Of all the things to go right, this is the one that needs to go right the most, Frisk thought to themself as they trudged through the ruins, the familiar smell of mortar and ancient magic wafting under their nose, making them scrunch it up slightly.
Wasn't a particularly pleasant smell.
Frisk recognized the hallway they were lead through ages ago, the paint on the switches slightly scratched off, a froggit hopping along in the corner.
It seemed like years ago Toriel lead them through the old passage, carefully guiding them through the ruins.
Good times, good times.
Frisk made sure to pat the box strapped to their waist, hearing the jingle of metal on metal inside of the cardboard box, with "AsReul" Clumsily scrawled on the side. Frisk was at least forty precent sure that's how you spelled it.
Okay, maybe thirty.
Maybe green crayon wasn't the most fanciful choice of writing, but Frisk thought it fit nontheless.
Finally, Frisk came upon the all-to-familiar flower patch, the small spot of yellow they'd fallen upon time after time.
Frisk was glad they stopped resetting, even though reliving it over and over again was an interesting experience, it was quite rewarding to have some closure.
They kneeled beside the patch, clumsily feeling through the grove of yellow flowers, making sure not to move their hands too quickly - didn't want to punch the poor flower in the face.
Save that for another run.
Frisk giggled to themself quietly at that joke, before they came upon what they were looking for.
"WhAt Is iT you ungRATEFUL brat?!" The familiar yellow flower shrieked, lashing out at Frisk with an almost animalistic rage, still not able to do much other than aggressively wobble.
Having seven souls ripped from you does a number on the body.
Frisk smiled softly at Flowey, giving them an affectionate pat on the head, earning them a small nip on the finger, before setting the box down with an eager smile.
"WhAt is this...? S-Some soRT of kNIfe?! i can smELL the metAl in there..." Flowey growled, moving their stem backwards slightly, still quite aware of just how many times they'd meet their end at the sharp end of a blade weilded by the fallen child.
Frisk shook their head, opening the box wordlessly, before gently setting the lid of the old cardboard box on the ground, the green name, almost scratched into the box with the crayon, facing Flowey.
The flower hesitated, a half snarl, half fearful look twisting on their face, giving off quite the eerie expression, glancing down at the name, a small bead of water running along their petal.
Frisk then began to dig out frame after frame, small little metal squares with palm-sized pieces of paper within them, each and every one of them a picture of Asriel scrawled onto them. Most of the pictures appeared to be from Frisk themself, but the rest seemed to come from the citizens of the underground. Papyrus' easily identifiable stick-figures, Undynes chicken scratch, Alphy's very obviously anime styling of them, and Asgore's unmistakable near life-like accuracy. Almost all of the citizens seemed to have chipped in with a doodle or two, making the box retract slightly as the overflowing of paper crumbled out of it in a messy heap.
Flowey hesitated, shaking and twitching, darting his fearful eyes from frame to frame, pulling at their roots, trying desperately to move away-scream-yell-bite-do ANYTHING but sit there and whine, but they couldn't.
Flowey's vision suddenly blurred, his eyes feeling wet and raw, continuing to twitch and jerk, mumbling something under his breath, gasping for air between sobs.
"Happy birthday!" Frisk whispered, before sitting up, gently stroking Flowey's petal again, this time returning his hand unscathed, before trudging back down through the ruins.