After being forced to trudge past nothing but trees, rocks, snow, dogs, and skeletons for the last five and a half hours, everything about this new town felt like a breath of fresh air. Actually, the events proceeding me stumbling into this town didn't matter at all in terms of it feeling fresh and new, because I'd never seen anything remotely like it in my life. I couldn't help but wander out into the middle of town, staring at everything as if I'd just crash landed on an alien planet. For the first time since waking up in the Underground, it felt like I was walking right through a dream.
The houses and buildings were small, old-fashioned hard wood often covered by bright snowy rooftops, as far from the cement and steel structures I'd grown up around as you could get. A warm orange candlelight flickered in every window instead of the harsh yellow from half-burnt out light bulbs in the city. But the actual surreal part that gave the town its dream-like qualities was, ironically, the things I was most familiar with. Multicolored Christmas lights dangled from every other cabin and even some of the thick evergreen trees, piercing through the haziness left by an earlier light snowfall, like sunlight through the dawn.
"Enjoying your little sight-seeing adventure there, kid?"
Enjoying? I mean, it was hard to tell, I was still trying to make a heads or tails of the emotions rushing through my brain. Enjoyment was probably somewhere lost in the mix, underneath total confusion, amazement, and overwhelment.
"Holy shit," I said plainly, finally recognizing the voice as Sans. He'd appeared behind me while I was gawking at everything the town had to offer. Which wasn't really much at all, as it appeared fairly small, but still enough to be dumbfounding.
Sans snickered at me, gesturing at everything around himself lazily. "Welcome to Snowdin. And, just a little tip, you might wanna wipe that look off your face. You're freaking out the locals."
Sans' jab snapped me back to reality. Sure enough, when I spun around to make sure he wasn't messing with me, I was met with the either accusing or downright baffled looks from 'the locals.' Thankfully there were only a few, a couple of rabbits and a larger than life grizzly bear, and none of them appeared ready to rip me limb from limb. Yet.
"Uh...they aren't gonna gang up and burn me at the stake witch-style, right?" I asked Sans in a hushed whisper, just to be safe.
He shrugged. "Probably not."
Well, that's reassuring, I thought.
"If anyone asks, just tell 'em you're a monster from the Capital, okay kid?"
"Won't have to tell me twice," I promised. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some of the monsters returning to business as usual, hustling and bustling through the snow with their own places to be. They must have figured that I wasn't much of a threat if I was talking with Sans so casually. "Being gutted like a fish by an angry crowd of bunnies isn't all too high on my bucket list." I reached into my back pocket and pulled out one of my shiny gold coins. "Any idea where I could blow...I mean, responsibly spend some of this cash? And, I dunno, maybe not starve?"
He shrugged again, which was probably his only method of moving the conversation along any further. "Maybe at the cabin conveniently labeled 'shop' that you passed by on your way in here?"
Crap. "Uh...yeah...right," I muttered weakly, slipping past Sans. And avoiding any and all eye contact, while I was at it.
An obnoxiously cheery bell rung overhead as I pushed open the door with a grunt and a wave of heat smacked me clean across the face. An orange glow illuminated the cabin, which turned out not to be a candle, but an old-fashioned fireplace off to the side. It wasn't very roomy, downright claustrophobic even, and there were pieces of total junk tossed here and there like seven fingered gloves, suspicious looking vials of green liquid, dusty old books bigger than an encyclopedia, and...I honestly couldn't tell what was wriggling in the sealed black garbage bag, but I'd tolerate anything for a roaring fire after tracking through the snow for hours.
At the sounds of the bell ringing and the door clanging shut, a woman tossed her head up from behind a counter, her rabbit ears flopping around carelessly. "Well, hi!" she sang, leaning over the counter with a smile brighter than the fire pit. She wore a simple white tank top, hat, and a pearl necklace. "Haven't seen your face 'round here before, at least, not that I can recall. You some kind of traveler?"
I didn't say anything right away, taking a moment to bask in the heat of the flames. My thoughts instantly flooded back to Toriel and her cottage, but I fought them off as quickly as they came. "I guess you could say that," I said at last, leaning against the brick fireplace absentmindedly. "I'm...uh...from the Capital!"
Smooth, double-o-seven, I chastised myself.
Thankfully, she didn't seem to pick up on the lie. Instead, she seemed genuinely surprised. "Really? I'd say we're no strangers to strangers around here, but it's actually been a mighty long time since I've seen a fresh face in town." She offered me a handshake, which I willingly accepted. Her borderline southern accent was a tad annoying, but I'd come across far, far more annoying monsters than her already. "Welcome to Snowdin! How can I help ya, little lady?"
"Still a dude," I corrected, sighing internally. It felt like I should've been angrier, but the weird effect seeing Snowdin for the first time was still hanging around me like a cloud of insects. Was it really that hard to tell? Or are these guys just that clueless about what humans look like?
"Oh! My apologies. How can I help ya, sir?"
"That's what I'm here to figure out," I admitted, shifting a little bit closer to the counter. "I guess...food couldn't exactly hurt right about now. I've been starving myself on candy, pie, cookies and ice cream for like, two days now."
"Shut your trap! Are you serious?" For a second, I feared I'd done something to offend her, but the look on her face was more of concern than anything else. Without another word, she spun around and fished something out below the counter top. I glanced at the door wondering if I should've gotten the hell out of there, but when she lifted her head back up, it was definitely no weapon in her hand. "Here, eat up, Hun. This cinnamon bunny's on the house. It's a special recipe of mine. And, keep this between you and me. No need for your parents to be up in arms over me feeding you a little sugar," she added with a wink.
"Yeah, you won't have to worry about my parents," I scoffed. I eyed the warm pastry sitting in her hand for a moment, debating whether or not to take her up on the offer. It had all the components of a regular cinnamon roll: frosting, cinnamon (duh,) and the works, but it had the added flare of coming in the shape of one of those chocolate bunnies people have around Easter.
"There's no...uh...actual bunnies in it, right?" I asked, not willing to take any chances. Seriously, those spider cookies were gonna haunt me for life.
The shopkeeper stared at me as if I'd just straight-up murdered her entire family. "The hell kind of store do you think this is, stranger? I ain't no cannibal!"
"Alright, sorry!" I hurriedly took the cinnamon bun from her, explaining the whole spider cookie situation in between bites just to make sure we stayed on good terms. I conveniently left out the part about the Ruins, so she wouldn't figure out I was lying about coming from the Capital. Wherever the hell that was, hopefully not on my way back to the surface.
She seemed much less insulted after I finished the story, although I may have been too busy enjoying the crap out of the cinnamon bun to be paying any attention. It was sweet, soft, and cooked a perfect golden brown, so pretty much as good as physically possibly, with the added bonus of healing that nasty gash on my elbow. SO good in fact that I didn't even stop to question how a cinnamon bun was any healthier than the junk I'd already been eating.
Still leagues worse than a butterscotch-cinnamon pie, though.
"If ya ever need another bite to eat, grab one over at Grillby's," the shopkeeper suggested. "It's just down the street from here. Although I wouldn't expect anymore handouts from those guys. In fact, you're lucky I gave you anything."
"Got it. Thanks for that," I said, wiping the last crumbs from the cinnamon bun off my face.
"Anything else I can interest you in?" she offered. "Maybe...something that fits you a little better?"
It took me a moment to realize she was talking about the hoodie. "Oh, yeah, it's not mine." I tugged at the sleeve, as if that made it even more clear that it didn't belong on my skin. Or any skin, technically.
"Mm hmm," she hummed, tapping her fingers on the desk as if she couldn't wait to sell me something for real. "I thought I'd seen it on one of those skeleton fellas. Sans, I think?"
"Yep. He's a...good friend of mine." We'll call that one a half-lie.
"Really? Then you wouldn't happen to know where those jokers came from, would ya?" she inquired, placing a large sealed chest on the counter with a loud thunk and the clamber of what looked to be a screwdriver. "I lost the key to this awhile ago, so you'll have to bear with me."
"Whatever. And about the skeletons? Sorry. No clue." So the skeleton brothers weren't from around here, either? "I kinda figured they'd always lived around here."
That's right, keep half-lying. Just keep digging yourself into that ditch you hopefully won't ever have to claw your way out of.
"Well, then you'd always thought wrong, stranger," she sighed, twiddling with her screwdriver before plunging it into the chest's keyhole. "Those goofballs just showed up one day, and kinda...asserted themselves." Her face pinched, as if a skunk had somehow snuck in here and sprayed the whole place. "Things have certainly been a lot more interesting since then."
I smirked at her. "Lemme guess; That's the 'nice' way of putting it?" Did these people need to weave their way through Papyrus' puzzles and traps every single day? 'Cause I would probably flip at around day three, let alone day thirty-three, let alone day three-hundred and thirty-three. By then the entire town's population probably would've been lost in the first Snowdin Chainsaw Massacre.
She offered a shrug and not much else. "Beats nothin' ever happening at all, I suppose." With one last grunt, she finally managed to pop the top off the chest. "Alrighty, lets see what we got here."
I waited in silence as she fumbled with the contents of the chest, all of a sudden feeling really eager to change out of Sans' hoodie. The smell of dried up ketchup and other condiments really starts to get on your nerves after awhile, and it fit about as well as that seven fingered glove sitting in the corner would on my awfully inadequate five fingered hand.
"Here's what I got for ya. Take a look." She dropped the pile of shirts and jackets on the counter without even looking at me.
The shirt on the top of the pile immediately caught my eye. It was a simple blue sweater, wool from the look of it, with light purple stripes that complemented the original color like peanut butter to jelly. Felt soft, too, and was almost exactly my size.
"I think this'll do nicely," I said after a minute.
She held up the sweater by the collar. "This one?"
Now it was my turn to turn up my nose. "Hell no! I wouldn't be caught dead, alive, or in limbo wearing that thing! The one under it."
I held up my actual choice, a dark gray zip-up fleece with jet black sleeves, which seemed to be just my size. It was a little worn and dusty for sure, but there were more pockets and about one hundred percent less ketchup stains, so the choice ended up being pretty trivial. I threw off the hoodie and pulled on the fleece over my T-shirt just to be sure.
"A perfect fit," I boasted.
"That's all fine and dandy, but can ya pay for it?" challenged the shopkeeper, wearing another, sharper smile on her face. She held out her paw, thinking up a price I was positive I wouldn't be able to afford. "...You know what, that old thing's been sitting locked up collecting dust for the longest time. I'll give it to ya for forty gold. No more, no less."
Seriously? If the ice cream was fifteen, then I'm basically robbing this woman blind. "Deal." I checked my pockets for the money, coming up with one-O-five gold. The extra forty must've come from a pile left by that behemoth of a dog after I'd conquered it.
A moment later, I spent another fifty gold on a bit of a risk, something called a 'tough glove.' It was a worn out, pink glove made of some kind of super-tough material. Basically, punching people would be like smacking them around with a brick, which would no doubt come in handy at some point or another. God damn puns are infecting my brain like the plague.
A moment later and I was strutting out of the shop styling in my new digs and my fifteen remaining gold as if I owned the place. By which I mean staying within spitting distance of every building I passed to attract as little attention to myself as possible. Normally, I'd figure being a human in a monster-filled town would alert the entire frigging continent, but they still refused to pay me any mind. I never allowed myself to feel safe, though. All it took was for one random person to call me out on it, and they'd all come running in a huge pack like paparazzi. Except, instead of snapping terrible photos and accidentally trampling whatever celebrity they're hopelessly chasing, the blatant murder would be completely intentional. And they'd probably get a kick out of it, too. And be let out onto the surface. And raise hell for every other human up there.
Probably best not to get recognized.
"I guess I should get this back to Sans..." I muttered to myself, tossing his hoodie up and catching it again. Great job drawing absolutely no attention to yourself. "Lets see...if I were the laziest skeleton known to mankind...monster-kind, where would I go to waste my time?"
I skipped over an inn the shopkeeper had suggested I stay at, figuring that'd be the last place I'd find him. Wasn't about to throw the last of my gold away losing sleep in a place full of monsters, either. Maybe at the-
"-Yo! You're a kid too right?"
I turned towards the ear-gratingly high pitched voice screeching at me from under a Christmas tree in the middle of the street. (Or whatever the hell they called their Christmas rip-off holiday down here.) A little monster stood under it, with pale yellow skin a few shades darker than the star topping the tree, and wimpy spikes running down his back, ending in a flimsy tail. I was halfway done forming a really devastating insult involving a velociraptor, a porcupine, and a cartoon character he reminded me of (although I couldn't quite think of whom) until I noticed something. Something off about him.
The kid didn't have any arms under that striped candy-cane shirt of his.
"Who's asking?" I said instead, nearly stumbling over my words. Even I wasn't about to directly insult the disabled. Especially not on...Christmas? "And what the hell is up with all the decorations around here? Were the jack-O-lanterns and fake cobwebs just too expensive to work into the budget?"
The little punk gave me a look as if I was speaking in another language. "Huh? You mean the tree, the lights, and gifts?" He spoke in a hyper tone, probably from downing too much Christmas chocolate at once. "What, dude, is it your first time in town?"
"Yep. Literally my first time around the block," I confirmed. "Mind filling in the blanks for me, kid?"
He rolled his eyes at me, sulking closer to the bright lights. "Some jerks made fun of a dude who lives around here a few years back," he huffed. "They decorated its horns, so a bunch of the grown-ups started giving him presents to make him feel better." He jerked his head towards the presents. "So now we put gifts underneath a decorated tree every once in awhile."
I nodded. Apparently it's not some dumb Christmas rip-off. It's a dumb original holiday that just looks like a Christmas rip-off. "Great. Enjoy the free stuff," I said, turning to leave. After all, this hoodie wasn't about to return itself.
"Hey, wait!" he called after me. I didn't stop. "You didn't answer me earlier, man! Are you a kid too, or not!?"
"Sure, I'm a kid!" I yelled back, waving him off over my shoulder.
The last thing I heard him say was "COOL!"
I was back to looking for Sans, and stopped in front of yet another possibility for where he might be hanging out. And what was undoubtedly the most out-of-place thing I'd ever seen anywhere.
A big orange sign taking up the entire upper half of the building read "Grillby's." The shopkeeper had recommended me to stop there if I was craving another bite to eat, but I quickly passed up the idea of entering there alone. It didn't seem like the kind of place to welcome strangers with open arms, between the stagnant "open" sign that should've probably been flashing colors, dark and cracked bricks that were slipping out of their cementation, and the distinct smell of alcohol flooding out of the windows. Even if Sans was in there, I think I'd prefer just holding onto his smelly hoodie a little while longer over setting foot in that death trap.
The next stop on the road was much more inviting, at least by comparison. It was a smaller, simpler structure, and one I'd never heard of before on the surface. A sign over the door read "Librarby."
...I face-palmed when I realized they spelled it wrong. Not because the idiots running the library somehow managed to spell the name incorrectly, but because I didn't recognize the word even sooner. The irony there was just too rich to sift through.
Once I got over the most embarrassing spelling error since "Colombia" versus "Columbia," the idea of a monster library actually started to sound really cool. I'd shelved the idea of reading any monster related literature since poking through Toriel's dusty old bookshelf of snail facts and history books, but now I'd been given a second chance. Now, whether or not Sans would spend any time there...
...I'm sure the lazy bones appreciated a good book to kill some time on every now and then.
"Welcome to the library," droned the woman behind her desk as I opened the door. She looked like your typical librarian, tiny glasses, pinched face, wearing an ugly old sweater that went out of fashion thirty years ago. The only minor difference was that she was a bird with dull green feathers. Like I said, minor. "And yes, we know the sign is misspelled," she cut me off the moment I opened my mouth.
How the hell did she know?
All the bookshelves were shoved against the far wall, so it took just one look around the whole room to tell that Sans wasn't there. No one was really hanging around to begin with, aside from a few crusty old lady monsters sitting around a table, collecting dust faster than the books.
Oh well, it appeared Sans wasn't here either. What a shame. But wouldn't it be an even greater shame if I passed up the opportunity to read some authentic monster literature? I guess as long as I was here, I might as well check out some books. For science, or something.
The first that caught my eye turned out to be some ankle-biter's school report they left lying around on one of the shelves. "Monster Funerals," the title read. Should be interesting, at least. Short too.
"Monster funerals, technically speaking, are cool as heck," I read aloud. Wow, only one sentence in and I'm already rolling my eyes at how crap this is. Must be a new record. "When monsters get old and kick the bucket, they turn to dust." Gross. "At funerals, we take that dust and spread it on that person's favorite thing." Gross and weird. "Then their...their essence will live on in that thing." Because that's how logic works. "Am I at the page minimum yet? I'm kinda sick of writing this." God dammit.
After tossing that solid D- in the trash, where it rightfully belonged, I moved onto the next book. "Humans vs. Monsters: A study on...humans and monsters."
I flipped through this one pretty absentmindedly for awhile. Most of it came off as annoying anti-human hate speech, until I eventually came across something interesting. "While monsters are mostly made of magic, human beings are mostly made of water." There's that word again. Magic. Must be a little bit cooler than yanking rabbits out of hats down here. "Humans, with their physical forms, are far stronger than us." What else is new? "But they will never know the joy of expressing themselves through magic." Yeah, I wish. Swear to God I'm never sitting through another one of those shows again... "They'll never get a bullet-pattern birthday card..." What?
No matter how hard I scoured each shelf, I couldn't, for the life of me, find a single god damn novel in the entire library. Not that there were an overwhelming number of books to chose from, but seriously? Not even a crappy one written in, like, five days? There weren't any other tots who attempted to write a novel of their own? Did monsters even write anything other than educational books?
Yeesh. I shuddered at the thought. Having monsters leap out and try to kill you all the time was one thing, never being able to see the sun again was another, but living in a world without any actual writing? Count me out. Even scarier was the stink-eye the librarian was shooting me as I tore up the place looking for a novel. I made a mental note to pick up the place when I was done, because "death by librarian" was definitely in the top ten lamest ways to die. Even a monster librarian.
"Fearing the humans no longer, we moved out of our old city, HOME," I sighed, so desperate to flood my eyes with words I actually picked up another history book. "We braved harsh cold, damp swampland, and searing heat..." Damn. If Snowdin is the harsh cold, then I still have a little ways to go before I get out of here. That is, if there's no other way out. "...Until we reached what we now call our capital. 'New home.' Again, our king is really bad with names..." I chuckled at that last part, suddenly glad I decided on picking up another disappointment. I mean, book.
"Because they are made of magic, monsters' bodies are attuned to their SOUL." The very culmination of their being. "If a monster doesn't want to fight, its defenses will weaken. And the crueler the intentions of our enemies, the more their attacks will hurt us. Therefore, if a being with a powerful SOUL struck with the desire to kill..."
I slammed the book closed. That one left a foul taste in my mouth, as if I was physically swallowing one of Sans' puns.
...Still, in a grotesque way, it was reassuring to know that if it really came down between life and death, I could...deal with them quickly. No blood, no gore, no mess.
No problem.
I pulled one last book over to distract myself, and entertain my thoughts a little longer. "Love, hope, compassion...this is what people say monster souls are made of. But the absolute nature of "SOUL" is unknown. After all, humans have proven their souls don't need these things to exist."
Yep, and I'm officially done. I wasn't going to sit here and be berated just for existing any longer. I quietly slipped the book back, and without casting a single glance at anyone else around me, exited the Librarby.
Wait, what was I doing again?... Right, right! Where the hell is that damn skeleton?
I started farther down the road, past a large colorful house with two mailboxes out in front - one overflowing with unread letters, and another one beside it that was emptier than my remaining patience. The lights were on, but the door was locked tight, and no one came to answer when I stood there banging at it for what felt like an hour, but was probably closer to thirty seconds. Eventually I gave up and kept searching, but the last structure on the path was an equally locked shed resting beside the house (believe me, I tried to pry that sucker open until my fingers felt like falling off).
So I kept trotting along merrily...minus the trotting...and the merriness, to the outskirts of town, where the path narrowed and the signs of civilization abruptly disappeared.
"Seriously, where is that pun-loving, slipper-wearing...brother-tolerating bastard?" I demanded of no one, making a futile attempt to brush oncoming snowflakes out of my face. The very instant I'd skipped town, little pellets of snow had begun to pepper the air. They kept gathering and gathering in clumps with more falling every second, until I could barely even make out the outline of trees a few feet in front of me. Where are they even coming from? I asked myself. No clouds plus no moisture should've equaled no snow, but logic didn't mean crap when you were dealing with creatures made of magic, which had been proven to be true time and time again.
"What the hell am I doing?" I said at last, stopping dead in my tracks. There was absolutely no reason for me to be out here in this blizzard with snowflakes clinging to my hair and clothes like lice. Sans was nowhere to be found, and what reason did he have to be out here, anyway? I'd bet anything he was chilling at Grillby's, the one place I couldn't have been bothered to check, ignoring the snowstorm with a warm cup of hot chocolate and cracking puns to whoever was unfortunate enough to be within earshot.
But the second I turned away to trek back to town, defeated and quickly losing the feeling in my fingers, a figure emerged from out of the fog.
"Sans?" I called out of desperation. "Is that-"
"-Human," a familiar voice replied, muffled by the sound of the wind. "Allow me to tell you about some complex feelings."
I rolled my eyes, even though there was no way he could possibly see it. "Yeah, sure thing Papyrus, but how 'bout we talk about it later? Maybe not in a massive blizzard?"
The self-proclaimed puzzle master was too far away to make out any facial details, but the shadow of his scarf-cape thing gave it away instantly. It was hard to tell from where I was standing, but it looked like he was scratching at his neck nervously.
"You see, that is precisely what we need to talk about." I was about to counter his statement by reminding him how much fun freezing to death was, but Papyrus was once again in that the zone of his. He kept talking faster and faster, flailing his arms around like an over the top actor at the silliest performance imaginable. And with each word that tumbled out of his mouth, I could've sworn the snow fell just a little bit quicker. "Feelings like the joy of finding another pasta lover, the admiration for another's puzzle-solving skills, and the desire to have a cool, smart person think you are cool. Those feelings...they must be exactly what you are feeling right now!"
Yeah, we really are birds of a feather, aren't we? Moron. Get on with it, Papyrus, I can hear all about how great you are later, I mentally urged him.
"I can hardly imagined what it must be like to feel that way," he continued, switching to a more sympathetic tone. One that only served to piss me off even more.
"I'm sure you can," I muttered.
"After all, I am very great. I don't ever wonder what having lots of friends is like."
"I'm sure you do," I said, louder this time.
If he heard me, my words didn't do anything to deter his rambles. "I pity you...lonely human..."
And that was it. That was the last straw that broke the camel's back. The storm seemed to swirl on every side of us, drawn to my anger like moths to a very, very bright flame.
"Pity me?" I demanded, taking a step towards the cocky little bastard. "Do you know how God damn SICK I am of listening to you bitch and moan about your problems, blaming every last person, insect, or snow particle for your problems?!"
"H-Human!?" Papyrus chattered, clearly startled by my sudden anger.
Good. He should be.
"You are like a God damn leech, you know that?" I spat. It was so satisfying, to finally blow up at him. To let him know once and for all how everyone really felt about him. Now I was calling the shots. He had fallen into one of my traps.
"You know why you don't have any friends?" I didn't stop approaching, and wouldn't. Not until I could see that blood boiling face of his clearly. "Because people don't give a single solitary shit about how great you are. Because you only care about yourself." Finally, I was close enough to see his face recoiling in disgust, and pure confusion. "Because your cooking sucks ass. Because your brother is more fun to be around than you. Because you're an egotistical maniac who hides behind the illusion that he's better than anyone else."
Now, my face was mere inches from his. Never had I seen a creature so...so pathetic. Noodle arms, paper thin armor, and a face that had been lying to itself for so long.
"Reality check, Paps? You will never be a member of the Royal Guard."
At first, neither of us moved. The words hung in the air beside the snowflakes. We stood there, probably frozen in the cold for a full, agonizing minute where neither of us knew how to continue.
...Why do I feel like such a piece of shit? Shouldn't it have been gratifying to sink my teeth into this walking cesspool of ego and aggravation? Shouldn't I have felt accomplished? Shouldn't I-
"-OW!" I stumbled back a few feet, clutching the injured part of my face with my left hand. Once I'd finally felt decent enough to stand again, the sight before me left me in a different kind of awe.
Papyrus was standing there on shaking legs, in the same place he'd been, panting heavily with a blood-stained bone in his hand. Looking horrified at himself. Staring st the place where he'd struck me as if the world were coming to an end over it.
I pulled my hand off my face. Bloodstains.
"Very well, human," Papyrus finally spoke up, in a weak, unsteady, but dead serious voice. He dropped the bone to the ground without even glancing at it, already adding more to his clutches. "I had hoped we could have been friends...but I see now that this was a foolish wish."
Oh God. What have I done?
I ignored my injury long enough to quickly slip the tough glove on one hand and my toy knife in the other, dropping Sans' hoodie and the bottle with the snow piece beside me. Ready to fight, more or less.
"...But thank you, Human, for I am no longer distracted from my true goal." His normal goofy grin and wide, childish eyes were exchanged for an accusing glare and a horribly, horribly straight face. Taking a fighting stance, he finished, "I will capture you! THEN I WILL FULFILL MY LIFELONG DREAM!"
"POWERFUL!"
"POPULAR!"
"PRESTIGIOUS!"
"I'm gonna knock some sense into that thick skull of yours, Papyrus!" I said at last, taking an even worse fighting stance, the pain in my face screaming at me to stop. But what choice did I have?
"THAT IS PAPYRUS! THE NEWEST MEMBER OF THE ROYAL GUARD!"