Every fairytale needs a villain, right?

[buttercup_eater]

[[Closed to dustless and sansational, sorry!]]

What

the hell

was that?

It's this thought that echoes above all else in Chara's mind, even after waking up in a chilly stone chamber that definitely isn't anywhere in the Underground.

What the hell was that- why SPARE Sans, why throw away everything they'd worked for, did the other kid somehow get through to them, what kind of stupid, pointless decision was that?

They mull over the subject for a while, glaring at the ceiling, before realizing their partner has yet to direct them the way they normally would. That... complicates matters.

The first thing Chara does is sit up, and in the process their gaze drifts over their chest, and they can see green and gold. They're wearing a sweater much like the ones they used to wear, Chara realizes. And when they look at their hands they can see that the skin tone and the shape of them has changed. These are their old hands. Except they can't be because their original hands would have rotted away a long time ago.

Right, first priorities first: Chara can still feel the locket beating away, and a cursory glance around the room reveals the real knife resting nearby. There isn't much else in the chamber of interest, so they grasp the handle and get to their feet.

Now appropriately equipped, Chara heads to the door and strolls silently out into the empty hallways.

They can still fulfill their purpose. There's always a way- they just have to find it.

Comments

violence and gore galore

[dustless]

Frisk is not paying attention.

Why would they? This castle has been kind so far. Nothing dangerous. Not really. S-4 and Sans-Serif were close, but now they're friends, so those problems were long since dealt with.

So their thoughts are more occupied on the reminders of Sans' party thing as they wander through the castle. Specifically, on the food. They'd had too much. Not enough to make them actually be sick, but enough to make them feel sick, enough that they were probably not going to have another dessert for a long time. (Other than pie.) But they're also getting sick of the stuff the garden supplies.

In short, they're just looking for a kitchen, peering into every door they pass instead of focusing on whoever's walking down the hall. The one they shared with another friend a while ago seems to have moved.

[sansational]

The castle has been kind, and that almost dooms him. Children with striped shirts have become a curiosity at least and his friends at best. His brother is here, in a way. There's even another him that Sans can maybe help avoid make all the mistakes he made. Days go by in order. He's gotten used to the sight of the sky.

There are good days where that golden hallway seems very far away. Where he can forget the child he killed so many times that he lost count.

Right now, all Sans is thinking about is varying his nap spots. Variety is important in life, after all. He's been here long enough to know that, at this precise time of day, the way the sun falls in through the high windows makes the sills quite pleasantly warm. If he tucks himself into a corner just so, he can look out on the gardens as he drifts off.

A small skeleton in a reasonably large hallway, he might not be immediately seen at first.

But he feels the child's approach, enough that his eyesockets suddenly fly open wide and dark even before Sans realizes why.