Chapter Text
Once upon a December, she sat alone in her room, testing out a new combination of chords with the lyrics she’d written in the middle of the night after a particularly colorful dream.
“And then I rocked her world, and her little dog too- no, that sounds kinda freaky, ugh…”
She’d been at it for an hour, and her fingers were just starting to warm up. Dess rubbed her fingers together experimentally, blowing on them once for good luck.
“DECEMBER.” A voice yelled sternly from downstairs. Dess rolled her eyes. Ugh, mom.
Dess strummed a few more chords until she was absolutely sure her mother would scream at her if she waited any longer, then casually tossed her guitar on the bed. She’d get to taking care of it later. She clambered downstairs, still in her pajamas, hair unbrushed and sticking in every direction. As she rounded the corner to her christmassy kitchen, she saw her mother about to take in a breath to yell again, stopping when she saw Dess. Dess straightened up and held her hand to her brow in a military fashion.
“December Holiday, reporting for duty, Miss Mayor Holiday!” She barked, unable to keep a smirk from quirking on the corner of her mouth.
Her mother sighed. “It’s already 7am, December. You need to actually study today, instead of spending all your time on that… ‘band’ of yours.”
“We’re going to be performing for this years festival, mother.” Dess said oh-so-sweetly. “We need to practice.”
“What kind of band doesn’t even have a drummer?” Her mother grumbled. “When I was in a band at your age…”
“Yeah yeah, you were town famous with your ice skating tricks, whatEVER. I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”
Mom smiled. “Glad to hear it. But I promise you, if you can find a drummer…”
Dess rolled her eyes again and went to grab some bacon.
But as she walked to school that morning, she did think to herself, even if just a tiny bit… a drummer *would* be nice.
The best thing about Senior Year was that practically no one cared what you did. As long as Dess kept her grades up (which, to be fair, she had been rather derelict in) and pretended to pay attention, she could leave halfway through class and no one would bat an eye. And thats exactly what she did, on a Tuesday afternoon.
Dess made her way to the picnic tables near the ocean and sat down, strumming. She could feel it reverberating through her bones.
“And then I rocked her world and her sister’s too - yeah, that sounds better - and if you give me a kiss, I could rock your world too!”
Dess struck a particularly intense chord, with the pose to match. Playing near the water let the sound carry in a rather pleasing way. It got her in the mood for theatrics.
“Dess! Hey, Dess!” She didn’t have to turn to know that it was Asriel. Busted.
“You’re playing without me?” He asked as he ran up, leaning his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.
“I can’t believe you’re skipping, Azzy!” Dess chided in a mockingly stern voice. “And on a Tuesday!”
“You working on that new song you texted me about last night at…” he pulled out his phone and squinted. “...3am? The Witching Hour, nice.”
“Yeah.” Dess said, messing around with the guitar a bit more. “They sound a lot dumber in the afternoon than they did at 3am.”
“Don’t they always.” Azzy said dryly. “Lemme see em.”
“...”
“You’re right, these do need some work.”
Dess sighed.
“Oh yeah, and when are we going to get a drummer?”
“Oh my god, Asriel. We- hold on. That building looks different.”
The two of them stared at the old building, once abandoned, which now said ‘Sans’ in the corner.
Dess and Asriel looked at one another.
Dess knocked on the door.