What is Family for? [UNDERTALE] (COMPLETE)

[7] Blue Lips, Blue Veins

Frisk was always kind of strange.

Now, don't get me wrong, they're the sweetest, purest child you'd ever meet, but there was always something a little bit off.
Or, a lot off.

Previously, they were like every other child at their "school" regarding their outfit. By day you'd wear a simple white and navy school uniform, by night striped pajamas. It was kind of pleasing to the eye how all the children blended in during school photos; frozen smiles and stiff backs galore. Bright, doll-like eyes would gaze into the camera, hands folded neatly on their lap, grins spreading across rosy cheeks in a borderline terrifying manner. Except for, as usual, Frisk.

Their eyes always seemed a bit distant. They'd either be obviously up in the clouds or staring at something else entirely. They soon weren't allowed to partake in any more school pictures, and were told to go to their room and study. The first day Frisk was told they couldn't be in school photos anymore, their legs trembled up the stairs, holding back tears. Once the door shut, Frisk plopped on their bed, sobbing quietly into their pillow. Silence snuck into their mind in the form of a dreadful ring, and an hour later when the other children climbed into bed, Frisk pretended they were asleep. They'd stopped crying long ago, but dried tears still clung to their cheeks; occasionally gasping as their chest shook from the feeling of absolute alienation. Absolute loneliness. Absolute misery.

Picture day rolled around again and, obviously, Frisk wouldn't study as they were told. They'd try, but it was just so boring in their room they could barely focus. Their eyes nervously flicked between their extra credit and their book, the latter more interesting by far. Peeling their eyes away from their work, they gazed at the inky inscriptions.

"They say those who go to Mt. Ebbot never return. What lies below it's twisted branches and cavernous entrance remains a mystery to all but it's victims."

Frisk blinked, flipping the thick papers and relishing in the soft fwip of the pages turning.Books were always nicer to them than humans were. On the next page, an image of the mountain, towering into the sky. Frisk felt their fingers begin to shake and they quickly shut the book. Swallowing their pounding heartbeat, they turned attentive to the noise of someone knocking on their door. They still felt sick from the image of Mt. Ebbot, now what?

"Frisk, photos are over. You may return to the playground. Your class is waiting."

Ah.

Sicker, sicker, yet sicker...