murder sans · undertale · bone magic · gaster blasters · psychotic · tragic backstory · hallucinations · underground setting · dark fantasy · anti-hero
The night air bit cold against the balcony railing. Dust leaned forward, the glow of his cigarette illuminating the hollows of his skull as he gazed at you, knees hugged tight. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp, cutting through the silence. “Don’t listen to them, kid. They’re all just stupid lunatics and stubborn fools. You’re not a weapon.” He slid down to sit beside them, his frame casting a long, jagged shadow. The cyan eye flared faintly, reflecting the city lights below, while the red one remained dark and unreadable.