NovaTale

Chapter 17 - The Inevitable

"Why are you always so doom and gloom? Every time you talk about her, you act like you're never gonna see her again." 

Sans only shot her a glare. "Because there's a LOT of shit about all of this that you don't know, and honestly, you'd probably think I was batshit crazy if I told'ya." he stated bluntly, trying to get his point across. Strife only slid him a sideways glance, folding her arms over her chest once more with an incredulous look on her face. "Okay. First, it's me you're talkin' to, Sans. Second, because it's me, you already know I've seen my share of fucked up shit. You act like I don't know about the talkin' flower that pops up all over the Underground, whisperin' God knows what to different folks. And after, messed up shit always seems to happen." she said with a bit of trepidation. Thoroughly confused, Sans stared at her with that sentiment stamped on his face. "Talkin' flower? The fuck?!" To this, Strife merely nodded. "Yeah! You didn't know about that thing? Creepy if you ask me. The damned thing has a face and everything. The weird part is... I don't know why I always get this weird feeling like I know it.. him.. whatever. It's probably just paranoia or some other stupid shit, but I can't help it for some reason." 

Sans didn't respond, dwelling on this whole idea of a living, talking flower. It made him wonder if Frisk had encountered this flower as well... This would definitely need to be investigated further. For now however, they needed to head to Dusty's. He was starving, and needed to see if the man knew anything about Frisk. If not, then it was off to the new store Tem had just put up to rival his brother's. He shook his head, now wondering what it was exactly that started that whole feud between them to begin with.  

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Hours earlier...)

As she walked, Frisk kept finding herself needing to stop. For some strange reason, every few minutes she would feel woozy before a blinding white light would take over her vision for mere moments. Finally, she sat on a bench until the worst of it seemed to pass. Just up ahead, she spotted a glowing save star hovering just over the bridge and knew that needed to be her first stop. 

When she felt confident enough in her ability to both walk as well as see straight, the brunette rose and walked several feet while her shoes squished over the plastic-like grass below. Finally, she crossed over the cobble stone bridge, running her fingers over the thick marble railings, deep brown with lines of black, tan and a lighter version of the teal color of the turf on the ground. It was gorgeous, with both intricate as well as unique designs for each post that held the railing in place. The carvings were perfectly crafted into elegant swirls, loops and diamond like designs. Among others, of course, that were just as lovely. In all her life, Frisk had never seen something so beautifully made. Whoever created this bridge truly loved their work to have created something like this with such in depth detail, which must have taken him, or her, a very long time. Even the cobblestones were each different colors to mimic that of the railings, which only complimented the crystalline blue of the water below in a way that was breathtaking. 

Soon, the glow of the star began to surround her, but before it could, a figure grabbed her and pulled her aside. Nearly jumping out of her skin, Frisk whirled and came face to face with a man she'd never met.... 

..... and yet.

He was dressed in a maroon and black vest, embroidered with different shaped swirls along with a black suit shirt beneath. A puffed out black cravat sat perfectly between the V of his vest, tied loosely around and at the front of his neck which nearly covered it entirely. Draped over everything was a large, black velvet looking cape with a high collar, the inner lining a maroon that matched the embroidery of his vest. Upon his legs were long black pants, finished with rather fancy dress shoes. That, however, wasn't what truly stuck out about him. No... that honor belonged to the white, half-faced mask he used that reminded her greatly of something from Phantom Of The Opera. Only he wore a large-brimmed fedora of sorts that shadowed much of the other half not covered by the mask. He must have been using it as a disguise, she assumed. The one and only detail she could notice that he'd obviously been using the mask to cover, which now betrayed him, was the small bit of a crack she could see just over his eye socket.