I Left It Vague Bc Frisk Themselves Forgets Where They Are Half The Time So Whether This Is In The Ruins Or Post Pascifist Is Ur Call!!! - Tumblr Posts

Whenever they wake up like this, they feel like they're 6 years old again. ━ Factually, this is not correct, and cannot be correct. When they fell, they were something young, but never that young, never again. Their childhood was one of independence & the orange-gold crest of a mountain's shell & the routine of tending to chickens before wandering in the long rye, alone as a child, together here. When they were 6, they were taught how to feed animals and how to pick berries. When they were 6, they were taught the right way to hold an oil lamp. When they were 6, there was still glass jar waiting. And maybe it's still waiting. They can't remember. But now, 13 hangs on their teenage bones like a reminder of what world they're living in, and how many times they've lived it renders it null. Memory lost until they look in the mirror, and it's still to early to bother. Ouroborus in the long grass, snake in the bedframe, serpent in Eden.

But the serpent has just awoken, and while somewhat peckish, they could wait til dinner. Hunger unto hunger unto hunger until someone matters more than the process looping again ( and maybe from a different life, maybe from the one they're in, they can still smell the smokeless heat of fire, of protection )

Frisk rubs their eyes, hair disheveled, as one hand tries to comb it down. They end up distracted by a spot of acne on their jaw that they'll have til they're 15, no matter what they do about it, as they peek at Toriel from behind thick tangles. ━ for how many times they've heard it, will hear it, they'll never get tired of the voice that greets them when they have the privilege to hear it at all. That priviledge is granted then revoked then granted again, but still, that never stopped them calling.

" M'hm… " the hum of Frisks voice betray the sleep they try to wriggle off as they finally brush back their bangs to observe the chaos-that-was-yet-to-occur-but-most-certainly-coming, notably ducking to attempt in peering beside Toriel's legs into the oven like getting a sneak-peek of a surprise. Alas, without a bulb, the oven retains its secrets. Their dark eyes look up at Toriel as they right themselves, and while they always seem tired, they always seem brighter with her around " Migh'wanna grab a brush before I get th'burner covered in this- " they waggle the hand still with its fingers combed & caught in a bundle of their brown bangs, some strands giving out and falling back into their eyes " -but 'll help. like helpin'. " they nod as they say the last part, as though confirming it themselves to be true, which they already were, but it doesn't hurt!

as they saunter down the hall to snag a brush or comb you could've sworn they'd never seen before, they all but trot back to Toriel as they wrangle their locks into place, eyes brighter, sharper now as they glance around the kitchen " What're we makin' today? "

The heavenly smell of baked goods radiate from the kitchen. A warm glow that lures you in with the promise of homely comfort. It's there you'll find Toriel mid-prep. The pie crust has already been set aside and she's at the oven with a slight sway to her hips. The light hum of instrumental music coming from an unknown source. You're quiet, though it's not enough to keep her from noticing you.

"Oh. What timing. Did you sleep well?" Her voice is soothing, Motherly. The look of joy expressed in a kind smile. "If you're feeling rested I could use some help in the kitchen today." / @quillheel