It was a beautiful day. Birds were singing; flowers were blooming. It was 1939, in the middle of the Great Depression though one would have never known it in the small, happy town of Ebott. Children were playing while the older citizens chatted with those in their tight-knit groups. There was one person, however, that was a bit out of place. It was a young man in his early twenties who was walking alone along the road. He had his hands in his pockets and was slouching slightly. His dark hair, short and combed, stood out against his fair skin and made his sapphire blue eyes more noticeable. Like every other young man in the 1940s he wore a suit with a halfway button-up coat and dress shoes. Apart from the white dress shirt he wore underneath the coat, the suit was entirely black. Were it not for his slouch, which was coupled with his thinness to give him a small demeanor, he would have looked quite professional. As it were, however, he was slouching and therefore had a rather small demeanor indeed.
The young man observed his surroundings with genuine curiosity, careful to avoid eye contact with the other people out and about. He would occasionally glance at groups of people, be it children playing or adults socializing, only to feel the loneliness that seemed to surround him. He would shake it off moments later and return to the observations that his rather scientific mind always seemed to be making.
Though he wasn't quite sure of the direction he was heading, he knew where his destination was located: the local bar and eatery. As for why the young man didn't know the direction he was headed, the reasoning was quite simple: he was new to the small town, if it could even be called that. It wasn't unheard of for someone to dub it a village rather than a town, after all. The man would have asked someone on the matter of whether or not he was headed in the right direction but, alas, he wasn't socially inclined to do so. Instead, he chose to wander about rather aimlessly in vain hopes of finding where he was going. Fortunately for him, luck, or perhaps fate, was on his side that day as he stumbled across the place that he'd been thinking about. The outside proved to be modest with its quaint size and wooden exterior. A small sign over the door simply read "Garrett's Place" in italicized red and gold paint which proved to be the only real color of the building aside from the brown tones of the wood and the colors from the inside that showed through the windows. Smiling to himself in accomplishment, the young man pulled open the dark oak wood door with its steel handle and walked inside the building.
He had walked into the establishment, intending fully to sit alone or possibly to take a seat at the bar. The place itself was warm and overall friendly and welcoming. The lighting was kept low and was given off by kerosene lamps which cast the walls in a soft, orange glow. It smelled of smoke, a fact not helped by the cigars and cigarettes that could be found in several men's mouths. Of course, this smell was overpowered by the smell of alcohol and, of course, the usual assortment of food one would find at such an establishment of the times. There was one faint yet detectable smell however that seemed very out of place. Curious, the young man looked around for the source of the smell. Instead, his eyes fell upon something -or, for better term, someone- else.
A woman with pale skin sat alone at the bar, her platinum hair pulled into a tight bun. Everything about her radiated kindness from her stormy gray eyes to the fact that she'd sat alone at the bar despite the obvious abundance of people that were in the vicinity. That fact oddly compelled him to her.
The man walked over to where she sat and gestured to ask if he could sit in the stool next to her. The woman looked up, seeming surprised, but quickly replaced the look with a kind smile and nodded in response. He smiled and sat down in the free stool beside her, noting that the odd smell was stronger now, yet not overpowering like the smoke. When he thought about it, the smell reminded him of that of a lily.
"I suppose there's a reason why you came over here, " the woman spoke, her voice soft with hints of hidden wisdom. This was reflected in her eyes and gave the impression of unsurpassed maturity. The man gave a simple wave over the place which was teeming with activity and buzzed of conversations spoken amongst the other patrons. The almost white-haired female nodded knowingly and asked, "And I don't suppose you speak English either, correct?" The blue-eyed man shook his head in response and, after a moment's consideration, signed, "I don't suppose you know ASL, do you? " The gray-eyed woman smiled and replied, "You might be amazed at what I know. " "You may be right, " the male agreed in sign, a smile now playing at his lips as well. The female continued to smile, seeming pleased to have someone sit beside her which seemed odd to the dark-haired man but he quickly dismissed it. "May I perhaps get a name since you're here, or at least your preferred beverage, " said woman questioned politely. "Water, " was the simple answer signed to her which she then relayed to the server. "And your name? Or shall I just call you Mysteryman? " the woman pressured though she was obviously being light-hearted about it. The man chuckled and signed six simple letters. "G-A-S-T-E-R. " The kind woman nodded, satisfied to have an answer. "Well then, Mr. Mysteryman Gaster, my name is Morana Crawford. " The waiter came back with the man's -Gaster's- water as the two began to chat with one another.
The two talked for an hour or so, in which time revealed that Gaster's full name was Wing Ding Gaster, Gaster was actually born in Greece from where he moved to America, and Morana lived near the mountain where the town of Ebott got it's name. It was also learned that Gaster was a scientist hoping to specialise in Quantum physics and that Morana actually spoke Greek and Slavic as well due to her family's ancestry. Soon, however, the sun began to set as was evident by the sky's colors that could be seen. The duo seemed reluctant to leave, however, even as they stood outside to part their separate ways. Morana gave an understanding and kind smile, however, and suggested, "Perhaps we could meet again, Gaster. " Gaster, though reluctant to leave one of the few people that could understand what he was saying, nodded. With that, the two of them went separate ways with Morana heading in the direction of the mountain and Gaster trudging home.
On the way home, the man known as Gaster was stopped by an older and seemingly more intoxicated man. "You! " the man bellowed as he grabbed the dark-haired male's arm. The younger man stood frightened in front of the drunk as the taller and older male continued, "Haven't you heard the old tales? " Hesitantly, the younger of the two shook his head as he mentally tried to determine how to escape the iron-like grip that held him. The loud male scoffed, as if unsurprised, as he commented, "All you youngun's, all the same. " Youngun's? the scientific mind of the petrified male registered confusedly. I realize I'm young but this man is hardly a few years older than me. Perhaps it's the alcohol. He certainly reeks of it. Before the 'youngun' ' could scold his mind for inexplicably bad timing, however the man gripping his arm lowered his voice to a normal level as he leaned in and said almost ominously, "Beware the one who reeks of Death. If you don't, your fate is surely set. " Gaster, now thoroughly disturbed and scared out of his wits, managed to pull his arm away from the towering drunk. He forced a smile to try to falsify a way of thanks for the older man's 'wisdom' before running for towards his home. He didn't stop until he was safely locked inside his house. Stopping to catch his breath, the thin male try to shake off the experience though he knew it wasn't likely to disappear from his mind anytime soon. Even as he laid in bed in hopes of sleeping, the old drunk's words echoed in young Wing Ding Gaster's mind. Beware the one who reeks of Death. If you don't, your fate is surely set.
Hey everyone. Now, if you're someone who's familiar to my profile, welcome back! If you're new, I feel so bad for you. For my stories, newcomers, think hiatuses worse than Gravity Falls. Anyways, I'm suffering from writer's block. That's no surprise to the folks used to this profile. What probably is new is the fact that this is an Undertale story! Yes, I finally got into the fandom. No, this is not going to be like a lot of other stories -hopefully- that you've seen. I randomly came up with this on the last day of school in my last class and I finally got this published about a month later. Crazy how writer's block works even when filled with determination. Anyways, I hope that you will enjoy this story. For those of you wondering, yes, I will be updating Enter the Illusionary Melodies and Demonic Roses soon hopefully. But this update has filled me with hope and determination so it should be done soon. Thank you all for hanging on so much. Oh, and this title is a work-in-progress! If you have an idea for it, let me know! Until then, I'll see you all in the next chapter! Stay determined! ~shadowpixie01