Loyalty's Lullaby (A Crossmare Fanfiction)

Silenced

Poor Chara. He's a ded boi.

...

oR iS hE—? dUN DUN DUUUUUUN!!

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Everything seemed to be blaring with a static noise so loud it was silent to the human and monster  ear. A light buzzing hummed at the very top of all things around Cross, animate or inanimate. It filled the entire room, packed and feeling so solid he swore he could cut it with a knife if he tried. It was suffocating, really. The smol's head spun in merciless circles that left him dizzy and confused, and as the cherry on top, gave an aching headache. His soul foolhardily ramming into his ribs didn't really help, either. Things in his vision became blurry, any thing he looked at having a soft fizzle at the edge. The corners of his glazed gaze were only blobs of unnamed shapes and random splotches of color.

Even though he had barely known the little white-haired boy, he was still a life. Now probably lost forever. Oh, how the oreo hated death. He's not going to deny the few murders he'd caused with those splendid kitchen knives the adults were stupid enough to put anywhere within his reach as a child, on innocent peasants. But that was when he was young and immature, and didn't understand the value of life. 

Right now, you'd think he'd be coursing with adrenaline by now, or perhaps hot, pumping blood. But he just felt cold. So cold. So, very cold as he couldn't do anything but watch helplessly as the little, seemingly harmless, round bullet went whizzing through the air, headed right for the small cashier. It seemed slow, but he knew, in reality, it was too fast for even ol' Tenya to stop, much less himself. 

Then it hit, along with the other bullets in the wall of projectiles aiming toward the entirety of the shop's interior. Cross' vision instantly cleared as the sound of little explosions behind them, so close as well, and a shrill shriek of agony ripped through the thick air and shocked him back to his senses. 

By the time his mismatched, trembling eyes had reached the source of the scream, the little boy was already crumpled on the floor in a crouch, his skin somehow even paler than the snow white from before, to a light grey. His eyes were wider than the healthy width, his eyeballs puffy with a tint of purple and bulging out, so the you could see the black eye whites all around. Violet tears could be caught glistening on the edges and corners of the young make's eyes, his thin lips spread apart, mouth gaping. 

He let out strangled screeches and whimpers, seeming to have a spasm on the ground, his smol body writhing in pain as the tiny bullet inside of him exploded and spread out, destroying his vital organs from the inside out, and making his cells collapse within themselves. His milky curls matted with sweat over his face messily, covering places they usually do not. The youth gurgled up sick, violet blood bubbling out of his panting mouth and spilling all over the floor, clumps of unidentifiable things I'd rather not identify heaving up in bumps, splatted arbitrarily around the pool of dark lavender forming below the pained child. 

Cross himself almost wretched just watching the scene unfold. He wanted so desperately to look away from the horrid mess, but found himself unable to do so, not wishing to miss a single nanosecond, just in case the other dies, with know even caring enough to take a peek at his burning, crippled figure slowly going limp on the ground.

The boy's soul got forcefully ripped out of his chest, a blood-curdling scream erupting from him, slicing away at his throat. But he couldn't care less about that. The cracked and spiderwebbed crimson soul hovered a distance above his disfigured form, glowing ever so dully as bits started to break off, flying up before fading to dust. The red sheen made it obvious it was determination, a trait quite rare.

The dying, heart shaped soul fizzed violently once. Twice. And a third time, stretching out in red strings before there was most likely the kid's last shriek, so loud it shook the ground beneath them and caused their 'ears' to nearly bleed, the soul ripping itself apart into a billion minuscule pieces, before shooting outward in every direction, landing with a squelch on walls, furniture, food, goods, tables, doors, and everything else in the room. The red determination substance then sank into it, dissolving and disappearing forever. And so the child was eternally silenced.

Specks of the bits of the determination soul landed on Cross, a small amount on his cheek, one on his arm, two on a specific leg, abdomen, and right chest. For a moment, his own soul stung, as if he was hurting just from watching it.

Immediately after, the guards, unfazed or disturbed, began to open fire for a second round. A less shook Nightmare besides him yanked him down so that his upper body was also protected by the ancient counter, and putting an abrupt end to his glorious, relaxing sight seeing. They barely dodged the oncoming wave of bullets, a few actually shooting through the counter and flying right past them, too close to impaling them for any type of comfort. The octopus' tentacle lashed out to the guards by stretching around the counter, stabbing a few right through the chest. One of them came back with its tip sliced off and bleeding, Nightmare barely even glancing at it.

The tol looked at the base of Cross' limbs frantically, as if searching for something. His brows furrowed in concentration, and he was beginning to breathe heavily from the pressure that if he didn't find it soon, they could all die right there and then.

"Where the fucc is that magic restraint?!" he hissed, with urgency tracing his voice rather thickly. 

The smol only shook his head, looking up at the other in dismay, "They didn't put any magic restraints. They had me drink this liquid instead."

Nightmare froze, seeming at a loss, before visually perking up, a grin creeping up the corners of his mouth, "So, what you're saying is, I'll have to get you to puke, and you'll be able to use magic? I swear, God is too kind to me."

The bean's eyes widened, going to stutter a protest, but never getting the chance to as one of Nightmare's tentacles whacked him on the back, where his ribs were, and caused him to coughed rather hardly. The appendage slammed into his stomach without sign of holding back just because he was an ally, the wanted reaction almost immediate. 

Cross jerked, and his non-existent stomach clenched, pulling together, before he felt a burning, acidic mush travel up the back of his throat torturously slow, until it reached hus mouth and he jerked once more, a multicolored vomit spilling out of him. It tasted bitter and sour on his tongue. The gooptopus smiled broadly, with a prideful air, at the sight, snickering to himself at the distressed smaller.

"Right, then. Lets forget about the happy little accident called a 'death', and kick some butt."

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Short, but posted right away.

>;3 you better be proud.

Y'know, every time a word like 'death' or 'dust' or something like that, and it's used negatively, I get so offended on behalf of the Sans.

C

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—Grace