The sun was cold.
The trees' leaves had fallen.
The people's smiles were grey, detached. Hard.
Their eyes of stone matched that of the blood-stained ground beneath them.
Cold. Fallen. Grey. Hard.
They had done it.
But at what cost?
G's eyes were unfocused, dim glass balls that had stopped shining after the fifth or sixth bottle.
So far removed, he couldn't even hear the bottle smash when it slipped from his numb fingers. The feeling had left them soon enough.
Downstairs, the house was silent, no monster residing there after G had kicked them all out. Grillby stayed though, despite his screams. He wouldn't leave so easily, not like the others when the first glass was thrown.
He sighed. How had it come to this? Picking up another glass, he wiped it clean as the hot white almond shapes of his eyes surveyed the room. It was a mess. Something like the noise of a fire spitting sparks left his mouth as he glanced at the broken chairs and tables. More replacements were needed, but when that would be possible, he didn't know. Not now, and not for a while he guessed.
They had done it.
But at what cost?
Everything, Grillby thought to himself.
He remembered when the missile went off; the sound could be heard even from the bunker beneath the Capital Building. The monsters eyes around him went wide, a baby started crying, and Grillby felt his soul quiver with fear. But he believed in his friends, he knew they would prevail. And they did. But why did it feel like they hadn't?
Another crash from upstairs told Grillby that G was not okay. He wasn't surprised. He still had flashbacks and jarring thoughts from the Great War before the monsters were forced to flee to the Underground, but that was years ago. Now, the city had new trauma to deal with.
The citizens had been told to find shelter in the Capital Building if their homes had been destroyed, or if their homes weren't damaged at all they could go. Most had been refused when they tried to return home or salvage their belongings from the dangerous areas- it simply wasn't safe yet. Grillby was lucky that his residence or area hadn't been touched by the humans, that he could go home and try to find some sense of normalcy in the aftermath of the chaos.
Sighing, he stopped. Glancing out the window he marvelled at the Winter sun that flooded into the room, dappling the cobble outside in liquid gold.
He had to keep his hope that the city would recover, that they would be able to move on from such a blow. He had to.
-------x---xx---------
"Alphys!" Undyne yelled, running up the steps four at a time. The yellow dinosaur-like monster jumped, looking desperately for her lover's voice. Finally, she spotted her- it was hard not too with her radiant ruby hair flowing out behind her.
"U-Undyne!" She yelped as Undyne scooped her up into her arms. They laughed together as Undyne whirled her around, only setting her down after a few seconds. "Y-You're hurt!" Alphys exclaimed, and she wasn't wrong. Undyne gazed down at her, a huge grin on her face despite the bruises and burns that littered and scarred her electric blue skin. She had left the medical attendance line when she realised all the monsters had started leaving the bunker. It wasn't particularly safe just yet, but they knew all the humans had gone. No one could hold G back or any of the monsters after Y/n... after Y/n...
"W-What's wrong, U-Undyne?" Alphys said, watching as her partner's features fell. Sadness pricked at her soul, appearing on her face with ease.
"We lost..." She cleared her throat. "We lost.. Y/n." Alphys' face fell.
"W-We... lost, her?" she mumbled, her wide eyes finding the ground. Undyne said nothing, her eyes glassy. Instead she kneeled down and wrapped her arms around Alphys, biting her lip as Alphys began to weep into her shoulder. She closed her eyes.
-----x--x-x---x-------
Papyrus looked out at the City from inside the throne room, the stained-glass windows illuminated by the sun's light. His cape was torn, the age of the item finally showing, and his bones were tired. Closing his eyes, he breathed a sigh of relief as the sun's dying light passed over his dirty skull, feeling the ache of his soul when he exhaled. There were paths of tears on his cheekbones, silvery lines that cascaded down to his jawbone but not noticeable by first glance. He sighed, long and hard.
They did it, but the cost was great. The number of good lives lost out there yesterday was... Immense. Uncountable. They as a race had achieved something that they had been longing for, dreaming for years and years stuck in the suffocating place of the Underground- freedom. Liberty. Papyrus was overjoyed, a sense of pride running through his metaphorical veins that couldn't be matched. However, it was miserably accompanied by the simplicity of grief, a sort of numbing sadness that too could not be matched.
"Pa... Papyrus?" A soft voice sounded behind him, stirring him to move. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Toriel, a concerned expression on her face.
"Your majesty," Papyrus greeted her, bowing. She laughed quietly, shaking her head.
"I told you a long, long time ago that formalities weren't necessary," she smiled, walking over to him.
"Did King Asgore inform you of the battle's events?" he said, instead of apologising.
"Yes, he... he did." Toriel looked out of the window, her gaze fixed on something much more faraway than the city outside. "She will be dearly missed," Toriel sniffed, clasping her hands in front of her. Papyrus nodded slowly, his eyeline lowering as he thought back to that moment: when the missile struck and all in the square were frozen. He remembered the expression on his brother's face, and his soul ached.
"She will. Like no other," he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment.
"I will be attending to the injured outside the building, if you should need me Papyrus," Toriel said, looking over to him. He did not look back, his eye-lights focused on the far houses at the East end of the city.
"Thank you, Toriel," he eventually muttered, and she left the room. He watched her go, then returned his gaze to the setting sun, one singular tear running down his cheek.
--x-x-x----------
The fading sunlight was liquid jewels on the worn down floorboards, the dust particles floating about the room. Like a halo around him, shards of glass lay, broken bottles scattered across the floor.
His chest was heaving, his 'throat' sore from the screams that had been ripped from his throat, and he paused, looking at the mess around him- the mess he had made. He staggered when he moved, lurching towards the door with a swimming vision that refused to settle. Then the door opened and there stood Grillby, a dustpan and brush in his glowing hands.
"G?" he said softly, his voice warm and cautious. G regarded him vaguely, but he was blurry and too confusing for G to register. "G, you're drunk, sit down," Grillby sighed, stepping into the dimly lit room. G grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back, surprising his friend. "G...?"
"Get... get out," G leered, his words meshing together. He couldn't hear himself, was that him?
"G you need to sit do-"
"I said GET OUT!" he yelled, throwing a lazy punch at Grillby, who easily dodged it. G groaned, scraping his face, a harsh sound like nails on a chalkboard. Grillby turned and set the dust pan and brush down, before facing his friend again, a look of pain on his features. He said nothing, instead gripping G's shoulder and steering him back to his shoulder. It creaked under his weight and G batted at the air, as if trying to shove Grillby off.
"No. I'm goin'... out ther-" G's rambling was suddenly cut off as he disappeared. Grillby froze, his soul hammering. G had teleported away. Where to, Grillby had no idea.
-----x-x-x-------
The clearing was dark except for the moonlight that peered through some faraway clouds, sending a silvery light down into the dead leaves that hung like cobwebs on their brittle branches. G appeared, dysphoric and exhausted. The sudden use of his magic had him collapsing to the ground. He groaned, sinking his fingers into the earth as he tried to get up, as he tried to stop his world from spinning.
How had it come to this?
His thoughts were a mess as he tried to push through the clouds of his drunkenness. To no avail- G slumped over, sending a final gaze to the stars above him as he passed out.
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