@learntoquit liked this for a starter.
♥ || With the new knowledge that Frisk had about other timelines, about the first fallen child-- of how the awful things they’d seen were not their own actions, but those of Chara-- it should’ve been easier to face Sans. Easier to look him in the eyes and not hear the whispers of I killed you I killed everyone rattling around in their skull.
Yet here they were, before the skeleton, and all they could think about was how torn-up the vision of Sans coated in his own blood made them. Their mouth felt dry, their hands all but paralyzed, pale green eyes struggling to settle on familiar eyesockets for more than a few moments at a time.
Swallowing hard, they looked down one last time, tucking a tuft of messy hair behind their ear-- then back up, lifting their hands to sign:
{ Mom wanted me to ask you if you were gonna be there for dinner tonight. She knows you’re busy and stuff so. }
The human child shuffled their boot-clad feet.
{ She’s making baked potatoes. }