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Panes of snow crepe the grass like fine china. Paper-pale clouds frost the sky. Carol’s hooves clack against ice-bitten pavement, breath cinched high in her throat, chin tilted heavenwards.
Yes, yes; it’s one of those days where Toriel thrums inside her chest like an untapped landmine. Just around the corner, anywhere, the chances of Carol running into her hang in the air like a lynching. It poaches her nice and thorough—even as she waves hello to the townsfolk, even as she nudges up her glasses with the finesse of someone in high society, she needs to go to the grocery store, and.
So does Toriel.
Fuck.
She overheard it on accident. Toriel’s voice clear and warm over the phone: “Oh, yes, Noelle, Kris is free tomorrow, I just have to drop by that new grocery st—“
She’s not about to worry herself into a tizzy over some frivolous coincidence. Carol needs milk, Toriel needs—groceries, probably, and there will be minimal small talk and she will be refined and mannerly and—
She pushes open the door. The bell jangles. A skeleton and a goat share puns over counter. That leaves Carol dumbstruck in the doorway; not even a day since that man moved in and Ms. Dreemurr’s already in his favor. Just. Chattering like swallows to each other, uncaring of witnesses. Like those days when Toriel cocooned her arms around Carol’s waist, murmured kisses into her jaw, called her silly and pretty and just her favorite doe, you!
Oh, Rudy will guffaw himself out of his head… if his respiratory issues allow for it. Damn that deer.
Holiday Family Ninja Style, she tells herself as she inches to the end of the aisle. She just needs to get to the freezer, and it’s smooth sleighing from then on.
She scrubs her glasses of frost. Water melts into her fingertips, probably contaminated by the nearby plant… so much for a quaint small town. Ah, well, at least the children remain oblivious.
A couple strained pulses of her lungs, and… aha! She plunges open the freezer, bathed in the glory of its cool gusts.
And that’s when Toriel’s head snaps toward her. Her features light up like a stoked flame, a grin breaking through her already crinkled eyes. “Carol! Oh, what a pleasant surprise it is to see you—I was just catching up with the cashier.”
”yup.” The man says something else—something inane, probably, judging by that ridiculous grin wedged into his skull.
”Hee hee, there is no need to flatter me…” Gosh darn her jingle bells—that laugh… it carbonates in her chest like the cursed wine from last night. The wine that made her—
“So, Carol!” she chimes, “What brings you here? I was just gathering some ingredients for tonight’s supper.”
Well darn if she isn’t chipper.
Carol nods, shoulders squared and hands clasped at the hem of her waistcoat. “I was purchasing a new milk carton.”
”Oh, spectacular. You know, I must mention,” she takes a step forward, oh no, oh nononono, “your suit is looking rather… dashing today.”
Carol’s mouth opens, shuts, opens, shuts. Finally, “Faha. Well, this one’s, hm…” close, too close, those eyes, “one of my finely tailored ones. So I understand why…”
“Oh, dear. Carol, your—hee hee. Your tie is quite loose.” Toriel’s fingers notch into the fabric. Carol swallows. So. So. Close.
Toriel leans just that bit closer, and—
Thats when Carol wakes, body sprawled over her couch, darkness wearing her down to a thread. Sleep crusts her eyelashes, and Toriel’s absence shudders through her like an unlit fireplace. A wine glass lays on its side, sticky on the floor.