Chapter Text
From the darkness her vision slowly returned to an unsteady focus. Hearing was next to follow, going from a high pitched shrilling to a sudden honing echo of sound-- whispers in different voices, speaking at once, reverberating from the tiles and pillars of the judgment hall. The unintelligible words swirled in her head, getting louder, louder-- then, silence.
Though her vision was still blurred and her head was swimming, Frisk could make out the cloudy visage of a figure in-front of her. Bathed in rays of gold from the intricate glass windows, a hoodie wearing skeleton stood. Hands in his pockets, with his head lowered, his face was set in anger; his eyes dark, hollow pits.
Taking a step forward, Frisk wobbled unsteadily on her feet; the girl’s boots squeaked and her body jerked slightly to the side. She felt something fall from her hands. It made a metallic clang, then a slight plop as if hitting liquid. Looking down, the girl's eyes widened.
The golden tiles were covered in a deep crimson.
A sharp cold chill washed over Frisk as she realized she was slipping in her own blood. She looked down at the knife by her feet, and caught sight of her reflection on the large blades smooth shiny surface.
It hit like a wave; suddenly aware of the damage, she looked at her shaking hands, her torso, legs. Frisk took in a deep breath.
A wet rattle came from her stony lungs. Immediately, there was a sharp hot pain that raced through her sides, accompanying a grinding noise that sounded like bones rubbing together. Holding her stomach, Frisk coughed hard, blood spilled from her mouth. The metallic taste and smell battered her senses.
"Why won't you just die?" Hissed a deep and familiar voice. "Why do you do this to me? Why?"
Still clutching her sides the human looked up at the skeleton who still stood a few meters away.
"Sans?" Frisk’s voice was gravelly. It felt as if she was drowning. Her entire body was shivering with cold. She held out a bloodied hand, reaching.
The skeleton didn't say a word. Head lowered, breathing heavily, he pulled his hands out of his jacket pockets and began walking forward.
"Sans?" Frisks voice was strained, her hand still reaching, blood dripping from the tips of her trembling fingers.
Sans' eyes went dark. His posture, menacing. He clenched his skeletal fists.
"Sans, what's going on…?"
His skull snapped up.
"ENOUGH!" Sans roared, eye erupting into a bright blue and yellow flame. He thrust his hand forward in the human’s direction. It too began to glow blue. "JUST SHUT UP!" He clenched his fist. "DIE. You little, FREAK."
Frisk choked out a desperate sob as Sans grabbed onto her soul roughly, causing her body to jerk violently to the side. Her chest was glowing; it was so bright that it made her ribcage visible.
Sans violently thrust his hand towards the floor. The captive soul followed its skeletal conductor's commands.
The force of slamming to the ground nearly knocked Frisk out-- the ringing in their ears started again, as she rolled onto her stomach, spitting out blood and bits of broken teeth.
She felt the ground vibrate beneath her. The human looked up to see a large, demonic, dragon skull staring her down, Sans stood directly underneath--it looked like he was saying something but she couldn't hear.
The jaws of the demon skull silently opened upon Sans's hand direction. Light began to gather in it's mouth. Frisk watched as droplets of blood began to rise, as if gravity itself was being tampered with. The whispering of the voices started again.
Sobbing, the human reached out a hand towards him again, but it was all in vain.
There was a muffled bang and a flash of light.
It felt like she was being torn to pieces.
"Can’t you see?" Said the voice, "I’m only trying to protect you."