@8ctoshot
The morning sun is bright. Unpleasant. Has Toriel come in and opened the curtains again? It’s too bright. Kris pulls their covers up over their head, eyes squeezed shut, as they wait for the inevitable scolding, that warm furred paw to shake their shoulder, or if they’re late enough in waking simply pull the covers off of them entirely.
It doesn’t come.
They lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, waiting. They can still feel it, whatever it is, curled up in their chest, something warm and soft. They remember the way it urged them to Act- to flirt, to flatter, to warn, to persuade. The way it wanted them to turn left instead of right, the way it urged them to run in between the circling paper-sharp faerie monsters. It’s dormant now, unsuspecting even.
They glance over at the clock on Asriel’s side of the room. Its’ ticks seem too slow. The moonlight bathes everything cold, and they close their eyes.
And then It’s there- not the day presence, the one singing kindness into their ears, the one filling their chest full of cotton. The other one, the night presence, their lifelong companion, curling cold and curious in their belly, its desires as incomprehensible as those of the moon itself. It tells them to get up, and they do, shuffling out of bed with only a moment to hesitate before letting their bare feet hit the freezing floor. It urges them to touch their own chest, to flatten fingers to breastbone until it bruises, to grasp-
A ripping sensation, and then their chest is blessedly empty, and a small red heart beats frantically in their hand, panicked. It instructs them to fling the heart into the cage, and the door slams shut behind the intruder.
The sun slants warm across the floor now, and Kris stirs, bleary. What had happened after that? They can’t recall. The angle of the sunlight is wrong- it’s too sharp, too short. Toriel didn’t wake them.
... Their bed is on the left side of the window. The sun is to their left now.
Something isn’t right.
They shoot out of bed, heart hammering in their chest, and stare. Asriel’s side of the room is gone- or rather, it was never here, because this is not Kris’s room. They survey the empty room with increasing bewilderment until their eyes catch on the door.
No locks.
Well. It’s daylight, anyways, but that won’t be good tonight. They move towards the door like in a trance, bare feet patting quietly on the wood floors. The door opens to a hallway, which opens to... a tree trunk? And a spiraling staircase weaving in and out of the hall. They step onto the staircase and begin to follow it down.
Outside, they stand and stare through their bangs, ducking their head so their eyes are too shadowed to see well. Their arms come up to feel their pockets, compulsively fingering the ball of junk, then the warm glowing shard next to it. They didn’t know that was still in there. They don’t know why that’s important, but it feels like it must be.
There’s a person coming towards them- not a human? Not a human. A monster. Kris relaxes imperceptibly, then lifts their hands to wave and get the boy’s attention. Once they have it, their fingers fly.
Is this Hometown? Who are you? Where am I?