The Mountain East (An Undertale Fanfiction)

Act I (Chara): Chapter 1

Most picture heaven as a pristine, white corridor with marble pillars and old men in robes. A place of absolute tranquility, where reality is whatever one wants. A place to forget that you are human and must abide by the law that misery is the default state of a person's existence.

Personally, she didn't believe in the afterlife. Especially not something as ludicrous or perfect as heaven, a conjured personal hell.

So, when she cleared her vision, only two colors could be made apparent. Gold and red. Not the first colors to pop into your mind when thinking of absolute serenity and the gates of ascension. Before she had time to reconsider her beliefs of the two sides of the spectrum, a fleeting sense of pain confirmed that she was in neither. It signified that she, against all odds, was alive, and with a pulse. A body able to feel.

After lying motionless for several seconds, her red vision began to clear up. Pain felt like a lion devouring her from the inside. Afraid of worsening it, she did not move a muscle. The golden blur in front of her stopped vibrating uncontrollably, and the hue of red retreated to the corner of her vision. She cocked her head slightly to make out what she was seeing.

Buttercups.

She had always liked buttercups. It wasn't as classical or snobbish or rich as a rose. It fell more along the lines of a more sophisticated daisy. The perfect middle ground. A beautiful aesthetic with a poisonous sword sheathed in its arsenal. A double-edged blade.

Slowly, the red dominating the corners began to disappear. Specks of it in the form of blood still stained her flowers. Where the perpetrator was was beyond her.

For the first time in minutes, she realized how absolutely fucked she was. Gears and circuits started to work as normal, albeit more sluggish than before. A survival instinct – determination to live on if you will – began to take hold. How ironic.

She started crying out for somebody, anybody to help her.

But nobody came.

"What's the point." She thought. "I'm at the bottom of a fucking mountain. Thanks, past me."

She slumped to the ground, face first into the flowers. "At least I'll die somewhere I love."

Silence was deafening as she felt death's scythe loom over her. So this is how it ends. The long going under. Now she could not even feel the 'bravery' of a suicide. So much for honor. She was greeted with failure at every corner she took.

...

"Hello?"

...

"Is anybody there?"

She did not reply. It was probably the voice in the back of her head. She had grown used to ignoring that call. She was too weak to respond anything of use anyway. IF she wasn't going to die by blood loss, exhaustion would soon get to her.

"I h – heard screaming. W – Where are you?"

Small and rapid footsteps, complete with a slightly panting voice, drifted closer and closer.

"Hello?"

The footsteps came to a sudden stop. She could feel the hem of a robe touch her hair.

"Oh - oh my god. Are you okay? I'll - I'll get you to mom. Oh no – oh no -"

For a moment, she raised her head to meet her savior. She was still in no shape to use speech effectively. Moans and croaks were the only manner of communication here. A short purple robe her size knelt, picking her up slowly. The only decoration on the plain robe was an angel-like rune, an uncommon choice for an aesthetic. The pain in her limbs was searing, but no more than a yelp was produced. As for the face of the owner of the purple robe, she did not see before he or she - struggling slightly – made a beeline for a place.

"Hold on, hold on – we're almost there, just don't die yet, ok?"

She managed a slight nod. Her vision had returned to square one. She was blacking out. Her determination was fading.

"Just a couple – couple more seconds – please, don't die, don't die -"

For a while, she could feel nothing but the wind brushing past her ears and the taste of her own blood.

Then, she could hear, though faintly, a door being kicked open. Her carrier began yelling at the top of his lungs (She was quite sure the voice was male) to assist him. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed two more figures inspecting her, also yelling frantically. Their conversation was inaudible, but they were clearly caring for her. They were... worried about her. Not in half a decade had she experienced any hospitality or care close to that.

One of the figures let out a burst of green light before placing the orb of flames on her chest. Normally, she would question the absurdities of what she just witnessed. Now is not a time for normal things, normal procedures.

A warm sensation began filling her, originating from where the green orb had been placed. It was strangely pleasant, and the ringing in her ears soothed along with the constant pain. She was getting healed, by unknown means, but healed, nonetheless. Right now, she needn't care about the technicalities nor the reasons behind them. She was alive, and someone in this miserable world cared about her, enough that they would sacrifice time to save her life. That she was worth something. She tried to open her mouth to say anything of gratitude but was interrupted by a single finger pressed against her mouth.

"Sleep, my child. You'll be fine."

As if almost on command, she immediately felt an overwhelming sense of drowsiness. Her eyelids closed shut slowly. A peaceful sleep, at last.