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Kris dreams of pie.
Or, at least, they try to.
The warmth of cinnamon is just starting to curl around their senses when the floor beneath them splits into static, the kitchen dissolving like wet paper. They blink and suddenly they're standing in the middle of a - what the fuck - courtroom?
Except the walls are made of shifting static, the benches drip ink, and there's no judge. Just the sound of two voices arguing so loudly Kris's ears hurt - even though it's just a dream (questionable).
"They were MINE first, Gaster!"
"✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💣︎☜︎✌︎☠︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎✡︎ 🕈︎☜︎☼︎☜︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ 🏱︎☼︎⚐︎☺︎☜︎👍︎❄︎📪︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ 👍︎☟︎✋︎☹︎👎︎✏︎"
"I COULD SAY THE SAME TO YOU!"
Kris turns slowly. On one side: a figure glowing so bright it hurts to look, a red, blazing silhouette of raw conviction and.. annoyance. The SOUL, pulsing like a heartbeat given human form.
On the other: a tall, half-formed shadow of black ichor with hands that shouldn't exist, voice fracturing at the edges like a broken radio. Gaster?
Kris doesn't know who the hell the two are screaming about, but judging by the monochrome kid-sized figure sitting in the gallery seats, nervously fidgeting with their own sleeve - oh. That's gotta be the Vessel. Maybe ??
"...Um," Kris tries. Bad idea. Both heads snap toward them like they just realized the jury exists.
"Stay out of this, Kris," the SOUL says, glowing brighter, "this isn't your fight."
"👎︎⚐︎☠︎🕯︎❄︎ 💧︎🏱︎☜︎✌︎😐︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎💣︎ ☹︎✋︎😐︎☜︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎," Gaster hisses, tendrils twitching. "❄︎☟︎☜︎✡︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 💧︎❄︎✌︎☝︎☜︎📪︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ✌︎👍︎❄︎⚐︎☼︎📬︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ☞︎⚐︎☼︎☝︎☜︎❄︎ 🕈︎☟︎⚐︎💧︎☜︎ 👎︎☼︎☜︎✌︎💣︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎💧︎ ✋︎💧︎📬︎"
Kris stares. ????????????????????????????
Something shatters. They whirl. IMAGE_FRIEND (????) has hopped up onto the judge's bench and casually knocked over a void-goblet thing. It's dripping weird black goo. "Meow. Order in the court," it announces like this is normal. IT CAN TALK ?????
From the back, another voice: "I think I should get custody actually."
What. The. Fuck. Why is SHE here????????
"No one asked you!" the SOUL snaps, wings of light bristling. "Actually, everyone asked me," the Knight insists, swigging their drink. "The apocalypse literally won't happen without me, soooo -"
"⚐︎🕆︎❄︎📬︎ ☠︎⚐︎🕈︎📬︎" Gaster’s voice reverberates so hard the static floor cracks.
Kris backs away, palms sweaty, knees weak and arms are heavy. This isn't pie. This isn't even close to pie. The Vessel glances at them shyly with a small wave, their glow pulsing faintly. "Hi, Kris :3."
They swallow hard, deadpan, voice low. "I'm never eating before bed again."
The courtroom dissolves and they wake up.