doll parts › storage

[...] disgusting little bug in the grand scheme of things, a flower to be stepped on time and time again. they are not the breathing buttercup beneath desert sun where blood curls walls and bodies boil, not the songbird dancing among eve of spring, not the doll with sad ocean eyes, nor the constellation child protected under a moon king's waning smile and gun powder voice. they are not all of what hypokrisis says they are, but they want to be. oh, how they want to.
— frisk, in waterway after the rebuild

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