Snowdin - Part 3
The snow fell lightly on the soil and dirt, flowing out from the wind and cavern sky like ashes of a great pyre. The fog came next, subtle and light, and it slid down the hill before passing over the small lake, giving it the false impression of a warm hot-spring.
On the field the lake ran through, there was a tree. A single, large and ancient tree of pine, rotting and without leaves, kneeling in a formation resembling a half-closed fist of a monstrous skeleton. Beside that tree, there was a small house or cottage. It was barely half the size of the tree and appeared hastily put together with loose planks and bricks, resembling a cheap, self-made shack rather than a proper home.
Standing right outside of it, on the plain, snow-covered field, there was a plain, polished oak table. Several items were scattered on it. They were a dirty bowl, a striped blue and yellow t-shirt, and a wooden toy car. Then there was a fourth item, one clearly too big for the table. It seemed to resemble a large plushy, one that almost resembled a large, living rabbit.
Lastly, besides that strange assortment of objects, there stood a singular painting on an easel. A simple but clear painting of a young monster boy resembling a white rabbit. He smiled, playfully, like he was happy and at peace. No more hunger, no more sickness and no more pain. A comforting thought, it seemed was the painter's intention.
There was writing at the bottom of the painting. Written in cursive monster-speak, it simply wrote: Ivan, may he find peace.
Practically half of Snowdin had gathered there in that field just south of town. The half that could arrive, that is. Of course, there were a few outsiders as well. Some distant relatives from distant towns or regions. Some cousins or old friends. There were even some strangers or even passerby who didn't know young Ivan very well but arrived the same to give their respect.
All of them, family and friends, strangers and acquaintances, old, young and adult, young, old and ancient, bipedal, quadruped and legless, all dressed mostly in either black, grey or white, stood together in a half-circle right outside the cottage by the old tree.
While there were the occasional soft mutters and whispers here and there, there was still a certain shared quietness between all of them. A quietness noise of respect, of understanding, one where each monster had a moment to reflect, in order to remember their own, fragile yet often forgotten mortality. To remember, that despite being able to live perhaps hundreds, if not thousands of lifetimes, throughout how many centuries or millennia, each of their lives could still be taken at a moments notice.
A priestly figure stood in front of them, dressed in dark-grey robes, ones so unkempt and dirty they were more closely similar to the rags of a hermit. The hood was also very large and covered their entire face, snout and whatever lay there hidden in shadows. It also walked with a crooked back, and in one of its two hands, it seemed to hold a wooden staff of sorts.
Then, he, she or it drew a small copper bell from under its robe and rang it, and all the other monsters around stopped whatever mutters, whispers they were at in an instant and simply watched in unison like time itself had frozen. But there was no spell at play here, no hypnosis, simply an understanding between them all of what it meant.
It was time for the funeral ritual to begin.
Frisk stood just outside of town, at the top of a hill, watching the event from a distance. If she didn't know any better, she would've assumed this was the start of some strange cult meeting or ritual. But with all the context in place, the painting, the objects and the word of the rabbit from the library earlier, it was hard to deny what this was about.
Frisk simply followed the group of monsters who had gathered together in a walk to someplace just outside of town. She understood the somberness of it and what it was about and wanted to know more while, but not enough to join the moving group, either in a sense of respect or fear, including a fear that she would be discovered amongst such a large group of strange and unreal creatures. Perhaps it was due to both of these reasons, Frisk figured. It was only once they arrived at the place that the somberness of the situation hit her.
"What's with the stuff on the table?" she curiously asked Flowey, whispering as if the monsters in the distant gathering could hear her.
"These are… the kid's favourite items in life," Flowey answered, with somberness he was clearly trying to hide. "Supposedly that is."
"Hmm," Frisk said, feeling her throat tighten. "Guess only he would've known for sure."
"True," Flowey said. "You'll see what they're for. Soon enough."
As the silent mourning continued, Frisk tried to find the large, white rabbit Reggie, or RG 01 as Flowey called him, in the group, which proved harder than she expected. Even with so many strange and different looking creatures, there was a strange abundance of white or whiteish rabbit monsters, and while most of them were fairly thin and small in comparison, finding the large one, even from this distance was hard. It was almost as if he wasn't in the group at all, which Frisk found plausible but strange. Did he have to suddenly do something more important, Frisk wondered. What could be more important currently than attending the funeral of his own cousin?
Just as she was pondering this, the hooded figure rung the bell again. Frisk still found hard to figure out what they were, as from her distance it was hard to make out any detail under the hood. Maybe there was nothing under there? Maybe there was just shadow or perhaps even not that? Just nothing. Frisk didn't know what to think. She didn't know what to think anymore.
Then finally, they began to speak. Frisk expect that she would glimpse something from this creature from their words, be it gender or age, but as strange as it was, they're voice managed to hint at almost nothing in fact. They spoke in a strange, aged but genderless voice, making Frisk start to wonder the possibility if they even had a gender. Or at least the same human concept of gender.
"We are gathered here today," the hooded figure began. "To bid our farewells. To say our last goodbyes… to young Ivan."
There came a few but quick sad murmurs from the crowd.
"I didn't know him much in life," the hooded figure continued, once all had silenced. "Nor do I pretend to. But many of you did. And even those of you who didn't, you still chose to arrive here nonetheless. Some who were invited have not come here, so I'm told, possibly due to events out of their full control. But I also don't hold ill will to some of those that could make it but chose not to, and I don't think you should either. Not completely at least, for I understand that this is a loss beyond the scale of normal grief."
They gave a small pause as if waiting for someone else to speak.
"Ivan Haren," they continued after a while. "I am told, was tragically young. Only ten years of age, he was taken too soon from this world. From this life he had, and from the ones he could've had. But sickness came upon him, and several days later, that sickness took him in his bed, while he slept peacefully and unaware."
They took another pause. The only thing that could be heard for a few seconds was the soft wind breezing by.
"He had few friends, I am told," they continued. "A mother of course. An aunt and many cousins, some close, other distant. His father, Valdi Haren, Ivan could never meet in life, for he had perished from a sudden sickness in the heart when Ivan was but a few months old. I was gathered then, ten years ago, in this very place, with many of you as well. It was the only time I met Ivan as well. He seemed so… small then. A young monster with full of hope and dreams."
They took another moment of silence. This time though, it was seemingly for themselves, judging from how he stared at the ground as if stricken by a sudden sadness.
During this new moment of silence, Frisk took a quick look at her flowery companion, who had extended his vines so he could take a closer look. She found it mildly surprising that he seemed to be just as invested in this as her, but only mildly, as Frisk began to feel him be a constant surprise for her.
Finally, the hooded figure looked back up and spoke again.
"Now though," they said. "It is time to say the final goodbyes to him. Our last farewells… to young Ivan."
They then turned to the centre of the crowd.
"Isabell Haren," they called into it. "You may come now. When you're ready."
The crowd, slowly and carefully, parted until a lone rabbit lady stood alone. She looked incredibly frail, almost bony, and wore a dirty and torn orange woollen sweater and a matching skirt, clearly not able to afford fancier clothes for this funeral. Her fur was white with a pinkish hue, and in her uncanny human-like palms, she held a small, full blue pouch. She stared down at the snow-covered ground as if to hide her face from the others.
"Oh my gods," Flowey suddenly muttered, seemingly in shock. "That's… that's the old Snowdin innkeeper."
After an uncomfortably long pause, the rabbit lady began to walk towards the table with objects. The way she walked was incredibly slow, pausing momentarily with every step like she was walking on needles. Even from a distance, Frisk could see her expression was wracked with pain.
When she was finally in front of the table of items, she stopped. Then stared at it for a while like she didn't know what to do next. Then, as slow and shaken as her walk, her palm reached into the small bag she held. Frisk could see a few tears form on her eyes now, and run down her cheek slowly. It was hard to miss in fact. This was, perhaps, the clearest and most glimmering tears she had ever seen, much more than from any human. The tears went past her cheek, past her torn sweater and fell down on the snow, instantly vaporizing into several dust particles that became unrecognizable from the snow.
Finally, the rabbit pulled her hand out again. Her palm was filled with what resembled a greyish pile of snow. But Frisk was certain this was not any snow. She had seen this essence before. From the old creature in the ruins. Her suspicions were only strengthened as the rabbit lady looked down at the dust in her palm, and began to sob. Her tears became thicker and faster.
From the crowd, another rabbit stepped forward, this one also female, but her fur was darker and purplish. This one wore a dirty white wool dress and had a straw hat with two holes for her years. This purplish rabbit hat placed one of her palms on the weeping rabbit's shoulder. The white rabbit looked back at her for a moment and then nodded.
"Do you know who that is?" Frisk asked, whispering again.
"That's her older sister, Clare," Flowey answered. "She used to own the general store in Snowdin. When it still existed that is."
Then once the purplish rabbit with the straw hat, Clare, let go and backed back into the crowd, the white one, Isabell, took another step. She then placed her dust-filled hand over the small toy car, and opened her palm, letting the dust slowly fall all over it.
"What is she doing?" Frisk whispered to Flowey, watching her action with confusion.
"Spreading his dust," Flowey answered. "Whenever a monster dies, their dust is spread over their favourite objects in life. It is believed that their… essence will then… live on, forever, in those objects."
Frisk kept watching as the frail rabbit lady picked up more dust and poured that as well over the toy, and then stopped once her palm was empty, her face grimacing as if holding another weep. Frisk found it a bit hard to watch but simultaneously couldn't move her eyes away. There was a certain, tranquillity to this ritual, Frisk felt. A sad but clear mood in it that spoke more than any words of grief could.
"Is that true?" Frisk asked Flowey. "Does their essence really live on in the items?"
Flowey said nothing. Kept watching on, like he either didn't hear her or simply decided not to answer. Frisk noted a strange discomfort in his last answer, so she decided not to pry, and just kept silent as well.
The white rabbit lady then turned her eyes on another object, this time, the striped t-shirt. It was at that moment Frisk noticed that several other monsters in the group were now tearing up as well, and just like the rabbit, their tears were just as clear and glimmering as well.
Once Isabell was done pouring over the shirt, she proceeded to the next one, the wooden bowl. It advanced like the last two, with her pouring two palms of dust over it.
Then she proceeded to the last item, the large, lifelike plushy besides the table, but stopped it as if something suddenly snapped within her. She stared at it, like a weak prey awaiting death from a predator, with one hand holding a nearly empty bag of dust. Then she broke. She fell down on her knees like her bones suddenly snapped like twigs, and cried. Her bag fell off her hands and onto the thin snow, and several particles of dust fell out, blending with the white ground. Isabell didn't care about that anymore, simply placed both her palms on her teary face as if to hide her cries. The other monsters, even the strange hooded figure it seemed, looked at her with clear sympathy. Some even began to cry as well. Before Frisk realized it, she felt a single tear was running down her light brown cheek as well.
"Wow," she muttered as she wiped it away with her hand. "That's… Jesus."
The purplish rabbit lady with the pink hat, Clare, her eyes full of tears as well, then came back from the crowd, knelt down besides Isabell, and embraced her softly. After a moment, her sobs lessened and she breathed heavily. The hooded figure came forwards as well and whispered something into one of Isabell's rabbit ears. Whatever it was, it seemed to be enough to calm her down. She then finally moved her palms from her eyes, that were now red from tears, grabbed the bag, and slowly stood back up, Clare helping her onto her bare rabbit feet. There were still visible tears running down her cheeks and she still shook wildly, but a mild sense of strength seemed to push her a bit forward. It was not complete enough, so Clare then held her shoulders and led her the few steps to the plush like she was teaching her sister to walk again. Once they were close enough, they both simultaneously reached into the blue bag and poured the last of the dust all over the plush. Then, it was done.
Isabell took one deep breath as she faced the dust-covered plush. Then as if by magic, the dust seemed to fade into the items, almost growing stuck to them. Isabell lowered her head as if she didn't want to witness this, and allowed Clare to lead her back into the crowd, still shaking and softly sobbing the way.
Once that was done, the hooded figure stood back to face their crowd, rung their bell once more and spoke.
"It's easy to blame others for this," they said to the crowd. "To blame your gods or spirits or the angel, or whatever power you believe. Whatever the case, the sad truth is, this is a chaotic, harsh world, and I agree that in a better one, things like this wouldn't have happened, or at least not so frequent. But it is up to us to make that world. Not later, not even tomorrow. Today. We may grieve, we may anger or cry, but we mustn't let ourselves fall into pure despair during times like this, even if the unknown abyss seems tempting and the world of the living hopeless."
They took another pause as if to make sure the others absorbed what they spoke. Even from her distance, the hooded figure spoke so clearly that Frisk could hear the speech in full and in its whole eloquence. Just from their tone and words, Frisk felt a sense of grief rise in her, a sense of loss, despite the fact she never met this young Ivan. It was almost like their voice was magic in a sense, hypnotic even.
It was around this moment that she finally spotted the large rabbit, Reggie, in her sights. As she was no longer even thinking of him, she managed to glance at him in the distance by pure chance. But he was not in the crowd as it turned out. Like her, he stood watching from a distance, on a different hill opposite the house from Frisk's perspective. Under a small pine tree, he simply watched the funeral from above, smoking what looked like a small cigar with green smoke.
Why isn't he with the group? Frisk thought.
"Did something happen with Reggie?" she asked Flowey. "Related to Ivan?"
"Why you ask?" Flowey replied.
"He's… distant for some reason," Frisk answered. "He's just under the tree at the hill over there. Not even in the crowd."
"Hmm, that's weird," Flowey said. "No idea why that is. But… whatever. I just… I don't care anymore."
"Ok, I'll shut up then," Frisk said.
"You don't… you don't really have to," Flowey said, now sounding like he had a lump in his throat.
Shortly as he finished saying that, Frisk saw Reggie throw his cigar on the ground and bury it in some snow with his feet. Then he turned around and walked into the woods, his large sword and scabbard visible on his back from her view.
About a few minutes passed before the crowd of monsters finally separated. Some headed deeper into the woods, others, including the hooded figure, went by of to a beaten path leading north, while the rest headed up the hill towards Snowdin. Among them was Clare, the frail purplish rabbit, who Frisk saw heading towards the shelter. Isabell meanwhile, simply entered the ruined cottage by the tree alone, not even bothering to close it behind her. Before they separated, there was a moment where Clare and Isabell spoke about something inaudible. Whatever it was, Frisk figured it wasn't something nice.
Frisk watched it all from beginning to end, not moving her eyes away by much. It was hard for her to do, either from a deep-seated sense of respect or from some type of morbid curiosity she had. Either way, she had a feeling that Flowey felt just as bad if not worse than she currently did.
"So what now?" she asked him, watching the monsters move past her.
"I… I don't know," Flowey simply said, clearly in a bad mood. "I don't… I don't think we should've come here. To the funeral I mean."
"Yeah, sorry…" Frisk said. "I just… I was curious."
"It's alright," Flowey answered. "Now you at least know how funerals down here work. You got a live demonstration, you could say. Could've been in better circumstances but… it's what it is."
"Uh-huh," Frisk simply replied.
"So… is it anything like this on the surface or…?" Flowey asked with curiosity.
"Well, where I'm from, not really," Frisk answered. "But… maybe this is how it works in some foreign cultures I don't know of. In my country though, hell even in both my parent's countries, we usually just dig a hole and bury them in a box. Ok, to be fair, there's actually a bit more to it than that."
"Uh-huh," Flowey replied simply, not looking at her.
"Of course, there's cremation," Frisk said. "Which… is kinda similar to this, actually, now that I think about it. Burn the body to ash and spread it. Mostly over special places though rather than over any particular object, but it's a similar mindset I guess."
"I see," Flowey said.
"Still, I'm sorry I put you through this," Frisk said apologetically.
"Got your apologies the first time," Flowey replied. "No need to say it twice."
"Right, I… right…" Frisk said.
She kept watching down the hill, down at the house even though the crowd was still gone. The painting still stood there, while the items had been moved inside the house a while ago. She tried to imagine this boy in life, this rabbit monster Ivan. What was he like, having lived his whole life down here never even getting a chance to see the sun and star? That was hard for her to imagine. It made her also reflect how she took things like that for granted and reminded her how things that seemed normal down here felt so abnormal. Like her own normal, this human normal, like the star and sun, wasn't the truth but a privilege she took for granted.
Frisk then took a look at her flowery friend. She wondered then why he was so hesitant to show his emotions. She found it obvious how he actually felt, that he had empathy. Why was he so strange about it, she wondered. Was it cultural? Does she herself have something do to about it? Or is there something about him he doesn't want her to know? In fact, how much did she know about him? This strange creature that's not monster nor animal? How much did she know about this world even? Once again, she had so many questions and few answers, yet at the moment had no energy or will to ask any of it.
What is the point? Frisk simply thought.
It was then that she looked back to look at the town, and with a quick spook, she saw a familiar standing near her and Flowey. A familiar bulging skeleton with a large, seemingly permanent grin on his face that made her feel uneasy just looking at.
"Sup kiddos," Sans said to them.
"Jesus," Frisk said, mildly startled. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Looking for us or something?" Flowey pried.
The skeleton exhaled audibly through his grin and shook his head.
"Had to get out of the house for a moment," he said. "Me and my brother we… well, we got into a bit of a fight. I caught him sneaking in some of… his stuff. Something he had promised to quit after I took some of it away but… turns out he just snuck some behind me."
"What is this "stuff" you keep mentioning?" Flowey asked.
Sans stood still and looked at them momentarily as if he was thinking of something else.
"Eh, sorry but that's kinda personal territory," he finally answered after a moment. "Let's just say it's something… addicting."
"Hmm," Frisk simply replied.
"It's nothing related to me, is it?" Flowey suddenly asked.
"Erm, no," Sans said. "He's never mentioned you even. Not in relation to this, that is. Now that I think about it, I don't think he has mentioned you for several years now."
"Oh," Flowey said, sounding like he didn't know how to react. "That's… ok…"
There came a short moment of pause as if all three of them were waiting for someone else to speak first. Frisk simply didn't have much to say now. Or rather, not much energy to control the conversation. She just stood, listening to the blows of the soft wind blowing by her clothes.
"Never been fond of funerals," Sans said after a moment, breaking the silence.
"I doubt most people are," Flowey replied.
"You wouldn't think that," Sans added. "Y'know Considering I'm a skeleton after all but… whatever. I'm not really in much of a joking mood now, if you couldn't tell."
"Neither am I," Flowey replied.
"But why are you here though?" Frisk asked him directly.
The fat skeleton shrugged.
"No idea," he admitted. "No reason I guess? I was just walking around town, saw you nearby and wanted to say hi."
"Huh, ok," Frisk replied.
"Since when do you take walks?" Flowey asked.
"I walk… sometimes," Sans said. "Not much but… ok, not much. It's rare actually. You caught me."
"Well, at least it's nice to know someone cares about us two though," Flowey said. "Someone who's not… you know who I mean Frisk. Right?"
"I think so," she replied, thinking back to the creature in the ruins.
"Even if the care comes from this smiley trashbag," Flowey added with more bitterness.
"Is that your only insult towards me?" Sans asked. "I mean… it's not like it's wrong per se. I do smile a lot, and I am a bag of trash, admittedly."
Flowey gave out a small pout.
"Whatever," he said and looked away. "Not in the mood for this now."
"I can see that," the skeleton said. "So anyway, did the shelter take you in kiddos? Sure hope so. For your sake that is, 'cause then I won't have to share with you my hilarious jokes all night. I already have my bro Papyrus to suffer through them."
"Not really," Frisk answered. "The shelter was full. In a literal sense, apparently."
"Still feel like there was room there," Flowey muttered.
"Hmm, shame," Sans said, still grinning. "Well, my offer still stands you know? Unless you wanna crash at some other monster's hole."
"I… think we've decided to take your offer," Frisk answered, trying to hide her slight discomfort at the thought.
She hoped the skeleton didn't notice her unease. From his still expression, Frisk found it hard to say whether he did.
"Yeah, we are… doing that," Flowey confirmed, clearly not hiding his tone of disappointment.
The flower then gave out a small sigh of defeat.
"Oh cool," Sans casually said through his still uncomfortably wide grin. "Good to hear. But eh. Let's not go to my place just yet. Not when my bro is currently having one of his cranky moments."
"Got it," Frisk said. "I know how that feels. I have a… family member who sometimes has outburst so… yeah."
"Mhmm," Sans simply replied.
"So what should we do until then?" Flowey asked. "Just stand around in this growing cold?"
"Eh, I was thinking of going to Grillby's," Sans answered. "Have you two ever been there kiddos?"
"You mean that big building with the large, broken sign?" Frisk asked. "The one that seems the most stable?"
"The one and the same," Sans answered. "I always go there when I… well I never have a good excuse to, honestly. I just go there a lot. They sell the best burgers with the best ketchup in town. Also the only burgers and ketchup in town."
"Mhmm," Frisk answered simply.
"That could explain your "big bones" syndrome," Flowey muttered under his breath.
"Anyways," Sans continued. "I was wondering if you could… maybe be… interested in having a bit of lunch with me there?"
"Look, if this is your way of asking me out-" Frisk began.
"Oh, no, no, no," Sans said reassuringly. "While I'm honestly kinda flattered you thought I was going there, I wasn't. I was more thinking of dining together as… newly met acquaintances. Or as companions. Just a nice gesture for you and your pothead friend there."
"Ugh, told you I'm really not in the mood for this now," Flowey muttered with annoyance.
"I don't really do romance if you wanna know," Sans added. "Never been my thing."
"So you´re like asexual?" Frisk asked curiously. "I mean I'm not judging."
"Nah, don't think so," Sans said. "More like aromantic, I'd say. Not sure if by choice or if it's just how I'm wired. I just know that currently, I feel like relationships are far too much work for me."
Frisk smiled a bit.
"I can understand that," she replied.
"So you wanna come or…?" Sans asked.
Frisk shrugged.
"Yeah, I'm game," she answered and turned to her companion. "What about you Flowey? You in or…?"
"Whatever," her companion answered, sounding drained. "I just… yeah, let's go."
"I mean," Sans began. "He doesn't have to come with. I can just drop him at my place and-"
"I said I'll go," Flowey blurted out, sounding irritated. "Sorry. I… well, I'm not sorry actually. I'm never sorry to you that is."
"Alright kiddo," Sans said. "Just don't come complaining to me if you change your mind in there. Anyway, follow me, kiddo. I happen to know a shortcut."
With that, the duo, or Frisk rathered, followed behind the bulging skeleton.
The bar slash restaurant was slightly better than what Frisk had come to expect from the town. It was dirty and smelled foul, of course, but mixed with the grease and heat from the kitchen, the stench was unforgettable in the worst way. But the wooden floor was at least stable enough, so was the roof and walls, despite the occasional tear in the wallpaper. It even had electricity, but seemingly only a little, for there was just a single ceiling light turned on. Despite those setbacks, Frisk perfectly understood why this place was considered the most stable one in town. But compared to most bars on the surface though, the place was pretty much unrecognizable from a run-down motel bar you could find in a poor city neighbourhood.
Still, it proved nice enough for the town, and as Frisk saw it was filled with so many strange monsters and creatures. The place seemed almost as busy as the shelter from before. Some of the monsters she recognized from the funeral, probably here to distract themselves from the memory of it, she assumed. But there were also dozens of other monsters and monster types she had never seen before. Not all of them were even humanoid, including what resembled a large plant monster sitting in the corner of the bar, and it reminded Frisk of a piranha plant creature from old an antique musical she couldn't remember the name of.
"Hey, is that one of your kind?" Frisk asked Flowey when she saw it first. "I mean a living… plant or whatever?"
"Nah, that guy's a pure plant monster," Flowey confirmed.
"How can you tell?" Frisk asked.
"Eh," Flowey said and shrugged. "Ever seen a plant like that in nature?"
"Hmm, I think I see," Frisk said.
Of other lovely strange denizens of the bar, there was a group of three seemingly elderly monsters all playing poker by a large round table. Frisk guessed they were old judging by their crooked posture, greyness on their fur or feathers, or by what appeared to be wrinkles on some places. Or maybe they weren't even old, Frisk then considered, and maybe she was just assuming they were, based on her biased human perception of old.
The monster that caught her attention the most though was the that stood behind the bar counter. Unlike all the other monsters she had seen so far, except for maybe Sans and that one ghostly figure in the ruins, who all seemed to be resembling something organic or things that would be considered living in the surface world, be it animal or plant. This one, however, was a being of pure fire. An orange flame that took the shape of a humanoid figure, wearing what appeared to be dirty but fireproof bartender outfit complete with glasses on it's "head" that seemed to be held in the air by nothing. Currently, this flaming bartender was cleaning an empty beer glass, and judging by the position of his spectacles, the figure seemed to be watching her, Flowey and Sans approach him.
"I'm… I'm guessing that's Grillby?" Frisk asked Flowey, somewhat nervously.
"Uh-huh, that's him," Flowey confirmed.
Without even hesitating, Sans took a seat on an empty barstool in front of the counter. Then he patted on another loose seat by his left.
"C'mon kiddo, I won't bite," he said without turning back.
Frisk, starting to feel the growth of some sudden dread within her, took a seat on the stool.
"The usual Grilbz," Sans said to the bartender. "But a triple serving this time. Also, get two more for my two friends here."
The flaming humanoid nodded and walked to a back door to the kitchen.
"What's the… usual?" Frisk asked.
"Burger and fries," Sans asked. "You like burgers right?"
"Uhh… I guess?" Frisk answered.
"Come now," Sans said. "Who doesn't like burgers?"
"She's clearly not in the mood trashbag," Flowey suddenly said.
"Ok, gee," Sans said, still with a grin on his face. "Just trying to lighten the mood."
Frisk took a quick look at her flowery companion. Despite everything, she did not expect to hear something like this from him.
She then turned to look more around the bar, to further look at all the wondrous denizens. There was not much speaking going on, only some grumblings from the three gambling elderlies, or whom Frisk assumed were elderlies. Thankfully, her doubts were quickly squashed just a moment later, as some of them finally began to talk out loud, and they sounded just as cranky as they looked.
"Hey," said one that looked like a large brown elderly hen. "Did ya hear about that funeral today?"
"Ay, the one for Ivan," said one that resembled a large, reddish feathered humanoid bird wearing a greasy tanktop. "Shame about that. That boy was too young."
"Far too common now," said the third one, who looked like a human with a donkey head. "Ain't nothing like that happening under the old Asgore."
"Poor ol' Isabell," the chicken said again. "Outliving yer child. I can't imagine that."
"Mhmm," the reddish bird said simply.
"Oh right, sorry, Avy," the chicken said apologetically. "I momentarily forgot about your… about your…"
"That was several years ago," the reddish bird, Avy, said back. "Doesn't hurt me that much no more."
"I see," the chicken said.
With that, they all three became silent again. Frisk looked around the bar once more, turning in her stool to take a better look. She looked around, quickly, almost like there was something that moved in the corner of her eyes, but she always just missed once she glimpsed at its location. For some reason she couldn't understand at first, she wanted to yell at all the silent monsters to start talk or sing or even fight. Just anything that could destroy this eerie silence amongst all of them. But she realized then that this silence was possibly just a symptom of what actually bothered her. This entire bar was filled with creatures she had never seen, beings that resembled not just animals, but plants, fires and even corpses, but they all were living, breathing like her. She felt like everywhere she wasn't looking, there were stranges eyes of what were supposed to be unnatural creatures glaring at her, staring. Watching. Waiting for her to sleep, or to make a misstep. She figured she was just imagining things. But she couldn't tell anymore. She couldn't trust herself anymore, on what was real or what was-
"Hey kiddo," Sans suddenly said. "The food's here."
"Oh, right," Frisk said, mildly spooked.
Pulled from her thoughts, she turned back towards the counter, with her back to whatever horror, if any, were watching her. She looked down at her food. The burger seemed uncomfortably wet from the grease and sauce, and the fries looked stale and undesirable. But Frisk didn't think much of it and just grabbed the burger with her hands and pressed it in her open mouth.
"You seem tense," Sans said, with the same grin on his face like he was mocking her.
"Is… something wrong Frisk?" Flowey asked, but with much clearer worry than the skeleton.
"I'm fine," Frisk said, her mouth full.
It tasted just as sweaty as it looked, with the vegetables feeling soggy before they even touched her mouth, and the sauce, if there was one, was almost tasteless. But the meat was thankfully satiating, perhaps the only thing in the burger that was. Whether it was a mix of some strange seasoning or oil, it proved juice enough for her. But then it hit her. She was eating meat. So she paused and looked at it, at the half-eaten bitten insides. It looked very similar from the inside like an average burger. Even the meat.
She slowly put it down feeling a tinge of shock. She turned around back to other monsters at the bar, all munching on the same or similar burgers, including what looked like an anorexic cow.
"Uh… Flowey?" she asked.
"What?" the flower asked while clumsily eating from his plate.
"What… what are we eating?" she frightfully asked.
"It's a burger," Sans said before Flowey got a word out.
He was eating as well, just as messy, if not more, as Frisk's companion. But unlike Flowey who at least had an excuse of handicap, Sans didn't, so he clearly just didn't care how messy he looked or was.
"I know it's a…" Frisk began. "But… I mean… what's in it?"
"Oh," Sans said before licking his bony fingers. "Well, there's… vegetables. Tomatoes, kale, ketchup, meat, and-"
"Yeah, that!" Frisk said, on the verge of panicking now. "What… where does this meat come from?! I mean… where does it-?!"
"It's lab-grown," Sans causally said.
"Wait, what?" Frisk asked.
"Yeah, with magic and science," Flowey confirmed. "Stuff like that."
"Oh…" Frisk said, a bit calmer now.
She felt like the biggest idiot in the world now, but she felt also relieved along with her embarrassment.
"Oh god I thought that…" she said, smiling at her dumb assumptions.
"You thought what?" Sans asked while casually taking another bite.
"I thought that…" she began before stopping. "Nevermind."
"Does meat come from somewhere else on the surface?" Flowey asked.
"Uhh…" Frisk began, unsure of how to answer this question. "Kinda? In some places, that is. I mean, in my country it's lab-grown as well but… I just didn't expect this town to have the technology or… budget for those sorts of things."
"Well, it actually comes from The Capital," Sans said. "Used to be made here but… eh. But that's just what I read."
Clearly not interested in this subject, he took another bite of his burger.
"Ok…" Frisk said, unsure.
"Wait, where else would meat come from?" Flowey asked her curiously.
"Uhh, nowhere?!" Frisk quickly answered. "I don't know?! The farm or whatever?!"
"Hmm, ok," Flowey said and proceeded to continue with her food.
Frisk looked down at her half-eaten food. It no longer looked desirable. Whether that was due to her anxiety or embarrassment from her terrifying yet wrong sense of realization, she didn't know. She was never sure of her own emotions, even before she came to this strange world.
"Never seen you here before," said a calm yet unfamiliar masculine voice nearby.
"Uh, what?" Frisk said, taking a moment to realize it was meant for her.
She looked up and saw the burning bartender seemingly looking at her, almost with intrigue.
"You're an ape monster aren't you?" the bartender continued.
"W-why you ask?" Frisk asked nervously.
"No reason," Grillby said. "Just curious."
"Did something happen Grillby?" Flowey asked suspiciously.
"Oh, no," the bartender said. "Nothing has happened. Yet. I am in a fine mood in fact."
"Right…" Flowey replied, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Y'know, the Great Mickey is an ape monster as well," Grillby continued.
There's that name again, Frisk thought, her interest peaking but still shivering mildly from the namedrop.
"You… know him?" she pried.
"Eh, not personally," Grillby answered to Frisk's disappointment.
Should've known it wouldn't be that easy, she thought.
"Do you?" Grillby suddenly. "Do you know him? Since you're also an ape monster that is?"
"Erm… no," Frisk said awkwardly. "Not that I… know of. Must be from like a… erm... a different… tribe or something."
"Apetown has tribes?" Grillby asked with intrigue. "Huh. Didn't know that."
"Uh… yeah…" Frisk said awkwardly.
Please don't let this bite me in the back later, she thought.
"Anyway, sorry for assuming," Grillby said apologetically.
"It's… fine," Frisk said.
"Well, either way, Mickey's a true hero," Grillby said. "You should be proud. If you ask me, he's much better than this Ashu-Tsuki figure."
"Ashu-Tsuki?" Frisk repeated, her interest suddenly changing. "Huh. Why do I feel like I've heard that name somewhere before?"
"You probably have," Sans said. "They are like a local hero around these parts. Maybe you've heard it in passing from someone."
"Nah, I don't think so," Frisk said. "Or at least, not from around here I mean."
"They are more like a filthy vigilante," Grillby said with a strange hint of personal bitterness.
"Uh-huh," Sans replied, clearly in disagreement.
"Or maybe I have?" Frisk said, thinking. "I dunno. Do you know who that is, Flowey?"
"Yeah, of course," the flower confirmed. "I only remember like bits though. I know. Typical."
"Well, what do you remember?" Frisk asked him curiously.
"Nothing more than the basics, unfortunately," Flowey said. "They are some sort of a vigilante type around here, no one knows who or what kind of monster they really are and… yeah, that's about it. Nothing no one in town can't also tell you. I'm not sure if I have ever even managed to encounter her personally."
"Her?" Frisk repeated.
"Oh, what did I say?" Flowey asked back. "Sorry. Think I had like a mind fart there."
"Either way, you shouldn't be listening to what the kids tell you," Grillby said. "They just don't know any better. This… Ashu-Tsuki is not to be idolized. They don't follow any rules or sense of honour, but rather their twisted self made code. Now Mickey, on the other hand, now that is a true hero. Someone I wish more kids, even my own daughter, looked up to."
"Why is that?" Frisk asked curiously.
"Well, why not?" Grillby simply said. "Mickey truly lives to his moniker of Great. He is strong, compassionate and-"
"Bullshit!" someone else in the bar said strongly.
It took everyone a moment to realize who said that, even Frisk who mildly recognized that voice from just moments ago. It was Avy, one of the three elderly monsters playing poker on the round table, who had spoken. Following the suit of everyone else in the bar, except for Sans, Frisk and Flowey turned to look at him. The reddish bird sat by the end of the round table, his bird face expressing tiredness and irritation, and holding a stack of cards in his feathered hand. Even his two companions stared at him in surprise.
"W-what did you just say?" Grillby asked him, sounding both insulted and nervous.
"It's bullshit," Avy reiterated. "Compassionate? Mickey? Bah. It's all lies. Cheap propaganda and you know it. Yet you perpetuate it. Why? Hell, now that I think about it, maybe you perpetuating of it is the reason you, your family and this place are so well off compared to the rest of the town."
"Are you… are you accusing me of taking bribes?" Grillby asked, now clearly insulted.
"Nah," Avy said. "Or at least not straightly. I'm just saying you're a coward. You all are. Everyone in this town is a gods-dammed coward."
He threw his cards on the table and angrily took a sip from an alcohol bottle nearby, seemingly careless about the countless eyes staring at him now. His two elderly companions seemed to sense like something was afoot and sp rushed to gather their money and things.
"I uh… I forgot to do something at home," the donkey said, clearly excusing.
"M-me too," the hen said.
And as fast as their old muscles and bones could manage, they rushed out the bar, leaving a trail of floating feathers behind them. So now only Avy sat by that table. Him against the entire town, but with a visible sense of rage, pride and assuredness.
"What's going on?" Frisk whispered to Flowey.
"No idea," Flowey answered, sounding confused.
"What, you all got nothing to say?" Avy asked. "Too scared to even face the truth, huh?"
"How-how dare y-you!" Grillby said in an attempt to sound tough. "Mickey is our hero. A…a true champion and a… and a…"
"Y'know, Mickey ain't gonna fuck you if you keep praising him like that," Avy said and chuckled.
Grillby, despite having no discernible facial features, still seemed clearly insulted now. But there was also a hint of fear, judging by how he trembled.
"I used to think Undyne was bad, back in the day," the old bird continued. "And yeah, she was loud, extreme and often thought with her fists rather than her brain."
He took another big swig from his drink.
"But," Avy continued once he was done. "At least she had honour. At least heart and thoughts were towards us, towards the people. And most importantly, unlike Mickey, she never ever… fetishized cruelty. Or at least, never so openly."
"You're… you're saying Mickey fetishizes cruelty?" Grillby asked him.
"Oh, what else would you call it?" the bird asked without looking at him.
"You… know about Mickey?" Frisk felt herself blurt out without thinking.
It took her a moment to realize what she just asked. She didn't have the question on her mind, or at least so she thought, but the words seemed to come from some deep part within her, a part that seemed to demand answers now after being too long left in the dark.
"Heh, what gave it away?" Avy replied to her. "You're right. I do know a lot about him. A lot more than most living monsters in this town in fact. Which says a lot, considering the event with poor old Ferdinand we were all were privy to, many years back."
"We all promised Mickey and The Hunt to not talk about that with newcomers!" a young donkey monster nearby said to him sternly.
"Well, don't worry, I ain't gonna talk about that," the bird said. "Despite the fact that what happened that day was… utterly terrible."
He then took a quick look at someone else in the bar before taking another swig of his alcohol bottle.
Frisk turned to see where he looked and saw a monster resembling an unhealthily skinny brown bear in the corner, wearing a torn and dirty orange jacket and clearly too drunk to notice his surroundings. That monster seemed to be doing nothing but mumble raving nonsense to himself and drinking from a large bottle before then quickly passing out.
"Nah," Avy said, turned back to the rest of the onlookers. "I have another story. One that does more than just hint at the depravity that only this "Great Mickey" is capable of, as someone like the poor ol' brother of that fat skeleton over there could tell you."
"Wait, is he talking about you Sans?" Frisk whispered. "You… know something about him."
Sans didn't answer. Just kept eating his food like he didn't hear.
"Hey wait a minute," Flowey whispered with a hint of realization. "Did something happen to Papyrus? Sans, what happened to Papyrus?"
"Told you before," Sans simply answered. "I can't tell you. Sorry."
Frisk noticed the same hint of unease from him as when she first asked him about Mickey. To her, it was undebatable. He was hiding something. Something he knew about Mickey and The Royal Hunt.
"Alright," Grillby sternly said to the old bird. "What is this story you have?"
Avy grew a smug grin on his beak.
"Well go on," Flowey said to him.
"Yeah, we're ready," Frisk said, turning her attention back to the bird.
The bird took a deep breath before he put the bottle of booze to his mouth and chugged. He chugged and chugged like it was the last time he could ever do so. Then once the bottle was empty, he slammed it down on the round table, and Frisk almost expected it to shatter from the impact. Then he took a deep breath and smiled smugly again.
"So… you want to hear about Mickey?" Avy said. "Alright then. Sit down and listen. This might take long, but I will tell you all the truth about Mickey."
Author's note:
"So Jay, what did you do during the quarantine?"
"I wrote a chapter for an Undertale Fanfiction that featured a child funeral."
So yeah, this was something. Admittedly, this might be the darkest scene so far.
No, this ain't some April fools joke. I just happen to upload this today, of all days. Once again, sorry for the delay. This was kind of a difficult chapter though, so now I at least have an excuse for it. Honestly, I don't have much to say here. I just want to say that I really want to give out these chapters on a much faster rate, but who knows? I still haven't lost interest or anything, so don't be worried. I just take my time sometimes.
Anyway, here is the next chapter. This is a bit of a downer one, I admit. The next one will be kinda gruesome though, so be prepared for that.