Curse of the High Tide

[Isabelle]

Frisk traversed Isst Menschen, the bustle of the the merchant district quickly disappeared into a small, somewhat rundown neighborhood. They were far enough to be unable to enjoy a nice view of the ocean, but close enough to be covered in seagull crap. In fact, there was way more the putrid white feces here than there was down by the docks. It was clear where the city’s priorities lied when they came to cleaning.


The houses consisted of small shacks, each one identical in build as if the architect just copy and pasted them down the street, but the wear and tear of years of neglect had given each house identifying marks that hid the laziness of their creator. None of them looked like they could house more than one person, though some of them had up to five.


‘It’s a roof over your head...’ Frisk thought to herself. She could imagine the desperation that would lead some to cram into such a space. Life was very different before Toriel came along.


She made her way down to the end of the block and let out a gasp. The house she had been looking for was in far worse shape than she imagined, even when compared to the others. Windows were smashed in and boarded up, graffiti adorned their walls, curse words, death threats, words that would make Toriel get a heart attack if Frisk had repeated them in front of her.


Cautiously, she approached the door, half expecting the building to collapse on her. She rapped four times on the cheap wooden door. She made sure to do it one one of the more smoother surfaces to ensure she didn’t get splinters from it.


After a few seconds, the sound of feet pounding across the floor resonated from behind the door. An audible click sounded as the door opened a crack, held aloft my several chains. The woman that appeared looked to be in her twenties, except her hair was composed of brown tentacles. She looked down at the child, her untrusting eyes piercing her soul.


“Speletta?” Frisk asked. The woman didn’t respond, she just continued her glare. “I’m here to ask about Dagusen?”


“One moment.” She said, closing the door. The young once could hear the scraping sound of the chains being unlocked one by one. Eventually, she opened the door wide. Upon seeing her fully, she was donning long flowing robes that covered everything below the neck, they even dragged on the floor, obscuring her feet. She couldn’t even see the hand that unlocked the door. “Please, come in.”


Frisk stepped through the portal. The smell of rotting fish hit her nostrils like a brick wall, it overpowered all her senses right off the bat, she was almost blinded by how rancid it was. As she got her bearings, she quickly noticed the woman’s house was strewn about, clothes in disarray, random garbage on the floor. She could barely hear the sounds of a distant television in the next room, can’t make out what the voices on TV were saying.


The woman finished locking up and started moving towards the kitchen.


“Make yourself comfortable while I go fix us something.” She said casually as she almost glided across the floor into the kitchen.


Frisk took this moment to look around. Random magazines strewn the floor, stuff like “Fish Monthly” and “Despots Depots.” One magazine was opened to a quiz, “Am I a redeemed villain?” which was either a genuine attempt at reformation or an obvious plant. Considering all she’s seen, she couldn’t tell.


Suddenly, she took notice of a small device next to the door. It was something that obviously was designed to make sound, but didn’t have the makings of recorder, only having one button. Ever the precocious child, she pressed the button.


The sound of footsteps, going from softer to louder and then stopping.


“This is the sound I heard earlier… why would she fake her own footsteps?” She said out loud, puzzled. This was something the monsters back home would do. It was odd the monsters of this world would be self-conscious about that sort of thing. “What reason would she have to disguise the nature of her feet?”


Then suddenly, a knife pierced the device. Attached to the knife was a tentacle. Frisk turned her body, her eyes following the appendage until it lead her to the being standing right behind her. Speletta was in front of her, her robes had been lifted up to reveal a squirming body of eight tentacles, each one holding their own separate kitchen knife.


“Ohh! I wasn’t expecting that!” She said pleased. “So the feet thing is to throw me off, give yourself an advantage! Okay, that makes a lot more sense.”


The octopus lady didn’t react, she motioned forward, blade wielding tentacles coming from all sides.