There's a rather small skeleton sitting at the bartop. There's not much of him you could see over the bartop but what you can is a blue jacket with a greyish white hood. He has it zipped up this time, hiding the white t-shirt beneath the fabric.
- the Skeleton.
He's drunk...
Again.
Just the very thought has the Fire Elemental sighing softly. This wasn't the first time this had happened and it wouldn't be the last.
It happens so many times, they actually have a pattern.
- would get drunk and tell the bartender all his problem:
Time Lines, Resets, Murderous Children, Gaster.
He's heard it all, yet he listens each time as though this is the first he heard of any of it. He's not sure why he doesn't speak up, doesn't let **** know he's not alone in this repeated hell. He wants to...
But he doesn't.
He can't. **** has told him multiple times how grateful he was the Fire Elemental didn't have to endure that Hell. No matter what, he cannot permit - to know.
So he doesn't.
Instead he does what any good friend does: He listens, he cares, he looks after the skeleton to the best of his abilities. And if he other should fall into dust, he fights the Demon himself and- eventually- he dies.
"You wouldn't understand Gr-," The skeleton speaks, his grip tightening on the bottle the other knows he should probably take away soon, "That Demon... I thought this time would be it... Everything was going so well... but then it..."
The other doesn't need to finish, Gr- knows. There would be no one to call to pick up - tonight.
After all, they where the last two left.
They stay with Toriel for two weeks before Frisk comes and tells him about the door in the basement. Its not very surprising to find his younger Nibling is already wanting to leave, they stayed much longer then Harry had originally expected them to and Frisk had always been an adventurous soul.
He tells them to meet him downstairs while he, himself, begins to restock his hiking bag. He doesn't know what's waiting for them on the other side of the door so he packs what he believe is necessary:
Water, food, a blanket, extra clothing, his medical bag, a couple of book Toriel had given him, their gold and a small set of throwing knives he had carried with him that day they went up the cursed mountain- better to be safe then to be sorry- before glancing around the room he shared with Frisk once more and heading out.
Its strangely quiet in the house, Toriel's chair is empty expect for the book on snails sitting face down- he takes a moment to enter the kitchen and take the Pie she left to cool, replacing it with a note- before packing it away too. He takes the stairs two at a time and all but breaks into a run when he smells something burning.
When he was young, he discovered fire couldn't hurt him after his Aunt attempted to burn his hands over an open flame. What for most would have been serious third maybe even fourth degree burns left not a mark on his skin. His Aunt had screamed bloody murder when she noticed before hitting him over the head with a frying pan- spilling the boiling oil inside all over him- while shouting about Freaks and their Freakiness.
It was an ability he didn't quite understand then and even now didn't, but there where times- much like this one he was thankful for it- or else those fireballs Toriel was throwing around like spare change might of actually hurt.
Frisk couldn't help but smile as they skipped down the purple hall, all too pleased with theirselves.
For once Toriel had been rather easy to defeat and they didn't have to do anything but make sure Harry was between them and the motherly goat monster's fireballs- Their brother's strange ability concerning fire had made him the perfect living shield. What a shame he didn't appear to be bone resistant as well...
Oh well, they where certain if it became truly required their loving brother would all too happily throw himself in front of any blaster or bone attack the comedian decided to send their way- Sans just couldn't seem to let the past go.
Maybe this time, they would actually make it to Snowdin instead of being blasted the moment they set foot outside the RUIN's door.
The first thing the emerald eyed teen noticed about this new room was the picket sign in the ground.
It was kind of hard not to notice it to be honest, seeing how it was placed within the center of the room and had bright yellow words written upon it in what appeared to be a child's scribble reading:
Do NOT Step Here.
There was a bright neon arrow underneath the words with what seemed to be flashing lights of assorted colors around it. The arrow itself was pointing to what appeared to be another of those yellow flowers from the first chamber though this one appeared to be a bit more worn down, almost as if someone had repeatedly stomped on it.
Some one really should plant that thing into a flowerpot as it obviously wasn't safe where it was, even with the giant sign overhead.
Frowning softly, the ebony haired teen begin to dig in his bag. He was certain there was something in there he could use as a makeshift flowerpot until he fount a proper one. He didn't have many options- he didn't climb a mountain to plant a garden after all- but luckily there was a small pot he could use that should be more then enough to plant the small flower into.
Nodding to himself, Harry turned back towards the flower, fully indenting to remove it from the ground only to find the buttercup was missing.
Strange...
Originally Flowey the Flower had intended to confront the blasted human that kept running him over, he had intended to make his usually speech and put the fear of God into the two, he had intended to gain the other's full blown attention and fear.
Yet the moment the elder's back was turned- the perfect opportunity- he had glimpsed the younger child and ran; cowering deep within the Earth where no one- human or monster- would be capable of reaching him.
Not Papyrus.
Not the Smiley Trash Bag.
And especially not the child with the younger child, who had only moment before been staring down at him with those demonic eyes, physcotic smile and knife in hand.
