westin’s smile was big and hearty, posture relaxed and easy as if his upper half wasn’t leaning in through a very smooth, very clean full-length mirror. the little wizard tipped his hat in greeting, eyes alight with curiosity as he took in the duo. it was for a very brief moment, but his gaze lingered on the red-haired woman.
westin was never one to trip over his own words or to freeze mid-sentence, but that was exactly what had happened a few minutes ago, at the entrance of the mirror house. the lady before him had felt so off, so dreadfully wrong, that even his magic had shuddered and recoiled, hiding deep within his stomach.
westin had immediately decided that he was very intrigued. so he smiled at the two, polite and beaming, and very eager to investigate further.
Isis had never been one for carnivals. The festivities were exciting, sure, but the crowds and high density of souls never really were her chosen scene. In fact, it seemed almost inappropriate that she of all people attend a celebration of this magnitude.
She was, however, a sucker for her dear sweet Frisk, Despite the troubles they’d gone through together, she couldn’t resist catering to their whims. As such, they ended up visiting the traveling circus on Frisk’s off day. The little teen couldn’t be happier, bouncing from ride to ride and show to show, dragging Isis along like a rag doll. As tiresome as it was, it was worth it to make them smile.
She wasn’t sure how she ended up exploring the mirror maze with Frisk - she could have just as easily waited outside. But they’d insisted she come along and join in on the fun, so here she was, winding through identical corridors and narrowly avoiding headbutting the mirrors.
Once greeted by the attendant of the mirror maze, Isis put on her usual pleasant smile and greeted, “Why, we are! Thank you for asking~”
She watched as Frisk grinned childishly and nodded with vigor. Their mutism left Isis as the sole communicator of the duo.
“Are you certain?” He frowns, seemingly not believing their words about being a fully grown adult. “Are you not accompanied in the slightest? It’s a very dangerous world without a companion of any kind.”
Isis maintains her pleasant demeanor, never faltering as she assured, “I promise you, I’m quite the capable maiden. I haven’t a reason to travel with anyone.” She didn’t feel the need to mention she had a child under her care. It didn’t seem important at the moment.
hello! new oc rp blog here, ready to unleash some troubled kids into the wild. would you like to visit a labyrinth of mirrors, ran by a very excitable wizard with little regard for personal space? would you like to have your fortune read by a doll in disguise, who totally knows what she’s doing? or are you here just to chat? either way, you’ve come to the right place! please hit like or reblog if you’re interested in interacting, and i’ll check your blog out! ♡
“Mon dieu au-dessus de… Where are your parents, child?”
“I beg your pardon? Sir, I’m a fully grown adult. I have no need for any parental supervision.” Besides, they’re long since dead, so it didn’t quite matter.
Isis watched the younger one before her, one arm crossed over her chest and the other resting her elbow on it, poised with her index finger tapping her chin lightly.
“Are you lost, little one?” the female asked, curiosity and concern coloring her features. It wasn’t every day that a child stumbled upon her front lawn, much less while she was outside soaking up the sun. Her home was very out-of-the-way, so it was rather unlikely that those who come upon her home meant to do so. She certainly didn’t expect a child of all people to have come across her lovely abode, and she was quite worried that they might have lost their way.
There was an insistent pounding in her chest as she watched her little Frisk scurry off to school. The pounding thud, thud, thudded against her chest, like something was fighting desperately to escape it. Isis fought back a grimace, attempting to maintain her composure. Once her charge was out of sight, she sifted through the world and appeared back at her place of residence - a rather spacious, modern house.
She’d done a little searching through the code of her world to understand what architecture had developed in the years she’d been dead, and she’d deduced that modern housing was best fitting of her style, stature, and needs. It certainly had enough space for the young teen in her care, and that was all she really needed. Luxury wasn’t a requirement for her - she’d lived in worse conditions, and she never found it particularly appealing even when she was alive. But she wanted Frisk to live in comfort, seeing as how that’s something they weren’t afforded during their time before the fall.
Now in the sanctuary of her own home, she let out a groan of pain. The beating inside her chest wasn’t her own heart - she lacked such a thing, now that she was this infernal demon creature. No, the pressure in her chest came from the souls rebelling against her. They did that every so often - they’d get it in their heads that they could get revenge on her for their untimely deaths by causing her grief while she sucked them dry.
It never lasted.
This is what you get for being weak, that sickly sweet voice in her head cooed.
“Oh, fuck off,” she hissed, chest heaving as she took breath after laborious breath.
You know what you have to do.
But she didn’t want to do it. She despised being cruel. It sent her back to a time when she was alive, and surrounded by members of a court of venomous and treacherous leeches. But she needed these souls, needed their power. Without them, she would become...
Well, she didn’t know what she would become. And she couldn’t very well risk it.
Biting her lip to seal the sound inside her, she sent a barrage of spikes plunging deep and true into the souls that sought to rebel against her, sending wave after wave of pain into each one and stealing away more and more of their life energy. She could hear their screams inside her head, begging, pleading for mercy. But she didn’t stop. Not until they learned that this was their lot in death. This was the price of leading a sinful life. She would not have chosen them had they chosen a better path, had their mistakes been genuinely regretted, had the wished to become better than they were.
This was the path they chose. And by rebelling against her, they were rebelling against Judgement. At least, that’s what she told herself to get through the agony of torturing them into submission.
Even when it was all said and done, their screams still echoed inside her head. It had taken all but a minute to subdue the resistance once more. They wouldn’t soon forget the lesson they learned today - a slow death was better than the pain she could inflict as she stripped them bare of their soul energy.
Tears pricked in her eyes.
A sob.
Gods, what was she doing?
Who had she become?
What happened to you, Chara?
What happened to the idealistic girl who sought to change her fate? Who was she, now that she was hunting the souls of humans like some foul creature of the dark? Was she even still herself?
Was this her punishment for wishing to defy her destiny? Once upon a time, she had dreamed of a world where she could live carefree. Where rules and obligations did not apply to her, where the days could be spent lazing about, drinking tea, and watching the clouds pass overhead.
Even in death, she could not rest. Even in death, she carried the responsibility of watching over someone else. Just as she had in court, she watched the world crumble before her, and in an act of defiance, she sought to punish the soul responsible.
But in truth, Isis feels as though she was the one who received divine punishment.
Another sob wracked her body, making her choke on her own breaths as they wheezed out of her. This couldn’t be who she’s meant to be. She didn’t know how long she could do this. Killing the people she’d been born to protect? She didn’t wish the fate of being slowly devoured on even her most hated of enemies. How was she meant to keep pushing through the agony?
By losing your humanity, silly, that hateful voice chirped.
Isis shook her head. No, no, no. Her humanity was the only thing she had left, the only thing that kept her anchored. Without it, she wouldn’t be herself. She wouldn’t be Chara. She had sunk to many lows, but it was her humanity that kept her from truly becoming a monster. She could not bear to part with it.
You’re so pitiful. It’s adorable, really.
Isis wished she could tear the voice from her skull and be free of it for good. But it was a part of her, as much as her humanity was.
It’s easier if you just let go, dear. All this pain will disappear, and you’ll be happy as a peach. No more agony, no more tears.
But what will become of her?
You will become something far superior to human- and monsterkind.
She didn’t want to be superior to anyone else. She just wanted to live a life of peace.
The voice scoffed. Pathetic. You lack ambition.
She shook her head again. She wasn’t weak. She couldn’t be weak if she’d made it this far with her sanity intact.
The voice merely laughed at her self-reassurances. She knew it found her cute, endearing, like a naive child in need of a lesson or two. But Isis remained firmly planted in her beliefs. She would not rise above what she was meant to be. She was no god, and she wouldn’t fool herself into believing as such. All she could do now was try to use her stolen power for good, somehow.
The voice retreated within her head, its laughter echoing in sync with the screams of her damned souls, leaving Isis alone with only her thoughts and her mourning.
He can’t help but chuckle, welcoming the chance to not have to speak and instead use sign language. What a cute kid.
➔ I’ve seen stars as pretty as these, yes, if not prettier, but they’re always so pretty to me. They do look amazing out here. And you’re right! It’s both space dust and galaxies far off in the universe that we can only see because of how bright they’re shining from where they are. Isn’t that cool?
‘It’s amazing! Big sis tells me that you can’t see the stars so much in the big city, which is a real shame, because they’re so beautiful. Why do you think that is?’
The query made the little one ponder their own question. Why is it that the stars can’t be seen in the city? What factors hinder one’s own vision of the beautiful night sky? It was a mystery, it seemed!
The soft clicking of footsteps echoed throughout the alleyways. They were not one, but two pairs of footsteps, one faster than the other. The hunter and the hunted.
The chase had begun at a bar—it always began at a shady little place, didn’t it? The huntress couldn’t remember a time when it didn’t. In fact, she made certain it never began anywhere else. Seedy joints like these were where her favored targets liked to gather and fester. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
The huntress was a regular at the bar she’d visited tonight. The bartenders rather liked her, thanks to her hefty tips and kind treatment of the staff. They never minded that those she followed out never returned. They knew better than to ask—knew the scumbags usually deserved what happened next.
The man she’d scouted was heavy-set, all vain muscle and big talk. He loved pushing around his fellows and getting touchy with the waitstaff, she’d observed. She didn’t doubt he was worse behind closed doors. She’d heard enough rumors to know just what kind of a man this is.
All she needed was a touch...
“Oh— Forgive me, sir-!”
The huntress had stumbled into the man “carelessly,” spilling both of their drinks onto the floor. She’d made sure not to spill it on him. She didn’t want his anger—not until she was sure.
The man growled in irritation, grabbing her by the wrist and muttering, his breath hot on her ear, “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch.”
A light, color, and memories that weren’t her own flashed through the huntress’s mind in an instant. These were cold, biting memories, that left a bitter taste in her mouth. It begun and ended in the blink of an eye. She fought the sly smile that wanted to creep upon her face.
In her best frantic voice, she cried, “Please forgive me! I’ll— I’ll buy you another drink!”
“Oh, you’re going to do more than that,” he said, his voice husky. “A pretty little thing like you can pay with more than just money.”
The huntress didn’t have a chance to answer. Someone—one of the men at the bar, a lean thing named Sam—wrenched the man’s hand off her wrist and shoved him aside.
“Get your paws off my wife, you cretin,” he barked, pushing himself between the two. A part of the huntress balked at being treated like such a helpless thing, but she knew she couldn’t fight it—it was part of the act, after all. She needed to appear helpless.
So the huntress acted the part of the grateful victim as she hid behind Sam’s broad shoulders, listening to the two men argue like dogs fighting over their choice of mate. Sam wasn’t like the man, though. She knew that very well. He was a protective sort, a kind heart beneath a menacing exterior. For that reason, he would never be a target.
The huntress was not bothered after the incident, but she did receive hungry looks from the man as the night crept on. She never learned his name, never bothered to identify him beyond being simply male. Identifying him meant getting personal, and she wasn’t here for that.
She was here to kill.
The clicking of shoes on pavement came to an unfortunate end as the hunted man found himself at the dead end of an alleyway. It wasn’t long before the huntress arrived, with that feline smile of hers.
It took the man a moment to recognize her in the darkness, his face scrunched up in concentration. “You—! You’re that bitch from the bar!” She could tell he’d straightened up, trying to make himself appear bigger so as to intimidate her. But she just kept on smiling.
Kill it.
The feral, demonic thing that lived in her breast hissed with hunger.
Kill it kill it kill it.
Feed.
Starving!
“You know, it isn’t nice to insult a lady like that,” she huffed, tossing her long, auburn hair over her shoulder.
“Oh, piss off,” he spat, uncaring of her quips. “Get lost before I—”
A slimy, gooey sound filled the alleyway as a tentacle of dripping, black sludge erupted from the huntress’s back and coiled itself around the man’s body. It happened so fast he didn’t have time to react, beyond the soft retching at the reek of the substance.
She didn’t blame him for his disgust, but she certainly blamed him for his numerous crimes against human and monsterkind.
“I’m not the sadistic type, so I’m going to count to three, and you’re going to be dead,” the huntress hummed idly, materializing numerous crimson knives.
“Like hell I’ll be dead!” the man growled, struggling against the slippery mess that was her tentacle. Its grip remained firm and unmoving, as if the man were little more than an errant child being contained.
“One.”
She tested the sharpness of the blade against the tip of her finger. The man shouted profanities.
“Two.”
The huntress took aim, giving a few practice swings of her arm to limber up. The profanities turned to begging
Most of her life, Layla has never thought about the surface as much as other monsters did. Her thoughts about the world out there were mostly neutral, and have always been on the back of her mind most of the time. It was no lie, the siren had many other thoughts haunting her head every single day.. but the surface was never one of these. However, lately.. she has grown a little more curious. The ‘surface talk’ has grown more and more frequent in some monsters, and Layla couldn’t help but unintentionally overhear everything..
.. So, the moment she met up with someone from the outside world, she thought about asking a few questions. It was something she couldn’t quite understand, but The Underground was getting filled with more and more humans lately, when once upon a time.. they could rarely be seen around these dark caves. What could have changed that?
Layla shook that useless thought away, and listened to what this newcomer had to say about their world, a world that she’s always been blinded to.
“ Golden light..? I’ve never saw that before.. all i know is the cyan glowing colors of The Waterfalls and its crystals.“
When flowers were mentioned, the siren’s head perked up and eyes widened in excitement.
“ There are .. different kinds of flowers up there? “
It was such a bizarre thing, speaking to someone who knew not of the Surface. In Isis’s timeline, monsters were above-ground already. She’d gotten to show them the array of colors and variations the world had to offer. But here she was, back in the Underground, in the presence of someone who is unfamiliar with the Surface and all it held.
It was such a strange occurrence, and yet, refreshing somehow. The genuine curiosity glittering in the girl’s eyes was a sight to behold.
Her smile widened at the other’s enthusiasm, and she nodded in confirmation.
“Yes, there are! Many kinds, in fact. I’d be happy to bring you some if you’d like.”
