[open] do you know why the body is a prison?

[skelepun]

Who: Sans and YOU! Open to literally everyone
When: Between this and the final judgment call on this.
Where: The Hold.
What: There's a skeleton in the dungeon, come let him rattle his bones at u
Warnings: Probably some mention of murder/death/etc! But mostly pretty tame, I imagine. Will edit if that changes.


The hold was incredible. Three solid walls, one semi-solid wall, a bench-bed hybrid that wrecked havoc on his back, and all the down time a skeleton could ask for. It was perfect. The best vacation he's ever had.

It'll be a real bummer once all of it goes away again.

Whatever the kid is up to, they're biding their time. And the few times a stray unpleasant thought passed through his skull, Sans is able to wave them away easily enough. He didn't care for thinking about Chara's dead body, so he didn't think about it. The worrying notion that, perhaps, this reality experienced time differently from what he knew...

Again: not thinking about it. The perfect cure, really.

Of course, he couldn't exactly stop people from visiting him here. With news spreading throughout the ship of what happened, more and more people were reaching out to him with why spelled out across their furrowed brows. Sans wished he could help them, sincerely. It would be a load off both their minds.

Too bad the answer was just too damn huge.

( ooc: feel free to visit sans in the hold any time, either before or after your character has 'cast their vote (or not)' on his fate. woo! )

Comments

[gainedlove]

[Frisk can feel something heavy settle in their stomach, an ill feeling of dread and certainty twisting their gut. They know just how hopeless things had seemed back home to Chara, how much they had wanted to lash out at something in frustration and rage. The pieces are clicking together one by one, no matter how much Frisk wishes the answer was something less, something that didn't feel like such a betrayal to all they had done until now.]

I-I...I have...I have to know. I...

[They duck their head, swallowing and trying to not start bawling on the spot.]

I can't remember and...and they wouldn't tell me...

[skelepun]

[So, they were different. The realization strips some of the coldness from Sans' voice, but replaces it immediately with hesitance. Whatever the game is, whatever they're playing together, there's a duality there. Sans isn't sure if he should feel relieved or worried.

He settles on 'apprehensive.']

Everyone, kid. It was everyone. Granted, Asgore, Alphys, and her crew of evacuees were still alive when they cut me to dust, but I got the feeling they didn't last much longer.

... At least, I'm gonna guess that was them. They looked a lot more like you, but somethin' tells me looks are deceiving me again.

[gainedlove]

[Frisk doesn't remember falling to heir knees, the way their legs crumple underneath their body and their shoulders bow under the sudden weight of a loss they never truly felt. All they know is very suddenly they're on the floor, their limbs numb as they stare at Sans in wide-eyed shock.]

[Everyone. Everyone had...]

[Frisk remembers Chara pointing out the Temmies all running down that near-invisible path. They remember Chara laughing at Lesser Dog reaching the heavens and coming back down just to get more love. They remember giggling about a spooked seahorse, a blob that wanted to eat the stars, an onion that wanted to start a band.]

[Why? Why did Chara take that all away?]

[Frisk can't speak, can barely think past that sharp and horrible grief rising up and threatening to drown them, pull them deep into a lonely abyss they already tied to die to escape. All they can do is stare at Sans with tears streaming down their face, and silently beg him to tell them it's all a horrible joke, to make everything right again.]

[skelepun]

[The reaction is enough to split Sans' instincts down the middle -- half of him wary of deception, the other instinctively urged to comfort. It's an uncomfortable balancing act and with every new cry, Sans finds himself tipping one way, then the other...

In the end, he falls on the side of comfort -- despite how stiff and mechanical it feels in his mouth.]

Kid... breath. [Separated by bars, Sans feels wholly ill-equipped to helping the kid actually follow his advice.] Count to ten and breathe.

[gainedlove]

[It's hard, through the sobs and hiccups that shake their small body, but after a few false starts Frisk's head bows and their arms wrap around their middle as they try to get themself back under control. Once, twice...the third breath manages to not hitch at the end, and the shaking dies down by a little.]

I...I...

[It hurts. Their heart feels like it's going to twist in two, as if it could shatter right there on the spot from the weight of everything. Frisk whimpers and curls up even tighter, trying yet again to turn time back, to RESET and at least attempt to make things better.]

I can't...S-Sans, it won't...I can't go back!

[skelepun]

[Watching the child twist and turn with effort is... unsettling. Sans felt caught between wanting to reach through the bars to comfort them and glowering from the other side of his cell.

Once again, comforting wins out. He doesn't go as far as reaching through the bars, but he at least positions himself alongside them.]

No... didn't think so. [Not with the other child here. In those timelines he observed, there was one constant -- an anomaly. One anomaly. Even in a timeline like this one, where several were converging on top of each other, Sans imagined that constant remained the same.] M'afraid it's out of both our hands, kid.

[gainedlove]

[Frisk looks up, slowly, through the sniffles and hiccups, and when Sans settles by the bars they shakily get up to move closer as well, curling up again with their knees pulled tight against their chest.]

But...I-I have to. I can't...it's my job, I-I gotta make it...right...

[But even a RESET won't erase the pain, will it? They always remember something, even if it's only in fragments that never make sense. The flash of recognition in Toriel's eyes, the way Sans pauses sometimes when he introduces himself...they could swear each timeline makes Undyne's expression a little bit softer.]

I'm so sorry...

[skelepun]

[It's hard to get over the dissonance. Their souls are different, Sans knows that. Their hearts are different. And it's with that in mind that Sans doesn't shrink away from the child's contact.]

Yeah, says who? [His voice is insistent, but kind. Kinder than Frisk's had the occasion to hear from him.] Who made it your job, me? Papyrus?

[gainedlove]

[They're not quite bold enough yet to reach for Sans through the bars, but Frisk does lean against them, their head knocking into one with a dull thud. They're quiet for a moment, trying to find the answer to his question in their memories.]

[Had anyone told them? There was that pressure, that urge every time they woke in the Ruins, but Frisk barely even notices it now. It's just...part of who they are.]

...it always was. Ever since I fell. I just...I'm supposed to SAVE everyone. [For all that they believe it to the core of their SOUL, Frisk still sound somewhat lost when they admit that.] No one else can.

[skelepun]

[There's a silence that stretches onto the borders of too long before Sans finally speaks. It's not a happy cast coloring his voice.]

Yeah, well... I got some bad news for you, kid. There are some people you just can't save.

[gainedlove]

['just give up. i did.']

[Frisk's gaze slides back up to his own, pity and understanding and a quiet, barely hidden misery coloring their weary expression.]

I gotta try. Even if it hurts.

[skelepun]

[Sans is silent for a long time, not looking at Frisk so much as looking past them.

Eventually, the silence is broken by a chuckle.]

Heh, y'know kid... I really don't get you.

[gainedlove]

[Frisk's gaze slowly lowers against, and they pull their knees tighter against their chest, ducking their head to let their hair hide their face from sight. The sniffles start up again, and when they speak it nearly comes out a sob.]

...why?

[skelepun]

S'complicated.

[Sans leaned his head against the bar, a faint tink of bone meeting metal echoing through the cell.]

... Don't you have anywhere better to be, kiddo?

[gainedlove]

[They look up again at the sound, and Sans's question rattles around in their mind. Is there somewhere else they should be? It's so hard to think past the buzzing pressure of grief and hurt, a confusing kettle of emotion that makes Frisk just want to curl up and hide.]

[There's only one answer that makes sense right now.] ...I wanna go back.

[skelepun]

To your room?

[It's not the right answer. Sans knows that. It's clear he knows that, from the level look in his eyesockets. And it's doubly clear that there's no going back, not to where Frisk wants to go.

He's already walked that line himself, too many times.]

You're free to, kiddo. Nothing keeping you here.

[gainedlove]

[It's a slow thing, the way their expression crumples. Bit by bit the strength falls away, and the ache in their chest becomes so painful Frisk can barely breathe. It's not fair...it's not fair at all! Why does it have to end like this? With everyone dead, Sans hurting, and Chara...]

[Frisk curls up again, their head pressing tightly to their knees as their quiet sobs fill the silent room. But one arm unwinds uncertainly from their legs and reaches through the bars blindly for Sans, desperate for some form of support.]

[skelepun]

Kid...

[Sans felt the scrabble of a small hand against his jacket and a fresh wave of fresh exhaustion rolled over him. There's a neediness there, a desire for something Sans couldn't place or even give.]

Quit torturing yourself, alright? [He meant that, too.] Go find my bro, he'll be psyched to see you.

[gainedlove]

[That tight grip on his jacket trembles, then falls slack as the tiny hand drops to the floor between them. Sniffles and hiccups shakes Frisk's shoulders, and it's a few moments before they find the strength to push themself back up to their feet.]

[They don't dare to look at Sans right now--Frisk knows what he must think of them, and they can't take seeing that on top of everything else. With their arms wrapped around their middle, the small child slowly makes their way back out of the hold without a single look back.]