It was surprising in some respects, that Chara had found the story to be as relaxing as she had. At least within the mind of Toriel. Her attitude towards some of the more dangerous moments seeming to waver between two states.

Either being unnerved or upset, or quiet and hostile. Usually depending on which of the characters were at risk. The girl entranced with the quirky adventure. Oddly, she didn't enjoy the doctor character that showed up around the end of the first third of the story. Requesting numerous times for the dialogue to be said quicker or skipped.

Ultimately the end result was the sleeping child more or less sprawled out across her lap. It was in such a fashion that it was a bit uncomfortable, without being overtly oppressive for Toriel. The monster had to admit, in some fashion, Chara was a bit too old for these childish things, and that she aught to try and break these habits.

At least...whe would have been. Toriels mind briefly contemplating how old she would be at this point. Asking herself how long it had even been. Long enough that she couldn't quite recall, the guilt of forgetting that was like a dull stabbing pain.

"Chara?" The woman asked quietly, nudging her.

When she received no answer, she took the dark tome, and placed it on a spot above her fireplace. It was very rare that dreams found their way to her person. But this was usually how they ended, these murderous little puddles of something more positive.

The odd glimpses of light against her otherwise perpetual nightmares. Thinking over it, she was glad it had lasted so long, that she could indulge for a moment into a kind delusion. The woman hoped she could remember it, that she wouldn't forgot as soon as she awoke.

Taking a look to the table, she found that the flower had also found his way to sleep. A brief thought managed into her mind, conceiving the possibility of destroying the obnoxious, perpetual pest. It always followed her, trying to get in her way of 'resolving' some situations.

She hadn't forgotten that face it made, just to taunt her. But...it didn't really matter here. This version, at least, seemed to have learned a lesson the real one ought to as well.

Letting out a long sigh, she let down her guard, and simply let herself enjoy this little serenity. Carefully raising Chara in her arms, the chair creaking some as she rose. Cradling the girl, who hugged her as she slept.

"Silly child, you always fell asleep before the best part." She said sadly, carrying her to her room.

Venturing towards it, she used her foot to push the door open, from its slightly ajar state. Once it did, she stepped into the quiet place, wondering as she looked around, if it was time to let go of it? Perhaps it was the only determined action she could take.

Her eyes glancing over the various objects, and trinkets she'd kept there. For dozens, no, hundreds of years perhaps? She couldn't tell. Everyday just blended together anyways.

Stepping to the bed, she placed Chara upon it, and quietly tucked her in. She had kept the room as close to how she remembered it being as possible. But even those old memories were starting to get fuzzy now.

Toriel almost bumping into a bottle or two she'd failed to clean up, on one of the harder days. She recalled that she still had the oven going. Perhaps that was how this dream was meant to end, in flames?

Looking over her daughters sleeping self, she wagered it would be better to avoid such an outcome. Reminding herself to go and turn it off. So she could avoid this little oasis turning into some familiar horror. Toriel decided to go and resolve that, taking a moment to kiss her wards forehead.

"Goodnight Chara," Her eyes darkening, as she proceeded from the room. "I...love you."

She teared up, as she went, picking up the containers as she ventured from this place. Bottling up the sensation building in the back of her throat. That aching in her chest, the burning in her eyes.

Heading back down the hall, and into the living room, where the fire had begun to die down. A quick step into the kitchen, to turn off the oven, before heading back to the chair. Each moment blurring by, her thoughts far too occupied on other things.

Sitting back down, she leaned into it heavily, and felt exhausted in a unique way. This wasn't the first time she'd had a dream like this, though it was perhaps the most vivid in her memory. She let out a little breath and swallowed hard. Drowning the sensation as much as she could.

After a moment's thought, she took the Underfell book, and placed it on her lap. Folding her hands over it. There was a comfort in the feeling of old books. A small smile on her face, as she hoped that she wouldn't wake up this time. That she wouldn't spend another day in this place, alone.

She thought on the buttercups. The things that started...all of this. Wondering, as she sometimes did, what it felt like?

Her tears slipped absently, the thought and possibilities roaming about her mind. Chest rising, falling, slower and slower as time ticked. After a time, her mind began to clear.

The memories of the past burning away with one final thought. The replaying regrets. She wondered what would have happened...if she had been better than she was. If she had gotten there sooner.

With that, she fell into a deep sleep of her own.


When Toriel awoke, she found her eyes opening to the familiar feeling of tiredness and mental exhaustion. Groaning to herself as she rubbed the cold from them, briefly noting she'd avoided falling asleep in the robes this time. Not that casual clothes were much of an improvement, but it was something.

She rubbed her blind eye for a moment longer, before stopping. It sometimes took a moment to recall that it didn't function anymore. Scanning her surrounding she reminded herself where she was, letting out a deep sigh in the process.

"A stunning new development...everyone please remain seated." She said very unenthusiastically to herself, before noticing the book in her lap.

Seeing the tome there wasn't entirely surprising. She often fell asleep reading. What was, though...was the name of the book. Underfell. She'd not read that in, well, it'd been at least 6 years since she last touched it. And yet...there it was...

The 'dream' from before played in her mind, as she stirred faster. "Wait..." She turned to the table, and felt the hope fade. "I...don't know what I was expecting."

The table was absent of the Flower, she had recalled being there. Not that it could have been. The idea of it all, was so outlandish, fantastical. Any critical analysis would reveal it to be precisely that.

rising from the seat, she held the book in one of her hands. The memory was wound around her present thoughts. On one hand, it was a welcome illusion, on the other it was too potent to be entirely welcome.

She had never gotten to read this book to Chara, that was something she reminded herself of. The thought coming, as she brushed her fingers across the tome, reminding herself it was just a dream. No matter how she longed for it, it would never be her reality. No matter the deals she struck, it would remain out of reach.

The woman hugged the book, feeling like she was about to breakdown before finally letting go. A distinct lack of enthusiasm carrying her to her next actions. Wandering over to the bookshelf, she placed it back where it belonged.

Leaning against it, she dug out and checked her phone for new calls. It appeared she only had one, but it was from an unknown number. Thus, she elected to ignore it.

Heading into the kitchen, she was greeted with something she only barely recalled, that being the pie on the counter. It seemed to have a couple pieces taken out of it. The scent of cinnamon drew her focus, the woman yawning fiercely. She reached over to grab a knife, only to fumble with it, the blade rocking, slipping, and slicing at her.

"Ow-damnit." She exclaimed in surprise, managing to cut her finger on the edge.

Looking over the cut, mana drew from the wound, staining her finger. It was a crimson substance, not entirely unlike a humans blood. Though, it became dust quickly enough, though she was annoyed to see it bleeding. The blade had fallen to the counter.

"Good going Toriel." She complained, healing her wound before grabbing the knife with increased caution. "Why was it even-" She sighed placing it back where it belonged. "that's what happens when we just leave things around."

Muttering to herself, she understood inherently that the drunk rendition of her-own-self wasn't going to recall any instructions to be more cautious. Mending her cut, she briefly ran her hand and knife beneath water. Before finally, cutting a piece of pie for herself.

It was about this point she pondered the origins of this pie. The missing pieces from it. She had made things while sleepwalking in the past, but rarely were they elaborate. Moreover, the one attempt she recalled had been very, very far from edible. Looking at the pie, she dreaded the thought of how much she might have wasted trying to get it right, in such a stupor.

Placing it on a plate she was certain was mostly clean, she glanced at the dishes in the sink. Tossing the knife in, figuratively, she pulled out a dirty fork. Fire flowing from her hand, consuming it.

With any debris singed off, she just ran water over it briefly, removing the grime. Wondering if she should actually do the dishes today. Sighing, concluding that she'd handle them...eventually. It sounded like far too much effort right now.

Before leaving the kitchen, she opened the cupboard. Grabbing a smaller wine glass. There were only a few remaining, which was an unpleasant revelation. Her eyes briefly noting a note that had been placed there.

It was jotted in a goofy font, lacking capitalization. Curious she examined it closer. Then, she read it aloud.

"what do you call a bear who quits drinking...so-bear." She snickered some and rolled her eyes. "Funny bones."

At least, given everything else, there was that to look forward to, for however long it might last. Sometimes she liked to imagine that her life might alter course somehow. Yet, the ever-present thought that she'd exist in the ruins until she either 'fell-down' or was killed, suggested otherwise.

Even with her more recent addition of company, it was just a fleeting collection of moments against the normal backdrop. A visit here and there, a talk once and awhile. And on the rare occasion, a little trip venturing out into the few nice places, in the underground. Sometimes she wished she could convince herself to just say no, as those little moments just made the rest worst.

Afterall, no matter how they all went, she woke up alone. She would end up in her home, alone. She'd venture through the city alone, only really interacting with people as miserable as herself. But even the little bits of nicer conversation ended, and then...she was right back here...alone again.

Toriel tried to shake this mindset. Realizing she had been letting herself spiral again. Groaning at her own self-pity.

"Perhaps he's right...maybe I should consider television shows?" She half-asked herself.

Setting her slice of pie by the chair, she set the glass alongside it. Noticing that her bottle of wine was no longer beside her usual seating. Thinking back, she concluded it was likely in her room, and began heading that way.

Passing the staircase, she reached the door to the other room. To the guest room. Her body lurching to a halt, at it. A desire building not to indulge the thought, the curiosity. To let it go and move on. Her body ached to proceed, yet her mind wouldn't allow it.

"There's nobody there." She told herself, reaching for the handle. "There's nobody...nobody..." She felt a faint hope, turning the handle to look inside. "There?"

Gazing in, the room was dark and empty. Bearing the familiar scents of old colored pencils and paint. Looking to the bed, she half expected to see one of her children at rest. The room was...as close to the same as she could get it after all.

Her hands folded together, the delusional aspect of her mind, that dreaming madness wondering if perhaps they were just hard to see?

Her trembling hand turned on the light. Illuminating her, as to the situation. The nearly made beds, unmistakably empty. A familiar frown breaking across her face. Her attention turning to the painted images across the bedroom wall. The hand outlines, and little drawings left by those who came before.

Sometimes she wondered if they might ever return. If one of them was out there somewhere, considering returning to the Ruins. However, she had to remind herself, they'd probably forgotten about her, and that was assuming they survived...

Toriel let out a defeated sigh. "Perhaps, I'm going mad?"

Leaving the room, she attempted to close the door. The force used however, resulted in it slamming, though that was unintentional. Her posture was more composed than before, but her movements were quicker, her breathing less stable.

Entering into her room, she pushed some of the debris away from the entrance. Crumbled pieces of paper, random clothing strewn about, empty bottles she had been meaning to clean up. It was in a poor state, and inspired some frustrations to rise in her chest. Everything was beginning to feel overwhelming again.

Flame flickered in her palm, light reflecting off a few glass bottles in the room. Her breathing steadying, her eyes noting one bottle laying atop her dresser. Snatching it off, with a rather deft movement, she reminded herself that this bitter sensation was temporary. She just needed to drink until it stopped. It was rather simple, all things considered.

And thus, back to the living room, she went. Setting down the bottle with a bit of a thud. Set on the table, next to the other things she'd gathered to start her morning. She shuddered some, and shook herself. Letting out a breath or relief.

She poured some of the wine into the glass, the scent filling the air. It wasn't altogether pleasant, given it was remarkably cheap smelling. Regardless, she drew it up to her lips, and took a long drink. Indulging in the unpleasant flavor, before hearing a sound not unlike laughing.

Curiously she looked around, tracing the sound to her garden, beyond her front door. She knew that laugh. Toriels eye twitched.

"I'm...I'm awake...aren't I?" She asked herself.

She had to be, in her own estimation. Afterall, she'd cut herself, and that certainly hurt. Was it more unwanted guests? Then again, as she contemplated it, her 'dreams' became...vivid. No, that wasn't it. They were too vivid. Too...real.

"No..." She glanced at her palm, briefly manifesting a small flame in the other. "I'm..." She ran the flame across her palm, wincing before snuffing it out. "awake...probably...someone."

Compelled to investigate. Compelled to finally quash this infernal sense of things. To stop this feeling that she was going insane, she headed to her front door. She could hear talking, outside. Two people, muffled, but semi-audible. Her hand trembled.

Willing herself to |ACT|

Toriel opened the door.

"But that's what I'm saying!" A familiar voice said, the woman opening it enough to look out. "I mean, do you even know how to bake?"

"Nope, but that's alright. You've just got to persevere and figure it out." The child said, before noticing her. "Hi mom!" She gave a slight wave. "You're up."

"Chara?" Toriel half asked, feeling like her senses were screaming. "And...Flowey."

The girl was sitting beside the flower, in the garden area, around the tree, as withered as that was. There was a plate between the two, that contained a piece of pie. Toriel briefly recalling the missing pieces of pie.

The woman took the moment to move her hands behind her back, and compose herself. Thinking over the injuries she'd...contributed to. Over how she'd handled everything. Over the 'idea' that this wasn't some strange dream.

She dug her finger into her hand, hard enough to puncture the skin. To pierce in, and draw mana from the wound. The pain flowing through her, confirming that she was...in fact...awake.