[So many mirrors just feel the need to offer disparaging commentary today, don't they? It burns even worse than their tongue, sore from being bitten, worse than their hand, fragments of glass still buried into the soft flesh.
Frisk's jaw is set, rigid and hard when they enter, their hand still dripping viscous red. They glare at the mirror, too cold and horrible to care about anyone's feelings.]
no subject
Frisk's jaw is set, rigid and hard when they enter, their hand still dripping viscous red. They glare at the mirror, too cold and horrible to care about anyone's feelings.]
Don't. Don't you dare.