Living Tales [DISCONTINUED]

Fresh - Cornered, Scared, Very Talkative

All he wanted, at that moment, more than anything else, was to feel safe.

But that wasn't currently possible.

After all, the only way would be for his mother-brother to remember him, but a millennium had passed and his mother-brother still didn't seem to remember. Sometimes, he would do something that made Fresh hope, but that small hope was always extinguished when he still didn't remember.

Fresh tried to drop by as much as possible, trying to kick start his mother-brother's memory, but his mother-brother seemed to hate him, despise his being and feel only disgust for him. It... hurt. As much as he could feel that.

Uncle-brother didn't snap out of his insanity induced rage when mother-brother disappeared, he came to only when Death had appeared for Fresh, and he fought him off, managing to open a portal to a random AU to protect him. Uncle-brother fought Death while he was in that AU, Underfresh, and the Sans of that AU found him. Self-preservation overtook the small shin and somehow his small underdeveloped SOUL wrapped itself around the older Monster and he found himself looking through the Sans' eyesockets.

The fight between Death and his uncle-brother halted when they noticed what had happened, and his uncle-brother rushed over to him, checking him over to see if everything was working right. His original body has dusted and the only thing keeping him alive was the body he was occupying.

His Host, as he started to call them, dusted after sometime but this time, Death helped him find a new Host. Death had fallen in love with his uncle-brother and was trying to get in his good graces by helping. Geno, as he learned his uncle-brother was named, refused to name him, wanting his mother-brother to name him when he returned. Death suggested using the name of his first Host until his mother-brother came back, and he agreed, since they needed something to call him.

Geno had somehow managed to meet with his mother-brother, and that had caused him to remember Geno. He had tried to mention Fresh, but the moment any mention of him passed his uncle-brother's mouth, his mother-brother left.

He knew how bad it must look, he was practically stalking Error after all. But while sometimes he checked on him because he wanted to know if he remembered, most of the time he just needed to be near him. Error's magic calmed him down every time he felt a breakdown approaching. His Hosts had to be kept somewhat alive for him to get nourishment, but they were eternally suffering, and while he wasn't able to care about that, they were always so LOUD.

And that's how he got into this situation. Nightmare and his gang had cornered him, and he could feel his anxiety levels rising, something that Nightmare probably felt beneath all the layers of suffering from his current Host, since he immediately started interrogating him.

"Tell us why you have been stalking and harassing Error these past centuries." Nightmare demanded, but when Fresh didn't answer, his grin widens and he nodded to Dust.

A bone attack pierced Fresh's ribcage and pinned him to the wall behind him. Fresh's eyelight disappeared from behind his glasses, his SOUL started to glow in his eyesocket, and his wound started to heal around the attack, the glow fading once it couldn't heal anymore.

Nightmare's eyelight narrowed slightly and he leaned forward. "What are you doing?" he demanded, looking down at him.

"Nothing, broski, nothing. Say, maybe you could, like, call your minions off or something? Ya know how it is; people to see, food to eat. Food doesn't eat itself ya know?" Fresh tried to remember how to use slang, but Nightmare's increasingly more successful attempts to have his aura affect him started to wear him down, too much of his concentration going into not breaking down. Fresh wasn't normally affected by Nightmare's aura, but now that it was starting to build up, and Fresh realised that if he didn't manage to leave right now, his emotions would overwhelm him, not being used to intense emotions. Or, you know, more than 20%, and his emotions seemed to have arrived at 120%.