thisavrou_log | [Open] working your fingers to the bones, cause nobody loves you when you're gone

With a bony hand to his temple, Sans strikes a look between apologetic and embarrassed. For the first time since arriving on the Moira, the fact that they are a crew rather than an collection of individuals thrown into the same metal box. Sans can't quite tell if the thought is comforting or unpleasant.

"Sorry we caused so much trouble. My bro just... well, he believes in people -- and himself -- real hard. I guess it's kinda contagious. I thought if anyone had a chance of getting through to whatever that thing was, it was him."

Which, in retrospect, was just him making the same mistake twice. Sans chuckles, pinching at the strip bone between his eye sockets.

"If there's anything I can do to take some of the pressure off your shoulders, kid, just name it."

"No, you both couldn't have known what kind of havoc he'd wreaked before you arrived. If anything this is a learning experience-- what's happened on the ship before, if there are dangers to be aware of, we have to educate the crew about them before accidents like this happen."

And she does believe it was an accident. Even with the neon sign on the door warning people to stay away, there would always be people who wouldn't take it seriously. With better education, they might be able to avoid that.

"I understand his impulse though. If I hadn't been attacked by what's behind that door, I might have been slow to judge the situation too." That's the diplomatic answer, really. In all honesty, she wants to tell somebody that Rinzler was pressuring her to find a way to kill Ploiatos, and that the idea might gain momentum if something like this happened again. But pitting crewmembers against crewmembers isn't the answer to this.

She looks tired, but she smiles anyway. "Knowing you're both recovering is enough weight off my shoulders."

Sans returns it, hoping his earnest gratitude is apparent inspire of his exhaustion.

"We come from a place where our kind was shut away behind magic wards and walls, for no real reason other than fear." Sans explains, slowly. He's never quite sure how humans will react to the story, and while their comfort isn't his priority in most cases -- Elizabeth is nice. And Sans knows she's trying her best. "The situation had enough parallels that made it harder to see the differences."

After a few moments, skeletal fingers tapping out a tatoo against the arm of his chair, Sans speaks again.

"It might be helpful if you have someone who isn't, ah, human assisting with the education effort."

Not that he's volunteering, per se, but Sans leaves the door open for it all the same. More work isn't something he would normally volunteer for, but the reality of his brother sleeping heavily next to him is more than enough to blur that personal rule.

Edited 2016-04-12 19:25 (UTC)

Elizabeth's eyebrows raise a fraction in surprise, though she can't say the idea is completely outlandish and ridiculous. She's seen, first hand, what Comstock and his scientists had done to her when they realized she was different-- and she at least looked human. She'd hoped that maybe people like Toriel and Sans came from a place where they were ordinary-- but apparently not.

"...I know, it would have been hard for me too if-- if he hadn't attacked me and so many other people." Elizabeth knows Wanda doesn't want her abilities spread around as much as Elizabeth doesn't want her past to be public knowledge. But from what Wanda said, the fact that Ploiatos enjoyed hunting and creating death and chaos when he didn't have to gave Elizabeth more reason not to identify with the creature locked in its cage.

...but she still couldn't justify killing him.

"I don't talk about this often, Sans, because I don't like the idea of it coloring anyone's ideas about me, but I know what it's like to be isolated because someone is afraid of you. I was kept in a tower-- six otherwise normal-seeming rooms-- until I escaped. About two years ago. So already, I'm sympathetic to anyone and anything that just wants to live free, I was there once after all.

"...but those of us with ability, or position, or power, have to use it responsibly if we expect people to essentially put their lives in our hands. Otherwise, I can't blame anyone for being afraid if their experience is being attacked or hurt or terrorized." She couldn't blame Booker for being afraid of her-- she could kill anyone who crossed her, she had been (and still is, sometimes,) emotionally volatile. As much as she wished he wasn't he'd seen her hurt others more than help them. That had been her legacy until the end.

"It's a complicated thing. And it seems like the only way to prevent it is to have a world full of perfect people," she says with a wry smile.

The story was unexpected, and yet also not in some ways. Not because of who Elizabeth was, or how she was, or what she was -- but rather what all the monster history books said about humanity and the fear they were capable of. Fear of the unknown, fear of each other, fear of a peaceful species of magical beings -- his people. Even baseless fear was grounds for endless wars and permanent consequences. In no way did Sans believe such misguided action was limited only to his people. Humans could be just as cruel to each other -- he was certain of that.

Sans chose to believe, for a long time, that humans were neither all good nor all bad. His research into the soul proved to him that all humans existed not as a singular goal but as many, many goals layered overtop each other -- colored and weighed down by beliefs and life experience. Compared to a monster soul, they were endlessly complex. Often times the same soul would hold the potential for overwhelming charity and kindness right alongside the potential to cause irreparable harm.

Elizabeth was much the same. Her soul wasn't immediately readable, but her story painted a picture that matched up alongside the few glimpses he had.

"Glad to see the captains at least are good at staffing, even if their safety measures leave a lot to be desired." Sans smiles, giving her a sympathetic look. He believes that, despite all else. Elizabeth made an excellent first mate. "I don't know much about what you went through, but being trapped in the sky doesn't sound that much different from being trapped underground. And something tell me you don't believe in perfection, either."

He returns the smile, leaning back into his chair with a low chuckle.

"I'm sorry if this is the wrong question to ask, kid. You don't have to answer if I'm prying." Sans taps out a soft beat against his own skull, scrutinizing her thoughtfully. "Are you human?"

She flashes a smile at Sans. "I think that if their safety measures were a little more up-to-date, I wouldn't need to work so hard and bare my secrets over a hospital bed." A cloud passes over her expression as she seems to consider the repercussions of what she's told him. She doesn't believe in perfection, she doesn't believe she can be perfect considering all of the mistakes she's made in the past. Considering the abilities she once had and what they had cost her.

"As human as they come, I suppose," she says with a faint chuckle. "Just different." And that's all she'll elaborate on for the moment.

"Sans... I don't like to talk about what happened to me before I arrived here. Especially now that I've received this promotion. I can imagine what people might think of my ability if they thought I was some... sheltered, self-taught know-it-all. What I've mentioned-- can we keep it between us?"

"Different's all it takes sometimes." Not a month prior, he'd had a similar conversation with Papyrus. If it were up to him, Sans would never cloud Papyrus' optimism with dour meditations on the dangers of being different. Unfortunately, their time on the Moira didn't give him the choice. As kind as humans could be, they weren't all like Elizabeth.

"Of course." Sans answers quickly, readily. If there's one thing he's good at in this world, it's keeping a secret. "Consider it forgotten."

Yeah, 'different' was all it took.

'Different', in this case, referred to her ability to rip open holes in reality and kill people with tornadoes or turrets, but if she'd abused it that might have been a reason to treat her so shamefully. Just existing with it, never being taught how to use it or why, had led to her fighting back.

She sits back in her chair, clearly relieved, and nods faintly with a little smile. "Thank you, Sans." She lets that hang for a moment, watching Papyrus.

"Would you want to help bridge the gap?"

Vague words are better than specific ones, in Sans' opinion. Safety exists in the space between words, and the larger that space the safer you are. Hard to make trouble for a person you can't pin down.

And as friendly as Elizabeth is, Sans isn't about to toss out that particular life philosophy. So he smiles, as he always does, and brings a hand over his brother's.

"Yeah, if it gives my people a seat at the table. Though I'll be honest, you'd be best off asking after Tori. Er, Toriel." Sans corrects himself. "She's our queen, after all. Kinda has the diplomacy thing down pat."

"Toriel... Oh! Tall woman, extremely mother-like, horns and ears shaped like a goat's? Yes I've met her," Elizabeth says with a pleased smile, remembering the meeting with great fondness. Clearly Toriel made a good impression on Elizabeth, despite being almost twice her size and not-human.

"I had no idea she was a queen-- she never mentioned anything about it."

Not that there was a good moment to do so during the conversation, so she puts that aside for a moment.

"If you think she might be open to the idea, I'll happily contact her."

"She wouldn't. I think, technically, she wouldn't really consider herself one anymore." No need to go into her messy divorce -- that's Toriel's story to tell and, as far as Sans is concerned, didn't impact her regal status.

"N' I dunno how she'd feel exactly, but I know she'd be good at it. Toriel would do anything to protect the monsters and humans on this ship, that much I guarantee."

The same could not be said for him, and Sans is sure Elizabeth knows that.

"Then she sounds like someone I should schedule a meeting with. If anything, it would be a start to bridging this gap we apparently have. And we can prevent it from getting wider, too, before something happens that we can't predict and all hell breaks loose."

She sighs heavily, trying to let all of that go now that she has a lead on the next step. "Have you been reading to him? I brought some new things that just came in..." she says, reaching for her bag.

Sans is about to murmur in agreement when the subject change drives some new energy into his exhausted bones. He leans forward in the chair a little, eager.

"Uh, not really from books, I've just been reciting the ones I already know." From endless, enthusiastic retellings stretching back to when Papyrus was just a baby bones. "Can I see?"

"Of course!" Elizabeth pulls her bag onto her lap. "This one is probably the most interesting-- Two Minute Mysteries!" She holds up a thin book, grinning enthusiastically. "You read about a page and a half of text, and then it asks a question at the end. Like who the killer is, where something was hidden... and the answer can be worked out from the evidence in the two pages. I thought it would be great for you two to do together," she hands over the book and dives back into the bag.

"And, in case you both wanted something a little longer, you both strike me as the type for stories about swashbuckling and pirates--" she holds up Treasure Island with another grin. "It's one of my favorites."

"Sorta like a puzzle? Man... yeah, Pap will..."

Sans can't quite help it, he looks downright bowled over, voice trailing off. The guilt is still there, heady and hard to swallow. He put his brother in danger. Hell, if things had gone any worse, he might've put the crew in danger. But here was Elizabeth, essentially a bridge between the crew and the captains, in charge of their safety, giving his little brother books.

Not just any books, either. Books he'll love. Books Sans can't wait to show him.

Emotion isn't a thing Sans shows often, or ever, and now is no exception. Still. There's a warmth to his voice he's never had occasion to use with Elizabeth. Not out of dislike, but out of rarity.

"Thank you."

She's been the librarian on the Moira for many months now, and so Elizabeth can tell when a book recommendation has gained traction. It's one of her favorite parts of her job, seeing that spark of excitement, so she seems as warm and enthusiastic as Sans does.

"I love recommending things that I think someone will enjoy. It seemed important to do now more than ever, given you two are a little stuck here for a while," she says with a sympathetic smile. "I hope you and Papyrus like them, let me know if you need anything more and I'll bring it over. But I should probably get back to it." Her job, that is.

"Heh, yeah. Sorry for keeping you." That said, he doesn't sound that sorry. Gratitude is a better word for it. Laying the books down in a messy stack next to Papyrus's bed, he deigns to get up from out of his chair. His bones creak a little more than they probably should. Sans lost track of how long he's been sitting a while ago.

Still, it seems right to stand. Never much for ceremony, no, but Sans didn't mind observing it if the person in question seemed deserving.

"Thanks again." He held out his hand, offering to help her up. "I'll tell Pap you stopped by once he wakes up."

"Oh no, I was glad we had a chance to chat," she says, also as more of a pleasantry than an actual reassurance. Elizabeth takes Sans' hand and stands, putting her other hand on top in a warm gesture.

"Tell him I'll be thinking of him and hoping for a quick recovery." She casts a glance at the chairs and then smiles back at Sans. "And maybe fetch a cushion for yourself next time you're up, hm?"

"Heh, I'll keep that in mind." It'd do his coccyx some good, at least. Letting her hand go, he sits back down, picking up Treasure Island and flipping through to the first place. Swashbuckling, action, adventure -- even if Papyrus can't hear him, he's sure his brother will appreciate it anyway.

"I owe you one." He looks up, eyelights dimming slightly as his voice takes on a more serious edge. "So, if you need a favor, you've got my number."

A favor could always come in handy, of course, and for a moment Elizabeth considers nodding and tucking that potential treasure away...

But she smiles and pats Sans' shoulder gently. "I gave up debt collection. Just tell me how he likes it, and I'll be happy enough."

With another little reassuring pat, she heads out of the med bay.

Only after she turns her back does Sans allow his smile to fall by a few degrees. A crease dips between his brow bone, thoughtful.

Hm.

[Open] working your fingers to the bones, cause nobody loves you when you're gone

I'M SO SORRY FOR LOSING THIS THREAD AHHH

IT'S COOL MAN 8D

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