It was with a surprising lack of usual grace that the elemental was spat out of the dark. He landed face first into snow with a yelp of shock. There was no coalescing of dark energy, no almost explosion snapping back into a condensed ball. Simply like a claw raked open the sky and he fell through, from nothingness to gravity that plopped him without dignity onto the ground.
It was, by far, the most graceless and embarrassing exit he had ever done. Snow hissed and steamed as the red elemental planted hands next to his shoulders, lifting his torso off the snow. A gust of wind spat more powder into his face, making the flame being jerk back fast into sitting on his ass in the snow, sputtering and swiping the white substance away with growled curses.
Snowdin. He was in Snowdin? Why was he in Snowdin?
More importantly, why was he lying in front of his friend's pub, and why was it empty?
The elemental pushed himself to his feet, flicked snow off his clothes, and stepped up to the door. Locked, unsurprisingly, Gaster would never leave it unlocked… but where was he? It seemed that no one was in the town, it was all… quiet. He couldn't smell dust, but the monster's chest squeezed slightly anyway, fearing the worst had happened to his timeline and he hadn't been here to stop it.
A sharp twist of his arm, and the lock broke, letting him walk in. Wherever Pub was, he would not be happy about that, but Grillby could deal with that later. If there was a later. Stepping inside, the elemental looked around, flicking his fingers at the small gas lamps that sat on the walls and provided the illumination for the main area of the pub. There was electric in the pub, but Gaster had always liked the ambiance of gas and fire magic lights.
The flames flickered to life, casting warm shadows over the dark wooded place, though the area around himself remained dim. He was use to that, it wasn't strange anymore. Even before his fall, he had never produced much light, as a tar fire elemental.
What was strange was that the bar, aside from being perfectly empty, was cleaned up as if Gaster had just closed for the night. But there was a fine layer of natural dust on everything, even the bottles along the back shelf behind the bar. His shoes clicked lightly along the wooden floor, echoing hollowly in the building.
It felt… Not dead, but… waiting.
How long had it been? Where was everyone?