Frisk, smiling, holds their cell phone tight. Voices chatter from it, and you find you know whose, even though you have no memory of when you met the owners' before. The cheery loudness of Papyrus; the somewhat more aggressive loudness of Undyne; the nervous stutter of Alphys; the calm, soothing words of Toriel; the understated chuckle of Sans; the regal pronunciations of Asgore; and even quiet, matching murmurs of Asriel and Chara.
Abruptly, they turn to you. "Who d'you want to visit first?"
B-the city
Between the skyscrapers and mountains, the sky is mostly grey, a few tears of blue visible between the clouds. Cars inch along in the road beside you, people part around you. You're on the sidewalk. All the peoples' faces are shadowed.
Papers flutter down the street. Cans clang as they roll and are kicked by careless passing feet. The air smells like fried food.
"Tickets!" a man booms from somewhere underground. Not too far away, there are stairs down leading to a subway.
Children laugh around the corner. There's a playground there. It's in the middle of the road, but none of the cars seem to care, driving beneath the massive jungle gyms and swings and slides.
The streetlights flicker, unsure of the time. Glimpsing reflections in the windows of the stores and homes show a child in different colors: green, blue, yellow, pink. They don't look at you, but they don't leave your side as you walk through the streets.
C-amalgams
You can only see a few feet in front of you, grimy floor tiles lit by green monitors filled with unintelligible text. Frisk is beside you, but they're not paying attention. They're just moving forward, eyes filled with tears.
Your companion is silent, but the lab is far from it. Your echoing footsteps slowly uncover other sounds. Distorted howls paired with the buzzing of ventilation fans. Twisted voices layering over each other, pleading and croaking and strident. A gasping, broken word, the speaker (if there is one) on the edge of tears. Staticky screaming. Wrathful hissing.
And yet, you can't see what's doing it. Whoever--whatever--are speaking is still up ahead, where they're leading you.
But you can't go back, even if you try. You're stuck with Frisk.
D-determination
Spears tear after Frisk, over and over and over and over. One rips through their chest with a terrible spray of blood, but then everything goes dark and you're both back at the edge of Waterfall, staring up determinedly, stepping forward again--
--or maybe you're standing in a foggy field in Snowdin, watching them trip over bones until they fall to their knees--
--or perhaps you're cheering in a crowed in front of the TV and somehow just to the side all at once, watching the human get zapped over and over even as they pose and scoff and make you cheer harder--
--or maybe you're standing in a city in shades of grey, or purple, and you're waiting for the child in front of you to give up or die or both--
--they're in your way. Or you're in theirs. Either way, if they get out, all scraps of hope the underground has mustered will be lost. Stop them.
no subject
Frisk, smiling, holds their cell phone tight. Voices chatter from it, and you find you know whose, even though you have no memory of when you met the owners' before. The cheery loudness of Papyrus; the somewhat more aggressive loudness of Undyne; the nervous stutter of Alphys; the calm, soothing words of Toriel; the understated chuckle of Sans; the regal pronunciations of Asgore; and even quiet, matching murmurs of Asriel and Chara.
Abruptly, they turn to you. "Who d'you want to visit first?"
B-the city
Between the skyscrapers and mountains, the sky is mostly grey, a few tears of blue visible between the clouds. Cars inch along in the road beside you, people part around you. You're on the sidewalk. All the peoples' faces are shadowed.
Papers flutter down the street. Cans clang as they roll and are kicked by careless passing feet. The air smells like fried food.
"Tickets!" a man booms from somewhere underground. Not too far away, there are stairs down leading to a subway.
Children laugh around the corner. There's a playground there. It's in the middle of the road, but none of the cars seem to care, driving beneath the massive jungle gyms and swings and slides.
The streetlights flicker, unsure of the time. Glimpsing reflections in the windows of the stores and homes show a child in different colors: green, blue, yellow, pink. They don't look at you, but they don't leave your side as you walk through the streets.
C-amalgams
You can only see a few feet in front of you, grimy floor tiles lit by green monitors filled with unintelligible text. Frisk is beside you, but they're not paying attention. They're just moving forward, eyes filled with tears.
Your companion is silent, but the lab is far from it. Your echoing footsteps slowly uncover other sounds. Distorted howls paired with the buzzing of ventilation fans. Twisted voices layering over each other, pleading and croaking and strident. A gasping, broken word, the speaker (if there is one) on the edge of tears. Staticky screaming. Wrathful hissing.
And yet, you can't see what's doing it. Whoever--whatever--are speaking is still up ahead, where they're leading you.
But you can't go back, even if you try. You're stuck with Frisk.
D-determination
Spears tear after Frisk, over and over and over and over. One rips through their chest with a terrible spray of blood, but then everything goes dark and you're both back at the edge of Waterfall, staring up determinedly, stepping forward again--
--or maybe you're standing in a foggy field in Snowdin, watching them trip over bones until they fall to their knees--
--or perhaps you're cheering in a crowed in front of the TV and somehow just to the side all at once, watching the human get zapped over and over even as they pose and scoff and make you cheer harder--
--or maybe you're standing in a city in shades of grey, or purple, and you're waiting for the child in front of you to give up or die or both--
--they're in your way. Or you're in theirs. Either way, if they get out, all scraps of hope the underground has mustered will be lost. Stop them.