living skyward

A silence, strained, like a knife trapped between ribs: pulling, pulling, and trying to come free.

Slowly:

F r i s k
i am fire spilled on you
i am your burning until consumed and ashes
i am irreversible

The fragment inside their chest shifts, ever so slightly, ever so gingerly: a twang of sudden and unnatural motion. It stops.

should not have
everything scared and eaten everything hot and ashes except—
frisk
i should not have and i'm sorry

Judgement's eye approaches, and the heat of its gaze blossoms in the fragment.

DRIFTER;
GUARDIAN;
coming.
substrate; extinguisher
hide from me
and do not fight, and show not mercy
do nothing to them so that nothing will kill me.