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Running around the castle barefoot is something they're still getting used to.
On the Surface, in their old so-called home, running anywhere barefoot was just asking for trouble. Too many small hazards to chance it, even inside of the tenement's relative safety from the outside. It would have left them with wounds on their feet to walk the floors there without shoes.
The castle floors are different. Cleaner, smoother, even softer in some places.
They're all expensive tile, with the occasional plush rug. It can be a little cold, at times, but it poses no threat to them on a day to day basis if they happen to forego shoes.
They're still getting used to it.
They're still getting used to a lot of things, actually — for instance, they're still feeling out their new so-called family: Asgore and Toriel and Asriel, the suspiciously kind monsters who had taken them in after their ill-fated trip up Mt. Ebott.
They don't know how they feel about Asgore and Toriel yet. They're adults, which means that they obviously can't be trusted, but it's been three months and they haven't so much as raised their voices to Chara yet. It's unusual, and they're starting to think that maybe monster adults aren't as bad as human adults.
They like Asriel, though, and they don't really mind the idea of him being their brother. They've never had a brother before. They're not sure brothers are usually such crybabies, but Asriel is weird in a lot of ways.
Monsters, generally, are weird.
But mostly, right now, they're thinking about the fact that they're still getting used to the fact they can go barefoot wherever inside of the castle they want, and even some places outside of the castle. Their bedroom, especially, is kept clear of debris.
They pick their way across said bedroom to Asriel's bed, tonight. It's late, they're supposed to be asleep, but they just can't stop thinking. Asriel is usually happy to talk with them for a while.
The tile is cold under their bare feet as they slip out of bed.
Their brother stirs the moment that they lay a hand next to him on the bed to get his attention, peeking one eye open to look at them. He gives them a sleepy, understanding smile and lifts up the blanket without a sound, offering them the warm spot at his side to take.
They slip gratefully into the space he's opened, and they don't flinch when he lays an arm over their side and nuzzles into their hair.
They may not know what to think of Asgore or Toriel yet, they may still flinch when either of them moves too quickly, but they don't flinch from Asriel. They never flinch from Asriel, not anymore. He's earned that right a thousand times over by never once making them fear they were in danger of being hit or cursed at or locked in a closet until 'their behavior improved', even when they make him very upset.
(They're not sure that they think Asgore or Toriel would hit them.)
(Asgore is imposing, but his anger doesn't seem to manifest physically, when it does manifest. They're not entirely worried he'll hit them. He's more likely to curse, they think. They don't know whether to worry about him locking them in a closet if they misbehave. He hasn't done it yet — hasn't done either yet —, but they're not entirely convinced that he won't when his patience finally runs out.)
(Toriel... Well, they're just not sure about Toriel at all. Their birth mother had been a cold and distant woman, rarely home at all and prone to cursing fits when she was. Toriel isn't like that, so they have no idea what to expect from her. She could be the hitting type.)
(Asgore is just enough like their birth father, they think, to have a basis of comparison. Toriel is nothing like their birth mother at all. It makes them nervous.)
"... Can't sleep?" Asriel murmurs against their head, his breath ruffling their hair.
They shake their head.
Unsurprised by the lack of verbal reply, he hums and pulls them a little closer. He yawns, then says, "I can tell you about... My cousins back in the Ruins...? If you want."
He's clearly still half-asleep. He'll probably fall asleep mid-sentence if they ask him to talk, and they'll probably be lulled into a semi-peaceful slumber by the sound and feeling of him breathing, of his soul beating in his chest, next to their face. They don't think they'd mind that.
They nod.
He hums again. It takes a second for him to start talking.
"Most of my cousins are older than me," Is how he starts, "mostly mom's side of the family, since dad didn't have any siblings."
He talks for a while longer, interspersed with brief pauses and yawns. He tells them about his cousins, his only surviving uncle, and his aunts. The longer he talks, the longer the pauses between words slowly grow. The yawns become more and more frequent.
Finally, he trails off in the middle of a sentence about how his cousin Sigvetr fought in the war and never had children, so he's still practically fit as a fiddle a thousand years on. He doesn't yawn.
The silence stretches as his breathing evens out, going slow and deep.
They lie there listening to his soulbeat, eyes closed, until they start fighting yawns. They don't fight very hard.
Into the silence, halting and slow and very quiet, they murmur, "Thanks, Azzy."
They wouldn't dare say it to his face. Not yet. They're still just not there yet, with these people, not even Asriel. Talking is...
Talking is difficult. Sometimes painful. Often frustrating. Worse than all that, it's a frightening experience to use their voice around other people. A child can only be told to shut up so many times.
Blessedly, Asriel does not reply to their words, nor does he stir at all.
They're not sure when they fall asleep.