Chapter 3 - A Dark Intruder in the House of Light
It was a fine single story cottage, which Toriel had built herself many years ago when she had first taken the tiresome job of watching the ruins. It was the only pristine things there, the ruins were kept safe and danger free by Toriel, but in honour of the empty city, she left it to die. Like an old, wise lore master, she would let it fade and have its knowledge fade with it.
Faint white wax candles that decorated small shelves that were in all the corners of the house illuminated its' insides; the small flickers of flame were the first thing Frisk noticed. As he entered the house, into a small main hall which turned left, right and down by way of a staircase at the rooms end, the candles that led at Toriel's higher eye level suddenly grew their low glowing life. It was an enchantment that Toriel had cast years ago, needing an entire year
Like the outside, the inside was painted like a setting sun, with the fire nearly blending into the walls like a chameleon. It was relaxing and a soothing display for Frisk; in addition to that, he heard the sound of a burning hearth, gently erupting its fuel into warm fire.
It was the only alive place in a city of the dead and it lived up to its liveliness with a great intent.
"This is your home?"Frisk asked in wonder at the house. He had expected to see something as old and decrepit as the ruins behind him, but the contrast was something of a shock to him. He had been so used to the hours of gloom and misery that something bright and alive was a fading thought. The sight of the calming abode relit that thought though, like the candles that surrounded him.
"Indeed it is, Frisk," Toriel replied softly, before turning down the right hand corridor. 'But come, you need to sleep, I shall show you to one of the spare rooms.'
She took him to the first door to the right of the corridor; it was one of three evenly spaced doors, all with counters holding vases of flowers, which shimmered like pure gold, between the doors.
She finally released Frisk's hand and opened the door with a gentle push to reveal the room within.
It was a children's room, one small bed to the right with a toy box at its base, all with an assortment of dolls and other children's paraphernalia, a single wardrobe was at the back of the room as well as a full shoebox next to that, but otherwise it was empty.
At the sight of the room, Toriel felt the beginnings of tears but she kept them to herself and encouraged Frisk inside.
"Go on, sleep, I'll have made food for you when you wake up," she said and Frisk did as he was told, feeling suddenly tired. He only took off his leather boots. In his white robes, brown trousers and violet cape, he slept in the slightly small, but still comfortable bed.
Flowey was watching the young mage from the window to the main hall; they had left their door open, leaving an open view for his peering eyes. A crude smile plastered on his lips as he looked at the mage that could mean his salvation from his wretched body.
He severely hated being a flower, he could be anywhere, at any time, his ever-long roots made sure of that but the problem with being a living plant was the lack of a soul… the lack of emotions and feeling. That and not having arms, Flowey missed being able to hold things in the palms of his hands.
That was the problem of being soulless; you were restricted of so many things. There was a positive for Flowey though; it was the power of a monster to absorb the souls of humans and vice-versa. Flowey could do both, it was just that a human child's soul was the equivalent to every monster in existence.
Just wait… Wait until night, then, THEN, it is almost time… wait for the goat to fall asleep and then the kids soul is yours. Flowey was close to bursting into manic laughter. The lack of a soul was as if you were empty inside, you were hollow like a carved pumpkin but unlike those, he was anything but entertaining to look at.
Flowey could have acted at that very moment, he could slip through the cracks in the floorboards beat the kid to death with his magic or strangle him with his roots but there was the problem of Toriel. The goat woman was strong, skilled at magical attacks and the onetime Flowey had gotten to the previous fallen human the goat woman had nearly burnt him to death, the same when he was close to the newest arrival. He was hopeful though, the last time he was too slow, the king had gotten that human's soul but this child had to be Flowey's.
Flowey had a plan; the child would want to leave the Ruins and try to get to his home, to go home he'd have to traverse through the rest of the underground. Flowey would spend the day whispering to the naive monsters beyond the ruins great door. He was manipulative and an absurd number of monsters were so STUPID to believe him.
"A human is coming," he would say. "You will be seen as a hero if you stop the human… you will be famous, forever known as the saviour of monsters," is how he would persuade them. That was if his first plan went poorly, he had to persuade the monsters first, 'strike while the iron is hot' as they say. if his first plan succeeded he'd just kill everyone, simple as that, he'd take their souls and move on to the other human souls in the underground, his power would be unbelievable and then he would become himself once again, no longer a pathetic plant. That was if he could get passed the king.
If the opportunity presented itself though, he could take the soul and test his attack against the underground. It was not as if he would lose anything. He had nothing to lose. His life? What a stupid idea. He had no life to begin with, plants didn't have lives.
Flowey's maniacal grin fell when Frisk turned in his sleep, rustling the thick blankets and groaning in an uneasy dream.
He suddenly halted and snored softly, his chest rising and falling peacefully, Flowey's grin returned, his time was now! He brought vines poking through cracks in the floorboards and slivered them up the legs of the bed, looking as if time was moving before his eyes and the bedroom was becoming overrun with wildlife. His wildlife. When the vines reached the beds covers the tips tentatively jabbed the child. No response. Perfect.
Flowey sent a thousand more stealthy legions onto the bed, each of them slivering over Frisk, wrapping his body slowly in a thin cocoon of vines. With one single vine he closed the door shut and descended into the earth. For a second he navigated the dark soil until he was watching from the corner of the guest room. He admired the houses heat and comfort for a second, and his grin changed to that of a hyena when he realised that he would be defiling that comfort. The stupid man did not even wake up! Flowey's luck was unimaginable, with a horrible cracking sound, like that of a whip two more vines erected themselves into a point over the child's stomach. He was going to draw out the mage's death, slowly watch as he screamed in silent agony before he died, and then Flowey would have his soul. He would then kill Toriel, then any possible monsters in the ruins, then the underground. Everyone. Would. Die. He had to make sure of it. He had to have every soul.
It was when the vines were moments from piercing the child's stomach that doubts flooded his thinking.
But the king. Asgore, the bastard… even if I absorb the other monsters he might be stronger than me. Maybe even stronger if I take this stupid mage's soul… I guess I will just have the mage do it for me. A other plan was etched into Flowey's mind, he would let the mage get to the monster king, Asgore would show the child the other six human souls and then Flowey would swoop in and take six human souls at once. If that failed and the kid died, he would just take Frisk's soul and go with his original plan.
"Lucky for you, mage, you're going get to live… golly, how wonderful!" Flowey said, extending his stalk so he could lean down to stare at the child's sleeping face, looking malformed and unnatural as he curved his stalk in an arch. "You might get to have some hope before you die-," he whispered before seeing something in the mage's face. Nothing literal but something about the structure reminded Flowey of something from his long past, of a friend he had when he used to possess a soul.
He smiled, sinking back into the floor so he could watch from afar, talking his many green roots with him.
