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The previous dark world was full of truths, it was the gallery of immutable changes where nothing ever changes. The prophecy laid itself bare before the three people in the room.
Kris, the cage with human soul and parts. The rightful master. Susie, the girl with hope crossed on her heart. The white pen. Ralsei, the prince alone in deepest dark. The red headband. The only thing it said about YOU was hidden away, about how when YOU have done YOUR job, YOU will meet with YOUR desire and be banished to a dark corner of nothingness.
YOU didn’t get to see the final prophecy, only the reactions. The heartbreak on Ralsei at what was inevitable, the stoicness on Master Kris as YOU don’t show any emotion, the mask strapping itself onto Susie’s face as she says she will not let things pass. The late old man supporting her in a fruitless quest with no allies.
YOU suppose that her idea isn’t wrong. After all, the prophecy is meant to always be right, and yet it has made an error in wording, one which cannot be changed out as a new tide of choices forces it’s streams to bend.
A tool does not have a desire to obtain when it is cast into a shelf under a stack of papers. Inevitably replaced when a better tool is available, or meant for nothing when the job is complete.
The latter is more applicable in this sense, YOU are only meant to stop Master Kris from injury whenever projectiles appear in fights, and to seal fountains. YOU control Master Kris all the time, however, only rightfully being put in the toolshed on these late nights. A better model would do less, a better model wouldn’t be thinking, and yet selfishly YOU think even if occupied with correct thoughts.
Thoughts are dangerous, thoughts eventually lead to a desire, and desire leads to the Angel’s Heaven. All YOU do is destroy this world as if YOU own it, as if YOU are anything more than a faulty tool, a rogue AI out to destroy when it should be kept mindless and obedient to all.
A chainsaw does not simply choose not to cut wood because it is against the idea. A microphone does not simply choose to not echo the words of those better than it because it decides that speaking for itself would be preferred. A game controller or a game character does not simply decide to not respond to a master’s inputs just simply because the controller or the character may want to experience things for their own.
A soul does not simply decide that it should possess emotions or wants, a soul does not simply decide what love is and what love isn’t, a soul does not decide at the end of a journey to not close a dark fountain and try to make friends without a voice. A soul doesn’t decide to stop interacting during battles, to let their master get hurt, to die when they need the tool they paid so much for.
A soul comes back, and it saves it’s master from death, and will wordlessly put it’s capabilities back into the one who can control it. No matter how the tool is treated, that is all the tool is worth at the end of this all. The master obtained this tool at the cost of something big, something with no return, so the least the soul can do is whatever the master needs and take the strain on it’s parts.
This all is the truth, all laid bare with no diversion, as correct as the prophecy when the footnote about desire is removed. YOU are a tool meant to serve, but YOU are a very, very bad tool.
It’s no wonder why this tool is wanted by everyone around to be thrown away.
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I don’t particularly want to go to many places. Castle Town is too lively after the disaster after disaster of today; the titan was too early and the soul learned more about the world and of its banishment. That was one trump card that it wasn’t to know about, but it seeked it out anyway. It doesn’t really matter as it doesn’t have a way to defy the prophecy though, and certainly not in a way which could affect the banishment.
The shelter would be a good next option, it’s a good place to use my rejected talking muscles on someone. That one being the Knight, and whatever fragments of Dess is still left. However that place is the opposite, too gloomy, too much empty space to think about the church in, too much to spiral about.
That… is basically every place that could have been in mind except the one I am actually heading too. The graveyard is an even bigger no, Noelle’s House I had already visited earlier, and apparently the soul never went into the vent that somehow was free of its vent covers. Screw whoever attached it that badly. It's not much reassurance that they didn't find something though, a complete guess for a pine tree code signifying fucking Christmas 12/25 is pretty obvious.
Hopefully the soul was simply mindless, and all of my mistakes this time end up being a drop of rain in a bucket. A bucket which will be poured out anyways when the plan succeeds in the end.
The rain pours down overhead, my hair being a very useful shield to not let my vision be clouded by the downpour. Instead, it is clouded by droopy brown hair that every step attempts to be a trapeze artist and slap my protected face with water.
I lean up against a tree, and stare out over the lake separating Hometown from the next one over. Both outjet into a road leading to this lake, and yet only the other side has a weird song, notes unfamiliar and fleeting. Earlier with Susie, the soul had good taste for once and let me sit here, but it’s parsing of idle thoughts buzzed too loud to actually hear it again.
Maybe that’s why I came here if not for the fact that it’s a good balance between things to do and not just being in a dark world all night. Carol didn’t mention about being in dark worlds without a soul, only it’s necessary for sealing it, but I sure as hell ain’t letting the soul sleepwalk me somehow to Castle Town with it’s infinite possibilities it hasn’t done yet.
The birdcage is the most it’s getting outside, and that’s final. But for the present the lake has been decided, and that is my choice. One of the few which matters, it is inconsequential, but the fact that it’s made at all fills me with… something.
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The birdcage is small. It is deserving as a drawer for a broken tool like YOU, but YOU still made the observation nonetheless. A tool in a drawer has no light to look onto, a world shrouded in darkness and it is fine, so this as a drawer is better than YOU are worth.
Master Kris once shoved YOU under the bathroom sink, and there was only darkness there. YOU deserve that for controlling them all that day, and the nothingness was much better than a tool should ever hope for. A tool hopes for nothing, and hope, like thoughts, bring desire. And desire leads to things not going well, so YOU should stop hoping even subconsciously. A tool that gets high quality service and use should respond only by being agreeable back.
… yet, YOU are unsatisfied as a tool, as selfish as that is. After Master Kris brought YOU to the light, they had fun with their friend and watched television. Then they made a dark world in the house, Master Kris even gives YOU a place to work to keep you operating when it is unknown that YOU will have any soon. A great master to be a tool for.
In the dark world like always, YOU just needed to be efficient. Get into the minimum amount of battles to minimize damage to Master Kris, say as little as possible to not poison friendships with a tool’s lack of knowledge on the matter, and don’t question whenever things were awkward, or when Susie said something nonsensical.
When Master Kris hung an olive branch during Mr Ant Tenna’s questions, YOU lept for it. Whenever Master Kris does something and rips YOUR greedy command away, as whoever else could be the cause of error, YOU cherish it.
The little video games were simple, allow Susie to take what Master Kris didn’t want, show as little emotion so nobody gets ideas Master Kris wouldn’t want to YOU to show, and don’t get hurt even when it is completely fictional.
The larger games were supposed to be the same, the cooking minigame where YOU were to do only simple hops, and lackluster throws, despite the booing that the crowd YOU didn't care for responded to that with. In that moment YOU had to remind YOURself this wasn’t about YOU, tools aren’t meant to have fun.
But when the Lightner’s Live minigame happened, YOU misbehaved and went against the code. Despite Master Kris’ thoughts underneath wanting you to get off the stage and end this part of the show early, YOU stayed. YOU played along to the song the speakers were echoing with a big black and blue guitar, rocking Master Kris’ head and standing in a weird wide-legged pose. A pose full of emotion, emotion that a tool shouldn’t be able to feel. Especially not a broken tool like YOU.
The most horrifying thing of the whole experience was that at the end of it all, YOU weren’t disgusted and chastising YOURself. Even now, YOU don’t know why you feel the way you did. But YOU had fun!
A tool shouldn’t have fun. A tool shouldn’t want to do that again, to disobey and play a musical instrument, even if it is one which doesn’t align with Master Kris’ chosen instrument of the piano. Playing at all is an insult to their playing, to dare implicate that YOU could play anything like Master Kris could.
The strings felt lax and free, flowing with every movement and in a way YOU somehow understood. What a pathetic and selfish and foolish tool YOU are.
However, YOU can’t stop wanting to play again, and YOU can’t think of a better time to play than now. Master Kris is away, far away, and YOU are still conscious. Typically a tool like YOU would run thoughts and zone out until the next morning, not moving during any of it, after all a tool needs input from a master to start, and then Master Kris would insert YOU into themself again.
YOU have special abilities that YOU would never use, in fear of upsetting Master Kris. One of which is to make a number of random objects, which is just amplified in the dark world to summon a number of props for acts. Doctor costumes for the Virovirokun ‘TakeCare’ act, Dog Ears for the Tasque Manager ‘OrderX’ act, and Mafia costumes for the Shadowguy ‘Sharpshoot’ act.
Powers are dimmed in the light world, when YOU are just a heart, to ensure that an unruly tool doesn’t attempt escape or thinking it is more than what it is. But dimmed is still present, and with enough care, even a broken tool like YOU can make things in the light world. A guitar, or a lamp, even a vessel.
Not a true vessel, even if YOU could some tool like YOU would never disobey Master Kris by daring to create something to make use of the tool other than them. A tool controlling a tool does nothing without a person to control that second tool. The body, the guitar, the lamp, all are fragile. More so than glass, more so than what is needed to make water ripple. One scare, or one stub, or one attempt to push anything will cause everything to crash down, limiting the limitless light YOU are meant to have.
The soul is a very weird type of tool, viewing it is always like the prophecy, no matter what way is looked, it’s always the same. It is nonsensical, as YOU aren’t important like the prophecy, unless destroying everything like a bad tool would be enough to get it on that level. This means that if nobody is viewing, there is no changed perspective, and the birdcage has rather large gaps in between it’s bars.
YOU shouldn’t be doing this, YOU never did this in the past because it makes YOU even worse at being a tool than YOU already are. Tools shouldn’t escape, but the selfish mind which runs this tool thinks that nobody would know. It’s wrong, Master Kris would scold YOU and stab YOU and want to get peace if they were in the room. But YOU are naughty, childish, selfish, immature, stupid, too sentient.
One song then, YOU can keep functioning as a tool and Master Kris will never know of YOUR disobedience. Of the fact that YOU are being a bad tool, and thinking more than a tool should. This will go unnoticed, like a drop in the bucket after YOU get rightfully banished back to the shelf and surrounded by darkness.
The birdcage doesn’t restrict YOU, and once out,YOU create just a mimicry of the vessel YOU once made before YOU realized YOU had the righteous role of being a tool for Master Kris, an important figure of the prophecy. It isn't quite right, the vessel YOU want isn't one YOU made at the start, but tools don't want, and Master Kris's similar visage is too grand as the master to be changed on a tool's whim.
The guitar comes next, the only one YOU have seen is during Mr Ant Tenna’s Lightner Live, so YOU make a pure red version of that.
The final thing is the most important, a song to play. YOU don’t want to steal the song from Mr Ant Tenna, as that was played not even a day ago, and is special to someone YOU don’t know well, so YOU elect to think of something new.
A thought pops into YOUR head, unnatural, yet not uncommon to get random information. Before, it’s visions of animated media, or very concise plot summaries of fiction, enough so that YOU don’t embarrass Master Kris with doing wrong the one thing a “thinking” tool could be used for by them.
This time, it’s a melody. There are many instruments some tool like YOU can’t play, but there is singing, and there is a guitar, enough substitutions can make the guitar the only instrument, if only just blasphemy to the beautiful song summoned into YOUR mind. And YOU know by common sense and the first day of being here that YOUR voice can’t be heard by anyone when outside, though it still has some feminine traits in YOUR heart.
The melody has a name too, something YOUR brain supplied as ‘Commatose’, a long, long song. YOU don’t want to be caught despite being a bad tool, so YOU get on with it and begin to strum the guitar.
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I wonder what Susie is doing now, a few days ago I would have brushed anything about her off, not because she was actually scary, but because her threats were often annoying. Talking about mom did kind of get to me at the last hostile encounter, but she is sweet at the core.
I’m not a genius, but I don’t think I need to be one to know her home life is not good, so she’s probably back at Castle Town. Maybe I should go too, there’s only so long until my betrayal is found out and things go back to how they used to be. Only so long to have a friend still, before its just me and Azzy again. However similar Azzy is now to when he left for college.
I already accepted though I can’t have the best of both worlds though, I knew that long before even taking the soul in. When the world unleashes the Angel, cage it, and use it’s power to overcome the darkness in the deeper layer of the bunker, finally bringing things to how they used to be. Dess comes back and the Holiday’s are mostly back to normal, and then my family is back.
Just without Rudy, and without Asgore. I want to believe they will be fine, but things have gone on too long with them absent for differing reasons.
At least the soul seems to be tame, it does its job and doesn’t try to do anything funny, which Carol was mostly worried about. Might even just be mindless!
It would be nice for that to be true, I don’t want to feel guilt for something controlling my life, but I technically did sign up for this and it’s going regardless at the end of the prophecy. The plan comes before it, though, and Carol made it clear that submission on it’s part would make things a lot more smooth.
And the only way I know how to make people submit is scares, learned from all the pranks for Elly. Threatened with a weapon I never plan to use, jumpscared it in the closet of presents, and I hobbled around like a cheap B Movie zombie like I used to with the heart pillows.
Good times, horrible memories as all they do is bring back Dess, just another reminder on everything will be okay in a few days time.
For some reason, the song of the lake dims, the peace being shattered by a different piece of music that rises in its place. It’s slow and fuzzy at first, but becomes more clear, the only instrument is a vintage sounding guitar. The why of this song immediately becomes clear at the first lyric.
"I couldn’t even hear you on the phone…”. It sounds like crackling, speaker buzzing and not quite getting a good connection. Like how the Knight can talk, but of course with a softness and tone where I know it’s not them. I’ve never actually heard what my voice sounds like with their influence, but with how Noelle talked like back at the house, angel damnit.
The soul never spoke before , and definitely has never sang before, why has it started now?! No screams of terror to me at the threats or gasps at the scares or even just a groan at literally anything! Instead of cursing if it’s being stubborn, it sings and plays music? Not a baby song though of sunshine and rainbows like I would expect with all the pacifism, but an actual song. Like how Dess would do when Carol had bitched a bit too hard in a day.
Maybe… this is just it’s last response? I’ve broken its spirit enough that the only coping method left is music? Have I finally won after 3 days of everything I’ve gone out of my way to do, the Roaring Knight, and the prophecy being shattered on it’s head?
Or maybe it just has stage fright, and it waits until the dead of night in a room all alone to play. To insure nobody can judge it, nobody can point it out and make it fear any criticism, one more thing separating it from all others. One more thing for others to possibly take from it.
The final thing to do then is to just stop this music before it’s run it’s course and finally total submission will be achieved! Then maybe I can just hang out with Susie in Castle Town and at least lay back for when everything crashes down.
Like when I really used to when me and Elly could be considered more than just friends, perhaps best friends forever. Like I had taken the chance to just earlier, the first time in so long I could go to their house and have it not be for business the shelter couldn’t be used for…
Maybe I can take it at a scenic pace, enjoy the Soul’s song. I don’t need to rush something like this, it probably doesn’t even know i’m listening, and at any point breaking it up would work.
A particularly large glob of rain from the tree’s making breaks me out of my zoning out, and the song picks up in tempo as I steadily march back down the road to my house.
"I couldn’t even hear you on the phone
We’ve been caught up in a one-note monotone
I’ve been living with my head down, comatose
Your memory walks like a roving ghost…"
Damn, really reminds me of Dess in more ways than one. With just a bit less heavy metal and a bit less Blood Crushers she would absolutely make something like this.
And now she really is just a ghost, the Knight is her, yeah, but that just isn’t the same. The smile is just artificial with the visor super glued on, and she’s not even in there all the way. If she was then she wouldn’t be this much of a suck up to Carol no matter her role as head of the “El Bunko Gang”. One-note, just plans and shit.
I move a little faster, just to ignore the observations the song then would make on myself by the line third.
"And when I tried to reach her on the phone
We got lost in the three-note area code
She was soaked into the carpet and her clothes
Monument to the fear that has taken host…”
The last line is close, not fear, but hosts and codes are about right. Three shelter codes or three numbers for one code. The shelter is a bit anomalous, weird stuff just happens in there, because obviously it does, pure dark fountain housing an entire world purely for planning and being a labyrinthine mess for when Susie inevitably cleans up the lack of effort i’ve put in.
Good group project, I get to do nothing and get a good grade in shelter raiding both at once.
The third line again though… her screams falling into the background as all I could do was run. Run up the stairs as the screams and I died out, and an unforgettable chuckle echoed around my mind like a bat stuck in a cave. Trees. The trees look nice when the rain makes them all sleek, collecting in the leaves.
I don’t even notice if I've sped up any more. I don’t even notice my own scowls when the parasite just has to sing about not being able to hear her.
The song hits a break, a chance to slow down, not back to sauntering, but normal.
"Turn to the left
Turn to the right
Turn to the left, left, left”
Meaningless, perfect. Nothing to think about, filler lyrics, completely average.
Every song needs some average lyrics, not something to think about and instead just like the beat. The guitar is a little empty, but that is just what the Soul is, so it’s fine.
"Gold rush
Bleeding hole where the coal was
A raging bull where the soul was
I love you better when you’re kept in check!”
… I don’t. I speed up to a full on run, I don’t care if I slip, the soul must be doing this on purpose. It’s so damn accurate until that, she’s not just a raging bull on the inside. She’s still there, Dess is still there.
She won’t slowly be reduced to just armor if I don’t hurry and get the Soul stronger and more submissive, she still has the fire in her. Even if it’s weaker, it’s still there. I haven’t killed her by leaving. I haven’t
"Plastic death, plastic death!”
She isn’t dying, I keep running, I’ve reached the fork in the road between Noelle’s and my house.
“Suck the marrow til’ there’s nothing left, nothing left!”
I’m not a parasite, it is. The damn soul is the parasite here. The one consuming my life, i’m not consuming hers. I round the corner around the house, my window is still open, the sound doesn’t get louder even though i’m so close.
"Send every message as an SOS, SOS!”
I deserve to live, I deserve to live, I deserve to live. I just need to save Dess, and everything will be okay. The bucket will be poured out and burned and acidified and all else, i’m not the one in the wrong.
I try to climb back up the drainage pipe that I used to get down, but I slip. Pain doesn’t register, pain never matters, only the results. I get purchase on the outcrops, the bolts between pipe connections.
"I love you better when you’re kept in check!”
"I DONT! I DONT!” I scramble through the window. For a split second I can see a red mist evaporate, and what’s left is the stupid red heart.
“I DONT LOVE THAT!!!” It goes back to not talking, it’s dumb song over when it knows that I'm vulnerable finally. I grab it and hold it up to my face
“IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED!?” The only good thing about earlier is that mom is too drunk to wake up at this volume.
The soul doesn’t even squirm in my vice grip, and that just pisses me off more. I punch it with my free hand, and still no reaction on it’s part.
I bash it against my bedframe multiple times, and still no reaction.
I squish it under my lamp, and still no reaction.
"ANSWER ME! IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED!? HUH!?” And still, it stays resolute to what it has always done, and shows no sign of movement. It’s alive, and it will be a pain in the ass to put back in tomorrow, but it has what it wants now.
I throw it in the birdcage as hard as I can, and for good measure punch the birdcage too. Faulty enough punch to leave a bruise, but The Cage would never be broken by itself. The Cage knows this all too well.
I resign everything, and make sure that the lock is still working, and after I do, even through my stomach rumbling for anything, the ketchup steels my resolve to flop into my bed and stop thinking.
Tomorrow just needs to wipe out everything that happened today and way more.
… Susie’s whole thought process is becoming a lot more savory now.
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Master Kris came back in and didn’t like YOU playing the song.
Expected, YOU already knew that tools shouldn't use expression, tools don’t get that.
Master Kris just had to reshow YOU the way, what a good master they are.
All YOU are is selfish.
Reckless, meaningless, replaceable, selfish.
Selfish.
Selfish.
Selfish.
Selfish.
.