||Frisk? Hey, c'mon, Friskabibble, you're not a big cat. You know what that means? There's no point in lion around! Not when the sun's waiting for us! C'mon, silly sib, I thought you were the determined one!||
Lee's voice fades into the comfortable darkness of the headspace. A shaft of light splits the dark in two. Frisk blinks tears out of their eyes. Their vision is blurred, but a few more blinks and things come shyly back into focus. They're staring up at the extinguished lights in a darkened hallway. From what they can remember, they passed out in the CORE.
Ness the Nice Cream Guy is crouching at their side with his phone flashlight on. His smile is so relieved when he sees their eyes open that they feel guilty for scaring him.
A green snout pushes its way into their face. "Like, hey, why are you taking a nap on the floor?"
Catty squishes against her friend. "I mean the floor is like, totally grody?"
"Yeah, yeah, totally!"
"Girls, can we give them some space?" pleads Ness forlornly.
Bratty and Catty each take one of Frisk's hands in theirs and pat them, but do wiggle back a little. Burgerpants, sitting sprawled by Frisk's feet with a stub of a cigarette, possibly the one they saw him with back at the resort, asks "Hey, little buddy, you hurt?"
They do a quick check. All of their fingers and toes still wiggle. Their elbows can still bend. All in all, they seem fine, except for the funny ache in their chest, like something had been sitting on it while they were unconscious. They give a thumbs up anyway.
"Did you see that?" Chara asks in a hushed voice. Their cold fingers seem to close on Frisk's arm. "That light?"
'I wish I hadn't.' They sit up and smile at their friends. Bratty and Catty cheer, tugging on their hands until they stand. The boys stand too. Ness clicks off his flashlight. Frisk's eyes adjust to the darkness quickly.
"You're lucky that we found you instead of someone else. Somebody might've-" Burgerpants draws a finger across his throat and makes a noise through his teeth. The end of his cigarette glows red.
"Brentworth!" Ness scolds.
"Gesundheit," Flowey answers, reminding Frisk of his presence. He receives the concerned patting they give his vines with patience and an eye roll. "Honestly, I'm f-fine," he whispers. "You?" They nod.
"No, uh, that's my name," Burgerpants says, almost sheepishly.
"Brentworth? His parents must have hated him," Chara remarks.
'Brentworth?' Frisk wonders at the same time. 'When did that happen?'
Burgerpants sees their expression and misinterprets it. "Ugh, yes, Brent Bearnes, nice to meet you, yadda yadda." He even follows this up with a mocking shake of their hand, which makes them smile. "Hey, don't get any ideas about giving me nicknames off that." This last he directs towards Bratty and Catty, who put their paws over their mouths in shock.
"Like, who? Us?"
"We'd never do that, Burgerpants! Not ever!"
"Just curious though, what nicknames could we make out of Brentworth?"
As the teens fall into another squabble, Flowey shifts on their shoulder, twisting around to check on his vines. "Ugh, I'm all p-patterned now!" he grumbles, throwing a loop over their head for them to inspect. In a manner that reminds them of skin, his vine has formed impressions of the texture of the floor below. As they watch, he grumpily yanks a rock from his coils with his teeth and spits it onto the ground.
"What are you doing here?" Frisk tries to inquire of the teens. Flowey ignores their signs, too busy with his grooming routine. Apparently the floor of the CORE is riddled with loose stones and, because of that, he is also covered in them. His silence doesn't negatively impact them though, as Ness guesses what they're after.
"Why are we here?" the bunny guesses, clapping his hands in delight when Frisk nods. "Well, it's delightful news! The queen has returned and so people are gathering at the castle to welcome her home!"
"I dunno if it's so delightful," Burgerpants- Brent- mumbles. Ness shoots him a concerned look and Brent throws his hands up in the air. "Where's she been all these years anyhow? Why's she get to waltz back in when we've got six souls?"
"It does seem odd," Ness concedes. For Frisk, he explains "When the king took the first soul, she left the castle. That she would come back now that his plan worked seems strange." His nose twitches as he ponders this. Granted, the pensiveness doesn't last long, Ness being Ness, and he chirps "But the king seems so happy to see her again!"
Frisk and Chara share a delighted look in the mindscape. Flowey even pauses, a rock caught between his jaws, and sneaks a look at Frisk. They smile at him. Excitement makes them wiggle. Toriel had made it after all!
But, a dim little voice in the back of their mind still whimpers "Someone...someone help me. Anyone. Please… help me" in Toriel's soft voice. Chara opens their palms apologetically, revealing the blue blossoms of an echo flower. Toriel speaks through it, repeating her plea over and over, the way her voice had in Waterfall. Chara looks down at it, running their thumbs over the soft petals. "I feel like it means something," they say. "It was planted there, Frisk, for us to find. Who would joke about this?"
'I don't know.' Frisk presses Chara's palms together and the flower disappears between them. 'But it doesn't matter. I was wrong. She's safe.'
Chara gives them an uncertain smile. "Okay."
A warm hand slips into theirs and the contact startles Frisk into the real world. Chara looks through their eyes to find a pair of pink ones looking back. "Coin for your thoughts, Frisk?" Bratty teases.
"I was thinking about my feet," they lie. Unfortunately the lie reminds them how much their feet actually hurt, so the accompanying wince is real. They're sure they didn't hurt this much during the show.
"Oh no, do they hurt?" asks Catty anxiously. "Blisters are, like, totally bad for your toes!"
"Yeah, like, that's why I wear thick socks with my heels. Fashion is cool and all, but, like, I totally don't feel like a bombshell when my feet hurt."
"I can carry you if you want," offers Ness.
"Oh, no you don't, Ness," warns Brent. "You'll fucking drop them after five steps."
"I'm plenty strong enough. I pushed my cart all the way to Hotland, didn't I?" returns Ness.
"Your cart is a lever system! It's not about strength; your stamina is shit, Ness. You'll just hurt your back. Come here, little buddy, I got you." Brent crouches down to their level, gesturing for them to climb on.
They do; who are they to turn down an opportunity to not have to walk? After a few false starts, they get themself comfortably situated with their arms slung loosely around his neck. "Hey, Ness," Brent grits out around his cigarette.
"Yes?"
"Can you take my cigarette? I don't have the hands to do it and all the ash and crap falls."
"Do you- do you want me to hold it for you?" Ness ventures. His ears seem divided on what to do; one ear has all but flopped over while the other twitches like a satellite dish.
"Ew, no!" squeals Catty. "What if it sparks and everything, like, explodes?"
"Yeah, like, you don't want our deaths on your hands, do you?" Bratty adds, hanging onto Catty's arm.
Ness takes the cigarette from Brent's mouth. Up this close, Frisk can smell him again, like a snowy forest, sharp under the stale cigarette smoke.
The cat sighs. "Just stub it out or something," he says reluctantly. "Don't bend it too much though. I've been working on finishing that one for a week."
Ness presses the pad of a finger to the lit end. Pine magic and heat mix for a moment, then the smokey smell starts to fade. On a hunch, Frisk presses their face into Brent's collar. He smells like cigarette smoke and the edible sequins of a Glamburger. But there's the barest hint of something sweet underneath those, too faint for them to know what it is.
"Please remove your face from the bear cat," Chara intones.
"Stop sniffing him, you idiot," Flowey hisses in their ear. One of Brent's ears twitches and Frisk sits back. It occurs to them that it might be rude to try to figure out how people's magic smells. It might be one of those things people get funny about. The thought causes little twinges in their chest.
"Whoa, calm down, kiddo," Chara says, touching their own chest with a twist of their thin lips. "It's not something to get stressed about. It's just a little silly."
Frisk presses their fist into their chest and squeezes their eyes shut. It's not stress. It's not even panic. It feels like emptiness, like they forgot to eat, but located behind their ribs rather than in their belly. Like whatever had sat on their chest had dug in its claws as it left, tearing a hole straight through them. Puzzled, but not pained, they reopen their eyes and meet Chara's. 'It's nothing,' they say.
"Sounds like something," Chara retorts, tucking their arm back around Brent's neck.
'No, it's actually nothing,' Frisk stresses. 'Feel.' They extend a hand in the mindscape and do their best to press the feeling into Chara.
Chara furrows their brow, then cups their hands together, shaking whatever's between them like a Magic-8 Ball. Then they uncover it and Frisk's soul pops into view. "There's no pieces missing," they remark, although their mind remains unconvinced and more than a little worried. The little heart revolves in the air. "Don't you have a glamburger? Eat some of that, see if you're hungry."
Frisk nods themself back into the real world, where Flowey's petals tickle their cheek and Brent's fur makes them crinkle their nose. If they focus, they can hear Chara talking to themself and the sound of their chalk scribbling on the wall.
"Hey, did you hear that?" Catty asks, flicking her ear and jangling her earrings.
"I heard that," Brent says, jerking his chin towards her earrings. "Why's your jewelry so noisy?"
"I like noise," Catty says snidely, but then her head turns and her unornamented ear flicks. The way she stares into the darkness reminds Frisk of their cat. Olive stares like that sometimes. Lee calls it her poltergeist face. "That noise. Right there."
Ness's ears stick straight up. "Oh, that's-" he considers. "Sounds like someone with a wooden leg. Like the old puzzler!" He steps forward, slipping Brent's extinguished cigarette into his pocket absently. Cupping his hands about his mouth, he calls "Hallo!"
"Ooh, let me try, Ness." A heavy citrus smell hits Frisk in the face just before Catty bellows "HELLO!"
Ness's ears flop like felled trees and Brent actually hisses in pain. Frisk grabs their ears. Their chest aches and their stomach lurches.
"Ooh, Catty, maybe not so loud?" tries Bratty, removing her hands from the sides of her head.
"WHAT?" Catty asks. Bratty grabs an imaginary dial and turns it all the way down, misting the air with her own magic. Catty's eyes widen. "Oops," she whispers.
"Well," Ness says, shaking his ears back into position. "I don't hear it anymore. Perhaps it was a machine sound."
"Uh uh," Catty argues. "That was somebody hopping around."
Brent bumps Frisk further up his back and they jolt around a little, starting to smile. Their chest isn't hurting anymore. Chara's probably right ("Of course I am.") and they're probably just hungry.
Although Brent's face is turned away from them, they can hear his smile in his voice as he replies to Catty's argument. "If it was someone, then your noise scared them right off. Nice job."
"Hey! Maybe they got scared off by your terrible attitude!" Bratty accompanies this with a jab of her finger into the meat of Brent's arm. He dances away, making Frisk laugh as they bump around.
"Wait, can we talk this out rationally?" pleads Ness, sensing another round of bickering on the horizon.
"Oh my dog," Flowey moans, flopping over as the girls and Brent do their best to square off with each other while walking.
Frisk unclasps their knapsack flap and roots around inside. The contents of the bag are in disarray as usual. Under sweaters and sweaty clothes, they uncover a crumbly slice of pie. 'This work?' they ask Chara.
The little spirit frowns and shakes their head. "I kind of want to save that for when we see Mom and Dad, if that's okay."
Frisk nods. 'What about-' they dig a little more '-some chocolate? There's a little left in here!'
Chara looks torn between being The Responsible One and shoving the remains of the chocolate bar into their mouth. Frisk decides to sweeten the pot a little. 'Did you know that science says chocolate makes you happy? It sends signals to your brain to make you smile!'
"That explains a lot. Oh, alright, you win. Let's have some chocolate."
'There's not much. I put a lot of it into the good cake,' Frisk confesses.
"What am I going to do with you, you moron? You'd give a perfect stranger the clothes off your back if asked." Chara gives their hair a tousle.
'Not a perfect stranger,' Frisk protests. 'Just someone who needed them.' They make a sound of surprise when Flowey nips their fingers. His head darts into the chocolate wrapper and comes away with a corner between his teeth. "G-good idea," he says. "I-I'm st-starved!"
They take a bite. Hotland's atmosphere has melted the sweet until it is the consistency of thick mud. Even small bites smear their cheeks. Flowey himself is sporting a spattering of chocolate around his mouth. "That's an interesting fashion statement, bro," Chara teases.
"Says the Sweater Sovereign," he fires back.
"Hey, don't wipe your mouth on me!" protests Frisk, slapping their palm to his forehead to keep his sticky mouth from their sweater sleeve.
"Oh ho, Sweater Sovereign, is it? That's rich coming from the Crybaby King!" crows Chara.
"Is there something in the air that's making you all like this?" Frisk wonders, crumpling the empty wrapper in their fist.
The crunching sound must remind the teens of their presence, because suddenly Bratty and Catty pepper them with questions about Mettaton's show. "That was, like, a super bold narrative choice," says Catty. "The forums are going absolutely cah-razy about these ghosts."
"Yeah, like, who are they? The grody one has zero UnderNet presence. We've looked." Frisk guesses that Bratty is talking about Mads, unless pretty silvery ghosts like Blooky are considered gross. Mads had looked a little beaten up the last time they saw them, like their dummy body had been split right open and clumsily resewn.
Catty shows them her phone, bringing their thoughts back to the conversation. "I downloaded all of BlookTunes' music. It's actually super awesome? Mettaton plays it all the time in the resort."
"How do you even know that?" Brent asks. "Don't you two live in the garbage?"
The girls look as if they've been slapped. Ness comes to a screeching halt, looking as if he'd like nothing more than to give Brent a good shake. Bratty curls her hands into fists at her sides. "Like, what the heck, Burgerpants."
"Were you raised by crabs?" Frisk doesn't understand that, but Catty continues with "You must have been because you're so snippy! Like, wow."
"That was way rude and totally uncalled for? We've been super nice to you?"
"And you treat us like garbage?"
"Super rude."
"You're super rude."
"Like, the thing with your pants and the burgers totally wasn't our fault, but you started treating us like-"
"Like we had pantsed you ourselves!"
"And yeah, it was like super embarrassing-"
"And you're right, we weren't planning on sharing-"
"And you've been really super cool tonight, but like, you've been totally uncool for a year! Do you know how much fun we could have had?" Catty folds her arms over her chest and flicks her ears again. The earrings chime.
Brent looks dazed, his ears flat against his head, and his grip on Frisk's legs slackens. "What? I thought you thought-"
"We wanted to be friends, even though you were being super weird," Bratty explains, twisting one of her curls around her claw.
"Oh my dog, this is gold," says Chara gleefully, propping Frisk's elbows on Brent's shoulders to get a better look. Flowey is watching the whole thing with eyes the size of dinner plates. Frisk isn't sure what it is about the Dreemurr siblings, but the two of them seem to subsist entirely on other people's drama. When they get home, Frisk will have to introduce them to soap operas.
"Hey now," Ness says, raising his hands before him in an indication for calm. "What's stopping us from being friends now?"
"Like, an apology maybe?" suggests Bratty, looking almost hopeful.
"Yeah!" Catty seconds. "We're totally sorry for laughing when your pants fell." The girls look expectantly at Brent for his response.
Frisk taps Brent on the back of the neck, trying to prompt him into responding. He shakes his head and for a second, they think he won't do it.
"I'm sorry for treating you like that," Brent says, the words running together into a single breath. He inhales and Frisk pats his neck again. "I was stupid."
Bratty and Catty look at each other and then back to him. A sliver of fang pokes from between Catty's lips and Bratty's eyes sparkle. Bratty sticks out her hand for a handshake Brent accepts. "Thanks, B.P. We, like,-"
"-totally forgive you," they say in unison.
Catty points a finger at him. "And we're sorry again!"
Bratty releases his hand to point her own finger. "Yeah! Like, we should have been ready to share with you!"
The girls' free hands clasp and Catty shouts "We're friends now though and that's all that matters!"
Frisk pumps their fist enthusiastically, catching the energy in the air.
"Can I ask where you live now, then?" Brent asks, once again holding onto Frisk's ankles to keep them steady.
"A lady never reveals her secrets-" Bratty starts.
"We live with my sister!" Catty answers. "In the building!"
"Dude, your sister lives four doors away from me," Brent says, shoulders sagging in distress.
"Yeah, like, we could've been really cool neighbors, but, like-"
"Like, you hated us? And you were never ever home?"
"My boss is a slave-driver," jokes Brent.
"Omidog! Speaking of your boss! Frisk!" They raise their head at the sound of their name. "Was that fi-i-ine fish with Alphys her girlfriend?" Bratty asks, drawing out the 'i's in a cheeky drawl. When Catty cackles, she joins in, covering her lips with a hand, although Frisk can see the teeth that line the rest of her mouth clear as day.
Chara nods without hesitation. Frisk smiles and follows it up with a shake of their head. "Not yet, I don't think. That's Undyne!"
Bratty's jaw drops. "Undyne, like the captain of the royal guard Undyne? Like Undyne the uber-hottie?"
"No way!"
"Like, omigosh, Catty, weren't we just talking about her crush on Undyne?"
"Like, omigosh, Bratty, we totally were! It's like we're, like-"
"-like, totally psychic?"
Brent rolls his eyes so hard that they might roll out of his head. "More like psychotic," he mumbles, earning a soft punch in the arm from Bratty that makes him grin.
"Be rude and this psychic will tell you when you're going to die," she threatens, a toothy smile on her face.
Brent makes no return comment, only gestures towards himself in a challenging way.
"You should tell him, Bratty," Ness giggles, giving Brent a playful shove on his other arm. He seems much happier now that no one's cross.
Bratty wiggles her neon-painted claws and intones in a spooky voice "Brentworth Bearnes, you will die in five days' time. Do not pass Go, do not collect five hundred g."
"Okay, Brunhilde, how am I going to die?" Brent responds, cocking an eyebrow.
Catty's giggle at Bratty's real name earns her a facsimile of a frown from her friend, who then lets out a theatrical wail as her eyes roll back in her head. "The souls of the forgotten! They say that you, Brentworth, you will die of- of-!" She gives a little sigh and slumps over Catty. One hand lies gracefully across her forehead.
"Of what?" Flowey asks.
Bratty cracks open an eye, and then her smile returns in full-force. "Of being a jerk. His cold heart will, like, shrink into a stone and then he'll just fwish! into dust." She accompanies this with a wiggle of her fingers to demonstrate.
"Oh my dog, you wish." Brent leads them around the corner, then says "I don't even have a heart anymore. I sold it to try and kick off my acting career." He coughs and the sound of it has Chara imagining his lungs to be as black as tar. "Speaking of," he points a finger back in Frisk's direction, "I didn't see you kicking the boss man on live TV. You really let me down, little buddy."
"It w-was inevitable that they let you down," Flowey sighs. Chara gives him a look, trying to cut off anything derogatory before it starts. "They're just too short to hold you up."
Frisk gasps and shakes a fist at him.
"Wow, betrayal!" Chara yells. "He's only like three inches tall, you tell him that!"
But the teens are laughing and Flowey's giggling, music to their ears in the curiously quiet halls of the CORE, so they have to crack a smile too. It was kinda funny.
"I'm so excited though!" Ness says, hugging Catty's arm and slinging his other around Brent's neck, making the latter nearly tip off balance and forcing Frisk to hang on tighter. "How exciting is this?" He looks to Frisk. "This is exciting, right? A late night voyage to the capitol with friends to see the biggest event of all time!"
"What's that? Toriel- the queen's return?" Frisk laughs.
Ness's eyes shine. "Not just that. They've found the angel."
Flowey's laughter stops like someone's hit a switch. His face turns towards them, checking for a response. Chara folds inwards on themself, looking as if they've been betrayed. Frisk looks from sibling to sibling. When neither explains, they ask the teens. "Angel?" Flowey echoes them as if they've become nothing more than an afterthought and when they lift a hand up to touch his petals, he leans away.
"The angel of the Underground! Just waltzed right into the castle and introduced themself!" Ness enthuses, tugging Brent's arm excitedly. He doesn't seem to notice that he's even doing it. "The whole prophecy is real! 'An angel, one who has seen the surface, will descend and the underground will go empty.' They've been saying that since forever and it's finally coming true!"
"You mean it's too good to be true." Brent parades them across the darkened bridge, a move that strikes Frisk as very dangerous, especially given that they were attacked by Knight Knight the last time they were here. "Listen," he starts, "what I've learned in my nineteen years of life is that you can't trust dreams, even if they waltz up and introduce themselves."
"What about wishes?" Bratty challenges. "Hundreds of people can't be wrong!"
"But they can, Bratty. People can be wrong about lots of things. Triè believes that humans are all-" Catty makes her fingers into claws and sticks her tongue out "-all, like, evil. And the rest of the guard thinks so too. And Frisk isn't."
Burgerpants gives her a grateful look as he hops down onto the other side. Frisk lets out a breath they didn't know they had been holding when nothing comes out of the darkness below. "Exactly."
"Oh, so, mob mentality," Bratty says aloud. Then she shakes her head, setting her ringlets to bouncing. "That's kind of sad, B.P. That's like, we all believe that the Barrier will fall because the only other option is that we're all going to stay down here forever. Like, I want my family to be able to see the sun."
"Oh, come on! The sun's- the sun's- it's overrated, didn't one of you say that?" Flowey snaps. Frisk raises an eyebrow.
Catty looks subdued. "It's not like we meant it," she answers. "My family's been talking about the surface all my life."
"If the king believes it, well, that's five hundred years of life believing it. He's got to be right," persists Ness. He's too late, for the others are warming up to the subject with the vim and vigor of teenagers who are awake much too late at night and have completely forgotten how to be tired.
As Catty launches into a spiel about how age and wisdom can be mutually exclusive, she takes short, quick steps, which Bratty matches just enough to stay directly behind her. Ness takes springy strides around the group like he's trying to herd them. Frisk has mostly tuned out of the conversation, as political discussions tend to go over their head, but Chara listens mutely. Their soul within Frisk's burns with curiosity, catching up on the political views of kids about their age.
Frisk takes the time in which they aren't expected to contribute to tug on Chara's essence. The older child redirects their attention towards them. Frisk replays Ness's description of this angel, raising a questioning eyebrow. Chara reaches for them and Frisk allows themself to be drawn into a cuddle. Chara feels like they need it. "The angel, Mom and Dad liked to say it would be me. Funny, huh? You know me, I'm no angel, am I?"
They shake their head, smiling. They don't think angels have red eyes and that's what they say to Chara.
The spirit chuckles. "True. But monsters have red eyes, so I like them." They blink their red eyes at Frisk in a silly way, batting their eyelashes. "The angel's just an old story. A pretty little thing to tell kids. But it was kinda Mom and Dad's pet name for me and Az. Their little angels."
Frisk hugs them a little tighter.
"I know Mom hasn't forgotten me," they say in response to Frisk's unsaid reassurance. "I just, I get worried that Dad might've. And declaring someone the angel of the underground on meeting them is just- it's odd for him. Calling a kingdom-wide meeting is weird for him. He doesn't like making people do things. He's kind of a funny king, isn't he?" Frisk joins them in laughing at that, then they slip gently back into the real world, where the fearsome foursome are still arguing about politics.
Flowey on their shoulder is leaning forward, following the discussion from teen to teen with his whole body. He looks like he's watching a tennis match. Granted, as time goes on and the teens start reiterating the same points, he gets bored.
"How close are we to the exit?" he whines when a lull in the conversation comes around.
His question makes Frisk frown. They hadn't been too far from the New Home exit when they had blacked out, had they? It's been at least twenty minutes since they've woken up. Struck by a thought, they take out their phone. No new messages and their last message was stamped as read nearly half an hour ago. "Did any of you see a skeleton or a goop monster when you were walking?" they ask.
"No? You were the first thing we saw when we came in," Ness says. "Why? Did you lose them?"
Frisk shakes their head. "They went to go do something," they reply, unsure of what exactly. Papyrus's text had been so vague. Nobody pries any further, but no one has seen them either. The shifting anatomy of the CORE has struck again.
"It d-doesn't have p-power," Flowey mumbles. Frisk startles at what seems to have been a nifty bit of mind-reading and he sighs, having meant that for his own metaphorical ears. "The CORE's sh-sh-shifting w-w- without enough power. It d-duh-duh- it can't do that."
"Who shut it off then?" Frisk asks. "What is it running on?"
"D-dog's d-d-dust, Frisk, h-how do you expect me to kn-know that?" Flowey snaps. "I'm a flower, n-not a fucking engineer!"
"Can we just go home?" Chara groans.
As if by magic, they turn the corner and step out into New Home's brightness. Blinking away sunspots, Frisk twists back the way they came, staring at the too wide exit. Usually it's an elevator that brings them behind Asgore's castle. But now the castle is before them, somehow so much smaller than they had remembered. The buildings surrounding it are still dwarfed by its size. Mirrored sheets of glass or metal have been attached to the cavern ceiling, catching any sunlight from the cracks in the stone and refracting it down. The teens stare at it, struck dumb. Flowey nestles into Frisk's neck, hiding his smile in their hair. Chara, after they get over their initial shock, straightens Frisk's shoulders and lifts their chin. "Here we go," they say grimly. "Let's go seek an audience with the king." When Frisk blinks at them, Chara breaks out into a grin. "Let's go see Mom and Dad."
Frisk slides from Brent's back, standing between him and Ness. They stand close to each other, making Frisk feel as if they're safer. But Chara steps out of the space and gestures for the teens to follow. "If Asgore's calling an audience," Chara says, "he'll be calling it in the garden square."
'The where?' Frisk asks.
"Right, you've never seen it." Chara smiles. Images of a sunlit courtyard flash before Frisk's eyes. "It's his and Mom's favorite place. They built it way in the beginning. It's like a little piece of the surface, without all the humans and stuff." They tug on the feet.
"W-we're g-going to the g-gardens, right?" Flowey asks as they head down the road.
"Exactly!" crows Chara, feet pounding the pavement. There's a rush of footfalls as the teens chase after them, laughing and shouting. Chara flings their arms out to either side of them and crows their joy. They're going home. They're going to see their mom and dad. Nothing can stop them now.
…
Wingdings doesn't know how long he's been carrying Papyrus. He just knows that there is an arm around his neck, that his steps are slow and his bones ache and his glasses are cracked. He knows that his son has never been quieter. The soul behind the homemade armor is faint and the halls of the CORE go on forever and ever. One door leads into numerous dead ends and each door is exactly like the one before it. He had thought he had heard a girl shouting once, but it must have only been his imagination. They are alone here and his mind follows his steps in circles.
His hands shake. Healing only a fraction of Papyrus's leg had exhausted him. The makeshift splint on the leg is held together by strips of the shirt Papyrus had been wearing over his armor. His son makes little sound, even when they stumble and his weight comes down on the leg. All he does is breathe more sharply. They need to find a healer. Whatever was in the heart of the CORE had almost consumed them both.
He is purposefully vague about the nature of the creature, even in his own thoughts. He knows too well what it is. He has known it thirteen years. Fear grips him when he thinks of it, the fear that he had let it through. Even the fear that it is watching, right now, manipulating the lifeless CORE to confuse him, so that he and Papyrus will be trapped forever.
"Wingdings Gaster," says someone.
Surfacing suddenly from his thoughts, Wingdings looks for the source and finds it in the dog, who trots alongside them with a sedate expression on its furred face. There's a green cloth collar around its throat. Unable to call on even the strength to summon his hands, he nods, so overcome with relief that he has to smile. They're not alone in this horrible place.
The dog stares at him with unblinking button-black eyes. "You have destroyed the CORE," it continues. "The monsters are remembering."
He nods again. They hadn't destroyed the CORE in vain. But was it really worth it? His steps begin to drag. His body is becoming almost too heavy and Papyrus weighs down on his shoulder.
The clicking of the dog's nails on the tile contrasts with the slide of Papyrus's boots. "It is time to see the king."
The king must come first. No. He shakes his head as best he can. It feels like someone has poured concrete into his skull. He has to find a healer first.
"The king has found the angel of the underground. The queen has returned. It is time for all monsters to pay their respects."
"DAD," Papyrus starts, pressing down on Wingdings's shoulder as he straightens up. His eyes are clearer, but just barely. He looks distressed, but can't seem to find the words, like they've slipped out of his head. Wingdings stops moving, holding onto his youngest for dear life.
"It is time," the dog repeats, slipping up to press itself to Papyrus's leg, "for all monsters to pay their respects." Its voice seems almost feminine as it says the words.
The young skeleton's strength completely gives out again. His little cry of shock makes Wingdings summon up the last dregs of his magic and pour it into his son, trying to at least keep him on his own two feet. But Papyrus doesn't stand, doesn't get better. The magic slips past him, into the dog. It's stealing it.
"Not long now," the dog says, voice still so peculiarly blank. When Wingdings blinks, it repeats itself. "Not long now until we reach New Home." Its words sound darker this time. It seems pleased. Rage curdles in his stomach when he sees it move to lean on Papyrus's broken leg. His son squeaks, stumbling backwards to get away and falling outside of Wingdings's reach.
"I think you should leave us alone," he spits, speaking in the dialect he was named for to better get his point across. It hurts to speak, but there's something so unpleasant in the dog's expression as he leans over Papyrus to shoo it away that he has to speak to get it to back off. It steps back and he sees it again, the bitter, predatory look he had thought he'd seen in the True Lab. There is no way that this is the same little dog who found him in Grillby's apartment. Someone's playing a trick on them.
"Shoo!" he snaps, cracking the joints of his free hand. A magic attack pops into existence, albeit a weak one. He sends it rocketing toward the creature, who snarls a threat and scampers away into the shadows.
Papyrus staggers back onto his feet, swaying as if his world is rotating on a different axis and leaning heavily on the wall. "YOU GOT HER, DAD!"
"You gave me quite a scare, Papyrus Gaster," he scolds, tucking his arm back around his son to assist him. Papyrus's toothy grin shows how transparent his anger is. Wingdings softens, smiling back in spite of his worry. "How is your leg?"
"PERFECTLY FINE!" Papyrus chirps, but his eyes dart around too much for that to be true. And the way his knees rattle gives him away as well.
He sighs, tapping his forehead to Papyrus's temple. "What am I going to do with you, little hero?"
Papyrus puzzles over this for a moment as he limps down the hall. Then his expression brightens. "NYEH HEH! YOU FORGET, DAD, THAT I AM NOT SO LITTLE ANYMORE! ERGO, I CAN HELP FIGURE OUT WHAT TO DO WITH ME! FOR EXAMPLE! WE COULD GO FIND SANS AND TELL HIM ABOUT METTATON'S SHOW!"
Wingdings has to laugh at the perpetual positivity his youngest constantly displays, even in situations like this. "That may have to wait until after we find a healer. Until then, don't go off and get into fights with unidentifiable entities."
Papyrus beams at him, hopping on his good foot to pick up the pace. It's odd, but after Wingdings had banished the little dog, his despair had lessened. Papyrus is better as well, at least well enough to speak now. "Papyrus, did you notice anything strange about that dog?"
"YES INDEED! BECAUSE! THAT WAS NO DOG!" Papyrus's eyes narrow. "THAT WAS A WORM! I'VE SEEN THEM BEFORE. IN FACT, I HAVE DONE BATTLE WITH ONE! A VERY LONG TIME AGO!"
Wingdings peers at him. "And when would that have happened?" he asks slowly, wondering where Sans had been at that time. With everything that he's discovering, he's going to have to sit his older son down for a talk when they return to Grillby's.
"NYEH." Papyrus squints. "I DON'T REMEMBER YET. I WILL! DON'T WORRY! THE GREAT PAPYRUS NEVER FORGETS!"
"I am not worried." Wingdings assures him. "I must admit to being confused however. What is a worm?"
"THEY'RE FROM GERSON'S STORIES!" Papyrus answers. "THEY'RE SMALL AT FIRST, BUT THEY INFILTRATE PLACES FOR LIFE ENERGY AND THEN GROW TO BE AS TALL AS CASTLES! THEY'RE NO MATCH FOR BRAVE WARRIORS! GERSON TOLD ME HE'S DESTROYED AT LEAST TWO!"
"Did you know that one?" When Papyrus looks confused, Wingdings indicates with his chin the direction the dog had taken.
His son's eyes darken. "NO, I DON'T THINK SO, BUT I KNEW THE FEELING. WORMS ARE NOT NICE! THEY NEVER REPENT AND SO IT IS THE DUTY OF THE GOOD TO RID THE WORLD OF THEM!" He attempts to strike a heroic pose and yelps when he presses heavily on his bad foot.
"Goodness!" he cries, pressing magic into his son's soul.
"DO NOT FEAR! THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS ALRIGHT!" Papyrus hastens to say, lit by the green glow of Wingdings's eyes. "I WAS MERELY TESTING MY BALANCE!" He wobbles a little, poised as he is on one foot. "IT SEEMS MY BALANCE NEEDS IMPROVEMENT!"
"It does seem that way." He ceases the stream of healing magic and cracks the joints of his fingers. He wishes he still had the badges Frisk gave him. They had repaired his head and returned fragments of his memory before even the destruction of the CORE, but perhaps if he had waited, he could have somehow redirected a little of their magic to help Papyrus. As it is, he has very little idea of how to repair an adult skeleton's broken leg and so his magic works more as pain medication or a protective cast.
"SHE WAS WALKING WITH US FOR A LONG TIME BEFORE YOU NOTICED HER, DAD. DIDN'T YOU FEEL HER? THERE WAS ONE LIKE HER AT METTATON'S SHOW TOO. I DIDN'T KNOW BEFORE, BUT I REMEMBER IT NOW."
He summons a few hands and speaks in hands instead. Speaking is more of an effort than he had realized, and he's afraid of what his voice might give away if he uses it. "What do you mean? How would I have sensed her?" Papyrus had seen something like that at Mettaton's show?
His son hesitates, rubbing the end of his scarf between his fingers. "SHE PULLS MAGIC OUT OF PEOPLE. AND HOPE SOMETIMES. AND HAPPINESS. THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED TO SANS."
The list sounds very much like what being in the Void had felt like, so he's not surprised by the fact that he hadn't noticed it, even at Mettaton's show. But the last part, that catches him off-guard. "That's what happened to Sans?" he repeats.
"YES! SANS MADE A DEAL WITH THE WORM AND IT TOOK LIFE FROM HIM." Papyrus looks uneasy. "W-WOWIE, I DIDN'T REMEMBER THAT."
"It was an exchange, correct? What did Sans take in return?" The fear he feels crawling up his throat can't escape through his signs, so he simply keeps his face neutral. Frightening Papyrus might scare him into saying what he thinks might help, rather than what he thinks is the truth.
Papyrus shrugs, tucking his chin into his scarf in a troubled way.
Wingdings flashes back to the True Lab, where Alphys had said "Because monsters can't do that!" of Sans's tearing of space to retrieve him. "Was it power?" he asks. "Could he have asked it for power?"
"SANS?" Papyrus looks as if he's about to make a joke to relieve some tension, then his expression changes. "I DON'T THINK SO," he ventures. "I THINK HE SAW THE FUTURE. HE PLAYED LOTS OF PRANKS ON ME THAT WOULD HAVE HAD TO INVOLVE PRIOR KNOWLEDGE OF WHAT I WAS ABOUT TO DO! FOR EXAMPLE, HE WOULD HAVE KNOWN IF WE WERE ABOUT TO LEAVE THE CORE!"
Wingdings nods at that example, although the very idea of such a Faustian deal makes him sick. The area is growing brighter now.
"NO, DAD, LOOK!" The wall before them has been blown apart and light streams through the gap. New Home waits in the distance. Papyrus gives his signature laugh. "PERHAPS I ALSO CAN SEE THE FUTURE!"
"I don't think so, Papyrus," he says, trying for humor. As they pass through the makeshift exit, Wingdings reaches for the magical residue that surrounds it. It feels like the remnants of an explosion, but there's no scent, not of rot or monster. He looks over his shoulder for any indication of the person who had done this. He sees nothing. Somehow, that terrifies him more than seeing something would have. Without a face to claim the event, it feels like another in a long string of inexplicably strange occurrences, one he fears will end in New Home. Yet, he can't turn back around and try to find help in Hotland. He won't make Papyrus go all that way. But as they advance into the city, he gathers up his magic. The dog had wanted them to come to New Home, just as it had wanted him to destroy the CORE. Its end goal is as unclear as the future and he is so deeply afraid.