The witch tore the air with her blackened fingers and kicked Sans into the void.
Wicca looked down at the bloodied and broken saw blade lying on the cold tile
...she followed after.
Chapter 23
The Loyal Servant, Undyne
The witch stepped through the portal and felt a rush of cold air stream past her face. Colors blurred past her and streamed into an unintelligible scenery that twisted and curved. She felt motionless, bodiless. A heavy weight of contentment fell around her, and she let out a pregnant breath. But, it was gone just as quick as the whirling space between had come.
Wicca sucked in a breath and coughed until her lungs burned. She stuck a hand out and caught the wall next to her. She wiped some spit from her mouth as her eyes adjusted.
She was back in Grillby's closet.
She closed her eyes.
She was back.
Before Wicca could take a second to relish in that fact, she was knocked to the ground by a pile of bones just as the door creaked open and a stream of beautiful light crept through.
(-But hadn't Sans-)
"Sans, Mrs. Wicca?" A tentative voice asked.
(-Gone through first-?)
The witch opened her eyes to find herself tangled in Sans' ribcage. With an ugly glare, she pulled her arm from between his fifth and fourth rib bones while ignoring the skeleton's own pointed look.
Papyrus's eyes widened, "Normally I would come back later, but Wicca, you need to get out of here." The girl tilted her head. Something was wrong, especially if Papyrus was calling her Wicca instead of Ms. Fear gripped her heart suddenly, was she in the right place? Did she accidently go to another world?
No.
No.
If that was true than Papyrus wouldn't know her name.
She was back, something was just wrong.
Right.
Something was wrong.
The taller skeleton opened the door wider and stepped into the closet. With a strong tug, he managed to free witch and monster from each other. Once they stepped out, Wicca embraced Papyrus in a furious hug.
"Please don't ever wear spandex." She whispered into his side.
Before the skeleton could dwell too much on that strange request, the door to Grillby's burst open.
Wicca still hadn't let go of Papyrus when heavy footsteps shook the floor and stopped just before them.
Wicca still hadn't let go of Papyrus when a guttural voice demanded that she must leave.
Wicca still hadn't let go of Papyrus when an armored arm grabbed hers.
Wicca still hadn't let go of Papyrus when she let her coins spill from her purse, where they slowly, one by one, lifted from the floor and floated, and spun, with an orange sheen.
Wicca still hadn't let go of Papyrus when her hair seemed to dance in a gust of imaginary wind with glowing eyes, or when she stretched her blackend fingers and the coins flew like bullets toward their unfortunate target.
Wicca let go of Papyrus when she felt the murmur of magic slicing through the air. The witch's nose crinkled in dissatisfaction at the sight before her.
Sans, panting, let his arms fall to his sides. A series of bones varying in height had sprung from the ground, halting the witch's coins.
"Well, this is special," The girl crossed her arms as she looked at the intruder, "I figured that I would have a bit more time before the bogeyman came to get me," the witch snarled, "Undyne the Undying."
Something from within the sharp visor stirred, glowing an electric green.