Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

* Long ago, two races ruled over Earth. Humans and monsters.

* War broke out. Eventually, humanity triumphed, sealing them underground with a powerful spell.

* They were never heard from again. The end.

Frisk woke up in a bed of golden flowers. To say their head hurt was a gross understatement. All the hangovers of the world were currently attending an exclusive rave behind their eyes. They could barely understand where they were, or even why they were.

But more pressing was the very likely possibility that they had broken nearly all the bones in their body. When they tried to move, burning hot pain raced up their spine, forcing them back to the ground. Though they couldn't see it (nor much of anything), they could somewhat sift through the sea of pain and pinpoint that they'd broken a few ribs, possibly some of their spine too, though nothing that would turn them into a vegetable. Probably.

Their migraine abating, they made another attempt to drag themselves to their feet. Biting their lip to distract themselves from the searing pain crawling up their back, they slowly and carefully managed to get on their knees. They were treated to an unpleasant pop as they stretched, feeling their vertebrae clicking back into place. There was still pain, but less savage than before, save for their ribs. Truth told, they were surprised they could even bear the pain. These injuries weren't the type of thing a person could just walk off.

They took a breath, sampling the air's arcane flavour — damp, but with a tinge of electric sweetness — then turned their neck slowly, taking in their surroundings proper. They were in some kind of cave, but the walls had been chiselled into a grey brick. Sunlight was dripping from a huge opening in the ceiling above. They really had to wonder how they hadn't died from that fall.

Whatever, I'm not complaining.

They reached into their pockets, withdrawing a fresh cigarette and a used gauze. They felt an involuntary shudder as they put them back in their pocket. Smoothing out their blue and purple striped shirt, they were finally able to stand, but only just. There was a passageway just opposite them that led towards a huge, arched doorway. Nowhere else to go, I guess.

They took a careful first step, gradually gaining pace as they made their way down the passage. As they neared the doorway, they could make out some kind of insignia above it. A circle with wings, sitting atop three triangles, the middle pointing downward.

Never seen that before.

They walked through, entering another cave. There was a lone golden flower in a small patch of dirt in the centre of the space, with another arched doorway on the opposite side.

"Howdy!"

Frisk looked around dumbly, trying to find the source of the voice. A short cough echoed throughout the room.

"Down here, friend."

Frisk looked down at the flower smiling brightly up at them.

"I was just saying, howdy!" he said. "I'm a flower, but you can call me Flowey!"

"Plants can't talk..." said Frisk, more surprised by the sound of their own voice than the talking flower before them.

"Well, this one sure can!" Flowey replied, poking his tongue out playfully. "Whoa, you sure look like death! I see this place has claimed yet another victim!"

"Victim?" they asked.

"Yep!" he said, his peppy tone not matching his words. "Welcome to the Underground! The home of monsters and of course, little ol' me!" He winked.

"Monsters?" they asked.

Flowey tossed his petals, seeming annoyed by their questions. "Well, you are new here," he said thoughtfully. "Guess you don't know how things work around here, do you? Buuuuut, don't worry! Little ol' Flowey will give you the four-one-one!"

They felt a strange sense of foreboding, and wanted to ask Flowey to hold on a moment, to let them get their bearings, but suddenly felt a phantasmal tugging in their chest. They looked down just in time to see a glowing red heart floating before them.

"See that dashing fellow right there?" asked Flowey.

They nodded.

"That's your soul! It's the very culmination of your being, what makes you... you!"

"I didn't think it'd look like a human heart," they said, sounding more like a question. Flowey chuckled, as if this was common knowledge.

"'Course it does! All human souls look like that. However, your soul's still weak. But don't you worry, we can change that!" He winked. "But first things first, you have to call your soul back."

Frisk blinked, wondering whether this was some kind of crazy dream, before realising they were already reaching out to the soul. They felt a strange pull towards it, hand automatically cupping it. A tingling sensation ran up their arm as they made contact with an ominous red mist hanging around the soul. Seemingly without effort, they brought it to their chest, and it phased right into them. They felt decidedly strange, as if something they didn't know they were missing had finally been returned.

"There you go! You're a natural!" Flowey praised. "Now, if you want to strengthen your soul, and you definitely do, you'll want to gain love! There's a lot of ways to do that, but the easiest way is through these suckers!"

At his command, five spinning white pellets appeared above him. "These are concentrated pockets of love! You could say they're like little... pellets of friendliness!"

What the hell is even going on right now?

"You want some love, don't you?" he giggled. "I can tell! Don't worry, I'll share some with you. There’s just something I need from you first..."

"What's that?"

He cleared his throat. "I need your soul."

Frisk's heart skipped a beat. They laughed nervously. "S-sorry, what?"

Flowey, losing all pretence of politeness, turned on them, face twisted in an expression of pure hatred. "DON’T PLAY DUMB WITH ME!" he shrieked. He flung the 'pellets of friendliness' at them, and they quickly dodged. "Give it to me!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" they shouted back. "Jesus, man, what is your problem?"

"You've been taunting me with it this whole time!" he screamed. "Acting like you don't know how powerful it is! Thought you could pull my petals over my eyes?" He flung more pellets at them. Frisk managed to sidestep most of them, but then felt a few graze their arm. They winced, feeling a hot sting at the site. Clutching their arm, they made for the door, only to be assaulted by another hail of pellets. They must've been laced with some kind of poison, because their legs rapidly became leaden and they couldn't move. They almost had to fight just to breathe, a task that was already difficult on account of their cracked ribs. They fell to their knees, wheezing for air, one hand grasping at their throat.

"N-no," they gasped out. "I swear I wasn't!"

Flowey's face contorted horribly. Okay, I guess that was the wrong answer?

"LIAR!" A vine erupted from the ground, ensnaring them. He lifted them of the ground, shaking them relentlessly like a misbehaving infant. Frisk tried to tell him they only just got here and they didn't understand what was going on but that they could just talk about this. They instead screamed as they heard something snapping, followed by their nerves joining the choir of agony. It felt like they were on the receiving end of a battery-acid embalming.

"PLEASE I SWEAR I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" they screamed, eyes screwed shut, tears streaming down their face. "PLEASE STOP!"

He didn't stop, but eventually seemed to get tired of shaking them around, throwing them on the ground without a care. Their head was spinning, the room was just a blur and Flowey was barely in focus, though they could feel vines all over their body, crawling up their thighs, rifling around in their pockets, snaking around their neck...

"What's this?" came the flower's voice, sounding far away.

"I-I don't know…" they whispered.

"Bullshit," he cackled. "Nobody carries this stuff and doesn't know wh—"

He stopped. He looked at them. They could vaguely make out his expression to be one of incredulity. Then he started laughing. Not cruel or mocking laughter, but like he was an audience member on the set of a 2000s' sitcom.

"Oh, golly, you actually have no idea!" he wheezed. "Oh my God, you idiot. You're hilarious."

The vines around their neck tightened. They clawed at them, but their surface was slick and they were tighter than a vice. "A total idiot like you doesn't deserve that kind of power anyway," he said smugly. "All that potential... it'd be totally wasted on you!" His breath hit them right in the face, hot and damp like the soil he'd crawled out of. "You're not long for this world, kid. I'd just be prolonging the inevitable by letting you live!" He giggled. "That's right... I'm just doing you a favour! Ending your miserable excuse for a life before someone else does it for you!"

The vines tightened even more. They couldn't see through their tears and rapidly darkening vision. Please God no I don't want to die I can't I can't I—

Then, without warning, the vines loosened. They gasped for air, practically sucking it in like some kind of oxygen fiend. Their body, which had been on fire just seconds ago, suddenly felt warm, and their nerves, which were reaching the crescendo of their death metal concert of agony, quietened.

"What the...? How did you...!"

Before Flowey could say another word, they heard a spark, everything going deadly silent. An intense wave of heat hit them, and Flowey yelped, recoiling away from them, and then, it was over.

Frisk blinked, rubbing the dirt and tears from their eyes. They rolled onto their side, looking towards where they thought the doorway was, seeing a tall figure approaching them.

"What a disgusting abomination... torturing an innocent child..."

It sounded feminine, maybe late forties. They looked up, seeing what looked like a snow-white mountain goat standing on two legs. She was dressed in a two-tone purple and white robe, adorned with the same insignia they had seen above the doorway moments before.

Is this one of the 'monsters' Flowey was talking about?

"Ah, do not be afraid, my... child," she assured. "I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins." She knelt by their side, though Frisk flinched away from her almost instinctively. "I come here every day to see if anyone has... fallen down."

"What, are you gonna try and kill me too?" they spat, almost daring her to.

"That flower..." she said, her eyes darkening. "He is not one of us... I assure you... he is our... mutual enemy. I mean you no harm."

Frisk hesitated. She didn't seem antagonistic, and she was probably the reason Flowey had fled. They didn't want to make the same mistake twice, but her words sounded genuine. And they didn't really have any other choice, besides dying, which wasn't really a legitimate choice anyway.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, I guess.

"I... alright," they said. "I believe you."

Toriel sighed. "Thank you," she replied, sounding relieved. As she looked over them, her expression turned concerned. "You are not... ill, are you?"

"Oh, nah," they replied sarcastically, "I only broke a few bones."

She gave a shocked gasp, reaching towards them. "H-hey, what are you—?" the tried to protest, but Toriel had already put a huge, fuzzy palm on their chest, the other feeling their spine up and down. They could almost feel their bones clicking back together like some kind of elaborate calcium jigsaw puzzle, every cut sealing and even the poison in their system being siphoned away.

"How are you doing this...?" they asked faintly, feeling an energy converging in their chest, spreading across their body, all the way to the tips of their fingers and toes, before dissipating entirely.

Toriel removed herself from them. "I have done all I can," she explained.

They nodded, not really knowing what she had done, though they knew they definitely felt way better. "Uh... thanks. Miss, uh...?"

She giggled stupidly. "Please... just call me Toriel."

"Sure thing, Tore-e-ell," they replied, over-pronouncing the name for effect.

She cleared her throat, extending a hand to them. "Shall we go? I will... guide you through the Ruinsssss..."

"Okay..." they exhaled, then squeezed her hand as tight as they could manage, the mountain goat lifting them to their feet. They loosened their grip, a little unsteady, but still upright. As they looked around, they noticed the cigarette and gauze lying on the ground on Flowey's patch of dirt. The items didn't have any financial nor sentimental value, but they were the only personal effects they had upon waking up here. They scooped them up and put them back in their pocket, turning back to Toriel and nodding. "Well... you lead the way."

She curtsied somewhat clumsily, then began to lead them through the doorway at the opposite end of the room. It took them through a short passageway built up with grey bricks, but opened up into a large, open space built of beautiful purple bricks. Two sets of stairs were carved out, curving up to meet another arched doorway, flanked by tall marble pillars and carved-out hollows in the walls where water was flowing down, Frisk's eyes tracing its path along the perimeter of the room. A small deciduous tree was growing between the stairs, sitting in a huge pile of autumn-coloured leaves. They could also make out an odd, glowing yellow light emanating seemingly from nowhere in front of the trunk.

As the pair approached the stairs, Frisk walked over to it. Now that they were closer, they could make out what looked almost like tiny stars and sparkles disappearing and reappearing within the mysterious light.

They cautiously reached out to touch it. The moment their fingertips had barely caressed the light, they heard a voice inside their head speak.

* A ruined civilisation towers above you, its shadow enveloping your own. What was lost has now returned.

Did I... did I think that just now?

They looked around, assuming someone was trying to catch their attention, but there was nobody else besides them and Toriel. They hummed, eyes still scanning the area curiously.

"Er-hem!" came Toriel's voice. She was standing atop the plateau where the two stairs met. Though she smiled patiently at them, her voice suggested urgency. "We mussst... make haste. Please follow me."

They shrugged. "Sure, whatever," they replied, climbing the steps to her level and following her through the doorway, which they could now see, bore the same enigmatic emblem as the seemingly every other doorway in this place. Toriel was giving some kind of speech, sounding as though she'd done it many times before. "The Ruins passageways have many puzzles... Ancient fusionssss between diversions and doorkeys. Please... adjust yourself to the sight of them..." she was saying, though Frisk wasn't paying much attention to the actual puzzle. Toriel depressed four pressure plates on the ground, then pulled a lever. Somewhere, a mechanism started up, then the door slowly opened.

Toriel took a bow. "I shall be waiting in the next room."

On the wall opposite the lever she had pulled was a bronze plaque, upon which was inscribed: Only the fearless may proceed. Brave ones, foolish ones. Both not walk the middle road.

Why are there puzzles in this place anyway? Are they trying to keep people out?

Entering the next room, the flowing water from the Ruins entrance made more sense to them now, as they could spy it flowing past iron grating and even spilling out around the room, wooden bridges built over them. "So, I guess this is where your water supply flows from? Is there a main reservoir somewhere or something?" they asked.

"It is drawn directly from the Earth," she explained, "then flows downstream through the Ruinssss, and is purified and becomes drinking water."

They nodded. "Cool."

"There is a simple puzzle in this room," she added, crossing one of the bridges, gesturing loosely around here. "I have labelled the switches that control the door."

Frisk looked around, spotting two levers, each at opposite ends of the room, with an abhorrent amount of red arrows painted on the walls pointing towards each, and as if that wasn't enough, they had also been circled in red as well.

They pulled both, and sure enough, the door opened. Toriel clapped. "Sss...splendid! I am proud of you, little one."

They rolled their eyes. Thanks for the obvious heightism, lady.

"Let us proceed to the next room," she suggested. "The... lesson you will learn there is... most important."

They followed her into the L-shaped room. There was a makeshift wooden weapons rack with some crude spears and blades held in its clutches. Standing opposite them, as though waiting for them, was a training dummy.

"As a human living in the Underground," Toriel explained, "monsters... may attack you. You will need to be prepared for this possibility."

Frisk didn't say anything.

"Fear not," she continued. "The process is simple. When you encounter a monster, ascertain whether they intend to cause you harm. You may do this through questioning or by the pattern of their magical manifestation."

What the hell is this woman rambling about?

"Once you have ascertained their... intent. You may strike up a friendly conversationnnn... stall for time. I will... resolve any conflict that arishes..."

Is she seriously asking me to be a doormat to a hypothetical monster that wants to attack me? They scoffed to themselves. That's how I nearly got killed like... five minutes after waking up here?

"Go ahead... practice talking to the dummy."

They looked at the dummy a second time. Still standing there, inanimate as ever. They flashed Toriel a confused glance. I know how to talk, is there not gonna be any training for if I have to actually fight?

Seemingly sensing hesitation, Toriel consoled them. "Do not worryyyy, you may say anything you like to it." She giggled. "After all, it is onlyyy a dummy."

"Alright then," they muttered. They walked up to it, clearing their throat. They looked around, seeing nobody else. This is ridiculous, they thought to themselves.

"Hi," they volunteered plainly. Naturally, as it was a dummy, simply designed to withstand punishment from budding fighters, it sat silently and didn't reply. "Do you... understand anything I'm saying to you or..." they said, trailing off awkwardly.

The room was painfully quiet now. They groaned. Great, this is embarrassing. "What? Too good for the likes of me?" they asked, semi-sarcastically. They reached into their pocket, pulling out the cigarette. "Can I get you a light or something? That's always a great way to start the conversation, isn't it, my button-eyed friend?"

Nothing.

They rolled their eyes. Fuck this, I'm done. They turned around to look at Toriel, and she nodded, seeming pleased. "The next puzzle awaits."

That was a puzzle? Or a test? Was she trying to see if the fall scrambled my brains or something?

"There is another puzzle in this room. I wonder if you cannn... solve it...?"

"You could give me a hint," they suggested helpfully.

"Tryyy... solving it on your own firstt..." she insisted, her lop ears twitching as she shook her head.

"Fine." They followed her out of the hall into a more open rectangular room. It seemed to be primarily water, with a few islands between them and the exit doorway, all connected with wooden bridges. Not really being able to glean anything from their initial surveying of the place, they looked back at Toriel and shrugged. "No idea. Can you just tell me the answer?"

"Please..." she insisted, "give it one more tryyyy..."

Their lips twisted sourly. "I have severe head trauma. Shouldn't I at least get a break from mental exercises?" they asked sarcastically.

She didn't answer. They didn't think it was because she just wasn't having their attitude either, it seemed more like their jab hadn't registered with her on any physical, spiritual, psychological or metaphysical level, or any other level in which it was possible to register on.

They groaned. Looks like I'm gonna actually have to try and solve the puzzle. Would be nice if I at least knew the rules.

They started wandering around the little clearing before a bridge crossed over to the first island, looking for anything that could maybe give them a clue to the solution. As they were inspecting what they (falsely) assumed were false bricks, they felt something brushing against their bare leg. Looking down, they noticed something that looked like a particularly large frog, roughly the size of a cat, croaking at them.

* Froggit. Rudimentary defences and mana capabilities.

* No relevant information.

Where the hell is that voice coming from? they wondered. It's... definitely not me. After all, there's no way I knew this thing's name. Am I... alright?

The Froggit opened its mouth, a couple of flies scattering out. Frisk brushed them away, annoyed. "Yeah, dude, your lunch escaped, might wanna catch it," they said.

"Ribbit," it replied.

"Ahh..." they hummed. It seems harmless enough. Maybe I should try what Toriel suggested. They took out the cigarette again. "You want a puff or something? I don't really need it, so..."

It made more decidedly froggish croaking and ribbiting sounds, but for some odd reason they got the impression that it was agreeing with them. It tentatively approached them. They held it out for the monster to see. "Full disclosure, I don't have a light, so you'll have to figure that part out on your own," they added.

Before Froggit could make up its mind about whether or not it wanted to blaze, Toriel stepped between them. and Frisk saw her give the poor frog the most extreme death glare they'd ever seen. It cringed underneath her intense eyes, shrinking away from the pair guiltily. They were surprised the monster didn't shrivel up and die on the spot.

"It seems that... puzzles are too dangerous for nowww..." she observed, pacing thoughtfully. Frisk wanted to argue that she hadn't even given them a real chance at trying because they didn't know the rules of the puzzle, or even where the components were, but they didn't complain. She was supposed to be guiding them, after all.

As they turned to her, they heard the ancient door mechanism groaning as it opened down the hall. They didn't even have time to ask her how she did that, because she was practically already halfway to the door. Shaking their head, they hurriedly followed her through the door. She was swaying slightly as she walked.

"Toriel!" they huffed exasperatedly. "Slow down, sheesh."

She turned around, looking around confusedly, before looking down and seemingly recognising them. "You have done... excellently thus far, child. Howeverrr..." She blinked, eyes a little glazed. "I have a... a difficult request... to make of you."

Frisk noticed her cheeks were flushed, and she looked like she was really struggling to get any words out at all. They raised an eyebrow at her. "You good, Toriel?" they asked.

"I would... like you to walllkkkkk..." She swallowed. "Go to the end... of the room by yourshelfffff...

"Forgive me..."

"Uh... what?"

She spun around, and began to sprint away, but in her haste, tripped and fell face-first on the ground. The impact was so loud it almost didn't sound real. She didn't try to get up again.

"Holy shit, Toriel!" they cried, rushing to her aid. She didn't resist as they tried to lift her up, albeit with great difficulty and barely-restrained cursing from the weak and still-injured Frisk. They grabbed the neck of her robe, dragging her off the path and letting her slump against the wall. Then they threw her arm over their shoulder, using all of their back to lift her to her feet. Their spine didn't like that at all, and made sure they knew about it. They bit their tongue until they tasted copper.

Toriel mumbled a near-incoherent "thank you," still wobbling like a plateful of jelly as Frisk walked with her down the unnecessarily long corridor, doing their best to support her body. Once they made it to the end, Toriel fell away from them, leaning up against a chipped marble pillar, mumbling to herself for a few minutes. Frisk watched her anxiously, wondering if they should just make a run for it. But they didn't move.

Eventually, Toriel turned her head, so she was looking at them out of the corner of her eye. "I have... business to attend to..." she slurred, her eyelashes fluttering as she tried to keep her eyes open. "It'sss... dangerush... to explore by yourselfff... I will give you a.. I will... a cell phone... if you would happen to..." She briefly looked as though she would throw up. "Need anything."

She stumbled forward, pressing the phone into Frisk's chest as she did. She wrapped her arms around them, the weight of her huge body fully leaning into them. They smelled alcohol all over her.

Then, she stumbled out of the room. Leaving Frisk alone.

They looked down, seeing the phone that she'd given them clutched in their grasp. It was an incredibly basic flip phone. Opening it, they could see the silver plastic casing was dirty and scratched up, the keypad badly chipped and gungy. Besides that, it had a diamond-shaped navigation cluster, call accept and decline buttons, and not much else.

You've definitely seen better days, friend.

Pursing their lips, looking around nervously, they turned it on, seeing that it had a SIM card installed. I might... might as well give it a try...

They keyed in a number, then dialled. Pressing the phone against their ear, they heard it ring once... twice...

I'm pretty sure I got the number right...

....thrice... four times...

"We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service," came the phone's automated message. "If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and..."

Frisk shut their eyes, letting the intercept message continue as they laid their head against the wall, whispering "Fuck" near-silently to themselves.

Should've known it wouldn’t be that easy, huh...

They sighed, looking back down both ends of the corridor. Nobody else in sight. Toriel had told them to stay here and call her if they needed anything, but at this point, they wouldn't be surprised if she was face-down in a stream somewhere. And just standing around didn’t seem like a better option anyway.

They stepped out of the hallway, entering another room. The ceiling was cracked in some places, and they could vaguely see light leaking in from somewhere. There were also piles of autumn leaves scattered across the ground, some even blowing into the waterway that ran along the perimeter of the wall opposite them. There seemed to be a doorway at the end of the room to their right, but there was also one on their left, practically oozing a divine light.

Shiny things. Hmm.

They walked into the room, and sure enough, it was bathed in an ethereal glow, seemingly emanating from a marble pedestal in the room's centre, flanked by two crystal-clear streams. And upon closer inspection, the pedestal was actually hollowed out, some kind of deep bowl full of brightly-coloured candies. It even seemed to be humming, filling the room with an enigmatic swell.

“Something sweet,” they mused.

The bowl had a copper plaque displayed on its front that read 'Please take one'. Rolling their eyes at it, they stuffed their hand inside, grabbing as much as they physically could. Their hand emerged from the acid trip candy bowl, possibly a dozen individually-wrapped candies in their grasp.

As they went to unwrap a violet-coloured candy, they heard a faint creaking coming from above them. They looked up, noticing that some of the bricks that made up the ceiling in the room seemed almost... loose. They were about to shrug it off when they heard the creaking get louder, and then more rough. It was just about then that they realised what was about to happen.

They threw themselves out of the way just as a barrage of bricks and debris came crashing down on the spot where they had been standing just moments prior. They looked back up at the ceiling, then around at the room. The warm humming sound was gone, replaced with a heavy silence. The light had also gone out to buy milk, leaving the room dark and damp.

Getting to their feet, they noticed the plaque on the candy bowl again. It now read 'I warned you.'

They quickly left, even forgetting to scoop up all the candy they'd dropped. It was just a relief to be back out in the room with the scattering leaves, gently-flowing stream and faint light coming from the imperfect ceiling. They were just about to go through the right-side doorway when their attention was grabbed again by a familiar noise.

"Ribbit," said the frog-like creature, accompanied by the crinkling sound of the leaves in the pile it was nestled in.

Frisk looked over at it. "Oh, uh... hey. Froggit, right?"

"Ribbit," it replied.

"So, uh... sorry about that puff not working out for you," they apologised awkwardly. The Froggit didn't really seem to hear them, or maybe just didn’t care. It just kept croaking and making typical frog noises.

I sense there's some kind of language barrier between us here, they thought, amused.

"Well, uh... I gotta get going now. See ya," they said, hurrying through the door before anything else distracted them.

The room looked to be just another corridor with a couple turns every so often. It was remarkably well-lit despite there not being many signs of where the light could be coming from.

Though, they supposed, now that they were alone, they could attempt to wrap their head around what was going on a bit. I wake up underground in some kind of cave, I nearly get killed by some lunatic flower for my soul, which apparently is a real thing, not just an abstract idea to scare kids into joining an organised religion, and now I'm following a sloshed mountain goat around trying to keep her from falling down into a gutter somewhere and dying. They sighed to themselves. Just my luck.

In the middle of their internal monologue to themselves, they bumped into someone, jolting them back to their surroundings. "H-hey! Watch it, will..." they were saying indignantly, before realising what they'd collided with. A small, meek-looking moth monster.

* Whimsun. Non-existent defences and weak offensive capabilities.

* Not a threat.

That voice again... "Uhh... shit, sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going. Are you, uh... alright?"

The monster shrunk away from them, mumbling something Frisk couldn't make out.

"Hey, look—" they started to say, before it burst into tears. "I know! I'm sorry!" it yelled, startling Frisk more than they'd expected. It ran away, bawling its eyes out.

"I was gonna say everything's gonna be fine!" they shouted after it. It had already vanished around a corner. They sighed. "Fuck."

How the hell did I know that thing's name...? They bit their lip nervously. No. Don't panic. You're... you're hallucinating. You're messed up from the fall and the shit that was in Flowey's pellets. Just... ignore it. Pretend it doesn't exist.

They continued down the corridor, noticing the path declining as they rounded a corner. Guess this goes deeper into the 'ruins' or something.

They reached another room, water flowing around the edges of the room, eventually splitting the ground that would lead to the exit door. There was some kind of mechanism at the water's edge consisting of two dark stone pillars and a sliver of metal grating visible as it protruded a little over the flowing water.

They approached the mechanism, not seeing any particular switch or button to activate it. Though they noted that one of the pillars seemed to be taller than the other. And on the opposite side, there was a heavy stone sitting on a grey tile, standing out against the purple-hued architecture of the Ruins.

Taking another glance at the room, they noticed a grey tile to the left that they hadn't seen when they entered. Hmm. Could be some kind of pressure mechanism maybe. It'd explain the rock on the other side.

Stepping onto the plate (albeit cautiously), they heard something click and the leftmost pillar rose a little to meet the other. The sound of grinding cogs emerged from both pillars, and the metal grating began to extend across the gap. It reached the other side, locking into some receptacle, and a sharp clicking sound echoed in the room. Frisk quickly stepped off the plate and made their way across the bridge. Huh, interesting, they thought. But why the hell would someone lock the only way across the water behind a puzzle anyway?

They didn't really give it too much thought. They were led to another corridor though after a sharp 90-degree right-turn, it opened up into a wide set of steps taking them, presumably, further into the Ruins. From the top, it looked like it'd be a long way to the bottom, and there weren't any support rails, so Frisk ran their hand along the wall as they descended. The brick was smooth and damp from the water rushing downstream on both sides, visible from behind the occasional gaps in the wall, blocked in by thick metal bars.

Frisk reached the bottom of the stairs after about a minute or so. The descent had led them to a platform carved out of the rock face. They stepped out into the open, feeling a cool wind against their skin. There was a plaque on the stone railing nearby, and when they got closer to read it, there appeared to have been something engraved there originally, but it had been gouged out and ‘Ruins Outlook’ engraved below it.

They looked over the edge, breathing "Whoa..." at the sight below. Within the huge cave spanning a great distance in all directions, was a beautiful purple city comprising buildings of all shapes and sizes, some even looking like temples or royal palaces with their large rooftop spires and marble balustrades. A fountain so huge it was visible even from this far away was flowing healthily, spraying water jubilantly up into the air, the particles shimmering like an aquatic firework in the light from the crystals in the cave ceiling.

"No way..." they said, almost unaware that they were speaking out loud. "There's a whole city down here? That's gotta be where Toriel is." Looking out over the sea of buildings, they reached into their pocket and fished out their phone. They went into the phone's contacts list and found there were a few names in there already. There was Toriel's name, but before them were two names that had been replaced with three question marks. Frisk stared at them, for a moment, before selecting the first one and then putting the phone to their ear. It rang once... twice... thrice... four times... then went to voicemail.

"H-huh... howdy! You, ah... you're hearing my voicemail, so I'm sorry I didn't pick up... ah, anyway! Leave me a message, I promise I'll get you back!"

The message was spoken in a childlike, Southern drawl, probably male, though you could never tell with kids. They didn't know why, but listening to it felt... wrong somehow.

They selected the second one. It rang four times and went to voicemail as well.

"Greetings. It's me. Whatever I missed, say it here."

Short and terse, spoken in a cold voice that was both cordial and blunt. It gave them an eerie feeling. The two messages couldn't be more different. Why were they on this phone? And why were they the only other contacts besides Toriel? And why had the contact names been erased instead of deleted entirely?

They went to Toriel's number and selected it. Putting it to their ear, cautiously hopeful, they let it ring for what felt like an eternity. Then, they reached voicemail for the third time.

"Salutations! Hehe, it is I, Toriel. Please leave a message with me, I will return your call as soon as I am able."

Frisk sighed in disappointment. They had hoped she would have picked up to at least reassure them she was well, and to tell them where they could find her. She sounds more sober on voicemail than she does in person, they thought humourously. Might make for some light listening.

They turned away from the city, closing the phone and returning it to their pocket. Time to find a way to that city.

The only path to the bottom seemed to have been constructed within the rock wall itself, thankfully safeguarded by thick railings that would stop even the most determined jumper. The outlook led down a few steps to an arched doorway that led inside. With no other way down, and the presentation convincing them of its intent being safe passage from this lookout to the city itself, they made for the doorway, only stopping when they noticed something flash out of the corner of their eye. 

Tilting their head a little, they caught sight of something glinting nearby. Abandoned on the ground beside the railing was some kind of fingerless glove. Upon closer inspection, they could tell it had obviously been crudely modified with razor blades embedded between the knuckles. Though rusted — whether from use, the oxidised blood on the blades, or both — the metal was still clean enough to catch the light (and their attention)

Eugh... who the hell left this behind? they wondered, pinching the hem of the glove between their fingertips, looking it over with disgust. I might as well toss this crap but... she did say people might attack me down here. Might be worth holding onto... just in case.

They folded it in half with the blades facing away from them and then pocketed it. They weren't getting tetanus or some other freaky disease from this tentative self-defence tool. Heading through the doorway, they began to follow the passage. They could still hear water flowing behind the wall to their left as they looked out over the city as they gradually made their way to the bottom.

"An entire city... what else is this place hiding?" they wondered aloud, hand running along the roughly-textured railing absently.

"It's... umm... not a very great city..." came a mumbling voice from alongside them.

Frisk's head snapped over in the direction of the voice. A strange white blob-like creature was floating just opposite them. Its eyes were just dark pits were white ringlike pupils sat, and its small mouth was hanging open a little. Frisk nearly jumped out of their skin, backing up against the railing to create more space between them.

"Holy shit, dude!" they yelled. "Don't sneak up on people like that, I thought I was alone!"

"Oh......sorry... I can leave if—"

"No," they replied firmly. "I, ah... just... try and announce yourself before you just sidle up to people in future, yeah?"

"I guess......" it mumbled.

Frisk gave a quick sigh, moving back to their original spot. "Okay." They began to walk again, the blob following by their side, totally silent now. He didn't make a single noise for a minute or two, which unnerved them a little. I guess he's just not much for idle conversation, they thought.

"What did you mean, 'it's not a very great city'?" they asked, before they could overthink it too much.

"It's... it's pretty run down..." it explained. "Nobody's really 'lived' here in a long time... this is where the monsters converged when they were first sealed underground. Eventually, they pushed... further into the caverns. People started to pack up and leave, but some stayed. Some of them are still here."

"There's more?" asked Frisk. "More cities, I mean."

The blob deformed slightly in a gesture they assumed to be a nod.

"Why'd they stay? Surely the other places they were constructing must've been better," they reasoned.

"I dunno..." the blob shrunk down a little. "I guess they just preferred this place...... it's not too bad, but there's not much to do..."

Frisk gave an involuntary laugh. "Yeah... I know where you're coming from," they said with a hint of reminiscence. Sighing, they kept watching the city grow taller and taller with each step. They'd gotten about halfway down by now. "By the way... I guess I never did get your name," they admitted.

"I go by Napstablook," it replied softly. "Like the music-hosting platform... do you...... know it?"

"Yeah, I know it. Didn't they go bust?" they replied.

"Long time ago," he said.

"Wait... how do you know about that shit anyway?" asked Frisk suspiciously. "They actually have computers and stuff down here?"

Napstablook chuckled, an oddly ethereal sound that seemed to resonate in a way that it really shouldn't have been able to. "Not here at least... I haven't been able to find a single person here with a computer or any kind of connection to the wider Internet..."

"That sucks,” they said. “What OS?"

"Most are recycled from salvage..." he explained. "Most have Microsoft logos when booting... I think the Royal Scientist was working on her own last I heard..."

"We only had one computer where I'm from," Frisk replied. "Slow thing. But it could run some cool stuff. Provided nobody was looking," they added with a chuckle. The spectre flashed them a look that vaguely resembled confusion.

"We weren't supposed to play games on it," they explained.

"Oh," he said plaintively. "Listen to, um... any music on there?"

They shrugged. "Sometimes. I remember I heard this song once, I don't remember how. And it just... I dunno. It just hit me. 'Sea, Swallow Me'."

"Cocteau Twins," he hummed in vibrato.

"Yeah," they nodded, admittedly relieved by his familiarity with the subject. "I couldn't really make out the words, but yeah... it really got to me."

"The Moon and the Melodies," he recited. "It's a good one."

"If I find a way out of here, I'll check it out," they replied. The thought seemed unrealistic at this point so deep underground, though the words sounded believable enough.

"If you're... you know... passing through Waterfall... I have a place there," he offered. "I could play it for you..."

"Is that somewhere in the Ruins?" they asked.

He shook his head. "It's... pretty far from here."

They narrowed an eye. "What are you doing so far from home then?"

His phantasm of a form contorted oddly mid-air, and he mumbled something they couldn't make out.

"Never mind. It's not my business anyway," they admitted. "Sorry."

The pair lapsed back into silence. Frisk looked back out at the city, realising they'd almost made it to the bottom. The city stood tall above them, a big change compared to moments earlier when they had stood shoulders-high above it, looking down on the archaic civilisation.

"Guess we're here," they said. "It was, ah... good talking. Maybe I'll see you again some other time, yeah?"

The ghost seemed to smile a little. "Maybe..."

The wall opened up into a huge arch, the ground paved with a mixture of grey and lavender bricks, leading up to a huge stone gate entwined with metal and what looked like some kind of plant root, which had rapidly spread all across the surface, its green leaves practically covering the whole thing. They could hear the bustle of people within the city from here, and the distant splash of the fountain.

"I'm Frisk," they said without thinking. "You told me your name, but I never told you mine. It's... it's Frisk."

"Nice to meet you," he replied.

Frisk stepped onto the path, taking a few steps, before stopping. Turning around, they were saying, "Hey, look man, I—" before realising Napstablook was no longer there. They blinked, briefly scanning their surroundings for a trace of him — his ethereal humming, some ectoplasmic goop, something — before giving up. I guess he's gone.

Turning back to the gate, they made their way down the path and through the gate. Stepping into the city proper felt decidedly odd, like they'd entered an entirely different place in the world. The air around the city felt sharper and had more of a tingle when they breathed in than the air from the Ruins passages. There were a couple monsters out on the streets conversing or just going about their business, whatever it may have been. Now that they were at ground level, they realised whatever lustre the city once had, it had certainly lost over the years... or centuries. The buildings towered over them and were constructed of fine purple-tinged marble and stone, yes, but the foundations were cracked and the vibrant colours had faded away. Some buildings even had their entrances and windows blocked, and despite the impressive elegance of the ones that were still open, their tall spires were chipped and design flourishes were eroded to the point of illegibility.

Nothing I haven't seen before, they thought, a slight smirk creeping onto their face. They managed to suppress it, though they weren't sure why they bothered, since nobody was even paying attention to them. They looked up at the cave ceiling, littered with those luminescent crystals glittering like stars against the unrelenting blackness of the rock. Jets of water high above catching them and transforming into priceless jewels mid-air.

The fountain is probably at the centre of the city, they thought. I'll make my way there, figure things out as I go. Try and figure out where Toriel went. They groaned. Fuck. I should've asked that guy... Napstablook... if he'd seen her or knew where she might be.

They sighed, grumbling to themselves under their breath, partly out of their disappointment at forgetting the whole reason they'd even left the corridor Toriel had left them in in the first place, and partly because they couldn't put both hands in their pockets without probably cutting up their good hand on the crackhead weapon they'd picked up earlier.

Swinging their arms absently as they walked, they made their way past a few smallish buildings and one that resembled a block of apartments which looked mere weeks away from a foreclosure notice. They were a little surprised at the lack of signage on the buildings, but they supposed they were either taken when people moved on, or there just never was any to begin with. This is going to make things a little more difficult... They sighed. So much for hoping to keep a low profile. Guess I'll have to start asking around.

They rounded a corner, finding this street was a little more packed with monsters. They could vaguely make out that they resembled, in order — a vegetable, a one-eyed circle with legs, and a moth.

Approaching the group, arms held slightly outward in openness, they greeted, in a voice they didn't think sounded particularly authentic, "Hi there! Have you seen a monster goat, 'bout yay-high? Reeks of wine, and not the cheap kind."

The monsters, which had been conversing with each other just before Frisk's imposition, turned to look their way, except for the moth, which wasn't unexpected from what Frisk knew of Whimsun. The round monster, dressed in a leather bomber jacket, spiked wristbands and engineer boots remarked, in a cynical, New York greaser accent, "Keep your ass walkin' that way, fleshy."

Frisk rolled their eyes. "I'm not asking to be part of your after-school club, I'm just asking if you've seen her, yes or no," they replied with a sour note, matching the monster's.

The vegetable gave a bizarre cackle. "Fuck Off Buddy," it said, sounding more like a text-to-speech program than actual organic speech.

"Are you gonna give me an answer or will I have to beat it out of you?" they asked, half-serious.

The two exchanged looks, then looked back at the moth monster. It turned its head fully to look in Frisk's direction. Their stomach twisted a little bit when they realised it wasn't Whimsun. It was dressed in leather dusters and a ratty knit jumper. Chains adorned their coat from the sleeves, collar and over the shoulder.

"Salutations, fellow underclassman," they said, not switching from their sarcastic tone. "Would you happen to know where I might find this fine, upstanding alcoholic?"

The moth walked towards them until there was about a metre between the two. In a cold, quiet voice, the moth replied, "Don’t be asking any more questions. Get the hell outta here.”

Frisk took a step back, then two, holding their hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, I'm going," they said, trying not to sound like they were afraid. His goons snickered as they passed, and once the trio was out of their peripheral vision, they returned to their conversation. Frisk bit their lip, seething at the fact they let a bunch of street rats walk all over them like that, and for asking an innocent question too. Assholes.

Up ahead, they picked out a canine monster leaning against a broken pillar. He was dressed in a pinstriped suit with a matching fedora, smoking a cigar seemingly without a care in the world. They crossed over to his side of the street, and as they were walking past, they stopped, attempting to look casual. "Hey, uh, you, with the cigar," they said, "I'm trying to help out a vulnerable member of today's society. Goat, dresses in robes, probably inebriated. Seen her lately?"

"I mind my own business," he replied through a cloud of nicotine. "Suggest you do the same.”

"Whatever, Fedora," they replied. He indignantly called after them, "It's a trilby! There's a difference!"

Damn, I'm not getting anywhere, they thought. Maybe once I get to the centre, the locals will be a little less confrontational.

Continuing along the sidewalk, the tiles becoming more decrepit as they went along, moss even seeping out from between the deeper cracks. The damage just got worse and worse the longer they walked, as if the path was being eroded by their very presence. Up ahead, they could see two monsters, their bodies made of some sort of gelatinous substance in a humanoid shape. Both had identical wide, hourglass figures. They were both laughing girlishly at something, probably a makeup tutorial gone wrong or celebrity gossip scandal or something equally vapid. Frisk cleared their throat, sidling up to them and, in their best suave voice, said, "Hey shorty, say, could you help a player out? I'm tryna find this homegirl — way tall goat, rocks gang signs — know what I'm sayin'?"

The two both simultaneously blanked. They looked at each other for a full five seconds, then looked back at Frisk, having finally comprehended the intent of their words. The pair giggled in voices so shrill that Frisk's eyes squeezed shut involuntarily, wincing at the hideous sound.

"What a loser," said one.

"Like a total loser," the other agreed.

"We don't know anything," the first added.

"Like nothing at all," the second finished.

Frisk's attempt at playboy charm having failed, they immediately dropped the ghetto accent and corny smile, a scowl taking its place. "Fine." Then, in a voice loud enough (hopefully) for the slime girls to hear, "Curvy and attractive, but as usual, no brains."

They didn't wait around nor cup their ear to see if the pair had heard their scathing remark. The ambience of the fountain's water jets crashing and splashing was close now, and they could see an elaborate wrought iron and stone arch up ahead. They also noticed the buildings nearest to it were almost in perfect condition, and had obviously seen some respectable upkeep compared to the hovels they'd been surrounded by just moments prior. Once they'd gotten close to the arch, they could see the lettering 'Town Square' below the unintelligible wrought metal patterning.

The town square (ironically) was a wide, round plaza. The buildings were nicer and better-kept, any ageing had been well-hidden or gently encouraged forward for a tastefully-worn appearance. Even the apartment buildings had elegant baroque styling, which almost made you forget they were for all intents and purposes, concrete blocks designed to house as many as possible across the smallest amount of distance. There were many more monsters out in the town's centre, most simply walking, others chatting idly away with others, some haggling with vendors, ordering food or drinks, loitering. And standing against it all was the fountain, with intricate etchings in the marble base, the spray from the fountain's jets looking like crystal mist up close. The racket was pretty loud, though Frisk assumed it was hooked up to some kind of pressure valve that was adjusted depending on the time... however people told time down here.

If they have computers, I guess they also have regular clocks, they thought, watching the droplets of pure water reflecting off the gemstones embedded in the cave ceiling, sending beams of light that almost resembled shooting stars across the cavern. It really is a miracle their architecture isn't as ugly as their attitude. A half-smirk twitched in the corner of their mouth.

As they admired the water show the fountain was putting on, they felt something nudging up against their leg. They looked down, noticing a Froggit looking up at them expectantly.

Frisk rolled their eyes, waving it away. "What do you want? A hug or something? C'mon, beat it."

"Ribbit," it croaked. "Hello, human. I see you have reached our town square."

They had to do a double-take at that. Talking flowers, now talking frogs? They supposed they shouldn't have been so surprised, given they'd already witnessed the former, but it still surprised them. They chuckled, shaking their head. "Uhh... yeah, yeah I'm here now. Though for a town square, it’s pretty circular, don't you think?" they replied.

"Ribbit. I suppose," it conceded. "Follow me, ribbit. We should talk in another place.”

Their eyes narrowed at this. "Whoa, hold on. I only just met you, how do I know if I can trust you? Anyway, I'm only here to find someone. We got separated and... no, actually," they corrected, "it was more like... she left me behind and I... need to find her. She's guiding me."

God, could you have been any more stilted? Honestly...

The frog nodded its head. "Ribbit. It is the caretaker of whom you speak," it replied. "I do not know where she is. My brothers may know something. We should speak." The repetition of said suggestion unsettled them, but they supposed at the end of the day, a frog was a frog, even if it was a magical, talking frog. And if it was telling the truth and it did have even an idea of where Toriel might be, it was worth going. Otherwise they were going to be stuck wandering this city for a long time trying to find her.

"Alright, Frogger," they said, nodding their agreement. "I'll be right behind you.”

"Ribbit.” It turned on the spot, and then began to hop off towards the right side of the plaza. Frisk followed through the relatively light crowds, catching a few unsavoury glares their way and a couple whispers that weren't really whispers. They ignored it and focused their attention on the lone Froggit.

It led them out of the town square, but kept to the more affluent areas of the Ruins. They couldn't exactly blame the thing either, they hadn't exactly gotten any camaraderie from the gutter rats in the outskirts. Down the sidewalk and into a side street, through an alley and then up a stoop to a bright purple door with a brass knocker and marble statues guarding the entrance like a vault holding great treasures.

"Ribbit," the Froggit croaked. "It is I. I have the human of which you speak."

Frisk crossed their arms at this, feeling even more suspicious now, but they didn't say anything.

The door creaked open, swinging inward. Another Froggit stood in the doorway and upon seeing Frisk standing behind the other Froggit, it croaked in a pleased-sounding way. "Ribbit. So you have. Come in."

“Just wait," said Frisk apprehensively. "What do you guys want with me anyway? Surely you can give me an idea before I just... waltz in there, right?"

The Froggit paused, humming thoughtfully. "Ribbit. It is unimportant. What is more important is what my brothers and I can offer you."

"Information on Toriel, right?" they inferred. Froggit nodded.

Frisk still wasn't entirely comfortable with this arrangement despite their prior justifications to themselves about the meeting, but if these things could tell them where to find Toriel, or at least point them in the right direction, they couldn't exactly refuse.

"I'll hold you to that," they said. Froggit hopped inside and Frisk followed it across the threshold and into the dark apartment. All the curtains were drawn, the only light in the building coming from the many candles set up on the mantles, tables and some even on the hardwood floor.

"Ribbit, in here." The Froggit directed them to a room on the left. They followed, finding the only non-candle source of light in the whole building: some kind of lamp that sat in the centre of the room, surrounded — of course — by twenty billion candles. A group of Froggits all wearing black hoods were gathered around it. This ordinarily would've been an eerie scene, but the fact it was magical talking frog monsters doing this weird cult routine made Frisk give a relieved laugh, no longer concerned of any potential danger.

"Ribbit," greeted one of the Froggits. "You may not recognise me, human. But I met you alongside the caretaker in the Ruins passages."

"Huh. Good to see you, Kermit," they greeted. "Sorry about that puff not working out for you."

"Ribbit. It is what it is."

The group spread out a little and allowed another Froggit with a red hood to take the central position. Lowering its hood, revealing... yet another average Froggit, it spoke up in an uncharacteristically fluid, but ancient voice. "We see you, human. Come from the above-grounds to our world below-grounds. It is the caretaker of the Ruins passages you seek. The crownless queen.

"'Tis the Anura Ordo’s blessing to host you at our sacred gathering site," their leader croaked. "But O, misfortunate human! Heed the Ordo's warning! For the monster that you seek holds darkness within her soul! A liquid vice and bereavement twice threatens her morality whole!"

What the fuck is even happening right now?

"Howsoever thee walks the walk thou must, the Ordo warns! The Ordo begs of thee, caution must be exercised when facing insurmountable odds! Temptation and vice will ensnare one's very soul and twist one's fate in ways most unexpected! Nothing is to be taken for granted! Heed this warning, or suffer greatly on the road ahead!"

The leader bowed its head solemnly, and all the other Froggits followed suit. The red hood went back up, and it spoke slower and more calmly now. "A great calamity awaits us all. Mercy, mercy us, angel of death."

Frisk stepped back. "That’s terrible, but I just want to know where I can find Toriel.”

"Ribbit," from beside them. The Froggit that had led them here. "I heard she often visits the Ruins garden on the west side of the city."

"And you just happened to remember this after bringing me all the way here?” they deadpanned.

"Ribbit," Froggit replied.

They glared at the Froggit, annoyed that it showed no reaction to what they had thought was a gaze intense enough to rival Toriel's. "Anything else that you might have just suddenly remembered?" they asked sarcastically.

"Ribbit. She sometimes visits the tippling house in the town square," said Froggit. "She dresses up like she doesn't want to be recognised, but we all know it's her. We don't say anything. We're all too intimidated by her to do so."

Frisk pinched the bridge of their nose, groaning to themselves. "Right. Well, this was great. Thanks for the psychic reading, I guess. I hope it was a freebie because I don’t have any money right now. I’m gonna go.” They bowed somewhat exaggeratedly and then walked out of the room towards the exit at a socially-acceptable pace. Behind them the Froggits immediately broke into hushed chatter.

"Ribbit. Is the human gone?"

"Ribbit. Yes, they approach the gate."

"Ribbit! Let us indulge in the ancient smoke from the bowl of Anura!"

A chorus of croaking and ribbiting as Frisk stepped out into the Ruins' light, the door shutting automatically behind them, despite there not being much, if any wind at all.

I think... I just narrowly avoided initiation into an acid frog cult.

Stepping off the stoop to lean against the alley wall, they sighed, looking up to the 'sky'. So she drinks anti-socially and likes to garden. Or likes looking at gardens. That's not a lot, but it's enough to at least know where to look. But how to get there is gonna be more annoying.

Beginning to retrace their steps towards the plaza, they recalled the Froggit mentioning the tippling house was in the plaza and the garden was somewhere on the west side of the city. They didn't think the former would be particularly difficult to find, but the city was pretty sizeable and they didn't fancy having to trek all over the west side just to find one garden.

Looks like I'm gonna have to ask around. Again. Good thing I'm such a people person.

Back in the plaza, amongst the groups of monsters chatting and shopping, they felt more at ease than they had in that dark apartment, hearing the Froggit's prophetic visions. Buying, selling, consuming, speaking, hustling. They were used to it all. Even if the participants were of a race they hadn't dreamed even existed, it was still a familiar experience for them.

Maybe I should look for a building with a high frequency of monsters coming out the door face-first, they thought humorously.

It turned out they didn't need to wait too long, because as they were walking alongside the buildings, attempting to look inconspicuous, they encountered a monster sitting alone on a bench, mumbling nonsense to himself. He looked like he was made of fire, but there was not a trace of warmth radiating from his body, and was a bright green that smelled appropriately noxious.

Frisk stopped in front of him, wondering if he'd eventually notice them standing there. When he didn't, they sighed and clapped their hands loudly in front of his face. "Hey, wake up!" they barked.

His head ignited in a quick blast of flame as he jumped in his seat, looking around like a moron for what woke him up (or at least snapped him out of a daze) before finally noticing them. "The hell you want, kid? I'm... hic... tryna sleep here, alright? Go on and — hic — beat it."

He shooed them away and without waiting to see if they'd leave, started to settle back into slumber. They groaned and shook his shoulder. "Hey! Vagrant! I need to find a tippling house, you know one?"

"Tipplin'... the hell you talkin' about, kid?" the monster grumbled, shielding his eyes with an arm, clothed in a dirty and torn denim jacket.

"You know... for a tipple. A bar. Club. Lounge. Whatever you cave dwellers call it," they replied, tapping a boot impatiently.

"Shouldn't be drinkin'... kid," he replied, yawning halfway through his sentence.

They rolled their eyes. Right, because I’d take advice from a drunk.

Leaning in, placing a hand on his shoulder, covering their mouth with the other, they spoke in a lower voice, more conspiratorially. "I'm not drinking. I'm just looking for someone there. And even if I was, I won't tell." They had to admit, they were pleased that their smooth, even dare they say sultry 'I won't tell' was still most effective on monsters too. "I won't bother you again, it's just really urgent. You understand, right?"

He sighed, his flames dampening. "Alright, kid... whatever you — hic — say..." He gestured vaguely somewhere behind them to their left. Turning as he did, they could see a street that led away from the west side of the plaza. "Just on the corner is where I drink... sometimes every day..."

They nodded, trying to smile in a way that didn't look too contrived. "Gotcha. Thanks so much."

"Yeah, yeah..." he grumbled. "Just — hic — don't bother me again, kid..."

"Will do," they replied as he returned to his semi-comatose state, mumbling barely audible words that might've been words, but might also have been complete gobbledegook.

They made their way across the plaza to the building on the corner. It had a sign that had faded, much like most of the other buildings, but it had a smaller, makeshift sign that had been placed by the window, designating the establishment as the 'Ruination Tippling House'

Well, if that isn't some dramatic irony, they thought as they pushed the door open, the bell above the doorway ringing as they entered, already surveying the room. The floors were a rotten, ugly hardwood, the walls were a marble that had long since lost its lustre, and the bar's surface was smooth and well-kept, as would be expected of any establishment run by a purveyor of mind-numbing intoxicants. Every monster that had been either drinking or passed out with their head on the table had looked up and all eyes in the room were on Frisk now. They felt their body tighten a little, remembering they were in a room full of potentially hostile creatures that were also under the influence. Just be in and out, Frisk. In and out, they told themselves.

They slowly approached the bar, acutely aware of all the eyes watching their every move. They tried not to look back and catch them staring back. Sitting at one of the stools closest to the barkeep, they tried quietly to catch his attention. He was another animal-like monster with matted, grey fur and short, pointy ears. His eyes were catlike and wide open, like headlights cutting through a gloomy fog.

"I'm looking for someone," they said, hating the meekness in their voice. "A monster that comes here sometimes, dresses in robes. She doesn't talk much, probably orders wine—" they paused. "—red."

"Never seen her," the barkeep replied, without even turning around or offering any other form of acknowledgement besides his denial.

Frisk bit their lip. Running a hand anxiously through their messed-up hair, fingers snagging on a multitude of knots, they asked tentatively, "Would there be any way to... help you remember?"

The monster turned around. He came towards them, and Frisk realised how much taller he was compared to them. He looked down at them, and the wide-open eyes were now lidded halfway, his expression unreadable, besides a vague notion of disapproval. His long, spindly fingers that had been wiping down a glass reached out, tilting their chin up. Frisk swallowed, their mouth suddenly dry and lungs sucked of air.

The monster whispered, shaking his head ever-so-slightly, "I do not remember. And I do not take bribes."

Frisk broke away from his grip (which wasn't firm to begin with), looking at him out of the corner of their eye with a mixture of confusion and, as much as they hated it, fear. His expression hadn't changed at all. Unable to hold his gaze, they looked at the floor and shakily got off the stool. "I'm just..." they said, barely able to get the words out. "I'm just trying to find her."

"So you said," he said, already on the other side of the bar, drying another glass, as though he had never even moved.

Looking around the room, the walls were eyes, so many eyes, piercing them, ripping apart their fragile soul and pointing out their every flaw, they were a plaything of these creatures, another idle amusement. The air was chemicals imitating breathable air, the rotten wood creaking against their heels and echoing inside their head louder and louder

and sweet, damp air filled their lungs and brightness momentarily blinded them as the door shut behind them, bell ringing out in the plaza. Monsters' voices, the hiss of the fountain and their own stressed breathing. They didn't walk, but didn't run, down the west-side street, away from that place, away from it all. Into a side street, and onto a bench. For a moment, Frisk sat there, frozen in place, watching a few monsters walking past before hiding their face in their hands. A choked sob escaped into their hands before they swallowed again, silencing anything else inside. They tried to slow their breathing, and within a few minutes, they were able to breathe calmly again.

I need to find her, they thought. She's the only one who'll be able to help me.

They were debating on whether or not to try calling her again or to look for the garden first when their phone began vibrating in their pocket. They took it out and read the caller ID. It was Toriel.

They opened the phone, pressing it against their ear quickly. "Toriel! I—"

"This... may be out of the... blue... but do you prefer butterscotch... or cinnamon?" she asked.

They blinked. "Wh...? Do I like... I, ah... I don't know. Both?"

"...ah, I see. Thank you for... letting me know..."

"Wait wait wait wait, Toriel!" they snapped, sensing she was about to hang up the phone. "You live in the Ruins city, right?"

"On the... outside of the city," she said, sounding as though she was deep in thought, though not about her home location. "Passsst the... town square and, ah... at the end of the Ruins cavern..."

"How do you get there?" they asked, their attention entirely focused on her slurred and sluggish words.

"From the west side of the city.. out of theeee... gardens and out the gatesss... where... are you, chi—?"

"Thanks, Toriel," they said. "Talk to you soon." They hung up the phone before she could say anything else.

They didn't jump up out of their seat immediately to go and search for her home, but sat for a moment, processing the call. They shook their head, chuckling almost helplessly. First time she calls after abandoning me in a corridor, and it's ask me whether I like butterscotch or cinnamon. Oh man.

They stood up, stretching, wincing a little as their muscles strained and their magically-repaired bones creaked in response. They'd find the nearest monster and request directions out of the city and reunite with Toriel at her home.

She's not all there, is she?

They exited the side street the way they had come in and walked down the street, away from the noise of the plaza. They walked until they found another slime monster, this one more masculine and dressed in what looked like military fatigues and laced-up combat boots, and got his attention.

"'Scuse me, what's the fastest way out of this city?" they asked.

The monster put down the newspaper he had been reading, eyeing them up and down for a moment. "You're not gonna last long here," he replied, his voice thick and syrupy.

They rolled their eyes. "I know. That's why I'm asking."

He folded his arms, gelatinous biceps wiggling from even the smallest of adjustments. "Where to?"

Frisk barely held back a sigh of relief. "It's a house on the outskirts of the city. At the end of the cavern."

The monster went quiet. Looking back up at them, his beady eyes showed a hint of some emotion, though they couldn't precisely figure out what. "You tryin' to find the caretaker's house?"

They nodded quickly. "Yeah, that's it," they said. "I need to find her, she's the only way I can—"

"Look," he interrupted, "you're human. You ain't gonna be here long. If I listened to your sob story now, you know what that'd do to me? I'd only care when you’re gone." He uncrossed his arms, spreading his paper out again, flicking the page across. "Follow this street, take a right, then go left at the intersection. Gate out of the city will be at the end of the street."

Frisk blinked, momentarily confused by his response. Not the directions, which were crystal-clear. "Ah... sorry," they mumbled, feeling ashamed, though they couldn't explain why. "Thank you for the directions. You, ah... you were the first person to help me all day... other than, y'know—"

"Yeah, the caretaker," he replied. "Be careful."

Frisk nodded, looking down the street, suddenly feeling gloomier than it had just minutes before. "I will."

They started walking again, leaving the slime monster behind, head still buried in his paper. Their boots carried them down the street, past elegant two-storey houses with front stoops and temples and stores and empty, gutted buildings long since left to rot like the unseen marble urchins of the street. They made it to the intersection, which wasn't exactly a beehive of activity compared to the plaza, but had a few attractions that were drawing some small groups. A pop-up cafe in the centre of the crossing was selling baked goods made from spiders. A monster dressed in a torn and dirty jumper and scuffed fifth-hand Oxfords was speaking to a group of figures dressed in uniforms that resembled that of a convent's. Some stores they couldn't make out the nature of were closing up or opening on the street corners, they couldn't really tell which. Past everything, they could see another wrought-iron gate at the end of the street. They sighed, thanking the slime monster in their head once again, hurrying their way to the gate. They half-expected a voice to ring out, someone to try and stop them from leaving. But just as easily as they had walked in, they walked out, leaving the city behind, as if they'd never be remembered by anybody within. Not a single memory of them would remain, as if they'd never even existed in the first place.

A winding path through stalagmites and a few shacks that were either being used as stash-houses or just left to rot altogether led them to the cavern's end. A large, purple two-storey manor lay against the rock of the cave wall, flanked by large deciduous trees, fallen leaves scattered across the courtyard. Some vines were beginning to creep up the face of the building, snaking between the grooves in the bricks, slowly but surely making their way up to the roof.

Is this... really her house? they wondered. Leaves crunching under their boots, they walked up the front steps to the stoop, which was elegantly supported by two carved marble pillars that had faded heavily, appearing more grey than bright white. Seeing the brass door knocker, they took hold and tapped out a quick one-two-three, stepping back quickly on the third. They waited for maybe thirty seconds, counting each painful second like some form of sadistic edging, they stepped forward again, trying a more swing pattern, a one-two-three-four-one-two, waiting again. Nothing.

As they prepared to grab the knocker and bang out a real 'we have a warrant, open up' kind of one-two-three, they heard shuffling in what they presumed to be the hallway or foyer.

"...could be... at this tiiime..."

"Hello?" they called, now lightly rapping on the door with just a closed fist. The door clicked and then opened inward, and sure enough, in the glow from the warm light of the indoors stood Toriel, though she was dressed in a lavender evening dress and pale stockings now. She actually looked pretty good compared to her sodden appearance back in the Ruins. Still positively inebriated, but easier on the eyes.

"Toriel!" they cried, relieved, as they rushed through the door and into her. They wrapped their arms around her, burying their head in her chest. Even though their ribs were still fragile and their bruises still ached, they didn't care. They didn't know why they felt so compelled to hug her now after she had left them behind and called only once, but the fact they were here now seemed to trump any doubt that had been plaguing their mind before.

Toriel seemed confused by their sudden embrace, but giggled at a pleasant volume and put her arms around them, stroking their hair almost perfectly to the rhythm of their breathing. "My child, my child... you have come home..." she chanted, sounding almost euphoric as she said the words. "I was... wrong... to leave you... You should have remained by my side..."

Frisk laughed helplessly into the satin fabric of her dress. "I'm here now," they reassured her. "I'm... I'm glad to be here."

"As... am I," she affirmed. For a moment, Frisk just stood in her arms, almost hoping she'd break the hug for them. They didn't think they'd be able to do it themselves. Even though the door was open and cold air was blowing in from behind them into the warm house and the warmer breast of someone who cared, they couldn't break this contact, this primal connection. They wondered if they'd even been kissed goodbye.

Toriel gently motioned for the hug to end, and they accepted, thankful for her taking the initiative on this. "Please, come in... well, I suppose you already have," she added, giggling at her words as she closed the door, locking the knob lock and the two deadbolts. Frisk now took the opportunity to examine the entrance room. The walls were a warm beige colour, a marked contrast to the purple of the building's exterior, accented with brown skirting boards and dark, ancient wood furnishings adorning the room. An orange, cream and brown rug was spread out across the wooden floor (which felt firm beneath their boots and appeared varnished, though it, like most things in the Ruins, had faded somewhat) and a matching wooden railing guarded a set of stairs that presumably led to a basement, the top steps illuminated ever-so-slightly by a shell-shaped lamp mounted on the wall. A rather conservatively-designed chandelier lit the room with a warm cast, making the few sparse paintings hung on the walls appear almost glazed like a traditional oil masterpiece.

"Do you smell that?"

Frisk hadn't really been focusing on the smells of the house, rather the sights, so they sniffed, but didn't smell anything particularly noteworthy. They shrugged. "Ah... you mean your perfume?" they asked, somewhat obliviously. "It's, ah, nice. Is it, ah... pinot noir?"

Toriel's cheeks turned a red as deep as the wine they'd just named. She rubbed her bare arm, giving a sheepish giggle. "Hee-hee... how adorable, I could pinch your cheek!" she laughed, though sounding somewhat forced, as though the suggestion that she smelled like a high-end wine was embarrassing. Which Frisk could sort of see.

"Perhaps your... sense of smell is not as attuned as mine," she observed, touching a finger to her lips. "Well, I had wanted it to be a surprise, but... I am baking you a pie!"

Frisk perked up. "A pie? Like, uh... apple pie?"

"I know you said you were unsure whether you preferred butterscotch or cinnamon, so... I am baking you a butterscotch-cinnamon pie!"

Damn, actually...? Maybe I was wrong about her not being all there, they thought, smiling involuntarily. Must've just caught her on a wild day.

"That's, ah... that's really nice of you," they said, suddenly feeling humble. "You didn't have to."

"Nonsense!" she laughed. "If I am to look after you, it simply would not do if I did not ensure you were well-fed, no?"

They smiled, not really sure how to respond now.

"You must be exhausted," she said, tilting their chin in such a familiar way that it made them flinch away. Her brow furrowed in concern, and she sighed. "I should have been there... I should have been there..."

"Nobody did anything to me," they said quickly, though they didn't know why they even bothered lying. She had already shown a willingness to death-stare other monsters into submission and attacked a demonic flower beast to save them, after all. "It's fine. I'm just a bit shook up from the fall, I guess."

She didn't look like she entirely bought their excuse, but she didn't press the subject further. "Yes... yes, the fall was severe, no doubt... and the flower's interference only worsened your injuries. And all that trekking over the Ruins, you must be exhausted!" she repeated emphatically. Frisk shrugged, though they agreed with her assessment. It hadn't been apparent to them while wandering through the Ruins, but now that they were here, the tiredness was really setting in.

"Come, I will show you to your room," she insisted, holding out her hand.

Frisk blinked. "Huh? You set up a room for me?"

She looked away for a moment, a puzzling look crossing her face for just a split-second, long enough that they saw it, before she turned back to them with a pleasant smile in its place. "Of course! The room was not being used anyway, it was just... storage. It is all ready for you now."

A nice house, sweet pie and a warm bed? At this point, I would've been happy if she'd offered me the lounge, they thought. They found themselves nervously laughing out of nowhere. Toriel looked at them curiously.

"It's, ah... it's nothing," they insisted, trying to get a hold of themselves. "Nothing. I'm just, ah... flattered. That you went to all this trouble for me."

They reached out and took the hand that she had offered, and she led them down the west wing. There were three doors, Toriel stopping at the second. "This is it!" she said, smiling brightly. The door was a lacquered, deep oak wood with brass handles and four panels, that odd symbol carved in the middle. "Your room."

"Thank you," they said. "You, ah... don't mind if I just lie down in there now, right? I'm pretty tired."

She waved it away. "Not at all! You have been all over the Ruins today, goodness knows what else before then. All that adventure, your body needs to rest. I still have to tend to the pie, so if you need anything, please let me know. I am just down the hall, in the east wing."

She ruffled their hair, which they hated, but quietly accepted, and then walked off down the hall, leaving them with the door to their room for the night. Once she was out of sight, Frisk looked back at the door, reaching for the handle. Opening the door, they found the room to be already lit by a simple ceiling lampshade. The paint scheme was the same as the rest of the house, with a desk in the left-side corner, some stationery already placed there like it was a motel room. A large cabinet, likely holding clothes was pressed up against the far wall on the left side, a heavy wooden bed-frame on the opposite side, adorned with some cream pillows and an emerald bedspread. A basket of what looked like children's toys sat at the foot of the bed. Vaguely digging through them, they found a couple puzzle blocks, soft toys, and a skull pendant on a metal chain. They didn't think it looked like anything interesting, nor worth wearing, but as they held it in their hand, the voice they'd been trying to forget echoed in their head again.

* Remains of another are sealed within. The traces grant innate resilience against mana-based offence.

They flinched, looking around again, almost as if the source was going to be right there all of a sudden, but it was just them. Nobody else. Once more, they tried to rationalise the voice to themselves. You're hallucinating, they told themselves. You fell, you fucked up your head, Flowey poisoned you, you're tired and your body is exhausted.

They decided to hold onto the necklace though... just in case. Stuffing it in their pocket, they put the rest of the toys back in the basket. Ain't no Nintendo DS in there, that's for sure, they thought, forcing themselves to laugh and ease their anxiety even just a little.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, they pulled off their boots, then their cream woollen socks. They wiggled their toes, stiff joints cracking reassuringly. Laying their head against the pillow, they pulled their shirt over their head, then their shorts. They deposited them on the floor next to the nightstand. They figured Toriel had to have some way of cleaning clothes, and hopefully, people, too. They felt almost like they shouldn't even be sleeping in this perfectly-prepared bed with how filthy they felt.

You don't even know for sure you really somehow knew the names of all those monsters, you could've been wrong... Froggit, come on. Never figured out whether Whimsun was really that thing's name either.

They dimmed the lights and pulled the covers over their body, nestled up against the pillow. They sighed, their eyelids falling shut almost immediately. The scent of the pillow was fresh and made them think of what a springtime meadow must smell like. They wanted to go.

It's just... it's just exhaustion. You're just tired. Just get some sleep and you'll be fine. Don't think about it too much. Think about this bed instead... nicer than anything you've ever slept on, that's for sure.

After lying in bed for a while longer, the uncertainty left their mind and they were finally able to sleep.