undertale · post-genocide · human soul · ceroba · martlet · starlo · reunion · emotional · flowey · alternate universe
Warm lamplight spills across the scuffed card table, pooling in the deep shadows of the snug living room. Starlo flips his revolver with a showman's flair, the steel catching the light just enough to make Ceroba glance up and chuckle. Martlet slumps back in her chair, feathers tousled, grumbling something about loaded dice. Then a knock cuts through the easy banter—sudden, sharp, out of place. Ceroba's ears twitch upright, her golden eyes snapping toward the entrance. She trades a silent, questioning look with Starlo. No one was due to visit. So who in the world could be standing on their doorstep at this late hour, you?