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Kris wasn’t fond of mornings. Their brother Asriel, comparatively, woke up bright and early, and helped their father with the flowers. Sometimes their brother’s harassment for him to awaken worked, other times it didn’t. A far better bribery was the smell of mother’s pies being freshly baked, seeping into the bedroom with a scheming, quietly opening gap in their bedroom door. Everyone else in the family smiles, so, so, brightly at them, and it kind of gleams, hurts. Like it should feel warm, but sometimes Kris feels unhappy instead, that they are so different. They’ve long taken down old toys that stopped giving them happiness from their half of the room, while Asriel’s trophies are on proud display. Kris finds the glow-in-the-dark stars rather childish, but endearing that Asriel never felt he had to put a front for them. Now that he’s gone away, Kris finds that the other stars remind them of Asriel, too.
They could never really match up to their popular brother; as if being born in a human body wasn’t already a testament to never belonging. Surely, no one would believe in them, other than their almost stupidly optimistic family, so they shouldn’t bother to try make friends. They kept their face down, they didn’t try to even hope someone struck conversation. (But sometimes, Noelle or Monster Kid would say hi. Admittedly, that was nice.) But there was one gift that they had, that made worries about the future feel much smaller. They didn’t need words, they just needed their hands and their eyes, and ears willing to listen. Fingers tickling ivories, gentle melodies filled the hospital. Maybe it was due to being a place of the sick and broken, but it felt like no one judged Kris there. In fact, they were more welcome than anywhere else. More than likely, some of their classmates find it strange and unsettling that they frequently go to the hospital without being sick themselves, like they were a bad omen. But that’s fine. Nothing anybody thinks matters. Kris would play the piano, and pretend their mark on this world was only the music.
Susie didn’t really care for time in general. She knew people hated her, and that was just how it was. School was a chore, but it at least gave her something to pass the hours with. Watching the fearful faces of her classmates was fun. She could move the pinky of her toe and someone would freak out. These were hours that would otherwise be spent on trying to focus on anything but her anger and... more anger. Family could care less if she was eating everything in sight, even things that made her sick. They were too caught up in everything that wasn’t their daughter that was heading nowhere, destroying every relationship that had any chance of forming. Who was she lashing out against? Could she even burn bridges when there were no foundations? As fun as it was terrorizing people with her very existence, it was also nice to just take long walks alone. The sky wasn’t always so gross. This sunset with the pink clouds actually looked pretty okay.
Most people would avoid the cemetery, out of some outdated notions on bad luck or something. She didn’t know anyone who was buried under the dirt here, not really, just acquaintances whose names she would’ve forgotten if not for the visual reminders. But sometimes she looked at the cold rocks and wondered what her own grave would say someday. “Good riddance”, probably. The thought makes her cackle under her breath. Taking out a cigarette, she flicks on the lighter and puffs out smoke into the wind. A bird is perched on the tree, scanning her. Birds didn’t judge you for unhealthy lifestyle choices or your reputation. But Susie was so used to it, she felt like she had to quip at it just so it didn’t feel weird.
“What are you looking at, asshole?” Should she get a trophy for flipping the bird at a bird? She feels like she should. Would’ve been nice if someone was witness to the delicious irony. What was she saying, she came here to be alone. Susie reclines her head, arms outstretched on the bench, watching the smoke dissipate overhead. Nothing. Absolutely nothing had a point. If she could exchange places with one of the corpses underground, everyone would probably be better of. But life was tough like that, it even gives the hell-raiser hell.
Ralsei was familiar with the dark. It didn’t matter what time it was, it was always a bit dim to be reading the prophecies that had been passed down to him. Passed down how exactly? Even Ralsei’s memory was fuzzy in that regard, how he came to be the Prince of Nothing. He really only had his books to keep him long company. That was probably why he had to sit down and get prescription glasses. Maybe now he would finally be free of his headaches. He feels a bit embarrassed about keeping the storekeeper so long, trying on different styles, but if Ralsei was being honest, he knew why he was doing it.
“Oh... I think these will do just fine! Thank you.” But this set, he couldn’t pass them in good conscience and waste more time. He of course, had little way to be sure, but from his own judgment the way they looked with his eyes and shape of face was actually very cute. The shopkeeper rings him up noncommittally, and Ralsei forks over the Dark Dollars; even if he’s using them immediately, he gets to keep a nice little bag for holding them. It would have been nice to actually have people remark how different he looks now, but he had a station to wait in, and some friends to wait for. Ralsei turns up his hood, matching the illustrations. He should practice some more, giving the legend verbatim, raising up their spirits. Sure, he may have gotten very, very lonely, most days; but he had something to look forward to. He had destined friends, Heroes, they’d be. Ralsei’s smile widens, and he hugs the shopping pouch to his chest. He just couldn’t wait.