Blindtale - Chapter 7 - Melted glass, Memories, and Weaknesses

Frisk took a shallow breath of the ice infused air that burned her throat. The wind continued, unmercifully lashing her back with icy gusts of wind. Her frozen numb legs, buried within the swelled snow, were as heavy as lead and would no longer move her forward, not that she cared in the slightest. Frisk clenched her teeth as clumps of loose snow buried her legs further. Even though the snow was knee high, it was trying to swallow her.

Yo, are you ok?" A voice called out, however his words were broken by the storm and fell upon deaf ears.

Frigid air whipped around Frisk's huddled body, overwhelming the little heat of her soul. She clutched her body as her chest began to twist into horrible knots, her body spasmed as a belt lash of wind struck her exposed back. Frisk cried in pain, pulling her flying shirt down. Frisk continued to sit on knees, despite the snow burning through her flesh, she just didn't have enough willpower to keep going. Even if she got up now and faced the fierce storm, she couldn't find a logical reason. She'd be lying to herself if she thought she could escape the Underground.

Frisk's hand's let go of her shirt and slumped forward onto the ground, her hands clenched tightly into the fresh ice, her forehead lightly touched the ground (as if she was praying) while her body shook with grief. She missed John, the orphanage, the caretakers… but the feeling was one-sided. The caretakers would forget her, just as they always forgot the children they handed away like pamphlets. And John… wasn't the same as Frisk. He had other friends, lots of them, and could replace her with ease. As much as Frisk wanted to deny it, he would one day forget her when he grew up and met someone who would be able to fill his void. Someone who would mean much more to him than Frisk, someone he would know for longer, someone who wasn't so stupid! Another sob racked her hollow, frail body.

That's right… you have nothing to go back to, no home, no family, no friends. Continuing is pointless. Give me your soul and I promise it will be painless.

"No more!" Frisk screamed. "just-" Her voice gave out as she took a deep breath of air that was too thick with snow. She coughed hoarsely, a disgusting sound that sounded like she was vomiting. Stinging hydroperoxide tears dripped from her eyes, along with mucus that streamed from her nose, and thick saliva that was left on her mouth and chin after coughing. It felt like she was drowning in snow, each breath only invited more ice into her lungs. Frisk's body spasmed violently on her knees, to the point where her entire body was numb and overtaken by tremors. Frisk let go of her balance and let the wind pin her to the ground, only moving her head to the side to gasp for air.

"I… heard screaming..." a different, muffled voice broke her haze, and fear blazed through her eyes. This new voice was coming closer to her, although she couldn't hear his footsteps. The voice was shrill, similar to Papyrus's but different… or was it Papyrus and the wind was tricking her ears. Who was speaking? The question didn't last long, as another coughing fit shattered her resolve. She curled into a fetus, her breathing loud and ragged with fear.

"woah, dude you look terrible! ...You! You're from hotland… warm dusted right?" No go away… I don't want to die again. No more pain, please! Make it stop, please! She pleaded as her mind succumbed to her dissolutions.

"Du- dude! No no no no, get up!"

Then it is agreed.

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Graceful dancer of the room

Of walls that shimmer white gloom.

Determination servers as your guild,

As the time does bide.

Time does not yield, bend, nor break

Without consequences in its wake.

Graceful dancer of the room

Of oily steps, laced with doom.

Clumsy steps lead to your fall

And the oily steps seep into the wall.

With a growl, I slip closer to you

And whisper encouragements to start your dance anew

I stand back and watch

Baffled by the sweet scent of butterscotch.

As you begin your 'second' chance,

I see something change within your dance.

Something is missing, your dance has turned cold.

Something inside of you, was sold

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A familiar wave washed over Frisk mid cough. Her tightened chest, frozen appendages, and the salty tears that damped her face, were all gone. What wasn't missing, was sensation of life. Her body was numb, her mind was numb, and her chest was still of the constant hum and thump of her heart. It was a weird feeling, with no evidence of even existing, she still felt alive. As strength began to flow back into her limp body, she realized that she was lying back on something that wasn't snow. Frisk gasped sharply and sat up, running her palm against the thick, stringy, ground. It was grass, Frisk had no doubt, but as her hand ran further she felt something smooth and icy. The cold touch took her by surprise and she recoiled her hand for a few moments. It was quiet, but the silence wasn't comforting at all. She shifted to her knees and explored the patch of grass. It was small and circular, with just enough area for her body to lay on. Her breath shook as an ominous feeling shook her. She rose to her feet and touched her chest, expected to touch the familiar valentines heart, but it was missing.

Frisk moved her hands around her, reaching out for anything that would reassure her that she was not alone. Crisp air, while warmer than the storm she had experienced, was all that met her finger tips. "Hello?" she called out, however the only response was a single, fearful 'hello'. Her echo resonated for a few moments before dying out and leaving Frisk in eerie silence. Her hands shook as she took a step forward. As soon as her foot met the cool floor, she heard a sudden fit of laughter beneath her. She flinched, retreating onto her safe patch of grass as her hands quivvered. Once Frisk had managed to calm herself with a couple deep breaths and her own crazed (while calming) words, she realized that the laughter was friendly and welcoming, contrary to what she had immediately assumed. Summoning her courage, Frisk walked off her sanctuary circle to onto the weird hard floor.

A child's laughter, swelling with happiness and love was almost foreign to her ears. Unfortunately it had an opposite effect on Frisk as her breathing quickened and her mind began to fog with anxiety. That was, until a familiar voice interrupted the laughter.

"It's not funny, Frisk! The nurse wouldn't let me see you and kept telling me you were okay, but that's what all grown ups say when people die!" The young boy's voice was strangled and upset, opposed to the giddy laughter whom Frisk startlingly recognized as her own. Frisk's breath caught in her throat before being let out with a laugh-like cough. She dropped instantly to her knees to hear the voice she'd longed to hear for a very long time.

"I'm sorry John I-" Her laughter continued unmercifully, accompanied by a frustrated growl.

This sounds so familiar. Frisk's pondered, her mind slightly lethargic. In the lapse of silence, Frisk realized. This was memory from a year ago, when Frisk had consumed the buttercup flowers, expecting them to taste sweet. She was friends with John at the time but, what he had said to her after she had been released from the nurse...

It made her feel special. That despite whatever happened, she'd know for certain that one person cared about her. Frisk smiled as a light feeling bubbled in her chest.

Her memory's voices muffled considerably, but Frisk remembered what had followed her laughter. John had been upset with her afterward until he revealed why he held a grudge. John's father, who he considered his only parent since his mother was in prison, had fallen ill with a disease (Frisk couldn't remember the name). A disease that made his father bald. Everyone told John that he was going to be alright, that everything would go back to normal after they 'fixed' him. 'Everything was okay', or 'He's in safe hands', they'd tell him..

"They didn't fix him..." Frisk remembered John growling, his words laced with poison more potent than the Buttercups Frisk had ingested.

"...they broke him, and didn't know what to do with me… so they dumped me here. They apologized, but they didn't mean it. They didn't even know him!"

Frisk frowned ruefully. John rarely spoke about his parents, none of the orphans really did (including her), but Frisk could tell by his tone that John's dad was a great person. John was solemn the rest of the day, his grief even spread to her.

"One… Two… Three…" Frisk snapped from her dampened thoughts as her voice beneath her piped up again. "Four… Five… … SixSevenEightNineTen ready-or-not here I come." It was her cheerful voice again and Frisk immediately recognized that she was playing hide and seek with John. Frisk smiled, she was always great at hide and seek despite her situation, as long as she played with John. He always gave his location away with his chortled laughter and giggles. He couldn't keep quiet to save his life.

Frisk expected to hear an 'I found you', or 'got yah,' within a few minutes. To her surprise, Frisk could only hear the swish of her cane and the distant laughter of the other orphans.

"Michael…?" Frisk heard her voice call out after a long period of time. A few more seconds passed before she called out, "I give up… where are you?"

Frisk frowned as she struggled to remember what had happened. Frisk almost always played with John, so why was she playing Hide-and-Seek with someone else? Frisk racked her brain, unable to come up with an answer.

"Michael..? Michael!" Her voice called out, but no one answered. A few minutes later and Frisk could hear sniffling underneath her. More time passed until a new, older voice joined in, "Hey kid, are you alright?" Edwardo! Frisk recognized his voice, along with the memory she had struggled to remember. Frisk smiled fondly. It was during second week within the orphanage, about year before she met John. No wonder she had trouble remembering, it was so long ago.

"I… can't find Michael." Her voice croaked pathetically.

"He's right over there, playing basketball." It went quiet for a moment before her sobbing grew louder, accompanied by hiccups.

"Hey, why are you still crying? He's right over there." He asked, his voice flat and unimpressed.

"W- we were playing h- hide and s- seek. He promised he w- wouldn't leave." Her younger self blubbered. Frisk's cheeks grew hotter as she cringed in embarrassment, she'd almost forgotten how much she used to cry before she'd met John. Crying was weakness, something Frisk had learned a few months in the orphanage. Kids would tease you and caretakers would treat you like a sensitive toddler, even if you weren't tough it was better to pretend. She was stronger when she had met John… at least she thought she was, but now that she thought about it, she'd been acting so weak. Just like back then, she was no different now. Unpleasant memories began to swarm her head again. Listen to the memory. Listen to the memory. Frisk repeated, slowing her quickened breath to prevent herself from becoming swept away.

"I see… that asswh- er jerk." A pause ensued but luckily Frisk was able to push the bad memories down, and smile again as she continued to listen.

"Look, stop crying. I'll play with you instead."

"Really!" Her voice cried out joyfully.

"Yep... as long as you do one thing for me." Edwardo added.

"What?"

"Don't cry so much. Trust me, not everyone is as nice as me." A few moments passed before Edwardo continued.

"See, you already look ten times stronger." Edwardo finished, his voice muffling as the memory drew to a inscrutable murmur. Frisk's chest glowed with warmth. While Edwardo was a bit tough on her, it was necessary. She was a bit of a crybaby before him. Would she have climbed Mt. Ebott without him to toughen her up every now and then? No, probably not. While John was always there to comfort her, he was too soft on her. Was I ever too tough on him? Almost by cue, a new, recent memory piped up.

"Uh, thanks for your help but I need to go now." Frisk's teeth clenched as she cringed at the memory.

"Frisk. Please don't go, I- I don't want you to disappear."

"I- I won't disappear. I promise, but… John. I want to go. I'm blind and I probably won't ever have this opportunity for an adventure again." An adventure… Frisk scoffed. She got much more than she bargained for… and now… now she was dead, or at least she thought she was.

"Then you need to hurry. Here take this, m- maybe it might help… It's a bandage, for if you get hurt. Now go, it might be past ten-thirty!" Frisk frowned as the light feeling in her chest, morphed into crushing homesickness. She had so much more than what she'd concluded, friends who cared about her, a safe 'home', a future; she threw all that away for an adventure.

"Please come back Frisk… I don't want to lose you too. I don't think I can handle it again." Frisk froze as this small murmur met her ear. It was soft and quiet, she hardly heard John speak at all. That wasn't a memory.

"John? John! Where are you!" Frisk cried, jumping to her feet .

But no one came.

It wasn't a memory, though, she was sure of it… right? Frisk called out a few more times, before giving up. Frisk's hands shook, not with fear, but adrenaline. She wanted, no, needed to go home. Her friend still needed her, and if not, Frisk still owed it to him to keep trying. She didn't want the only person who really cared about her, have his memory poisoned with more grief, he didn't deserve that. She she gave up now, she'd be nothing but a selfish coward.

Frisk took a deep breath, but before she could continue the horror she'd faced and her fears came bouncing back in a wave of choking fear. She didn't want to die anymore, the pain was unbearable. How would she die next? Hypothermia, suffocation, Papyrus, Asgore, Sans? She began to shake with dread as she imagined Sans gutting her alive or slicing her neck open. When Sans had slit her throat, she couldn't breath or scream in agony. Only gasp for air that wasn't there. They betrayed her. Toriel, Papyrus, Sans, they all betrayed her.

"In this world, it's kill or be killed." The floor beneath her giggled with familiar insanity. And for once Frisk realized that the demonic flower, despite its crazed rambling, was right.

At least here she was safe, with her memories to keep her company. She was alone here, with no one to betray or kill her. But, how long would her memories last before she grew tired of hearing them? She was convinced she was dead, but she never expected death to be like this. She expected to stop feeling fear, loneliness, and regret and to stop existing all together. Like a permanent slumber. This isn't what she wanted, but neither was living.

Frisk's breath shook with hesitation, but before she could change her mind she took a deep breath and shouted at the top of her lungs.

"The deal's off, I want my soul back!" Frisk waited for a sign of recognition, a belittling voice to taunt her, but nothing came. Her voice echoed around the strange room, before falling into silence that rang loudly in her ears. The weird floor beneath her, which chattered with hushed memories, also fell strangely mute.

She wasn't sure what she expected to happen, and while she was partially relieved that the voice didn't answer her reluctant call, the sudden silence made her panic. She quickly lowered herself and touched the smooth glass-like floor. Her head ran with memories in hopes to start up any sort of sound. Nothing. Frisk's body began to shiver as she stood back up, unsure of what she'd done.

"U- uh v- voice?" Frisk called out, realizing that she had no name for the voice that possessed her thoughts. Frisk's breathing quickened as each minute of silence passed. She hugged her arms slightly, rubbing them up and down slowly in a futile effort to calm her nerves. She'd never been this alone, even when she wasn't around anyone she'd still hear the birds chirping, cars running on the other side of the orphanage fence, or at least children laughing and talking in the distance. The total silence made her feel stalked, like some silent creature was creeping up to ambush her. Maybe she was wrong, as she wasn't entirely alone. She couldn't be sure, but entertaining the thought only made her panic. Frisk turned around to retreat to her comforting patch of grass, only to find it missing. Frisk dropped to her knees once again, trailing her hands in large arcs I didn't wander that far… the grass should be right here… unless I got turned around...

After a few minutes of crawling, she felt the surface tremble slightly. It reminded her of the older boys that would race through the second story hall. The hallway floor would always shake and bend under their heavy feet and frighten Frisk, who couldn't help but worry that the floor break underneath her.

"Hello?" She called out fearfully, terrified but also anxious to discover if that the vibrations she felt were incoming footsteps.

Nothing answered her call, but another echo. She continued her search for what seemed like forever, it was difficult to keep track of time in the silence. Her panic had dulled as she sighed, resigning her hunt to sit and think. However as Frisk lifted her palms from the floor, she felt something stick to both of her hands like glue. After wiping the weird substance off her right hand, she ran her fingers over her left palm, which was still covered in goo. While it felt like melting slime on her palm, her fingers felt solid glass, smooth and indifferent to the floor beneath her. Frisk's face contorted in utter confusion, she'd never felt anything like it before. As she ran her fingers over and over her palm, in an effort to understand the weird fluid, she realized that the surface was becoming rougher and looser, like rough gravel. Soon enough, the goo felt more like loose sand, trickling off her palm. "What… is this?" She whispered, both worried and curious. She played with the goo for awhile before pushing herself up and resuming her search.

The floor was solid before, but now it felt more and more like she was stepping in thick glassy mud, that was heavy and difficult to walk in. She stopped, crouched, and dipped her hand into the floor, feeling as her hand sunk slowly into the weird goo before reaching solid ground. She cupped her palm as she brought her hand back up. She tilted her hand, so that the goo would pour from her right hand into to her left hand. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't figure out what the goo was. It didn't even smell like anything.

Without any other options, she brought the goo closer to her face and licked a bit into her mouth. Her lips puckered and she instinctively tried to cover her mouth with her hand, only to smear her face with goo. She growled angrily, scraping the goo off her face. It was sour and bitter at first, like lemons, but as a minute or two passed it evolved into a salty flavor that made her face twist further in disgust. It tasted different from table salt, it was stronger, like ocean water or tears. It was disgusting. Even after spitting out the goo, the taste lingered on her tongue. The flavor changed again, but this time it had a faint sweetness, similar to an apple's. Before she could savor the change in flavor, it turned dull and tasteless.

Frisk stood up, her head beginning to ache as she tried to make sense of her surrounding. What used to be a talking, smooth glass floor, was now silent and muddy but still glassy and smooth in texture. It also tasted like lemons, salt, and dull watered-down sugar.

She repeated all that she knew over and over in her mind like pieces to a jigsaw puzzle, but it still made no sense. It frustrated her that she couldn't come up with an answer because she couldn't see.

Frisk yelped as a sharp, burning pain invaded her left eye. After quickly wiping one of her hands clean with her shirt, she rubbed her eye realizing that her eye's asaltant was a few grains of rough sand. After brushing her eye aggressively, she covered it defensively. She wiped her other hand, slick with goo, on her clothes that were quickly becoming dirty and heavy with goo. She moved her hand across her face, realizing that the leftover goo on her face was turning into sand and getting into her eyes. She shook her head like a dog fresh out of the water, before brushing her face with her hand to remove the sand. Unfortunately her face was still grimy, with a thin sheet of sand sticking to her face uncomfortably. Not only that, but her clothes and legs were covered in goo and sand that itched her skin. She let out a loud growl, trying to move out of the sticky goop. Luckily, she wasn't sinking, with the goo only meeting her ankles, so at least she wasn't in any danger of suddenly being sucked into the ground. At least she hoped she wasn't.

After what felt like ten minutes of trekking through what was starting to feel like sandy glue, Frisk's scrunched face was quickly becoming sore. She didn't want any sand to burn her eyes, but she had a hard time keeping her eyes closed. She was used to having them open and only closing them for a short period of time when she felt self-conscious. With her face scrunched she could keep them closed, but her face was starting to ache. Not only that but her legs were tired and her head was throbbing with dull pain. She was trying to get back to solid ground, but just like her attempt to find her patch of grass, it seemed like a pointless search. She settled to her knees again, grumbling as her legs sunk into the goo, which was no longer soft and glassy, but rough and sticky.

She wasn't tired or hungry, which made sense if she was dead, but that didn't explain why she could still feel pain. An idea clicked in her head. Frisk took a deep breath of air before holding her breath. Minutes passed, but she didn't feel her chest burning, or the need to take another breath. It felt like she was still breathing, which sent an uncomfortable chill up her spine. She exhaled her breath, returning to her comforting, rhythmic breathing.

She rested her legs for a bit, before she got up and continued to wander aimlessly. She didn't know what else to do but walk and pray that she found something she understood, or else she feared that her headache might worsen.

She didn't get too far when suddenly she became conscious of her tightening wrists. She stopped walking to touch her wrist, which was absent of the string she felt tugging and tightening. She rubbed her thumb into the muscle in an attempt to massage away the feeling. Sometimes her wrist would become sore if she used her cane a lot, but the tightening felt a bit different. She rubbed her thumb in small circles in between the bones that connected to her hand, switching hands every now and then. While the massage felt nice, it didn't remove the tightened feeling. She kept walking, deciding to massage while she walked.

Something jerked her wrists backwards, sending a shock from her wrists to her elbows as it pulled her violently back. Frisk cried out in shock as she fell backwards, her wrists tightening painfully as that something tried to pull her through the goo she fell in.

"Let go of me!" Even though she was the stuck in the goo, the thing continued to pull her backwards.

"Please, stop!" She cried, suddenly worried that it would tear her arms out if it kept trying to pull her.

"Sto-" The goo's grip on her snapped, and the ground beneath her disappeared as she was launched into the air like a slingshot. She didn't even have enough time to scream before her body crashed into a pile of damp, gritty sand. Frisk moaned, her body throbbing with pain. She didn't move at first, but eventually she shifted to her knees, her body twitching from the shocks running up and down her arms, legs, and spine.

"W- who... are you?" She managed to moan, however no one answered her and the tugging she'd felt on her wrists were gone. She touched her quivering wrist but felt nothing, nor heard any footsteps, and when she managed to raise her hand to touch something, someone, anything at all, she felt nothing.

She couldn't understand.

Frisk waited a few moments in silence, before rolling back onto the damp sand. She sobbed as pain shot up her spine the moment she laid on the ground. She cried freely, not even trying to hold back her despair.

"I wanna… go home... " she wailed, her voice cracking as her throat swelled up. Home. What was that to her? She had no real home, and she would hardly call her orphanage a home, yet she craved it so much. She missed something that she never had. Frisk laughed ruefully, her twisted laughter morphing into a whimper as more pain shot up her spine. Even Frisk couldn't understand herself.

"I'm never getting out of here am I?" she asked the silence with a broad smile.

The goo that used to cover the ground had thickened into damp sand, a mystery Frisk didn't even try to comprehend. What bothered her was the agonizing sand that stung and burned her eyes. She didn't move to brush her eyes, her hands hurt just as much as the rest of her body. All she could do was cry and sob, in hopes for the lingering sand to wash away.

As time passed, her tears dried and her chest rose and fell softly in a peaceful manner. The sleeping child, with her brunette hair frazzled, riddled with knots, and clotted with sand, didn't even notice as the 'sand' of her timeline swallowed her.

Meanwhile the storm continued unmercifully, indifferent to the hollow body whom had already succumbed to the waves of stinging ice. Warm arms wrapped around the limp child, her frostbitten body was picked up from the blanket of snow that had fallen upon her. Sheets of snow melted off the girl when the monster cradled her in his arms, however the furious storm seemed intent on covering her back up with fresh snowflakes. The monster pulled her closer to his vest, turning her head away from the storm, before rushing towards a building whose fluorescent sign was turned off early due to the building snow. While he had trouble seeing, he managed to find the building by sheer instinct.

He opened the door and entered the restaurant. Icy wind easily pushed passed the door and rushed into the once warm restaurant. The door, which he'd lost grip with and slammed into the wall, was difficult to close with the child in his arms.

Monster Kid, who had been pacing on the floor, looked up with an expression the monster had missed while trying to shove the door closed with his elbow. Monster Kid ran up and headbutted the door, and together they managed to overpower the wind hold the door open. Once the door clicked, the monster leaned on the door and slumped with a sigh, his flamed head was dimmed a dark red and ache painfully, this was why he didn't serve water.

Monster Kid, who'd still been shoving the door, stopped and looked up. His face, the monster now noticed, was mixed with horror and worry.

"A- are you alright Grillby? Your head's red and... hissing…" Monster Kid squirmed slightly, unsure of what to do to help.

"...I'm fine." The storm was so loud that he'd hadn't heard how his head hissed and crackled angrily. Even now, the storm's whistling and roaring could still be heard through the maroon walls. The lashes of wind thumbed at a constant pace, as the wind tried to push its way inside. He questioned the stability of his wall for a moment, he'd never seen this bad of a storm and neither had his building, before he looked down at the child; her face still buried into his chest, while her arm had fallen out of his cradle and hung out limply. He placed a gloved hand on the child's temple and moved the child's head slightly to check on her state. The slick layer of melted snow on her face, reflected the dark red flames that flickered from his head, her face was a pale yellow with only her nose and cheeks glowing a light shade of pink and a smudge of brown that turned out be dirt on her face. Her clothes were stiff and muddy, and torn in several places. She looked homeless, and probably was since he'd never seen her around Snowdin before. If she wasn't from Snowdin, then she probably 'lived' in the capital. Plenty of homeless flocked there, but who would abandon a little monster? While life was rough in the Underground, the kids were always put first, or at least in Snowdin. Grillby felt his soul beat quicker in his chest as he stared at the battered child; the sign of a crumbling race. "She sleeping, right? She's too young to have fallen…" Grillby turned his attention to Monster Kid, who's eyes were glazed with fear contrary to his wide smile. Grillby gazed at him blankly for a moment, before mentally damning himself. A kid was dying in his arms and all he could do was brood helplessly, now was not the time for this.

Grillby nodded and stepped towards an empty booth that rested near the door. He laid her down softly, pushing her frigid legs (which were falling off the side) back onto the cushion. He sighed as her weight left his hands; she was heavy and her water soaked clothes had started to leak through his own and sting his 'skin.'

He had no beds in his restaurant, only booths that he'd also used as a bed until Monster Kid had woken him up by banging on the door.

Grillby untied the apron around his waist, but hummed quietly in disapproval, noticing the liquor and condiment stains decorating the thin black cloth. Throwing the apron aside onto the floor, he turned toward the bar counter and took a step before hesitating. Quickly he turned back towards the table to snatch the left-over beer off the table, then twisted on his heel to run towards the bar counter. Abandoning the bottle on the counter, he moved around the counter and crouched below his station to open his hidden cabinet, where he kept his extra aprons, ketchup, and a crude combat knife (In case of an escalated bar fight, but he avoided ever using it.) Opening the door, he pulled out two of the clean aprons he had and ran back to the motionless child. He wrapped the aprons around her, worriedly looking over her as she made no move, not even a shiver. Unfortunately Grillby couldn't increase his body temperature to warm her soul, in fear that he'd lose control and set her on fire, and his restaurant for that matter.

Instead Grillby patted the couch, opposite of the unconscious kid, motioning Monster Kid to sit.

"O- oh, okay." He stammered, worry still etched in his eyes. Grillby tapped his glasses with one finger and pointing to the child with his other hand. Monster Kid stared at him for a while before speaking hesitantly, "She… needs glasses?" Grillby sighed to himself and shook his head. This time he pointed into Monster Kid's eyes, before pointing to the child. Monster Kid's expression lit up as he clicked together what Grillby was trying to say.

"Oh, oh! Yeah, I'll watch her." Grillby nodded, before rushing to off to the door next to the bar, which lead into the kitchen.

Once Grillby had left, the room become void of his hissing and popping head, leaving only the storm that howled and shook the walls errily. The storm didn't seem this bad to Monster Kid when he left the Waterfall, so maybe it was his fear that amplified the roaring and made him more conscious of the wind that battered him when he was outside and next to Frisk's immobile body.

Monster Kid turn to Frisk, who he could hardly see behind the table. Getting up from the seat, he walked over to her, noticing that she was again missing the devil-horned hat. Maybe it fell in the snow when she fell, though Monster Kid wasn't sure if he saw it on her when he walked up. Her face was pale which greatly contrasted from the yellowish brown skin she had when he'd first seen her that afternoon.

She was warm-dusted, which made the cold more dangerous than it was to a cold-dusted monster like Monster Kid. However she wasn't turning to dust like he feared, but she wasn't showing any sign of life either. She wasn't even breathing, though it could be that she was a monster who didn't need to breath. Monster Kid walked closer to her body, a shiver crawling up his spine as he recalled a passage from the Monster's History Book his school forced him to read. Usually he blew it off, or absentmindedly skimmed the reading, but he remembered catching his eye on a word his parent's always refused to define. 'You're too young.' or 'When you're older sweetscales.' They were always codling him with these words, he was so tired of it! So he read the page with the word on it, not realizing how much it would frighten him

Unfortunately, monsters are not experienced with illness. However, when monsters are about to expire of age, they lie down, immobile. We call this state "Fallen Down." A person who has Fallen Down will soon perish.

He could hardly sleep that night, afraid that he wouldn't wake up. His soul was always weaker than his parents, he was sure of this even if his parents didn't tell him so. There was no way Monster Kid could confess his fears to his parents, they'd only punish him and make him feel worse. Over time he slowly bounced back as he often forgot about his fate, whether accidental or forced repression.

Now it was shoved right back into his face like a lemon on his wounds. This was proof wasn't it, that kids could fall down if their soul was weak? Monster Kid laughed quietly as his vision began to blur, and his eyes began to warm.

"Y- yo, you asleep?...Cuz' you g- gotta get up for you and me…" Three second passed with no response, then twelve, then forty. Monster Kid's body quivered with panic as he begun to see a reflection of himself. Pitifully smothered in blankets, immobile with a face frozen in pain, and completely helpless. Undyne would never find him useful with a soul like his own, with the possibility to die at any moment. Undyne would think i'm weak and useless… and worthless… I could never be strong like her...

Monster Kid's glassy eyes broke and droplets of clear tears streamed down his cheeks as he trembled and sobbed quietly. His head was hung in shame when a sudden sharp gasp and coughing broke out in front of him. Monster Kid looked up, his eyes as wide as they could. Frisk was sitting up, a hand clutching her throat as she took strangled breaths. Monster Kid could only stare at her in stunned silence as she caught her breath.

"Ha… Haha… your still sobbing? Your such a crybaby…" Frisk laughed to herself before opening her eyes. They were a cloudy sliver-brown, that seemed to gaze straight passed Monster Kid. Her eye's narrowed as her gaze shifted around, again reminding Monster Kid of Doggo. Her eye's softened again, her next words wobbly and laced with resign and fear, "Asriel… I d- didn't know Buttercups caused blindness…" She buried her head into her arm to wipe the bead of mucus trailing from her nose onto her already dirtied sleeve, "can… can you come closer?" One of her hands stretch out to touch something. Monster Kid was thrown off and confused by what she said, but felt obligated to comply due to the pain in her voice.

Monster Kid moved closer to her hovering hand, which quickly lowered to touch his tear-damp cheek. Her eyes narrowed again as she lifted her other idle hand to touch his nose. A sudden shove caught Monster Kid off balance, he cried out as he fell backward and slammed against the floor.

"O- ow…" he groaned, "What was that for?" He growled, lifting his head to meet her glare. His glare faltered, however, under the intensity of her own.

"Who the hell are you?" She spat. Monster Kid couldn't tell if she was shivering from the cold, or from the same hatred that shot daggers from her eyes.

"U- u- uh... u- um…" He stammered, unable to form words as her eyes bore straight through him. His body began to tremble again, yet he hadn't the slightest idea why. Monster Kid knew that even with Frisk's deadly glare, that she was weakened and ill, yet his soul beat rapidly inside his chest and his mind screamed to flee.

SLAM

Monster kid nearly fainted from shock until he realized that the door behind him had opened.

"Who's there?" Frisk barked. Grillby ran over to Monster Kid, and paused looking between both him and Frisk before helping Monster Kid up. Monster Kid backed up closely behind Grillby defensively, still a bit frightened of Frisk's sudden hostility. Grillby looked down at him again and tilted his head, which suddenly made Monster Kid feel self-conscious. Only babies hide behind adults!

Monster Kid condemned himself, realizing that he was no better than a toddler who would cling to their mother's leg. He was about to step away from Grillby to regain what ever dignity he had left, when Grillby stepped closer to the child.

Monster Kid was exposed again, though this time he was glad that Frisk's hostility had shifted away from him. Monster Kid watched anxiously as Grillby grew closer, and noticed as Frisk's eye flicked around, as if she was searching for an elusive fly.

"Who are you! Get away from me!" She shrieked as she pushed herself back against the wall, the aprons already kicked onto the floor. Her hands quickly touched the table and the couch, as her body trembled like a cornered animal. Monster Kid noticed that Grillby had stopped to make weird hand signs, however Frisk didn't seem to notice. Her head was tilted towards the table, her hands searched for something franticly. One of her hands knocked over a bottle of mustard, which she quickly took into her grasp and held over her head. Monster Kid's eyes widened and he quickly backed up and ducked behind one of the tables. Grillby, however, didn't move but his hands remained still again.

"...calm down…..rest." He managed to hum after a long pause.

Frisk whose eyes were darting place to place, locked on to Grillby as she drew the mustard bottle further behind her, as it to throw it at him. Grillby flinched, his hands raised defensively to block the bottle, but she didn't throw it.

"Where am I? Tell me now or I'll smash this bottle on your head and stab shards into your eyes!" She growled, her words easily intimidating Monster Kid, who peered over the seat of the chair. Monster Kid stared at Grillby incredulously as he didn't respond to Frisk's interrogation, he knew Grillby was quiet and didn't talk often but this was kinda important!

"Tell me, NOW!" Her hand reared back even further but before she could send the bottle flying, Monster Kid cried out, "S- stop! You're in Grillby's, a- a restaurant in Snowdin! You're not in danger, I promise!"He pleaded, his body quivering as he hid further behind the chair, wishing he had hands to move it for better cover.

Her arm lowered slightly as she gazed at them in silence for a moment, her face revealed confusion before it hardened again into a scowl.

"There are two of you, what are your names?" She commanded, it still dumbfounded Monster Kid how her voice was so stoic now, versus when he'd first met her. Frisk seemed so shy and soft spoken that it was hard to believe that she was the same person who'd just threatened to gorge Grillby's eyes out. Monster Kid wasn't even sure if Grillby even had eyes.

"I'm Monster Kid… remember? A- and Grillby is the restaurant owner." Grillby nodded, however that didn't seem to remove her glare or the threat of the bottle.

"What am I doing here?" She asked, no longer shouting though her words were dripping with suspicion.

"I… found you in the blizzard. I couldn't carry you 'cause uh… you know…" The girl raised an eyebrow that made Monster Kid feel like he was shrinking. "I- I uh… asked... er, got help... Grillby to help." His cheeks blushed as he stupidly tripped over his words, it was hard not to with her roaming eyes suddenly staring at him with such a belittling expression. Monster Kid sighed in relief as her eyes moved on.

"...you're lying." She declared, in contrary however, she lowered her bottle onto the table while still holding on tightly. Her eyes closed as she rubbed them with her other hand aggressively. As the threat of being hit with a bottle diminished, Grillby crouched down to pick up the aprons Frisk had casted onto the floor, and brushed it with his hand.

"N- No, you were covered in snow. You're still wet aren't you?" Frisk had stopped rubbing her eyes to reveal silvery irises glazed with familiar resign. After releasing the bottle, she let out a long sigh as her body relaxed and slumped against the wall. Monster Kid's eyes widened and he quickly left his hiding spot to check if she was alright. She didn't move, but he'd notice as he stood beside Grillby, who had already taken away the bottle and was re-covering her with the two aprons, how violently she was shivering and how sick and pale she appeared.

"I'm freezing…" She murmured, Monster Kid watched as she closed her eyes and fell back asleep, not realizing that Grillby had left until Monster Kid felt a hand on his shoulder.

Monster Kid flinched and looked up to Grillby who stared down at him and held out a crooked piece of paper for him to take.

"Uh…" Grillby paused before realizing his mistake, making another weird hand signal, with his right fist making small clockwise circles over his chest. Without explaining what he was doing, Grillby walked over to the chair Monster Kid had been hiding behind and pulled it out to place the note on top. Monster Kid walked over, blown away for a moment by how awesome his handwriting was, it was even better than his teachers!

Monster Kid, could you please watch over the child while I am in the kitchen. I will not be gone for long, as the soup I made for her is done but needs to be warmed up. I do not believe that she is dangerous, but if she looks like she might attack you, shout and I will come running. Is that alright?

As soon as Monster Kid reached the end of the note, he looked up to Grillby's expecting gazed and nodded, "Yeah, sure…" Her paused wondering whether or not to ask. Grillby didn't move and tilted his head quizzically as he'd noticed Monster Kid's confusion. Monster Kid looked up at him, deciding it couldn't hurt to ask.

"Why didn't you just tell me."

Grillby paused for a moment before he fished the pen from his pocket and picked up the paper again. He flipped the paper onto the back and wrote again for only a few seconds before placing it back onto the chair. Monster Kid leaned over and read while Grillby left him, heading for the kitchen to warm up Frisk's soup.

I cannot talk normally like monsters such as yourself.

A.N.

Hey, I'm not dead! Yay chapter 7 is finally done woo! The reason I haven't updated in months is because I wanted to take a break and write other fanfictions and One-shot's. Also 'Frisk', Monster Kid, and Grillby kind of reminded me of the three wise monkeys, (see no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil?)