Blood and Bones (OsteoTale Book 2)

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(Y/N)- Your name
(L/N)- Last name
(F/C)- Favourite color
(F/O)- Favourite outfit
(E/C)- Eye color
(H/C)- Hair color
(Sk/C)- Skin color
(H/L)- Hair length

(Blue) -Justin -Integrity
(Orange) -Spencer -Bravery
(Yellow) -Mason -Justice
(Purple) -Claire -Perserverence
(L-blue) -Megan -Patience
(Red) -Frisk -Determination

(Rainbow) -You -Creativity
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Your P.O.V~

     You are walking through the silence of the forest. No birds, no bugs, no noise. Just one foot in front of the other, passing what feels like the same tree over and over. It's almost like nature knows not to break your focus. One misstep and you may not be able to get up again.

Crunch

Footstep after footstep.

Crunch

Have you passed that tree already?

Crunch

Is that a house ahead?

Crunch

It is!

Crunch

Crunch

Crunch
Crunch
Crunch
Crunch

You break into a sprint, a sudden burst of energy seeping through your bones. Home! It's right there! Sans, Papy, Undyne, Alphys, Mettaton, Toriel, Asgore, Monster Kid, Flowey...

And best of all?

No Daniel.

Your feet hit sidewalk, and exhaustion hits you once again. You stumble, and almost grab a nice taste of concrete. Last second you catch yourself, and keep stumbling along.

What do you look like?

You must look pretty strange, because you are posative you saw curtains open across the street. You assume you are covered in bruises, cuts, and scars. That paired with the hospital gown? A strange sight indeed.

Is this your street? You hope so. Homemade spaghetti sounds pretty dang good right now. And B-scotch cinnamon pie for dessert! Then you would want to snuggle up with Sans tonight, in an actual bed.

It's been a long few months overall, really.

You and Sans got pummeled in an anti-monster protest.

You revealed your magic to a whole street of people.

You got kidnapped, sent to an underground lab, and almost tortured for information.

Now you are stumbling home, after escaping from said lab.

Ya. Quite an eventful time in your life.

Wait a minute.

You are pulled from your thoughts at the sight of a familiar mailbox.

You're home! Finally, after two weeks of torture... YOU. ARE. HOME.

You pick up speed, stumbling into the driveway. Almost falling on the porch, you raise a hand to the door.

You make a fist.

You hit the door.

Again.

Again.

The door opens, but you don't care who is on the other side of it.

You finally stop resisting the darkness, and let your exhaustion consume you.