KNOCK ON WOOD - Refuge Row 2 (Ch.5)

Tents stretched as far as the eye could see, and now they were thoroughly occupied. Monsters walked alone or in groups, usually sticking with others of their kind but occasionally intermingling. The tiny flying ones mostly hovered by the walls, avoiding eye contact, but the braver ones flittered overhead or even sat down on a larger monster’s head to rest. Froggits stared blankly ahead, looking more like statues than living creatures; if not for them licking their eyes every now and then Frisk might have thought they were made of stone.

The roach-like ones behaved oddly; whenever they were near other monsters they scowled and grimaced and looked dangerous, but if they were alone or with each other, and they thought no one was looking, they wore the biggest, goofiest smiles Frisk had ever seen. One of them caught Frisk’s eyes as they passed, and blushed in embarrassment at being caught.

Everyone came in such different colors, with green, purple and orange being the most common, but pink and blue were well-represented as well. Some, rarely, even sported patterns, like spots or stripes, though it was hard to tell if it was natural or painted on.

After passing several tents by, some started to be replaced by market stalls. As Frisk watched, one of the cyclops folded their tent up, and then used it as a tablecloth for their makeshift shop, the sign declaring that he was selling carrots and potatoes, reasonably fresh.

The hallway was crowded and busy and filled with the murmured conversations of the Ruin’s inhabitants as they came together to buy, sell, and mingle. It wasn’t unlike Belome’s souvenir street during the summer.

Next to the vegetable stall, a yellow shine caught their eye, and they bent down to pick a gold coin off the ground. One side had a trident behind a flower, while the other had a muzzled face in profile, with big horns.

The sight of a community coming together in times of trouble fills you with determination.

This… was nice, actually. They were monsters, sure, but they didn’t act like the stories said they would. Maybe the stories had got it wrong all along?

“Hey, kid!” the stall owner shouted. “You gonna buy something or what, you’re holding up the line!”

Frisk jumped, startled, and looked behind them. This section of the market was pretty barren, so they looked back at the monster with confusion.

“Don’t give me that look. The lunch rush is coming. I can feel it in my bones,” he said. The stall owner was a talking rock with googly eyes. He didn’t have any bones.

One of the carrots stood up and cracked open into a jack-o-lantern face. “Buy us, child~. Growing children need to eat their greens~!”

“Whu--hey!” The rock shouted. A broom raised up from under the stall and swatted the vegetable monsters away. It hissed and flipped upside down, skittering on its leaves like an insect. The rock jumped down off its stool with a thud and chased after it, swinging the broom as it went and causing a scene in the market as they bowled over a family of slimes.

Frisk watched them go, blank-faced. Aside from the unfortunate slimes, no one seemed to react much at all. Was that something that happened often?

Shaking their head, Frisk sniffed the air. There were wrappers littering the ground that no one seemed to be putting much effort into cleaning up, and so they pressed on. It wasn’t exactly possible to get lost in a straight tunnel; they’d find the source eventually.

The monsters that noticed them gave them a wide berth, but Frisk could still hear snippets of conversation as they passed.

“...I can’t believe no one’s set up a trash can anywhere yet--”

“--Mom, how long until we can go home--”

One of the the gelatin monsters was attempting to talk to a cyclops.

“W̴̱̳̋̈o̷̞̊͝ḃ̴̹b̷̤̖̐͛ĺ̴̲̐ë̶̡͓́̀ ̷̩̪͒͠w̴͈̯̐͘o̴̾̃͜b̴̠̰̌͘b̷̢́l̵̮͈͂ë̴̦͔́.̸̡̆ ̶̡̛̩̓J̵̠̿̕i̷̡̹̓̌g̷̜͗g̶͙͒̈́l̶̡͖͛è̶͓̺,̵̜̄̓ ̵̖̊e̶̦͛̌v̴͙́ë̶͇͍́n̶͔̝̾.̶̟̔̽”

“Listen, Molder, I don’t speak that. I know you don’t have a mouth, but come on, try harder.”

“I̸'̶m̵ ̷n̵o̵t̷ ̸s̷p̴e̴a̶k̴i̸n̶g̶ ̴a̸ ̷d̷i̵f̶f̴e̸r̶e̸n̶t̴ ̷l̴a̶n̸g̷u̶a̸g̴e̵,̶ ̸I̷ ̶l̴i̸t̵e̶r̶a̴l̷l̶y̵ ̶s̸a̸i̸d̵ ̵t̴h̴e̷ ̴w̶o̴r̴d̷ ̴'̴W̴o̴b̸b̸l̵e̵.̸'̴”

“Well why would you do that?” The slime just wobbled indignantly, not deigning to respond again. It slipped away, upset, and the cyclops locked eye with Frisk. “What are you looking at?”

Frisk averted their gaze, looking to the ground. Lucky, since they came close to stepping on a spider. It chittered angrily, waving its legs.

“Sorry…” Frisk whispered.

The bug made a tiny, squeaking huff sound and ran off. As it went, it collected a few discarded wrappers, dragging them along behind it. Curious, Frisk followed.

As they went, ducking behind the stalls and tents to keep up, more spiders joined the march until they looked more like a line of ants than spiders. Very large ants. Not much like ants at all, actually, since they were all carrying discarded paper and plastic wrappers. Eventually it led them to one tent in particular.

It was nearly as big as Toriel’s, and yet another shade of purple. It had spiderweb designs sewed in--Frisk looked closer, squinting. Those weren’t designs. Those were actual webs--and a crude brick smokestack poked out the back. Frisk frowned at that, because surely the smoke wouldn’t have anywhere to go? But despite the heat coming from the tent, no smoke emerged from the chimney.

Then what was the point of the chimney?

Out in front of the tent was a more fanciful setup than the other shops, with wood tables and--of course--purple tablecloths. Frisk walked around, only just able to peek over the counter, and the smells that assaulted their nose…

Donuts, freshly baked bread, cups of something that smelled like apples, (distressingly purple) muffins, those French crescent bread things Frisk couldn’t remember the name of, donuts again…

Frisk felt their mouth watering and looked around for whoever was manning (monstering?) the bakery, but there was no one there. Off to the side they found a bell that they could reach by standing on their tiptoes, and dinged it twice.

No one showed up right away, the tent’s flap remaining closed. Then something tapped their nose, and their eyes refocuses on the spider hanging by a thread in front of their face.

Frisk gasped, stumbling backwards, falling against one of the giant roaches.

“Hey, watch it, single minder!” it snapped, shoving them back.

Frisk rubbed at their arm where it had shoved them. Faintly, they heard the spider snickering. It waved a thin leg at them and then swung itself down to the table. It crawled under the counter, and then returned with a menu several times its size.

Spider Bake Sale: All proceeds go to real spiders.

Frisk’s stomach growled again, and the spider made an interested sound, rubbing its front legs together.

The cheapest thing on the menu was a spider donut, listed as 7G.

G. What was G? Money, obviously, but--oh wait. Frisk pulled out the gold coin they found earlier and inspected it. On the ‘heads’ side, in the lower left was the letter ‘G.’ That was simple enough.

…They only had the one G, though. Frisk flashed the coin with a sheepish smile, and the spider stared blankly at them.

“I don’t…” Frisk began, but their voice failed them.

You told the spider that you didn’t have any money.

The spider seemed to understand anyway, and after some inaudible muttering it crawled under the counter again. Frisk stretched to see over the table, and so they saw it make its way to the tent and stop another spider as it was about to enter. The two bugs had a short conversation, and then the first returned and gestured for them to give back the menu.

Disheartened, Frisk set it down and turned to leave, but the spider chirped at them to stop. It wrote something down on a black spot of the menu, and then pushed it back.

It was… really tiny letters. Really tiny. Try as they might, Frisk couldn’t make out the individual letters…

The clink of glass made them look up in time to see the spider drop a fancy magnifying glass on the table. Frisk took it. The glass had a pretty good heft to it. How strong are these bugs?

The spider’s message says that if you bring them some litter, they’ll give you a Gold for every three pieces of trash.

Why did they want the trash? That was weird. But if that was what they wanted. Let’s see… uh, I have one Gold, I need six more, one G for every three… I need to pick up eighteen wrappers.

Sidequest: Litterbugs - 0/18 Trash

That was simple enough, and quickly accomplished. It did require them to go a bit far afield, though, since the spiders had picked the immediate area clean. Still, it wasn’t difficult, and within twenty minutes Frisk returned to the bake sale with two fistfulls of plastic and paper.

They started to set it on the counter, but the spider chirruped a denial, pointing them towards the back.

Right. They probably didn’t want trash next to the food. Frisk smiled sheepishly and went around.

A much larger spider, the size of their hand and wearing an appropriately-sized chef’s hat, emerged from the tent to take their litter. It counted them up slowly before nodding and handing them their hard-earned gold. Then, it seemed to think better of it and took the gold back, handing them a fresh donut instead.

Understanding, Frisk handed it their one coin, but it waved it away.

It clicked its mandibles together, then said, “Growing ch̴i̷l̷d̶r̴e̶n̸ need their n̷u̷t̶r̶i̸tion.”

Frisk took the donut with a small smile. “Thank you.”

The chef spider huffed and went back inside, leaving Frisk to their breakfast. Actually, more like their lunch, according to the Pip-boy.

There wasn’t room in the hall for a proper dining area, but someone had nonetheless set up a series of benches across from the spider bakery. Several other monsters were eating their purchases, but Frisk was able to find an empty seat to enjoy the donut.

Litterbugs - Quest cleared!

It had a curious flavor, not something Frisk could recognize. The wrapper said that it was made with spider cider, which had smelled like apples earlier, and there definitely an apple-y flavor there. But under the sweetness, there was a weird, kind of vaguely meaty flavor. Like chicken, but off. Lots of crunchy bits too.

“I don’t know, Peeps, I just don’t get it.”

Frisk turned their head slightly. The next bench over had a pair of the cyclops monsters talking. For lack of anything better to do, Frisk decided to tune in.

“What’s not to get? It’s a song about tragic love!”

“But I don’t get the tragedy, is the thing. Why does she have to give up the relationship? If they love each other so much--”

“It’s not a story song, Visu, the reason isn’t important. It’s about the vibe.”

“The vibe?” Those giant eyes were very expressive, Frisk thought. If Visu rolled her eye any harder, it might have rolled right out of her head.

“The vibe!” Peeps affirmed. “It’s a song for vibing to! The lyrics are just--look, did you hear Mettaton’s last song, Mirror Love?”

“...Okay, yeah, I see where you’re going with that. But I didn’t like that for its lyrics either. I’ll forgive anything if the music’s good.”

“Yeah, well.” Peeps shifted. “It’s not my fault my house got destroyed before I could record the music.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“...Your home is still fine, right?”

“Last I heard.”

“Do you think I could use your computer for my song? When the tremors stop, that is.”

“...Eh, sure. Us Loox gotta stick together, I guess.”

The conversation wound down from there, so Frisk let their attention wander again.

As they finished off their lunch, a roach monster came over carrying a placard. At the spiders’ direction, it set the sign up in front of the bake sale and walked off.

Frisk read the sign.

All products made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders!

Frisk froze with the last piece of the donut halfway into their mouth. They sat like that for what felt like several minutes, before popping it in and chewing. It crunched.

Swallowing roughly, Frisk stood up, hunger sated for now (forever) and continued exploring.

The market soon gave way to regular tents once more, and the crowds cleared away as they began to approach the end of the hall at long last. Idly noting the white pillar that didn’t seem to have a purpose, Frisk started thinking about what to do next. They could just… keep going. Keep exploring the Ruins. The hall of tents was interesting, but they’d already seen pretty much everything there…

On the other hand, where exactly would they even be going? What’s the point of exploring if there’s nowhere to go?

Frisk leaned against the pillar as they looked back the way they’d come. Maybe they could try talking to the monsters. It was a little intimidating, but… they’d overheard some pretty interesting conversations, and if they really weren’t going to hurt them… well, Frisk was always up for making new friends.

While they were thinking, they played with their Pip-boy a little, trying to see if there were any features they’d missed before. It was slowly building a map of the area, and had helpfully labeled the spider bake sale for them so they could find it again--as if that would ever be a challenge--though a warning in the corner of the screen said that there was something interfering with its range. Probably just being underground…

I wonder if monsters have radio? Frisk thought to themselves, flipping to the appropriate setting. A few of the frequencies supplied them with garbled sounds that might have been music, and one BLARPED at them loud enough to turn head several tents away before they shut it off.

You fiddled with the radio, but nothing happened.

Oh well. It was worth trying. According to the inventory screen, they had plenty of granola bars and water still in the bag. They wondered if maybe they could trade the rations for some Gold… Maybe it would taste better to a monster? Or maybe they could sell it as ‘exotic human food,’ hmm…

“Psst!”

Frisk looked up at the sound. They couldn’t see anyone nearby. The closest monster was a Loox four tents down, sitting outside their yurt and smoking a foul-smelling cigar. Smoke wafted out of the tips of his horns, causing Frisk to wonder about how his anatomy works.

“Psst! Around here!”

Frisk felt something poke their foot and looked down. A vine tapped their boot and then slithered away, withdrawing behind the pillar. Curious, Frisk followed it.

In the space between the pillar and the wall, a familiar yellow flower smiled at them.

“Howdy!” he said cheerfully. “Sorry about earlier!” He beamed, endeavoring to look pleased and bashful at the same time. “You caught me off guard and, well, I just completely forgot how to talk, I was so surprised!”

Frisk shrugged.

“...” The flower waited for a response of some kind, his smile became a little strained when it didn’t come. Frisk was just beginning to think that they should apologize when he decided to speak again. “Anyway, I’m Flowey! Flowey the Flower!” He bobbed back and forth. “Usually I hang out in the room where you fell so I can help any humans who fall down here. Welcome to the Underground!” He winked and stuck his tongue out.

Frisk didn’t outwardly react.

“E-Eh heh. Erm. You don’t talk much, do you?”

“...S’ry,” they managed. They gripped their stick tightly.

Flowey gave them a curious look, but pressed on regardless. “So you can talk! Okay!” He paused, considering for a moment, then said, “So, since I gave you my name, now’s usually the time you give me yours.”

They nodded. “F… F-Fr…” Why were they having so much trouble speaking? Ever since the b--ever since they fell down they’d had trouble getting words out. Why? “F-F-F--”

“Okay, it starts with ‘F,’” Flowey guessed, beginning to sound frustrated. “Can we try for the rest of the letters now?”

Frisk let out a grunt of annoyance at themselves and gave up. Instead of speaking, they brought up their Pip-boy and pointed the screen at Flowey. The flower blinked, staring at it with undisguised fascination. “Oh, what’s this thing?” Frisk tapped their name displayed under their silhouette. “...Frisk, huh? Weird name,” he said bluntly. Then he brightened “But then, I’m one to talk! Haha!”

“Haha.”

“So--” Flowey began, only to stop when the ground shook. Frisk could hear worried gasps and cries from back in the town, echoing down the hall, and then a massive, deep crack rang out in the distance. Seconds later, something hit the ground hard. Hard enough that dust poured down from the ceiling and Frisk had to brace themselves against the pillar to stay upright.

Frightened whispering drifted over as the tremors faded, and Flowy sighed. “Uh oh, that sounded like another collapse.”

Frisk tilted their head.

“Oh, a few weeks ago there was a huge cave-in where tunnels from up above fell down into the Underground!” Flowey explained a little too happily. “That was bad enough, but then a couple days ago there was a great big earthquake!” He made a sound with his mouth that Frisk guessed was supposed to sound like an explosion. “And things have been… unstable since then. I thought they were getting better, but…” He shrugged, an impressive feat for limbless plant.

Frisk frowned. They peeked around the pillar back at the row of tents. Earthquake, huh?

Apparently sensing their thoughts, Flowey dove into the floor and then popped back up next to them. “Yep yep yep! That’s right! The Ruins have gotten hit probably the worst! It’s not safe in the main city anymore, so everyone’s gathered in here since it’s the only room in the Ruins big enough.”

“Ev’ry…?”

“Well, almost everyone. You know, there’s some stubborn people who won’t move until they don’t have a choice,” Flowey said sadly. “And there’s a few who decided they didn’t like the crowds and moved into different rooms. It’s all so stup--I mean, er… ill-advised.”

Frisk looked at him, confused.

“Well!” Flowey drew himself up, stem extending until he was almost as tall as Frisk. “If you ask me, the smart thing to do would be to move everyone elsewhere! The capital is far away, but it’s got plenty of room and it was the least damaged by the quakes! Not to mention it’s right by the barrier…”

Frisk nodded slowly. They could understand that. It made sense.

Flowey waited, looking at them expectantly. “Yes, being by the barrier is really important, since the barrier is the only way out of the Underground.” He paused again.

Frisk grimaced. “Mm. I…”

“Yeah, everything would be fine if Toriel would just let monsters leave the Ruins,” Flowey said. Then, an idea visibly occurred to him, and Frisk took a moment to marvel at just how expressive he was. He was like a cartoon character, the way his face moved. “Hey, you’re human!”

They stared at him, confused. “Y-Yes?”

“I mean, you probably want to get back to the surface, right?” Flowey asked. “If you want, I can help you get there, but it’ll need to be sneaky since Toriel--”

“No.” Frisk shook their head fervently. “No.”

A grimace crossed the flower’s face so fast Frisk almost thought they imagined it, before shifting to surprise. “No? Why not? Don’t you want to go home?”

They flinched. “Can’t.” They shook their head again, harder. “It-It’s bad. Up there.”

Looking skeptical, Flowey leaned closer. “Bad? Bad how?

“Bad.”

Flowey rolled his eyes. “Hmph. It can’t be worse than it is down here…”

Frisk knocked on their stick reflexively.

The action drew a confused look from the flower. “Why did--”

“Hey, kid!”

Frisk twisted to see a large Loox peeking around the pillar at them. His orb-shaped body was large enough that he couldn’t fit between it and the wall. “You are a kid, right?”

They nodded, looking down at themselves. Was it not obvious?

“You need to come with me. It’s not safe to be alone right now, with the tremor and all.”

Alone? They weren’t alone, they were with--Oh. Flowey had vanished. There wasn’t even a crack in the floor to show where he had been. Turning back to the Loox, they stepped out from behind the column and let him guide them back into town.