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December wasn’t sure how long she’d been lost. Wherever she was (if she ‘was’ at all anymore) didn’t give her any indication of time passing, but it felt like she had experienced centuries in this void, with nothing to do but think.
She would’ve given anything to get out of this place, to see her own hands again, to hear her sister’s laughter, or even the obnoxious Christmas music her mother blasted through the house.
Was it even possible to get out? She’d tried before, she knew that much. An annoying impulse in December’s mind told her to try it again. There wasn’t anything else to do, so she attempted to crawl. The floor (if there was one) didn’t feel like anything. Her arms didn’t feel like anything. Moving didn’t feel like anything.
She probably wasn’t even moving.
Regardless, Dess kept ‘going’. She didn’t know for how long. At some point, she was beginning to think she saw something… glowing, somewhere off in the distance. It didn’t feel real. Nevertheless, she tried to move herself towards it.
If there was any chance for her to get out, she would take it.
When the source of the light was within her view, December found it was something like a window, positioned underneath her. She tried to reach out and touch it, but nothing happened. There was nothing to touch it with.
The view through the window showed her a snowy landscape, with a few figures on it. One, she recognised as Kris, another Toriel. The other three were less cut-and-dry to her. The monster with the ax she didn’t recognise at all. The goat with the scarf almost looked like Asriel, but there was something just a bit off. It couldn’t be him.
It was the figure on the other side that troubled her the most. The one with a form that seemed almost hazy, that was changing the shape of its face.
She felt a strange connection to it. Something about the way it moved effortlessly through the air, almost dancing with its sword. Something about its confident demeanour. Something about the way it locked onto its targets in battle. Something that almost reminded her of herself, once.
Then it unhinged its jaw in a terrible roar, and Dess suddenly comprehended something awful. It was like looking at herself through someone else’s eyes. It was using the hands she was so desperate to use again. She would have slammed her fist on the gate if she could, shaken the thing around, screamed “Give me back my body! Give me back my freedom! Give me back my life!”
But alas, it was using her mouth as well.
The window closed suddenly, and December was blind again.