* Smells like salty slush.

[bleakdrake]

It stands near the edge. Not for any particular reason; the edge is merely where they first appeared.

She's barely aware of the change, expressions as blank as they could manage. The clouds are close enough to the room in the Lab where it stayed that they're almost comfortable, or at least as comfortable as a mass of creatures fused together and kept from their families (and so losing itself) could ever possibly be.

Anyone else stumbling over them, however, will likely be...far more uncomfortable. An icy-dusty-melting creature, looming in the foggy banks where it'll seem she simply appears despite not moving a step.

The only warning--the only clue that she's even there for those not particularly searching for something along the edge--that they're there is her voice, cracking and exhausted and chilling, drifting over the wind.

"Sn...ow...y..."

Comments

[justletmewin]

Asriel's exploration of the island eventually takes him to the Edge. The closest he got to seeing this much fog in his life was the blizzard connecting Snowdin and Waterfall. He had always assumed that the clouds in his books or pictures of the sky was made of a more solid matter, like cotton candy. He'd been a little disappointed when Chara told him you couldn't touch clouds; he liked his view better. He woke up in his father's garden, not the True Lab, so Asriel wasn't as familiar with the place as he ought to be, nor did he know about the Amalgamates...

His fur stands on end at the sound of her voice, his hands shaking while his eyes become mere pinpricks. "Who... Who's there?"

[bleakdrake]

She barely reacts. He hasn't gotten close enough for them to see yet, and it won't do much when there's only sound.

"Sn...ow...y..." she calls again.

[justletmewin]

"A-Are you lost? I-I can help you out of this place! I can, I... can..." How does he lead someone out of fog though? He still can't see... Snowy, or whoever that is. His mother once said if he ever got lost, like in the Ruins for example, it was best to stay in one place until someone found you. (But nobody came.) So maybe if he waited and kept calling out, whoever that voice is will follow him.

[bleakdrake]

"...Sn...ow...y...?"

It seems slightly aware that there's some sort of change, now. She hears his voice, even if they can't decipher the words or the meaning of his tone.

Asriel will hear a strange, heavy-sounding thud; the sound of her footstep as she turns to peer into the fog in his direction.

[justletmewin]

The thud makes him jump, but he knows the direction the voice is coming from now. Any moment, they'll be coming for him. No matter how terrified he is, he's rooted (ha ha... ha ha... but it's not funny) to the spot. This person--monster--human?--needed him. He won't abandon them. He won't leave them behind.

[bleakdrake]

The wait will be agonizingly long. It has no reason to move. She can't hear anything more. But some of them want to investigate, noticing that something is wrong--with their feet, at the very least; there's something fibrous tickling at the bottom of them, their talons and the part of them that spills across the floor. Because of course it's a floor. Nearly all of their memories are only of the lab.

Eventually, though, the creeping curiosity wins out.

With a horrible noise every step--and a growing sense of cold--she lumbers toward him through the fog.

[justletmewin]

Oh god oh god oh god oh god.

His hands rise to his mouth to contain the cry bubbling in his throat. Was this... Mrs. Drake? He and Chara didn't play much with Snowdrake, but he remembered his mom being nice. There may be other monsters he recognizes too, but they're all gooped together with... her? Them?

"H-H-Hi... I... I don't know if you r-remember me..."

[bleakdrake]

She lowers its body to look at him better.

They don't know him, not in the way he knows her. A familiar chord is struck within her at the sight of his fur--white, like something she'd seen before, like protection from the something-she'd-seen-before, the cold that's too much and not enough and she needs and they hate.

"Sn..ow..."

The Amalgamate pushes forward, nearly bumping him with their melting beak.

[justletmewin]

Her touch is like melting ice cream and it sticks in his sweater and his fur, chilling him to the bone in more ways than one.

"I-It'll be okay, Mrs. Drake! We'll find someone at the castle who can help you! There's got to be a way. There has to be a way! Here... I'll lead you out..."

He takes her wing (hand? twig? neither? all?) and slowly guides her through the fog. It melts all over his hand, and it takes everything in his power not to pull back in revulsion. Nor does he try not to dwell on the possibility that he could get glued to her--them?--too.

dangit too used to frisk's small html tags

[bleakdrake]

'Help'. Very little could help them, but the word reminds her of one who tried: "Doc...tor?"

A few steps in, something that feels like fingers wraps around his. Something that wasn't from Frostdrake, as she never had hands in that way, but whichever part of it that caused the action gained comfort from the gesture.

Perhaps he'll feel that way--but he's better at handling Determination now. Hopefully. He hasn't melted yet, after all.

"Sn..." Her voice trails off.

[justletmewin]

"A doctor? I can take you to see one. They might be living in the castle."

A few minutes pass while they're walking in the fog, but Asriel's nerves have sloughed off like melting snow. While her appearance still terrified him, she wasn't so bad. She turned out to be completely harmless, and she might be as scared as he is, if even more so. There's nothing to be afraid of, and he'll explain that to everyone when they're finally out of the Edge.

[bleakdrake]

She doesn't reply with words, but they croon together. Hopefully it sounds more soothing than nightmarish, or at least communicates her happiness. At least the Doctor has food! Though it's rarely healthy food these days, it's better than nothing.

[sansational]

Sans doesn't venture near the edge very much. He doesn't like the thoughts that tend to enter his head when he does. Doesn't like to consider the possibilities.

It's curiosity that brings him nearer today. The fog seems particularly thick around here, despite the fact that it's still all blue skies and sun overhead. Maybe they're sinking, maybe this is what a storm looks like when it's first building, maybe a dozen other strange possibilities. It couldn't hurt to check.

And so, watching his step very carefully, Sans creeps into the fog bank.

He feels her presence before he sees their shape looming up through the fog. And even just the first feel of her soul makes him stop dead, one hand flying to his ribcage as though to shield his own soul from it. He looks up to see a mess of a silhouette looming out of the fog. He's sure they weren't there before.

Ever since Frisk first told him that amalgams could possibly exist, they've featured quite heavily in Sans' nightmares.

The reality of being confronted with one is so, so much worse.

(So cold so alone so lost where are you...)

Sans has to take several deep breaths before he can even will himself to speak, let alone call out a stumbling: "h-hello...?"

[bleakdrake]

There's no visible reaction for a time.

He can see what she looks like, now. Frostdrake, Snowdrake's mother, whose passing ripped her family apart. Except even her silhouette is wrong, ragged and a full 'drake head taller than she'd been before, and somehow at the same time almost humanoid if he doesn't focus.

"Sn...ow...y..."

A part of them realizes there's something else closer, a SOUL not unlike what it once had, when she wasn't so many.

A bullet appears to explore, but it doesn't go anywhere near him. It doesn't go anywhere. The blade simply hovers in place s҉o҉m҉e҉w҉h҉e҉r҉e҉ that can't be touched.

[sansational]

They hadn't lived in Snowdin for very long before she'd fallen down. She'd still taken care to welcome them when they'd first arrived. They'd still had the chance to see what a good soul she'd had, and at least begin to appreciate the loss. Once or twice, they'd even tried to check in or bring dinner over, as good neighbors should. Sans had struggled to explain to Papyrus what was happening, during that horrible period of waiting that came whenever a monster fell. He'd never been sure if his brother hadn't understood, or had understood too well.

Of all the monsters from home that he thought might appear here, he'd never expected her, and he'd never expected this...

...Snowy. Sans doesn't have a stomach, but he's nevertheless dizzyingly certain for a moment that he's about to be sick, to the point that he presses a hand over his mouth to try and swallow it back.

And Sans is so on edge that he does flinch back when that bullet appears, before it sinks in that she probably couldn't attack him even if they wanted to. From there, every step is an effort, but he slowly and cautiously creeps a little nearer.

"mrs. drake...?"

God, what had her full name been? It takes him a second and a genuine struggle to recall it. Then Sans takes a deep breath, and tries again. "frostdrake?" They're obviously not just frostdrake anymore, but he doesn't know what else to say or who else to call for or if that would help anything at all. "do you know who i am?"

[bleakdrake]

Slowly, they take a step in his direction. Its footstep is loud, and somehow it crunches and squishes at the same time.

Her expression shifts, but to what? Even she can't be sure--she never is--but the sound of drake, if nothing else, stands out as a word. An important one.

There's no voice to call out to her son this time, but all their eyes are on Sans.

[sansational]

Sans likes to consider himself pretty good at reading faces. It especially helps that he'd had plenty of time to practice on most of the people of Snowdin. Except for her. Except for this. Sans winces, ducking his head and tensing noticeably at the sound of that step. Wrong, all of this is wrong, and a part of him wants to run away and a part of him just wants to curl up on the ground and sob and a part of him just wants to laugh and n _e v _e r _s t _o p . . .

"your son...s-snowy isn't here, mrs. drake." And then Sans' nerve fails him entirely, and he stammers on: "yet, i mean. he, uh...h-he isn't here yet."

That is not technically a lie. Sans stubbornly insists to himself that it's not. There have to be plenty of timelines where Snowdrake didn't die alone and scared like every other monster in those woods. There is no reason he couldn't turn up besides that utter bastard known as the law of probability.

"if you just, uh...if you just f-follow me, i can take you somewhere safe, to wait for him."

He can't imagine Frostdrake wouldn't be in favor of that, but he wonders if its other component parts will be on board.

[bleakdrake]

They distantly realize his distress, but they have few thoughts about what that means. The others like it were often in distressed states, especially the one that smelled sweet.

Her expression shifts a little more. Snowy, the most important word. She takes another horrible-wrong step--the rest of them have no reason not to go along with her. They can barely think on their own.

"Sn...ow...y..."

The words are enough to cut through their haze, and she realizes something--this isn't...right. This monster in front of them isn't many, and this one SOUL isn't...

"Doc...tor...?"

[sansational]

She's not dangerous. He realizes it with a lurching feeling of shock, as they shamble nearer. She's...horrible, and sad, in the way that death and sickness and despair itself are horrible and sad. But that's...that's not it's fault.

He takes a step nearer to her, trying to get near enough to be visible through the fog, trying to look them in...what seem to be the most defined set of eyes.

"no. i'm...i'm not doctor alphys. i'm not the one who usually takes care of you. she isn't here...yet...either. but i...i can still try and help you." How, or even if that's possible, he has no possible idea. But Sans buries his fists in his pockets, and forces himself to carry on: "i want to try and help you. okay?"

[bleakdrake]

A few more spinning blades appear as they sink down to look at him better, flying off into the sky. Seems it doesn't notice.

She doesn't recognize him, though words are filtering in better, even some with their meanings.

"No...humming?"

No, they aren't where they were. She can't hear the other refrigerators running. They're only now noticing that things are even more different than before.

"Where...?" Leaves or feathers (or both or neither) rustle in confusion.

[sansational]

Those spinning blades probably aren't dangerous to most people. But a lot of things are dangerous to Sans that aren't dangerous to most people. He tries to keep an eye on all of them as they appear - after all, there's no telling how much she is paying attention or even how much they can. And there's no point in dying just because he accidentally walks into one that she doesn't think to move.

"we're...we're really far from home. far from the underground. up on the surface." Not that he's sure if that will matter to it now. "i don't know much else. i'm sorry."

[bleakdrake]

Her bullets move in ways that most don't, but they're mostly slow, easy to dodge.

The surface. That's a word she knows--

The reason they hadn't died was for the surface. The Doctor's experiments. Researching ways to break the barrier with their SOULs, they were told before it failed catastrophically. It's one of the few memories they all still have, all nearly share, Alphys greeting each of them as they awoke the first time and explaining what she was trying.

It gave them all hope.

"De...term..."

She doesn't know how to explain this, can barely grasp it, but reacts by straightening up as much as they're able. If it was on the surface...something must've gone right.

[sansational]

Sans stares up at it for a moment, until he realizes what they're trying to say. His shoulders slump in something like resignation, and he nods miserably. "...determination. yeah."

A force that Sans isn't sure has ever done any good anymore. you'll keep going, just because you think you can. and because you "can"...you "have to" She doesn't need to explain it.

But at least it seems as though they're starting to fully understand where they are. That's genuinely heartening to see, and Sans manages something more like a normal smile. He half turns away, motioning for her to follow. "c'mon. i'll show you around if you follow me. it's...nicer further in, than it is over here. you can see the sky."

[bleakdrake]

Their footsteps still sound terrible, of course, but they come a little more quickly. She has reason and desire to follow him now, even if those are somewhat more in relation to his tone than his words.

"Sur...face...?" she murmurs to themselves with echoes of shock-confusion-glee-curiosity.

A few times, she'll almost seem to stop, the noises going silent--but if Sans looks behind himself, it'll still be keeping up closely.

[sansational]

Whenever she does stop, Sans stops as well. He looks back at them, but they're always right where he expects it to be, visible through the fog. He still waits patiently until she starts shambling after him again, and only then does he turn away and carry on.

Eventually, the fog begins to thin and fade around them. The trees of the forest become visible in the distance, and slowly, the warmth of the sunlight starts to filter down again. When the mist is nothing more than tattered shreds around them, Sans stops again. He looks back at Frostdrake, and gesture up at the vast expanse of blue sky overhead.

"ta-da."

[bleakdrake]

It takes a few moments for all the separate minds to register what he means, which results in her head very slowly bobbing before properly angling upwards--and then they all gasp, nearly falling as vertigo hits them.

Their form is lost a little, and it's so beautiful, and they chatter to themselves. Sans will catch snatches of words in a few different voices, like blue and up and worked, worked, worked and then they're standing up, a leafy-feathered wing reaching (stretching) as if trying to touch a few whispy clouds above.

[sansational]

Despite himself, Sans smiles, and it doesn't even hurt to do so. It's a little hard to tell on that face, but that definitely seems to be a basically happy sort of reaction. "yeah," he murmurs, staring up at the sky with her. "blue, blue, blue." He hadn't previously thought that anything quite so blue could ever possibly exist, before coming here.

On a whim, he sits himself down on the grass. They might need a minute or two to properly get oriented, and it's not as though he's really in a rush to go anywhere or lead them anywhere. They can enjoy the weather for a little bit, if she wants to.

"we don't know where we are, or where the underground is in relation to any of this. but there are definitely worse places to get stuck all over again."

[mediadarling]

"Sn...ow...y..."

Mettaton stumbles mid-stride, only just righting himself in time before he falls. Oh...oh. He knows that voice. After Alphys had told him just how the amalgamates like Lemon Bread had come to be, she'd taken him to meet the others.

Frostdrake...had made an impression. He'd been able to comfort himself with the knowledge that she was back with her family, but, unless he's missed a great deal of going-ons lately...that's not the case here.

He draws himself upright. Well, he can hardly leave her alone. He can only hope she'll remember him.

"Frostdrake, darling, where are you?"

[bleakdrake]

Frostdrake-- a familiar word. Not as familiar as it could be, as it should be, but it's enough to get their attention.

Again, it calls the only word she remembers best for now: "Sn...ow...y..."

[mediadarling]

It's enough for him to work out the right direction to go, at least. It takes him a moment, but he makes himself take that first step forward, and then the next, and the next.

"I'm coming, sweetheart. Just stay where you are, all right?"

[bleakdrake]

They do. There's nowhere for her to go, after all.

A few of its bullets make their way through the fog.

...They probably won't help him find her. The way the spinning blades move don't make much sense.