#drkau

The first thing Elly hears when she opens her eyes is, <it’s been three days!!>

<Oh,> Elly says, still remembering what it feels like to talk. And think. And have a body. When she flexes her hands she can hear Kris giggling against her mind, their mind, whatever space it is that they share. Ba says they’re allowed to concept…conceptualize it however they want, and Elly likes to think of it like a bed they share. Bigger than the bed they have in their room, but not so big they can’t accidentally kick each other off of it sometimes.

Also the sheets are snowflake patterned. That’s really important.

<Elly,> Kris whines, which means stop thinking and start listening to me! Elly, being a good sister, only laughs at them a little bit. <You’re the worst.>

Elly shrugs. It’s more inside than out, though she’s kinda aware of the world outside and not just because of Kris. Remembering she has a body always takes a bit. Sometimes looking in the mirror helps. Like a shock to her system. (<Pfft, system> says Kris, and she pinches them.) Kris’s face stares back at her, and they wave. She grins back. They’ve got their charm wrapped around a tine of their antler, the beaded one they and Elly made back when they first realized there were two of them. Brown and green for Kris, white and pink for Elly. And both at the same time for both of them. Though usually their family is pretty good at telling who it is.

<What did you do while you were gone?> Kris asks, poking at the general idea of her.

<You know I don’t remember stuff like that.> She doesn’t think Kris does, either, because she really doubts they’re actually exploring schemas whenever they can’t talk to each other, no matter how much they insist otherwise. Inside is a room they share and Elly’s pretty sure there’s not much beyond it.

For Elly it’s like closing her eyes. Sometimes it just takes a lot longer for her to open them back up.

<Well you didn’t miss nothing if you were wondering,> Kris says, flopping back onto their bed. <Ba bought more bagels finally.>

Elly perks up. <For me!>

<Dunno why you like them. They’re just kinda okay.> Kris crinkles their nose. <Anyways we had a test in school and I maybe did kinda bad but whatever. Um I fought Frisk over who gets to use the computer and totally won so don’t listen to anything they say.>

She giggles. <Sure, Kris.> She does feel a bit bad about the test though. She’s pretty good at them! She just…didn’t hear Kris calling for her.  <Was that it?>

<Oh and Dess came back,> Kris says, and Elly’s jaw drops. <So yeah nothing important.>

<What? What? WHAT?> Elly flails in headspace, tumbling her way more firmly in the body. Owowo, Kris has a headache so now she has one, but this is more important, because, <that’s the most important thing ever! Kris!>

Kris giggles, like the terrible worst sibling they are. <Okay maybe one important thing happened.>

<You’re my least favorite sibling,> Elly says, which really isn’t a competition, because Frisk is great and Dess is like her sistermom and doesn’t really count, because she’s Elly’s sister and Kris’s mom but sort of Elly’s mom too. It’s complicated. <Where is she?>

<I dunno its like five am so asleep?> Kris doesn’t protest when Elly stands though, shaking all of Kris’s sleepiness out of her limbs to go make a beeline right for Dess and Ba’s room. She remembers to be quiet for Frisk but forgets about that once she’s in the hallway. Her hooves tap tap tap against the hardwood. She likes listening for the steady click of them, ‘cause it’s a way she walks different from Kris. It’s still weird that whenever she looks in a mirror it’s just Kris staring back at her even when she knows she’s there too. But the differences make it better.

Anyways, they don’t have to go very far to find Dess because she’s not actually in her room but instead in the living room, poking on her really ugly phone she has. Even she says its ugly and a brick but it’s the only thing that knows how to survive in the darkest and deepest places. Also it has breakout on it so it’s pretty okay even if it can’t really use the internet good and stuff.

“Dess!” Elly cheers, and charges for her.

Voice is another way where it’s pretty easy to tell them apart. Kris’s is all grumbly but hers is way higher pitched than theirs even if she kinda has to focus to make it that way. So sometimes they end up sounding similar. But still, it’s different enough that the people who know them best, like Ba and Frisk and Dess, can pretty much tell almost all of the time. And Dess does! Because Elly barrels into her chest for a hug, and Dess grins, and says, “Photocopy! Welcome back.”

Elly beams. Dess isn’t supposed to call her that, because one day Ba found out and yelled at her for like ever, which wasn’t fun, because Elly and Kris and Frisk just had to kinda hide in their room and pretend like they were playing when really they were listening super intently. Well Elly and Kris were. She can’t always tell with Frisk. Their listening face is the same as their ignoring face.

But for Elly and Kris it was a big fight, which doesn’t usually happen where they can hear it. Elly only sorta kinda understands what the fight was about. She knows that once long ago Dess had a sister also named Elly—well Noelle but Elly’s full name is Noelle she just likes Kris’s nickname for her more—and then…something happened…and now Elly is here! She’s not sure why her parents think it’s complicated. Sure maybe Elly didn’t always live in Kris’s head but she’s pretty okay with it. Even if Kris isn’t as tall as her.

Either way even if photocopy is a weird nickname Elly like it. ‘cause it’s something just for her and Dess, and she preens into the attention, wriggling closer to her sistermom.

“Kris didn’t tell me you came back ‘til the end,” Elly tells her, ignoring Kris wailing, <tattler!> “They said nothing important happened! Can you believe them?”

“Keeping you on your toes, huh?” Dess teases, and Elly pouts. “Aww, Elly, you’ll be alright. Glad you came back, I was worried I wouldn’t see you.”

Elly shrugs. “Sometimes it’s just real hard to exist.”

Kris adds, “she’s not as good as it at me.” And grins all stupid.

“Hey!” Elly slaps their arm. “You’re bad at existing! I’m super great at it!”

“You’re both very good at existing,” Dess tells them, and Kris sticks out their tongue. Elly because she’s way better just sits a bit straighter. “Kris told me all about what they’ve been getting up to alone, photocopy, what about you?”

“Well I think Monday we had to run the mile in PE and I totally beat all the other kids there,” Elly says, even though maybe that Monday was two Mondays ago, and so the conversation continues.

After, Elly gets to play breakout on Dess’s phone, curled up at her sistermom’s side, listening to her stories all warm background. Kris wraps around her heart and watches, content to just exist together, no need to fight over who gets their body. They’re only sort of annoying. And soon when the sun’s actually starting to rise Dess will take them outside, up to the roof that’s technically locked up but if Dess can break in is it really locked, and Elly will giggle, no no no, and from there they can watch the sunrise.

Ralsei wakes up in a car.

“Wha—” She tries to sit up, sit forward, but it stopped by the seatbelt tugging her back, tight across her chest. She…she was in her bed. She was absolutely in her bed, because she remembers Kris’s music being loud despite wearing them headphones, and having to climb up to their bunk to whap them with her pillow just to get her twin to turn it down. And then she…she went back under her covers, and she…

“You cannot—December Hyacinth!” That’s…Ba’s voice. Ralsei rubs at her eyes, sniffs. Her allergies have been pretty bad lately and so she’s been keeping a box of tissues on her bed. But when she reaches out it isn’t there, because…because she’s in a car. The…backseat… “You turn around right now, so help me god—”

“No-can-do, [nn]!” Dess’s voice is loud and cheery and lacking the tinny resonance of Ba’s. Ralsei blinks. The world, slowly, comes into focus around her. She is in the back of a car. Dark leather seats. In the front is—Dess. Mom. Ralsei didn’t even know she was coming back. Had…come back. Where are they? Outside the sky is dark, a smear of faint stars, the shiny highway signs reflecting headlights. She can see trees bordering the road and little else. Ralsei’s still wearing her pajamas, soft pale colors. Dess isn’t much better, with faded clothes and a jacket Ralsei recognizes as one of Ba’s, since it’s too small on Dess.

“What the fuck do you mean no can do,” says Ba, over the car’s Bluetooth. That explains how tinny xir voice is. Ralsei leans her head against the window. Why is it so hard to breathe? “Where are you? Why would you just—if you wanted to go on a trip, you could’ve—Kris has been crying for nearly an hour now and you’ve wrecked Frisk’s routine—you took my daughter without telling me—"

“Hey, you get the kids, like, ninety, ninety-five percent of the time! Can’t a gal want to get some bonding time in with her, y’know.” Ralsei catches the edge of her mother’s lazy grin, waving her hand not on the steering wheel. “It’ll just be a few days max. Bounce around a few nearby states, check out some tourist traps, sell some weirdass shit I picked up, maybe check out a schema or two—”

“If you bring Ralsei into a schema,” says Ba, xir voice dark, “I will go in there myself to drag you both out, and you will never see the kids again.”

Dess is quiet for a long moment.

“…I was just joking, Chara,” she says. “I wouldn’t—I wasn’t gonna—”

Ralsei hears Ba’s inhale.

“Dess,” xe says, and xir voice cracks. “I just. I don’t understand. Please tell me where you are. Please come back home.”

“Few days max, [nn], promise,” Dess says. “I’ll keep Ralsei safe, okay? We’ll have a blast! Kris and I do dumb shit all the time. Figured it was time to offer Ralsei the same thing.”

“Dess,” Ba says, again. Pleading.

“Sorry.” Dess moves her hand to the end call button. “It’ll be fine. Promise. I’ll see you in a few days. Tell Kris and Frisk I—I love them, and, um—you too, [nn]. I…I hope you know you really do mean the world to me.”

She presses the button. The faint static crackling, and any remnants of Ba’s voice, vanish. Dess slumps a bit in her seat.

Ralsei tries, “Mom?”

Dess jerks. “Oh!” She twists half-around, catches sight of Ralsei, before returning most of her attention to the road. All empty and looming. “Hey, shadow of mine. You, uh—caught all that. Did you.”

“I…” Ralsei’s voice is thick in her mouth. Her hands fumble with the end of her shirt. Her bed is so much softer than a car could be. Warmer, too. Is she shivering? She misses all her stuffed animals. Even if Kris teases her about them. They’re the best to burrow underneath. “I don’t…I don’t know…how did we get here?”

“Yeah, doubt you remember. You slept like a baby! Actually no you didn’t, babies are terrible and scream all the time. You slept like something much better. But, uh, hey!” She grins over her shoulder at Ralsei. “We’ve never just taken a trip, me-and-you, huh? What better time to do than now! It’s winter break, all the highway attractions will be selling hot chocolate—”

“Mom…?”

“—and the next time we stop, how about you come sit up front?” Dess grins. “Way better than being stuck in the back.”

Ralsei blinks. “Ba says the back is safer. ‘til…’til we’re taller.”

“What Chara doesn’t know won’t hurt xir,” Dess says. She sticks her free hand back towards Ralsei. “Whaddya say, little shadow?”

Ralsei wants to be in her bed. She wants to wake up to Kris being annoying and to help Ba make breakfast and to watch cartoons with Frisk. She wants to go home, where it’s warm, where she knows what to expect, where she can go to school and listen to her ba and sprawl out with her siblings and. And and and.

Dess waggles her hand.

Ralsei surges forwards to take it.

_ _ _

Sitting in the front of the car isn’t actually all that different from sitting in the back. Either way, Ralsei can feel exhaustion down to her bones, and a gnawing pit of hunger in her stomach, and the car rattles her no differently with her cheek pressed up against the window, a cool chill settling across her fur. She’s got her ba’s borrowed jacket draped over her, though she doesn’t remember when that happened. She tugs it closer.

“Mom?” Ralsei mumbles. Outside the world is a blur of grays and streaky streetlights. It’s raining, she thinks: she can hear the patter of it, a second rhythm to the thrum of the car. “Mom…?”

No response from Dess. Ralsei shifts, hugging her arms around herself as she lifts up her head and looks over to Dess. Her mother is clutching the steering wheel like Kris when they’re trying to strangle the life out of their plushies in their games. Without the jacket Ralsei can make out the faded pattern on her shirt, the cracked colors of the graphic for Ralsei’s old daycare, the place where her parents met. The sky is a dulled dark.

“Dess,” Ralsei tries.

Dess jerks. “Huh?”

“I’m…’m hungry…” Ralsei sniffles, rubbing at her eyes. And it’s so hard to keep them open, too…it’s probably only the hunger that’s kept her from falling asleep. “What time is it?”

“You, uh, don’t want to know.” Dess’s voice is too-loud in the stillness. “…shit. Kids need food and sleep and stuff huh.”

Ralsei yawns, nodding. “Mmm-hmm…”

“Just—sit tight. I’ll find something soon.” Dess glances to her, one hand on the wheel, and ruffles the fur atop her head. Ralsei leans into it, though she’s not able to stifle another yawn. “Probably a Waffle House open around here or something…”

Ralsei doesn’t really remember much else. Just faint flickers—she thinks she sleeps, in jerky half-starts, while the car rumbles on. The blinding fluorescents of the grimy Waffle House Dess brings them too, leaning into her mother’s side and trying not to face-plant into her hashbrowns. Dess carries her into the motel, Ralsei’s head pressed to her heart.

“Alright, shadow,” Dess says, once the door to the room has swung shut behind them. It’s small—the room barely fits the single bed, the curtains in tatters, the wallpaper a peeling brown. She sets Ralsei down atop the bed and its off-white sheets. “We’ve got the room for like, twelve hours, so. How long do kids need to sleep?”

“Ba says…lotta it.” Ralsei’s already sinking into the bedsheets. “Mom—” she reaches out a hand.

“Yeah, yeah. I got’cha.” Dess takes her hand, rubs it. “I’ll hang around here, don’t worry. It’s our roadtrip, yeah?”

“Ours,” Ralsei echoes. There’s something soft about the word—about this space, just the two of them, without Kris or Frisk or Ba.

“That’s right, shadow,” Dess says, “ours. So—sleep tight, okay?”

Ralsei mumbles something, maybe. But for the most part she’s already drifting off.

_ _ _

When Ralsei next wakes—wakes up for real, not the sort of waking that is mostly just the inbetween-state of awake and asleep—there is sunlight shining in through a browning window, she is not in her bed, and Dess is pacing the length of the room.

Motel room. Right. Ralsei rubs at her eyes as she sits up, and her movements draw Dess’s attention over to her, her mother’s face flickering for a moment before she drops down at the foot of the bed, and Ralsei crawls up to her.

“You’re up! Good. Good good.” Dess digs a hand into her pocket. Ralsei sits there at her side, and Dess drops an arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer. Smushed against Dess her fur prickles at Ralsei’s own—her mother’s fur has always been coarse where Ralsei’s was soft. “I was gonna answer Chara’s calls once you woke up. If you wanted to talk to xir?”

Ralsei shrugs. The entire room is lit yellow, from the window, from the off-white walls, a sort of cream. Dust spirals through the air like millions of tiny bugs. “Where are we going?”

“Couple specific places to pawn a few things,” Dess says, tapping at her phone. It’s more brick than phone. Since Ralsei last saw her mother the screen has collected even more cracks, and bits of Dess’s fur stick in them. “I wasn’t joking about roadside attraction hot chocolate. Chara banned us from schemas but I wouldn’t bring you into the dark either way.” For a long moment her gaze settles on Ralsei, before she shakes herself and prods at her phone’s screen again. “Stupid thing barely wants to register…”

Mostly, Ralsei just watches her mother. The call goes through, eventually, and Dess stands when she talks on it. The content of her words washes over Ralsei. She’s good at tuning out her parents’ arguments. Instead she catalogs Dess in her mind: the frayed edges of her shirt, the flyaway hairs, the dark edges to her eyes, like roiling shadow. Eventually, Dess slows, stills. Rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, ‘course I was gonna let her talk to you, Chara.” A pause. “You worry way too much. Let me do the worrying for us? You just stay safe! But yeah, here, one sec…” She turns to face Ralsei, moving the phone away from her ear. “Chara wants to talk, you awake enough for that?”

Ralsei nods, reaching out for the phone.

“Talk as long as you want,” Dess says, passing the phone down to Ralsei. “I’m gonna take a shower. Just don’t read my emails!” Her voice is light as she ruffles Ralsei’s head and heads off for the bathroom. Ralsei curls around the phone, sets it on speaker as the bathroom door clicks shut.

“Ralsei?” Ba asks.

“Hi Ba,” Ralsei says. The words sound quiet even to her. She clears her throat and that doesn’t help much. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, dear,” Ba says. Xe sounds…tired, mostly. Just tired. “Ralsei, if you want me to come pick you up, just let me know, okay? I know Dess is—exciting—but…”

“I…” Ralsei trails off. She’d rather her own bed than this room. The blankets are too scratchy and the leather of Dess’s car scrapes off against her fur. But Dess wanted Ralsei to come with her. Not Ba, not Frisk, and not Kris. Her. Ralsei. “I wanna…I wanna stay. It’s okay.”

“If you’re sure.” Ba’s quiet for a moment. “Please call me whenever, okay? I’ve told Dess to call me at least once a day but if you want it more than that, she’ll listen. And—please, please, don’t do anything dangerous? Please. Ralsei, if something were to happen to you—”

“It won’t, Ba.” Ralsei traces a claw down the jagged edge of a crack. “Promise. Mom’ll keep me safe. She fights all the bad stuff.”

“Yes, well. I just worry, is all.” Ba sighs. “Do you want to talk to your siblings? Kris has been awake all night, practically, and I can go grab Frisk as well.”

Ralsei nods, then says, “yes please.”

“Okay. Here’s Kris, one second…” There’s a faint scuffling over the line, and then:

“RALSEI!” Ralsei jerks away with the force of Kris’s voice. “It’s no fair!!!! I wanna go on the trip with you and Mom too!!!”

Ralsei laughs, a bit, shaking her head.

“Ba says Dess wanted mother-daughter bonding time,” Kris grumbles, and Ralsei can almost see her twin crossing their arms, that cute grumbly expression on their face. Kris claims it makes them look very scary but really they just look like a kicked puppy. “But what about mother-KRIS bonding time huh. Then Ba said well why don’t we have Ba and Kris bonding time at home, and I said we always do that but Mom isn’t here always and it’s not fair Ralsei gets all the mom time!” Something twists in Ralsei’s gut. “Then Ba said Kris Dess spends a lot of time with you when she’s home and I said but not enough.”

They huff. “So basically have so much fun for me okay Ralsei? I can’t be there so you gotta!”

“Okay, Kris,” Ralsei says. Her voice sticks in her throat. “I will.”

They talk a bit longer, about less important things. How neither of them are looking forwards to returning to school after the break ends (at least they still have another two weeks). What should happen next in their games (Kris is rooting for the plushies to stage an overthrow, Ralsei thinks everyone should just talk things out). If anything interesting happened while they were apart (Ralsei talks about Waffle House; Kris recounts their latest trip digging through the hall closet).

Eventually Frisk joins, and Ralsei tells them good morning, gets some birdsong sound effects in response. “Thanks, Frisk,” she says. “I’ll try to bring something back for you.” This time she gets explosions. She really hopes Mom will take her somewhere where she can actually follow through on that promise.

By the time Dess comes out of the shower Ralsei’s hung up, after about five minutes of yes, Ba, I’ll be fine, I’m eleven now you don’t have to worry! She hops off the bed at Dess’s return, Dess tugging a mostly broken hairbrush through her short hair.

“Does the shower work?” Ralsei asks.

“If you love low water pressure.” Dess grimaces. “It’ll get the job done if you want to use it. I packed some clothes for you, but I did just sort of grab whatever I saw.” She nods over to a backpack, tossed in the corner of the room. “All in there.”

“Okay,” Ralsei says, but she doesn’t make for getting ready right away. “Where are we going today?”

“Like I said, pawning some schema stuff. First of the shops is, eh, few hours from here?” Dess wobbles a hand. “Time is weird. Would go faster if we cut through the dark, but.”

Ralsei shivers, inching closer to her mother.

“…yeah,” Dess says, quiet, and for a moment Ralsei is drawn into her, folded against her chest. She can hear the steady beat of Dess’s heart, the off-kilter thrum of magic. “That stuff’s dangerous. Stay away from it. If the dark ever tried to get you…”

“I don’t want it to get me,” Ralsei whispers, clutching for her mother’s arm.

Dess is woken with a grunt when a pointy figure lands on her stomach.

“Dess!” The voice is Kris’s, a loud whisper, and when she blinks open her eyes it is to see the kid digging their knees into her chest through the blankets, lit only by what weak moonlight trickles in through the bedroom window. Their antlers are knocked askew on their head, and even with her bleary eyes Dess reaches out to straighten them, some strange instinct.

“Dess!” Kris’s voice raises. “Dess! I gotta show you something!”

“At…” Dess scrubs at her eyes, glancing to the clock on her nightstand. “…two in the morning?”

Kris nods. Dess mumbles, “wouldn’t you rather wake Chara?”

Kris is already shaking their head, pawing at her chest with even more force. Dess literally is not even wearing a shirt. Or pants. Quite frankly she’s lucky she bothered to wear underpants to sleep. Next to her Chara hasn’t stirred, though she’s sure that won’t last much longer if she doesn’t get Kris out of here.

…two in the morning though, seriously?

“Okay, fine,” she says, sitting up and running her fingers through her messy hair to try and mostly keep it out of her eyes. Kris perches in her lap, hugging her arm against them, and despite it all—she has slept like shit for the past few days—it still brings a fond smile to her face. She drops her free hand to ruffle their hair, taking care not to dislodge their antlers. “You little harbinger. Just lemme like throw on a bra or something. Shh, don’t wake Chara.”

Kris giggles, mimes zipping their lips shut. Little nightmare of an eight-year-old. They’re tiny enough that when she stands she can just pick them up, held under the armpits, though she’s nowhere near as good as Chara is at the whole carrying-a-kid-one-handed thing. Instead she sets them down and pushes them towards the door, and thankfully they seem to get the point, scurrying back out.

What she wouldn’t give to fall back asleep right now.

Least Chara slept through it. She watches the slumbering form of her spouse before she actually goes to dig out a bra, the rise and fall of xir chest. It’s—weird. It’s her fifth night sleeping here. She hadn’t even planned to come home. It was just, halfway through a schema bash, like she’d stepped into a freezing shower. Couldn’t do it. She packed up that day, which mostly just meant grabbing her bag she kept on her at all times anyways, and dove down into the tunnels that would send her closest.

Still had to pay like way too much for an Uber, but.

Once she’s mostly decent she heads out of her room and down the hallway, where Kris is waiting, perking up upon seeing her and grabbing her hand. They drag her down the hall and into the living room, shoving her onto the couch and clambering into her lap before she’s even gotten comfortable.

“Harbinger?” Dess asks. Kris hums, nestling against her.

“Gotta show you something!” They twist around to grin, their eyes practically shining. The living room is much better lit than her room—Chara keeps a lamp on in case the kids wake up—and in the warm orange glow she can see the freckles smattered across their face, fawn-flecked. “So I couldn’t sleep and I was digging through the closet—”

“You were what,” Dess says.

Kris continues, ignoring her. “—and I found this in there!” They take something out of their pocket and press it into her hands, though with them taking up like her entire lap it’s a bit hard to see what it is. Dess squints and brings the object closer to her face. “You make music?!”

“Music?” Dess asks, squinting harder. “What are you—”

The object’s form comes together all-at-once. CD case. The edge of the cover paper is ripped, because she fucked up putting it in. The art is all Asriel’s—he really captured the punk-rock stage persona she’d always dreamed of. Even if he was still in his only drawing anime eyes phase.

She can still remember making it. Prying out the disc from some CD case she stole from Uncle Asgore’s truck, proclaiming to Asriel, my stuff’ll be better than whatever lame country shit your dad listens to. He’d laughed, beaming at her. She was 16 then—she didn’t know a damned thing about the bunker. Or about making music, really. The recording quality was straight ass. She’s pretty sure Noelle and Kris barged in at some point, demanding to be included. Asriel kept it on the track. It’s cute, he told her, maybe one day they’ll join us!

Us? she’d said, grinning at him. You’re just a glorified fan. Who’s the one doing all the singing and guitar work?

Asriel shoved at her. You’d be nowhere if you didn’t have someone to draw the cover! And mix all the songs!

Yeah, yeah. She shoved back. She sure as shit wasn’t learning the stuff he did. I’ll put you in the honorary mentions.

She had no idea she’d taken the CD with her, when she left. Doesn’t remember the lead-up to the leaving—just the desperation. Knowing, with every pulse of her soul, that something terrible was going to happen. That she had to fix it.

Kris is peering up at her, and she startles at their little hand on her arm.

“Do you still make music?” they ask.

“I…” Dess grips the CD tight enough that the edges of it bite into her palm. How the hell is she supposed to answer that? Just another thing I left behind. She remembers smashing her guitar, after the shelter. Felt like the right thing to do, there in her dark and empty room, her breaths ragged. Nothing sounded right, afterwards. Like the damned thing taunted her, always out-of-tune, and all the old songs she’d written sounded so nothing.

Still, though.

“…I don’t,” is what Dess says, finally. One of her legs is starting to fall asleep. Kris’s fault, she’s sure, though the kid is looking at her with such wide-eyed curiosity that she can’t bear to push them off. “I, uh, lost my guitar. You know how the schemas are.”

Kris nods with all the sincerity of an eight-year-old who has repressed every memory they have of entering schemas. (Or—Dess really, really hopes, at least.) And then they ask, “can we listen?”

No, Dess almost says. She couldn’t bear to hear Asriel’s voice again—Noelle’s—and she’s sure most of the music just sucks anyways. But instead of throwing the CD at the wall and smashing it once she sends Kris back to bed, her grip on it just grows tighter. All she has left of those times. Before the shelter.

Hard to imagine.

“…there might be one good song on there,” she says, and Kris cheers, pumping their fist into the air. God, this kid—like the music she made at 16 is worth this whole two AM adventure. They make a beeline to the kitchen and come back carefully carrying the CD player Chara keeps around for some reason, the cord dragging on the ground.

“Don’t trip,” she chides them, though Kris makes it without stumbling, setting the player on the coffee table and rushing over to plug it in. “And don’t get your hopes up! Most of the songs are, uh, bad. You aren’t hearing those.”

“But you made them!” Kris charges back over to her as she turns the player on, opening up the CD case to take out her CD. There is is—scrawled in her own messy hand. Wow, her handwriting truly has not improved since she was 16, has it? “They’re all gonna be amazing!”

“Lotta faith in me,” Dess says, as Kris just nods, shoving at her like that’ll make her go faster. “Okay! Jeez, harbinger.” She puts the CD in and glances at the handwritten tracklist. Right, so she’s skipping most of these, but…there’s one song she remembers. Put a lot of work into it. She’s pretty sure Kris has heard it before, actually. ‘Helped’ with writing it, which mostly means they drew on the extra pages she printed off for them.

…weird to think that they don’t remember it.

She moves to the right track, her hand hovering over the play button. Kris has leaned so far over the table she’s half-convinced they’re going to face-plant into it.

“This one is called, uh, Raise Up Your Bat,” Dess says. “Just—y’know. Some dumb thing I wrote.”

She turns the volume down—she is not waking up anybody else—and then…nothing left to it. She hits play.

It’s a weird experience, listening to her own voice sing. Did she really used to sound like that? And the guitar is all crunchy—Asriel did his best, but really neither of them had any idea how to work the technological side of recording music—but its…hers. She remembers the chords, the melody, the lyrics. How long she lay in her bed, chucking her eraser up at her ceiling, trying to make it just right.

Kris is jumping around in-time to the music, and it brings a grin to her face, seeing them so happy. When they half-dance, half-leap near her, she reaches out a hand, to make sure their antlers don’t slip off.

“DESS!” Kris yells, smashing into her chest, and Dess laughs, startled, as they drag her upright, bouncing on her hooves. “Dess! This is so cool!!!!! You gotta teach me music too!”

“Heh, well.” She spins them. Kris shrieks, giggly. “Y’know, when you were little—like, smaller than you are now,” and she ruffles their hair, teasing. Kris mouths harmlessly at her hand, still giggling, as she picks up the pace to head-bang to her own song. Kris copies her, jumping up and down. “You would pluck around on the piano a bit. I bet I could find you one.”

She had plans to help teach them. She doubts she can get them an actual piano—quite frankly she’s still not sure how her parents ever came into possession of one—but a keyboard or something, maybe. They loved it, back then, plinking away on the keys. Dess was self-taught and half-competent. It’s the one instrument she played that she didn’t end up breaking, though granted most of that was because it would be much more obvious than the stuff locked in her room.

…what happened to her old guitar, after she left? Thrown out, probably. Its warm wood splintered. Strings all snapped.

Would the music work for her, if she tried again?

She’s not sure how long she and Kris are there, in the living room. They drag her into dancing, and it’s fun, even if it’s just the one song they keep playing. Kris is inexpert, mostly just jumping around and dragging her, but they’re delighted despite that, and she sorta loves the way they try to copy her, start singing along on relisten number ten when they’ve started to get a handle on the lyrics. Dess doesn’t join them—can’t gather up the energy—but their little voice, half-shriek, is more dear than her own, anyways.

They only stop when Kris’s exhaustion catches up to them, the kid swaying in place, which is when Dess presses pause and says, “okay, you should probably go to bed.”

“Nnnnoo…” Kris whines, as she picks them up, wrapping their arms around her side and nuzzling into her fur. “Don’t wanna…wanna stay with you…”

“Well, I gotta sleep too, harbinger.”

“But what if I wake up ‘n you’re gone away?” They grip her tighter, and something catches in Dess’s throat.

“…I won’t be,” she says. The words stick like thorns as she speaks, but she manages to spit them out. She sits back on the couch rather than bring Kris to their room. “We can sleep out here. I’ll just stay on the couch with you. Won’t move at all. Promise.”

Kris mumbles, “say that a lot.” But they grip her tighter, their eyes drifting shut. “Love you Mom…”

When Dess blinks, her eyes are wet. Which is stupid. Kris is asleep, at least. Their breathing levels out. She’s pretty sure they’re drooling on her knee.

What the fuck is she doing, back here? There’s schemas to bust. Worlds to save. People to keep safe, and how can she do that if she’s here, staring at Kris? They’re so tiny, against her. Such a little scrap of a monster. Their antlers have been knocked askew again. Their fingers grip into her fur. Like they couldn’t bear to ever let her go.

“I was wondering where you were,” says Chara’s voice, and Dess startles, jerking up to see xir stood in the hallway, though xe enters the living room proper once she notices. “I was half-convinced you’d left already.”

Dess flushes. “Please tell me you didn’t hear the song.”

Chara shrugs. “Not much. The tail end, I assume?” Xe smiles at her, crossing the living room to join her on the couch, and Dess shifts, lifting up her arm not trapped by a sleeping Kris to let Chara cuddle up to her. “It’s sweet. Staying out here with them.”

Dess looks away. “Dunno. Just—they’re so little.” She glances to Kris, smoothing down their hair. “I didn’t know they were still this little.”

Chara hums. Agreement, probably. Dess could move Kris—shift them onto Chara’s lap, or between the two of them—but…she doesn’t. Just keeps petting their hair. It’s not really the same color as her fur—doesn’t have enough red for that—but it’s dark like hers. She settles her hand there between their antlers. Their little chest rises and falls.

“Would you ever try music again?” Chara asks, and Dess glances to xir. “What I heard, I liked it. You never told me.”

Dess shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like I have time. Music’s…I mean, compared to saving the world, it’s kinda…moot.” She elbows xir, light. “Plus, I think you might be a bit biased. I was like, 16. I didn’t know shit yet.”

Chara’s quiet, and so Dess follows xir example. It’s an odd sort of silence, settled across her heart. The room is lit orange-silver by the lamp and the moon, half-full through the window. Kris snores a bit, little growly sounds, which tug at the corner of Dess’s mouth. Their head is pillowed in her lap, as they curl up like a puppy.

“They really adore you, you know.” Chara breaks whatever stillness has fallen over them both, nodding down to Kris. “When you aren’t here—I swear, half their conversations lead back to when you’re coming home again.”

Dess shifts. Her legs have well and truly fallen asleep.

“Maybe I’ll try it,” she says, off to the vague distance of the far wall. “Might be nice.”

“Would be, I think.” says Chara.

Eventually, Chara falls back asleep, too. But Dess doesn’t.

ive been writing about dess and kris since the START of my dr fics basically. okay actually based on post history it was like a month later (dr c2 drops sep 17 2021 -> my first fic tagged w/ dess & kris is posted oct 31 2021) BUT SAME DIFFERENCE. i think i actually wrote the first ever dess & kris fic posted to ao3 if you search by date posted and go to the first one THATS ME BABEYYYYYYYYYYYYY my legacy <3

so um yeah theyre my favorites too which is why ive written like so many different versions of their dynamic. this post absolutely will not cover them all bc how i wrote kris & dess in my c2 era fics while a big big part of how i'll go on to characterize them particularly in drk im not in that stage of my life anymore and we've learned more about dess since then. like i used to joke that dess was my favorite deltarune character despite being referenced like twice. i cannot make this joke anymore now that knightdess is around BUT LIKE. IVE BEEN HERE SINCE THE START NUMBER ONE DESS FAN. NOBODY CAN TAKE THIS TITLE FROM ME!!!!!!!!!!

anyways! here im just gonna focus on their drk dynamic and their dynamic in my current postcanon dr world ideas, which is how ive been writing them in.....most everything else ive posted recently lol, like no dogs allowed, presumably dead arm, that one dess pov fic i think it was im outside the door, at least two fics im currently writing. a lotta this stuff might apply to my earlier works but like that 'era' of my fic is over lol, we have more deltarune now and i said what i wanted to say at that time and now im saying new things.

SO FOR DRK!!! i think drk is the straightest line from my stuff back then to now, bc drk was born in that era!!!! drk is actually born from this one human dess au i wrote AND I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS ON A HUMAN DESS. like is it canon no not even a little bit but in regards to her relationship w/ kris in that sort of au (bc dess would be bodily human but transspecies--shes a monster! like kris) is SO FUN but thats the core of a fic i havent posted yet so i'll wait til then to talk more about that. BUT ANYWAYS this is the dess & kris relationship of 'older sister + kid sibling' taken to its most extreme version aka oops!!!!!! youre a mom now. fuck.

kris has always always always idolized dess to a degree they havent with anybody else. dess is like, such a foundational part of their sense of self because she is the only person who is ever 100% in their corner. kris's species identity is the one thing they struggle with the most--well that and being loveless aro--and both of these are things that dess just GETS, yknow? kris says theyre a monster, cool, kid's a monster now, dess doesnt know why people are making a fuss about it. and then dess is ALSO aromantic (tho not loveless, plus shes allo while kris doesnt use the split attraction model) which!! look at that. something she and kris can bond over (tho this doesnt really come til theyre a teen)

but basically dess is just. Herself. as i write her i think shes never been the most likable person in general, but for the people she cares about she REALLY cares about them, and at the same time she always treats kris as a full-fledged person vs asriel who tends more towards babying them and being overprotective. kris really likes this!!! with dess they feel like a person and when she believes in the things they say--that they are a monster--its easy for kris to believe it too because if dess believes it, it has to be true!!!

and in drk this is all blown up even more because to me this dynamic is to an extent like...it boxes you in. once you are put into the role of 'mother' you sort of dont get to leave it, or, at least, its going to be a really big struggle to. and dess never asked for this. what leads to dess taking kris is a mix of a psychotic break, dark world trauma, and the only friend she really has not believing her and turning his back on her and she does the only thing she can think to do in that state. and of course she regrets it but once shes out of hometown she is OUT, because if she goes back it is going to kill her. like kris i think dess also tended towards suicidal thoughts, its just she hides it pretty well from the kids, and in drk the dark worlds sort of take that same place, as this thing that harms her but shes not really in a place to realize that yet.

anyways in drk dess is kris's mom, because no other person has filled that spot for them (they dont remember tori + asgore, they were little when they were taken and they were closer to dess anyways, and its easier to just kinda...smooth over the cracks and not bother with what was left behind.) also the age difference here is a lot more than it usually is, in my typical stuff kris is ~10 and dess ~18 when she leaves, in drk kris is like 6 and dess 18. but like. dess doesnt want to be that to them. but she cant NOT be this for them. but she cant be this for them because she never wanted to be a parent, and shes deeply deeply uncomfortable with this role, of having to be responsible for a whole entire life, of having this kid who looks up to her and holds onto her every word and sure they did that before but it was just DIFFERENT before, okay. and she cant go back to that and she does hate it.

BUT LIKE. at the same time. she does love kris. as a kid sibling. and like, to some degree kris can pick up on this. they dont usually call her mom to her face (its 'dess' unless they're sleepy, distressed, and if talking to other people without dess around they call her their mom) but That Is Her Role In Their Life.

IT IS JUST SO VERY MESSY. as drk goes on dess does have to confront and deal with this and figure out where to do next and realize how much she really has harmed kris. i dont think things are ever fully repaired for them here. i think it goes too deep and neither of them really know what they're supposed to do in the roles circumstance has slotted them into.

does kris resent dess for taking them? i think its more complicated than that. because the thing is for all her flaws? drk kris is a monster. drk kris is a monster, and GETS to be a monster, and never, not ever, has been made to feel like they are anything but. when shes around she DOES like hanging out with them, and taking them places, and half the reason she keeps going back into dark worlds is because she believes this is how she keeps kris safe from them. and she fails. kris absolutely gets wrapped up in this, but like, DESS realizes. dess apologizes to them. dess is very much aware that she has fucked up. she knows its best chara gets full custody of the kids. and yet. despite it all. despite EVERYTHING, she and kris still want...something. its just all they have are these broken pieces that cant really fit together.

AND NOW ONTO MY POSTCANON STUFF...

i think here is where im going to talk about dess choosing to leave bc it fits well with this thought ive been having recently, which is this idea that dess leaving was the best thing she could have done for her and kris's relationship. of course she doesnt know this at the time. but what it does is like, for all her time lost in the dark, she doesnt like...experience it, really, not in its full chronogical order. so when she does come back (1) she still visually appears to be the knight (maybe some minor changes but when i write postcanon dess stuff that is the image i am drawing from) and (2) she isnt like 24 or however old she is 'supposed' to be. its this messy blur of identities and she doesnt feel like a kid but she doesnt feel like an adult, either. shes nebulously 18. and this means kris, rather than being like 8 years younger than her and only ever a kid sibling, theyre...a lot closer to someone she might've been friends with.

because thats sort of what im getting at with a lot of my postcanon dr stuff. its that dess and kris, if given the chance, couldve been BEST friends. they really couldve made it! but it is only after so much has been taken. like, the way i kinda see things playing out and how i see the backstory of my specific dr postcanon world, is that basically, kris does betray the fun gang, sides with carol, in trying to get dess back. and they very nearly succeed! and it is going to kill them, and dess sees this, and realizes that if she lets this happen, kris will die. she will come back exactly as she would be, and kris will die. and she says FUCK THAT SHIT, and drags them out of the dark with her, and so kris lives, and dess stays the knight, and carol loses them both.

does this all kinda conflict a bit with the idea of dess leaving YES but like, as i kinda see it happening is like, shes found the bunker before this. shes aware of dark worlds and theyre haunting her, and she knows SOMETHING is going to hurt the kids (maybe she sees bits and pieces of the prophecy, thats usually the path i tend too bc it ties best w my themes anyways), and so she chooses to go back and face it and idk stuff happens then, but the important thing is the darkness does not take her: she steps into it, and then comes out the other side having made it herself. also dess is nonbinary now. she/it dess for the win.

SO AFTER ALL OF THAT. dess and kris are left in a world that is changing and neither of them know what they're supposed to do. dess loses her friendship with asriel, which was already sort of on the rocks when she left (asriel is the last person she goes too, he refuses to believe in anything shes saying) and is made even worse because he doesnt understand why she wont just turn back into who she REALLY is, doesnt believe dess when it says that it is dess, and it is the knight, AND IT LIKES BEING THIS. kris is left alive in a world they never planned to have to see, feeling very disconnected from the friends they betrayed (even tho their friends will forgive them, probably already have after all the near-death experiences), and, of course, stuck with the same soul, the same body, the same human parts. i probably havent ever explicitly said this but ive implied it in a lot of fics: kris has and always will have the worst species dysphoria in the world. having to live life in a human body, for kris, is something that means they will always sort of want to die, because there is no meaningful way for them to transition (in this i think they are deeply jealous of noelle + ralsei, bc they get to transition while kris never will). and it isnt even a gender thing for them, bc i think probably at one point kris did try estrogen. and like. the problem is that kris's ideal body is 'coyote.' and they do not make coyote hrt. and they can take as much estrogen as they want and it wont fucking fix a thing, so why bother? theyre going to hate their body either way, because what they hate is everything they cannot ever change.

(and as a sidenote i personally really dislike 'magical transition' stories. usually this is done in regards to gender, but i do it here for species, even if maybe i could see someone arguing that like, dr is a different world, maybe they have that technology there. but they dont HERE. a lot of who i write kris for is, well, i mean, younger versions of myself, but also for people in THIS WORLD, who are going through the same thing. i think stories for people who are transpecies, otherkin, therian, identify as other-than or non-human in any way, are severely lacking and so few people write them. and while i have written stories that do not end happily (hi presumably dead arm) im like. so many people already dont see these identities as real, or this dysphoria as 'valid.' and ive always found that for me, it is this sort of raw depiction of grief that gets to me. that says it DOES suck. it will suck. maybe you wont ever fix a single fucking thing, and youre going to want to die for the rest of your life.

but also i want all of us to live, so, so badly. and so i write.)

and so kris and dess gravitate towards each other because what else is left? like i said before theyre a lot closer in age now, and neither of them really feel like this world was made for them. dess doesnt want to get a job, doesnt want to go to college, all this stuff its mother is pushing onto it, the same mother who wanted back a daughter who never existed then and CERTAINLY doesnt exist now. kris never thought they'd live much past 15 or so. doesnt really have the ability to leave hometown in any real way (being perceived as human is like dying to them, and at least in hometown everyone knows their particular brand of 'strangeness.' its not good but its better than the alternative.) and even if dess doesnt have the same species dysphoria as kris she is ALSO now living in a body that doesnt entirely feel like its own, yet, and i think one thing is that, like, dess can't speak anymore. she can make some noises and eventually she does have a sort of language of her own made up of various shadowvoid noises, but that takes a lot of time. so kris teaches her sign language. and dess, who has before been able to take up all the space she wants, now has to write down everything it wants to say, or drag peoples' attention to her, and like. its hard. it is so, SO hard.

but i think in this way also dess and kris by having each other save each other. dess has always been a bit better about not dying than kris, and so they do basically form a suicide pact of like, if we go, we're doing it together. which helps a lot bc dess is full of spite and wants to live because asriel and her mom think it isnt living right. and its like okay fuck you then. im going to learn how to communicate again and im going to learn how to play guitar again and im going to LIVE, and its not going to be because of mom, because mom didnt fucking save me. kris and i saved each other.

after it all kris and dess have something queerplatonic as hell going on, not that either of them would describe it as such. dess cant really stay in one place too long, but her magic is like, shadow and void and built out of what made dark worlds, so she can get to kris no matter where she is. they start a band together. it takes them years to write their first album, and they have to relearn a lot of things. dess wont ever really get to sing (she bricks like every single electronic that is near her for too long so any sort of electronic communication device is out for her.) kris isnt ever going to have a body they're happy in. but...what dess and kris have, at this point, cant really be put in a box. its not romantic or platonic or familial. it isnt love, because kris doesnt experience love. but it is THEIRS. they've finally managed to break out of every single box the world would have dared to put them in.

and it is because of that this is the best path their relationship could take. theyve made it. they survived it all.

“Dess!”

It takes all of one and a half seconds for Kris to attach themself to Dess’s leg when she enters her apartment, carrying all four of Chara’s reusable grocery bags on her arms because she is not about to walk up the stairs with the groceries more than once, and yes she had to walk up the stairs, because of course the elevator decided to break the day she came back.

“Aw, hey, harbinger,” Dess says, elbowing Kris with her slightly more free arm. It’s the arm with only one grocery bag as opposed to three. Her bracing arm. “Lemme—I don’t want to drop a carton of milk on your head—”

Kris giggles but lets go, holding out their hands. “I can help!”

“Do not trust them,” comes Chara’s voice from the kitchen, as Dess sidesteps Kris, who whines and charges after her, nearly snagging an antler on her jacket. Thankfully, she’s known this kid since they were practically a baby: she is very good at navigating around an excited Kris. “They’ve taken to throwing food at the walls.”

“It’s fun!” Kris complains. Dess enters the kitchen fully and dumps her bounty of bags onto the counter, her arms immediately relieved from all the weight she put onto them. Though she’s a lot better with it now. If there’s once things the schemas force her to do, it’s workout. “I exploded the orange juice.”

“And now we don’t get orange juice with breakfast,” Chara says, approaching the pair of them. To Dess, xe says, “did you get—”

“Frisk’s very specific brand of chips?” Dess gestures to one of the bags. “Yeah. Nearly got in a fight with this middle-aged lady over them and everything. The things I do for you, kid!” Her final sentence she yells, hopefully loud enough that Frisk can hear it, wherever they are in the house. She’s answered by a very loud, very crunchy explosion VFX, which is Frisk for utterly delighted. They’ll probably have to find a better hiding spot. Maybe she can open a secret schema in the upper cupboards. “I also managed to get your terrible chocolates.”

“Ah, did you? How sweet.” Chara ignores her playful distaste entirely, and Dess rolls her eyes with a snort, crossing over to drag xir into a hug. It’s always this that brings her back—Chara’s warmth against her, that sappy look xe gets in xir eyes that xe swears Dess is just making up, but nah. She’s seen it. She knows.

“Dess!” Kris wriggles their way between Dess and Chara, jabbing her in the stomach with one of their antlers as they twist up to look at her. “Stop being boring!!! I gotta show you the stuff we made.”

“Watch out for Legos,” Chara says, as xes step away from Dess. She whines at xir loss and Chara just smiles at her. “Though I guess having hooves sort of defeats them, doesn’t it?”

“Human feet are very dumb,” Kris says with an air of solemnity. “Dess c’mon! FRISK I’M GONNA SHOW DESS THE CITY!”

No response from Frisk. Kris says, “they’re probably cool with it.”

Dess asks, “city?”

“Watch where you step,” is Chara’s final piece of advice, which, very helpful of her dearest and beloved spouse. Xe just smiles at her and returns to putting the groceries away as she’s dragged off towards the hallway by Kris.

“Yeah city!” Kris says, stopping in the living room. “We’ve been building it for like ever! Before Ba said it had to stay in our room but we’re very convincing.”

More likely, Chara decided it was no longer worth arguing over. But Dess says, “alright then. Let’s see it.”

“You’re gonna love it!!!” Kris grabs her hand again and hauls her off towards the hallway, where…

“Oh, wow,” Dess says, blinking, as Kris drags her down the hallway and into their room, just barely managing to avoid stepping on the absolute mess of wooden train tracks spiraling down the hallway. The kids’ room is even grander: practically every inch of carpet is covered by some sort of toy. Massive Lego buildings take up the chunk of space in front of the dresser. Littlest Pet Shop houses are pushed up against the beds. A pile of various school supplies she hasn’t seen since school ended seem to form some sort of fort against the closet door, entirely blocking it from being opened. What must be every single toy the kids own—all their various figurines, monster dolls, and stuffed animals—have been spread out across the room, in buildings, on the train tracks, which snake throughout the room. Some sort of throne that appears to be constructed out of balled-up bits of yellow construction paper sits in the very center of the kids’ room, with Frisk’s favorite stuffed animal—a brindled hamster Chara got them—sat atop it.

Frisk rolls over onto their back, watching her upside-down on their bed, and blinks.

“Hey, Frisk,” she greets. “You guys made all of this?”

“Frisk did the train stuff!” Kris skips over the various houses and plops down right in front of the throne. “I built the Lego houses but Ba helped with, um, that one.” They point to the only Lego house that looks like it even followed the instructions a little bit. Truly a chaotic mess of bricks and colors, the rest are. “And then we did the bone pile together.”

Dess blinks. “I’m sorry, bone pile?”

Kris points to the throne. “Marigold killed all the people who tried to fight her to become the mayor and now she sits on their bones ‘cause it shows she’s in power.”

“…yeah, fair enough.” Who is she to police the weird games kids play? It’s honestly impressive.

“I think she should open up schemas and fight them like you do but Frisk says that’s stupid,” Kris pouts, turning to glare at their sibling. Frisk sticks out their tongue and throws a pillow at their face, which leads to Kris throwing the stuffed hamster, and Dess very wisely steps to the side so she’s not also getting pelted by various soft things.

…it’s always so unnerving when they talk about the schemas. With all the ease of someone who’s never been into one before. Who doesn’t feel the darkness of them, sunk into their skin. Moving to sit on Kris’s bed while the kids shriek and play Dess rubs at her own arm, and where her fur sticks up she can see it, almost: the darkness that has made a home there, remnants of her form down in the dark.

Sometimes she wonders if it’ll take her over, one day. Burst out when she’s come home.

She shakes her fur flat and tugs down her jacket’s sleeve. Yeah right. She beats darkness back. Won’t ever let the schemas worm their ways into this place, this last place she has that is her own. The guild is good and all, but—it’s not home. Not like this tiny apartment. Not like Chara.

Across the room, Kris shrieks laughter and says, “let Marigold go into the schemas!”

Frisk is shaking their head, signing, “no, no, no,” through their attempts to hit Kris with their pillow. She can see their tablet lying on their bed, clearly forgotten—it’s been more decorated since the last time she saw it, new charms and stickers stuck across it. The source of their new love of sound-effects. Since neither kid seems to care about the expensive communication device Dess sighs, stands, sidesteps both of them to grab it and at least move it to the dresser, so it’s not knocked onto the floor by accident.

As she sets it down—only nearly getting kicked in the face twice, which, honestly, pretty good—she hears Kris saying, “Noelle would let me do it!”

Dess freezes. Or possibly the world freezes.

“Dess, I’ve put the groceries away, if you want to help me start—” Chara stops in the doorway. Dess barely hears xir. Just—the pounding of her heart. The beating of her soul. Or maybe everything’s at a stand-still. Hard to tell. Mostly she just hears Kris’s voice, echoing. Noelle.

Chara says, “what are you fighting about now?”

“Frisk won’t let Marigold go into the schemas!!” Kris says, as Frisk just takes their pillow and whaps Kris upside the head with it. “Which is stupid! Noelle would agree with me! Ba tell them!!”

“Marigold is Frisk’s, Kris, they get final say over what she does and doesn’t do in your games. Why don’t you have one of your toys go into the schemas instead?”

“None of mine are the mayor,” Kris pouts. “…but they could go into the schemas to get power to fight Marigold!!! FRISK I’M GONNA HAVE KNIFE FIGHT MARIGOLD JUST YOU WAIT!!!!”

Kris runs to their bed, digs one of their own stuffed animals out from under the covers—a ruddy-coated coyote Dess picked up for them that one time a schema spat her out in the middle of a zoo—and then darts right out the door. Frisk barely wastes a second before grabbing Marigold and rushing after them, leaving Dess and Chara in the kids’ room, surrounded by toys and pillows and something cold settling into Dess’s fur.

“…Noelle…”

She jumps at Chara’s hand on her arm. “Did they mention Noelle again?” Xe frowns. “I think it is a friend of theirs,” and suddenly Chara’s voice is so far-away, and Dess is back there, back at the doors of the shelter, staring down the heavy darkness in them, and her mind is screaming, demanding, and she has to do this, is the only one who can do it, can save them all, and there is a very, very tiny hand in her own. “Though I have no idea where they met. I’ve never met this Noelle and Kris only started mentioning the name after school let out…maybe someone they found at the park?”

Sinking. That’s the word. That’s this feeling, this chill in her fur, the frozen edge of her thoughts. A name she can’t think. A sister she…

Noelle, are you…?

“Ah—Dess?” Chara’s voice turns worried. “Dess? Dear, you’re shaking. Is everything—”

“Fine,” she says, and jerks away from xir touch. It’s a loss of warmth but this is one barrier she can’t cross. She can’t get Chara tangled up in her own mission. It’s hers, hers to have and hold so xe never has to, so the darkness can’t ever dare to try and take xir again. “I’m fine, Chara. It’s fine.”

Kris doesn’t remember. They can’t remember, not here, not now. Four years and they’ve never even so much as breathed her name. Why would it come to them now? It’s just faded childhood memories. It can’t be anything more than that, because if they remember, if they start asking—

Dess’s hands seize up in her pockets, grasping for might and magic that isn’t there.

Just a coincidence. Just a friend with the same name.

“I have to go,” Dess says, and suddenly it’s all too-tight: the apartment, Chara, the kids laughing. The walls press too-close. Like a schema. Like living darkness, and she can see it, in the shadowy corners, reaching out, spilling out. “I—”

“Dess,” says Chara. Nothing else. Xir voice cracks. Xir hand is still hovering in the air from where she left it. She misses the warmth. She couldn’t ever dare to touch something that hot again. “You promised me two weeks.”

“Next month,” Dess says, but xe’s just so distant. So, so far away. So detached from the shadows Dess has found around her. “I’ll come back next month.”

When she leaves, Chara doesn’t follow her.

She’s not sure why some part of her expected xir too.

It’s not like she’s ever let xir before.

------

It’s around eight in the morning that Asriel hears a knock on the door, sat at his desk chair and staring blankly at the black screen of his desktop he hasn’t even turned on, which means really he’s been watching his reflection in the dust since he sat down twenty minutes ago, when Mom rushed in and told him that it was happening today.

He’s sort of known it was coming. After all the arguing. After Mom kicking Dad out. After Dad started crashing at the Holidays. After, after, after. It happened before, of course, but it only got worse after Kris…

After…

Asriel sniffs, and pushes himself up standing. They still haven’t cleaned Kris’s half of the room, so he pretends like it’s not there, which is. Easy. So long as he doesn’t look that way.

It doesn’t take him very long to get downstairs, and to the front door. He unlocks and opens it to see his aunt and Noelle standing there, Noelle not really looking at him, already twisting out of Carol’s grip and wandering into the house.

“Oh—hi, Noelle,” Asriel tries, but she’s already past him. “And, uh, hi, Aunt Carol. What’s…going on?”

Not that Noelle coming over isn’t—new. She’s probably spent half her life in this house, after all. But that was when Dess was around, dragging her sister along whenever she came to visit. That was back when Kris was still here, when—

“Asriel,” Carol greets. “I need you to babysit Noelle.”

It’s the first he’s seen of either of them in about six months.

Coincidentally, it’s also been about six months since…

“Oh, um, yeah!” Asriel nods, a little too hard. “Yeah. Yeah I can do that. Um…why? Is—is everything okay? With being mayor, and—”

Carol holds out a hand and Asriel shuts up. “Everything is fine,” Carol says. “I just can’t work from home any longer.”

“Oh.” Asriel…wasn’t aware she’d been working from home. If he’s being honest, he’s not even tried to approach the Holiday house. With its cold walls and looming shadows. How could it be anything even approaching a home, without Dess to fill it?

He wrings his hands together. “How’s, um,” Asriel glances back into the house, where Noelle’s made her way into the kitchen and doesn’t seem to be paying them any attention, instead opening up the cupboard with all the art supplies. Still, Asriel lowers his voice and asks, “how’s Uncle Rudy? “

“He is in a coma, Asriel,” Carol says, and her voice is the sort of sharp it’s been ever since Dess disappeared. Not that she wasn’t cold before—Asriel was best friends with Dess, of course he got to see his aunt’s anger a lot—but now it’s like whatever warmth was left has been entirely sapped away.

“Right.” Asriel looks down. “Um, Mom’s—she and Dad are, uh, in the city. For all the.” He wrings his hands together. Dad hasn’t slept in this house for five months. “…yeah.”

“I trust you to watch Noelle,” Carol says. “And—keep an eye on her? I’ve been.” She pauses, seems to mull over her words for a bit, and finally says, “worried.”

“Worried about what?”

“Just.” When Carol’s gaze lingers on her daughter Asriel follows it. Noelle seems…fine. She’s scribbling on some paper on the kitchen table. But then again, Noelle’s just seemed…fine…since Dess…

Since Dess…

Asriel says, “okay. I get it. Um, can I call you if I need to?”

“You can. My personal number, not the mayor’s office. The secretary won’t let you through without me breathing down her neck.” Carol takes a step back. “Take care of yourself.”

“Um, yeah! You too!” He watches until Carol’s turned the corner and he can no longer see her, before he closes the door and sighs, burying his head in his hands.

No improvement for Uncle Rudy. His parents are in the city filing for a divorce. His little sibling is dead, his best friend is dead, and Noelle is drawing pictures at the kitchen table like nothing at all has gone wrong.

He sinks down into the couch. It’s moments like these that he replays that final conversation he ever had with Dess—that conversation he hasn’t told anybody. What would it change? She’s dead and gone either way, lost down into the shadows of her own mind. There’s something underneath this town, Yeah, right, Dess. Something—Asriel huffs. Inventing some new game again. Maybe he should’ve told someone. About her flights of fancy. About those days where she’d vanish off the radar and he’d have to cover for her, claim she was at this-or-that club after school, they’d gone to the library to do homework, she’d just lost track of time and had been at the lake all night. He knows she nearly got arrested once—she was able to get his dad to let it slip—though he never figured out what for. It was just…Dess. That’s just how she was. He got used to it. Grabbed her arm to keep her from running off again.

He never thought she’d take Kris, though.

Asriel sucks in a shaky breath.

He really, really hopes it didn’t hurt.

“Azzy?” A little hand tugs at his sleeve, and Asriel jumps, wiping at his eyes, to see Noelle, watching him with a tilted head and her doe-eyes wide. “You weren’t answering me.”

“S—sorry, Noelle. I’m…yeah. Sorry. What’s up?” He gives his eyes one final scrub to make sure there’s no tears left, and all the while Noelle’s eyes don’t leave his face. Which—a little creepy. Kris was always the one to stare for too long. Sometimes long enough he thought they’d fallen asleep, only for them to—

To…

This time, Noelle clambers up into his lap. Her fur is scratchy-stiff against his own, the same sort of toughness Dess’s fur had, some different texture from his own, always much softer around the edges. She’s still all in soft browns, lacking any of her adult coloring. She’s so young. Barely any older than Kris.

“Azzy,” she says, again. There’s a softness to her voice that is so unlike Dess it jerks him back to the present, and he breathes, breathes again. She’s planted her hands on his chest. “Why are you sad?”

“I’m—I’m not sad, Noelle.” He shifts only to sit her down, and thankfully she goes with it, peering up at him with those big curious eyes. “Just…it’s been a lot.”

“You are too sad.” She crosses her arms. “Kris says.”

Asriel’s heart goes cold.

“K—” The name catches in his throat. “Noelle, Kris is—”

“You shouldn’t be so sad,” she continues, playing with the fur on his palm. “You should draw with me and Kris. We trade off ‘cause that way they get a turn too. Like over here!” She scrambles off the couch and Asriel can’t even move. The name keeps pounding in his head. They’re dead. They’re dead. His sibling is dead, and dead kids can’t draw with their friends.

“See!” Noelle’s grabbed her page of doodles off the kitchen table and trots back over to him. “I drew Mommy and Kris drew the tree in the kitchen and the piano and I drew them on the piano ‘cause they like it even if we’re really bad at playing, and—”

“Kris…” Asriel’s voice is faint. “What do you mean they drew with you? They—they aren’t here.”

Noelle scrunches up her nose. “Well that’s really mean ‘cause they’re right in front of you!”

Oh, how he wishes. How he wants, so deeply, for Noelle’s childish words to be the truth. For Kris to come charging down the stairs shrieking about whatever new terrible prank they have planned. For them to keep him up for three hours telling him all about the scary game they and Noelle played at their most recent sleepover. For Kris to exist, somewhere, beyond the fading memories of his own head.

Noelle sticks her tongue out and storms back over to the kitchen table. If Asriel focuses, he can hear her talking to herself. Talking to Kris.

That night when Carol comes to pick up Noelle Asriel pulls his aunt aside before Noelle’s even noticed she’s arrived, and he says, forcing the sentence out before he can choke on it, “she was talking about Kris like they were still around.”

Carol is quiet for a long, long while. She watches her daughter, Noelle playing by herself on the living room floor, her back to them. She is talking to herself, still. Giggles and emotes like someone is right there with her, some ghost of her best friend.

“She knows they’re dead,” Asriel says, stumbling, and Carol catches him with a hand to his back and doesn’t push him away when he stumbles against her arm. “Right?”

Carol just sighs.

“I don’t—I don’t want her to be sick, or, or crazy, I just. I want her to be normal. I want her to be okay.”

“I know,” Carol says. Her voice is like a frozen-over lake. Is this what she’s been seeing, all by herself? Stuck in a house so empty with one daughter dead and the other talking to people who aren’t alive anymore? “That’s what I want, too.”

Asriel whispers, “can you fix her?”

There is something about Aunt Carol steadying him. Some permission given, for him to slump against her side. She’s not warm like Mom or Dad are, but—she doesn’t fall. She keeps him standing.

“I will.” Carol takes his hand and looks him in the eye, and it’s like he’s young again, grinning up at his aunt and telling her that he and Dess did a great job babysitting, that he made sure Kris and Noelle ate a healthy dinner and didn’t bite each other and went to bed on time, beaming even wider at her acknowledgement—a hand on his head, a thank you, I knew you’d do well.