"I told her what I usually tell her," Asriel explains dully as you both walk home. "I eat fine, I sleep well, my parents are good. Then she puts a big lollipop in my mouth and lets me out without a hitch." You smirk at the flower. He's changed dramatically since you've last seen him. You seldom see him cry and he has a bigger backbone, too. He seemed to really be following in your footsteps. You couldn't say you were too proud of that, however.
"So what lollipop did you get?" You playfully inquire.
"A tootsie pop."
"And you didn't get one for me?!"
"Get your own."
You don't find it worth it to have an old hag question your well being. Your well being is fine, anyway. At least that's what you've been telling yourself recently. At least you're not the one picking fights.
This is the second time this week he's done this. You observe Frisk momentarily. Were they expecting an answer? You look over to your brother. Frisk has to keep an ice bag over his eye. Pollen and what appears to be sap accumulate on it as they move it around. Asriel winces and grunts. You guess the little guy wasn't so lucky this time around.
The sun is still in the sky when you reach your house. Toriel wanted Asriel home at once to take care of his wound. You thank the heavens above. Once the door is just feet away from you, your key chain comes flying out of your pocket and into the lock. You twist the key and with a push of your body, the door opens with ease. You all live in a modern two-story home due to all the gold you and the others acquired underground. You remember when you and Frisk used to make a profit on DogResidue and Goggles for Temmies. Some of your friends and other humans wondered how kids like you both accumulated so much gold. Frisk hates whenever you brag about it.
"Hey Mom," you say as you plop your bag on the ground. "We're home."
"Oh thank goodness," a voice hollers from another room. "Could you bring Asriel in here, please?"
You don't stay to hear the rest of the interaction. Frisk would take care of that. Instead you climb up to your room and throw your exhausted self on the bed. There are two beds in your room, Frisk and yourself each claiming one for yourselves. Fortunately, it's empty now so you have it all to yourself.
You feel around your pillow with caution until you feel a spool and pull it out. The needle comes dragging behind it. Finally you could work on your project again. At last, you take out a cloth made of green cotton, fleece and thread that you were currently sewing together. It was going to make a great gift.
...going to kill them.
You cringe. Your thoughts are starting to creep up on you again. A natural occurrence.
...'s kill or be killed.
You try to stand firm.
No.
I'm going to kill them.
You smack your head with your palm.
...kill or be killed.
You smack your head again a few more times, building more power with your blows. You remain firm again.
No.
I'm going to kill them all.
You smack your head three more times. It begins to throb.
NO. I. WON'T. A prick from one of your fingers brings you back to reality. You draw it swiftly into your mouth.
"Ow," you hiss. A coppery taste fills your tongue and the finger quickly flares with pain. You toss the needle and spool on the ground along with the green cloth. "Great," you groan. "Just great." Your head won't stop pounding. You shield yourself within a quilted cocoon and shut your eyes. Maybe a nap might help clear up your mind.
I'm not killing anyone... I'm not going to kill them all... You pull on your hair in frustration.
Ugh.
You don't realize how deeply you fell asleep until the smell of sauce and cooked vegetables arouse you. Your sleeves and pillow case soak up the sleep and slobbering from your face. Frisk is within your peripheral vision, holding up a tray of food to you.
Hi Chara, Frisk's thought reverberates with ease. Are you hungry?
"Oh," you yawn and sit up on the bed. "I am. Thanks." The food staring back is a basic casserole filled with vegetables and chicken. It looks healthy. Your face shrivels at it.
It actually tastes good, assures Frisk. And it's really healthy for you. Try it.
"I know," you mutter flatly. The dreaded vegetables seem to follow no matter where you go. Yet as your mind contemplates over whether to eat this slush, Frisk leans in, waggling their eyebrows.
If you eat your dinner, I'll give you a treat. The comment sounds demeaning, but the motivation is sufficient. You stuff the food into your mouth. It nearly blows you away how assaulted the greens feel in your mouth, but the cheese retaliates. Eating becomes less easier said than done.
Frisk leaves the room while you finish eating and you're alone again. Setting your empty plate aside, you look to the floor and pick up your sewing materials. The thoughts are gone. They usually stay bubbling within that caldron of a mind until you instigate them to come. Other than that, they're like whispers or the bubbling of boiling water. They're off sauntering in a corner somewhere, whispering. Preying...
You try not to instigate these thoughts, however. Right now, it is time to focus on sewing. You pull out your phone, searching for a song worth occupying your mind with, but it's filled with Asriel's trash. A groan gurgles from your throat and you roll your eyes. You were hoping Asriel would've acquired better taste by now. Obviously you thought much too high. It takes a few seconds before you find your special playlist - a composition of classical instrumentals - and you leave it playing while you sew. The melodies are what help the hot gasses cool down.
It doesn't take long before you wonder where Frisk is. You were just about done embroidering your creation. Didn't they say they had something for you? Going downstairs yourself wouldn't hurt anyone. Anyone except you. You're actually quite comfy where you sit. It would agitate you to have to go and invade the kitchen, yourself. As a consequence, you're just going to have to suffer.
You groan to yourself as you poke the needle through your creation a few more times. As you try to focus, to your disadvantage, you start to hear voices. They're getting louder along with their footsteps. You try to block them out, but they won't leave you alone. The door is abruptly smashed open. You huddle yourself against the bed frame and gasp. The rough voice doesn't seem to match the character.
"Hey, punk!" You notice Asriel was wearing an eyepatch on top of the bandages over his eye, but his face has morphed to look more like Undyne's. Papyrus is holding the plant, cackling to himself. You scold at them.
"Gah! Flowey," you yell. Your heart was just about to leap out of your chest. "What the fuck are you doing?!"
"WO-HOH! YOU BETTER WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE, CHARA," Papyrus rebukes you as Asriel gets set on the nightstand beside you. "YOU WOULDN'T WANT YOUR MOTHER TO HAVE TO CLEAN IT AGAIN, WOULD YOU?"
"No," you shout desperately and inwardly curse him for giving you that reminiscent taste of soap in your mouth. Yuck! "Can you not?"
"I'M SORRY CHARA, BUT THAT IS THE TRUTH AND AS A GOOD FRIEND I MUST WARN YOU ABOUT THE IMPLICATIONS OF YOUR ACTIONS."
"Well friend," you mutter sarcastically. "That's not a truth I particularly want to be warned about." You wonder why your mom even keeps you from cussing. All the kids at school do it, so why shouldn't you? While you speak, you stealthily hide away your gift under the blankets. You hope neither of them saw what you've been making.
Frisk suddenly stumbles into the room, bumping their head into Papyrus from behind. Thankfully they didn't stumble. They have something in their hands and you don't want that to be tarnished.
"HUMAN," the skeleton screeches. "YOU'RE RUNNING INTO EVERYTHING AGAIN." Clumsily, Frisk gives you the plate they're carrying. It's slice of Hershey's Sundae Pie. You smile at it greedily.
'Sorry,' Frisk signs at the skeleton. You know this because you've been relearning sign language as of late. Without haste, you stuff your fork into the pie and smoother its contents all within your mouth. You needed this...
Papyrus ruffles your friend's head and tells them to be more careful next time. Then he encourages you all to go to bed.
"But I'm not tired!" Asriel protests wearily.
"FLOWERY, LOOK AT YOU. YOU'VE BEEN CROTCHETY SINCE DINNER."
"Hey, you'd be pissed too if some human punched you in the face! Those lousy... insufferable… NYGAAAAAH!"
Asriel bit his lip. You couldn't stand to hear him scream. His screeching was ear curdling. Normally, you wouldn't care. You'd laugh at these sort of things. You like seeing people in pain, but this time you feel strange. Like a part of you felt... angry? You conclude that you just find his screaming to be annoying.
Papyrus soon brought an ice bag to Asriel's eye. He's clutching his teeth hard against each other. You thought if he bit down any further that his teeth would crack. "It buuurns…" Asriel hisses. "You idiot! You think with all these bandages that I'm supposed to feel THAT?!"
"NOW FLOWERY, EVERYTHING IS GOING TO FINE. JUST RELAX!"
"No, it's not!" Asriel screams. "The next time I see Mitt's stupid face, I'm gonna kick his butt!"
Frisk tells Asriel that he shouldn't be talking like that. Meanwhile, you try to lose yourself in the pie…
