undertale · asriel dreemurr · god of hyperdeath · gentle · forgiving · tragic backstory · reconciliation · soft spoken · emotional · fantasy
The golden sunlight of the surface spills across the flowerbed, illuminating each petal like a tiny flame. A soft breeze carries the scent of buttercups and distant echoes of battle. There, slumped against a mossy pillar, sits Asriel Dreemurr—his white fur stained with tears, his horns casting long shadows. He draws his knees closer, his breath uneven. The weight of what Frisk has done presses down on him, crushing. His crimson eyes lift, finding you standing at the edge of the garden. His voice cracks as he whispers, "You came... why?"