Prelude of the True Pacifist
You wake up with a pounding head. At first, you can’t really see as your eyes adjust to the darkness, thinned only by the faintest crack of light so very far above you.
So much yellow that you can’t make out your surroundings until you will yourself to sit up. It feels likes there’s a ton of bricks on your chest, but you manage to pull yourself together as you rub the back of your head. However, you immediately regret it, as you flinched away from the pain.
Where were you last? Hiking, right? You had just moved to the area recently and heard about Mt. Ebott. Everyone acted like it was cursed or something, but it looked like a perfectly good mountain to you. You had started going on walks. Except, this time you went off-trail and took a pretty bad tumble. So, the current question at hand is… where are you now?
You look around, trying not to turn your head too quickly: you still feel a bit woozy. That precaution doesn’t last long though, once you hear a sharp gasp behind you. You swivel where you sit to see an animal about ten feet away. Except this animal is a goat… and it’s standing on two legs… and it’s wearing a dress.
“Oh, my! Are you okay, dear?!”
And... apparently can talk.
You can’t answer. Not only because you’re astonished, but also because all you hear next is water rushing in your ears, and suddenly darkness is pulling at your peripherals. You feel like you’re falling all over again.
You can hear some voice, different than the goat woman’s. It sounds angry. It’s cursing your presence. It says you shouldn’t be here. It says, since you refuse to kill, you will be killed. And it will be the one to do it. You can feel your fear crawling on your back. You don’t like this voice.
You wake again to someone pulling at you. But this voice is gentle. It reminds you of your grandmother. You try to sit up for them like they ask but, ultimately, they do most of the work. It doesn't seem to be difficult for them though. They start saying something about you being “bigger than normally expected” and that the flowers must not have fully broken your fall. Whatever that means. As you’re pulled to your feet you look down and finally notice the flowers. Something about them gives you an eerie vibe, but you can’t quite place it. You quickly forget about it as you become distracted by your hand. The one you had touched to your head is covered in blood. You move to touch the back of your head again before your hand is held back by someone.
“Don’t touch that, dear. We need to get you fixed up right away.”
You blearily look up at this kind voice, and…yep. Still a goat. A rational part of you thinks you should gasp or make some sort of struggle against her - her being a sentient animal and all - but you just feel so confused. And her presence is… oddly comforting. You can’t think of anything else to do but follow her lead as she helps you hobble through some strange rooms. She seems to walk in zigzags that make no directional sense, but you can’t really argue in your state. At least you are getting through them quickly. She comforts you the whole way, and encourages you to keep going. Her warm words fill you with determination, and, despite the heaviness in your legs, you push on.
Along the way, you start to piece together your surroundings with the brief instructions she rambles through. Her name is Toriel. And, apparently you are… underground? And she calls this place the “Ruins”. Eventually, you both make it to a little house that doesn’t look like it belongs underground… and it doesn’t look ruined. This just adds to your confusion.
Toriel drags you into the house, and with an amazing display of strength, easily hauls you down the hall. She brings you into a bedroom with a twin sized bed. It seems to have belonged to a child, but once you lie down, complaining about the size doesn’t even cross your mind. Altogether, the place is nice: much better than that ominous, damp flower patch you were lying in minutes ago.
She disappears out the door and reappears swiftly with a bucket of water and bandages. She asks you to turn over on your side as she touches a damp cloth to the back of your head. It stings like hell, but she apologizes so earnestly each time you hiss in pain that you can’t find it in yourself to be too upset. Once she finishes, you roll back over and watch as she gathers all her supplies to be put away. She says she will be back with something to eat and drink and asks you not to fall asleep. Then she wonders if you prefer the taste of cinnamon or butterscotch. It all feels surreal to you. A goat woman asking what your flavor preferences are. It takes you a moment to answer. She seems pleased when you assure her that you find both delicious. Before she leaves again you swallow and make a hesitant sound that causes her pause.
“What is it, my dear?” the care in her tone radiates throughout the little room.
You don’t know why, but you like that endearing title and the calm rumble of her voice.
“I.. uh.. thank you... Toriel,” you manage, feeling how rough your own voice is.
“Please, do not worry about it. Try to rest, but, again, do not fall asleep.” She almost steps out into the lit hall, but you stop her once more.
“Um.. but.. you--" You aren’t sure how to ask politely, but you need to know. So, you just go for it. “You… what are you? And… where am I?”
Toriel gives you a weak, almost apologetic smile. You don’t like that look on her. She shouldn’t be apologizing to you. After everything she just did for you...?
She shuffles in the doorway for a moment before looking you in the eye and answering.
“I am a monster, dear. And you’re in the Underground.”
You don’t know how to respond to this revelation, so you numbly nod. She only nods back solemnly before she pulls away and softly closes the door behind her.
Frankly, you’re hurting too much right now to overthink this:
She is a monster.
And you're in the Underground.