Artsy

:)

I was going to put this in a different book, but I wanted your opinion.
Since you guys already know from past chapters about the whole 'Megan and Kate' storyline, It'll be easier for me to just copy and paste it here.

Listen to Painting Greys by Emmit Fenn while reading for the best possible experience.

This takes place in the pacifist route.

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It was moments like these that hurt the most.

Where they died so often they'd need to load save point after save point after save point just to get another try, and where their patience began wearing thin.

Where resentment from the past bubbled over.

They knew they had done wrong. They had killed everyone, they were a murderer, potentially a past psychopath, someone who deserved all of this pain, and who didn't-

Their thoughts broke off from a sob.

Green sweater long abandoned back at the hotel, choked screams and lonely sobs and cries were echoing out in waterfall- though most of the impact drowned, by the sound of lulling music and water.

Their heart hurt.
It ached.

It ached for something that it would never get again.

They curled tighter around herself, hoping that if they hid away from the world for long enough they may just disappear. /It/ may just disappear.

Their heart ached to be cared about.
Or to be erased.

Ugly hiccups ripped up from the child.

/They deserved this. They deserved this. They deserved this./

Their mantra was lost when another sob broke loose.

They deserved it but they didn't /want/ it.

They knew the fake smiles from the real ones, they recognized the distancing friends, they recognized the ache, the urge, to /want/ to make them hurt just as they were. But they'd just be making it worse.

Their arms were cold and their eyes were sore. They realized, with slight surprise, that they missed sleep- despite all of the nightmares it brought with it.

God fucking /dammit/.

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, and they were /helpless/. Unable to do a single thing as everyone slowly inches away from the girl who was turning into a ticking time bomb!!

Their head lifted off of their knees when a whispering flower caught their attention. It looked like it had grown up against the wall- fragile and weak, crowding by few others.
It whispered of a tragedy- a child of determination who ultimately died in vain.

Suddenly, the crying child felt upset.

And not in the sense that they wanted to cry their heart out until it stopped its glow and ceased to fight, though that ache still resided, it was an upset that made their stomach twist and their mind spin.

One that, before their realized what they were doing, had them ripping up the tiny flower- pulling the stems from the roots in a soft, almost inaudible rip.

Sullenly, as the child looked around the room at so many of the other flowers, they thought that they would one day like to die like the wilted blue flower had; silently and unnoticed by the world- forgotten along with their deeds.

A vicious and unfamiliar mirth suddenly unfolded, and with an entertaining smile, Megan wondered what would happen if the rest of the flowers were ripped up for what they mean.

Their heart ached.

But it ached for something else.

It ached for their love, so when it hadn't been given, it craved for the LOVE they deducted that they so desperately deserved.

But if they couldn't destroy the people again, why not destroy what little memories they had left?

It seemed fair. After all- if the Underground were to get off free with taking away their peace and morals, then shouldn't it be fair that they at least attempt to return the favour?

___

The pacifist route /after/ the genocide that is. Why is it that I never write any scenes when they were happy?
Hm.

There's a song reference in their to a parody I wrote and didn't publish.
Now that I think about it, should I post the songs I make on here?

Oh! And if you guys want this to be a comic thing (I write something and then give you an optional comic for it) then let me know!

So yeah.