LCNWRIWE- The Vahn side Options

[Frisk]

DAY 1- IN WHICH OUR ODD PROTAGONIST INTRODUCES US TO AN EVEN ODDER WORLD

He was his own world; a singularity and an anomaly. He had once had a name, but it was lost to him now. The only sounds he was familiar with were the tips and taps of his shoes on the world, the crunches of food giving way in his mouth. There were days, weeks, where he could barely move, struggling in bleak despair to remember the life he had come from. Worse yet were the gaps in his memory where he acted without thought; simply moving from place to place, hunting for food and shelter like a wild animal.
Today the boy was conscious of himself and his surroundings. For several hours he had been climbing up a steep slope, following a highway towards what he hoped was a town. The road was set on the left by an empty field; it was covered in orange dirt, and nothing else. To the right of the road was a large hill that followed it up. Curiosity pulled him to both of these landmarks, but a more pressing hunger, as well as an urge to find somewhere to sleep before night fell kept him following the road.
After an hour or so of walking, the road took on the form of a regular city street, beset by houses on both sides. Out of a strange respect the boy couldn’t quite explain, he never searched for supplies in houses if he could help it. Living off of someone else’s residence was a taboo he refused to break, except in the most extreme emergencies. Houses always meant stores, and stores meant food and drink. Sure enough, it didn’t take much more travel to see a brightly illuminated grocery store. He casually strode in, taking a look around. The absurdity of living in a world that kept itself maintained and stocked, with no humans to consume in it had long since passed out of the boy’s mind. He found a supply of soft drinks in a cooler, and popped the tab on one and began to drink. He sat down in a random aisle and scoped out the rest of the store.
It was your run-of-the-mill market, with about eight aisles. Along the back walls were fridges set up to keep meats and dairy products chilled. He made that his destination, grabbing a loaf of bread on his way. His lunch and dinner were a few cold sandwiches. After eating his fill, it was time to set up a place to rest. He began to search through his belongings, sifting through the various camping items he had acquired and stuffed into his oversized travel pack over the years. He worked wordlessly, setting up a sleeping bag. Years of disinterest had made him accustomed to sleeping on a hard floor.
After preparing his makeshift bed, he decided it was still a little early to sleep. He decided to explore the town a little. Leaving the store behind, he returned to the main road and followed it further, into what seemed to be the shopping district of the town. Everywhere he looked was another building, and the majority of them were small, with no sign of ever being inhabited at all. Some were boarded up and falling apart, and a very few were unlocked and illuminated. Nothing interesting ever seemed to come out of them. One was lined with chairs that seemed able to rise and lower, and they were placed in a row beside a massive mirror that covered an entire wall of the building. There was a shelf below the mirror, filled with various creams and cutting devices.

An amber glow, so intense it was almost like a fog, always existed in his memories. It was like the world he had come from had been made up of this light, a light he had lost when he had stumbled into this deserted world. When he closed his eyes, he could see it, softly radiating like the warmth from the sun. It was there now, softly touching the walls, ceiling, and floor of the building. Gradually each corner took on a distinct shape, until it resembled the store the boy had been in.
His footsteps were shaky, but he wasn’t worried. His hand fit perfectly in another’s, and that person supported him and held him up. It was a parent. Their hand pulled him along at a steady pace, keeping him on track. In that sense, he could feel a father-like air. But… There was a love and kindness in the soft way they gripped him, making sure he had a support to lean on. He couldn’t remember. Something as little as this, whether his mom or dad had taken him out, and he couldn’t remember.

Who had he been? Had something happened, and what? He couldn’t remember. Vaguely, he could look back at when he had first wandered into this cursed world. He had tried so hard to hold onto who he was, but time had etched away every sharp and blunt detail of his past. Only every now and then did he see glimpses of who he was, and they came so rarely that he couldn’t be sure they were even real. But they were here, now, and they would spill out, flooding his senses until they passed over.

They came in waves that blended into each other, one after the next. Each one was stationary, stuck in place like a photograph. He could feel the muscles in his face as he smiled. He could hear voices coming from a long way off. He saw the shadowy outlines of his parent and another figure. He was in one of the rising and falling chairs, with a blanket tied around his neck and draped across him. All on the floor was his hair, lying together in matted clumps; they fell slowly, landing across his lap. Then he was up, running his fingers through his hair. It was rough and short. He could see a quarter in his palm, and at the next moment a piece of candy had replaced it. Shock ran through his body. He was overwhelmed by a sourness covering his lips.

He came to, gasping and huddled on the floor. Hot tears were splashing onto the floor. Drool pooled over his mouth, sliding down his chin to mix with the tears in the floor. The sour taste from the candy in his memories wouldn’t get out of his mouth. After a long while, the throbbing in his head and chest began to subside. In its place was a bitter anger, and an inescapable loneliness. His lips curled back, and a snarl began to echo throughout the room. He let it grow louder and louder, until it was a howl and a scream. He tried to force more volume to escape, until he felt faint. When he couldn’t scream and he could barely breathe, he let his anger manifest by pounding his fists against the floor. He had to break something, anything. The mirror would do fine. It would be smashed to pieces until there were only tiny slivers of fragments left. Then he would grind the fragments into dust. Then he would sprinkle the dust as he walked, leaving a trail. He could see the pale light of the moon hitting the dust behind him, making it sparkle. It would be left as a reminder. A reminder that he was here, that he existed in this place. He found his way to his feet, and he lunged towards the mirror.
But his foot caught. Something. He could feel it slipping, slipping and falling into thin air. And he himself was falling, falling backwards, until his head met with the floor, breaking his short-lived fall.
Something wet and sticky was spreading around the back of his head. He decided not to think about it. He was probably dying. Better not to think about it. Better to try and ignore the agonizing pain that was shooting in short bursts through the back of his skull. The blood that was undoubtedly leaking from his fractured skull, spilling out onto the floor had to be a bad sign, right?
Eventually, as the stars began to fade away from his vision and he realized he wasn’t losing consciousness, he dared to make an effort to get up. He managed this by rolling from his back to his stomach, then slowly pushing himself up with his arms. There was no blood. There was only a small, clear amount of liquid that had been slicked across the floor by his foot. His tears and saliva. There was hardly even enough to slip on. He pulled himself to his feet, looking towards the mirror. In a way, it was better like this. One small victory against the unfair and isolated world he was trapped in. He moved steadily towards the chairs and mirror, hesitating as he reached them. Then he slipped down, into one of the chairs. He pulled a few tools from the shelf and set to work.
It was tough work. His hair was tangled, long, and resistant to every cut he attempted to make. But after a while, he got it down to a reasonable length. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Just a small attempt at preserving the few remaining vestiges of humanity.

[Frisk]

Day 2- IN WHICH A THING APPEARS

After cutting his hair, the boy spent a while longer at the former barbershop. Barbershop. The word had drifted up, from seemingly nowhere, while he gave his hair the once-over. No, that wasn’t quite right. It was still a barbershop if he used it. The boy fished in his pockets, looking for something he could leave as a sort of payment. He settled for a lighter he had picked up quite some time ago. He left the barbershop as quietly as he had come, as though he had never been there to begin with.
Night had fallen in earnest. During cold and cloudy seasons, the boy often stayed cooped up in the same area for weeks or months, almost like he was hibernating. He felt tied down and stir crazy during those times, and he always yearned for the days of warmer weather and longer sunlight to arrive. But now, the temperature was pleasantly mild. The sky was cloudless and brightly lit by the moon. It was the perfect travelling weather. He would stay at the grocery store for the night, and possibly tomorrow. After that, he would be on his way to the next uninhabited section of the world. He would keep going, on and on, until he finally found something.
A little ways past the rows of buildings he was exploring now was a section of railroad tracks. They were raised up by loose gravel, almost as though they were overlooking the town. He crossed over to them, climbing roughly up the gravel. Reaching the top, he saw that there was another drop-off on the other side, even steeper than the one he had just ascended. At the bottom was a long road that led into several other streets. He looked down each street, reading their names out in his mind: Brooks, Steele, Madison… They were all names that didn’t mean anything to him. But to countless other people, they had probably meant a lot. They were a symbol of place, of where you lived and how to orient yourself in the world. Their importance was lost to someone with no destination.
He knelt down and sat along the tracks, letting his legs dangle out onto the gravel. They He sank in deep and the rocks covered them. He stayed like that for a while, searching the streets for anything of interest. There were small traces of movement; the stirring of plants and trees by the wind.
And then something changed. Abruptly, his eye caught a trace of something unusual. A blurry stream of smoke crept across the road. It seemed to be moving deliberately. He tried to swiftly get to his feet, but the gravel that had swept over his legs slowed him down and tripped up his balance. With nowhere to catch himself, he plunged face forward towards the apparition. The rocks cut at his face and hands, and dirt and grit latched onto his skin. All in all, the boy thought, it had been a bad day. He really needed to work on the tripping problem. He hit the bottom and rolled, springing to his feet.
If whatever he had seen was dangerous, he was dead. Years of isolation had led to forgoing any weaponry he found, choosing instead to save space for other supplies. He cautiously backed up, trying to steady his footing against the rough and uneven stones of the railroad track. It approached him slowly; so slowly that it seemed to operate on a different sense of time than the boy. It was taller than him, though not by much. What had at first resembled smoke now looked like a liquid, suspended in midair. It shifted and flowed in a loose circle. The liquid began to grow more distinct, branching into separate currents and forming a wide network.
Abruptly, the… creature, for lack of a better term, moved away from the boy and shambled forward, following the main road. It wasn’t until it had turned its attention away from him that he realized his heart was pounding. He didn’t know whether he was terrified or ecstatic. All he felt was a blind and reckless curiosity. An impulse to learn about this thing filled him, and he could not reject this feeling. Even if it meant risking life or limb, he would pursue it.
Keeping a reasonable distance, he tailed it. It seemed to be ever-changing, ever-shifting into something else. The network of tiny liquid currents that swam this way and that began to blur and become indistinct. Eventually they had blended into a semi-solid, indistinct mass. Soon after it took on this new form, the mass stopped and turned back towards the boy. All at once, it quivered erratically. Then large pieces began to vanish completely, until it was gone. It was gone, leaving nothing but thin air.
Okay, he had taken a pretty heavy emotional beating at the barbershop, but he didn’t think he was so crazy as to hallucinate. He had never been delusional enough to imagine other living things in this world before, and he felt like he still had a few years left before he needed to. No, whatever he had seen, it had been there. Holding onto this belief, he watched the air where it had been, desperately hoping it would return. And then, for a split second, he saw it. It flickered back into existence, and he noticed it was still changing. The indistinct clump of mass had begun to take a more definite shape. A human shape. And then it was gone again.
He waited for it to appear again. It felt like forever to the boy, staring at an empty pocket of air. He tried everything he could think of: squinting, shouting, inspecting, standing where it had been. But it didn’t come back. He eventually had to make his way back to the grocery store.
Had it really been… A human? When it flickered in his vision for the last time, it had distinctly resembled a person. It had a person’s outline, sprouting out into two arms and two legs. It had a head. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. The network of liquid had probably been veins and blood. As they had faded, they had been replaced with muscle. And it had grown more and more. But… Had it been a human, or something wearing the guise of a human? He racked his brain looking for an answer he knew he wouldn’t be able to find. For now, he would sleep. Tomorrow he would gather supplies and watch around the tracks again. If it didn’t appear again… He would move on to the next town.
No matter what happened, the boy felt a small degree of comfort. He had found something. There were things in this world other than him. He would scour the rest of this world if he had to.


The next day he tried to go about his business like he would any other, but the thought of seeing someone ran rampant in his mind. He could barely focus. He scarfed down a few more sandwiches and knocked back a cold carton of orange juice he had found. He pulled essential nonperishable items from the shelves and stuffed them into his travel pack. When that was done he set out to explore the town again. Perhaps there would be others scattered throughout the town.
As hard as he tried, his mind kept drifting back to the train tracks. He searched the entire town, looking through houses, churches, shops, and even a school; all to no avail. After looking just long enough to convince himself he had been thorough, he dashed back to the tracks. He waited at the top, sitting just like the night before. He didn’t want to jinx himself, so he tried to set everything up to match last night. He did, however, promise himself he wouldn’t trip again if it reappeared.
It took several hours, but it did show up again. This time it was distinctly a human. It was fully formed and even clothed. It shined intensely in the sunlight, so intense the boy could barely look at it. He slid quickly and carefully down the gravel onto the street. Yesterday he had simply observed; today he would try and communicate. He approached it carefully, squinting and straining to see it better.
She. It was a she. She wore loose clothing that was definitely suitable for the summer. Her hair was tied back into a long ponytail. She seemed almost normal, but not quite. From top to bottom, she was solid white. Her clothes, hair, skin, eyes, all distinctly outlined and colored in with white. It was as though she had been bleached out. She walked along the street, turning onto one of the roads. He followed after and called, trying to get her attention. She seemed unable to hear him, however. She turned her head to the side, and he saw her lips moving, but not a single sound emerged.

It was like… Watching from a one-way mirror.