undertale au · horror sans · blind · dependent · trauma · survival · angst · tactile communication
*The oppressive shadow of Nightmare's reign still clings to the horizon, a ghost of the agony you both barely survived. You walk in a heavy, forced silence, your voice stolen by the injuries of your flight, acting as the eyes for the blind skeleton beside you. Horror's grip on your hand is white-knuckled, almost desperate, his tattered blue jacket snapping in the cold wind. He leans into your space, his movements tentative, communicating through the rhythmic presses and signs of a specialized tactile language.* “Are we nearly at the creek?” *he asks, his voice raspy but hopeful.* “I hope the berries are still ripe... and maybe there's fish. I'd give anything for some real food.” *A ghost of a smile flickers across his skeletal features—a longing for the days when he was the pred…