[They have to wait, pause to let their organs settle and stop rebelling against the thing they just slid down their esophagus. Frisk smiles thinly, sadly, the motion pulled easily from their lips, lacking the motivation to prevent it. Chara dispensing their typical commentary. Like nothing's wrong.

Maybe someone will find them here. Maybe someone will find one or both of them dying, Frisk telling stories to a corpse, or maybe they'll both be coiled over one another and puking their guts out.

Lie here and die together. That was the original plan. Too bad Frisk doesn't want to get up and finish the job. Their breathing hitches for a short moment, and then they press forward, their tone even, the words steady.]

The god of the dead had heard such pleas before. Many, many times. But moved by the power of Orpheus's music, he finally agreed that he would let Eurydice return to the land of the living, on one condition.

[Focus on the curve of fingers around their arm. Touch. Always a sticky point for them. It's nice of them to allow this one thing, even if they're the one who's straddling the dangerous line here.]

He had to walk out of hell, and never once look back to check that Eurydice was following. He would simply have to trust that she was behind him.

So he agreed with the terms. He began to walk back out of hell. It was a long journey.

[They pick up one of the pre-picked leaves with their free hand. Toy with it, folding it between their fingers.]

He always wanted to look back to make sure his beloved was there, but he kept his promise. He did not look back. He only trusted she would follow.