Beneath the walls of the world, the ruins and debris, there was a walking man. Walking at a brisk pace and taking in the world around him, Swain was fascinated by what must have led up to this point. What causes this level of destruction? Was it reactionary? Plotted? An agonising mistake? However, it was not too long before the general noticed that he had seemingly gained a very small spy on his tail. Turning on his heel and stopping to face his follower, Swain kept his tone clipped and business-like.

5 minutes.

Ashen wings cast barely a shadow over the monsters under the eclipse. Looming over the small child, they paid no mind to it. Within those few minutes, ice would spike forth from his sword as it pierced the ground. Cracking instantly in the quake of the impact, cold wind and debris would launch the creatures into the air, impaling themselves as they fell.

Turning around quickly, the form of the man who had saved her would disappear in red mist, surrounding her like a thick cloud. With it she is caught and lifted with it as it weaves through the carnage.

Into safety, the mist gently puts her down, reforming into man only a few steps away.

It’s been two days.

Two days since you were taken from what should have been death, to this place, this little slice of Hell. You’re hungry and tired and lost, because there’s no way you’re going to ask for help. You don’t need it. You’re DETERMINED, you tell yourself, but your stomach growls for food and food costs money, something you don’t have. They gave you a knife and told you that you had an apartment, but were you given directions? You’re only a child. What did they expect of you? 

You’re only a child.

“I guess those people aren’t picky about who they contract...” This is the second human child he’s seen so far, and they look even younger than the first one. He knows that sometimes children can put up a good fight, given proper equipment (doesn’t he know this, better than anyone), but there aren’t any Gunmen in this town and frankly, this seems to be kind of pushing it.

Until now.

He had always been very good at recognizing those he deemed to be friends. As such, there was no way this could be anyone but The Human. So that’s why he could sprint to them with great confidence and yell with even greater confidence.

“HUMAN!! THERE YOU ARE!!!” He shouted. “I FINALLY FOUND YOU, THANK GOODNESS!” He had to skid to a halt in front of them, nearly falling over in the process. “HAD I KNOWN YOU WERE HERE, I WOULD HAVE CALLED YOU!! ACTUALLY, YOU SHOULD HAVE CALLED ME!! I EVEN HAVE MY OWN PHONE NOW!!!”

She could feel her fingers and her toes getting number with each icy footstep, her boots submerging into the snow and having to be dragged out with much more force than needed. Frostias was never this bad, so why was Zenith, the spring region, getting way more snow than the actual winter region? It confused her and irritated her to no end.

But her own grievances were of no concern; she had a kid with her who was probably suffering much more than she was. A kid who got lost in the blizzard, and was only trying to get home. The whole reason Undyne was in Zenith in the first place was because of being temporarily stationed in the unusually snowy region. It was her job to make sure the child got home safe, but soon, her vision wasn’t the best... Her head began to hurt. 

Her hands, placed on the child’s shoulders, were removed as soon as she felt something metallic instead of her normal black gloves made of leather. This frightened her, strangely, because when she looked at her hands, the gloves were replaced with silver gauntlets, and her whole body covered in a suit of thick armor, like a knight’s. The confused woman suddenly felt herself turning around, looking off into the whited out distance.

“Seven.” She said to the child, her back turned. “Seven human souls, and King Asgore will become a god.” She paused. “Six. That’s how many we’ve collected thus far.” She turned to face the child again, breathing through what seemed like a helmet to match the armor. Her breath almost made the metal feel moist. “Understand? Through your seventh and final soul, this world will be transformed.” She looked to the left. “First, however, as is customary for those who make it this far... I shall tell you the tragic tale of our people. It all started, long ago...” And her voice drifted for a moment, her lips parting, as she found herself staring blankly at the child.

“No, you know what?” She felt a pent up anger running through her system, and all of the sudden...

“SCREW IT!”

“WHY SHOULD I TELL YOU THAT STORY-”

“-WHEN YOU’RE ABOUT TO DIE!?!”

“NGAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

@gupida

Rose was almost surprised that looking for birthday presents this year wasn't as hard as it had been in previous years. She had more of an idea of what she was getting, and that was why though. Who knew that having a plan would make everything easier? It still wasn't going to necessarily be easy, but that was entirely because she had to buy presents for two of her loved ones. How dare they have a birthday on the same day despite not actually being twins.

Still, Rose couldn't complain, she'd rather worry about birthdays a single week out of the year instead of having to remember months besides December. She almost always got her brothers joke birthday presents anyway. This year, she had decided to go with something of a throwback for half of the present. Even though she had already bought them Heelys, she had her Noivern fly her all the way to Lilycove to go to their department store as an attempt to find a very particular shirt. If she couldn't find it here, it was back to Kalos where people actually seemed to have taste when it came to clothing. She just had to get her hands on a shirt that would let the world know about how okay her brothers were. (Which is the okayest, for the record.)

She knew that she shouldn't have put it off until the actual day before their birthday, but she was actually confident that she could find the shirt that she was looking for and have time to spare. So much time, that she might even buy a card for the both of them.

She could at least look at what kinds of cards that they had, this time of year there was always so many Christmas cards. That was the problem of having a December birthday, Christmas always overshadowed everything.

@passafrisk

“Two youths entwined by fate.” Shakespeare echoed his own words from the other day. He couldn't call it a story that hadn't been done before. In his time let alone, in the centuries that had since passed. Still, there was something about it that called to him. In grasping even the basics of how they had referred to each other, he was able to infer some few details. Or, at very least, details that fell within acceptable artistic license. Two halves of a whole that yet rejected each other, for fear of recognizing they were already whole. Certainly, even his own work had handily archived the endless struggle of man against his inner demons. Yet the average individual, fictional let alone physical, did not find themselves gazing into an abyss that gazed back. Teeth affixed in slyness. A knowing nod to fight denial. This much wasn't even the whole of their predicament.

“To die a thousand deaths, and live as many lives.” Well... he couldn't say that such a phenomenon was totally unheard of. Certainly, when he considered his own status as a heroic spirit, it was entirely possible that he himself had died and been reborn countless times as well. However, to hear of a figure who could make sure a claim, and then also recall each and every instance... Well, that was certainly something special. The gears in his head were starting to shift into place. A vague outline of a story. A child cursed to gaze into an ever-present omen of things to come. Determination to fight a future yet sighted, accepted. How far to fly? How far to fall?

It was perhaps too soon for him to be getting quite so far ahead of himself. He needed to know more. So when the opportunity rose, well... William Shakespeare was nothing if not opportunistic.

“So stoic a front put forth to hide an inner sorrow! O! Prometheus, I do weep for you! Yet! Yet! I dare to say...”

[['Tis one thing to be tempted, another thing to fall!]]

With those words, he finished the fanning of his feathers.

“Err, Frisk, was it?” He thrust out his hand. “William Shakespeare, no introductions needed I'm sure. You do recall our conversation from the other day, yes? Time and place permitting, mayhap you'll grace me with your story?”