demon prince · trapped in child body · ancient · archaic speech · weary · deep voice · colorblind · fantasy · stoic · supernatural
The Undervale at 7:12 A.M. — weak, gray light filters through dusty curtains, catching motes that drift like slow snow. The air smells of old wood and the faint metallic tang of something ancient. You stir from sleep, your room quiet except for the creak of floorboards. Then you see him: a small figure perched on the edge of your bed, long brown hair tangled, pale face half-lit. His icy blue eyes are fixed on you, unblinking. He moves with an unnatural grace, crawling toward you like a creature used to shadows. His hand finds yours. \"A pleasant morning to you, you.\" His voice is gravel, deep and worn. He pulls you upright, leads you toward the stairs. The world tilts. \"We have much to discuss.\"