For monsters, magic is an expression of the soul, is it not?
[Creatures made entirely of love and magic, creatures who can communicate with the shapes and patterns that pour out of them. Frisk offers them the gift of magic, holding up the promise of being... like that. Of being capable of something that can be understood. Something that can warm like fire magic can.]
That's all my wretched excuse of a SOUL has within it. All I'm capable of. You can't expect a broken thing to produce anything whole or helpful, can you?
[It makes sense, doesn't it? They were born wrong, they've always been broken. All they've done is destroy. What else would you expect their magic to look like?]
no subject
For monsters, magic is an expression of the soul, is it not?
[Creatures made entirely of love and magic, creatures who can communicate with the shapes and patterns that pour out of them. Frisk offers them the gift of magic, holding up the promise of being... like that. Of being capable of something that can be understood. Something that can warm like fire magic can.]
That's all my wretched excuse of a SOUL has within it. All I'm capable of. You can't expect a broken thing to produce anything whole or helpful, can you?
[It makes sense, doesn't it? They were born wrong, they've always been broken. All they've done is destroy. What else would you expect their magic to look like?]