fur is traced with black markings, his horns arched high over his head. A set of elegant white RIFLEs criss-cross his back, their barrels fluttering with rainbows.) 

* (NOELLE’s paper mache wings have shifted into proper wings, feathers shimmering so white they appear blue against her billowing white lace dress. Her antlers have also grown, curving over her head in the rough shape of a halo. Her nose, once red, is now glowing a candy blue, and a silver RING glitters on one finger.) 

* (DESS, lastly, has settled into her party leader role with a fine suit of ebony armor, shoulder pauldrons jabbing out from either side over a chestplate marked with a single pale eye. Her fluff of dark hair is hidden behind a pointed armet helmet, its visor lifted to brush against the sharpened edges of her antlers.) 

* (You’re surprised, when you look down, to see you’ve changed as well... if only barely. The sweater you borrowed from ASRIEL has, on you, turned into a blue and pink tunic, draped jaggedly around your shoulders. Your velcro sneakers have turned into sturdy boots, tucked over pants and a shirt that actually fit your vessel, instead of bunching inconveniently around the hems as ASRIEL’s hand-me-downs do.)

* (You’re also still holding DESS’s KNIFE. In the dark, it’s turned the same ebony shade as her armor, an intense shade that seems edged with silver when you hold it up to the infinite void overhead.) 

* (You’re in the middle of turning it in your hands to admire each angle when ASRIEL’s big brother instincts at last catch up. He stumbles over to snatch the KNIFE from you, then catches himself again and puts a hand on your back.)

ASRIEL says: “Kris! Are you okay? What--what was that?” 

* (A pause. He sheepishly holds out the KNIFE to DESS.)

ASRIEL says: “Erm, sorry, I think this is yours? Maybe? It matches your... you.” 

* (DESS stomps over to steal it back, then lets out a startled noise as it shifts in her hand, from a small DAGGER to a LONGSWORD far more suitable for a knight.) 

DESS says: “Shit! I mean, yeah, I think? Is it weird to say it still kinda feels like my pocket knife...?”

YOU speak up. “It is your pocket knife. A reflection of it. Everything in the Dark World is a reflection of reality as you perceive it.”

* (ASRIEL helps you to your feet as DESS gapes.)

DESS says: “Hey, what the hell does that mean? Hey, what does that mean?”

* (You shrug. You don’t know how to make it any clearer.) 

* (...Huh, curious. Up ahead, a few yards down the length of gray outcropping, you can see a scattering of deep blue blocks, erratic and geometric compared to the mossy cliffs around you. They seem to form a squat hallway. The washed-out, uniform color and static humming reminds you somewhat of the games you played on ASRIEL’s device.)

* (Is that... a bit of your own imagination?)

* (You have an imagination??) 

NOELLE chirps: “Oh, this is like a pretend thing, right? Because I’m an angel, and Dess and Azzy are the Depths & Demons characters Azzy drew for his game thingy--”

ASRIEL’s face burns as he shushes her: “I-I don’t think it’s as simple as that, Noelle! But... I mean... now that you mention it, this does look just like Prince Varik’s holy robes. That’s so weird.” 

DESS snorts a laugh: “Wait, Varik? The God of Hyperdeath? Oh my god, you were seriously gonna make Varik the main character of your game?”

ASRIEL scowls back: “Yeah, so what? I’m not poisoned by irony like you. Varik is cool! Hyperdeath Gun Blaster is cool! People are gonna like it!” 

DESS rolls her eyes: “Azzy, no one wants to play as someone else’s overpowered Depths & Demons character.” 

NOELLE pops in: “Yeah, Dess wants to play as her Roaring Knight character!”

ASRIEL laughs: “Oh, yeah, because the Roaring Knight of ebony darkness and ten thousand blood crushing war murders is so much cooler. Definitely not just another way to be mad at your mom.”

NOELLE adds: “My character’s named Yuki-chan. She’s an angel who came to earth to be a pop star and a cat doctor.” 

DESS says: “Hey! That’s my fucking masterpiece, thank you! You don’t get it.”

ASRIEL says: “Oh yeah, I forgot the swears. The Roaring fucking Knight of ebony fuck-darkness and ten thousand fuck-murders, more like--” He clasps a hand over his mouth. “Um--I mean--I’m sorry! Kris, Noelle, forget I said those!”

NOELLE, oblivious, continues: “She has white wings, but when she gets mad they can get really big and turn sharp like demon wings because she’s so strong, also she can shoot blizzards out of her hands and summon all her Cat Petterz cats as her friends against evil stuff.”

YOU want to contribute, so you nod at NOELLE and add: “That’s so cool. A perfect design. You understand the nature of these worlds well.” 

NOELLE beams. “Thank you! I drew her once if you wanna see!”

YOU say: “Of course.” 

NOELLE says: “Also, thank you for making her real with your demon magic stuff!” 

YOU say: “Is a pleasure.”

DESS cuts in: “Okay, hang on. We’re losing focus. Varik, Yuki, Knight, who cares.”

* (A hand grips your shoulder, turning you away from NOELLE and towards the group as a whole. DESS smiles, but there’s no real humor in it. All teeth.)

DESS says: “Start talking, creep baby. How did you do this?”

* (Again, you blink up at her in confusion. Did she not witness you stab the earth?)

YOU say: “I gathered my determination and pierced the earth. This allowed the dark water that flows beneath this world to burst forth in a fountain and cover this area in shadows deeper than dark. In its negative blacklight, everything we see and are becomes distorted.” 

* (A long, awkward silence follows as the rest of the party takes in this information. You try to give them patience as you catch your breath, your vessel's muscles unused to talking so much. If they’ve lived their entire lives in the Light World, it’s possible that even the existence of the dark water might be baffling to realize.)

* (Ridiculous, honestly. What is light without dark? What is color without its inversion? Did they really think their whole lives existed without an inverted parallel? Where did they think their imaginations even came from?) 

* (Finally, DESS grasps your other shoulder, too tight. She stares down at you with wide, wild eyes.)

DESS says: “Kris.”

YOU say: “Yes.”

DESS says: “Krismas.”

YOU say: “Yes.”

DESS says: “Kid.”

* (You don’t say anything. She squeezes your shoulders tighter, until her hands tremble.)

DESS says, through her teeth: “That explained literally nothing.” 

* (Again, you shrug. You did your best.)

* (She’s about to start shaking you, but ASRIEL intervenes, swooping forth in a trail of rainbow and scooping you into his arms, away from her manic grip.) 

ASRIEL scolds: “Dess, no, they’re literally five years old!” 

YOU correct: “I am fourteen days old.” 

ASRIEL, also sounding a bit manic, says: “Y-you know that’s worse, right? That’s much worse?” 

DESS, for her part, spreads her arms. “Don’t defend the little creep! They’re the one that did this! What if we’re trapped here?! Shit, shit, I brought Noelle with. I have to fix this.” 

YOU say: “You asked me to ‘spill’.”

DESS shouts: “Spill the truth, not--shit--spill a fountain of darker-than-darkness across the earth! What the hell?! I didn’t even know that was an option!” 

YOU say: “Ignorance was not a consideration in the decision.” 

DESS hisses: “Ignor--okay, what the hell. Why do you hate me, anyway?!” 

* (Hate her? The accusation stings more than you expected. Your eyes water as you blink at her, lip trembling. Your SOUL aches.)

YOU say, confused: “I... I don’t hate you? You’re the first friend I ever made. I love you.” 

* (But DESS brushes this off with a snort.)

DESS says: “Yeah, sure. That’s why you tried to kill me, like, four times.”

* (Another ache in your SOUL. You’re starting to get used to the strange, visceral reactions SOULs have to this world, but it still hurts to bear.) 

YOU say: “You were trying to bring the end of the world. I told you to stop and you didn’t. I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want the world to end, either.” Your voice cracks. “I did something wrong, I think...” 

* (This, at least, seems to pacify DESS’s wrath a fraction. Her nose twitches as she glares, but the manic intensity to the glare is gone. Her shoulders slump, pauldrons clanking as she steps closer and lets out a frustrated sigh.)

ASRIEL suggests, in his soothing voice: “Hey. I don’t think Dess knew asking for the truth would lead to the end of the world. All she was trying to do was help you. Just like Dad did when investigating, remember?” 

YOU sniffle. “Dad gave up by the time I realized I could act against what you were doing. Didn’t need to stop him.” 

ASRIEL says: “You don’t need to stop us, either. Just... talk to us, okay? I know all this Dark Fountain stuff must seem obvious to you... for some reason... but we don’t know any of it. So if we talk, we can figure it out together and not hurt each other.”

* (Even DESS seems reassured by ASRIEL’s words. She puts a hand on your head, but in a pat instead of a grasp.)

DESS says: “Hey. You were trying to stop me so bad. But when I told you to spill, you said that whole, ‘if it’s your will, leader’ thing and did this, anyway. So... what changed your mind?”

YOU shrug. “Nothing. Have to listen to the party leader. It’s a rule.” 

DESS hums: “Huh. So if I said, like, ‘stop trying to kill me’?” 

YOU nod. “Wouldn’t have been able to attempt to hurt you.”

DESS glances at ASRIEL. “Did I ever say that? Pretty sure I did.” 

But ASRIEL shakes his head. “If anything, you said it was too bad they didn’t kill you.”

DESS grimaces. “Shit. I’m rock stupid. Well! Don’t kill me. That’s a new rule, from now on. Don’t kill Azzy or Elly, while we’re at it.”

NOELLE, who’d been thoughtfully quiet all the while, whines. “I’m glad you’re not killed, Dess.”

DESS ruffles her hair. “Don’t sweat it. Takes more than a robot kindergartener to kill me.”

ASRIEL hums. “I still have a lot of questions. Maybe we should start there? You said ‘it’s a rule’, Kris. What rule? Who, um... programmed that into you?”

* (You think this over, long and hard. Flashes of memories come to you: dark water. Static. Murmuring. A sense of pieces. A sense of a line and line and line of pieces.) 

* (After a minute, you shake your head.)

YOU say: “Don’t... remember. It feels like it’s always been a part of... of who I am. As a vessel.” 

ASRIEL murmurs: “A vessel?”

YOU nod. “There is an ancient prophecy in this world. It says... many things.” 

* (You cough. You’re not used to talking this much. It hurts your vessel’s dry throat.)

Still, YOU continue: “It says that one day, the balance of light and dark in this world will shift, and the dark fountains will... will crack open the earth and swallow it in darkness. It is called the Roaring. On such a day, only those trained by the Prophecy--a Cage with human SOUL and parts, a Prince alone in deepest dark, a Girl with hope crossed on her heart--will have the tools necessary to seal the darkness again and prevent the earth’s collapse.” 

DESS mutters: “Man.” 

ASRIEL nods. “Man.”

YOU nod back. “I don’t... remember everything. Was supposed to be... to be blinded and deafened to my creation. But I think... I was supposed to be a Cage. An empty vessel to be controlled by any chosen human SOUL, once the shifting began.”

* (ASRIEL doesn’t respond, but his grip tightens around you, his mouth thinning into a tight line.) 

* (DESS, in contrast, looks angry again, pacing back and forth.)

DESS says: “So, what? Some old human creeps were afraid of this dark fountain stuff ending the world, so they just brainwashed a toddler to be their obedient super soldier?” 

YOU shrug once again. “Don’t know what happened. Wasn’t supposed to be so... child-like, I think. Think I failed somehow and was... discarded early.” 

* (YOU cough again, voice rasping on the last words as your traitorous SOUL aches and your eyes water. ASRIEL rubs a thumb against your upper arm as you scrub your face with your tunic, trying to compose yourself.)

* (This would’ve been easier two weeks ago. A recitation of facts, nothing more. You’re so full of FEELINGS now that it makes your chest hurt, and every old fact tears like a new wound.)

* (Said aloud like this, in this circle of other children, what happened to you doesn’t sound like a natural part of the PROPHECY. It sounds, all at once, like a perversion of the PROPHECY’s intent. Wrong, even.)

* (Your existence feels wrong.)

DESS growls. “So they took a look at the weird, gray, obedient lab baby they’d made, realized they’d messed up, and threw you away? That’s such bullshit! Way to take responsibility, creeps!” 

ASRIEL nods along, but his voice is softer. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Kris. We didn’t know. We should... we need to tell Dad, I think.” 

* (You grasp the collar of his robes, eyes wide. Your throat hurts, but you still try and speak.)

YOU say: “N-no. Please. The earth is thinner in the bunker. It’s underground, over the Depths itself. If they prod around here again with enough determination...”

(You trail off, coughing.)

ASRIEL finishes for you: “It’ll throw off the balance and bring the earth closer to the Roaring, right? And we don’t have the tools to stop that right now. You’re a little kid, and the other two aren’t here.” He bites his lip. “That was what you were afraid of Dess doing, wasn’t it...?” 

YOU nod, sniffling. “‘M sorry. Didn’t want her flood the town. Or end up here alone with no way to seal it.”

DESS flaps a hand. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re forgiven, I guess. Sounds like you got enough going on. More importantly: we did just prod the earth with determination. Right now. So, are we screwed now?” 

YOU grimace, but shake your head. “No. This is just the bunker entrance. Not the Depths. And... I can seal it, I think.”

DESS says: “Great. Do that, then. Plug up the leak with a big fantasy cork or whatever you use.”

* (Your SOUL flutters with irritation. You swallow it down.)

YOU say: “Not that simple. Have to get to the fountain. Over there.” 

(You point towards the blue blocks ahead, jittering with static. Overhead, a pulsing rainbow of purples and blues flows against the infinite sky.) 

* (DESS sighs... then grins, twirling her sword in her hand.)

DESS says: “Sounds like a quest, then. What d’ya say, Prince Varik of Hyperdeath? Ready to kick some ass in another campaign?”

* (ASRIEL’s fur puffs around his cheeks, but he smiles shyly back, his braces glittering like tiny engraved stars against his teeth.)

ASRIEL says: “Hmm... yeah. I think I can manage a quick one-shot before bed. If you’re gonna twist my arm about it. Can you hop on my back and hand me those guns, Kris?”

* (It takes some maneuvering, but ASRIEL crouches down and is patient while you crawl your way up the straps and guards along his back. Once you have a firm hand on his shoulder, you tug a RIFLE free with your other, passing them over to him one at a time.) 

* (It’s... difficult to describe the emotion he expresses as he straightens up, you on his back and a rifle cocked in either hand. His tail is wagging furiously, and there’s a manic sort of joy in his grin, in his wild red eyes.)

* (In the shiny reflection of one RIFLE barrel, you notice your eyes have also turned red, here. It’s a stark contrast from the blues and pinks of your tunic, but... it matches your horns. And it matches your brother.) 

* (For the first time since you were adopted into the DREEMURR family, a part of you looks like them. The thought warms your aching, tired SOUL, and you grip ASRIEL’s shoulders tighter.)

ASRIEL says: “I shouldn’t really, um, encourage reckless gun safety. But--”

DESS, twirling her SWORD along her arm, says: “But it’s badass, yeah?” 

ASRIEL smirks. “Yeah. Let’s go take this fountain down.”

DESS grins back. “Hell yeah! C’mon, Noelle, let’s--"

* (She freezes. The SWORD tumbles from her grip, clattering against the soil, as you all come to the same horrifying realization at once.)

* (NOELLE isn’t here.)

(She wandered off at some point, bored and distracted from your explanation of the Dark World.)

* (The excitement in your SOUL boils over into dread as you grip ASRIEL’s shoulders tight. Your voice comes out in a low hiss.)

YOU say: “Need to find her. Now. There’s enemies in the Dark World. She isn’t ready to face them.”

DESS curses under her breath, then aloud: “Shit. Noelle? Noelle!” 

* (In reply, a sharp, jingling scream cuts through the air, echoing from the blocky hallway ahead. You catch a flicker of yellow jagged edges, a wink of red eyes, movement. An enemy.) 

* (Before you can say a word, DESS and ASRIEL are rushing forward, guns and swords blazing. DESS shouts something--“OUTTA OUR WAY!”--and it disintegrates instantly into a fine red mist before her SWORD. A rush of POWER passes through the party as you all sprint ahead. You barely notice.)

* (You need to rescue NOELLE.)

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