Chapter Text
There is blood splatter on the pretty yellow flowers. Dandelions? No, they’re Buttercups. Still fresh like they have bloomed this morning. The scent however does not help the pounding pain gushing through their head. Kris takes note of their surroundings, an empty space, a cave? With those pretty little flowers, there petals tangle in their hair.
Kris’s brother would like them, freshly picked and in a vase in their shared tallboy in the middle of their room. Always fake tulips in it unless they’d found fresh flowers to place in it on their way back home together. There been nothing on the dresser as of late.
A stool sits in one of the dark corners, looks like it has been a well-beloved napping spot. Beside that nothing. Nothing but their banged-up, alive self. With a slight concussion and a good cut on their head. Kris wince when they touch the cut, doesn’t feel too deep, their lucky that the flowers were there to break their fall.
Kris sighs as they untie a piece of their bandage from their right arm and ties around their head. It is all used up. Their knife has the decency to still be with them.
They stand up and stumble. Wooziness rushes through them but Kris is stable enough to walk. It’s so dark, the only light is shining on those pretty yellow flowers. Even with that outside sun is half-hardy glimmering through the little gaps of the border. It stagnated and wrong.
They go further in the cave, past mount of dirt. In line with their luck today, Kris trips on some roots. Their left shoulder and hands took the brunt of the fall; they can feel the sting of small cut and grazes through their hands. The dizziness returns and the bandage looseness a bit, they can feel drip of blood slowly going down their head. Kris looks around, it is darker than the room with the Buttercups and they struggle to see. They think they see more golden flowers but they can’t focus on it.
They are panting like a dog, kneeling and it takes a few moments to psyche themselves to get back up. A sharp pain flushes through Kris’s body and they roll their left shoulder back a few times but they press on, walking to at least lighter parts of the cave. There are structures and buildings all in disarray but the lamps and torches are freshly lit. Kris keeps a tight grip on their knife’s handle.
There is a bright sparkle, stagnated light in the midst of the ruins. Maybe the awe of these buildings is hitting them, these secrets and stories lost to time. But the structures and foundation are not forgotten. That will of potential reusable economic housing fills Kris with a strange emotion. They hold the railing for the stairs tightly, as they climb it. Each step causing jolt of pain through their body, their provisional vision is going black. Maybe they do have a concussion or fracture something. Fuck that second fall didn’t help.
Footsteps start to fill the space and Kris can feel their breathing shorten. They pull out their knife, ready. A creature comes out one of the passage ways. It is so tall that Kris has to tilt their head back. It looks goat like with it horns and fur but beside the fact it has clothes and walking on its hind legs, it regards Kris in a kind manner. It comes closer and they back away slowly. Kris's back hits the stairs rail.
‘Oh, do not be afraid my child, I will not harm you.’ The goat creature said in a soft voice.
‘I am so sorry that no one was there to greet you, how very odd.’ She trails off, muttering the last part to herself.
‘I am Toriel, one of the caretakers of the underground. Oh, my dear, are you hurt.’
She gestures to their head, almost touches it but stops themselves.
‘What is your name my child?’
Kris tries to answer but their mouth feels like chalk. Where were they again? What were they doing? Kris can feel themselves going to the ground, a hand instinctively reaching out to the handrail to break the fall. Their body is shaking but they keep a tight grip on their knife. Kris closes their eyes but it gives the pain in their head only slight relief. Softness engulfs them, and a voice (whose voice is it again?) telling them not to fall asleep. They ignore and allow the darkness to take them.
---
They see their brother smiling at them, green sparkles leave his fingertips. They gasp and both watch wordless until the magic runs out. It never went away for long. Kris see their brother wearing their new robes from the academy, their mum fussing with them while he made annoyed faces in the mirror. Kris planted on the floor, hides their laughter watching him. They see letters with splodge ink marks and chopped hair and promises that no one kept. Kris screams as they watch as their brother get consume by the ground, dirt and flowers take his place. Kris follows suit, the roots creeping along their legs, because they are a good younger sibling and the fall will make it quick.
---
Kris throat feels like they swallow sawdust and somehow their mouth is worse. They struggle to open their eyes. Too bright, and the world is still spinning. They feel someone warm hand on their right shoulder, and voice like honey tells them to drink. Kris doesn’t argue and drink greedily from the cup. Relief pools through their body. Their eyes adjust to the monster. She looks familiar but who is it. Roial? The confusion must have been plainly on their face because the monster begins her spiel.
‘I’m Toriel, the caretaker of the ruins, I take care of all the fallen humans, you are in my home.’
Toriel take the empty cup from Kris and continues.
‘Humans tend to respond differently to our healing magic, so there was only so much I can do, especially with a head injury but you will live. With time and patience, you will get better.’
Kris blinks rapidly.
‘You’re actually real, there really are monsters here.’
Toriel looks baffle.
‘Why of course, where else would we be?’ She stands and picks up the glass. Toriel looks over Kris closely.
‘I'll get you some soup; you will feel better with a full stomach.’
She walks out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Kris can hear muffle voices down the hall outside. They can’t deceiver any of it.
They sit up and run their hand over the bed sheet, it’s soft. Their hands are clean without any of the cuts. Kris can feel their left shoulder is still a bit sore but nothing like the pain it was before and nothing compare to the pain to their head. Their eyes glaze around the room, simple and childlike but neat and fresh. Their knife has been polished and is sitting on the bedside table, next to a lamp with cartoon drawing of clouds. It’s safe and warm, Kris has a feeling that if anyone else had found them…
Huh just their luck.
---
The next few days were slow. Hazing in and out of sleep, only broken when Toriel comes in and feeds them, or if they feeling particularly adventurous, take them for a warm bath. But they mainly dream - mostly of their brother, which left them panicking and jolting awake. But other times it would be random, kids younger than them, scared and alone. Once they dreamt of a monster and a human playing. It left Kris feeling hollow afterwards.
Like Toriel said, with time and patience they got better. Kris could stay awake longer, walk around and follow conversations. They left the room to explore a very homely home. Kris meets Sans, Toriel’s roommate who makes her laugh till she crying and howling. Kris has barely cracked a smile around him. But he keeps mainly to himself and apparently, he has been extra quiet around them while they been recovering. A peculiar but harmless skeleton if anything else.
They are not permitted to leave the house, supposedly they will once Kris is fully recovered. In the meantime, they given a couple books to see if they can read again (apparently, they had failed that test in one of their bits of alertness).
It's similar to the type of books Kris’s brother studied to, detailing the war between monster and human and the properties of the magic barrier. Unlike his brother’s books, this one retells the tale like the author was there, there is a finality to the words that is hard to describe. It took Kris a lot longer than they expect to read it but they did manage.
Kris shuts the book with a satisfying thump and they look over at Toriel, absorb in her own novel. Kris allows themselves to stare at her for a moment, watching the light of the fireplace reflect from her white fur. Her face calm, eyes concentrate on the words. Peaceful, that’s the word, been a while since Kris felt this feeling. Her eyes flick up and meet Kris’s and hums in acknowledgment.
‘Is it really true, the war? It’s folklore among us.’
Toriel gives a dark chuckle. Kris cringes for asking such a stupid question.
‘Funny what time does, guess it has been a while…’ She trails off deep in thought. Toriel shuts her book and her hand creeps up to cup her face.
‘I fought in it.’
Kris eyebrows shot up, eyes wide. They must look like an owl.
‘It was long and brutal; I mainly just remember the smell. Blood and dust.’ Toriel looks away intensely, staring at nothing in particular. Kris looks up, like maybe they could catch a glimpse of the barrier but they only see the white ceiling, a bit of the paint at the right corner has chipped off.
‘Um Toriel I…’
‘Enough of that, I’m just an old lady my memory isn’t as good and besides I’m not particularly great at answering this sort of thing. Maybe Gerson will visit soon, he’ll answer any questions. Plus, he is very knowledgeable about the barrier and the prophecy.’ Toriel stands up.
Kris tries to mumble something, anything.
‘Oh, Kris are you hungry? It has been a while since I made a pie, I’ll make you one.’
She ruffles Kris’s head as she passed them to the kitchen. They lay down flat on the floor, allowing their hand to glides back and forth over the cool flooring. Kris feels the need to nap; they can sense a headache forming.