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They didn't expect to wander around Hometown after leaving the dark world. Or maybe they should've, what with having a second passenger along for the ride. And said passenger is currently dragging them around to talk to monsters. It could be worse though, right?
Kris doesn't know what to think about this presence though. Despite the events of today they don't really know what the soul is like. So what if they spared the enemies? Outlasted the King? Twirled and defended to pacify Jevil rather than attack? That doesn't say much about them as..whatever they are. Everyone has layers to them.
"On the house, hun." A cup is set on the counter, and within the next second is greedily snatched by eager hands.
At least there's hot chocolate to tide them over while the soul exhausts itself.
Kris takes small sips as their feet lead them out and away the diner. So far their neighbors were visited, Alphys was found in the alley, and ICE-E'S P"E"ZZA had a brief visitor before now. It's a weird pattern honestly, but whatever.
The soul brings them to the Librarby and does some minimal poking about. There's no attempt to talk with Berdly, which is fine by them. They'd rather not be reminded of an unreturned book again anyways. Temmie is an..interesting character, with a very keen focus on demons in stories. Kris doesn't see the appeal. Jockington isn't terrible to chat with either, but his choice in what to print leaves much to be desired.
Annoying, they hear, when they come up to the hunched bird monster blocking the second floor. It doesn't sound..surprised by this, though, or angry. More acknowledging than anything else.
They are turned around, back going stiff at the motion, and walk to the entrance. Weirdo, Kris thinks. The cup is held close as their free hand is shot out to push open one of the doors.
Eyes trace the passing buildings to know where they're going. At first they assumed Town Hall or even the church based on how close they were, but both are ignored.
Ah, they realize, as the graveyard comes into view around the corner. But why? There's nothing cool in a graveyard. Well, maybe in a bigger one there would be, but not this tiny thing.
Past the iron fence and row of gravestones sits a bench. They are brought to it, and made to sit down. The numbness gradually lifts, but they are still confused.
Okay? Kris doesn't understand why they were brought here. They cough into a hand, and ask, "Any reason for us to be here?"
Silence. It extends for a while. Is the soul even aware they asked it a question? Is it..asleep? Can it happen whenever?
I just thought this would be a nice place for you to relax. It feels..peaceful here. This is the softest the voice has ever been so far, although it did make them jump a little at first to hear. You haven't communicated much to me so I'm trying to parse what I can.
Something about the phrasing makes Kris bristle. "I'm not some puzzle."
Could've fooled me. You certainly act like it. Dry and quick to snark. They are definitely different from this morning. When did it change?
Memories from the fight in that carnival top plane of existence bubble to the surface. During one loop they tripped and lost momentum, causing their right hand to be caught under a carousel horse. There was a terrifying, and painful CRUNCH! that made Kris scream. Susie risked the distance to help them, only to end up downed in the process.
Another loop, they were torn up by a Devilsknife they couldn't avoid in time. It felt like they had been hollowed out. For just a moment they saw Susie's reaction before they were whisked away. It was not a good one.
They've been sliced by clovers, pierced by spades, and pummeled by hearts. Sometimes to death and others lingered long enough to force them down. It was always painful, but at least death made the pain brief.
...Kris.. Kris. It's quiet again, but insistent this time.
They feel their breath tremble on an inhale, and swallow before humming to let it know they've heard. Silence follows, just long enough for them to get their breathing under control. When the voice surfaces again, Kris can identify it is trying to be casual. They don't want to think about why.
Are you going to drink your hot chocolate?
Kris moves their gaze from the trees in the distance down to their cup. Hands quickly slack their tight grip, but the damage is already done. They forgot they were still holding it, and their throat is now parched.
Kris takes a gulp from the now oblong shape, and not because they were suddenly reminded. Their mouth scrunches in regret when they register it is no longer warm. "Ew, cold."
Is it really that bad now? Confusion, and maybe a bit of amusement. It makes their chest act a little funny.
"Obviously? What, can't you taste it too?" They upend the cup away from them to tip out the remaining liquid into the grass. Now they have an empty cup they don't know what to do with and the nearest garbage can is back at Town Hall. They don't really want to get up and go back yet.
I can't taste what you eat and drink, kid.
Kris's lips part, but nothing comes out. What? Are they serious?
They try to speak again, leaning back. The words come out mumbled. "So all that food in the dark world.. You couldn't?" That's actually unfortunate. They deliberately skip over the last word, interest getting the better of any fluttering annoyance.
Nope! Despite the clear loss, they don't sound heartbroken. Makes it kind of hard to tell if you really like something or if you're simply bearing it because you have to heal. Or because I made the choice for you.
Kris waggled their free hand, eyes aiming upward to the red-orange clouds in the sky. "If I hate a food or drink you will know quickly."
Pulling themself forward, they force their body to stand up from the bench. "Anyways, we've been sitting long enough."
A vague sensation hovers in the back of their mind, weighted but also not. As if it can be heavier, but is purposefully not being so just for them. To the best of their ability it feels like a touch in a roundabout way. The entity cannot enact any true physical action unless it uses any of their limbs and from what they can tell they are enabled complete control in this moment, with nary a trace of immobility.
Did it help at least? Being here?
"..Sort of." They shrug a shoulder and ponder if the soul can see or feel it. Since they can't taste anything, does it mean everything else about their senses is different? Certainly puts a lot of what they experienced with them into perspective. "You're a weirdo for caring."
And you're a weirdo for eating moss, but hey I'm not complaining. Everyone has their quirks.
"Idiot," they say, and start walking back down the path.
Whatever you say. The soul sounds as if it's far too amused by this and not at all offended by the insult. Can I talk to more monsters?
Kris arrives at the church and doesn't see Alvin nearby, nor is the stained glass lit up with light from the inside. He must have closed up a while ago.
"Sure, why not?" They shrug and cross over to chuck the styrofoam cup into the garbage bin. There's a floral scent already wafting from inside. "It's not like my reputation isn't already in shambles."
Kris rubs at their chest and ignores the warmth there. It's just the soul being strange, that's all.
Later, when it's night and there's a suspicious gleam across their room in the darkness, they ignore how one arm is wrapped across their midsection in the mimicry of a hug. It's better to disregard than accept. So Kris shuts their eyes and wills sleep to come soon.