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New Dark Worlds tended to carry strong scents in the first hours of their existences. Castle Town had smelled like fresh lint—the first scent Ralsei could remember. Cyber City’s overheated tangles of wire had carried wave after wave of overexerted dust into his nose and across his tongue, a smell he’d remember again when the scent of pleasantly crackling static replaced it that night, only to be overtaken the next day with that of wax, wood polish, and yellowed paper. Ralsei had thought about complimenting that Sanctuary smell when he’d arrived there; he was supposed to like old books. Such a compliment, however, would imply he appreciated the gushing of new Fountains. He certainly wasn’t supposed to do that.
This time, however, it was hard not to bask in it—the smell of running water, pools of algae, freshly-turned soil, and air heavy with oxygen. The buzz of happy insects, the spongy ground between the cobblestones, the spectrum of green which framed everything, blowing softly in the same cool wind which tinkled bells hanging from sturdy stems. Ralsei would be lying if he said he hadn’t expected a Fountain in the flower shop, and he would be lying again if he said he wanted it sealed quickly.
As such, the Prince of the Dark found himself dangerously content while he performed his duty of scoping out the nooks and crannies of the small world before the Lightners arrived. He greeted the little bug Darkners which flitted about, scratched the testy fox Darkners behind their pointed ears, and—he would be loath to admit—wasted away minutes by a stream near the entrance, his feet in the water and his glasses put aside. Head tilted back, he imagined how his gaze would slide over all the small wonders of this world if he didn’t know it would be dead by nightfall.
Some tragedies, he decided, were necessary. Only some.
As he stepped away from the stream, Ralsei considered reaching past the layer that confined him to blow some wind against his feet and dry them, but the soil that surrounded him was even springier when he stepped on it now. He may as well enjoy the walk to the Fountain’s edge. Whichever Lightner was trapped here today would be better off observed by a Ralsei calmed by his surroundings.
He giggled to himself at the thought. ‘A Ralsei,’ as if there were others. If only it were so, he might not need to pick up his pace as he was. There would be a Ralsei in every corner, every Dark World, and he could keep his peace here. He wouldn’t be the one wringing his paws as he walked, tripping on uneven ground, and listening to the hasty footsteps of a Darkner running near the water, repeating . . . the alphabet?
Ralsei approached quietly, careful to step toe-first to reduce any squelching noises. He’d heard correctly; on the far side of the stream, running laps between an eastern-style temple and the water’s edge, was a humanoid Darkner. Ralsei could sense their connection to the flower shop, their inability to experience anything beyond it. They could be nothing else. Crouching behind the stream’s cattail border, he watched them approach and run away again.
“Thirty days has September,” they were huffing under their breath now, struggling to pronounce the ‘s’ sounds of the rhyme. “April,” they continued, running back toward the temple. “July . . . No . . . think!”
Ralsei wondered how long they’d been running. They certainly weren’t outfitted for a jog. Besides their soil-spattered sneakers, their oversized slacks and button-up looked fit to trip them at any—
“Ugh! Not again!”
—moment. Ralsei giggled, watching their clothes do exactly as he’d predicted, sending them sprawling into the stream bed. He backed up from the opposite side before they could readjust their thick-lensed glasses, but stumbled himself on a snaggly root bursting from the path.
Holding his breath, he watched the Darkner take notice of his movement.
“Hello?” they asked. There were still no Lightners to watch him—Ralsei could make the Darkner’s glasses vanish and try to sneak away under the cover of the blurriness they’d squint through. He shouldn’t present himself to the more intelligent Darkners of the flower shop until Lightners stood by his side.
“Hello? Aqua?” Their voice sounded younger than his own. Around the age of Kris and Susie’s. Ralsei turned from the temptation to take their glasses and stood up, pushing through the cattails and brushing himself off.
“I’m sorry,” he began. “My name is Ra—oh! Oh, no. There’s no need for that.” Ralsei cringed, watching the borders of his view compressed into a familiar box. What looked like words lined the edges, poised to shoot towards a soul that wasn’t there.
The Darkner narrowed their eyes behind their lenses. “Are you a Lightner?”
Maybe this wasn’t one of the ‘more intelligent’ Darkners after all.
“Ah, no. As you can see,” Ralsei tried.
The Darkner squinted harder, crossing their arms while their oversized outfit beat against them in the wind that battles tended to trigger. Under their collar, Ralsei could make out some sort of purple fur blowing about as well. No, it was softer than fur. Thinner. Petals. Ralsei nodded, noticing that what looked like their hair appeared to be made of the same material. Of course. Ralsei had met beetles, burrowers, and pots, but had yet to find a flower. It stood to reason that said flower would think him out of place. Ralsei understood that goats tended not to spend time in gardens.
“I’m from a nearby Dark World,” he explained. “I, ah, found myself here. We must be neighbors.”
“You aren’t here to take Asgore away?”
“Asgore?” Ralsei feigned confusion.
“Oh,” the Darkner sighed, their attack vanishing into the leaves at last. “How come I’ve never seen you before? What’s your name? What sort of Darkner are you?” They cocked their head, brushing their fluffy petals away from their eyes to get a better look at Ralsei.
Ralsei allowed it, stepping closer and inclining his own head in as polite a fashion as he could muster.
“Like I said, I haven’t been here for long. I hope we can be friends. My name is Ralsei, and I . . . I’m a healer.”
“Oh. Interesting,” the Darkner nodded slowly.
“Can I ask the same questions of you?”
“Right. A polite exchange. I’ve practiced this,” they muttered as if Ralsei wouldn’t be able to hear. “I’m Purple!” they finished with a flourish.
“You are! I’d say you’re the purplest person I’ve ever met. I can’t seem to find a part of you that isn’t, unless . . . are those little leaves by your wrists?”
“No! What!” they exclaimed, shaking their baggy sleeves down over what were very much clusters of green leaves growing around their hands. “I’m called Purple.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Ralsei smiled at the violet blush under their lavender skin. “You must be a flower. That sounds like an important thing to be. I’m sure your attacks are very powerful, then, against Lightners.”
Purple’s blush deepened, and they stepped backwards. The stream bubbled between the two of them.
“I’m a human, actually. Do they not have those where you’re from, Ralsei?”
Ralsei’s smile widened as Purple’s lisp split his name. “Oh, a human. Yes; I’ve heard of them. Quite powerful.” Making a show of frowning, Ralsei slipped the manual he’d written for Kris from the space between and flipped through the pages, glancing up to see Purple’s eyes widen. He’d guessed correctly; someone obsessed with memorization likely idolized books. “It says here, though,” he continued, “that humans don’t come from Dark Worlds.”
“They can too! I know lots of them. We all protect Asgore.”
“Oh, that’s the Lightner you serve? I don’t believe humans have goals so staunch. Not to go against your claims, Purple, but sometimes it’s better to accept who you are so Lightners aren’t confused. A flower is a very special thing to be, and—”
“Humans do too have goals!” Purple stomped closer as they spoke. “What’s that book you have?” They leaned forward to peek into its pages. Ralsei snatched it away.
They smirked. “You can’t trust just one source. Everyone knows that. You have to keep reading. What’s in there, anyway? Were those arrows? Are you like Flowery?”
“Flow . . . Flowery? Who is that?”
“He can do all sorts of things with his weird codes. He’s human, too.”
“Oh, so humans tend to soak up water through their skin?”
Purple followed Ralsei’s gaze to the stream, in the middle of which they’d inadvertently stopped. Instead of becoming heavy and wrinkled, their clothes floated atop the water and remained dry. Under the stream’s clear surface, Ralsei could see Purple’s ankles, like their wrists, bustling with leaves that seemed to grow fuller as they soaked.
“Obviously!” Purple groaned, making no move to step out of the water. “It’s called drinking, stupid. Read an actual book.”
While Ralsei stared, Purple snatched the manual from his paws and flipped through it, raising an eyebrow at its contents.
“Stop that!” Ralsei jumped into the stream and tugged the book out of Purple’s hands.
Purple watched him with wide eyes, stepping back.
“You can’t—you shouldn’t touch that. It’s not for flowers.”
“I told you, I’m—”
“You aren’t a human, Purple. Look at yourself! Goodness. It doesn’t matter what you want to be. We must play our parts.”
It was only when Ralsei felt the sting of water behind his eyes that he understood he should have stopped this conversation before it had started. With a pang of shame, he realized Purple’s eyes were welling with tears as well.
“I’m sorry, Purple, I—I didn’t mean that.”
Purple sniffled, ducking their head behind their mop of petals. “Whatever. I don’t care what you say.”
“How about I . . . make it up to you, yeah? You know, I must have gotten confused because of your name.”
Purple squinted at Ralsei, wiping their nose on their sleeve.
“You’re called Purple, and you were calling for another person named Aqua, right? Another one of your . . . human friends?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Well, Purple isn’t a human name I’ve heard before. Perhaps you might like a nickname. That way, when people meet you, they won’t make the same mistake I did.”
“Nickname?”
“A different name than the one a person’s parents choose for them.”
“Parents?”
“How about Violet? That’s a human name!”
Purple shook their head. “I’m not violet. I’m purple.”
“Right, of course. Magenta?”
“Are you colorblind?”
Ralsei laughed. “Okay, okay. Not a color. You seem like a well-read person, Purple. Are there any characters you like? In the books you read?”
Purple tried to hide their smile behind their collar. “I seem like a . . .? I mean, of course I do. Um . . . I could be Mew Mew?”
“You could,” Ralsei struggled to agree. “What about this: your human friends, how many are there?”
“Seven, including me.”
“A lucky number. In ancient human lore, seven was the number of days it took to create the world.”
“What book did you find that in?”
“It’s . . . a long one. Are you the oldest, Purple? Of your seven friends?”
“Family.”
“Family, right.”
“I’m fifth.” They held out their fingers, counting as they listed. “There’s Flowery, then Blue, then Yellow, then Green, and I’m fifth.”
“In those old stories, the fifth human ever born into the first human family was named Seth.”
Purple’s indigo eyes sparkled behind their lenses. “Seth? I like Seth.”
Ralsei winced. “On second thought, maybe we should choose a name without an ‘s’ sound . . .”
“No, Seth! I choose Seth. Call me Seth!”
“Purple!” a bright voice carried along the stream, followed by a small Darkner dashing towards the two of them, her dress trailing behind her in a gleaming aqua wave. Ralsei’s eyes widened.
“Oh, hello there. You must be—”
“Purple, I’ll save you! Watch!”
Ralsei sighed and waved away the girl’s attempt at creating the borders of a battle. The little Darkner frowned up at him.
“Hey, why isn’t it working?”
Ralsei watched as Purple—Seth—pulled the tiny girl away from him and into their arms.
“Ralsei is a Darkner, Aqua,” they explained to her, fixing her with an informative glare. “I know he doesn’t look like one, but looks aren’t everything, are they?”
Ralsei laughed. “I suppose not, Seth. I suppose not.”
Aqua turned her head towards him, her body still cradled against Seth’s. Family, as Seth had insisted.
“They weren’t talking to you,” she huffed at him. “And their name is Purple.”
“Actually, Aqua, I picked a new name. It’s Seth.”
“Theth.”
“No, say it right.”
“I’m saying it like you said it!”
“That’s not how I said it!”
“I like this game! Can I pick a name?”
Seth grinned. “That’s a great idea, Aqua.”
“Okay! Done!”
“What did you pick?”
“I’ll wait until I hear one I like. Maybe Ralsei.”
“That would be my name,” Ralsei reminded her.
“I know!” Aqua giggled.
“Right then, you two figure that out. Seth, can you do me a favor? As the responsible older sibling?”
“Depends.”
“Just stand right there, okay?” Ralsei stepped away from the stream. Kris and Susie had just arrived. He could feel it. He’d need to move quickly. “Keep Aqua against you, and . . . there.”
Ralsei grimaced as he watched the blank expression he’d forced onto many Darkners’ faces spread across Seth’s and Aqua’s. They’d be disoriented for a while, but Ralsei assumed he and the Lightners would spend enough time exploring for the delirium to work itself out before they all met.
Ralsei turned back to the path and left the two Darkners in the stream.
“Hey!” he heard Aqua shout at his back. “Who’s that?”
“It doesn’t matter, Aqua. Some Darkner, I think. How’d you fall in this stream?”
“I didn’t. You did, Seth.”
Ralsei touched the ribbon against his ear. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he felt, after what he’d put them through, that he owed it to the flower to let them keep at least their name.