Work Text:
Gordon Freeman got into many, many peculiar situations these days. After his very unwilling employment with the G-Man, as that Shephard fellow had called him, there wasn't a moment's rest for Gordon.
This wasn't the strangest situation he'd been in.
He's seen war, he's traversed alien borderworlds, he's destroyed armies and god-like entities alike, and this was not the strangest situation he had been in. Gordon was no stranger to amnesia. But he didn't remember going anywhere near a mountain.
Gordon, also, did not remember that golden flowers could prevent death from heights. The bed he was currently sat on was plush with the plentiful and, surprisingly, unsquashed plantlife, but that did not necessarily mean that he shouldn't be dead right now. He supposed it was because of that government man that wanted him alive, even now, and brushed the thought aside.
He was, however, supposed to be helping humanity recover from the Combine right now. There was no time for… this .
So Gordon stood and grabbed his crowbar from nearby, patting down his HEV suit to check for damage (not even a dent, somehow ) before proceeding forward.
The room ahead had walls of some sort of... black stone, making the chamber look as if it was completely black aside from the patch of grass in the middle underneath light from the surface. Maybe I can make it out of here before that daylight fades, he thinks, already filing that under 'goals to meet'.
It felt to him as if there was something meant to be there. Yet, there was nothing. Gordon proceeded once more, stalling in the doorway of the next room. Well. This explained the pillars in the cave he had woken up in.
This particular area was very purple, light, fading, crumbling. Ruined, but elegant and regal. Overgrown. To put it simply, he found it very pretty. Nothing like the natural chaos of Xen, but similar. Not at all close to City 17, but similar as well. Both places he had found… pretty , in their own ways, despite how terrifying both had been.
Gordon was about to continue walking when he heard a voice.
He, almost instinctively at this point, tensed, slowly lowering himself closer to the floor. His eyes stayed trained on the doorway he had seen while studying the stairs just across the hall. Pattering footsteps accompanied the voice, something he would liken to an animal, perhaps a horse. Whatever it was, it was hooved .
The voice was feminine, but low, with a merry, innocent lilt to it that made him reconsider his defensive position.
"Now, my child, you must take care not to step on the flowers. They are very tough, but with enough pressure, anything is fragile."
There was no verbal reply before the woman began to speak again.
"Well, rest assured, I will make sure that you do not harm the flowers at all. I am very good with agriculture, little one, I've had many years to cultivate my skills!"
Gordon rose, lowering his crowbar and taking a few, tentative steps forward. Two figures emerged from the doorway just at the same time. Some sort of… goat-woman, and a child. Human, which brought the question of how--
"Goodness," the goat-woman says, surprise written on her face clearly, "this is unexpected." The child waved to Gordon with a small smile, and he gave a slight head-tilt back. He flipped his weapon in his hand anxiously, dragging his thumb along the rusted metal. The texture was missing, but the repetitive motion was, if only slightly , calming enough.
The goat-woman hurried down the stairs, the child following with less urgency. Gordon straightened his posture, hoping his choice not to attack was the right one. The child ran right up to him, staring with wide eyes, and signed,
"What are you wearing? Are you a superhero?"
Gordon was used to the assumption he was a hero, yes. But not at all used to others who spoke exclusively in ASL.
"I am not a superhero," he carefully replied, keeping an eye on the goat-woman he assumed was the child's mother, "at least I do not think I am." Gordon thought on how to simplify the HEV suit for sign, but didn't get the chance to answer the question.
"Oh! You speak in hands, too, human?" The goat-woman asked, rhetorically, with a smile. "It is quite a difficult language. I hardly have a grasp on it myself," she laughed, and Gordon found he could give an honest smile to the small-talk for once. "I am Toriel, and this is Frisk. It is lovely to meet you… ?"
Toriel paused, and Gordon only then noticed the watering can she was holding. Perhaps they were going to water the flowers.
"Gordon," he used his name-sign, at first, and then spelt it out.
"I'm Frisk," and they caught on quickly, it seemed, using what looked like their own, descriptive, name-sign ("free" and "risk", which Gordon thought was funny of them), "it's nice to meet you." Frisk offered a gap-toothed smile.
"Gordon." Toriel hummed in a tone that suggested she was testing the name, "Gordon… well, it is a pleasure to meet you. You have fallen down, have you not? You must be tired after the long trek up the mountain, as well... would you like to rest at our home, perhaps, have some pie?"
Gordon contemplated it for a moment, looking between the two. Frisk was trying to give him puppy-dog eyes, so he sighed and nodded with a smile, and so they went.