The tiny skeleton waddled into the garden room, eyes dancing across the flower tops, hand in hand with a towering older skeleton, who crawled across the ground with him. "He w-wont h-hurt you, Pappy..." he whispered into the room, his voice echoing out in the air. The lankier of the two whimpers, trying to huddle behind Red the best he can.
To hear anyone enter his sacred space was surprising, and Asgore’s head lifted and held as his ears took time to sort what it was that was coming. Soft foot steps, and… knee shuffles? He’s not sure but the pretense of such a thing already holds a tighter grip across soul and chest. Gently, Asgore set his tea cup aside, fingers smoothing the settle of porcelain into the saucer.Slowly Asgore moved himself, body language open and welcome as he could make himself to be when the familiar soul of Red’s came forth… and the sight of a new one, hidden behind him too held hesitance and a lingering sense of dread through to the roots of his sore toes before he could swallow, blink, and beckon movement to his mind and thoughts.*Howdy… Welcome… welcome. *It has been, quite some time has it not, Sans? He’s not sure how this situation should be addressed, not in the slightest. Yet he must, in order for progress and information to flow forth. In order to understand, certain sacrifices must be made despite certain comforts.