AN: ... boy howdy I sure did fall down a rabbit hole of writing and drawing UT stuff since the last time I updated this 8'D I'd meant to just take a short break while I finished up 'Winter in your Bones' and now here we are thousands and thousands of words later... -coughs-
Anyways, enjoy the chapter! I'm going to be trying to work on all my stuff cyclically so we'll see how that goes -snorts-.
Remember to drop a review and tell me what your favorite part was! I love hearing that from you guys!
HEY IF YOU WANT MORE OF MY UNDERTALE CONTENT then make sure to check me out over on AO3 where I write as joliemariella! I've actually got a lot more stories over there that I don't post here because apparently FF doesn't like reader insert anymore? Also check out my UT tumblr (jolie-in-the-underground) where I post my fanart, and also some written exclusives! You can even drop Seraphim Sans an ask, if you want!
Angels in the Underground
Chapter Six: The Far Shore
The water of the river was ice cold and stole Frisk's breath away as she was dragged into the depths by its brisk current. The impulse to breathe in with the shock of it was too much for the little girl to resist and she choked as inky water poured into her lungs. Flailing for something, anything to grab onto, Frisk's feet found the bottom of the riverbed and she kicked off it. She surged to the surface a moment later, coughing and gasping for breath as her body rejected the liquid that had infiltrated it.
The swimming lessons her grandmother had insisted on every summer since she was five came to Frisk's rescue, letting the child keep her head above water even if she didn't have the strength to fight its pull as it carried her further and further from the remains of Rivertown.
With her walking stick still clutched tight in one hand, treading water wasn't easy, but it was doable, allowing Frisk a chance to listen in hopes of finding her way to shore. The roar of the river around her was deafening though, overwhelming her delicate senses. Giving up, she struck out to perpendicular to the current in hopes of finding safe harbor. A distant bark made her hesitate, though, and shout, "Dog?" There was another bark, closer this time and she cried, "I'm over here!"
She could hear panting, and then, there was a tug on her stick, as though something had latched onto it. Frisk kicked hard with her legs to keep her head above water as she used her free hand to reach out and find a small, familiar, furry body that had latched itself onto her walking stick with it's teeth. "Good Dog!" she gasped as she started treading again, nearly going under when a dip in the river shifted its flow significantly. The Annoying Dog seemed to be kicking as well, and the child found herself tugged back up before more than her nose had been submerged. "Which way's shore?" she asked it hopefully. The animal hadn't lead her astray thus far, so all she could do was trust that it would guide her to safety once more.
Dog growled around its mouthful, and started tugging her away towards the right. Figuring that shore must be closest, the little girl followed the animal's lead and struck off in that direction. It was a battle that was quickly sapping her strength, though. She'd swam plenty growing up, but doing so in a pool was not at all like in a river she was beginning to realize.
Breathing hard and heart beating out a panicked tattoo in her chest, Frisk kept swimming even as she noted a change in the way the river around her sounded. Dog tugged more firmly on her stick and thrashed its little legs even faster as it attempted to escape something, but the child's trembling, exhausted limbs couldn't keep up. The water surged again, and Frisk instinctively took a deep breath the moment before they were cast up against a rocky outcropping that slammed her walking stick out of her hand, sending both it and dog spinning away with a yelp.
"Dog!" she cried and clutched desperately at the rocks that had separated them. There was no bark of response this time, and Frisk was quickly whisked away once more when the strength in her chill fingers gave out.
The river must have branched and narrowed, she realized distantly through her haze of growing exhaustion. The crashing of the fast moving water against its banks sounded much closer now, so Frisk threw the last of her strength into an overhead stroke that carried her at an angle downstream until her feet found the river bottom once more. She stumbled ashore, panting and trembling, only to fall to her knees when she reached the shallows.
run, dammit! she'll kill you!
Sans' frantic supplication echoed in Frisk's ears and drove the child to her feet once more, rather than allow her to collapse on the shore as she so desperately desired. Her tread was unsteady as she started forward, ears aching with the effort of her listening for any hint of Undyne's approach.
Terror spiked in her heart at the thought, but sheer determination helped her keep her head. If she was going to find Dog and Sans and Pap, she had to keep away from Undyne. The needs of her body were making themselves known, though, and she knew she didn't have the strength to go far.
Fortunately, the tall grass she and her friends had encountered many times on their journey through Waterfall thus far grew in abundance here along the river, and Frisk plunged in amongst it with a sense of relief. The child took care to mask her passing as best she could without being able to see, straightening the bent stalks that towered well over her head.
Far enough in that she could reasonably hope to not be seen from the shore, Frisk dropped to the ground and finally allowed herself to rest.
Cold, dripping, and utterly alone, the child sat in silence for a time and prayed that Undyne would not spy her hiding place. Instinctively, Frisk's hand went to her chest where the pendant of her necklace hung heavy beneath her sodden sweater and fetched it out. Though she had no recollection of what it looked like, the girl's fingers had already memorized the weight of it in her palm, and the delicate engraving that covered its surface. She knew, she just knew that while the front was covered in some sort of floral vine motif, the back was engraved with writing she could not quite puzzle out. Not for the first time, Frisk tried to decipher it in an attempt to distract herself from her fear of the unknown that now pressed in on all sides. Eventually, though, her thoughts drifted to Dog and she hoped it was alright and had also managed to get ashore. And poor Papyrus; he had been so very brave coming to her aid against his friend. She had been so happy to find Undyne had not hurt him, but now she found herself wondering if that fact had held true after their second altercation.
Sans, though… What had Undyne done to him ? There had been the sound of chains and a strange spell the archangel had woven over him before he'd begged her to run. Before his voice had cut out and she'd been left to her own devices for the first time since she'd met him.
Tears began to roll down Frisk's cheeks unchecked and she struggled not to make a sound, though her shoulders shook and her hands trembled with emotion. The child pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms tight around them so she curled into a ball, making herself as small and unobtrusive as possible. Eventually, exhausted by her time in the river and the stress of not knowing if her friends were still alive, let alone doing well, Frisk sagged to one side so she lay in the fetal position, tears still trickling freely down her face.
She remained like that for some time until a small sound warned her that she was no longer alone in her grassy hideaway. The child immediately went rigid, but did not dare move for fear of giving her position away. Worse yet, the sound of footsteps on the rocky shore behind her belied the arrival of a second, larger presence that had her covering her nose and mouth to keep from breathing too loud. Panic spiked in the girl's heart, but she did not move so much as an inch as the steps moved closer and began to wade in amongst the tall grass.
Frisk curled up a little tighter when the new presence stopped barely a yard away, then lunged forward with the speed of a striking snake.
The world was warm, soft, and smelled faintly of fresh bread as Sans hovered on the brink of unconsciousness. His limbs felt leaden, and even cracking his eyelids felt impossible in that quiet, sublime moment of total peace spent at the edge of oblivion.
He felt so tired.
There was something he knew he ought to be doing, but for the life of him he couldn't put his finger on what it might be. Couldn't even lift his finger. There was a familiar voice calling his name, though, and he inhaled at long last, not having realized until that moment that he had stopped breathing in the first place.
"SANS, WAKE UP!"
The seraphim's eyes fluttered open, and it took a few seconds, but he was eventually able to focus on the long, pale face hovering over him. It was Papyrus. His brother looked more than a little worse for wear and was clad in his lightweight silver and leather armor, crimson wings half-mantled behind him.
"sup, bro?" Sans rasped, the action of speaking surprisingly painful and finally giving him the energy to raise one hand to his neck. His left brow also hurt, though in a less immediate way that let him ignore it for the time being.
A soft, huffing laugh of relief and disbelief escaped the much larger skeleton, and Sans was surprised to see tears spring to the corners of Papyrus' eye sockets. "YOU WEREN'T MOVING," the archangel said, voice quaking with emotion as he brushed them away.
Memories were settling over Sans like so much snow, and he went rigid as it all came back to him. "where's frisk?" he asked, sitting bolt upright before surging unsteadily to his feet. Power that had burned low in unconsciousness flared back to life and eased his pain once more.
Papyrus reached out to him instinctively, but hesitated at his brother's question. "SHE-" he began, then paused and dropped his head, the sight making Sans' stomach drop. The archangel lifted his right hand, and in it was Frisk's crown of golden flowers, sodden, but still in one piece. Sans took it with trembling fingers that belied the horror his face did not. "I TRIED, SANS," Papyrus said, voice cracking as his tears began in earnest now, rolling down his angular cheeks to drip off his chin. "I CAUGHT UP TO HER AFTER UNDYNE BOUND YOU, BUT WHILE WE WERE FIGHTING..." The archangel shrugged helplessly, expression agonized. "SHE MUST HAVE GONE OVER THE EDGE OF THE BOARDWALK. HER AND THE ANNOYING DOG."
The whole world seemed very far away to Sans as Papyrus explained. Though the seraphim did not so much as waver where he stood, he felt rocked to the deepest reaches of his soul.
"where's undyne now?" he asked, voice unsettling in its lack of emotion.
"SHE MUST HAVE GONE AFTER FRISK ALREADY," Papyrus said, withdrawn and unnerved by his brother's unusually calm reaction to his terrible news. There was a storm brewing beneath that cool facade, he knew, but he had no idea just who it might be unleashed on when the time came. "I'M SORRY," the younger angel said, voice anguished. "UNDYNE GOT THE BETTER OF ME. SHE KNOCKED ME OUT BECAUSE I HESITATED. I DIDN'T-" he hesitated to admit the truth and dropped his head into his hands, unable to meet his brother's eyes.
Sans watched Papyrus, feeling both exhausted and galvanized simultaneously as his magic roared just beneath the surface of his bones. His brother was right, there was a storm brewing in the seraphim's mind, but there was no inclination to unleash it on Papyrus, who, good hearted creature he was, had done his best under difficult circumstances. Even Undyne, stubborn thing, had only been doing her duty.
No, the anger blossoming in Sans' soul was all for himself.
"you didn't want to hurt her because she's your friend," the seraphim finished for his brother. His tone had gentled, drawing Papyrus' gaze back to his face.
Some of the tension eased from the archangel's shoulders and he nodded unhappily. He might have said more, but he seemed to notice something about Sans' face that distracted him. Papyrus rose to his knees from where he had been crouched by his brother's prone form and reached out to cup Sans' face in his gloved hands. The seraphim tried to jerk away, but Papyrus held him fast, frowning as he examined his brother's face.
"what are you-" Sans began.
"YOU'RE RUNNING HOT, AREN'T YOU?" Papyrus accused his brother, suddenly angry and concerned all in the same moment. "YOUR BROW IS CRACKED, I CAN SEE IT!"
This time Sans did pull out of his brother's hold, though that didn't stop the accusatory look being leveled at him. "i had to," the seraphim answered coldly. "you think i could have beat her without doing a hard burn?" he complained, tone bitter now. "not that it mattered. even with magic i'm too fucking useless to-"
Papyrus slapped him. The force of the blow snapped Sans' head to one side with the force of it and made the seraphim blink in surprise.
The archangel seemed almost as surprised, but when his brother turned to meet his eyes again, he was also completely unrepentant. "I TOLD YOU I'D DO IT," he said, fierce and defensive. "I TOLD YOU I'D SLAP YOU IF YOU EVER DID THIS AGAIN, SANS! N-NOW TURN IT OFF BEFORE YOU BURN UP OR I'LL DO IT AGAIN!"
He had, Sans remembered then, though the promise was one his brother had made years ago. As the seraphim's pain had become worse over time, he had fallen back on burning magic to dull it, just as he was doing now so he could keep up with Undyne.
At first it had only been when the pain became too much to bear, just so he could get enough sleep to let him function normally. Sans had never figured out if burning magic had somehow aggravated his old injury over time, making the pain worse than ever; or if the magic had simply lowered his pain tolerance, making what had once been somewhat bearable an inexpressible agony.
Whatever the case was, the habit had eventually become a full time one, an addiction Sans had been unable to deny even as new pains began to crop up in places they had never been before, the magic wearing away at him from within until Papyrus had finally put two-and-two together.
It had been an ugly fight. The only one they'd ever really had, and Papyrus had won.
It'd taken careful watching and what Sans had referred to as 'flat out bullying' at the time, but the seraphim had gone cold turkey in the wake of their fight and not given in to the temptation again since.
Until today.
Papyrus could see the magic pulsing in the depths of the new crack in his brother's left brow ridge. It curled all the way from his empty socket to halfway up his forehead in a thin line. The magic was faint, but it glittered distinctly to a practiced eye, as though Sans' head were a geode. Crack it open and the wealth within would be exposed for all to see…
The archangel shuddered mentally at the thought, though was distracted by the light's sudden fading when Sans let the magic return to its source deep within his soul. Its sudden absence left the seraphim feeling cold and empty until the pain returned, hot, fresh, and sharp as ever.
Sans' vision went dark around the edges, then bled white as he began to shake and struggled not to vomit. He could hear his brother speaking, voice low and gentle, but the words didn't register beyond their general soothing tone. Eventually, the symptoms faded and left the seraphim aching and nauseous, but back to normal.
"TAKE IT SLOW," Papyrus chided him gently as Sans pushed himself back to his feet after having dropped into a crouch without realizing it when the magic died.
"we don't have time," Sans rasped, wincing a little at the new pain in his neck from where Undyne's binding spell had caught him. His wrists also hurt, though less sharply thanks to the cushion his jacket had provided them. "we need to split up and find frisk," he added grimly, the twisting in his guts less for the pain he suffered and more out of fear for the child he'd sworn to protect.
Some job he'd done so far.
"I THINK WE SHOULD STICK TOGETHER," Papyrus said, frowning at his brother's suggestion as he too climbed to his feet. He kept a careful eye on Sans as he did, though he seemed just as concerned for the child in question.
Sans shook his head. "i need you to stick with undyne. follow her, let me know if she finds frisk before i do, and do what you can if she does." Papyrus looked ready to object again, so Sans continued, "you're the only one that can keep up with her, pap. if you don't, she could nab the kid and have her back to asgore before we even realize it."
Eventually, the archangel nodded reluctantly, recognizing the wisdom of this plan. He might be able to find Frisk faster than Sans, But Sans would never be able to keep up with Undyne. It had to be him.
"good," Sans said, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. It was a long shot if Frisk had fallen into the water, but he'd try anything at this point. Papyrus watched nervously as his older brother quickly scrolled through his contacts list and called Frisk. Both angels felt sick with nerves as the phone rang once, then went automatically to voicemail, making their stomachs drop.
Sans swore vehemently and shoved the device back into his pocket. Papyrus had already taken several steps back and spread his crimson wings in preparation for takeoff. He gave them a deft flick to settle his long feathers, though the seraphim did not miss the small twinge that crossed his brother's face when he did so.
"you alright?" Sans asked the archangel, guilt tugging at his soul for not asking sooner. Concern for Frisk had overridden that for his brother, though the seraphim knew well that Papyrus could more than take care of himself. Frisk, however… "she get you with that pig-sticker of hers?" he pressed as he stepped forward and gave Papyrus a once over. His little brother looked worn and a bit battered, but had no immediately obvious wounds, which put Sans at least somewhat at ease.
"NO, I'M FINE," Papyrus said, then scowled. "MY PRIDE IS THE ONLY THING SHE REALLY INJURED," he said, feathers ruffling at the admission. Undyne had well and truly gotten the best of him, and it was clear that stung the younger archangel.
"never should have made that damn thing for her," Sans grumbled more to himself than his brother as he reached up and placed a hand on the archangel's damaged breast plate. It was dented, and had a small puncture where it had been breached by Undyne's spear. He muttered a string of Enochian, weaving a deft, much practiced spell to repair and reinforce his brother's armor with the superior craftsmanship he had been so renowned for in centuries past.
"DID YOU THINK THE SAME THING OF MY SWORD WHEN FRISK AND I FOUGHT?" Papyrus asked lightly as he glanced down at his brother's handiwork and ran an appreciative hand over the now gleaming, unblemished surface.
Sans snorted lightly and stepped back. "no," he answered. "i knew you didn't want to hurt the kid." What he didn't voice was that the thought of Papyrus not carrying the rapier he had crafted specifically for him sent shivers up his spine. The archangel was his own person, but Sans would be lying if he said knowing Papyrus wielded one of the most powerful weapons he'd ever forged didn't bring him some small comfort when times were hard and they were separated.
Papyrus' brow furrowed as he turned his attention down to his brother and said, "UNDYNE MEANS TO KILL FRISK, DOESN'T SHE?"
Sans met his eyes and simply answered, "yes."
"IF I'D BROUGHT FRISK TO ASGORE… HE WOULD HAVE KILLED HER TOO. TO FREE US."
"yes," Sans repeated, more quietly this time, though he did not avert his eyes.
After a moment, Papyrus pulled his gaze from the seraphim's, expression unreadable, though the set of his shoulders clearly communicated his distress to Sans. "AND YOU-" he began, then hesitated. After a moment, he pushed on, "YOU'RE WILLING TO STAY DOWN HERE FOREVER IF IT MEANS SHE CAN GO FREE?"
"yes," Sans replied without hesitation. "it may have been asgore's sins that landed us down here in the first place," he continued, "but it's not right for a human, any human, 'pure of soul' or not, to pay the ultimate price for our freedom." The seraphim had allowed his gaze to drift out across the river while he spoke. His hands tightened into fists in the pockets of his jacket, but a small noise from his brother drew his attention back to the archangel. Sans nearly gave a start when he saw the teary-eyed expression on his brother's face. "w-what?" he asked, wrong footed by this sudden show of emotion.
"N-NOTHING," Papyrus said and wiped furtively at his eyes, then laughed wetly and admitted, "IT'S JUST… THAT WAS THE MOST… THE MOST YOU THING I'VE HEARD YOU SAY IN A LONG, LONG TIME." Sans had no idea what to say to that, and his brother just smiled. "YOU'RE RIGHT, OF COURSE. WE'LL PROTECT HER, SANS, NO MATTER WHAT."
Sans nodded mutely and watched Papyrus take a few steps back and spread his wings wide in preparation for take-off once more.
The archangel hesitated a moment, then said, "ELLIE WOULD BE VERY PROUD."
Before the seraphim could respond, Papyrus leaped into the air and sped away, a crimson blur that rapidly disappeared into the dark mist that hovered over the river. Fighting back the tide of emotion that threatened to swallow him, Sans gave himself a shake and collected the backpack he'd abandoned at the beginning of his fight with Undyne. He settled it comfortably on his good shoulder before placing Frisk's crown on his own head for safe keeping, then took a breath before breaking into a run and leaping across the gap in the boardwalk.
Running was an agony the seraphim forced himself to endure as he crossed the river and followed its winding bank in hopes of finding his lost charge.
There was a loud, startled yelp a handful of feet to Frisk's right, and the girl tightened herself into an even smaller ball in an effort to not be discovered.
"Oh come on ! Are you kidding me?!" Undyne's now familiar voice demanded from somewhere overhead.
"H-hi, Undyne!" a new voice said as it was lifted free of the tall grass and held up to where the much larger archangel could get a good look at it. It was high and reedy, distinctly different from any Frisk had heard since falling into the Underground. Despite the fear that had her heart pounding almost deafeningly in her ears, the girl couldn't help but think that this new angel sounded… young.
"Go home, kid," the archangel growled and lowered her handful back into the grass from which she had plucked it. "I'm on a mission here, I don't have time to babysit today."
"A mission?!" the boy (at least Frisk thought it sounded like a boy's voice) exclaimed excitedly. "Can I help? Please?!"
" No, " Undyne answered in a tone that could be described only as beleaguered. "Get home, Raz. If your parents come crying to me that you've gone missing again I'm gonna fly back out here and tan your hide, got it?" she threatened.
"That's what you always say," 'Raz' groused, sounding as though he were kicking absently at the ground with one foot as he spoke.
"YEAH, WELL THIS TIME I'LL DO IT!" Undyne bellowed. There was a gust of wind as she spread her broad wings and sprang into the air in one graceful motion. "Don't you doubt me, kid! Now get home!"
"I just wanted to help," Raz grumbled aloud, then sighed hugely and started walking.
Unfortunately, his path through the grass carried him directly into Frisk before she could so much as sit up. He tripped over her and fell face first into the ground with a shout while Frisk yelped and winced when his foot caught her in her already bruised ribs.
Raz sputtered and spit out a mouthful of grass and mud, and Frisk could make out the frantic flailing of his wings as he righted himself. "Hey!"
"I'm sorry!" Frisk gasped as she rolled over and scooted away hurriedly, heart beating frantically in her chest at being discovered. Would this new angel call for Undyne? The little girl trembled as her exhausted body prepared to flee the scene once more. She'd managed to escape the archangel's notice twice now, surely her luck wouldn't hold out much longer…
"Oh it's alright," Raz said. "You shouldn't nap in the grass like that, though!" He paused then, seeming to notice the girl's disheveled state for the first time, asked, "Hey, are you okay? Did you… did you try to swim in the river or something? That's really dangerous you know."
There was genuine concern in the angel's voice, which gave Frisk pause in her thoughts of escape. Once again she was struck by just how young he sounded compared to every other angel she'd run into so far. Not only that, but assuming he wasn't bent over at the waist to talk to her, Raz sounded to be approximately her own size.
"I-" she began, then paused and sniffled a little as the terror of her afternoon came back full force and made her hands shake. "I fell in and got s-swept away," Frisk answered as tears pricked the corners of her eyes, making her cover her face and sniff again in an attempt to stifle the emotional display.
"Really?!" Raz asked, sounding horrified as he stepped towards her again and dropped to the ground at her side. "That's terrible," he said and wrapped one of his wings around her shoulders in a consoling fashion. "I'm Raziel, but everyone just calls me Raz. What's your name?"
Frisk went rigid in surprise at the gesture from the strange angel, but soon relaxed again when it became obvious he meant her no harm. Raz's wing was far smaller than Sans', despite the older angel being only an inch or two taller than herself. Raz's wing couldn't be more than a few inches longer than Frisk's own arm at full stretch, she realized as he patted her shoulder with it in a soothing fashion.
"My name's Frisk," she replied unsteadily after a moment's consideration.
"Frisk? That's a neat name," Raz said, smile apparent in his voice. "Hey, I bet if I ran and shouted I could get Undyne to come back!" the angel suggested brightly, perking up at his clever idea. "She's always helping people and-"
"No!" Frisk said, fear and horror lancing through her at the suggestion. She reached out to Raz and gripped his shoulder tightly for emphasis as she continued, "Please, please don't! Undyne… She's the reason I fell in the river in the first place. She hurt my friends! I don't even know-" the child's tears came in earnest now as her control cracked, and Frisk could no longer disguise her distress. "He said she'd kill me if she found me!" the girl sobbed as she mopped hopelessly at her eyes with the sleeves of her already soaked sweater.
"A-alright, I won't! I won't call her," Raz said, sounding distressed and totally out of his depth as the girl around who he still kept his wing began to weep openly. "Please don't cry?" he asked hopefully with the air of a boy who'd not had much experience with girls, let alone crying ones.
"I'm s-sorry," Frisk wept, unable to stop now that she had begun. "I just… I want Sans! A-and Papyrus, and Dog… But I don't know where they are, and I think U-Undyne really hurt Sans."
"You're friends with Sans?" Raz asked, completely wrong-footed by this news. " And Papyrus?"
Frisk turned towards the angel slightly and nodded, hiccuping a little as she frowned. "Yeah. I mean, unless there's more than one? My Sans and Pap are skeletons with big wings on," she hazarded tearfully.
Raz stared at the girl for a long moment, seeming to really see her for the first time since he'd tripped over her and accidentally made her cry. She was a mess. Frisk's hair hung in wet tangles around her face, and she had a sizeable bruise beginning to bloom on her right cheek, as well as an assortment of other scrapes on her hands. Her clothes weren't in much better shape after her time in the river; shoes waterlogged, a hole in one knee of her leggings, and a tear starting at the shoulder seam of her sweater. She was, however, undeniably human.
The angel was young enough that he had never seen a human in person before, but he'd watched the same movies that washed down from the surface everyone else had, so he liked to think he knew what he was about in this regard.
"Why were… why were Undyne and Sans fighting?" he asked, having more difficulty getting his head around this idea than the fact that he was speaking to a real live human in that moment.
Frisk wiped her nose surreptitiously on the sleeve of her sweater and shrugged unhappily. "Because I'm human, I guess," she admitted. "Undyne wants to kill me and take my soul so Asgore can use it to break the barrier, but Sans and Papyrus don't want her to. They're trying to help me get home." Frisk tilted her head slightly, seeming to remember who she was talking to. An uncertain note entered her voice as she asked, "Do you want to kill me too?" She seemed too tired to even begin to make an escape, whatever his answer might be, however.
"What?" Raz asked, wing dropping from the girl's shoulder in his horror at her straightforward question. "No way!"
The human blinked at his vehemence, and pressed on, better judgement apparently cast to the four winds. "Even though it'd mean you could escape the Underground?"
Raziel scooted away from the girl, brow furrowed and soul in turmoil at the turn the conversation had taken. "I-I like it down here fine," he mumbled, and it sounded to Frisk as though he curled in on himself some. "I've never even been to the surface," he admitted.
Frisk's brows went up in surprise as she canted her head to one side. "Really?" she asked. "How old are you?"
"I'm still young compared to everyone else around here. I'm only thirty-one," the angel answered with a sigh.
"That's not young!" Frisk exclaimed and laughed, making Raz start backwards. "That's old! "
"No it isn't!" the angel huffed, feathers fluffing irritably. "How old are you then?"
"I just turned ten," the girl replied and wiped at her quickly drying cheeks.
Raziel made a noise of consternation. "But that means you're just a baby! "
"Am not!" Frisk gasped and would have pushed the boy had he been closer. Having apparently reached an impasse, she thought for a moment then suggested, "I guess humans and angels age differently. I mean, I know angels live a lot longer, so that makes sense, right?"
Apparently appeased by this concept, Raziel nodded and smiled, "Yeah, that seems right."
There was another moment of silence while Frisk brushed a hank of wet hair back from her face, only for her fingers to come up empty when they sought her flower crown out of habit. Horror lanced through her like a knife and she sat bolt upright, startling her companion. "My flowers!" she exclaimed and began to feel around the grass in the vain hope they'd fallen off after she'd entered the grass. When was the last time she'd had them? In Rivertown for sure, but then she'd gone in the river and-
"What flowers?" Raziel asked. "I don't see any flowers."
"I had… I had a crown of golden flowers before I fell in the river," she explained, pantomiming a crown on her head. She moaned unhappily as tears threatened at the corners of her eyes once more. "Ohhh if I lost them..."
Wanting to forestall any more tears, Raziel jumped to his feet and said, "I'll go check by the river, you stay here, okay?"
"O-okay," the girl stammered thankfully as the angel did just that. "Thank you."
While he was gone, she felt around a little more on the off chance Asriel had simply overlooked her crown amongst the grass, but came up empty handed. When he returned a few minutes later she turned to him hopefully, but the lack of immediate exultation on his part told her everything she needed to know.
The crestfallen expression on the human's upturned face made Raziel wince. "Sorry, I didn't see anything," he said unnecessarily, and the sad way she nodded made his failure hurt all the more.
Raziel was well loved by his mother and father, he was old enough to appreciate that (though by angel standards he was not much older than Frisk herself), but being one of only a handful of children born after the Fall, and by far the most recent, finding himself in the position to help someone weaker than him was unusual. His parents were protective of him. Even angels of no relation were protective of him, given the rarity of children in the Underground. The birthrate among angels had been low before the fall, but after it had practically stopped. Raziel didn't know anyone within fifty years of his own age.
"Maybe if I walked along the shore I'd find them… " Frisk murmured to herself, pulling Raz from his own thoughts. Her unhappy expression deepened, "But then Undyne might see me… "
Coming to a decision, Raziel said, "We probably won't be able to find your flowers, but what if I help you find your friends?"
Frisk gave a start and turned her face up to him, hazel eyes wide. "R-really? You'd do that?" she asked, stunned by the offer. Her expression became one of uncertainty, however, as she continued, "But earlier I heard you saying you wanted to help Undyne."
Raz grimaced. "Yeah, but I didn't know she was trying to kill someone! I'd never help with that!" he exclaimed, surprising himself a little with the strength of his conviction in that fact enough to blink. He adored Undyne, practically worshiped the ground she walked on and longed to be just like her someday. He had a brief moment where he wondered if he would have followed her had he realized just what her mission was without having met Frisk first.
The fact that he wasn't sure gave the young angel pause and made him examine himself more closely than perhaps he ever had in his young life.
Eventually he shook himself free of his thoughts and toed the ground absently as he said, "Besides, you seem nice and you're lost. Mom always says we should help people in need, it's how the Creator wanted us to treat each other, angel or human."
Frisk considered his words and her options for a moment. It didn't take a lot of mental math to know that she had to either accept this young strangers help, or risk crossing Waterfall on her own without her friends, her dog, or even her handy walking stick. She wasn't the sort of girl to back down from a challenge just because she was blind, but she was smart enough to know when the proverbial deck was stacked against her.
Even that aside, though, Raziel seemed as nice as he apparently thought she was. He had a sweetness to him that put Frisk in mind of Papyrus, and made her more inclined to trust him than she might have otherwise been.
"Alright," she said and smiled up at him. "I'd really like that."
Raziel felt his soul flare brightly in his chest when Frisk looked at him, and in that moment he knew he was making the right choice helping her rather than turning the girl into Undyne. "Great!" he said, flushed with excitement right up until he realized he had no idea where they ought to go, or how to get there. "So, where'd you see Sans and Papyrus last?" he asked, figuring that was as good a place as any to start.
Frisk got to her feet and brushed herself off as best she could and answered, "Sans called it Rivertown; or what used to be Rivertown, I guess."
"Oh, I know where that is!" Raziel said brightly, though his enthusiasm subsided some as he continued, "Undyne spends a lot of time there… I bet Sans and Papyrus wouldn't stay there once they realized you were gone."
Frisk nodded thoughtfully at this, certain he was right. "But we can't just search all of Waterfall, can we?" she asked with a frown, though. "Could you… could you carry us both with your wings?" the girl hazarded. She knew his wings were quite small, but she had no idea how that might affect an angel's flight, considering they all seemed capable of using magic.
"No," the angel admitted unhappily, sounding a little embarrassed by the fact. "I'm too young. I can't even carry myself yet," he added with a sigh.
"Well," Frisk said, chewing one of her nails absently as she thought. "I know where we were going. Maybe when Sans and Pap don't find me anywhere in Waterfall, they'll go to Hotland like we'd planned?"
The girl very resolutely did not allow herself to add ' if they're still alive '. She might start crying and never stop if she did, and she had to be strong if she was going to get out of the Underground in one piece.
"Yeah, I bet they would!" Raziel agreed eagerly, nodding emphatically at her suggestion. "There's only one road into Hotland, too, so that makes it a lot easier!" He grinned and added, "I even remember how to get there!"
A huge surge of relief washed over Frisk and gave her a renewed sense of purpose and the energy to keep moving on. "Oh good," she said happily. A thought occurred to her then, and her smile faded a little. "Before we go, though I should probably tell you something, though."
"What's that?" Raz asked, head cocked curiously to one side. Frisk could hear the way he flexed then settled his wings to neaten his feathers while he waited for her pensive reply.
"I'm blind," the child blurted out. "Normally I don't have to tell people, but angels never seem to notice on their own, and I thought you should know." She hesitated again, then asked, "Will you still help me? I mean, I-I understand if you don't want to… "
Raziel stared at her for a moment, actually having to process the concept. As Sans had pointed out to the child before when he had had the revelation, blindness wasn't really a thing among angels. Raz was, at least, familiar with the concept, even if it was a foreign one. "Of course I'll still help!" he exclaimed, suddenly happier than ever that he'd agreed to be her guide. He didn't think his mother would have ever let him come home again if he'd left a blind girl to wander around Waterfall by herself, human or not.
Frisk's narrow shoulders sagged with relief and she smiled once more. "Thanks," she said.
"No problem," he said with a careless shrug and a sunny smile. The gesture brought something else to mind, though, and it occurred to him that if she was blind, then he wasn't the only one that needed to be told something. "Oh, uh, I guess you probably don't realize then." The girl tilted her head inquisitively and he pushed, "I have wings but I don't have any arms."
Frisk blink. "Oh," she said, then smiled. "Okay, good to know." Good thing he had told her before she'd asked to hold his hand, that would have seemed rude for sure, just like when Sans thought she was making a joke about him being a skeleton when she complained about his hand being boney when they first met. The girl turned one way, and then the other before asking, "So, which way?"
Raziel considered their surroundings, then said, "Come on, we'll go this way," and started off. He brought himself up short when he realized she couldn't see the way he pointed with his wing, but she seemed to have no trouble following. Still, the ground was uneven, and he couldn't help but feel concerned. "Do you, uh… do you wanna hold my wing maybe?" He suggested, feeling shy all of a sudden, not wanting to seem like he was babying her, but worried all the same. The angel had a sudden epiphany on how his parents must feel about him, and it granted him a new sympathy for the fine line they had to tread in letting him do things for himself while also keeping him safe. Discomfited, he set aside the thought and pressed on, "It's just that the ground gets pretty squishy and uneven here, so-"
"Okay," Frisk answered abruptly to save the angel from his own awkwardness, a little smile playing across her lips as she extended her hand.
"Okay," he repeated with a sigh of relief before pressing the wrist joint of his wing into her palm, where she gripped it lightly. "Let's go."
The river water was ice cold and soothed the terrible pounding in Sans' head as he splashed it across his face before foregoing the attempt and simply plunging his entire head into the water. Laying on the riverbank among the chest high reeds, Sans held his head below the surface for as long as he could, allowing the dull roar of the currant to drown out the panicked voices in his head screaming at him to keep moving, that now was no time for a break no matter that he had exhausted himself to a trembling wreck since leaving Rivertown hours before.
Eventually, when he could hold his breath no longer, the seraphim surfaced once more, gasping and coughing as water poured from his mouth and eye sockets and soaked the hood of his sweatshirt. His fingers dug into the soft earth below him as he pushed himself up onto his knees, then dropped back to sit in the grass, chest heaving as he sucked in sweet, heady breaths of the humid air.
Sans' head still hurt, but less sharply than before, which was a blessing, even if his left shoulder continued to ache something fierce. Sharp, hot pain lanced all the way down to his fingertips and left his hand with a fine tremor he couldn't seem to be rid of. The serarphim frowned at the offending appendage and gave it a sharp shake, though it did no good, making him huff with annoyance.
He should keep moving the little voice in the back of his head insisted, a raw and anxious presence that would not let Sans relax. The skeleton pushed it aside and forced himself to take a deep breath. He couldn't press on further like this, even he had to have rest, especially if he was going to be any good to Frisk when he found her.
If he found her.
The treacherous thought was shoved down hard. The temptation to do another hard burn was a second presence in his mind that Sans was having even more trouble ignoring than his anxiety. He knew if he started now, though, he'd never stop, and Papyrus would never forgive him.
Wouldn't the end justify the means, though?
More deep breaths followed the first as Sans lay back in the grass and pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets hard enough to make him see stars. He needed to rest, catch his breath. Just for a few minutes. If only the voices in his head would fucking cooperate.
He must have dozed off for a little while as the seraphim jerked back into waking on the tail end of a dream that slipped from memory like so much smoke between his fingers. Sans checked his phone and realized he'd been out for the better part of an hour, and lunged to his feet. The sudden change in orientation made his head swim, but he pushed through it and started walking at a quick pace along the riverbank after resettling his backpack on his right shoulder.
The pain had ebbed a little further, for which he was grateful, and it cleared his mind some for more coherent thoughts of where he should search next.
Papyrus had been keeping him updated with texts on where Undyne was currently searching, which was to the East for now, leaving Sans clear to search the West. The problem was that the river split not just once, but many times just South of Rivertown, and Papyrus had not seen which branch Frisk had gone down. That left a lot of ground to cover, and him unable to fly, but all he could do was pray to the creator he found her before Undyne.
The nasty little voice returned and suggested, not for the first time since the search began, that he should just make a bee-line for the dump. There was no way a ten year old blind human girl had managed to survive the river. He should go there just for closure, get the agony of her loss over as quickly as possible rather than wasting time on foolish hope. It had been several hours since they'd been separated. No doubt her battered, broken little body would have made it to the dump by now, cast into the depths of the Underground like so much other flotsam and jetsam that washed down from the surface.
The mental picture that presented itself to his all too creative imagination drove the wind from Sans and made him shamble to a halt at the crest of a grassy hill overlooking the river delta. Unable to force the dark thoughts down on his strength alone anymore, the seraphim grew desperate for a little mental quiet and focus. Without hesitation, Sans dropped his bag and unveiled his wings, then reached up and grabbed the base of his injured wing with his good hand and gripped it tight.
The pain that burned along his nerves made the seraphim suck in a ragged breath as his vision went white, scattering his dark thoughts like so many leaves on the wind. Trembling at the onslaught, Sans maintained the contact for a count of three before releasing himself, blinking furtively against the spots in his vision. When he could see again, the skeleton veiled his wings and picked up his bag before starting off again. His left arm throbbed in spite of his assaulted limb's absence, and for once Sans used the pain as a motivator rather than a detractor.
'keep walking and keep your mind clear so you don't get hurt again,' he told himself tersely. It worked for awhile, though the voices threatened to return after a time. In response to this lesser bother, he inflicted a lesser pain by digging a fingertip into the freshly formed crack in his brow. It wasn't the healthiest coping tactic (he knew Papyrus would be horrified), but for now it was his best option seeing as his usual involved disappearing into the forest for days on end until he lost track of himself and the general flow of time for a little while.
He couldn't afford that kind of mental breakdown right now, so he made do.