songs for the fallen

frisk is not a fan of orange air freshener

Frisk
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 A droplet of water wells across the shiny surface of the purple bandage atop their nose, and they steel themself against the grim, wet atmosphere of the basement tunnel. It's colder down here, and they don't like it at all. They've never had a problem with the cold before, but the vague hint of chill coming from deeper into the tunnel prickles at their skin, reminding them of the snow that stung their face as they climbed Mt. Ebott. Reminding them of Tablecloth's still body. Of the streets of that terrible town. Of the desperation that filled their body no more than two hours ago to end their own existence, just so they could have some choice in the way they went out. They wrap their arms around themself--the sweater and the faded ribbon tied in their hair aren't armor enough.

Toriel stands before them, back turned, head bowed. Pensive. She doesn't seem to notice they're there. Her magic sparks at the tips of her fingers, tongues of white fire curling from short, stubby claws. "What are you doing?" Frisk asks, realizing only once they've already spoken how much danger they might be in.

"Ahead of us lies the end of the Ruins," Toriel says darkly, curling her fingers as she draws upon her magic. "A one-way exit to the rest of the Underground. I am going to destroy it. No one will ever be able to leave again. Now be a good child and go upstairs."

Now they get why she didn't want them playing in the basement. And why the voice in their head was so insistent they go look in the kitchen instead. It makes sense, now. Neither of them want Frisk to leave--probably for different reasons. The voice doesn't like them because they're human. Toriel, on the other hand...

That's not something they want to think about for too long. She seems attached to them. They don't like that. They don't like the thought that they could belong--to her, or with her. So that settles it, then. There's a way out. They aren't staying.

"I'm not gonna go upstairs," they say, cringing just a little at the coldness in their own voice. They don't want to like Toriel, and they've been trying so, so hard not to. But she's nice. She's gentle. And now she's about to destroy their only way out of here.

That's not going to fly with them. They don't really know her. They need a place to run to when things inevitably get bad. They always have. They always will.

The longest Frisk ever stayed in a single foster home was three months.

"I have seen it again and again," Toriel says, stepping forward, not even turning to face them. She keeps her back to them, like she's trying not to let them see her face. "They come. They leave. They die. You naive child. If you leave the Ruins, they...ASGORE...will kill you."

The way she speaks the name Asgore leaves a red mark in the back of their mind. She spits it like fire, like a bitter taste she's trying to get rid of. They try to process what she's saying--is she trying to protect them? All the shoes in the closet in their room--the fact that there was a room for them in the first place. Is this where all those missing children went? Did they come here? Did Toriel know them? Is she telling the truth?

"I'm really tough!" they say, but they realize once it's out of their mouth how stupid they sound. What are they doing, talking like this? "Please, c'mon. You're gonna get bored of me someday."

Her shoulders slump. She still doesn't turn around. The magic at her fingertips only burns brighter. "I am only protecting you, do you understand? Go to your room. Do not try to stop me." Her voice breaks, but Frisk won't stand down. They've never once gone to their room when they were told to, and they aren't going to make this a first.

"No," they say firmly. She's not listening. She thinks she's protecting them. Does she really believe she has that power? To protect them, she'd have to magically make them good. She'll get fed up with them eventually. She'll be the one who hurts them. They know she will, because everyone always does. They stand their ground, hands on their hips. "You can't stop me. I'm leaving."