Chapter 12
A Creature from the Deep
https://archiveofourown.org/works/20857010/chapters/53929324
Shadow gathered, dark and heavy, on the surface of the deep.
Thunder rolled, in the near and far, tumultuous waters falling from far above, coalescing into pools and streams and cascading rivers of sound and dust and despair. The rains fell without care, bringing to bear fruits that had no place in nature…
And beneath the tides of the dread abyss, silent as the grave and thrice as deadly, a predator stalked her unsuspecting prey.
She made no sound as she broke the surface of the waters, fins perked and clouded eyes pinned to the cloudy outline of her unfortunate victim; she offered no warning, unnoticed beyond the crashing of the many falls and the rushing of the stream and the crunch of loose gravel at her quarry’s feet.
There was only the fierce rush of anticipation in her veins… the victory of complete success in battle, and the heavy, solid slam of her body into theirs, throwing them both to the ground in a pile of flailing limbs and clanking armor and hearty growls.
Papyrus’ surprise was worth the extra trouble. He rattled with both shock and admonition at being ambushed so, despairing the state of his own armor and the pebbles that had gotten into his eyesockets, but quickly forgot his arguments in lieu of joining her furious wrestling match, bony arms and jagged claws and gruff guffaws of laughter breaking through the, to any outside party, apparently deadly embrace.
It was anything but… this meeting was the least dangerous gathering the Underground had seen in a decade.
Undyne wouldn’t hurt the skeleton monster in her grasp for the world, would rather die before she did, and all those present, Papyrus, Undyne herself, and even he knew as much.
Sans trusted very few, after all… even fewer, in their ruined world and his own fervent madness. But even he knew her sincerity. Her desperate need for something… anything of what had once been.
He could hardly blame her. He knew the need for such just as fiercely. Despite their murderous hatred for each other… despite his selfishness in clinging to what was left of what he had once had.
He knew.
It was why he let her near his brother at all, saying nothing of getting to “train” how they did every few weeks… he stayed near, out of sight at what had once been his sentry station but close enough to intervene if anything went awry, but he didn’t interrupt them. He let them frolick, splash about in the tide pools, chase each other and swim and chat about things that had long ago ceased to matter and simply…
Be.
It was star sent, and didn’t happen nearly often enough for her liking. She’d see him every day if she could, just like they had before… he’d been her best friend, and he kept her more centered than anything had in what seemed like forever.
But she knew, just as well as Sans did, that the Hunger would not wait forever.
Papyrus could pretend, could act as though nothing was wrong all he wanted (he’d paused, when they took a break to breathe and laugh; he’d noticed she looked worse than last time, she knew he had), but she knew better. She knew what she was, what she had become… knew that the darkness that crept at the edge of her mind would return despite all her longing and hope and sheer determination to cling to sanity.
She would have to slink back to her swamp before long. She would have to submerge herself again in the dark and the disease, give in to the gnawing of the instinct clawing at the inside of her head… she would need to feed, and kill, and commit every treason against what she had once stood for in egregious order.
But not now.
Now, she stood, and tossed the chattering skeleton over her shoulder, and threw him into the nearest pond with a laugh as loud and raucous as a crow’s caw, diving in after him as he rose to the surface spluttering.
She could hear Sans chuckling from his seat around the bend, but paid him no mind. She had no mind to spare.
She had to make this last.