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Entry tags:
Plants
Title: Plants
Fandom: Undertale + Angel Notes
Character(s): Flowey, V/V
Pairing(s): None
Genre: General
Word Count: 980
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers
Summary: Two plants meet, one from underground and one from above.
Notes: Ridiculously self-indulgent. V/V's fake body never gets hurt in Angel Notes, but with all the talk of it being an 'illusion' I imagine she could fix it pretty easily.
The barrier keeps monsters from knowing much of what happens on the surface. Those in the ruins do notice when the patch of sky they can see turns grey.
One day they all feel it: the shock of something enormous landing above them. The crash sounds throughout the underground, stopping everyone in their tracks to look up and wonder: what was that?
But without seeing it, there’s no telling what it was.
And in time, they forget about that too.
Most humans, when they fall into the ruins, are injured in some way. It’s a long way down. Their injuries usually make them easy targets for Flowey, unless Toriel interrupts.
There’s no chance of that now, but...
This person doesn’t have a scratch on her. Mostly because she has wings. People with wings don’t often choose to fall great distances and hurt themselves.
Flowey pops up, stares at her for a second, then decides to go with his usual opening speech.
“Well howdy! You’re new to the underground, huh?”
“That’s right,” she answers, with a smile. “I just flew down from up above.”
“Most humans don’t fly so well,” he says. “They pretty much just fall.”
“Oh, I’m not a human. I’m an angel.” She flutters her wings. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Flowey. Flowey the flower!” He’d ask what her name was except he doesn’t care. “Y’know, we’ve got stories of angels down here in the underground. Or, we did before everyone left.”
“Really? We have stories of angels up there, too.” The angel crouches down, presumably to better talk to him. “What are your stories like?”
“Oh, you know. An angel will one day lead us out of suffering and help us escape the underground. All that hopeful stuff!” Total garbage. The fact that they’ve escaped the underground now without angel intervention proves it, unless Frisk counts as an angel.
Frisk probably counts.
“I don’t think I’m that kind of angel,” she says.
“Well, there’s also the stories where an angel of death will come down and kill us all to put us out of our misery…” He’d liked those stories better.
She frowns. “A little closer to that one.”
“Hmm, then you’re not a very good angel, are you?” he asks.
“No, I guess not.” Her smile returns, and she reaches out to- pet him? Do something. In any case, his reaction to people trying to touch him without warning is immediate: he shoots bullets at her hand.
She stops, as many people would do with a big hole in their hand. “Ow.” She examines her hand, which isn’t bleeding despite having a hole clean through it. “You don’t want me to pet you, I guess?”
“Congratulations, you’re not a total idiot.” His friendly tone has slipped. Despite that, though, his curiosity is piqued enough to not attack again. “You’re not bleeding.”
“I didn’t think I would have to when I made this body,” she says. “Should I?”
“Most humans do, in my personal experience. I’ve never killed an angel.”
“You probably won’t,” she answers. “But I can remake this body with blood in it.”
There’s a moment where she has a hole in her hand, and a moment where she doesn’t. It doesn’t have anything to do with a save: he’d recognize that power immediately.
“Okay,” she says, holding out her hand. “Try it again?”
If he were able to, he’d shrug. Instead he shoots a few more bullets at her arm. She makes no attempt to dodge. This time, blood drips out of the holes he leaves.
“Is that better?” she asks.
“It loses some of the charm of unexpected violence when you tell me to do it,” Flowey says, eyes narrowed.
The holes disappear. “Sorry,” she says. “Even if you wanted to kill me, you couldn’t with bullets. This isn’t my real body, and my real one doesn’t have the concept of ‘death’.”
Flowey can’t say he isn’t irritated by not being able to seriously hurt her, but whatever. She’s something new in the underground, and that hasn’t happened for ages, so he’ll just talk to her for now. “What’s your real body like?”
“A big plant,” she says. “A really big one. Humans built a city on it big.” She smiles brightly at him. “So, since we’re both plants, we should be friends!”
That’s even more annoying- wait. “Plants aren’t supposed to talk.”
“But you’re talking,” she says.
“I’m not supposed to.” He sticks his tongue out. Nothing to hide being a terrible perversion of the natural order like acting nonchalant and playful about it!
“Oh, neither am I. I’m a parasitic plant, so when people started living on me I absorbed the concept of ‘thought’ from them. And now I can think for myself.”
That sounds like… not the same process, but the end result… “So you don’t have a soul?”
“I guess not,” she says, like she’s never previously considered it. “I’m not a real person, after all.”
“But you have determination.”
“I think so. ...You’re looking at me kind of funny,” she adds, after a moment.
Flowey is pretty sure this feeling making his petals crawl is ‘jealousy’.
“I should go back up,” she says, straightening up again. “I can’t go much further down here, or I won’t be connected to my real body anymore. But it was nice to meet you, Flowey! Will you be here next time I come down?”
“Maybe,” he says. Not like there’s anything else to do down here now. “What’d you even come down here for?”
She beams. “To meet nice people like you, of course. Take care for now, okay?”
He doesn’t answer before she lifts off the ground and flies all the way back to the opening, then disappears out of sight.
...What an idiot.
But, there’s not much else to do, so…
Maybe she’ll come again. At least it’ll break the monotony.
Fandom: Undertale + Angel Notes
Character(s): Flowey, V/V
Pairing(s): None
Genre: General
Word Count: 980
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers
Summary: Two plants meet, one from underground and one from above.
Notes: Ridiculously self-indulgent. V/V's fake body never gets hurt in Angel Notes, but with all the talk of it being an 'illusion' I imagine she could fix it pretty easily.
The barrier keeps monsters from knowing much of what happens on the surface. Those in the ruins do notice when the patch of sky they can see turns grey.
One day they all feel it: the shock of something enormous landing above them. The crash sounds throughout the underground, stopping everyone in their tracks to look up and wonder: what was that?
But without seeing it, there’s no telling what it was.
And in time, they forget about that too.
Most humans, when they fall into the ruins, are injured in some way. It’s a long way down. Their injuries usually make them easy targets for Flowey, unless Toriel interrupts.
There’s no chance of that now, but...
This person doesn’t have a scratch on her. Mostly because she has wings. People with wings don’t often choose to fall great distances and hurt themselves.
Flowey pops up, stares at her for a second, then decides to go with his usual opening speech.
“Well howdy! You’re new to the underground, huh?”
“That’s right,” she answers, with a smile. “I just flew down from up above.”
“Most humans don’t fly so well,” he says. “They pretty much just fall.”
“Oh, I’m not a human. I’m an angel.” She flutters her wings. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Flowey. Flowey the flower!” He’d ask what her name was except he doesn’t care. “Y’know, we’ve got stories of angels down here in the underground. Or, we did before everyone left.”
“Really? We have stories of angels up there, too.” The angel crouches down, presumably to better talk to him. “What are your stories like?”
“Oh, you know. An angel will one day lead us out of suffering and help us escape the underground. All that hopeful stuff!” Total garbage. The fact that they’ve escaped the underground now without angel intervention proves it, unless Frisk counts as an angel.
Frisk probably counts.
“I don’t think I’m that kind of angel,” she says.
“Well, there’s also the stories where an angel of death will come down and kill us all to put us out of our misery…” He’d liked those stories better.
She frowns. “A little closer to that one.”
“Hmm, then you’re not a very good angel, are you?” he asks.
“No, I guess not.” Her smile returns, and she reaches out to- pet him? Do something. In any case, his reaction to people trying to touch him without warning is immediate: he shoots bullets at her hand.
She stops, as many people would do with a big hole in their hand. “Ow.” She examines her hand, which isn’t bleeding despite having a hole clean through it. “You don’t want me to pet you, I guess?”
“Congratulations, you’re not a total idiot.” His friendly tone has slipped. Despite that, though, his curiosity is piqued enough to not attack again. “You’re not bleeding.”
“I didn’t think I would have to when I made this body,” she says. “Should I?”
“Most humans do, in my personal experience. I’ve never killed an angel.”
“You probably won’t,” she answers. “But I can remake this body with blood in it.”
There’s a moment where she has a hole in her hand, and a moment where she doesn’t. It doesn’t have anything to do with a save: he’d recognize that power immediately.
“Okay,” she says, holding out her hand. “Try it again?”
If he were able to, he’d shrug. Instead he shoots a few more bullets at her arm. She makes no attempt to dodge. This time, blood drips out of the holes he leaves.
“Is that better?” she asks.
“It loses some of the charm of unexpected violence when you tell me to do it,” Flowey says, eyes narrowed.
The holes disappear. “Sorry,” she says. “Even if you wanted to kill me, you couldn’t with bullets. This isn’t my real body, and my real one doesn’t have the concept of ‘death’.”
Flowey can’t say he isn’t irritated by not being able to seriously hurt her, but whatever. She’s something new in the underground, and that hasn’t happened for ages, so he’ll just talk to her for now. “What’s your real body like?”
“A big plant,” she says. “A really big one. Humans built a city on it big.” She smiles brightly at him. “So, since we’re both plants, we should be friends!”
That’s even more annoying- wait. “Plants aren’t supposed to talk.”
“But you’re talking,” she says.
“I’m not supposed to.” He sticks his tongue out. Nothing to hide being a terrible perversion of the natural order like acting nonchalant and playful about it!
“Oh, neither am I. I’m a parasitic plant, so when people started living on me I absorbed the concept of ‘thought’ from them. And now I can think for myself.”
That sounds like… not the same process, but the end result… “So you don’t have a soul?”
“I guess not,” she says, like she’s never previously considered it. “I’m not a real person, after all.”
“But you have determination.”
“I think so. ...You’re looking at me kind of funny,” she adds, after a moment.
Flowey is pretty sure this feeling making his petals crawl is ‘jealousy’.
“I should go back up,” she says, straightening up again. “I can’t go much further down here, or I won’t be connected to my real body anymore. But it was nice to meet you, Flowey! Will you be here next time I come down?”
“Maybe,” he says. Not like there’s anything else to do down here now. “What’d you even come down here for?”
She beams. “To meet nice people like you, of course. Take care for now, okay?”
He doesn’t answer before she lifts off the ground and flies all the way back to the opening, then disappears out of sight.
...What an idiot.
But, there’s not much else to do, so…
Maybe she’ll come again. At least it’ll break the monotony.