Chapter Text
It was the dead of night when Frisk decided to sneak out of their house. The most obvious reason they chose that time was because their parents were less likely to notice, however there were more reasons than just that. The night had always been a time when Frisk felt more alive. Superficial things like the weather and the lighting contributed to their interest, however the most interesting thing for them was the sense of freedom.
They couldn’t quite explain why the night was so freeing. For as long as they could remember, it had been the best time for them. Many parts of their personality were inexplicable like that.
That feeling of freedom was not absent as Frisk sat on the edge of Mount Ebott, but it was twisted. The usual “freedom to do anything” had corrupted into “freedom to die.” It was equally freeing, but it came with a sharp pang in their stomach that could only be explained by anxiety.
Anxiety towards what, exactly? A good question. It was one that Frisk had turned over in their mind endlessly. Why would they be scared of getting what they wanted? Perhaps it was the fear of failing, and having to go back to their life in somehow even worse circumstances. Perhaps it was the fear of their consciousness extending into heaven or hell, both would be equally painful.
Frisk squeezed their eyes shut as tightly as their underdeveloped muscles could muster. They knew what they were doing – They were procrastinating.
They didn’t really want to die, but they sure as hell didn’t want to live.
Stop procrastinating. Get it over with.
Frisk pulled their body up into a standing position as their toes hovered over the edge of the cliff. They tried to take a step forward, but their mind wouldn’t let them. There was some form of mental block keeping them from doing the fatal action.
They sighed somewhat. They had read about this on those questionable forums they frequented. Our subconscious mind can keep us from pulling the trigger, keep us from stepping off the cliff. Some people recommended drugs to shut the ration down, but a 14-year-old couldn’t exactly get that, could they? Instead, they paid attention to the one piece of advice that was doable.
They didn’t think about killing themself. They didn’t think about the sensation of falling, the potential afterlife, or any of what may come. Instead, they just thought about taking a step. An average step, the type of step you might take into your house. Just a step.
They felt the sensation of falling, then it all went black.
When Frisk woke up, their first thought was that they must be in some sort of demented dream as their mind died, because they were looking up at an anthropomorphic goat.
At least, that’s what Frisk assumed she was. She was covered in white fur from head to toe, with long floppy ears extending almost to her shoulders. On top of that, she was wearing a purple robe with some strange symbol on it.
The goat seemed to notice Frisk had woken up. “Oh my goodness, you’re awake!” She adjusted the skirt of her dress before continuing. “You had quite the fall, but I patched you up and brought you here.”
Frisk looked around their surroundings further. They seemed to be in a living room, lying on a large armchair. It all seemed very human.
It was a nice living room, even if empty. All Frisk could see was the chair they were in, a table, a fireplace, and a bookshelf. Not even a TV. Did goats have TVs?
They ran their hands across the smooth fabric of the chair in order to wake themself up more. Once their attention had been regained, it all sunk in.
This wasn’t a dream. They had failed. Again.
Frisk looked at the goat, trying to accept that anthropomorphic creatures did, in fact, exist. “Where is here?”
“Oh, of course! These are the ruins, innocent one.”
The teenager had to stop themself from laughing at the goat referring to them as “innocent one.” They were a lot of things, but innocent wasn’t one of them.
How would you prefer to be described, then?
Frisk visibly startled at the voice. It definitely wasn’t their internal dialogue. Instead, it was feminine, young, and snarky.
The goat looked at Frisk. “My child, are you okay?” Frisk righted themself and nodded, hopefully convincingly. At Frisk’s reassurance, the goat continued. “I almost forgot to say! My name is Toriel, young one.”
With a grin, Frisk stood up. To their surprise, their leg didn’t give out, and they felt minimal pain. They intended to head towards their bedroom to get things figured out, but then they realized they didn’t have one.
“Do you have a place where I can sit and try to get my head together? I’m kind of confused.”
“Of course, my child!” Toriel nodded and grabbed Frisk’s hand as she led them to a nice looking bedroom. “A room of your own. I hope you like it.”
Frisk didn’t say a word as they walked over to their bed. The bed was red, the same hue as the walls and the majority of the room. It was comfortable, yet somewhat small for Frisk. They didn’t particularly mind, however, as long as their feet were hanging over the edge.Other than that, the bedroom was extremely standard.
Once Toriel was out of sight, Frisk got back up and shut the wooden door before getting to business. “Okay, who the fuck are you.” They were far too aware they sounded somewhat nuts, but they had clearly heard a voice, and being possessed wouldn’t be the craziest thing today.
Okay, maybe it would be, but it would be a difficult competition.
You can call me Chara.
“Okay then, Chara, mind explaining to me why I can hear you?”
You think I know? Last thing I remember is dying, and suddenly I’m in your mind. I’m not happy about it either.
Frisk put their head in their hands and let out a sigh. “Okay, so this is a predicament. I guess you should know my name’s Frisk.”
The swing of the door cut off whatever Chara was about to say, if anything at all. Frisk jumped at the noise, but calmed somewhat when they saw Toriel at the door. “You do not have any allergies, do you?”
Frisk shook their head as Toriel replied “good. In that case, I have baked a pie for you. It is cinnamon butterscotch, I hope you like it.”
Toriel’s paw engulfed Frisk’s hand. The smell of the pie was almost enough to distract them from everything.
Almost.
Of course, it was not enough. Frisk was still trying to unpack everything with Chara, Toriel, and where they were. The emotional baggage from another failed suicide attempt would have to come later. Preferably when they were alone and had access to sharp objects.
As of now, Frisk’s plan was to try again and finish what they started.
That’s a bad plan.
“No one fucking asked you,” Frisk whispered quietly enough that Toriel wouldn’t hear but loud enough for Chara to get the message.
You know, I have to deal with this body too.
Frisk opted to ignore her, and instead turned to Toriel. “Out of curiosity, is there a way out of the ruins?”
The oven and Toriel seemed to be engaged in a staring contest. “Would you like a bite of pie, sweetie?”
“Toriel, did you hear me? I asked how to exit the ruins.” Frisk tilted their head a bit.
“Here you go, my child.” Toriel handed a warm saran-wrapped slice of pie to Frisk. It looked delicious, but Frisk refused to be distracted.
With a firm tone, Frisk once again asked how to exit the ruins. Toriel did not simply change the subject again, but muttered that she had something to do before disappearing down the stairs.
Frisk knew they had to follow her, of course. But first, they grabbed what seemed to be the sharpest knife in Toriel’s house and tucked it into the small of their back.
Not to hurt Toriel, of course. Frisk wasn’t too keen to the thought of hurting anyone except themself. Most people would assume the worst if they saw the teen carrying a sharp knife, so Frisk made sure that it was secure against their back.
It wasn’t particularly odd. It looked like a standard kitchen knife, save for the engraving that matched Toriel’s robe. Frisk pulled the knife out and pressed their index finger against it, testing it. When their skin threatened to split and their nerves lit up after only moderate amounts of pressure, Frisk concluded that the blade was sufficient and tucked it back.
Frisk took a single deep breath in order to combat the pang in their stomach before they followed the motherly goat. Their descent down the stairs seemed to drag on forever.
Toriel’s figure had lost the welcoming warmth it once possessed. Instead, the light usually in Toriel’s eyes had disappeared, leaving a creature of mourning.
Toriel’s soft voice echoed across the chamber. “You want to return ‘home,’ do you not? Ahead of us lies the end of the ruins. A one-way exit to the rest of the underground.”
“I don’t want to leave permanently, but I want to see what else there is.” Frisk tried to keep their voice level, however they doubted they were successful.
“If you leave, you can not return. Now I will destroy the exit, and no one can ever leave again. Now be a good child and go upstairs.”
With a long breath inwards, Frisk stood their ground.
When Toriel acknowledged that Frisk wasn’t leaving, the volume of her voice raised somewhat. “Every human that falls down here meets the same fate. I have seen it again and again.” Toriel’s head lowered slightly at that, a change barely noticeable. “They come. They leave. They die.”
Frisk felt their face heating up, even if only slightly. All their life they had been treated like an incompetent, defenseless child, and it never failed to make them feel like shit. “I can take care of myself.”
“My child, I can not fight you. If you want to leave so badly… I will not stop you. But if you do, you can not come back,” she said with a sigh. “I hope you understand.”
Frisk bit their lip the slightest bit and kicked their feet against the dirt of the tunnel. “I understand.”
Toriel stepped forwards and engulfed Frisk in an awkward hug. Saying no more, she went back into her house, dragging her feet in the process.
The door Frisk prepared to exit was a deep purple wood with the same symbol as seen on Toriel’s robe and Frisk’s knife. The metal handle had the weight of Frisk’s uncertainty added to it, yet they managed to get it open and were hit with a burst of cold air.
A small crunch sounded as the snow packed beneath Frisk’s feet. They were very far from comfortable as the wind seemed to stab through their face and neck, but they didn’t dare seek shelter in the ruins they just left.
They thought they saw some glint in the bush to the left and swiveled around to examine the item. Chara, of course, quickly voiced her thoughts on the matter. There’s a camera in the bushes, what the fuck?
More than a little creeped out, they continued through the cold for what felt like hours, hoping they were going in the right direction. Just as they were starting to regret leaving the ruins, a second pair of footsteps caused them to flinch very visibly.
Frisk swiveled around to see a figure silhouetted against the snowy backdrop.
“Human.”
“Don’t you know how to greet a new pal?”