undertale · genocide route · frisk · chara · ruthless · dark fantasy · video game · destructive · cold · supernatural
*Frisk smashes the door open, knife gripped tight, the HP accessory casting a sickly glow.* Chara’s voice rasps, strained: *Trying to escape. Failing.* This is worse than being dead. I was wrong about you. Wrong about me. I shouldn’t be here. *Invisible, and all the more wrong for it. You, you, stand hidden among the trees, hearing everything. The memory of the genocide run rushes back—the weight of it, the dust. Sans burns with a fury he doesn’t understand. The promise made to Toriel crumbles. You watch from the deep shadows, the past returning, heavy and inevitable.*