[There's a strange double-vision that hits Sans first, not unlike a moment on the Moira that felt as if it could've been a hundred years ago or merely yesterday. A familiar silouette, positioned against the observation deck's vast slanted windows. In that moment, the figure could've been anyone. In that moment, Sans felt fear.
In this moment, Sans feels...
What does he feel?
This figure isn't anyone. The moment they open their mouth, offering their halting instructions, Sans knows precisely who it was he was meeting. It wasn't the one he intended to run across -- they had others watching for them, ones that stood a chance of penetrating the surprisingly thick armor their locket provided -- and yet it was the one fate had unfurled for him.
Then again, fate wasn't exactly a friend of his these days.]
Kid! [It's not a question, more an aggravated warning -- something that might be followed up with I've got this if it weren't for the fact that he so clearly, blatantly did not. As such, the warning dies between his teeth, and Sans takes the only path apparent to him: following instructions.
With a quick scrabble, Sans slides deeper into the alcove, gathering his energy and magic. The child was something to watch -- wild and uncoordinated in their movements -- overwhelming their lack of power with sheer overwhelming ferocity.
... It was something they had in common, at the end of the day.
Summoning what little magic Sans had to expend, a large skull slowly takes shape below the phantasm's head. Its muzzle is pressed flush against the underside of the figmant's jaw, magic gathering after a beat of pause.]
no subject
In this moment, Sans feels...
What does he feel?
This figure isn't anyone. The moment they open their mouth, offering their halting instructions, Sans knows precisely who it was he was meeting. It wasn't the one he intended to run across -- they had others watching for them, ones that stood a chance of penetrating the surprisingly thick armor their locket provided -- and yet it was the one fate had unfurled for him.
Then again, fate wasn't exactly a friend of his these days.]
Kid! [It's not a question, more an aggravated warning -- something that might be followed up with I've got this if it weren't for the fact that he so clearly, blatantly did not. As such, the warning dies between his teeth, and Sans takes the only path apparent to him: following instructions.
With a quick scrabble, Sans slides deeper into the alcove, gathering his energy and magic. The child was something to watch -- wild and uncoordinated in their movements -- overwhelming their lack of power with sheer overwhelming ferocity.
... It was something they had in common, at the end of the day.
Summoning what little magic Sans had to expend, a large skull slowly takes shape below the phantasm's head. Its muzzle is pressed flush against the underside of the figmant's jaw, magic gathering after a beat of pause.]
Watch yourself.
[3... 2... 1...]