For three days Frisk lived in a daze by the grace of her hosts, sitting blind and dumb as the children and owners of the little orphanage she had appeared at spent their days around her. She spent her time trying to say her own name, reaching into her soul for something, anything! Her first thought was that this was the Demons last 'Hoorah' so to speak. This whole mess with her being a monster and names somehow It's fault. But she couldn't feel any of the slick sickness she felt when approaching the Barrier, or any of the souls the Demon had twisted, in the past. It was like her own name had ceased to exist for her, like the work was there but to even try to attach it to herself was now impossible. Instead her words kept twisting in a way she didn't want, as if trying to say something else, but Frisk was brave enough to admit she was too scared to let them.

It was barely after the start of the third day, after some soft words from Merl as she puttered into the kitchen that she realised she could see pity in his eyes. And Frisk knew that that just wouldn't do. She scowled as the kind man turn his back to her to put away the oatmeal that had been for breakfast, and couldn't believe that she has been wallowing for days over a name (she didn't want to lose her name, it's all she had).

She went back to her borrowed room. (Anamira's, she guiltily thought)

Frisk sat down on the edge of the bed, looked down at her hands, and really thought.

First and foremost, she was definitely in the same place as before her Reset. It was just a matter of when. Was she before, or some bizarre after? Second, she was a monster. That was something she really hadn't been thinking about, the extra arms keep throwing her off, and she can't count how many times she has scared herself with them. Third was the name. She wanted her name back. Frisk grumpily thought that she probably won't get it. The loss of her name felt… void-ish.

After all those things came the lesser, but perhaps a little more pressing matters. Like not being able to understand anyone. And freeloading off of the kind Merl and Anamira when they had so much to worry about already. She couldn't reach the power she had over time anymore, and Frisk wasn't ready to think about what that meant, but… but she had to figure out what she was going to do, she couldn't stay idle. Even before she fell into the world of monsters she had never been able to stay still, always moving forward, that was how she survived.

Heaving a great useless breath Frisk (maybe not Frisk) stood back up and looked down at herself. There were no mirrors in the orphanage, and Frisk was struck with the odd desire to see what face she wore, but put it aside for later. She wore the strange apron like clothes her hosts had given her, one a dusty red and the other a charcoal grey. The fabric was coarse, and she assumed it was hand made, and the red one had a slightly off colour patch near the bottom. When Anamira had offered them to her the first day Frisk had been a little astounded. By Frisks mind they were aprons, with ties at the neck and waist. Anamira had gone through the motions that first day, tying the grey one onto her backwards at her throat and around the bottom of her ribs. The red on went on like a proper apron at her front. All together it made an odd sort of dress. There were no shoes offered, Frisk doubted any would fit her now (she missed her boots).

She was a new Not-Frisk. She had fallen down, and it was time to pick herself up again. Starting with making herself useful.

It hadn't been all that long after she had left the kitchen, and Merl had moved on to sweeping the floor by the time she came back. She watch him for a moment, studying his simple tunic and brown pants. He hummed some nonsense tune as he worked, and Frisk realised that even through her name driven haze she had never seen this man without some sort of smile in his face. It eased her mind to be near someone so content with their life. In a way he reminded her of Papyrus. Quieter and with softer edges but still like the happy skeleton monster.

Enough of being idle, Frisk stepped forward and called out to him. The man blinked up at her and offered a smile.

"Stranger." He said with a few other things. The name they called her by.

She nodded at him and stepped closer still, gaze switching between him and the broom. She motioned to it. "I'd like to help." She said.

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Merl sat at the tiny kitchen table and watched as their guest swept the floor for him. He had been worried when she had disappeared earlier, granted he seemed to always be worried for his enigmatic guest. She didn't speak the Common language, and Merl could only sign 'yes', 'no' and 'thankyou' in Hands, their only shared language. Anamira knew even less.

When they had all sat down that first day and gotten to exchanging names Merl had been hopeful. The skeleton monster had been a little quiet and curious but she had only been courteous to both he and Anamira as well as the children. Then she had tried to say her name.

At least that was what Merl assumed.

When he had heard the sound she made after they had told her their name Merl had thought for a moment that someone had smashed all of his jars and thrown hay all over the house all at once. Anamira had been equally confused, although a little more suspicious than he.

The skeleton had looked just as confused. Then she had tried again. The sound was there still, but seemed further away.

The poor thing though, she just got more and more upset. That was what eased Merl, he realised, that this big monster acted a quarter her size. It also made him wonder what had happened to her. Some sort of magic, Anamira had noted, but not any kind she knew of.

Merl wondered if it was a curse, taking away this monsters name.

So their guest had been named Stranger, for lack of anything better. The only thing to come from it was the Hands, even something so basic helped. She seemed to sign whenever she spoke now, her lower set of hands moving quickly as she spoke, as if she was trying twice as hard to be understood.

And for three days they let her be, warning the children away from her. Anamira had brought up many time taking the other monster to the doctor in town, and leaving her in other hands.

But every time Merl thought that that might be the best option for his guest she would appear again, her strange red eyes looking around in a daze searching for something he couldn't know, and he couldn't help drifting to her side and leading her back to the kitchen. He would sit the great thing down and sacrifice a bit of the milk their neighbour gave them to her, as if she was one of the orphanages children who had just awoken from a nightmare.

It may also have been that he was a little bit selfish, and wanted to learn about the Stranger himself, and not hear it from the town gossip. But that was his secret.

He chuckled to himself that that last thought, drawing the attention of Stranger, but he waved her off and she returned to finishing her task. After a moment more of watching he spoke up.

"Broom." He said simply.

Stranger looked over at him again. She frowned a little.

He pointed at the broom she held and said again, "broom."

Red eyes looked down at her hands then back up. He could see the hesitant understanding on her face. "…Broom?" she shook said broom slightly.

"Broom." He confirmed and signed a 'yes' in hands to help her.

He watched her eyes light up, mutter the word again, then continue sweeping with a little more vigour. Her eyes darted as she moved across the room before she stopped again, and looked at him, pointing to the hearth and the fire that danced inside.

Merl grinned proudly at Stranger, glad to watch her pull herself out of her depression, and said:

"Fire."