((Well, here we are! A new chapter, and might I say I enjoyed writing this one more than you can possibly imagine. I'm hoping you enjoy reading it as well. I'm so thankful for all of you guys who are still here (I can't say that enough), and everything I do when it comes to this story, I do for you. I won't ramble to keep myself from going into spoilers. XD
Alright, so this chapter is going to be technically split up into two segments, and I'll try to get the second one out over the rest of the weekend.
Okay. Song for this chapter:
Artist: (I'm actually unsure, but I will look into it to find the actual composer.)
Song: Promise (Reprise)
Link: http://listenonrepeat.com/?v=TAgjyN9Bo4Y#Silent_Hill_2_Promise_Reprise_(Extended)
I love you guys SO much, and as always, I truly hope you all enjoy. <3))
"All that we see or seem......
Is but a dream within a dream." -Edgar Allen Poe
Frisk struggled. Oh, how she struggled to wake up. Her eyelids felt like they were attached to ten ton weights, dragging her down to keep her trapped within the hell that she may never escape. Maybe something else would move. She wiggled a few of her fingers, and because she could feel the motion, slowly lifted her hands to her face and rubbed. When she tried again, success came in flecks of sleep cracking away like cement as vision filled the prior darkness. Unfortunately, Frisk soon realized that the victory was a hollow one when she looked around. She was in another wood, dark and eerie. Looking down at her hand, gripping the Polaroid image of her and Chara, she slid it into her back pocket before taking another careful look around. "Hello?..." She called out, but there was no response. It appeared to be the same wood that she'd been walking through with Sans, but a more nightmarish version. "Sans?..." her voice was strained and hoarse, like she'd been screaming for hours. It hurt to call out so loudly, and didn't reward her with a response either. Lifting her gaze, tree branches appeared to lurch at her like the claws of a monster....
....Monster. She'd have to refrain from using that word in a negative sense from now on. Sans was a monster, but nothing like what humans define them as. He was sweet and kind.... and she'd come to adore him. Maybe even love him. Wait... did... did she love him? Is that what this feeling was? Much as she wanted to delve into that thought, something else was far more important that she had to deal with right now. No... what Frisk was more concerned about at the moment was the glade she was in, why she was alone, and why there appeared to be a creepy looking cottage off in the distance. The only light came from holes in what appeared to be darkened canvas atop the ceiling, dulling the color of the grass so that it almost looked gray in contrast to the rest of the blackened forest floor. The brown of the tree bark was nearly black, and as she rose, Frisk could have sworn the branches... had they just... retracted? No. It must have been her eyes playing tricks. Still.... They did seem to be farther away.
Now that she was standing, several yards away, a very small bog became visible. Within this bog however, there were no animals. No sounds, and no movement. It somehow looked more like glass now, mirroring everything that surrounded it within the still of the night. Nothing at all made any sort of movement, save for she herself. Even the grass seemed to hold it's breath in the wake of her presence. When she made to walk away from the cottage, her body slapped into... something. Frisk could see straight ahead of her through the large wood as clear as the rest of the glade, but when a hand came up to try and extend forward, it was stopped by that same invisible force. Running a hand across the smooth surface, she began to walk, continuing to touch it until it almost seemed to come to a corner. Like she was in a giant box with hardened, translucent walls. At the other side of the bog was the wall of a mountain, so there was no going that way. The only remaining thing to inspect....
The cottage.
Just as the thought entered her mind, a light flickered within the single window that sat not too far from the door. Carefully, Frisk started toward it, blades of grass grazing her ankles like fingers slipping softly past in their feeble attempts at grabbing her. Upon reaching the small set of two steps, the cottage became easier to see. Old wood stacked upon itself log by log, warped in places with rot, just like the door. Each corner seemed to have been gnawed at. Likely by age. Her thoughts were interrupted as the door itself began quietly creaking, opening just enough that light peered through a crack as if inviting her in. Steeling herself, one foot rose to the first stair, which groaned under her weight. She winced. "C'mon, Frisk. Be brave. Stay Determined. You can do this." She said inwardly in spite of the frightened tears that were now tracing lines around her lashes. Blinking them away, she took yet another step onto the dilapidated deck, squishing under her heels with the few steps she took. Her expression contorted into a grimace at the sound. The wood that made this deck. This cottage. It had to be ancient, and it must have weathered many storms to be in such condition she realized. The knob was covered in moss, and soft under her hand as she grabbed and pulled gently. First, only her head peered inside. "Hello?" she stated again, sounding almost like a broken record. "Anyone home?" No answer came. Feeling a little better about the situation, her desperately fluttering heart began to slow.
Frisk slid her body into the confines of the tiny cottage and pulled the door gently behind her. It squealed softly before she heard the snick and knew it'd been closed completely. The cottage looked even smaller from the inside, but quaint. It consisted of just the one room, which was completely coated in moss and vines. Spots of bricks could be seen around the fireplace off to one side with an old but comfortable looking blue chair in front of it. If someone was sitting in the chair, Frisk couldn't tell. The back was tall and the seat itself was wide with large, cushioned armrests. In the middle of the room was a small round table with two rickety chairs at either side, a tiny cooking stove off in another corner next to a wash basin. Everything was shrouded in shadow, save for the tiny candle that flickered dimly in the middle of the small table. There was a pile of knitted blankets on the side of the chair farthest from Frisk's eyesight. "I-is... is anyone in here? I'm sorry to disturb you. I.. I'm lost." The lonely candle in the room blazed brightly, and it's once yellowish glow turned a deep sapphire. Even the flame itself was blue. Recoiling, Frisk took a step back toward the door, fully poised to grab that handle and run. Where, she had no idea, but fear had an iron grip on her body at the moment and it clouded all rational thought.
"There is no need to be afraid, Girl. You are in no danger here." A small voice sounded from the direction of the large chair and Frisk felt her breath hitch. "I.. I'm sorry for t-trespassing, Ma'am." she said, stumbling over her words as they tumbled from her mouth. "You have not trespassed here, Girl. It was I who brought you to this place on the planes of existence that teeter between two worlds within your mind. You, my dear, are quite a fascinating specimen." came the voice again. Another candle flickered to life atop the mantle. After squinting at it for a moment, however, Frisk soon realized it wasn't a candle at all. Instead, she saw only a floating ball of white light that illuminated movement from the chair as a small figure emerged and filled the space where moments ago, there'd been nothing. Looking more like the clawed tree limbs from outside rather than hands, one reached for a tall staff leaning against the wall and the old woman finally turned toward Frisk. She started at the sight initially, hand instinctively moving to her mouth first as she attempted to stifle a gasp, then to her chest where she clutched while trying not to ogle the sight. Brown skin that appeared more like tree bark ran down to her chin. A long nose that could have also been wood, jutted out from the middle of the woman's face. She had moss for eyebrows and yellowish corn kernel teeth scattered sparingly within her mouth. Several on the bottom overlapped her invisible lips as they continued to remain visible even when the woman closed her mouth. Atop her head was a wild, tangled mass of thick gray hair that seemed to spray out from her head and flow in matted tufts down to her shoulders.
The woman's entire body looked very much like a tree stump, covered from chest to thighs in a blue nightgown, torn and tattered at the bottom. Her arms were long and spindly, ending in claw-tipped fingers that became nearly invisible when lowered. One hand still gripped the staff-like cane at her side as her large, stumpy bare feet clambered toward Frisk, who was desperately grasping at the dwindling courage that showed much more on her face than what she was feeling inside.
"You are Frisk, are you not?" Crooned the old woman who finally stepped close enough for Frisk to gasp again. Her eyes... Black, hallowed pits of darkness. No iris. No lines on her face to encircle them. They were simply there, sharing their shadows with the rest of her face. Mossy eyebrows drew slightly together, appearing to scrutinize as they traveled over Frisk's entire body. "Well?" The old woman finally snapped, making Frisk jump slightly. "Y-yes, ma'am. But.... why am I here, and who are you?"
Shaking her head, the bark faced woman shook her head and brought one clawed hand to her forehead. "You seriously haven't figured that out?" Her condescension made Frisk frown, slightly aggravated now, but didn't speak. Irritated as she might be, this crone still frightened her insanely, and pressing the woman.... pissing her off even, might not be the greatest idea.
"I am the Oracle." the words bounced from one mental wall to the next, sinking in as hazel eyes rose to meet the whirling midnight pits in front of her. "How... I don't understand. We were on our way to see you." Frisk stated, but the old woman only nodded her head. "I know, which is why I came to you. This world... it hangs on the brink of existence for you, and if the scale is tipped even the slightest bit in the wrong direction, everything could be destroyed. That, girl, is why I am here. I used this place.... This.. 'pocket' in your mind to help guide you onto the path you need to follow. "
Now entirely confused, Frisk only stared at the woman a moment. "But... I need to know. Who is Chara, and why do I continue to black out in the real world? In.. my world. Why is all of this happening to me? I mean, is this... Is-.." She choked on the words before they forcibly came out. "Is... Sans real?"
Mossy eyebrows shot together. "That brainless bag of bones doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't realize that everything he's been doing in all the timelines has only made things worse... Made... Him... stronger."
Brunette waves spilled over her shoulder as Frisk cocked her head. "It made Sans stronger?"
"No! You're just as blind and dimwitted as he is." The oracle turned as if to pace the floor. "Nevermind. These are all things that you must figure out with time, and I only hope you do for you and that thick headed skeleton are the only hope now that this world has."
"I am... so utterly confused right now. Please.. please tell me who Chara is." Her voice softened... became small and meek toward the end, as if almost fearing the answer. The oracle turned, smiling in a way that made the hairs on Frisk's arms stand straight up. "Are you sure you really want to know?" she drawled, and the slight curve at that wooden mouth...
Frightened nausea roiled, then a nod. "Yes... I need to know."
"Chara, dear girl, is your sister." The Oracle stopped, seemingly allowing the information to sink in. "She is the yin to your yang. Flesh made and joined within the same womb, yet you both lay on opposites sides of the coin."
Tears clung to Frisk's eyes now, pulling the Polaroid from her pocket to stare at it. How hadn't she figured it out before? Chara wasn't mirroring her image to frighten her. She was her mirror image.
"She's my-..."
"Twin, yes." the Oracle finished the sentence for her. "But don't let me spoil it. Let her tell you for herself." she drawled again, and the woman's smirk widened farther as a hand rose, claws extending. Frisk could hear a few words being murmured before everything in the room faded away. Now, left standing in the center of a singular stream of light amidst nothing but dark, those tears blurred her vision. They rolled in steady streams, dripping one after the other from her chin to the floor below.
"You always were the weaker one."