They got up then, walking towards the purple entrance.
"I'll be here if you want to come visit again… hopefully your wounds heal up quickly, Frisk."
They nodded their head in response, walking into a purple room, with two stairways leading up to the same entrance.
As they approached the door, opening it slowly, they seemed to feel the sensation of being teleported somewhere. They heard a chair rocking, along with the sound of pages flipping.
Frisk, as quietly as they could, peeked into where the sounds were coming from, and saw another monster, with white fur, and dull red eyes, similar to their own dull gray eyes. It was a woman they assumed, looking at her eyes and clothing.
She was reading a book, something about snail recipes, which made Frisk make a face. Sounded disgusting. Not that they could argue though, they only got scraps from dinner that their parents gave them.
Their parents had abused them, by only feeding them at dinner time, slapping them whenever they didn't do as they said, and treating them as what you could call a slave.
The monster's ear twitch a little, which made her look up where Frisk was watching her.
"Who's there?"
They felt as if they needed to come out from where they were hiding, and showed themselves to her.
Her eyes lit up for a slight moment, as if happy for a second.
"And who are you?" She cocked her eyebrow at them.
Frisk looked around for a pen, or something to show the dull-eyed monster their name.
They opened their mouth again, and shook their head.
"You cannot talk, yes?"
They nodded their head.
"I see. Hold on a moment." She left for a moment, leaving Frisk alone in the room she was just in. A tan colored theme, with a fireplace that wasn't lit. The rocking chair in front of it, with the snail recipe book set in the seat. A bookcase was nearby with similar titles, with something that looked like a coat-rack next to it. A table with three chairs was on the other side of the room, with a small fake plant in the middle of it.
"Here. What is your name? Mine is Toriel, I am the caretaker of these ruins. Though in most recent years, my job is meaningless, it is rather boring down here."
Toriel handed them a small yellow notepad and pen, which they wrote down 'Frisk' on it.
"Frisk, you say? What a lovely name." They held out the notepad and pen back to Toriel, but she shook her head.
"No, you should keep it, small one. You may meet others down here, and you will need some way to communicate." She paused for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, then back down at them, while Frisk held the stack of paper.
"Though, if I may ask, why can you not talk? I have had one other similar to you, though they could not hear, but could speak."
They scribbled the word 'mute' down on the same note.
"Ah. So it is like someone took away your voice, yes?"
They nodded their head after a moment of thought.
"Would you like to have a change of clothes and a few bandages? You are wounded badly, though I can never realize these things until later, as these old eyes can't notice much anymore." She sighed.
Frisk nodded their head, smiling up at Toriel.
"Miracles can happen, huh? I haven't seen anyone smile in hundreds of years. Well, alright then. Though the only clothes that might actually fit you are a little older. No one has worn them in years. I hope this is still alright."
They followed Toriel into a pink colored room, covered in dust, and small cobwebs. She walked to a closet, in the corner of the room, and pulled out a green and yellow striped hoodie, missing the hood, with some grey shorts, and scratched cyan sneakers.
"I will go grab the bandages from my room. You may take your time to change. Stay in here. " Toriel walked out of the bedroom, and shut the door behind her.
Frisk looked down at their ripped and bloody clothes, and got changed before she came back with the bandages.
The hoodie was a little big, but it fit fairly well, and the shorts and sneakers fit well.
"Frisk? May I come in? Knock once if I can." They walked over to the door, and knocked their fist once on the door.
Toriel came in, holding a lot of bandages, setting them onto a dresser next to the closet.
"Alright. Show me where you are wounded."