#fontlocked

They don’t even remember what made them feel like the world was ending. They were just trying to hang out with Sans.

Chara’s been tentative about their visits with the skeleton. Frisk is adamant about staying out of Sans’ way, convinced he hates them because of a timeline the two had never stepped down, but Chara . . . Chara likes Sans. They think he’s fun. They think he’s lonely, and that’s a feeling they understand.

So they stop by his stand after work every once in a while. Bring him flowers and buy a ’dog in exchange. Tell a few bad jokes before starting to head home — and Sans usually walks them back.

They don’t know why, and they don’t ask why.

Chara knows sans wouldn’t give a straight answer.

Today had just been. . . difficult. A lot of orders to fill. Humans kept bumping into them on the way here. Loud noises kept interrupting their flow, and Chara is tilted off-balance.

So by the time they get to sans, they just . . . crumple.

“. . .”

The coat draped over them is hot and heavy. Sans is a madman for wearing this type of thing in august. But it’s weighted, and that heaviness grounds the little Royal. They sniff, and wipe their eyes, hugging a bit tighter around their knees.

“. . .

"Ughhh, I can't believe this guy. Does he think he's funny? He's just kind of a dick. Am I just sensitive? ... No, he is kind of an asshat? Glad you agree with me..."

Kris dragged their hands down their face, then puts their head in their hands.

"Okay, I'm dying to know how the whole skeleton thing works. Can you eat? Do you have to sleep? Are there a lot of skeletons where you're from? Oh! Are there zombies? We have zombies where I'm from. I even know how to make them!"

Welcome to scenic Isola Radiale, Sans!

You’ll be staying in TOWNHOUSE 218!

You’ll be able to use your shortcuts to teleport one (1) ward away.

You'll also receive a plastic water gun.

Enjoy your stay!

The gift he has isn't really wrapped either, per se— it's something hard and square loosely tied up with a heavy-looking red striped scarf, a solid handful of unfamiliar flowers tucked up into one of the folds. They're from places all around the Cotes ward; there doesn't actually appear to be more than one of any single kind of flower in the whole bundle.

"heya. congrats on another big year."

The big 'square' proves itself to be a book of absolutely unwieldy proportions. The cover proudly proclaims itself to be a... cursory guide on the flowering species of the Isola, complete with illustrations and color keys.

Sans has left a note on the inside…

The real flower press that seems to have manifested itself in the corner of the livingroom goes completely unremarked on by him. He's pretty sure someone will stub their toe on that later and it'll get back to Chara.

“Sans? You came too?”

Chara looks — absolutely delighted. This is probably the happiest he’s ever seen the kid, and that includes in whatever memories he might have of them underground. Because Sans came — even though Kris doesn’t like him, and more than that, Sans doesn’t like Frisk — he still came to celebrate. He still came to . .

To celebrate . . . Chara.

It’s a weird feeling, still. Chara doesn’t know what to do with it, so they fold it up and push it to the back of their head. Like they’re supposed to. Instead, they focus on gently untangling the scarf — the flowers laying in their lap — and they pull up the book, though their little arms tremble with the effort.

“—— !!!!

it is perfect!!!”

It’s exactly what they needed. Because this might be able to tell them once and for all if golden flowers exist in this place. Chara looks up at sans, fingers clinging around the book, and beams.

“Thank you, Sans. Uh! My dad made hot dogs. You can try them if you like. They are not like yours but they are still good.”

“Oh, sans?

Sans is Frisk’s big buddy. Frisk adores him. Thinks he’s so funny and silly. I didn’t really trust him at first, but. . . he has never done anything to hurt Frisk. I trust him with that.

"welp. i’m pitch black and covered in soot, but i’m alive." A pause. "so much for putting my best soot forward."

Chara snorts softly, pressing a hand to their face to try and hide the snicker. It’s hard to not laugh, though; Sans’ puns always reminded them of their mother.

[ TEA ] : accepting!

A cup of tea is placed before Desmond. He looks at it, his cheek in the palm of one hand, before he reaches out with his free hand and plucks it from the table. He takes a look at it, eyes examining the tea, trying to make sense of it.

It has a strong aroma, reminiscent of a certain condiment he had no strong opinions of- but he isn’t particularly fond of the idea of having to drink it. So when he does, it’s a small sip, and what he tests isn’t exactly what he expects.

It’s an earthy, mild flavor. Something he would have tasted in his childhood, surprisingly enough. It’s not his favorite, but it’s pleasant. A small smile creeps on the corners of his lips, as he sets the cup down.

He’ll nurse the rest of the drink.