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Darkness fades to light, and Moray finds themselves in an unfamiliar place.
Vines coat the walls, holding them in a suffocating grip. They layer the floor, and there seems to be no ceiling. The top of the room — if they can even call it that — simply fades into nothingness, forming a clean edge to an otherwise messy situation.
There’s an uneasy feeling creeping up the Aquatic’s spine, a shiver that persists for longer than it should. Something isn’t right, they’re sure of it. But… what? They take a hesitant step forward, nearly tripping due to the uneven floor. The flora beneath them seems to actively shift like a restless beast. It doesn’t help to ease their fears.
They look around the area, trying to gather some hint to where they might be. They don’t find anything. It’s just… vines, as far as their eyes can see. Only vines, and the darkness that stares back at them. With a shake of their head, they press ahead, attempting to keep any doubts away. It’s difficult, with how many doubts there actually are.
Carefully, Moray walks through the plant-infested room. They don’t know where they are, or where this hall might lead; they disregard that, hoping for the best. There must be an ending to this, right? They repeat that in their head over and over again.
There’s an ending, they tell themselves. There’s an ending, there has to be… They try holding onto their small candle of hope, keeping it away from despair’s shadowy breath. To their dismay, their flame diminishes. Slowly, discreetly, their hope is extinguished. When it’s doused entirely—
They can’t hold back the scream that graces their lips. What’s happening? What even happened? In a panic, they look down at themselves. Vines have ensnared their legs, and are quickly winding up to their torso. The feeling is strangling, almost claustrophobic. They try moving away, a desperate cry for freedom, but the greenery makes sure that they have no escape. Their breath catches in their throat. They’re trapped, tethered to the floor. Of course they are — they’re always too kind, too trusting! They are a fool to think they are safe, to hope for the best!
The flora reaches upward, coiling through the air like a snake about to strike. They grip Moray’s arms tightly, almost squeezing the life out of them. The fear of suddenly being amputated comes to mind, and their thrashing increases. Their SOUL pounds, adrenaline rising as they try to come up with an escape in time. Their mind is screaming about the danger they’re in, alarms blaring in their head.
Time is a precious material, and they didn’t have enough. They are bound, restricted from all movement. They stare in horror as a vine slowly advances upward, the action menacing and sending a strike of fear through them.
They could only watch in pure unadulterated fright as it pierced through their SOUL.
Moray shot awake with a scream, back and forehead drenched in their own sweat. The Swelterstone’s heated rays filtered through the window, the sight jarring to their panicked eyes. Just a nightmare… again.
They dropped their head in their hands, letting out a sigh. Their frills drooped in fear, quivering slightly due to the aftermath of the dream. This was the second one this week… They weren’t sure what the cause was, and it worried them.
…Oh, who were they kidding? They knew exactly what it was.
A while back, the sheriff of their town had gone missing. As a part of Starlo’s posse, they felt lost without their leader. Everyone in the Wild East felt lost without him. The last time they saw him was when they fought, when they resigned from the Feisty Five in protest to Star’s favoritism-induced actions. Boy, did they regret that now. They were the last to leave, they could’ve helped him work things out… They could’ve made him see how unfair he was being.
The last person to have seen him was a small human child — a little cowpoke by the name of Clover. They were the one Starlo had spoiled with gifts, but Moray was still fond of the poor thing. They were pretty young and had traversed this part of Underground? Moray could only imagine the danger they had to face after falling from the Surface. Of course, by now their SOUL had been taken by the King for his plan to break the Barrier… They would always remember that glow of the child’s heart, a shimmering yellow that emanated justice and righteousness.
After they left Star’s posse, they never saw him or the human child again. Starlo was deemed missing, his poster pasted to the bulletin board. A pang went through Moray’s SOUL every time they saw it. Starlo wasn’t supposed to be gone like this.
Moray dragged themselves out of their sleeping bag, already starting to dread the coming days. Every hour that passed was another one without their leader. They noticed that the house was empty, save for them. Everyone else was probably at the Saloon again, trying to figure out what to make of this terrible situation. As much as they liked the trips there, they had to remind themselves — and the rest of their friends — that drinking this often would result in addiction problems.
They got out of their night clothes, preparing to get ready for the day. Despite the absence of their sheriff’s vibrant personality, they couldn’t use that as an excuse to stay inside. But they had to admit, it was strange waking up so late. Usually, Star would wake everyone up at the same time every day. He’d start the day off right…
Once fully prepped, Moray found themselves hesitating before exiting their living space. No matter how many times they knew they had to move on in some way, their mind always rejected the idea. It’s not the same, and it’s never going to be the same again, Moray, they chided. They needed to get a grip on themselves.
They pushed down on the handle, swinging open the door. The heat of the Wild East flew into their face, and they immediately started to sweat. Angels above… They were about to step out, but a high-pitched voice stopped them before they could exit completely.
“Howdy!” the voice chirped. “Down here, silly!”
Moray followed the mysterious voice’s ask, glancing downwards at the dirt path in front of their house. A small golden flower stood there, its petals lush and unfurled. …Why was it talking? To them? Were they hallucinating?
“Golly, you must be so confused, huh?” the flower exclaimed. “I oughta tell you why I’m here!” It winked with a slight, peppy giggle.
Moray found themselves walking closer to the small plant, intrigued by the sight. They sat on the steps of their porch, looking at the flower with a curious expression. “That’d be appreciated,” they mumbled, voice laced with cautious uncertainty. They weren’t sure if the floret they were seeing was real, but it was starting to become more lucid by the second.
“For starters, I’m Flowey!” he said brightly. “Flowey the Flower! I was a friend of your little human buddy. You know, Clover? Short, cowboy hat, wields a revolver, whose face is always like this?” He then made a face with a blank stare, the ultimate neutral expression. Yeah, that was the right Clover.
When Moray nodded upon hearing the description of the human, Flowey went on. “Last I checked, they got into a pretty bad fight with that sheriff of yours,” he recalled. “I dunno the details, but I haven’t seen that gunslinger around since!” Was he implying that Clover had… killed Starlo? Moray thought that Flowey was being a bit too lighthearted about the predicament, but maybe he was just trying to make the best of it. There had been theories, after all…
“I haven’t either…” they replied, brushing their violet bangs back. “It’s worrying, really. No one knows where Star is or where he could’ve gone.”
“Well, what if I told you” — Flowey descended into the ground and popped up closer to Moray — “that I knew where he was?” A soft, but almost smug, smile creeped onto the flower’s face.
The Aquatic perked up at his revelation, their frills shooting up in surprise. He knew where Starlo was? How? “Y-You know where he is?” they asked, nearly stumbling over their words. “I— Wha— Where is he?” They couldn’t repress the urgency in their voice. Star had been gone for two weeks, and so many questions had been left unanswered.
What happened to him? Why’d he run away? Is he all right? Is he hurt? Where is he, and why would he give us such a scare? Was he even in his right mind?!
“Now, now, calm down, will ya?” Flowey requested, looking slightly amused. “No need to get all worked up, pal! Hehe!”
“Right, right.” Moray took a quick breath in, which only settled some of their nerves. “Sorry. Um— So, about where he is…?”
“I haven’t checked it out myself, but I got a li’l feeling that he’s hiding out in the Steamworks,” Flowey reported. “It’s an old, abandoned place, though; I dunno why he’d ever go there.”
“The Steamworks…” Moray repeated. The factory used to be the powerhouse of the Underground, producing energy left and right. Once the CORE was built in Hotland, the plant was shut down and left behind. They were starting to question the legitimacy of the little flower’s words, but it was all they had. “I’ll check it out,” they reported.
Standing up, they dusted themselves off, careful not to step on their newfound acquaintance. “Thank you, Flowey,” they said. “I mean it.”
“No problem, Moray!” he beamed. “Good luck! You’ll need it.” And with that, he was gone. Strange, how he knew their name. Did they ever say it when talking to him?
That didn’t matter anymore. It was just a silly detail, that’s all. What mattered was finding Starlo.
I’m coming, starslinger.
Going through the Steamworks alone wasn’t a very pleasurable experience. The halls were empty and barren, the sickeningly-sweet aroma of old, rusting machinery was stuck in the air, and it was overall… eerie. All of it gave Moray a bad feeling, an echo of apprehension ringing in their mind and warning them about whatever would come. Even if they were barely past the entrance, only at the lobby, that feeling had no intention of subsiding.
Oddly enough, there were no stray robots wandering around. As useful as it was to quicken their journey, it was a persistent reminder that they were unaccompanied. They were used to traveling in a large group, thanks to Starlo always leading their posse on new adventures and missions. Ed, Ace, Mooch… All of them followed one another; not one would be left solo.
Moray considered themselves lucky that Clover had turned on the power here; they didn’t want to go through the hassle. With the power on and the child… gone, for no better way to put it, Moray was free to walk as they pleased.
Past the generators was only the beginning of the lava lake that spanned under the entire facility. The air here was hot and oppressive, and it was quickly getting uncomfortable due to their Aquatic lineage. They were used to the blazing weather that spanned over the Dunes and the Wild East, but here? Goodness, they were starting to regret going out in their armor…
It was too late to turn back, though. Plus, this wasn’t about them. They had come here for Starlo, and that’s how it should stay.
The molten rock below cast a gentle pink glow over everything in sight, of which Moray could appreciate. Discarded machinery and cogs floated aimlessly in place, their lava-proof quality keeping them from melting. The Aquatic walked along the old, metallic pathway, surprised that it was still holding up after this long. Their footsteps echoed in a staccato-like rhythm, and their trusted rapier softly thumped alongside it.
They looked ahead from where they were walking, and was met with a large sign, only partially dipped in the magenta substance beneath them. Steamworks, it read, its lights flickering every so often. Its stray wires buzzed and sparked, excess electricity flying off at random intervals. It must’ve fallen from the ceiling a while back, what a shame… This place really was in disarray.
After a flight of stairs, past numerous empty halls, and one broken ID-verification door — they had reached the rest of the extended lake. The cerise glow was even more prominent here, the heat only growing hotter. Moray wiped their forehead with the back of their hand, their hair coated in more sweat than it was this morning. Dear Angels, the heat was unbearable…
The only way to cross the lake, they noted, was a device that resembled a manta ray. Even if the industry was left behind, they trusted the durability of the equipment. Hesitantly, they stepped onto the mechanism, and a joystick arose from an opening in the vehicle. Moray easily got the idea of how to control it, and was thankful for this way of getting around.
They watched as the area glided by, the speed of the carrier fast enough to get around yet slow enough to sightsee. …Although, there was nothing much to see other than dilapidated pillars whose use Moray was unsure of. They moved the joystick left twice, up, left again, up again, then left two more times until the automobile docked at a platform. Using their rusty knowledge of the Steamworks’ layout, they assumed they were in the right place.
They stepped off of their ride, looking at the dark-colored, broken-down office building ahead. To think that, not even two years ago, the Steamworks was once a marvelous site, full of life and brimming with energy. They entered the threshold, the door held open for someone who wasn’t there.
They passed through more winding hallways, occasionally stopping to check behind a closed door. There was a distant bleach-like scent that wasn’t there before, and it gave the area a soft, poisonous tint. They exhaled a breath, continuing the trek through the building. They stepped over some fallen chunks of a wall, careful not to injure themselves or rip any part of their outfit. The floor had given out around corners and edges, revealing the bubbling lava underneath. Not wanting to meet their demise, Moray made sure to stay wary to not accidentally fall through.
Eventually, after walking through an extremely long hallway — What was the point of that? they wondered — they had arrived at the Commons. The run-down speakers were echoing a calming melody, though it came off as unsettling due to the quality of the audio. It was a nice break from their heated expedition, and they needed a rest. Moray practically collapsed into a nearby chair, letting out a sigh they didn’t know was in them. They couldn’t take too long to relax, however. Starlo was waiting.
Why is he even this far in the Steamworks? Moray asked themselves. It’s been two weeks since he’s left, why would he hide somewhere so far from the entrance? And how would he even survive here, for that long? The dots suddenly started connecting, a grim realization dawning upon their conscience. Had they been sent on a wild goose chase, tricked by their desperation to find their friend and leader?
The thought made another sigh grace their lips, this time out of resignation rather than relief. Maybe they were too quick to trust Flowey. Then again, they had always been quick to trust everyone until they realized they couldn’t. They were even farther from the entrance than last time, even farther from the Wild East. If turning back was an offer, they had declined it long ago.
They stood up from their chair, which softly creaked from the loss in weight. If they dwelled on their worries for too long, they’d get discouraged. And when they were so close to the Greenhouse — if they could recall correctly — encouragement was all they needed. If Starlo wasn’t there… then this mission was all for naught.
At last, they had reached the Greenhouse.
The stench of bleach was stronger than ever; it was assaulting their senses and making them recoil. Pale grass slipped through cracks in the glass door, the latter shattered and taken over by plants. Achromatic vines had made their way through windows, hanging over the edge and intertwining with stray shards. It was a haunting sight, seeing the colorless foliage cover everything like a plague.
Moray took a shuddering breath in, their left foot tapping nervously. They needed to move on, for Starlo might be right past those doors. They were desperate to find him, and this was the first chance they had in weeks. All they needed was to walk through those doors.
And that is what they did.
The open doors caused a slight breeze to stir, sending a flurry of particles and fallen petals into the air. The smell nearly caused them to faint, it was so strong that it was starting to mess with their resilience. Moray brought the collar of their shirt to their mouth and nose, trying to filter out some semblance of oxygen.
Almost everything in here was covered in plant life. It was a soft blanket of snow amidst a scorching land. Robots, whose batteries were depleted long ago, had vines and flowers sprouting from their mechanical corpses. There was a stone fountain in the center of the entrance, its once-stable foundation cracked, and rushing water dried up. Smaller bits of debris were discarded nearby; the seedlings were already planning their takeover. Moray feared that they were entering something they shouldn’t have, like a graveyard haunted by those buried under. Tulips and roses grew in patches, some even twirling around each other in a solemn dance.
Despite all of the decrepit signs around them, they kept moving on. They treaded lightly, not wanting to create any more disturbance than they already had. More ghostly greenery hung from the ceiling, latching onto the metal support beams lining the walls. The windows were clouded with condensation, moss sprouting at the edges like makeshift insulation. Shelves stood their ground nearby, using the invading plants as a support to stay standing. Vials and small planters lined the ledges in neat rows, the flora inside already overgrown.
Angels, this whole place was giving Moray the creeps. Their trust in Flowey was starting to waver…
That is, until a soft rustling noise echoed from nearby.
Moray heard the sound instantly, frills flicking in curious anticipation. Had that been their mind playing tricks on them, or was that the real deal? They paused, listening closer and begging to hear that sound again.
And it was heard again, slightly louder than before. They could hear the sound clearer now — it sounded like… slithering? Like the whisper of leaves as the wind hurried past them. Speaking of whispers, they heard those too. It was a hushed cacophony, filled with overlapping breaths and mumbles.
Moray stepped back, removing their shirt from their face. Their right hand reached for their rapier, preparing for any sort of threat. But in the back of their mind, there was a whisper of their own. Put your weapon away, Moray, it crooned. What if that’s Starlo? Engaging in battle doesn’t sound like the best welcome, does it? They hesitated, taking a short while to process the voice in their head. Sheathing their sword, was that really the right choice?
The short while was too short for Moray’s liking, and their perceived enemy finally turned the corner.
Oh, did it lend the Aquatic a few measures of panic.
Flowey wasn’t lying, which was the only upside of their dilemma, for Starlo was here. …It sure didn’t look like Starlo. His poncho — once pristine and sewed to perfection — had rips and tears scattered all over, with golden flowers bursting from the inside. His hat got the same treatment, but with a cyan echo flower perched on top; his pants were bound with dark green vines. The soles of his boots were sprinkled with dust and powdered magic; Moray couldn’t help but think that was his— Moray hoped it wasn’t his. His hands were no longer hands, but sharp claws made and marked by foliage. They had sliced through his gloves, which used to be thick and perfect for any tough task.
But the worst sight was his face. His bright, jubilant eyes were now obscured by layers upon layers of plant life, with only one orb visible. It wasn’t even the one they remembered so clearly — it was sharp with a white sclera, and held a striking black pupil that extended into the void around his face. The darkness was slowly spreading, a rotting substance that stretched across the upper right quarter of his features. Sadly, that did include his star-like rays, which used to flick and light up with all sorts of expressions. Now, they were stationary, not even moving with the sound of his “breath.”
“I recognize you.” “Leave at once.” “Danger, danger, run away…” “Don’t come closer.” “Who are you?” “You’re familiar…” “I don’t know you.” So many whispers were projected through that angel-forsaken echo flower, spewing out thoughts like bullets from a revolver. Some contradicted others, and his disorganized ideas echoing off the walls were the final notes of a discordant song.
Moray simply stared in shock. How could this be? This had to be a joke, a sick and elaborate prank that they had easily fallen for. “…Starlo?” they called, uncertainty highlighted in their tone.
The corrupted sheriff paused, his eye dilated. The vines around his broken form shifted rapidly, an animalistic growl rumbling from his strangled throat. “Who’s that?” “That’s me.” “How do you know that?” “Who are you really, huh?!” “Please, tell me who that is.” “I’m so confused…” “It hurts…”
The Aquatic’s rapier was still held, and they turned to it in a feeble attempt to appear threatening. “D-Don’t come any closer,” they hissed, their voice wavering with trepidation. They hated talking like this. Confrontation was never their strong suit. Their hand trembled, but their grip on their weapon was strong.
The fallen starbeing hissed upon seeing the sword, the vines along his back perking up in defense. Oh, Moray had it out for them now… “Danger!” “A weapon?” “You’re going to hurt me.” “Please don’t hurt me.” “Stay back!” “Run away!”
“I won’t regret this.” Vines grew on all sides, seemingly coming from Starlo and — by extent — being controlled by him.
Moray let out a yelp, summoning two spheres of energy to keep them off the ground. They stabbed through the vines threatening to pierce them, all logic funding their battle skills. Hovering in the air, they swayed left and right, narrowly avoiding Starlo’s assault. As if it would do anything, they called out to their leader. “Starlo, stop!” they cried, their voice cracking with despair. “This isn’t like you!”
The vines retracted, seed-like bullets taking their place. One by one, they shot at the Aquatic, and it was up to their will to defend themselves. “You don’t know who I am.” “It’s not?” “Who am I…?” “You’re lying.” “I know who I am.” “Stop yelling at me!” Starlo let out another guttural growl, the vines around his body shifting faster than ever.
Moray did all they could to block Star’s attacks. They made a shield with their energy, using it alongside their rapier to bounce his own arsenal back at him. Their main focus was protecting themselves, but they couldn’t stop the pangs of sympathy every time Starlo had been hit. They could hear his hisses of pain, and they could feel his attacks grow stronger.
Their makeshift shield eventually broke, providing Moray with their own serving of magic-inflicted wounds. The action was sudden and their resolve faltered; they let out a sharp curse knowing they had been hit. Dust was pooling from their injuries, dripping down their forearm. The spheres that had supported them wavered, nearly making them lose their balance. With a sharp exhale, they rushed toward Starlo, preparing an attack of their own.
It was a cruel and twisted action, stabbing their former sheriff right where his SOUL would be. They were still above ground, hovering high enough to stay away from the ground. As they pierced through the vines covering Starlo’s body, they saw something in his eye. Betrayal, hurt, and disbelief swirled in a concoction of disconcertment. Essence-filled sap pooled from the wound they inflicted, and they felt their SOUL clench in their chest.
They couldn’t pull away and celebrate, however.
Just like in their nightmare, vines immediately wrapped around their legs as Starlo recoiled in pain. “What did you do to me?” “How could you!” “Traitor.” “Make it stop…” “You stabbed me!” “Backstabber.” Vines and golden flowers quickly filled the gap where he was hit. There were no signs of him about to dust. Was there no SOUL inside him? Or had Moray missed?
No matter the case, their disadvantages became clear. Their magical supports cracked and soon vanished, crushed by the strangling grip of Star’s greenery. More vines began spreading up their legs, and a feeling of déjà vu was beginning to settle in. Panic was making its way beside it, taking over their senses and causing them to thrash around. “Nonono— Starlo! Snap out of it!” they yelled, efforts to escape in vain. “I didn’t mean to! I-I’m not trying to kill you, I swear on it! Think about this!”
Starlo didn’t seem like he was in the mood for listening. His monstrous hands wedged the rapier out of his chest, and he tossed it aside distastefully. “You stabbed me!” “How could you!” “I thought I could trust you.” “Never do that again.” “You should’ve ran.” “You could’ve saved yourself.” “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” The plants around Moray’s physique continued to coil upwards, slowly but surely binding them to the floor.
Their arms were being forced to their sides, the vines already reaching their torso. They were tethered to the floor, trapped and at the mercy of the broken being in front of them. They couldn’t fight back, and they could barely move without thorns digging into the flesh between their scales. The smaller puncture wounds were quickly creating new trickles of dust, which ultimately poured onto their vines and their constraints. If they couldn’t attack or move at all… their only option was talking.
“Starlo, come on,” they pleaded, wincing as the flora squeezed around them. “Don’t you remember me? Or us, for that matter?” Their voice was strained, and they knew that these attempts were probably worthless. But it was the only thing they had. Their SOUL was still pumping adrenaline through their body, their chest and body taut. “You didn’t forget about me, right?”
Something seemed to click inside that corrupted mind of Starlo’s, as Moray’s restraints loosened ever-so-slightly. “Us?” “I remember you.” “I don’t want to remember.” “It all hurts so much.” “Forget?” “I want to forget.” “I want to remember…” “Shut up.” He stared at them, rays twitching a bit. The movements were strained, also locked behind rows and columns of vines. The rot-like void steadily dripped onto the grass, sizzling through the soft material like fire to paper.
“I know it hurts, I-I get that,” Moray exclaimed. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for… whatever happened to you.” Flowey never said what had happened to Starlo. He didn’t even tell them about the whole… plant takeover thing. “You just need to understand that I— I was just scared. And I know you are too, aren’t you?”
“Scared? Me?” “No way.” “You’re right.” “I’m still so confused…” “I was killed.” “It’s all Clover’s fault.” Starlo let out a small whine, his body less tense. The vines on his body stopped shifting so quickly, and he seemed to observe Moray’s tied-up form. “I… hurt you?” “How could I?” “You deserve it.” You didn’t deserve that.”
Moray felt the pressure get released from their body, and they instantly collapsed into the gentle embrace of the lawn below. White particles swirled around their body, but eventually settled down around and on top of their exhausted frame. Dust began rushing to their limbs, making them feel like they were made of static. They closed their eyes, willing the lightheadedness away.
Starlo stood overhead, glancing down at the Aquatic beneath them. “You’re hurt.” “That’s my fault.” “I could care less.” “I’m sorry.” “I’ll help.” Smaller, more tender vines sprouted from the earth, wrapping around Moray’s arms and healing their injuries. They were still reeling from that battle, so they were still alert and ready to notice any sudden changes.
They had to admit, the sensation of being healed felt nice. They’d much rather be with a passive Starlo than one that was trying to get rid of them. “Thanks, Star…” they muttered, voice showcasing their fatigue. It was slowly subsiding, though, for the starbeing’s magic was steadily giving them a boost of energy.
Starlo trilled softly in response, kneeling next to Moray. He idly ran his claws through the thick grass, waiting for the healing spell to finish its job.
“I… I really missed you, you know?” Moray admitted. “You gave everyone a scare… I guess finding you here gave me a scare, too.” They sighed, opening their eyes and propping themselves up on their elbows. Finally, a free range of movement. “I guess I’m just glad my sheriff’s okay too.”
“I’m okay.” “Perfectly fine.” “It still hurts.” Starlo let out another gentle warble, gazing down at Moray’s wounds. Any trace of hostility was gone, now that he registered Moray as a friend. Again. “Healed?” “Are you okay?” “You’re all right.” “I fixed it…!”
“I’m all right, thank you,” Moray reported. They couldn’t stop the smile that graced their expression, even if they were still somewhat tired. “Starlo, I… Angels above, I’m so glad you’re alive.” Even if you nearly tried to kill me, they added in their head. And even though you look and act completely different. Their clothes were ripped too… Nothing they couldn’t fix, they were sure.
The starbeing stood up, moving over to where Moray’s weapon had been discarded. He shook the fragments of flowers off of it, making sure it was cleaned off before returning it to Moray. “Ah, thank you,” they exclaimed, jabbing at the air before sheathing their rapier once more.
They watched curiously as Starlo crouched down again, hands on top of the dirt. His eye was closed, and Moray couldn’t pull their eyes away. A small golden flower began to grow — starting as a tiny sprout but soon gaining majestic petals that eventually unfurled. Carefully, Starlo had plucked the flower from where it grew, wordlessly offering it to Moray.
“Oh?” Moray followed Star’s hand, staring at the gift he was presenting. A peace offering? they assumed. “Is this for me?”
Starlo nodded, moving the floret closer. “Gift.” “It’s an apology.” “For you.” “Do you like it?” “It’s a present.” He leaned forward, carefully manipulating the flower’s stem to stay put in their hair.
Moray didn’t object at all. In fact, they found the action comforting and a tad bit nostalgic. After the fight they had, maybe some time to make up was what they needed. A soft chuckle slipped past their lips, and they found themselves leaning into Starlo’s peculiar touch. At least their mission worked out, and it answered most of their questions. …Even if the answers had nearly cost them their life.
Maybe all they needed was time.
The flower stood nearby, hidden around a corner. Boy oh boy, did his mission work out.
If Clover was gone, there was no one Flowey could mess with. Moray seemed to be a bit more obedient than the human, he noted. Well, he had to give props to that child. At least they got to the King’s Castle, like they were supposed to. Did they really think they’d get to go home? He should ask that to their SOUL, now captured and locked away.
He had been watching Moray for a while, gracing them with all the nasty nightmares that had been plaguing their mind. Oh, was it fun watching the little Aquatic squirm… He loved it.