They stare at the path ahead of them. They wonder if they should feel…something, but there's just emptiness. No wonder, no fear for the trail ahead.
Mt. Ebott looms ahead, it's peak covered in soft, white fog.
They step onto the trail and begin their hike.
They don't look back.
/
The legend repeats in their head.
Anyone who climbs Mount Ebott disappears.
It's almost strangely familiar, and for a moment a flash of yellow overtakes their vision. They shake their head.
They look ahead and keep hiking.
/
The hole yawns before them, a deep abyss of darkness. They wonder—is this the reason why no one ever comes back?
Do they all fall here and die, deep within the recesses of the mountain, trapped? Or do they just disappear? Gone, like ashes in the wind?
They like the sound of the latter idea.
They take a deep breath. They came here for a reason; after all, no one will miss them. They're nothing but a burden to the people who have raised them.
They step forward onto empty air.
They fall.
/
The flowers are yellow and soft and springy, and they smell like butterscotch. Their eyes open, and for just a moment, they think they can see that red-eyed twin, smirking down at them.
Then the apparition is gone, and they sit up.
They're alive.
They curl in on themselves. They…really shouldn't be.
But they are.
Why?
/
Flowey is terrifying. Adrenaline floods their system, sending a shock of awareness through them as they hold their arms close to their chest.
The flower's face morphs brutally into a monstrosity, and they flinch back, cradling the glowing heart in their arms protectively.
"DIE." The flower snarls, it's fangs dripping.
And then there is fire and a goat-lady who smiles so gently that they can feel themselves relaxing even as the adrenaline makes their limbs heavy with exhaustion.
They follow her through the Ruins, letting themself zone out; yellow flowers keep flickering in their vision, and the sweet-spicy smell of cinnamon and butterscotch won't stop haunting them.
But they brush it away, and continue. Because maybe, there might be something here for them after all.
Maybe.
(and maybe, if they'd been paying attention, they would have felt the shifting of another inside their head, soft and sleepy and oh-so-familiar, accompanied by butterscotch.)
(and if they had paid attention, they might have realized why the red-heat-haze of their heart—SOUL—was so familiar.)
(But they didn't.)
/
There's dust, everywhere. Everywhere, covering them like flour, and they shudder.
Goat-lady—Toriel—was so kind, but hadn't wanted them to leave. They have to, though, they have to.
There's something out there that they have to do, they have to get out; but how they're going to do that they're not sure.
So they leave, brushing past that tall door, covered in that fine, fine dust and the weight of the world in their heart.
(they don't notice the presence that laughs in the back of their mind, cruel fingers winding into them.)
/
It's cold.
There's white everywhere, and they can't help shivering as they curl in on themself, their ratty sweater doing nothing to protect them from the icy chill.
But they still walk on.
They can't—won't—stop.
/
They meet Papyrus, and Sans.
The two skeletons are so happy, and they can't help the smile that floods their face when they think of the two funny monsters. But they have to leave, turning their back on the snowy cheer of Snowdin.
They don't want to. But they have to.
They can't help remembering the sweet-spicy smell of cinnamon and butterscotch, and the soft hands of Toriel and her calm motherly—
They shake their heads.
They step into the wetness of Waterfall.
/
The glowing stones gleam above like stars, and they lean back, staring up.
"pretty cool, huh, kiddo?"
It's Sans. The skeleton plops down beside them, grinning. His faded blue jacket looks almost luminescent in the glowing lights.
They nod.
"hey, uh, i wanted to say—thanks, for humoring pap, y'know? means a lot."
They don't answer. Sans shifts, looking at them for a moment. Then, they reach up to the stars, and for a moment hot sticky blood trails down their wrist. They blink, and it's gone.
"…stars."
They say, and Sans blinks.
"uh, come again?"
They just keep staring at the pseudo-stars, and almost-memories of half-remembered nights, staring at the stars through different eyes flicker behind their eyes.
"come on, kid, don't patella me that you're spacing out."
They can't help smiling, and they look at Sans, dropping their hand. Sans grins even wider.
"so what're ya doing skullking around out here?"
They pause, and shrug.
They sit there, and Sans sits there too.
(the dust is still in their sweater, and they can't help shivering.)
/
They stare up, up, up, at the twinkling, bright lights littering the sky.
They're out, they made it.
But something's not quite right.
They still have dust in their sweater, and something snickers.
You killed them, it mocks. Not all of them, maybe, but enough. You really do have LOVE, don't you? Let's get more. Blood everywhere, doesn't that sound fun?
They shake their head.
There's something at the tips of their fingers, and they reach. The presence stops.
Going back, now? Good.
They reach into that something, and for a single flicker of a second, they see that gray-man with that sad smile, and they see so much—
[RESET]
They wake up again, staring at the tiny, grayed out sun above, surrounded by rocks and shadow. The presence laughs.
Let's win this game.
They'll make it right.
/End.\
well...this is a little disjointed. But it's supposed to be that way, a little bit.
Thanks for reading!