Silence drowns any and every voice, embracing existence itself like a warm, too-heavy blanket; it is not the kind of silence that the happy gray clouds bring along with the gentle snow, however. No, it seems the silence has become the very air itself, making the monsters of Snowdin wonder if there is a catastrophe afoot.
That is, the handful of monsters that are left around covering in fear, awaiting their unavoidable deaths with aching trembles rocking their hearts.
Moreover, the said catastrophe is indeed afoot, to the monsters' dismay. An eerie hum echoes through the near-empty town lazily, announcing the arrival of the long awaited angel before their light footsteps do, "Are you coming to the tree?" it sings with all the innocence of a prepubescent's voice.
Sound of skipping steps on the snow. A child no older than ten paces the bright white path, their hair bobbing ever so rhythmically as they make their way through the chilling breeze, leaving tiny footprints on the otherwise untouched snow. "Where they strung up a man they say who murdered three."
The chilling winds of Snowdin stand no chance against the cold heart of this genocidal psychopath that is currently on the loose, talk about wolf in sheep's disguise. "Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be."
Calling Frisk a sheep would be a blatant lie, though. Chara lets one of their many empty grins adorn the face that is now theirs as try to get comfortable in their stolen body, "If we met at midnight in the hanging tree." The tan face has a blush on its cheeks that is reminiscent of Chara's now-rotten body thanks to the cold. Getting that annoying brat to give up their body had surely not been an easy task. Chara must admit, they were quite impressed by their former host's fixation on hunting down each and every monster in the Ruins; and the way they slayed Toriel… Chara shudders and lets out a pleased sigh, their grin growing wider. "Are you coming to the tree?" Watching Frisk slaughter their once-surrogate mother was a one-of-a-kind experience, the cherry on top; they were almost as thirsty for blood as Chara was.
Almost. That's the key word there. "Where the dead man called out for his love to flee." Chara travels through the once-cheery town, wearing their host's skin just about seamlessly. Not perfectly seamless, of course; the small body has eyes too squinty, lips too plump and legs too stubby for their taste. "Strange things did happen here…" Nevertheless, they let the empty smile linger a little longer on the formerly-stoic face that now does their bidding. "No stranger would it be if we met at midnight in the hanging tree."
The pacing continues; calmly, patiently. Why not enjoy the nice weather? There are only 9 left, after all. "Are you coming to the tree?" Ah, there is one! They give a cold smile to the young Snowdrake that's suddenly jumped in front of them; it looks frozen with shock, which is quite hilarious unlike the said monster's stale jokes, in Chara's opinion. "Where I told you to run." Its mother is shouting in the distance- is it swearing? Threats? Pleas? The thing looks even uglier than its offspring, that is for sure. The demonic child that was once called the hopes and dreams of the monsterkind sneers at both monsters, they are so frail, so terrified…
Just the way Chara likes them. "So we'd both be free."
They strike lazily, matching the swinging of their knife to the melody. "Strange things that happened here, no stranger would it be." They slice through the miserable monster child with ease, par for the course.
Such a minute pile of dust it has become! "If we met at midnight in the hanging tree." Nevertheless, Chara marvels at the sight of dust rippling among the snow, even the smallest, most trivial death fills their SOUL with determination after all. They are filled with the thrill of the kill so much that they almost accidentally ignore the agonized wail its mother lets out. Almost. "Are you coming to the tree?"
They raise their head, cocking it to the side ever so slightly and giving her an awry smile that sits so, so awkwardly on their innocent round face. For a brief moment they look like a puppet save for their ruby bright eyes; their puppeteer must be one hell of a twisted person to turn such an innocent creature into a vicious killing machine.
Not really. Chara laughs, they are proud of every single death they have caused, and even the slightest pain they have managed to inflict on others.
Swish. "Wear a necklace of hope, side by side with me." Whoosh. Down goes the mother, a mere pile of dust that thankfully sits larger than that of the scattering one of that brat of hers.
"Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be if we met at midnight in the hanging tree." Gosh, even the voice of this kid is vexatious to live with.
What even is this song they are unable to tear their mind off of? It isn't a song they themself knew before they died, that is certain. "Are you coming to the tree?"
As they pause in the midst of the pile of dust they so masterfully created a moment ago and cock their head to the side once again, this time rather thoughtfully whilst they continue to hum, they notice it must be one of Frisk's memories that so greedily stuck to the brain that now belongs to Chara. "Where they strung up a man they say who murdered three." Well. At least they have (had!) good taste in music.
For a race made of love, magic and compassion, monsters are quite the tricky bastards. "Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be if we met at midnight in the hanging tree."
Under the bed. In the basement. Behind the counter. In the pot.
"Are you, coming to the tree?"
Swinging a pan at them. Crying helplessly. Welcoming death-
"WITH OPEN ARMS!"
Chara would laugh until they cried at this particular skeleton's stupidity if he didn't annoy them so much.
1 left.
"Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free."
Determination.
He is too loud. He is too brash. He is too proud.
If it weren't for the song they are so intently singing, Chara is quite certain that they would have lost themselves in mindless frenzy stemming from their hatred for Papyrus. Why do they hate him so much? "Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be..."
He is too innocent. He is too good.
"If we met at midnight in the hanging tree."
He is too pathetic.
"IT SEEMS YOUR LIFE IS GOING DOWN A DANGEROUS PATH, HUMAN!"
He offers a hug, his disgustingly bony arms reaching out to grab Chara as his useless red cape flutters behind him, "HOWEVER, I SEE GREAT POTENTIAL WITHIN YOU!" The human dodges easily, a talent they're not so keen on showing off. Their stolen voice repeats the song emerged from stolen memories like a chant the way they repeat "Determination." with every FIGHT they initiate, with every monster they take down, with every EXP they earn.
Like it's their only tie to the tangible world around them. Strange how people deal with trauma differently, strange how a person can dissociate through a song they don't even know how to sing. Chara shakes their head as the fake smile finds its way to their face yet again, Frisk's memories sure are weird, even weird enough to manage to affect them.
What a blatant lie, says a voice in their head. It's your mind after all, your feelings, your thoughts! Chara snorts. Considering they're currently singing a song that surely originates from Frisk's memories, this claim seems improbable. Is it the last scraps of their host's conscience? It might be. It must be.
But it doesn't matter now, everyone around them only deserves to be murdered brutally after all. It can only end when there is nothing left to erase, when there is no one to suffer, when Chara's thirst for vengeance is sated.
"EVERYONE CAN BE A GOOD PERSON IF THEY TRY!" Is that skeleton still yapping about goodness and friendship? Ugh. Chara gags involuntarily, coughs into dusty the hand that holds their knife so unshakably and graces Papyrus with a creepy grin. The tall skeleton's own smile falters ever-so-slightly, the hand generously pointing at his own chest trembling although he refuses to admit it. He is the Great Papyrus after all. Chara lets out a giggle that treads dangerously on the borders of mania.
"Where the dead man called out for his love to flee."
How much HOPE does he have to keep going on and on and on and on...?
Disgusting.
Swish.
He sure does love to talk, doesn't he? Look at him chatting his heart away despite all he has left is the head his jaw is attached to.
"YOU CAN DO A LITTLE BETTER!"
Whoosh.
He didn't even try to fight back. He spared them with ease as if that is the only right thing to do when your enemy seeks naught but your death. Chara tsks, grinding the long-gone skeleton's dust beneath their foot and smearing it all over their ridiculous scarf-turned-cape. Their giggles echo curiously in the abandoned corners of Snowdin.
That brother of his, short and stout as a little teapot, is going to murder them, if not tear them to pieces painfully slowly.
"Where they strung up a man they say who murdered three."
What an exhilarating thought.
