They knew there would be nothing they wished to see in the care of someone who’d killed them a dozen times. They had a family once, and there was nothing for them there, either. Asgore, befuddled, asks if they’d truly rather stay down here and suffer? That, if they truly do, that he promises that he would care for them as his own…īut they refused again. They had not come to the Underground with the intent of going back above. And Asgore made much the same plea that he would make to Frisk, much, much later: To take his soul and, with its power, leave the Underground and be free from the cursed place.īut they refused. But eventually, through perseverance, they overcame Asgore. Once they did, and conflict began, Purple, of course, died swiftly. Unable to turn away and leave them be without betraying his promise, Asgore reluctantly made to meet with Purple. Asgore came to town for his monthly bucket of snails, only for some well-meaning citizen to come up to him and announce that a human was living on the outskirts of town. Purple had taken up refuge in Waterfall, primarily because it was pretty and there were a lot of neat things for them to draw. “Yup.” I guess I’m still smiling a bit, and I definitely hate it. I look down again, at the overstretched kid’s shirt. I sneer, mouth open, at the empty spot before forcing my mouth shut. I turn around sharply, finding only a collapsing clack waiting for me. guess we’ll find out soon, right? ’scuse me, then.” Sans speaks again, and I swear I hear his smile grow broader. I hear Papyrus shout his familiar greetings from our front door, followed but Toriel’s voice responding, muffled through the walls. “Oh, pfft, you didn’t need to - wait, ’we’-?” “just figured we’d check in, see how you’re holding up, hang out a bit.” “What are you even doing here, Sans? You and Pap going out today, or?” I laugh with him as I come to a stop, kneeling down to gather up the laundry bag from my hamper. “has someone been practicing their sass or what.” “ wow.” His skull rocks rhythmically, feigning insult but still smiling. “Hey man, I’m just trying to be merciful here.” I glance back down at the literally glaring thing, tilting my chin up. you haven’t even said a thing about my new shirt here.” “wow.” He comes to a stop, smiling deeper, his permanent grin coming to his eyes. “I’m not about to listen to that from the guy wearing a whole outfit older than I am.” “just can’t help but think what tori’d say if she saw you.” “heh, i get it, buddy, you know i do.” He shrugs up at me, shaking his head. “Look, not like this is anything less than a last resort, y’know? It’s not an option for anything remotely civilized, obviously, but laundry day? Still viable.” I shrug, tugging the shirt as far down as it can go. “seriously though, frisk? i understand hanging onto to stuff that’s close to you, but, uh…” I hear him trotting along next to me as I go, still chattering. “no kiddin’.” A low chuckle rolls out of him, and a low sigh rolls out of me as I turn away. If I still counted as a kid, this thing wouldn’t be trying to strangle me right now.” I tsk down at him, rolling my eyes, but I feel myself smiling, hate it or not. it probably counts as a relic of monster history by now.” I glance down, seeing Sans stand looking up at me with a slightly more smarmy grin than usual. “whoa, kid,” a rounded voice next to me pipes up from below. The world shifts darker between instants with a sharp clack. I shoulda’ taken care of laundry, like, a week ago. I grab roughly at the collar of the ancient shirt and tug, forcing it little more stretched and a little less suffocating. This is what happens when people like me take breaks. It tries to pin my shoulders, crushing around my chest.
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