I Appear Missing

by Orionsane

Summary:

A series of glimpses into the life of December Holiday, and beyond.

I - Drown

 

It was a real shame. She had been looking forward to this for so long now. The hours of practice, the immense discipline, it all had to come together perfectly. And low and behold, it was ended in but a moment, a mere twenty seconds into her routine. A loosened blade on her left skate sent her careening along the rink headfirst into the bottom of the glass divider. A great smack dulled her senses, numbed only by the cold of the ice against her limbs. She swore, under her breath, immense guilt instantly racking at her. She prayed her mom, somewhere off in the crowd, hadn’t been able to read her lips.

She recalled her training, steadied herself, and stood back on her own two hooves, brushing the flecks of ice from her dress while shaking her head. That would be a heavy deduction, sure, but she hadn’t lost yet. All she had to do now was perform perfectly. Easy. No pressure at all for a mere child. When her vision finally unclouded amidst the sea of blinding white, the first thing she noticed were the faces. Faces, not dancing among the crowd in a rhythmic series of expressions, cheers, jeers and boredom, but of stone. Of ice. Permanently carved into series of shock. Her lip twitched. The arena was dead silent. Had it really been that embarrassing? Was she really that much of an amateur? Now she just felt small. Another lost cause to throw on the pile.

It was a real shame. She had quite liked figure skating.

Warmth broke through the chill of her disaster. Like the rain on a summer day, it trickled down from her forehead onto her cheek. Reflexively she reached to swipe it away and rub it on her dress, but apparently this only served to shock the crowd further. Now they were judging her every action, not just her mistakes. She felt like crying but sucked it down with a hard swallow. She rubbed the residue of what she believed to be sweat between her fingers and without spending a second longer thinking, carried on. She slipped back into her routine, not even caring to notice the music that had been accompanying her moves had halted. She spun, she twirled, leaped and slid, slicing through the ice like her skates were on fire, ignited by that warmth spreading from her face and throughout her entire body. She would not let one little fumble ruin everything, no. With a resolute grit of her teeth she leapt once more and spun three times before landing on her left skate alone, leg wobbling with weakness but standing strong as she finished.

She pumped her fist. There was nothing in this puny world that could ever get December Holiday down.

But why were the faces still frozen solid, refusing to thaw? On all sides they stared motionless, the occasional twitch and mumble between the lips the only indication they were even alive to begin with. She dug her nails into her palms. Would she be the only girl subjected to such scrutiny? Why was the entire world her mother all of a sudden?

Then the veil of competition, of proving, lifted. Another viscous line dripped past her lip and she tasted it with a dart of the tongue: bitter, and metallic. And then she noticed the drops of red peppering the ice all around her, like little puddles of scarlet in a field of snow. They surrounded her, having flecked off with each leap, landing and coalescing as a monument to her pain, already solidifying atop the ice. She slowly brushed her hand against her forehead once more and pulled it away, the chestnut brown of her fur stained almost black. She didn’t understand. Had this come out of her head? Out of her? She gasped, and nearly slipped as she scattered away from the rink back into the locker room. Discarding her skates, she sprinted to the closest sink and ran the water as hot as it could go. She dipped her hands in while hyperventilating, still not comprehending what was happening, and splashed one scalding liquid into her face to drown out the other one that refused to stop flowing from her. A third flowed from her eyes, a fourth from her mouth, and now her face was nothing more than a sopping wet mess. Over and over she tried to wash it all away but it kept coming. Her head throbbed, her eyes stung, and her throat ached.

A murky copper crust clung to the sink as she merely wished to be able to drown in it all.

---

 

II - Pierce

 

You’re too young! Her father’s words rang in her head as she smirked, back comfortable against the pleather seat. The assistant pressed a cold mental point to the tip of her right ear and clicked a button. All in an instant, she jumped up from the seat, thanked the assistant, paid in cash, and sprinted out of the whole-in-the-wall establishment. Dess mouthed ow ow ow over and over to herself as she procured her handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her ear. She whistled in satisfaction at her quickness before pulling out a little mirror from a different pocket and giving herself a once-over with her new accessory. She had to admit - she looked rather dashing today. Her makeup was perfectly applied, splotches of black beneath her eyes making her look like the mysterious badass she prided herself on being. The only thing out of place was her hair, styled immaculately, obviously but showing signs of needing another dye. Ugly streaks of dirty blond eked through the thick curtains of black that practically blinded her. She scoffed, finally taking her attention away from the imperfections to admire her first piercing. It was a simple little thing, a dot of silver at the edge of her ear, but she loved it. It accentuated her aesthetic perfectly, and if anything else, it would piss her mom off even more. She giggled evilly, already mentally picking out future spots: definitely another on the opposite ear, then a few cartilage piercings perhaps, followed by a couple snakebites, and a naval for good measure…but way down the line. She wanted her mom to get angry, not kill her. That last one could wait until high school at the least.

She dabbed the tip of her ear free of red and stuck the cloth back in her pocket.

Dess sauntered home, feeling rather pleased with herself but still wanting to keep it on the down-low for now. She threw open the door with just enough force to avoid setting off the dancing Santa and promptly sank into the couch. Letting out a sigh, she debated raiding the fridge for any snacks before something intriguing caught her eye.

Right at the coffee table was Noelle, using safety scissors to cut up sheets of paper into various shapes. Dess leaned over to study her intently, watching her for a moment before speaking up.

“Whatcha doing, Elly?” Her sister turned to face her with the widest smile she had ever seen, freckles beneath her doe-eyes popping in the light. Seeing her so happy, it was impossible not to be sucked in and smile herself.

“It’s a surprise.” She quickly turned back to her cutting, but Dess was never one to let up.

“Tell me right now and I’ll go steal a cookie for you.” Her fingers halted.

“…with sprinkles?”

“Sprinkles and everything, the ones dad hides on top of the fridge.” Such devilish temptations were simply too much for a little girl.

“I’m making snowflakes…for you.” Dess’ nose twitched with a much more pleasant warmth.

“For me?” She stood up and knelt down before the coffee table to be head-level with Noelle. She brushed scraps of paper aside to see a rather neat assortment of pointy snowflakes. “You are just too kind, miss. What’s the occasion? Just the fact that I’m the coolest sister ever, right?” Noelle giggled as Dess ruffled her blonde locks, tiny hands fruitlessly pushing her arm away. “Always knew I was your favorite.”

“Stop it!” She barely squeaked out through her giggling fit and Dess finally relented. “We made some in class today, but I had to give Kris a hand. They are so bad at cutting the shapes.” Noelle cutely scratched at her own nose as Dess smirked. “So I’m just making my own now, for mom and dad too, but…you first.”

“Just for that, you get two cookies.” Noelle clapped as Dess moved from the living room to the kitchen. Standing on her tip-hooves, she reached up to snatch a box of cookies from atop the fridge and snapped open the lid to procure three of the overly-frosted and sprinkled variety. She was so engaged in her thievery, still riding the high of her rebellious activity and wholesome enjoyment with her sister that she nearly jumped straight through the roof upon finally noticing her mother leaning over a chair in the dining room. She made no sound and barely any movements, a shadow on the wall glaring at her. Just across from where she stood guard was her sheepish father, slumped down in his own chair. While picking up the box of spilled cookies, she put two and two together and snarled. Dess rushed over to the table before her mother could get the first word in.

“I should’ve known you’d sell me out.” She snapped at her dad, who flinched.

“December.” It was nearly impossible to ignore her mother when she spoke in that tone, with a voice like knives of ice piercing her skin at all angles. Yet she proceeded.

“Can only be the cool dad for so long, huh?”

“December.” Again. No changes in volume, or brevity, yet it stung even harder. She finally met her eyes, the endless blue a disgusting reflection of her own. She didn’t even need to say more, and Dess was scrambling for words. She knew she was merely digging the pit deeper but she didn’t care. Not even her mother could ruin this day.

“Let me guess—go to my room? Give you all my CD’s while I’m at it? Sit up there and starve in silence until you grant me amnesty, your majesty?”

“Dess,” her dad finally found the strength, or fear, rather, to pipe up, “just listen to your mother. It’ll be easier for all of us.” She met his eyes now, a shimmering brown. He was shaking slightly, and that made her heart sink. That only meant one thing: her mother was at the physical peak of anger. God, she did such a good job of hiding it, only letting it seethe through in her gazes and monotone, single-word threats. Yet Dess proceeded.

“Whatever, it’s too late anyways.” She sneered, jutting out her left ear. Suddenly her mom dashed forward and sailed across the room, snatching up Dess’ shoulder and glaring at her daughter’s new ornament.

“Carol, she’s right.” Rudy stood up now, desperate to extinguish this conflict at once. “I’m as guilty as her. I could have tried a little harder to, em…stop it, but I didn’t. Don’t take this all out on her.” Her mother continued staring daggers.

“What an ugly shade.” Dess’ eyes puffed. “It doesn’t match you in the slightest. Then again, nothing on you really does.” Dess smacked her hand away and it hovered in the air for five seconds before slowly sinking to her side. “You will take that out and let it close.”

“No I won’t.” She spat back.

“You will take it out.” How could she do it? How could she be so frightening with just mere words?

“You aren’t ruining this for me.” Dess was faltering now, joining her dad in fighting the tremors in her bones.

“You’ve already ruined so much, December. So I won’t ask again: don’t ruin any more of yourself.” Dess’ eyes watered, and her father scraped the legs of his chair against the floor.

“Carol!” But Dess was already turning away, fists balled and nails threatening to rake lines into her skin.

“…God damn you.” She growled, spitting on the ground before sprinting away, refusing to look back, refusing to stare into the eyes that weren’t her own but looked just like hers any longer. She slammed the kitchen door as her father attempted to defuse the situation to no avail, and Dess was halfway up the stairs when she heard an innocent call stop her in her tracks.

“Dess?” She rubbed the tears away so she could see clearly. Noelle was still standing at the coffee table, holding up a newly completed snowflake. “Look! I finished yours.” She couldn’t even bring herself to smile.

“That’s…that’s great, Elly.”

“Where’s my cookie?”

She could give no answer as she shut the door to her room and shoved her face in the pillow.

 

---

 

III - Ask

She half-expected a meteor to come falling from the sky to wipe them all out in an instant, the day was going that well. The sun shone through a thin blanket of clouds on this spring evening, sparkling across the surface of the lake. It was a kids’ day out, and Dess lounged on the beach while watching Kris chase Noelle in the fiercest game of tag that there ever was out of the corner of her eye before shoving another bite of sandwich into her mouth.

“May I interest you in a spot of mustard?” He said it with an exaggerated pretentious tone that made her eyes narrow as her head swung around to meet his. There he was, dressed so neatly in his Sunday best, standing in stark contrast to her own typical flannel and undershirt that rode up just enough to make her mother sneer in disapproval. The rounded specs resting calmly on the bridge of his snout indicated even more class, and if she hadn’t already known him so well, she would have written him off entirely as some sort of boarding school prep nerd. As she continued staring, he faltered in his ability to keep up the act and smirked. Seeing the corner of his mouth pop up made hers mirror it precisely.

“Yeah, if you want me to vomit this all over you, maybe.”

“In my defense, I didn’t pack this.” He placed the jar back into the basket and retrieved his own sandwich. “My dad likes putting it on everything and assumes those genes must have transferred down to me, or something.”

“Tell me about it.” She rolled her eyes.

“No need. You’re wearing a pair right now.” He said it entirely deadpan while tapping her knee with his shoe, indicating her black ripped jeans while taking a mouse-sized bite of his sandwich in the process. It took half a second for it to register, and Dess promptly kicked him back while snickering.

“That was awful. Worse than usual, somehow, which is saying something.”

“Still made you laugh.”

“It was a pity laugh.”

“You must have a lot of pity for me, then.” Their eyes met again in a faux-staring contest.

“Well, you’re a sad sack and a sorry case, Asriel, what can I say?” Now it was his turn to roll his delightful eyes in a perfect arc.

“You wound me, December. Jumping through so many hoops in utter refusal to admit that sometimes, I just might be a little funny.”

“Oh, you’re plenty funny, I’ll admit. Plenty funny to laugh at, that is.” They were both giggling now in a moment of shared bliss. Asriel held his gaze on her for just a moment more before looking out across the lake.

“Well, as long as you’re smiling, I can’t really complain.” Oh how grateful she was that Asriel had turned away, because as soon as the last word left his throat, her nose had become a maelstrom of twitching like she were about to sneeze over and over. Her lips quirked and she quickly searched the confines of her mind to return a line even half as smooth as his. After a solid thirty seconds, it finally came to her.

“These, uh, sandwiches are really good.” He turned back to her, beaming with pride.

“Thank you!” He said it so wholesomely and genuinely that her heart stopped doing somersaults and smoothed to a calm rhythm once more. “And the juice?” Dess sipped tentatively from a plastic bottle and let the infusion of sugar and orange quench her thirst amidst the summer heat.

“Swell.” She cleared her throat in a desperate attempt to regain her composure as he stared daggers at her waiting for her final judgment of his cooking.

“It is freshly squeezed from this morning. I hope I didn’t put too much sugar in. It’s hard to get the ratios right when you’re just eyeballing it.”

“Azzy.” She politely interrupted him and he blinked twice. “It’s perfect. Everything here is perfect. Don’t worry about it.” He nodded and left it at that. Now she felt a need to fill the air. It would be an absolute waste to be in his presence and not be talking with him at every conceivable opportunity. “I could help you, for next time.” He turned back to her with an eyebrow raised.

“With the cooking?”

“Why not? It could be fun.”

“I thought you hated it. In fact, I specifically remember you telling me not too long ago that it, quote, made you want to die. Change your mind?”

“Well, that’s when my family forces me to help. Big pain in the ass. You though? You seem like a good teacher.”

“What if I’m horribly impatient and rather strict in my methods?” She bumped her shoulder to his and let the contact remain as they both gazed out across the water now, soft sand pressing compactly beneath them. In that moment, with the soft lull of the waves before her, and the chirps of the birds in the trees above her, she forgot essentially everything, except her and him, the faintest of touches bridging them together like ancient landmasses. From the corner of her eye she glanced at him, and quickly shot away when she realized he was doing the exact same thing.

“Can I ask you something?” She mumbled.

“Shoot.” He responded even quieter. Dess took a deep breath and decided to just spit it out. She didn’t even know why she had been so nervous. It’s not like he would have gotten mad at her. Scared, maybe, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was entirely on her, the fear, and she chalked it up to the fact that being around Asriel had made her feel quite odd as of late, like causing her bones to vibrate, her fur to stand on edge, that sort of thing. So perhaps finally getting this out of the way would help placate that odd, scary, yet…not entirely unpleasant feeling. As she steadied herself and opened her mouth, however, a scream that could shatter glass from across town sounded behind her. Leaping up, Dess turned to see Noelle shaking above a motionless Kris, face down in the dirt. Asriel leapt up not a moment later and the pair made their way to Noelle, who was now kneeling down and whispering to Kris.

“What happened?” Dess reached her first and put both her hands on her sister’s shoulders. She sniffled and pointed with a single, shaking finger.

“They-they were running from me ‘cause I was it, and just had an awful fall. They tripped or something, I think. Are they-are they dead?” Noelle was quivering in Dess’ grasp, and before she could say anything, the believed to be deceased body of one Kris Dreemurr suddenly reanimated and lurched at Noelle, eliciting another horrified screech that nearly deafened December. They chased her with a zombified gait for a few moments before Noelle fled beneath the nearby picnic table, Kris still clawing at her through the holes in the metal. Both Dess and Asriel chuckled in amusement, with the latter shaking his head while placing his wrists on his hips.

“That has got to be the damn weirdest kid I have ever seen,” Dess mused, “and I mean that entirely complimentary.”

“They never change. Ever.” Asriel said with a sigh and look of awkward approval. The goody two-shoes would never admit he found joy in witnessing his younger sibling terrorize his best friend’s sister to her face, but she still noticed, and promptly elbowed his arm. He feigned an ow right as Noelle ran between the two of them, slapping Asriel in the exact same spot.

“You’re it!” She squealed before sprinting with renewed vigor. Asriel glanced at Dess in disbelief, but she was already backing away from him.

“You’re kidding.”

“She said it, not me.” She lifted her arms as Asriel accepted the challenge. Glaring at Dess, he cracked his knuckles, stretched his legs like a professional runner, and turned his wrath towards Noelle.

“You think you can get away from me? The two-time Hometown cross-country club champion?!” He delivered the line like a cartoon villain as he set off after Noelle, who was now giggling like a maniac between her excited screams. Dess grinned at the both of them, and was so distracted by just how good Azzy was with her sister that she nearly didn’t take notice of the lone Kris trudging past her with much less enthusiasm. She snapped out of her dreamy gaze just in time to grip their shoulder.

“Hang on there, buddy. Eyes up.” Reluctantly, they turned around, face still downtrodden and blanketed by a curtain of messy black bangs. Dess brushed them aside to reveal a pair of watery scarlet eyes. God. Such a peculiar set for such a peculiar child. It never failed to intrigue Dess. “What happened?” Kris sniffled, scratching at their right leg to make Dess aware of the damage. With a sigh, she knelt down to observe the fresh wound, a nasty scrape that left a splotch of blood in its wake. “You actually did trip? Consequences of your actions, right there.” Not a word or even a mere motion of response. Dess regretted her remark and reached into her back pocket to procure a faded blue handkerchief. “Come on, sit down.” She motioned to the empty picnic bench, and Kris trudged after her.

Carefully, Dess began wiping away the blood. She dabbed and prodded, eliciting a couple pained grunts from the kid which she promptly shushed. With each drop that soaked into the old cloth, more and more remnants of a certain memory awakened, entirely against her will. She shoved it back down, but as she continued to clean Kris’ wound it kept seeping right back through—ice. Drops of red. A sink permanently stained with failure and embarrassment. She met Kris’ eyes again, which had surprisingly been on her the entire time. Could they read her mind? A moment of kinship brokered between two unlikely souls? She would never know, because as soon as she was done and gave them the go ahead, they hopped right off the bench and sprinted back to terrorize Noelle once more like nothing had even happened. Dess scoffed, and studied the newly stained handkerchief, feeling the newfound warmth pool between her fingers. She did not know how long she sat there, not quite drowning in that old memory, but sinking deep into it while breathing still. She had given up anything ice and skate related for so long because of that, despite it being her favorite. Each moment spent after was in anticipation of another accident, another balloon ready to pop and expose her as…whatever she was. An entirely foreign beast, that was what. Neither monster nor-

“Boo.” It was so half-hearted it didn’t even make her flinch. Asriel slid right next to her on the bench as she quickly stowed the cloth back in her pocket. “Got Elly back, but only after I gave her a hefty head start.”

“Good.” Dess shifted towards him while folding her hands beneath her chin on the table. “You better have gone easy on her, or I’ll clobber you silly.” Asriel was smirking, but Dess’ expression of deathly seriousness wiped it clean away. In his moment of terror, Dess grinned and snatched the glasses straight off his face, revealing his comically beady eyes beneath. She slipped them on herself as he squinted. “How do I look? Studious? Serious? Ready to close deals? File lawsuits?” He leaned in close, deathly close, and Dess wrote it off on his nearsightedness and nothing more. Anything to stop her from flushing further.

“Like you are at the very top of Dorbe’s top one-hundred influential businesswomen list.” She smirked and promptly shoved the glasses back on his face. As she adjusted them to be more crooked on purpose, the question fell from her lips as casually as any other words exchanged between them.

“So like, are you going to the dance with me or what?” Her fingers froze as his eyes bulged. Neither of them knew how to proceed. Why did these things always have to be so awkward?”

“…yeeeaahh?” Asriel finally said in a rather exasperated tone. Dess scrunched her entire face as she coughed.

“Why’d you say it like that?”

“I-well-” he was finally as flustered as her, and it made things slightly easier at least, “-you just dropped that on me, is all!”

“I did, didn’t I? Sorry.”

“No, don’t say sorry.”

“Too bad, I said it.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Can I just start over?” He was vigorously nodding, and she swallowed. “Asriel Dreemurr, would you like to make my acquaintance at the Sadie Hawkman’s next week?” He merely blinked.

“Well why’d you say it like that?” Dess slapped her forehead as Asriel quickly chuckled and clutched at her shoulders. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding. Dess, look at me.” She refused to give up her glare, right up until he laced his right hand in hers and pressed his left on toe to sandwich it in a warm embrace of pillowy-soft fluff. “I would love to go to the Sadie Hawkman’s with you.” Her eyes shimmered, and a monumental weight dropped from her shoulders. She had been holding that one in all week and it had all gone in the briefest of moments. She exhaled through her nose and squeezed his hands back with her own. The two gave each other tender smiles before Dess tilted her head.

“Were you ever planning on asking me?” Suddenly Asriel’s face went pale, and Dess pressed further. “What? Too scared? ‘Ol Azzy too intimidated by this Holiday?”

“No, no,” he pushed his glasses up while still clutching her hand, neither of them really wanting to let go for a good long while, “I was. Today, actually, but…”

“…yes, but?” Dess prodded while he stumbled even further.

“Someone else asked me.” Dess nearly fainted.

“Who?” He was shaking his said. “Tell me right now or I’m throwing you into the lake.”

“Catty.” Asriel cringed as he shoved his face into his jacket. As the first syllable left his mouth Dess simply burst out laughing. And that laugh persisted for a long, long time. When her voice was hoarse and tears threatened to leak from her eyes, she cleared her throat and continued on.

“Still riding the high of the junior dance, I see. What-what did you say?”

“That I would think about it.”

“Oh perfect. Hey, hey, Azzy, I have an idea.”

“…oh no. I don’t like the sound of that.”

“What?” She giggled evilly. “Whatever could you be thinking?”

“I hate you so much sometimes…what is it?”

“We’re-sorry, you’re going to give her a response. Do you have something to write on?”

“…yes.” She rubbed her filthy mitts together. The two then spent the rest of the kids’ outing composing the most embarrassing response message possible, and despite Asriel’s initial reservations, he was more than eager to join in on the prank eventually. Dess giggled. That must have been where Kris got it from.

“Dearest Cattenheimer. I regret to inform you that my heart no longer beats for your affections. Your grotesque family cookouts are what finally broke the straw of the metaphorical camel’s back…” despite having zero intention of actually giving her the response, Asriel was the one who ended up writing the bulk of the world’s most civil rejection.

 

---

 

IV - Gift

 

She had taught Noelle well. With one last brush of her hair to the side, one last swipe of eyeliner on her fur, and one last touch up of blackened nail polish, December was adequately prepared for the dance. Noelle passed her the mirror to give herself the once-over, and she could barely concentrate on account of her little sister’s outrageously infectious smile.

“What do you think, Elly? Think they’ll drop dead at the mere sight of me?”

“I think you look…angelic.” She answered with a hint of dramatic flourish that made Dess blush. She turned her head up and pinched Noelle’s cheek between two of her fingers.

“All thanks to you, my little stylist. You won’t even need my help when it comes time for your Sadie Hawkman’s.”

“Will you still give it to me, though?” December stopped teasing her to instead gently place her hand on her shoulder as she sat up from her desk.

“‘Course I will, you know that.” The way Noelle’s front teeth jutted out even further when she became elated nearly sent Dess into hysterics. “Oh! Almost forgot.” She snapped her fingers while motioning to a variety of perfumes that had been previously laid out. Noelle promptly rummaged through the selection while Dess thought. “The volcanic ash and lavender.” Noelle nodded and promptly gave her sister a few cursory spritzes. She breathed in deep and shut her eyes in focus. When she opened them, she shot towards the far wall to the mirror beside her closet and straightened out her dance outfit for the umpteenth time: a black suit jacket atop a messily buttoned dress shirt, all given a splash of dark blue glitter that perfectly matched her antlers. Satisfied, she pulled gently on her jacket while doing a little twirl. “Perfect.” She twisted back towards Noelle while clapping her hands. “I should hire you full time.” She gave her typical cutesy smile in response, but a sudden air of nervousness had clouded Noelle. She hid her arms behind her back, and Dess knelt down to inquire about the shift. “Elly? Everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, um…I…” she swayed from side to side on her hooves, before quickly taking her arms out from behind her and presenting her clenched hands, “…I made something for you, for the dance.” Dess’ eyes widened as her sister opened her hands. With her mouth agape, Dess gripped a braided chain of bronze, adorned with an intricately crafted snowflake at the very end. Without wasting a moment, she threw her hair out of the way and snapped it around her neck, running right back over to the mirror with a gasp. “Do you like it?”

“Elly…” Dess was blinking now, her own reflection getting blurrier in the mirror. She felt behind her to grasp at Noelle, who she then scooped up in a warm embrace. “I fu-freaking love it! Did you make this all by yourself?” Noelle’s shakiness instantly subsided at her sisters flying approval, and all her bubbly attitude bursted back to the surface.

“Almost! I made the shapes, and dad did the metal bits. Remember when I made the snowflakes for everyone, the ones mom got bronzed? That’s where I got the idea, and I just thought you’d look so pretty wearing it.” Dess brushed the moisture from her eye before it could drip further and threaten her pristine makeup job.

“I am never taking this off. Ever.” She gave her sister a wet kiss on the forehead that made her giggle. “You are so special to me, you know that? The best little sister anyone could ever ask for.” The smile immediately melted off her face and her nose scrunched, her huge eyes becoming more pronounced, and Dess instantly regretted her words. “Oh don’t you start crying too.”

“I’m-I just…I love you Dess!” Too late. At the absurd realization that they were both a couple of crybabies, Dess snorted a laugh and stood up while holding Noelle’s hands.

“I love you too, Elly! I love you more than all the flakes of snow on the ground and all the stars in the sky.” She was just making it worse now, and now Noelle was borderline sobbing. This was getting ridiculous. “Okay, enough of this, let’s get going. I’m gonna be late for Azzy.”

“Right! Right.” Noelle cleared her throat and scampered through the doorway. The sisters sped down the stairs, where their father stood waiting. When he caught sight of Dess, he whistled and placed his hands on his hips.

“Now would you just look at her, Elly! Tell me you haven’t seen a more dazzling soul in your life!”

“Just the most dazzling.” Noelle nodded so hard in agreement she threatened to shake her antlers straight off. Dess rolled her eyes as she slapped her dad on the shoulder.

“Asriel won’t be prepared at all, you know. You might just kill him.”

“That is the plan.” Her dad smirked in approval, and the two promptly embraced.

“That’s my girl. Now go get ‘em.” She shot him a thumbs up, and without wasting a second more, she made for the door, hand on the knob and ready to finally get the night started.

“December. Just a moment.” The voice sounded from the hall leading to the kitchen. Of course she had just been hiding there the entire time, waiting to pounce from the shadows like usual. Dess reluctantly turned to see her mom, hands folded suspiciously politely. “Let me take a look at you.” Her mom was the one who moved forward, and Dess said not a word as she took an agonizingly long glance at her daughter. With a singular hum, she tilted her head, and turned right back around from whence she came. Dess grumbled, expecting as much. She was halfway out the door when she heard her speak once more. “Not terrible.” She froze in her tracks, not knowing what to think at all. An actual compliment, or at least her version, from her? What world was this? Dess stole one last glance backward to see her mom studying her nails. “Though you could do without those blemishes on your chin.” There it was. Of course. Nothing good could truly last forever. Dess shut the door, cursed under her breath that her snake bites looked immaculate, actually, and strutted towards her ultimate destination.

 

A rhythmic knocking summoned a pair of feet running to open to the door. On the other side was a human, hair blanketing their eyes as per usual. Dess narrowed her own and knelt down, whispering to them like they were covert agents.

“Young one, I am here to extract your brother. Care to give me the intel on his location?” After a few seconds of debate, Kris slowly nodded and Dess followed them inside. “Keeping up with practice, I hope?” They nodded while sprinting past the living room, yelling for Asriel the entire time. “Good! I can’t be the only one serenading our families!” She hummed to herself, glancing at the walls in anticipation of her date’s appearance, and just a moment later, she got her wish. From down the stairs he descended like royalty, stopping only once he locked eyes with her. Dess’ gaze trailed over him, the monster of the hour adorned in a dazzling suit of his own, a velvet-green atop a floral print undershirt, and pristine white fur groomed to perfection. He looked like a magazine model, and Dess could barely keep her suave, carefree nature intact as she huffed rapidly.

“December!” He gasped her full name while doing the exact same thing she had been doing to him, only he got flustered much more outwardly. “I-wow. You’re-I don’t even…” he even took off his glasses to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, and she bit her cheek to stop herself from laughing. “I have no words. Not one.”

“Really? Shame, ‘cause I have a few.” The two met in the center of the Dreemurr living room, their only audience members being the furniture, a laughably old cathode television set, and a little human doing a rather poor job at spying midway up the staircase. Before she finished her thought, she breathed in deep to catch a whiff of his cologne - a bouquet of fresh roses (she was so glad it wasn’t pizza scented.) It filled her with nothing but happy thoughts. Gently, she combed her fingers through his suit jacket while visibly checking him out. “You, Mr. Dreemurr, are a hot piece of work.” He choked on air as she drank in every drop of his exasperation. It was immensely satisfying, seeing him stumble, pace around the room, fumble with knobs on the TV, and finally settle back in her presence.

“Well, thank you very much, Miss Holiday. You yourself are akin to the pristine excellence of the morning dew laying gently atop the hydrangeas in a quiet field, beneath the endless blue sky.” Coming from anyone else, it would have been cringe inducing. Hell, maybe that’s what he had been intending. But hearing it from him, in that awfully romantic tone, accompanied by a little bow and grasp of her fingers, it nearly ruined her. She stretched out the neckline of her undershirt in a vain attempt at securing more oxygen.

“What is wrong with us?” They both giggled nervously at Dess’ question.

“I have no idea.” Asriel answered with a slight tilt in his head, still admiring her from head to hoof. “And I really don’t want to fix it.”

“Me neither.” She leaned into him closer, and decided to save the rest for the actual dance. “Now, shall we?”

“Yes, but before that-” he walked backwards into the kitchen, snatching up a flower pot that had been sitting just beneath the window, “-I have something for you.” God, she really was just getting showered in gifts tonight. Not that she was complaining. In his hands, Asriel held an orange clay pot that sprouted a singular flower with bright yellow petals, each shaped so perfectly she almost mistook it as a plastic replica and not a living plant. Dess grasped it gently while studying it further. “Your very own helianthus annuus. A wonderful table piece, and mighty fine conversationalist on lonely nights. Cultivated it myself, for a very special occasion.”

“Some might say, the most special.”

“I would agree.”

“You’re too sweet. It’s beautiful, Azzy. Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Dess, for asking me to the dance, much less even giving me the time of day.” She rolled her eyes while clutching her flower close.

“Oh stop being so dramatic. I’m really not all that.”

“That is n-”

“Kidding! Glad you understand what you got.” She winked at him and he almost fainted.

“…a name.”

“Excuse me?”

“You have to give it a name, you know.” He pointed at the flower and she scoffed. “It’s Dreemurr tradition.”

“Fine. Asriel II, perhaps? Wait, no. The God of Hyper Death, that has a nice ring to it.” Asriel gasped and Dess chuckled deviously.

“That is a low blow, December! I’m not twelve anymore!”

“I know, I know. I’ll think of a real name later. For now, I just want to take you away, if you don’t mind.” She offered him her arm, and after a second of nervous hesitation, Asriel linked it with his own. As they exited his house, Dess leaned in close once more. “I also have a gift for you, but it’s for after the dance. Not quite as cool as this, but…I don’t know, just a little something.” Asriel beamed and nudged her shoulder.

“I can’t wait.” And neither could she.

 

She never in a million years would have expected it to be so lame.

Dess guessed that must have been the curse of the small town: a tiny gymnasium, where everyone knows each other a little too much, a little too well, and can’t really sink into the crowd. That was one of the reasons why the pair had lasted a mere hour inside the school before ditching their classmates to run off into the night. Another reason? Maybe Dess just wanted to keep her date all to herself without any prying eyes.

“Can we not just go through the front door if no one is home?” Asriel glanced around nervously, hands in his pockets as Dess fiddled with her window, trying to pry it upward with a good grip.

“Mom’s the only one with the key, but I keep contingencies.” With a huff she slid it open and vaulted inside. With an offered hand, she helped Asriel up, and now it was just the two of them inside her room. “Well, would you look at this; mom working late, our dads out for a night on the town, and our siblings having a sleepover at your place. Who could have foreseen such fortunate circumstances?” She laced her fingers together with devious smile, and Asriel narrowed his eyes at her.

“You say that like you planned it all, somehow.”

“I know. And I so didn’t.” She flicked a switch behind her bed, casting the room in a faint blue glow courtesy of the neon stars hanging on the wall. “Call it fate, I guess. Now, how about your gift?” She knelt down to pat the space just in front of her bed, and curiously, Asriel took a seat criss-crossed while leaning against the frame. At the same time, Dess discarded both her jacket and dress shirt, letting the freezing air of their house hit her in her tank top. Against her closet lay her guitar, an orange mahogany frame embellished with painted gold pieces. It was her first and oldest foray into any musical experimentation, and her closest friend. She clutched it close to her heart and halted. Slowly she gripped the tuning switches, swallowing a couple times as to not let the nerves get to her. She stole another glance at her date, who had politely taken off his own jacket and folded it atop her desk chair. He smiled at her now, so the pressure was truly on. “Like I said, it’s…lame. Nothing special.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She rolled her eyes and parked herself next to him against her bed. “Hang on…did you-” she shushed him, his lethargic thoughts finally putting the pieces together as she strummed a few test chords to ensure her instrument was properly tuned. Afterword there was no more use in hesitating. Do or die, she thought to herself as she began strumming a steady rhythm. From soul, to heart, to vein, to muscle, to string, she poured out everything she knew.

 

What does a muddled young soul think that she wants?

Freedom from all, an escape from her haunts?

A hole in the ground, body buried into?

She never quite knew, until she met you.

 

A prince, a knight, all the titles between

A captain, a king, above everything

The words, they can try, and fail all the same

To encapsulate you, it’s a losing game

 

On a hill, through the trees, in a house, right here

Every second with you, a blessing, my dear

Your eyes a night sky, your voice a dulcet tone

I breathe all you in, I’m no longer alone

 

So what’s even the point of singing this song?

I guess she’s too scared to kiss you, do you wrong

But maybe one day, she’ll break the bars apart

And hold you inside, deep inside her heart

 

Dess’ fingers meandered against the strings as the last dregs of sound reverberated through the room. During the song, she had alternated between glancing at her guitar and him, but now her eyes were fully on Asriel. His had never left her, not even for a fraction of a second, and they were boundless, shining, a perfect reflection of hers, the black returning the blue. When she put her guitar down, it was so quiet she could hear her own heart beating.

“So…did you like it?” Even as the words left her mouth, he refused to break from his trance, and she didn’t even mind. She loved the way he was looking at her, in that moment, and wished desperately for it to never end.

“December.” When he finally spoke, her name fell from his lips like a flower petal against grass. “How are you even real?” The bridge of her nose lit on fire.

“I’m only real when I really care.” One more nervous smile to throw his way onto the pile. Then he took her hands in his, and any other witty remark that she may have had ready was drowned with the blood rushing through her every vein.

“You didn’t need to give me a gift, December, because everything you do is already a gift. Every time I even lay eyes on you, it’s the greatest, most precious gift that I could ever ask for. And…and I just know, that I’m gonna remember that song for the rest of my life, and after. I was practically only ever thinking about you before this, but now…I don’t even want to picture anything that isn’t you.” He reached past her face to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, twisting it gently around his finger in the process. Her eyes fluttered, and she ran her own hand up his arm before curling it behind his head. “Are you still scared?”

“Not anymore.” She whispered, eyes hazy as she leaned in. “You?”

“A little.” They both smiled into the kiss. 

For Dess, it was like putting her lips on a pillow. She could barely even feel him, it was that soft. In response, she smushed her face harder against Asriel, which positively startled him. Upon hearing his sharp inhalation, she pulled away and stared wide-eyed at him.

“All good?” Blinking the dizziness away, Asriel nodded, eliciting a snort from Dess.

“Yeah, yeah, just…you’re so good at that.”

“Really? That’s surprising, considering it’s my first.” Her face scrunched up as Asriel tilted his head in shock.

“You’re kidding.” She was already shaking her head. “Seriously? I was…oh man. So glad I didn’t screw it up.”

“What? Not like there’s a lot of options in this town.”

“Fantastic point.”

“And of course you didn’t screw it up. You couldn’t have.” Asriel rolled his eyes.

“Heh, not really. I could have freaked out and bitten you, or something.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She gave him her best smug look, and his brain short circuited. “Now, are you gonna kiss me again, or just leave me hanging?”

For Asriel, it was the easiest choice of his life. 

 

---

 

V - Connect

 

Like a vampire in sunlight, she hissed when the curtains flew open.

It was without warning, a physical and mental attack on her specimen. Someone was trying to kill her, surely, and was this close to succeeding.

“Get dressed. You’re coming to work with me today.” Her voice did a much better job of waking her up than the sun could ever hope. When Dess pulled the blanket off her face, her mother had already disappeared down the hall. Dess glanced at a clock that said 6:30 and groaned. Oh how she wished it had been literally anyone else. How willing would she be to chance it today? Show another aspect of that rebellious side of hers? Before she could come to a conclusion, heels clacking against wooden flooring signaled an abrupt return. “And please, wear something nice. The town hall has standards.” She listened to her hoof steps all the way down the stairs.

It was so, so simple, right up until she used that p-word.

 

“Why are we all the way out here?”

“Patience, December. It will all make sense in time.” Odd. Her mother wasn’t usually one to be cryptic. She was as blunt as those mall katanas she collected for no particular reason.

Out on a solitary path blanketed by the trees of the forest, accompanied only by her mother at the first spark of dawn, Dess was tempted to pinch herself to test if she was dreaming. After a walk that lasted no more than a few minutes, the two came across their first destination of Dess’ daughter-and-mother work shadow day: the old hometown shelter. As they approached the grassy bump in the earth, center barred by steel doors snaking with green vines, Dess recalled all the old ghost stories her classmates told about this place and smirked. She especially loved the old wives’ tale about the lost children lured into the woods just beyond where the shelter stood, not because it particularly interested or scared her, but because it absolutely terrified Noelle. How glad she was that Kris shared her pension for horror, and could always count on them to embellish her campfire stories with their theatrics, usually involving pretending to rip their own heart out or give their creepiest, toothiest smile.

“You are wondering why I took you with me today, aren’t you?” Not really, she was half-tempted to lie, and decided on saying nothing at all. “The truth is, December, that one of these days, not for a good long while, I hope, but a day nonetheless, I will no longer be mayor of this town. When that day arrives, I will have been expected to prepare any potential successors,” hands clenching in her pockets, Dess was forming a wild guess as to how this conversation would continue and was not liking it in the slightest, “and for all the responsibilities, the guarantee of our people’s safety and livelihoods, there is no one I trust more to take up the mantle than you.” There it was. Of course. Always the worst outcome, it had to be. And it always stung even more when it made zero sense. Dess scoffed, kicking at the steel and stinging her entire leg with shock.

“You’re kidding me, right? You can’t just appoint me mayor. Don’t we vote?” 

“It isn’t too difficult to sway a town of a few dozen, dear.”

“And you don’t trust me. You hate me.”

“That could not be further from the truth.” Her hand sank into her daughter’s shoulder like an eagle’s talons coated in ice. “You are my eldest daughter and the most brilliant woman I know. Despite your…array of setbacks, I can still say I’m proud of you.” She shook her off and finally met her eyes with a darkened glare. Twin sets of blue dueled in the morning light reflected by steel.

“You really think you’re funny, don’t you? After all this time, after all of the instruments and the performances and the tests and-and god-knows what else, this is when you finally say something like that to me? In front of this stupid place?”

“Believe me or not, December, I will not waste my time arguing with you.” There she was. Good ‘ol Carol Holiday, always unchanging. “This is the beginning of the most important years of your life, and it all starts with this.” Reaching past Dess’ head, covered with a gray beanie cut with antler holes to mask her bed-head, her mother slid a metal panel down to reveal an intricate series of keys on a keypad, some showing numbers, others showing abstract symbols. She recognized one of them from church, and another from…somewhere else. It evoked Asriel’s dad, his job, and made her grimace. “This place has been here a long time, dating back to before the construction of Hometown itself,” she continued as she punched in a combination, “and it will stand long after even you are gone, if, you pay attention to everything I teach you.” With one last click, Dess heard an electronic whirl, and one of the steel doors to the shelter popped open just a crack. She could barely contain her gasp. After all of this time, the mystery, the rumors, they were all a mere few inches away from her. Unconsciously her hand drifted to the door, to throw it the rest of the way open, finally expose whatever lay inside to the morning light.

Her mother’s hand got there first, and gently snapped the door shut as if it had never opened to begin with.

“I hope you were paying attention to the combination. That will be your first test, once we come back here.” Without another word, her mother turned on her heel and started right back up the path they had come. Dess blinked a couple times before snapping out of it and sprinting after her.

“Wait! Why can’t we just go in now? What was the point of walking all the way out here?”

“Patience.” She was really getting sick of that word. “You aren’t quite ready for what is in there.”

 

Unfortunately the rest of the day was nowhere near as intriguing as their journey to the shelter. Dess shadowed her mother as she completed her daily mayoral duties, including filing a mountain of boring paperwork, a meeting with the public works department regarding the construction of a new apartment complex, another meeting with the school board about the compiled standardized test results for the year, and finally, a slew of one on one meetings with various citizens voicing a variety of complaints and discussions, as was their right (Mrs. Boom’s complaints about “real literature” disappearing in the library in favor of “comic books about girls with unnaturally colored hair” was the only one that really stuck out.) The entire time Dess had been on the verge of falling asleep, covertly texting Asriel at multiple points and begging him to save her somehow. The goody two-shoes merely told her to stick it out and they could go out to the diner later for hot chocolate. Oh, if only Dess didn’t like him so much.

“…and the municipality conduct reports are kept here, the deadline of approval falling on the Monday morning of each week. Have you gotten all of this?” She shoved her phone in her pocket and nodded.

“State statute 62.09!” She proclaimed triumphantly, a single finger in the air. Her mother narrowed her eyes at her, sighed, and neatly compiled a stack of papers before binding it with a paperclip.

“I know. It’s boring, correct? A waste of your time, you’d rather be doing anything else? I know you won’t change overnight, December, but you could at least pretend to have a passing interest.”

“Mom,” she spoke in a frank tone for the first time all day, “does any of this really matter if I’m not even going to be the mayor?” Her mother folded her hands.

“Whatever do you mean?” Dess was a bit blindsided. Was she purposely being obtuse? No, her mother was smarter than that. There was always some game, some deeper intention that she just couldn’t quite grasp, and it made her teeth grind.

“We’ve talked about it…you, me, and dad. I’m going to college, away from this little town. This is quite literally the worst time to try and beat this all into me.”

“We have talked about it, yes, but I don’t ever recall a final decision being reached.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s still my choice…right?”

“Correct.” Even though she didn’t hesitate, Dess could practically taste how much she was seething with just the one word vibrating her bones. “But I predict that once you know more, everything, rather, the choice will be quite simple for you. There is no future in which you refuse, December, I am positive.” Dess sat up from the chair across from her mother’s desk and slammed her hands down on the wood.

“You don’t get to say that, mom. I get to do whatever the hell I want, like I always have, and once I’m out of high school you won’t be able to stop me. I’m ditching this town the first chance I get.”

“To go and run off with Asgore’s son? Hm…” Dess’ eye twitched as her mother continued checking off little boxes on her forms like this was any other day, “...at least he’s a decent kid. Heavenly choir voice. I’ll miss him during the service.” Even if it was fully complimentary, having her perceive him in any way made her blood boil.

“I don’t need your approval.” She snapped. “And I would have gone even if I never met him! This is all me, mom. Not you, not Asriel, just me. Now, are we done here?”

“For today, yes.” Dess grabbed her jacket off the rack and stormed out of her mother’s office, straight into the lobby and out the door. She spat in the grass as she departed, and wanted nothing more than to forget everything that had been forced into her mind that day.

Everything except, of course, the combination to the shelter.

 

---

VI - Enlighten

 

“What’s the occasion?”

“Does there need to be an occasion?” Dess mumbled as her thumb sparked the lighter.

“I guess not, but, I don’t know. You have that look in your eye.” Asriel watched her intently as she placed the joint between her lips and held the flame to the paper until it caught alight. In moments her throat was a desert and her mind was suddenly a lot calmer, yet still swimming with an abundance of thoughts nonetheless. She blew a perfect ring of smoke out of the window while hanging over the sill, watching it dissipate into the night sky.

“You like looking into my eyes enough to notice or something?” She smirked, taking another puff in between breaths. The calming haze was already setting over her, spurred along quicker by the comforting presence of her favorite Dreemurr. He joined her at the windowsill, resting his back against the wall as he faced her.

“Yes. But Dess, seriously, what’s up?” Unexpectedly, he reached out with his right hand in a gimme gesture, and she scoffed.

“Seriously? You sure, buddy?”

“It’s communal, or at least it’s supposed to be.”

“You’re right, but I just know how you get.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb. You get all weepy, and sad, and contemplative. It’s kind of scary.” He didn’t let up, so with a shrug, she passed the joint to him and he copied her motions exactly, only his ended with just the tiniest, cutest cough. “Better brush your teeth before you go home. Your mom’ll kill ya.”

“She would…” Asriel stared off into the distance, her supply affecting him in an absurdly short amount of time, “…her perfect little baby boy. I’m so going to hell.”

“Going to where?”

“But with whose toothbrush?” He passed it back to her, and she held it a moment before taking another drag.

“Mine, obviously.” She smugly grinned while inhaling her deepest puff yet, eyes locked to his the entire time. His face had already gotten so red. He looked like cherry tomatoes splattered against a blank canvas.

“That’s so gross.” Before he could say anything else, Dess gripped his shoulders and held him steady while leaning in close. Asriel blinked rapidly. The fact he still became this flustered after all this time together confirmed to Dess that he indeed was the perfect specimen.

“We’re gross individuals.” His mouth had already been open, either in anticipation of what she would do next or to mumble some more enticing nonsense, which made it easier for her to wrap her lips around his. It was less of a kiss and more of an exchange of air as she blew the smoke from her mouth into his. As she released, Asriel clutched her arm in exasperation and coughed twice before smoothly blowing the smoke out through his nose. That elicited a giggle from the both of them, and they continued partaking together in silence for a few minutes before the thoughts in Dess’ head continued to stir. While the joint was passed to Asriel, she decided to finally voice some of them. “My mom wants me to stay in Hometown after I graduate.” Asriel flinched but said nothing, and Dess took that as a sign to continue. “She’s been taking me to her work every day this past week, showing me all the boring odds and ends of being mayor.” She carefully neglected to mention anything to do with the shelter. Bringing that up while Asriel was under the influence would probably only serve to melt his brain entirely. “She thinks she’s like my mentor, or something. It’s so weird, and I just don’t…get it. Why now? After all of this time? Why is she acting like she cares? She said she trusted me more than anyone, Azzy, and I didn’t even know what to say back…god, me and my mom. Some days she’s asking me about my sports, driving me to practice, sitting in at my games, and other days she just gone. Not a text. Not a peep. I don’t get her. I never have. Either she doesn’t love me at all and is trying to hide it, or she loves me so much to the point it twists her perception of me. She wants me to be one thing, be her perfect daughter, while I want the exact opposite. I just want her to let me do my thing, ya know? Is that so hard? Let me get my damn piercings, let me dye my stupid hair, and don’t force me to learn about penal law for three hours of my day!” She snatched the joint back without looking and sucked down another quick inhalation. Her eyes burned and she loved it. “And my dad…he’s a nice guy. Love him, but…he’s too scared of her. Too scared to stand up for me. I know he just wants to protect Elly, make it seem like our family isn’t the mess it is. But she’s gonna get a harsh dose of reality one of these days, and you might as well prepare her for that rather than drop it on her all at once. She’s as scared as a kitten, my Elly. You know she once saw a spider in her room and refused to sleep in her bed for three days? I had to scoot over for her in mine, and I didn’t mind it one bit, but…” she wasn’t even noticing the last remnants of the joint burning between her fingers, “…I have to get out of here. Not just for me, but for her. I’m gonna get out of here, go to college, and be so successful I can take Elly anywhere she wants, without mom’s help or money. We won’t need it. All me. All December.” She grinned deviously, the plan devoid of any details sounding mighty enticing to her. “And you’ll help too, obviously, as my muse. Don’t think we’re quitting the band or anything. No, we’re gonna go viral. Maybe we’ll make enough to drop out of college, eh? Make a couple records, finally add some length to Hometown’s wiki page. Doesn’t that sound badass, Azzy..? Azzy?”

She finally tore her gaze away from the window to see him silently weeping into his sleeve.

Dess rolled her eyes all the way back into her skull and tugged at the fur of her face. When he noticed that she noticed, Asriel sniffled, eyes so red from both the high and his tears that it looked as if any moment lasers would emit from his pupils and fry her hair clean off.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just-” she was already passing him a tissue to blow his nose, which he gladly took, “-I’m just thinking about you staying behind while I go.”

“That won’t happen, Azzy. Come here, come on.” She sat criss-cross and patted her thigh. Asriel calmly accepted the invitation and rested his head in her lap. Dess sighed and gently brushed the fur above his ears, just the way he liked. Slowly the motions worked their magic, and his crying slowly started to let up.

“We’ve been together so long, it’d be like losing a part of myself, you know?” Dess felt another sudden burst of warmth, not in her throat this time, but her chest. Even amidst his words slobbered in snot and tears, he found a way to be so soulful. “And it’s not just that. Even if you come with me, what about Kris? I can’t just leave them here all alone. Who’s gonna go to the diner with them? Drink all that hot chocolate? Make snow angels?” God, he was so sweet it made Dess sick. She scratched behind his other ear with her free hand and leaned down to smack a big wet kiss on top of his head.

“Elly will keep an eye on them, trust me. And it’s not like we can’t visit, you big idiot. A few months at a time, at most. Come on, you can survive that, can’t you?”

“I…I guess. But what about Noelle, Dess? Aren’t you worried about her too?”

“Of course I am. But she’s not gonna be a little kid forever. Her and Kris, they’re almost teenagers now. Remember how we were at that age? Utterly unstoppable. Entirely incapable of doing stupid things. The happiest days of our lives. They’ll forget we’re even gone.” Asriel turned to face her with a surprising massive smile. She nearly returned it, before the tears started streaming even harder.

“Oh December. You’re so blindingly bright.” Her nose was betraying her, twitch by twitch. “How do you do it? Teach me your ways.”

“Heh. It’s simple, Azz. If you’re me, you gotta be positive, plain and simple. Think about all the good things in your life: Kris, your parents, how smart you are, how talented you are, the fact that everyone in this town loves you and wishes you were their son instead.” That made him giggle sweetly, and Dess self-congratulated in her mind. “How you’re both so handsome, and so beautiful, and so unbelievably kind and caring.”

“Oh stop it.” He rubbed both eyes with his hands in a circular motion. “I’m not all that. I’m just some…guy, who remembers to say thank you sometimes.”

“Mm…at least you didn’t deny the handsome bit.” She felt a rumble emit from his throat, what she believed to be a laugh at first, but at its prolonging, instead realized it was a low purring.

“I would have, but…hearing you say it makes my body hurt, so I accept it.” Dess snorted and nearly squeezed his head off with cuteness aggression. “In a good way.” He quickly added.

“I know, I know. Oh, I’m so lucky to have you.” She leaned down to kiss his cheek this time. “So lucky to have you all to myself.” He was happier now, yes, but his eyes were still a bit distant.

“I wish you had been my first.” He said it so wistfully, and so dramatically that Dess could do nothing else but laugh.

“First what?”

“…my first kiss.” His words trailed off in embarrassment, and Dess pinched his cheek between her two fingers.

“Ohhhh my god. Asriel, you were like, twelve, and it was for truth or dare.”

“But I should have known better!”

“If you beat yourself up over this anymore, I’m throwing you out of my window.” He promptly shut his mouth, and with one more smirk, Dess decided to tease him just a bit more. “But Catty though. Yikes.”

“See? See?!” He cringed, covering his face with his arms. “I can’t take it back! I’m permanently stained, Dess!” She howled with laughter and shook him violently.

“Little you didn’t have the best taste, did he?” He was shaking his head hard from side to side. “Ah, but it’s fine, ya know why? ‘Cause I got to fix you.” He froze in her grasp. “So no more complaining…wait.”

“…what?” Asriel leaned up off her lap as Dess took hold of a particularly nasty intrusive thought. “Oh no. What are you thinking? Do I even want to know?” She leaned in closer than ever before, tilting her head slightly as she slid her hand up his back and pressed his forehead to hers.

“There is one first I can give you.” With two veiny, reddy orbs, he stared at her so intensely it was the laser beams all over again. “But I need to know if you have what it takes. Do you, Asriel?” Slowly, he nodded, and her evil plan was fully underway.

 

“Last chance to back out.”

“N-no. I can do this.”

“You’re shaking.”

“It looks worse than it is.”

“You’re sweating.”

“It’s too hot in here. I should have taken off my ja-” the click of the gun silenced his words and Asriel seized up. His mouth contorted as he silently screamed in pain for a solid minute. His arms thrashed, nails scratching the leather straight out of the chair in the clinic. “F-F-”

“It’s okay. You can say it.”

“FUCK!” Asriel instantly covered his mouth in shame and that seemed to distract him from the pain. Dess clicked her tongue as he profusely apologized, her hand falling to her back pocket to procure her tattered handkerchief.

“Definitely gotta go to confession for that one.” She brought it up to his ear and…oh. That’s right. Dess blinked before awkwardly stuffing the cloth back on her pocket before he opened his scrunched eyes and noticed. “All good there? You survive?”

“Just barely!” Dess passed him the mirror as he finally recovered so he could admire his new accessory - a circular silver earring that perfectly matched the first one Dess ever had. “My mom really is going to kill me now.”

“At least you went out being a badass. Now you just gotta get a few more and you’ll start approaching my level.”

“I’ll, uh, think about it...” Dess giggled and helped him out of the chair. “…it does look pretty cool, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck yeah, it does.”

 

---

 

VII - Decide

 

Her fingers glided across the keys, careful not to overlap their’s in the process. Kris had gotten so good so fast it was unbelievable. Rapidly approaching the crescendo, Dess removed her hands entirely and gave Kris the full spotlight. With sparkling eyes she studied them, their head hung low above the keys in utmost concentration. Their muscles strained, fingers nearly spazzing with each movement and adjustment, yet the art could not have been finer. With a few last dramatic taps with all fingers, Kris gasped as the room fell into silence. Dess instantly filled it with a barrage of claps and shoulder shakes.

“Look at you! Hello?! Excuse me, I do believe you are in the wrong century! Go back to your own time, conducting orchestras and performing for monarchs!” Kris grinned gleefully beneath the embarrassment. “You’re almost as good as me.” That was a lie. They were already better, but Dess wasn’t going to inflate a twelve year-old’s ego any further. That would be hell on their development. “You might just single-handedly bring back classical music with playing that good. Now come on, I think this calls for a little treat or two.” She winked at them, and Kris leapt up from the piano with a gasp, sprinting across the dining room and into the kitchen.

They were already procuring glasses from the cupboard with a couple hops to account for the height as Dess retrieved the chocolate syrup from the pantry and milk from the fridge. “You somehow make this better than I do despite it being only one step, so here.” She passed them both containers and Kris set out to work, pouring two glasses of milk before uncapping the syrup and squeezing an abhorrent amount into each. After a tentative stir with a pair of spoons, the two clinked their glasses together and indulged. Like usual, Kris downed their entire glass in one gulp like a professional drinker, and Dess scoffed while savoring hers just a bit longer. “Don’t get yourself sick…oh, I sounded like my mom just there. Yuck.” Kris giggled while Dess watched them drink another full glass. “How are your folks doing?” They shrugged with a tilt of the head - decent? “Same as usual, I take it. The Dreemurr’s: the most normal family in Hometown.” She dramatically waved her arm across the whole kitchen. “Man, I wish I had that.” Kris stopped slurping the dregs of their second helping to raise their eyebrow at Dess. Wonderful. Now she had to elaborate appropriately for the young child. “I just mean, it seems you all get along fine. My mom…isn’t as cool as Toriel. Her pies aren’t nearly as good.” Kris nodded in agreement and Dess smirked. “See, you get it. Atta-kid.” She ruffled their hair as she dove back beneath her thoughts. There she was, grumbling over her mom yet again. At this point she had grown tired of it, yet had done little to stop it. This year could not go by quicker. The sooner she could leave it all behind and start anew, the better. But she was impatient, horribly impatient, and in the presence of another fellow troublemaker, she was enabled. With a sickening smile, she knelt down to meet Kris at eye level.

“Say, my little demon, how would you like to accompany me for some troublemaking?” It took zero convincing to get Kris on board for anything she did, and they were already rubbing their hands together like a devious fly. “That’s the spirit. It won’t be anything too crazy, just a little stunt to annoy my mom, let her finally know I want nothing to do with her and her ‘grand plans’ for my future.” Red eyes met blue, and Dess was formulating the beginnings of her own plan as she spoke intently. “How about tonight? I’ll come by your place, sneak you out for some covert ops. Partners in crime?” She gave them her fist to bump, and through a contract of fur to skin, the deal was sealed.

 

 

 

---

 

??? - The Devil Put Monsters Here

 

I need you to try for me. Please. Just try. 

You don’t even shake your head. Motionless you remain, atop the kept sheets of your bed. You haven’t known the warmth of being beneath the covers in months. You haven’t known the cold of your fingertips tapping against the keys for even longer. 

You have almost forgotten the sound of your own voice entirely.

 

You’re going off to a new one today. This one is different apparently. He takes a different approach to his healing, working not with words, but with shapes, conjured images. He wants you to show him what is wrong with you rather than speak it. It sounds like utter hell.

You step into the reception area still clutching your father’s sleeve. He speaks to the woman behind the counter and their conversation is nothing more than a low buzzing to your ears. Your eyes sting beneath the harsh fluorescent lighting and you shift your hair to cover what little you had been able to see. An agonizing five minutes later and your father is leading you somewhere again. You step into a much quieter, much darker room, and suddenly it’s easier to breathe. You don’t even mind the fact your father is now bidding you farewell, clutching you in a tight embrace before stepping out of the room and leaving you entirely alone with the new man. You glance at him, just once, and that is all you ever need.

He bids you to take a seat in front of him. His office holds no desk for him to study you like a lab experiment from behind, no stacks of medical textbooks to indicate his intelligence or qualifications, and no fancy name tag to even enlighten you to his name. There are merely four walls, two chairs, a sink, and an easel with a blank canvas laying atop its metal frame. The easel itself holds a variety of art supplies such as paints, graphite pencils, erasers, and markers. Usually by now you would have run out of the room in silence, but this odd situation has been the first thing to take it all out of your mind ever since it happened. Slowly, you park yourself in the seat and hide your body behind the canvas, still as shy as ever. He then speaks, and his voice is…familiar, in a way. Obviously you have never heard it before today, yet it sounds distinctly like the voice that calls your name when your mind is drifting off, the one you swear is real until you look around and realize you are still alone, the one your mom tells you is a good thing, a sign of a healthy and active brain. He bids you to take up any tool you wish, and to simply “begin.” No further instructions are provided. Odder still that you understand him.

He wants you to recreate it, or an approximation of it, at least. You made it this far without hesitation, but this is where you stop. Your fingers do not reach out to pick up the pencil, and you hang your head low, hands shaking as you clutch your shirt. After a while you expect the new man to impart you with some words of comfort, ensure you that you can take your time, that this never comes easy and that he has seen hundreds of cases like yours, the silent child. When the ticking of the clock in your mind proves to be too much, you glance up at him.

He merely smiles at you. His face doesn’t even wrinkle.  Your eyes widen. His mere presence is the comfort. Maybe he has seen a hundred cases like yours, or maybe you are the first patient he has ever helped. It does not matter, for you decide that regardless if he can truly help you or not, you must get it out there. For so long it has remained only with you. It. That thing. You wonder if its even possible to put on paper. Oh well. What harm is there in trying? You finally take up that pencil and gently press it to the canvas.

You close your eyes and remember the blood.

 

~

 

She looks like a warrior. Or at least the modern approximation. Instead of armor she’s clad in a red and black checkered flannel, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a plain black undershirt that actually covers the whole of her stomach for once—which means she’s really serious. Instead of a helmet she wears a gray beanie with two holes cut for her antlers, jagged pillars of dark blue erupting from a waterfall of black locks peppered with blonde imperfections. Instead of greaves she is adorned in black ripped jeans and combat boots with yellow laces, the ones you have tried to put on the past because they looked so cool to no avail, as all her shoes are specially fitted for her and her weirdly shaped feet. Instead of a broadsword she brandishes an aluminum baseball bat, her “lucky lumber” she calls it, a tool that has seen so much abuse over the years it sports a nasty crack right down the center. Yet it still holds strong, and won’t fail her now in this hour of need.

You feel small in contrast to her. You’re just wearing your typical green and yellow striped shirt, black khaki pants, and horned headband that so rarely leaves your head it has almost become a part of you. Accounting for your lack of weapon, Dess unveils something she previously had hidden behind her back and you gasp, feeling a sharp pang in your head. A devious instrument of torture—a whiffle bat. Only this one is not the typical device used to torment you, as when Dess hands it off the weight causes it to nearly slide straight from your grip and bumps against the grass. It is also aluminum, and you are extremely grateful that she never decided to hit you with this one.

“Congratulations, Kris.” She quickly taps her own bat to your left shoulder, then your right. “You have officially graduated from piano apprentice to partner in crime. Nothing can stop us now.”

An immense amount of joy and a desire to hug her nearly overtakes you, but you decide to refrain and merely nod with your chin, to maintain your air of coolness.

With your new weapon in hand, all the fear of standing in front of the shelter doors nearly leaves you. Dess punches in a code to a panel that you just barely can’t see due to your limited stature. You frown, and then the door slides open with a little buzzing noise. Dess places her hand on the metal and pushes it further, revealing nothing but a pitch black void inside. The two of you size it up, unsure of what awaits inside. You take a step back, an ominous feeling suddenly creeping up your entire skeleton. There is something…peculiar, about this darkness. It’s more than when your mother turns off the lights at night when you sleep, more than the void of the basement in Dess and Noelle’s house when the power goes out. There is no difference whatsoever when you close your eyes and open them while looking into the shelter.

Dess feels it too, but she’s doing a better job of hiding it, her reaction contained to a mere swallow and wayward glance at you to ensure you are still onboard for this. And of course you are. You’re her partner in crime. You line up beside her and she ruffles your hair again, just how you like it. All this attention spent there, you really hope she notices that you had it cut just like hers recently.

You’d never admit it to anyone, but all you’ve ever really wanted was to be just like her.

“Alright. The game plan, Krismas, is very simple - smash up whatever the hel-heck is in here that dear old mom holds so near to her heart. She thinks she can control my life, rope me in to whatever boring work she does. But she’s wrong.” She looks at you for approval now, an endless amount of it you are already willing to give. “My life is mine, and what can I do it with it?”

Anything you want. She gives you a fist bump and leads the charge inside.

You then spend quite a long time walking. And walking. And walking. Your feet start to ache, the metal bat in your hands growing heavier with each step. Dess holds a flashlight in front of her that appears to be doing exactly nothing. It shines a light, yes, but that light reflects nothing except more dark. You can’t see or feel any walls, or notice any ceiling far above. The only constants are Dess and the ground beneath you.

“Am I crazy or is this place huge?” She whispers. You clutch at her arm with your free hand, both to ensure you stick together in the pitch black and to give you some reassurance that you aren’t alone when you can’t see anything in front of you. “Mom said it was older than the town itself…I wonder just how long it has been around.” You detect a hint of uncertainty in her voice that does absolute wonders for stoking the fires of fear. “What do you think is down here? Ice-e’s lair?” You shiver but shake your head. You haven’t believed in Ice-e in years. Was she trying to pull a fast one on you? “Or perhaps a legion of severed hands?” Her fingers crawl like spiders on your back and you yelp. She giggles and promptly bumps your shoulder. “Sorry. Guess I need to shake the habit of teasing you now that you’re officially a partner in crime. It comes with special privileges, you know.” You ask if your brother is also a partner in crime, and she snorts a rather awkward laugh. “Kind of. But you know how Azzy is. He wouldn’t hurt a fly or destroy any old dusty equipment, not so willing to get his hands dirty like us. He’s more-so…well, how do I even put him into words?” You can just barely make out the details of her face when she shines the flashlight upward in an effort to spot a ceiling. “He’s the mitt to my ball, the sheath to my sword. He catches me, protects me, makes me feel safe. A title doesn’t do him justice. He’s just my Asriel.” You stick out your tongue and somehow she notices despite being physically incapable of seeing you. She pinches your earlobe a little. “Don’t you dare tell him I got so sentimental, eith-” her speech is cutoff as you both step onto a surface with no catch whatsoever. Instantly you plummet to the floor, sliding around like you’re coated in grease as Dess disappears entirely from your peripheral. You finally halt after clawing at the ground and remain still. You call her name several times, the volume increasing with the pace of your heartbeat.

“I’m here!” She thankfully responds from what sounds like a couple dozen feet to your right. You attempt to hobble to your feet but slip again. “Stay there—god, what is this? Feels like ice.” Once more you attempt to lift yourself to your feet, and only after you place your hands in front of you to push down do you notice that your skin as suddenly turned an iridescent cyan. You screech in shock, and that only motivates Dess to find you quicker. With much more grace than you, she slides into view, the singular beam from her flashlight the only beacon for what feels like miles. “Are you okay?!” She slides on her knees and embraces you. Several times you nod, but falter when you catch sight of her. If the Dess outside the shelter had been a warrior of the present, the one inside was now one of the past. Head to hoof she was covered in full silver plate armor, and wore a flowing red cape that draped over her right shoulder and arm. Her antlers had also changed to match the accessory, the cold blue now a warm crimson. She must have seen the changes reflected in your eyes, as she suddenly glanced at herself, ran her hand over her antlers, and muttered a series of words that would have resulted in getting her mouth washed with soap by Kris’ mother.

“What did we just step into?” She said it, not expecting any answer whatsoever, and fully reconsidering just about everything her mom had said to her before this. Her eyes run over what used to be her lucky bat, hand now clutched tightly to the hilt of a magnificent sword with a curious crack running between its fuller. Excitedly, you feel around for the whiffle bat you had dropped when you slipped, and foolishly cut your hand upon retrieving the new weapon. It is longer and spindlier than Dess’ blade, looking almost like a big metal toothpick rather than a sword. You frown, but drop the expression with a wince of pain that Dess notices. Instinctively her hand reaches for a pocket that is no longer there before slowly running along her new cape. Her mouth hangs open for a split second, before her eyes trail back to the sword. “Kris, you don’t think…” whatever she said next was lost on you as your hands grip at nothing but your hair. Without thinking you sink back to the slick surface, what Dess calls ice, and scramble about, searching for your lost horns. You were incomplete without them and would stop at nothing to get them back.

Even when the ground starts rumbling, you still search.

It pulses in a series of increasingly strong quakes. You only stop when a gauntlet grips your shoulder and a body places itself in front of yours. You notice Dess’ arms shaking, cape quivering as it falls without a sense of grace in the windless shelter.

“K-Kris. Kris…stay behind me.” She sounds like she is about to cry and it sucks all the air from your lungs. Gripping her armored legs, you pull yourself around to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that had been causing the shakes in the earth, that has sent Dess into a frenzied sense of protection for you.

You wished you never had seen it.

You wished you never even had eyes to begin with.

Pink and yellow were its eyes. Blindingly white were its fangs, and that was all you could make out of its…face, you think, or whatever approximated for a face. Its presence was suffocating and nearly imperceptible at the same time. It encompassed every facet of you present one moment and barely clung to reality the next. How big was it? The size of a tiger?—no, a bear—no, an elephant. A mountain. A car. A hill. A house cat. A house. A snowfall. A smile. A tear. A breath. A blink. An absence. Nothing. Everything.

It laughs at you. The fangs hanging in the darkness part to reveal another row and a deafening wall of sound. It is the most joyous laugh you have ever heard, like a child screaming as they shoot down the slide at the park on a summer evening, combined with the sound a star makes when it dies, exploding into a trillion pieces deep off in the cosmos and birthing endless new life. The only thing that keeps you from flying away is Dess’ iron grip on your hand. She plunges her sword into the black ice for purchase as the two of you barely avoided drifting off into the infinite abyss permanently. The teeth finally close and you can not stop crying. You weep and weep, harder than when you broke your arm after jumping off the roof and landing on the grass instead of the inflatable pool, harder than when Asriel left town for the cross-country tournament.

“Kris.” Her words break through your despair like a knife through flesh. Your swollen eyes can barely focus on her, the light emitting from her core illuminating a patch of space no larger than the area encompassing you and her. It was like a fever dream, a sheen of bright purple spilling off her armor and reflecting brilliantly all around her. “Nothing, is going to hurt you down here, while I’m still standing. Especially not that thing.” She rips her sword from the ice and points it right at that…that…

 

Beast. The tip of your pencil snaps and you meagerly acquire a new one. You let yourself succumb to thought once more.

 

The Beast is approaching you both, slower and slower with each step. You think it has limbs. Maybe. Who knows? You are still trying to determine if its eyes are even shaped like eyes or if its teeth are made from moon rocks or glass or iron. There is one aspect to the Beast that is fully tangible, though: its tail. You first notice it when you hear a scraping sound like a nail across a chalkboard, a razor-sharp point digging into the black ice. You follow the noise to spot a twisted, segmented line of circular nodes, like a millipede or caterpillar with a spike for a head. It must have been so long it surrounds this entire field of ice, as you listen closer and hear it rattling, shaking and writhing all around you, suffocating even more of your senses. You are being trapped, ensnared like helpless prey to be devoured whole.

“You can’t scare us!” Dess belts, pounding her cuirass as she swings her sword in an arc. The Beast is a stone’s throw away from you now, face still drifting along smoothly in the dark. “You can laugh, you can crawl, you can grin all you like, you stupid bastard, and it won’t help. We’ll be the ones laughing in the end, you hear me?! I PROMISE that!”

It accepts her challenge.

Like a crack of a whip, the segmented tail lashes towards Dess. You chalk it up to her experience in sports, the ability to react to a fastball belting towards her at blinding speed, to how she is just barely able to lift her sword and deflect the blow. It sends her reeling back, helped along by the ice beneath her. She grunts in exertion, muscles no doubt screaming in pain. You can not just stand there and watch despite the fear, and somehow managed to stagger to your feet and lift your own sword high. With one eye trained on Dess and you each, the Beast smiles wider and sends another series of lashes at the both of you.

“KRIS! GET DOWN!” It’s too late. You flail your sword all around you in a vain effort to perhaps catch its tail or protect yourself. It is not enough, and the spiked end cuts a few nasty gashes right into your face. A clang of metal smacks away another strike just before it clips your shoulder, and Dess pushes you down to take the brunt of the strike herself. It was hopeless. The Beast is tireless, and you two are already exhausted. It relents for just a moment, most likely to gloat, and Dess glances down at you. Upon seeing your wounds, she grits her teeth, grips her sword with both hands, and bellows a battle cry at the creature made of darkness. From her body, to her armor, to her blade, a torrent of purple light erupts in a slash of energy that flies through the air straight towards the beast. For a split, glorious second, its smile falters. Whether the attack actually manages to do some damage or not is a mystery, unfortunately, as it makes no sound of pain. In astonishment, Dess gasps, meeting Kris’ eyes to ensure it hadn’t been a hallucination after all.

“J-just like Dragon Blazers, huh?!” She is nearly delirious and it motivates you to no ends. You stand back up and join Dess with your own battle stance, holding your sword just like she does. “I have no idea how I did that, but if I could do it, then so can you. Kris, let’s kill this stupid thing and go home.” You manage a weak little smile that in turn motivated her to laugh. She faces the Beast’s disembodied face once more to resume her typical Dess taunting. “There’s one more thing you should know-” she readies her sword for another slash, holding it with both hands above her head, and you mirror it to a tee as your own glow softly emits around you, “-HOLIDAYS HAPPEN WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!” Simultaneously you bring your swords down, and an X of red and purple spirals off your swords through the air straight at the Beast’s face. Its eyes close and for the briefest of moments you can celebrate. For the shortest, most incalculable amount of time imaginable, you and Dess feel invincible. You are amazing. You are indomitable. You are magical.

And then the face reappears directly above you as the ice explodes.

Your feet leave the ground as you sail for an eternity, finally landing on jagged bits of cold rubble into a slide and only stopping once your back slams into a solid wall. The air knocks clean from your lungs, leaving you gasping and heaving as more bits of rubble land on top of you. Somehow it gets even more dark, and the glow of determination fades as quickly as it appears. You are this close to closing your eyes until a faint purple outline tosses the rubble aside and lifts you from the wreckage. You embrace Dess tighter than ever before, begging over and over in her ear to go home, to go back to mom and dad and your brother.

“I know, I know.” Her voice breaks as she faced you, brushing your hair aside to look into your eyes. “Kris. Look at me. Please, just look at me.” Your shaking subsides just enough to listen to her. You notice her halfhearted smile, only there to try and lift your spirits. It should not have worked, yet it must have been the brightest thing you had ever seen, because it dries the tears like they are nothing. When she notices that you are still holding strong, it motivates her even more. Her grip tightens on your shoulders, and her eyes spin as she formulates a plan. “I’m gonna need your sword.” Without hesitation you give it to her, and she studies the metal wire for a moment. Off in the distance you hear that rumbling again and swallow, knowing the Beast is once again approaching. “This place, wherever we are, the rules are different. We can do magic, and if my hunch is correct-” while talking she breaks the sword in half over her armored knee, “the stuff we brought with us can too. My bats became swords, my clothes became armor, and why?! HA! Hell if I know!” She holds the split pieces of the bat/sword and closes her eyes tight. “Maybe there aren’t any rules at all! I say we make our own rules, huh!?” You follow her lead and shut your eyes. A few seconds later you both open them, and in Dess’ hands lie a pair of ice skates. “God damn, I’m good. Put it in the swear jar.” You waste no time in helping her discard her boots and fasten the skates. While doing so, Dess notices the wounds on your face, and grips her cape to wipe away the blood. 

In that moment of tenderness, where she offers such unadulterated vulnerability, is when you finally notice that she is also bleeding, a nasty gouge foaming beneath her shoulder armor. You gasp, and she merely smiles. 

“I know, right? First time it ever happened I had that same reaction.” She reaches to dab her fingers into the wound and studies it in the brilliant purple glow of her own soul. “Thought I was the biggest freak in the whole wide world. I…heh, I still really don’t know why I do it, too. I think either my mom or dad is lying to me. Which one do you think I look more like?” You blink, but she is already shaking her head and giggling. “Kidding. Don’t answer that. The truth is nowadays I don’t even care. So what if I bleed while Noelle doesn’t? Does that suddenly make her not my sister? Fuck no.” She smears the blood on her hand across her face like war paint, two lines under her eyes and one down the bridge of her nose. She then does the same to you, ending it with a little tap to your chin. “Never be ashamed of who you are, Kris. Never try to hide it. Never try to fit in, or conform, just because other people or monsters want you to. You,” she jabs her finger into your chest and you feel like crying for a completely different reason, “can do anything. I don’t need hooves for hands, and you certainly don’t need horns on your head. All I need to be is December Holiday, and all you need to be is Kris Dreemurr. Now, shall we go and kick this demon’s ass?” You mimic her war cry from earlier, and she offers you her arm. You take it as easily as breathing. “Sorry about your sword, but I’m gonna need you to trust me. Think you can do that for me?” She throws you right around onto her back, where you latch on with your arms tightly secured around her neck. Filled to the brim with determination, Dess glows like a purple flame, stoked by your own energy that trails off her back like an even grander red cape. She holds her sword high as the tremors reach their peak and the tail rattles in preparation to strike. 

But that was the Beast’s mistake—daring to challenge December Holiday on the rink.

With her new skates she effortlessly avoids the strike, whirling around to catch a wide birth as the Beast starts in pursuit. Over and over it tries to strike but Dess is quicker, more flexible and graceful than the lumbering behemoth. All the experience came back to her, the years of figure skating and hockey games, the countless hours spent on the ice giving her exactly what she needed to outmaneuver the Beast. She howls in triumph, Kris joining her so that the two were like a pair of wolves turning the tables on their hunter. With each movement, more and more flecks of blood escape Dess and pepper the ice, red against black all these years later. The sight greets her like an old friend, and once she is surrounded in a circle of her own life fuel, she brims with the peak of her perseverance. Nothing can stop her now, and with you latching onto her like a motivational battery, victory was all but certain. She raises her sword high, higher than ever, and you grip it as well to help her bring it down with all your combined might. A shockwave of pure magic meets the segmented tail right as it lashes out—

and severs the appendage entirely.

Pure triumph elates you. Dess raises up her sword like a champion as you clatter to the ice from the blowback. It doesn’t even hurt, and as Dess turns to look at you, it feels as if not a single thing in the world could ruin the moment, this fragment of eternity encapsulated by two boundless smiles.

Yet, like Dess said, this place had no rules. And it went both ways, for enemy and friend. As soon as the severed tail hits the ice, it crawls to life with a mind of its own, skittering with blinding speed straight at the two of you. She turns just barely too late, and it sticks its point out like a scorpions stinger straight at Dess’ heart.

You could have moved. You could have leapt up and pushed her out of the way, throwing your arm in front of the tail to save her from anything more. Yet you didn’t. You just sat there, a useless piece of rubble amidst the ice.

You coward.

It doesn’t stop Dess from moving. She must have thought the tail was headed for you instead, as she leaps backward with her right arm outstretched. You shut your eyes and hear a nasty crunch, like razors ripping through meaty sinew and severing bone. Something heavy collides with your chest and you slide for what feels like miles before stopping only due to the laws of psychics. When your eyes open once more—there was Dess, on one knee and shielding you as usual! She was okay! You open your mouth to yell her name, but…you are stopped. You are stopped by the thick, pooling swathe of blood coalescing at your feet. You are stopped by the jagged stump where her left antler used to be.

Your cries are not stopped by her severed hand laying motionless on the ice.

Dess collapses to her other knee as she coughs, clutching her gushing left arm tightly before shakily turning to face you. You grip both her shoulders and shake her, screaming over and over how sorry you are. It all seems to go straight through her as she smiles yet still. With her one good hand she sinks her fingers into your shoulder before gently gripping your cheek.

“It’s fine. You’re fine Krismas. But I…I think this is the end of the line for me.” You yell so loudly you lose your voice in a straining crack. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I brought you here. I should have been…better.” She winces as her wound continues to gush. “Better daughter. Better sister…” she stares straight at you during that last part with crystalline clarity, “…let me just say, Kris. The days I spent with you, and your brother, and my sister all together…those were the happiest days of my life. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Not a single thing.” She leans in and kisses the top of your head, before giving you a little push. “Tell Elly I love her more than all the stars in the sky, and please…run. Run as fast you can without looking back.” You can’t. You can’t leave her. Not now. You don’t even deserve to live. She notices your hesitation, and musters the last of her strength to cry out one last time. “RUN!”

Something grips her by the leg and hoists her skyward, dragging her off into the darkness, still screaming.

The last thing you see as you sprint off in the opposite direction is a toothy smile.

And the last thing you ever hear within the walls of the shelter are the faint cries of a lost girl begging for her mother, over and over.

 

~

 

You don’t quite remember how you ended up back home, yet you stand there, back in your normal clothes and covered in nothing more than a few patches of dried blood. Your father greets you in the frame, smiling for only a second when he sees his child returned home. You walk right past him without a hug, straight up the stairs and into your room. He asks you what’s wrong, but you ignore every word as you shut the door.

 

You don’t quite remember the next few days, or weeks even. Yet, there is one image from that time that you can still perfectly conjure: your brother, sitting on the bed next to yours, solemnly clutching a withered yellow flower, and speaking to it ever-so softly.

 

~

 

You put the pencil down, and the man walks around to see your creation: a pair of eyes, hanging above a crescent moon smile.

He nods and sits back down, jotting in his notebook. He mutters something, inaudible, but you read his lips. Excellent.

 

~

 

Sometimes, when I’m all by myself at night, I’ll look up at the stars. Every time I do I am transported somewhere else, to a time when my sister was just beside me and holding me gently, whispering little jokes in my ear and planning out our entire future. She said that there are places like the night sky, places where there are infinite lights strung through the darkness, perpetual beauty high and low, found in every corner in places that never slept.

She promised to take me to a place like that one day.

Just know, I am still waiting, December.

And I’ll keep waiting.

I will never stop waiting for you.

Notes:

Years ago I swore off writing fanfiction entirely, but as expected, Toby’s game was so incredible, moving and inspiring that it has pushed me out of retirement.

This is only my second time ever posting something here, the first being a free-verse poem years ago. I am extremely excited to hear any thoughts, positive and negative, and am more than open to posting more stories with different characters after this.

Thank you very much for taking the time to read my story, and thanks again to Toby Fox and everyone else on the Deltarune team for continuing to alter the course my life in the best ways possible.