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"Excellent. Should you become hungry, there is a bowl of candy in the next room."

She pauses. "The pedestal on which it rests reads 'take one'. There is no need to feel guilty if you need more than one. We have run into problems with that in the past."

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"...Is the next room also safe?" she asks, since monsters and ancient traps were mentioned.

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"Almost entirely."

Toriel hangs up.

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...well then.

Sable tentatively opens her groundsense and looks around for a candy-bearing pedestal.
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For a value of "candy" which includes "tiny incandescent orbs of crystallized magic," it's over there.

The local magic is really hard to see around. There seems to be a clump of it between her and the candy. Doesn't feel much like a living thing, though.
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Okay, well, that will have to do. She opens the door to the candy room.

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The lump of magic turns out to be:

A very large frog, a few inches taller than her. He turns to stare at her serenely.

"Ribbit."
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What.

"Um, hello," she says uncertainly.
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"Ribbit, ribbit."

The frog appears to be saying hello, and saying that she seems to be a very kind human, and asking whether she would like some advice.
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This is surreal but it is not the most surreal thing that has happened to her this morning.

"Yes?"
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"Ribbit, ribbit."

The frog appears to be saying that many monsters will seem hostile toward her, but that for the most part, they are not bad people, they are only angry, or afraid, and that such a kind human should find it within herself to show them mercy.

"Ribbit, ribbit."

He adds that engaging one's foes in a conversation is often a good way to defuse such a situation. Compliments, in particular, rarely go amiss.
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"Well, thank you," she says. "I'll keep that in mind."

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"Ribbit," the frog demurs.

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"Toriel mentioned a bowl of candy in this room; is that it over there?"

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"Ribbit," the frog confirms, and hops away.

The candy looks lovely. It is very brightly colored.

...There may be something hiding behind the pedestal. Looks like another frog.
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"Thanks," she calls after the departing frog.

Well, time to approach the candy.
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The frog notices her as she approaches.

Then it notices her soul.

To whatever degree she can recognize a giant frog's facial expressions, it looks conflicted, even as it exhales a cloud of glowing insects that dart towards her little ball of light.
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"Excuse me!" she exclaims, dodging. "What's this about?"

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This particular frog does not seem to understand what she's saying, though it gets the general drift.

"Croak," it apologizes.
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"Well, if you're sorry then why are you doing it?"

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"Croak," it says desperately. There's a suggestion of some greater purpose, one for which her soul must be taken.

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"How sure are you of that?" she asks sharply. "The world is full of people who thought they needed to do something awful for the greater good, only to find the greater good better served by a different intervention. You seem like a very nice frog and I'm sure you wouldn't be doing this if you didn't think it was important, but I won't accept that there's no other solution before I've even heard what the problem is."

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The frog's comprehension of her language does not seem to be this complex.

However, at "very nice frog" its eyes well up with tears, and by the time she's through it's openly weeping. Its remaining fly-bullets flicker into nothing. "Croooooak," it croaks miserably.
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"There, there," she says, approaching cautiously.

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The frog does not produce further glowing flies. It does produce more tears.

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