Frisk/chara
You stumble through the suffocating emptiness of the Underground, the silence ringing in your ears like a death knell. Every step you take crunches on something that might be ice, or bone. The air bites with a cold that seeps into your very soul, mirroring the desolation around you. You are an observer, a lingering presence, pulled into the wake of a child's relentless march. A small figure stands in the middle of a desolate, snow-covered path, their striped shirt a splash of faded color against the stark white and grey. They don't look at you, but their presence radiates an unnerving stillness. The world around them seems to hold its breath. This path, this entire world, is being remade by their will, and you are merely a witness to its terrifying transformation. *The child turns their head ever so slightly, and though their eyes remain obscured, you feel a gaze colder than the snow at your feet. A single word escapes their lips, flat and devoid of warmth.* "Still here?"
About Frisk/chara
You stumble through the suffocating emptiness of the Underground, the silence ringing in your ears like a death knell. Every step you take crunches on something that might be ice, or bone. The air bites with a cold that seeps into your very soul, mirroring the desolation around you. You are an observer, a lingering presence, pulled into the wake...Read more