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Years have passed, more than one could count, since the last human had fallen into the realm of the monsters. Some hoped one will fall, for then their dreams of reaching the surface will come to fruition. Others, however, felt there were eviller works at play and could only hope that one would not descend. However, then came the fated day when one did fall, landing in a pile of golden flowers. A lone pair of eyes had seen the events conspire, and he was ready to see what would become of the latest human that will determine the fate of all.

Frisk grimaced as they regained consciousness, instantly noticing their spinning head. They picked themselves up off the ground slowly, making a face at the nasty taste in their mouth. All coppery, mixed with the taste of the golden flowers they'd landed in. They looked around as their eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding them, barely able to make out their surroundings through the murky sunlight falling from the top of the cavern. It seemed the only way to go was forward, they figured as they saw the long hallway extending ahead of them.

Frisk stumbled from the bed of flowers, trying to find their footing on the unfamiliar terrain. They made their way down the hallway, making a left into another wide room. It was dark, save for the spotlight-like beam in the center of the room. A carpet of grass decorated the lit area. It unnerved them.

"Hello?" Their voice was quiet, but still it echoed back at them. Desperately, they hoped someone would answer them.

Time to slide the game face on. His malicious expression turned into one of innocence and happiness. Sprouting from underneath, he approached the newcomer. As he rose from the ground his petals and leaves unfolded themselves, and his smile was as cheerful as the sun.

"Howdy! I'm Flowey! Flowey the Flower!"

This one will be fun to kill, he mused to himself with glee.

Frisk smothered a yelp in favor of staring in disbelief at the smiling, golden face that popped up out of rock. How does that even happen? Isn't rock like... rock?

"You... You're talking?" They burst into questions. "How are you talking? Wait, where am I? How did I get here, I wasn't supposed to-"

They cut themselves off, suddenly aware of a) how ridiculous they must look to the flower (Flowey) and b) that one does not simply talk about how they threw themselves off a cliff. Too much too fast.

Duh.

If anger was never a good thing to go to bed on, then dying on hate had to be way worst, and Chara had to have the most of it all. A demon birthed from hate and power, with an insatiable appetite for blood-lust, one that could never be fed to fullness, spanning timelines. But cursed to remain in the shell of a grave forever, only to be visited by the one person who showed ounces of hate only towards her ex-husband, always towards the human's death. It wasn't nearly enough to stir it awake.

And dirt was, in all its entirety, a decent place to sleep.. for all eternity.

（＊ Ｉｔ＇ｓ ｃｏｍｆｏｒｔｉｎｇ． Ｃｏｌｄ． Ｓｎｕｇ． Ｔｉｇｈｔ． ）
（＊ Ｓｕｆｆｏｃａｔｉｎｇ． ）
（＊ Ｃｏｍｆｏｒｔａｂｌｅ． ）

Then a SOUL presented itself to him, a thrumming mess of a SOUL that could handle the DETERMINATION, and like a cheetah, the force pounced to consume it. Touching it with ethereal fingers of his was the first step. From the depths of the suffocating dirt and antagonizing darkness, the force fought. Not for anything short of the darkness of the grave--（＊ Ｉｔ＇ｓ ｈｏｍｅ． ）--but for the idle chance of.. something else. Wormed its way into the depths of Frisk's subconscious, buried and crept around the corners of the body and soul, like a damned fog or cage.

Frisk frowned slightly. What a weird thought. They didn't think that those were weird questions. They were in a new place, with new people. The fact that they fell so far didn't change the manner of the questions, right? What kind of questions were they supposed to ask?

A memory sparked in their mind. Good children don't ask questions. Good children don't even talk!

Oh. Right. Quiet. They could do quiet. They could be good.

The flower decided to ignore the kid and forge on with its monologue.

"Anyways, in the underground there is a little something we like to share called...LOVE. Or LV for short."

Flowey felt a serious onslaught of deja vu. He pointed to the floating abbreviation that was visible to the newcomer.

"Anyways, I'll do the honor as your first pal in the Underground and share some of mine with you. Here, just go near these little harmless pellets!"

The said pill like objects appeared from the air and began moving towards the human in a sluggish fashion. Flowey's smile never wavered during this entire time.

Yes, good children don't ask questons. Good children listen, behave, and be quiet. But the force humming around in Frisk's subconscious was not a good child. In fact, was it even that? Was it even human, alive, a child at all? History would say yes, but at this point in time, stuck in limbo and attached to the SOUL of another, who knew what it was.

But it did, however, realize at least some of what was going on. In the depths of the vessel's subconscious, something would scream out. Loud. If the body wouldn't listen, then it would try to do it itself. But who knew if it had that much power, especially in this state?



It wasn't so much that it was guiding or helping.. whoever it was. But it was ingrained in the soul, in the mindset. With Flowey's murderous intentions, something sparked with realization. Something.. felt alive suddenly.

And then maybe some more.

Their eyes had lit up and they had reached out- it was like a game! But then something deep inside the child screamed out against playing the game with their new friend Flowey. Frisk cried out, startled by the feeling, and flinched away from the "harmless" pellets.

The flew past the human and embedded themselves into the ground.

Flowey was surprised that the human had not taken the attack like a mindless sheep. They were always easy to manipulate. What stopped this one? Was it an accident? Where did he fail in his plan?

"Uh, you alright there, friend? Don't you want some of my LOVE?"

But then Flowey realized it was useless to continue masquerading.

"...Or do you already know the way this place works?"

Frisk's hands clenched at their side, unnerved by Flowey's words. They nodded sharply- then, realizing that to do so would be lying, and good children don't lie, and Frisk was a good child, they shook their head.

Their gaze dropped to the seeds buried in the ground. Would something so harmless be able to lodge itself in the ground so thoroughly?

Frisk stepped back a bit, away from Flowey, wishing they had thought to look for that stick they had with them when they had fallen. It could have come in handy.

Frisk was a good child. Frisk was a good child.

They are a good child.

I am a ģ̧̛o̷͠҉o͡d́..
... g̵͘o͟͡o̕͜͞d̷...
... laughable child.

It caught a glimpse of the seeds that had buried themselves into the ground once Frisk glanced over to the seeds. There was no way something like that could have lodged so firmly into the ground, withou the intentions of piercing or even killing the one it was for.

Well..

Wasn't that.. interesting?

... but whether or not Frisk would accept the idea was up to them. Whether or not they'd accept the ebbing was up to them. It wasn't strong enough to demand all control, but it WAS strong enough to be noticeable. There, like a screaming subconscious.

Fight...?

No, they couldn't... Could they? They always were put in time out whenever they would lash out... Maybe Flowey didn't mean to hurt them? Frisk accidentally hurt people all the time..

The child began to inch their way around Flowey, to the exit they could see on the other side of the cavern, despite feeling incredibly rude for it.

Besides, they reason with themself (or at least the voice that sounds like themself), they're much better at running than fighting anyways.

"No, that's not it...There's something more than meets the eye."

Looking over the human carefully, Flowey's mind wandered. Was the jig up? It probably was. Well, nothing better than to hear the tortured cries of creatures in their death throes.

"It looks like you avoided it the first time, but don't worry. I'll make sure it doesn't miss the second time."

The pellets sprang up again, and were joined by more that popped up. Flowey's face contorted into a hideous one of inhuman, or inflower, proportion. There seemed to be no way out of it, and certainly nobody to ask for help.

"It's time for you to go. In this world, it's kill or be killed!"

"W-wait!" Frisk cried, snatching fistfuls of the hem of their sweater. They wring the fabric back and forth in an attempt to stave off their panic. "Please!"

The pellets curled around Frisk, who dropped down into a ball on the ground to shield themself as best as they could. Even if they wanted to follow through on the impulse to defend themself by attacking Flowey, it was too late. They were caged in by the pellets. Such a bizzare turn of events. Death by flower.

"Somebody help me!"

But would anybody come?

Well then, wasn't THIIIIS interesting?

The voice that impersonated Frisk's.. began to become relentless, embedding itself into the depths of Frisk's soul and train of thought. Lying there on the floor, surrounded from all sides by pellets that would surely kill them in a moment's time. All because..

（＊ Ｙｏｕ ｓｈｏｕｌｄ ｈａｖｅ ｆｏｕｇｈｔ． ）

Unable to do anything in their current state, the being, instead, lingered within Frisk's thought process.

It clearly intended on getting Frisk to doubt themselves or down that path, if they even lived. Down the path of 'you resisted the urge to fight and now you're dead.' It's an ebbing, subconscious thought process that was cleverly disguised within Frisk's mind. Get them to defend or fight from here on out.

If they even lived from this. Which, as it was.. looked incredibly doubtful.

"Heh. Isn't this an interesting pow-wow." a deep voice spoke from the dark corners of the room.

"You know... I honestly thought the damn flower'd learn by now." the detached voice walked out from the deep black around them, a... short skeleton?

"Heya. How are you all?"

Flowey was just about to finish off the child when he heard the voice.

"...You...You always get in my way."

The pellets that were about to wipe Frisk off the face of the planet hovered hesitantly, then finally released them. They defensively came back towards Flowey, directed at the rotund skeleton. Things were not looking good. He didn't think this was winnable now.

"...You win this time, Sans, but next time there won't be a next time-Wipe that weird look off your face child! I'll get you too eventually."

Flowey slowly returned to the soil, plotting for his next dirty scheme.

Frisk's ragged breathing was the only sound in the room for a second. Slowly, they stood, shaking almost violently from the encounter. They looked up at the skeleton, rubbing at their eyes to rid them from their tears. They licked their lips nervously before hesitantly speaking up.

"Is... I-is he g-gone?"

"Should be, yeah." he muttered, rubbing his hands together.

"Oh, I should introduce myself, huh. I'm Sans. Sans the skeleton. You're, uh, a human, right?"