Chapter Text
I found him in the snow.
I was tending to my traps when I heard someone gasp far in the distance. I may not be able to see well, but my brother always said I had phenomenal hearing. It was how I could always tell when he had more food stuffed into his pockets from his time at Grillby’s.
Nonetheless, the new stranger looked distressed when I found him. Distressed, even perhaps terrified, but most importantly, he looked hungry. Hungry for comfort, hungry for warmth, hungry for food, for he was a shaking, shivering, pitiful thing.
You must understand, I couldn’t just let that slide! I would know myself to be none other than a disgusting clam, leaving him out in the cold like that! After all, no royal hunter would leave someone for dead, now would they?
He was quite hesitant when I approached him with my offer, an offer to bring him to my home for shelter, but eventually he decided it was for the best. When I picked him up from the ground, carrying him like a groom would his bride, he tried to get away. What a sad sight, it was! He had grown to be so paranoid that he began to assume that anything could hurt him, even a good friend such as myself! I assured him, without loosening my grip, mind you, that I would keep him safe for as long as he lived. I felt him stiffen, due to the cold of course.
Once we arrived at my home, I set him down onto the sofa. He still seemed very tense, even after I reassured him that he would be taken care of, so I elected to fix him a meal. I wanted to impress my new friend, of course, so I even set out to get some fresh meat! I knew it would be delicious, as the texture of rabbit meat has always been my favorite.
When I returned from my errand, however, my guest was nowhere to be found! After I set down and cleaned the large carcass that I had slung over my shoulder, I sought out to look for him. It fortunately took very little time, as he had merely been hiding in my own bedroom closet, like a child. I neglected to see any stripes on his outfit, though I did finally notice how similar it looked to my own. This was when I realized that neither of us had introduced ourselves.
He said his name was Papyrus, which was strange. I had thought that was a title unique to myself, and yet here was another. I was at least two feet taller than he, and his clothes were cleaner, his eyes smaller. While my eyelights were a pale blue, his were far more saturated and pronounced. The biggest difference I noticed, however, was his lack of fangs. How was he supposed to dispense venom with nothing for it to come out of? Had he filed them down?
In short, it was as if I had met my own small, ugly, defenseless clone.
When I informed him of this, albeit with much kinder words, he looked simply astonished. It was short-lived, though, because I picked him back up soon after, to which he protested greatly. I told him to stay on the sofa until his food was ready, and though he looked like he wanted to run, he thankfully stayed in place.
As I got back to working on my culinary masterpiece, I waved away the few flies that had begun circling the monster’s corpse, and dug out my trusty meat cleaver and began to hack away until there were several sections to choose from.
Finding a way to mix meat with spaghetti noodles had always proved to be a difficult task, and it never failed to give the pasta a dull greyish-red color, but I’ve never failed at it before! A meal such as this was a sure way to get plenty of protein and carbohydrates into a monster, so the discoloration was absolutely worth it in the end.
The sauce was perfect. It had just the right amount of that metallic smell and taste, and mixed with the half-rotten tomato, I could hardly stop myself from drinking it straight from the pan! I added some of my own venom extract into it as well, if only to keep my clone-friend from trying so hard to escape the safety of my home and run directly into some hellbeast’s claws.
The process of extracting my venom has always been bothersome, having to pinch my fang until it finally leaks into the jar, but it beat having to bite my prey and hold it down while it squirms and fights. How unsanitary and annoying!
Anyhow, the finished plate of pasta looked almost as if it were made by a gourmet chef! When I served it to my guest, however, he seemed to have opposing thoughts. He eyed it with great suspicion, and though I didn’t mention it, I couldn’t help but to take slight offense.
After some encouragement, he took a bite.
Oh, how he seemed to enjoy it! He scarfed it down as if it had been weeks since his last meal! I could feel my chest swell with pride as he shoveled forkful after forkful into his mouth. Once he was finished, he thanked me greatly, and even asked if he could have another plate! I couldn’t possibly say how flattering it was to have someone enjoy my cooking as much as he, but of course he would, regarding his resemblance to me! ...Despite his ugliness, which I couldn’t quite look past. It had me thinking, perhaps, in time, he would grow to embrace his beastliness just as everyone else had so long ago.
I thought of this as I prepared his second plate. What would he look like? Would he adapt similarly to me, or would he be unique in his own way? Only time would tell, I supposed. Time that I and so many others had to spare.
When I returned with his next plate, though, I noticed that something was off. My guest looked… alarmed. Almost scared, yet again. My feelings were almost hurt. Hadn’t I finally gained his trust?
It wasn’t until I got closer that I realized he was holding something tight in his hand. When I prompted him to show me, he was very reluctant. Closer now, I decided to simply take a firm hold on his hand and open it myself.
It was a small clump of rabbit fur.
It was stained red, and considering the way it glistened, I wouldn’t have been surprised if my friend had said he had taken it out of his mouth. I was slightly disappointed; I usually went to very careful measures to make sure my food was completely sanitary, but I must have been in far too much of a rush to impress him that I grew hasty.
I apologized profusely, and insisted that the next plate was entirely uncontaminated, but he refused to even look at it. He seemed to be getting more and more stressed, and no matter how close I got to him and insisted he try it, he simply froze like a deer about to be hunted.
And then he spoke.
He had asked what was in the spaghetti.
He had asked to see the ingredients.
He looked slightly sick, and I thought perhaps he had an allergy that I wasn’t aware of. Instead of taking him into the kitchen like he wanted, I insisted he went straight to bed. He hated the suggestion, of course, but I was never one for taking no for an answer. I knew the venom would be kicking in shortly, anyway.
What I didn’t know, however, was that he was finally willing to put up a fight when I picked him up again. He punched, kicked, clawed (which was utterly useless due to his gloves), and even spat at me. I was appalled! How could someone such as myself even dare to be so rude? Especially as a guest?
I suppose he wound up achieving his goal, though, as I let him go shortly after he spat at me. While I was taking time to recover from something so vile, he took the risk of running to the door. The venom was finally taking effect, I noticed, as he seemed dizzy and nearly ran into the doorframe as he struggled to turn the knob
Luckily for me, I had locked it earlier.
He realized this, his panic increasing as he desperately tried to turn it, to no avail. I simply stood there as his movements gradually stiffened, and waited for him to hit the floor.
When he did, I finally picked him back up, and carried him to my bedroom. I never used my own mattress, I had better things to do with my time.
My new friend, however, needed to rest.