Chapter Text
Tap tap tap tap taptap tap--
Frisk glances over at you from where their nose is buried in their notebook, pencil pausing on the page for a moment before they turn back to whatever they’re doing and go back to ignoring you. Or, trying to, at least. The incessant tapping of your fingernails on the wooden table is distracting them a little too much, you think, but you can’t bring yourself to care in the slightest; you are anxious and it is your mission to make sure everyone here knows it.
Which means Frisk.
It doesn’t take half a minute longer for them to give up, placing their book and pencil down on the table in front of them before turning to you. Is it that weird for her to be late?
“Toriel,” you say, “is many things. Loving? Yes. Considerate? Also yes. Utterly terrifying? Absolutely.” Frisk looks like they’re biting back a laugh at that, but they don’t disagree, which you figure says enough about the matter. “But tardiness is not one of the qualities that Mrs Dreemurr possesses. The only time I’ve ever seen her be late for class is when I’ve held her up,” you mutter. Glancing up at the clock doesn’t help; nearly eight minutes, now. You haven’t stopped tapping, and you catch Frisk eyeing your hand as if they’re considering grabbing it to make you stop. You bare your teeth at them in a grin as if daring them to try. They scrunch up their face.
Maybe she’s just busy, they suggest. And then, more nervously, Do you think it’s...?
They don’t finish. They don’t really have to. Whether they’re referring to the humans, or to the mountain, it really all boils down to the same thing: something bad.
(If you’re being honest, your anxiety had mostly been aimless, stemming from the unexpected break in a previously unshakeable routine, but you latch onto their reasoning nonetheless.)
“We’ll find out soon enough, I guess.” You shrug, hoping it appears more nonchalant than you feel. “Damn if I enjoy having to wait, though.”
Frisk nods in something like agreement. At least it gives me more time to finish my homework.
“You don’t have to worry so much about that, you know,” you point out, propping your chin on your free hand. “You won’t get punished for not finishing it like you do in human schools.”
They don’t sign anything to that, hands already full with their notebook and pencil again, but the disbelieving look they give you speaks volumes. Which is fair, you guess; you hadn’t believed Toriel at first when she’d told you the same thing, either, figuring she was just pulling your chain, trying to find an excuse to be angry with you eventually. It’d taken a solid week of skimping out on your duties before you realized she wasn’t actually just waiting to pull the rug out from under you.
It’d taken you a lot longer to finally realize it was the same for everything the Dreemurrs did in general. It’s...weird, kind of, to see the same process happening through Frisk, even if they do handle things a bit differently. Like looking through a foggy mirror. You’re not sure you like it.
It’s another full five minutes before the door handle clicks like it does when someone’s trying to open it. You and Frisk only have the time to exchange one glance before it’s opened, and--
“Sorry I’m late, children!” Toriel says, smiling at you from the doorway. You have to blink for a moment in surprise; instead of the usual casual clothes she wears to teach, she has her robe on today, the Delta Rune emblazoned on her chest as if she didn’t have the time to change into something else before coming here. It makes you uneasy. “There were some last minute things I had to arrange,” she continues, as cheerfully as if it was any other afternoon. “With that said, ah... Today’s lesson will be held outside.”
Welp. You glance over at Frisk again. They shrug, as if to say yeah, I don’t get it either.
You’re not surprised when she leads you out into the garden. She sits down, and you settle in the grass across from her, wishing you could kick off your shoes and bury your toes in the dirt. That’s unprofessional, though. Toriel waits a moment for both of you to be comfortable before she begins to speak.
“I’m sure both off you are wondering why today’s lesson is being held outside, instead of in our usual room,” she starts. You nod, and she smiles gently, almost-- you think you catch a bit of excitement there, too. “Well, I’ll just get right into it, then. How familiar are the both of you with the concept of STATS?”
You blink. Out of all the things you’d been expecting her to say, that’d probably been the last. “Asriel’s talked about it a little before, I think,” you say slowly, trying to remember the last time he’d rambled on at you about one of his magic lessons. “He didn’t really explain much, and I wasn’t really paying attention? But...it had something to do with battling, right?”
Toriel beams at you. “Very good,” she says. “You already know more than I expected. You are right: stats have to do with battling, which is a very big part of monster culture,” she explains, which is probably for the best; Frisk looks absolutely lost, and you only know a little more than them about this, if you’re being honest. And you’ve been here a lot longer than they have. “When in a battle, it’s important to know not only your own capabilities, but the ability of your opponent,” she continues. “So monsters have devised different ways to measure their natural strengths, called stats. There are five main ones.” She holds out a paw, ticking off each one as she talks. “LV, HP, AT, DF, and EXP.”
“Are we getting quizzed on this?” you ask.
She laughs, shaking her head. “No, dear one. It is a lot of information to take in at once, so I’m simply introducing you to the topic for now. I’ll be going into much more detail with much more proper teaching material later.”
You nod, satisfied. You’re about to say something else when you see movement in your peripheral, and you turn to see Frisk signing, a thoughtful look on their face.
If STATS are used to measure things, they say, does that mean they all represent something else?
“Correct!” Toriel says. There’s a proud gleam in her eyes, and something far too close to envy settles uncomfortably around your shoulders. You do your best to shrug it off. “Each stat stands for a specific concept. AT determines the maximum damage one can inflict upon their opponent during battle, while DF is an expression of how much damage one is protected against. HP is another measure for how much damage one’s SOUL can take in total. LV, meanwhile, often determines your stats; when one’s LV increases, it is usually the case that your other stats will increase as well.”
“So a higher LV is a good thing,” you venture. You don’t miss how she hesitates.
“It is not that simple, I’m afraid.”
What is LV? Frisk asks.
“Baby don’t hurt me,” you mumble, and squawk when grass pelts the side of your head.
I knew you were gonna say that! Frisk sticks their tongue out at you, and you snicker, not even bothering to pick the grass out of your hair. Worth it.
“Children,” Toriel chides gently, but you can tell she thinks it’s at least as funny as you do no matter how hard she tries to hide it. “To answer your question, Frisk,” she says, and they turn back to her, expression growing rapt as she talks “LV, plainly, is short for LOVE.”
“I was right!” you blurt, which earns you another laugh from Toriel.
“Yes, you were. But LOVE, too, is an acronym for something else.” She pauses again,more noticeably than before. You wonder if there’s a term to measure the unease that settles in your stomach at her hesitation. “It stands for Level Of ViolencE.”
None of you say anything for a moment.
“Well,” you say, breaking the short silence. “Shit.”
“Quite,” Toriel chuckles. “To be brief... LOVE is raised through EXP, which in turn stand for... EXecution Points. It’s a measure of one’s capacity to hurt. The more EXP one gains, the higher one’s LOVE rises. It can be easy to deduce how one’s other stats might increase naturally from there.”
You brush your fingers through the grass, squinting at the greenery. Even with the explanation, there’s still one thing that doesn’t make sense to you. “Okay,” you start, “so raising your EXP raises your LOVE, I get it. But how do you get more of something called...ex... Um.” You trail off. Your mind is somewhere ahead of you, and even though you’re not quite caught up with it you can already tell you won’t like where this is headed. Your unease grows into something like nausea. When you look up at Toriel, the sadness in her expression makes you think she already knows you’ve guessed.
Her tone is brisk; neutral. “You kill.”
You flinch. You can’t help it. “Well,” you say, your voice coming out more strangled than it was a moment ago.
“There are a few different ways one’s LV might increase,” she says gently, “although they happen very rarely and can not be done on purpose. None of them are ever good on one’s mental state, aside.” She shakes her head. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. While you’ll be learning everything there is to know with time, it is another stat entirely that you’ll be focusing on primarily from here.”
Frisk furrows their eyebrows, curious. Which one?
“I told you there are five main stats,” she says, giving you a concerned look. You know your breathing has gone funny, too tight and controlled, and you can tell she’s noticed. You shake your head as minutely as possible; you’re fine. It’s fine. She doesn’t question you. Not now, at least. “That was incorrect,” she continues, turning her attention back to you and Frisk both. “There is a sixth one, less prominently discussed because it comes so naturally to us. It is called MP.”
Wait. Wait a second. “Is this going where I think it’s going,” you say, unable to help the excitement in your tone now. Maybe to help forget everything else, in part. Frisk just looks confused again at the exclamation, but there’s a more genuine smile growing on Toriel’s face.
“MP,” she starts, “measures one’s capability to use magic.”
“Holy shit.” You bounce a little in your spot. Oh my god. “You’re gonna teach us magic. Holy shit!”
“I thought you might be excited,” she says, voice warm. “Yes. Both of you have grown to be very important members of our family. So it’s been decided that I’ll be teaching you magic alongside your usual studies.”
But can humans even learn magic? Frisk asks, biting their lip, and you frown. They make a good point. Now that you think about it, you’ve never heard of a human using magic before. Not real magic like monsters use, anyway.
“It’s...uncertain,” Toriel allows. “As far as anyone seems to be aware, there’s been no recorded instance of humans successfully learning magic. There was a small group that had attempted to learn,” she says, and you perk up-- only to droop when she continues, “but...their learning was cut short when tensions between our races began to rise too much to make unbiased study possible. I do not believe they got very far.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” you offer, ignoring the look Frisk gives you. “At least this way they can’t use it against us.”
She blinks, surprised. “That is true. In any case, you will be undertaking a similar learning method, working to raise your MP.”
“MP is another acronym, right?” you ask.
Toriel inclines her head towards you. “That is correct. MP is short for EMPATHY.”
...You don’t know what you were expecting. What is it with monsters and weirdly sympathetic names for things?
How are you supposed to raise something like that? Frisk asks, still looking confused. That seems kind of...abstract.
“EMPATHY doesn’t stand for the emotion itself, mind,” Toriel says, “although you are in the right vein of thought.” Frisk nods, brows furrowed consideringly. “EMPATHY is also an acronym. It stands for EMPowerment And eTHicalitY.”
It’s your turn to furrow your brows. “Sounds complicated.”
“Perhaps it will be easier to understand if I explain how it relates to monsters.” She pauses for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “As you might know, magic is a very big part of monster culture,” she says. “In short, it is an expression of our true self. It’s one of the reasons why battling is so prominent; through these battles, where we exchange displays of magic within a certain set of rules, we are celebrating not only our own selves and our unique talents, but the individuality and skills of our opponent.
“Our very bodies are made of magic. It is why we do not bleed like humans do when hurt, instead turning to dust.” She runs a hand over her fur, as if in demonstration, and you try not to wince. You know very well how fragile monster bodies are. “But it is also because of this that our connection to our magic is so strong. It makes up almost everything we are, and therefore can easily become an extension of ourselves.
“In theory, it’s for the same reason that humans seem to be unable to produce magic.” It’s here that she fixes her gaze on both of you, and Frisk fidgets when she turns her gaze on them. “While magic is constantly running through our bodies, just within reach, all of your magic is locked within your SOUL. It is only a matter of working to reach it from there.”
“But- empowerment? Ethicality?” You screw up your face in confusion. “That sounds even more abstract than empathy.”
“It won’t be an easy process,” she admits. “Like I said, it comes naturally to monsters because of our very natures. Even young monsters, who start off with low MP, quickly raise it without much effort as they begin to grow and understand themselves. In order to raise your MP, you two will have to go on a journey of, er...self discovery, of sorts?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you say flatly.
“It doesn’t require actual travel,” she says, looking far too amused. “But MP does require a certain understanding of self. The more you truly understand your own character and values, and the more self-aware you become, the higher and more quickly it will raise. Of course,” she allows, “it is entirely possible that your MP is high enough to allow you to attempt to produce your own magic already. But, as humans, it is inevitable that you will need to undergo at least some measure of self study before you can become truly proficient.”
You lean back, thinking the information over. It makes sense, you guess; it probably takes a good connection to your soul to be able to tap into your magic and actually, you know, use it. Even still... you can’t help but be a little worried. How good are you, of all people, going to be at something called EMPATHY?
Frisk doesn’t look much more confident when you look over at them. Is there a way to tell what our MP is already?
“To do that, you will need to initiate an encounter with a monster, or vice versa” Toriel says. “This will cause your soul to manifest into something more physical, which can then be analyzed. It can be strange if you’re unused to it,” she continues, “but I can at least promise that it is entirely painless.”
I think it sounds neat, Frisk says, eyes wide. I’ve never seen my soul before. They pause. I’ve never seen anyone’s soul before, actually.
“Unfortunately, you will have to wait until tomorrow for that,” she says, smiling apologetically at the disappointment that must show on both of your faces. “For today I thought I’d run you both through a few simple meditation exercises. If you do them well and often, it can help you gain a deeper connection to your soul.”
After all the talk about magic you just heard, being told you have to meditate is probably one of the cruelest, most boring things that could possibly happen. Like, seriously. You and Frisk look at each other at the same time, though, and you feel a grin slowly spreading over your face.
You’re going to meditate harder than anyone has ever meditated before, and you’re gonna become the best human mage ever.
///
Since the classroom is technically in your house sort of, you don’t have to worry about taking and bringing back all your stuff when class is over like Frisk does. You were kind of hoping they would stay and hang out for a little while afterwards like they usually do, but apparently they promised Alphys they would help her out around the lab today, so you’re left to your own devices, free to do whatever for the couple of hours until Asriel returns from his school.
As it turns out: meditating is fucking hard. Try as you might to empty your mind, you couldn’t seem to block out thoughts of how it’ll feel to learn magic, or what Asriel’s face will look like when you show him what you’ve learned, and how bad your nose was itching. At the very least, you don’t think Frisk had much luck with it either, if the frustrated look on their face after the first ten minute attempt was anything to go by. You’ll take what you can get at this point.
It’s not good enough, though.
The sound of footsteps coming up behind you on the grass dissipates what little concentration you’d managed to gather, and you look up to see Toriel smiling gently down at you where you sit.
“You are quite the studious child,” she says, settling down next to you.
You shrug, only a little self-conscious. “I’ve wanted to learn magic for a while, you know?” You pick at the grass in the circle your criss-crossed legs make. ‘A while’ is a huge understatement, honestly. You’ve been thinking about it ever since you saw Toriel light the fireplace with just a thought; since Asgore made you your first cup of tea with a kind hand and a smile on his face; since Asriel cast a gentle, shimmering glow over your shared bedroom in the middle of the night and asked isn’t it cool, Chara?, looking at you anxiously as if he hadn’t just brought down the sky. You smile to yourself at the thought. “I want to be good.”
“I have no doubt you will be,” she says. “You have always worked very hard at the things you’re interested in. If anyone can make this work, it’s you.” She smiles at you warmly, proudly, and you can’t help the flutter that rises in your chest at the praise, even as you can’t quite believe it.
“Chara...” she continues, and something in her expression slips. “I did not disturb you with our discussion earlier, did I?”
Oh.
The warmth her words had given you drains away slowly as she talks, turning to ash in your mouth. “It is not an easy topic to cover, and I understand if it makes you uncomfortable to think about LV and everything it implies. If you have any questions you’d feel more comfortable asking while we’re alone,” she says, voice as reassuring as it’s ever been, “I would be more than willing to answer without you having to fear any risk of judgement.”
You swallow and look away. There’s an endless sort of kindness in her eyes, deep enough that you’re afraid you’ll drown in it, sometimes, and you can’t help but feel overwhelmed. You want to trust her. You do. But there’s a different fear deep down in you that you don’t think will ever let you go no matter how many times the Dreemurrs tell you it’s okay. It’s terrifying in more ways than one.
“Um.” You bite your lip, looking down at the grass. “If someone has a higher LV, that would make their MP higher too, right? Since it’s supposed to raise stats?”
“A very good question.” She shifts next to you, looking out over the garden in your peripheral, and you relax slightly as she turns the full force of her attention away from you. “In the case of MP, I’m afraid the relation is different. MP describes the force of one’s connection to their SOUL, while LV creates a barrier between the soul and one’s self. It’s simplifying the matter greatly,” she finishes, “but in essence, a higher LV may make it more difficult for one to increase their MP as a result.”
“Oh.”
She doesn’t say anything else, and you’re grateful for the chance to think without pressure. You think, absently, that it was probably a good thing Frisk couldn’t stay today after all.
“Is there a way to lower someone’s LV?” you ask. You peer at her out of the corner of your eye just in time to see her hesitating again.
“There are...a few,” she says. “But most of them are either dangerous, painful, or a mix of both, and none of them are guaranteed to work. The safest way is to simply work to raise one’s MP. By strengthening the bond to their soul, it’s possible for someone with high LV to repair the damage that the EXP has dealt to the connection. But even still,” she says, shaking her head, “it is practically impossible to decrease the amount of EXP one has gained.”
You nod, mostly to yourself. You hadn’t really been expecting anything different. “I just have one more question,” you say, looking down at the grass again. You breathe. “Does having LV make me a bad person?”
You freeze the second you realize how personal you made the question without meaning to and, shit, shit shit, she’ll know now, there’s no way she doesn’t-- she looks down at you and you flinch, not daring to look up, trying to remember how to breathe.
“I-I’m sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean- I’ll be good, I promise--”
“Chara,” she says, and you bite your tongue. “Do you think I am a bad person?”
You can’t stop yourself from looking up at her, eyes wide. “What? Of course not!”
“Is Asgore?” she asks, eyes soft and sad and...something. “Is Gerson?”
You shake your head. “No, you- you’re the best people I know, no fucking question.”
“Then why would it be any different for you?”
Your breath catches at that. For the first time, you find you can’t look away from her face. Is she saying they...?
“Having LV doesn’t make you a bad person.” She holds out a paw, a wordless invitation, and you place your trembling hand on top of hers. She holds you steady. “I know you wouldn’t hurt anybody if you had the choice,” she says, her voice wavering for a moment before she corrects it. “And I am...deeply sorry that you were ever in a situation where that was a choice you had to make. Even if you do have LV...that doesn’t change the fact that you have gained so much love.” When she looks at you, her expression is full of so much care that you almost don’t know how to handle it. “Do you understand?”
For a moment, you can’t move. But then you’re nodding, and your throat goes tight and hot, and you couldn’t stop the sniffle that escapes you if you tried. Which, uh. You tried.
“Oh, child,” Toriel says, opening up her arms, and you don’t have to be asked twice; you lean forward into her embrace, having to practically crawl into her lap to do so. It’s-- safe.
“I will not ask you to talk about it,” she says quietly, once you’ve calmed down enough that you’re no longer outright leaking all over her. “But if, at any point, you would like to do so, you have any number of people who are willing to listen as much as you need.”
You nod against her chest. That’s a kindness you won’t ever let yourself take, you don’t think, but she’s done too much for you to refuse outright. They all have. “Can I ask you something?” you say instead, looking up at her.
“Of course.”
“Can you...not tell anybody else? I don’t--” You have to pause, your voice determined to rebel against you as it is, but Toriel nods in understanding before you can continue.
“I will not say a single word,” she promises, and you feel the last of your tension leave you for good. You can’t see her face when you go to hug her tighter again, but you can hear her smile, almost. “I love you very much, Chara.”
There’s no way she could really hear it when you mumble the words into her chest, but from the way her arms tighten around you in turn, you don’t think it matters.