in the words of thomas jefferson, "what'd i miss?"

[skelepun]

Who: Sans & YOU
When: The 24th, spanning from early in the morning to the evening
Where: All around the ship
What: Sans is back! It is unclear to him at this point what "back" means, both for him and for everyone else.
Warnings: Alcohol (er, well, ketchup, but y'know), Undertale spoilers out the wazoo

Groggy doesn't begin to describe. Sans knows groggy, like any guy who spends most of his life exactly that. No, this feels as if someone methodically stuffed his skull with cotton until it was fit to crack.

In other words, he has a headache.

Rolling up out of (bed? If it was, it looked more clinical than comfortable) wherever he was, Sans took a moment to take stock of his surroundings. For one, he wasn't dead. Guess the kid finally reset after all, and further back than he expected. To that point, there are his memories to consider. Much like the first time he awoke after death on the Moira, his memories were all exactly where he left them. The feeling of disintegrating, the indescribable expression on the kid's face, the slice of their knife...

No, not knife. Cup. It was a cup this time. Heh. What a way to go.

Yawning, Sans shakes out the last of his stiffness. One of the upsides to losing your memories each reset was blending in. When your brain simply reloaded, it knew exactly what to do and where to be. Like this, Sans has no idea what day it is, let alone if he's got a mess duty or not.

And people wonder why he takes such relish in laziness. It makes for great cover when the world decides to rewind and leave you stranded.

Papyrus would know -- he always knows exactly where Sans is supposed to be and how late he is getting there. With a bounce in his step, Sans steps outside with the intention of finding his brother.

closed to papyrus; outside cryo

He doesn't have to look very far.

"... Bro?"

Papyrus is parked outside the cryo lab, deliriously going over a puzzle book. The page he's on appears to have already been solved... twice? No, three times. Incorrectly, correctly, and then incorrectly again. Huh. For once, his little brother's superior perception seems at a loss -- he doesn't appear to notice Sans' presence at all.

Leaning against a wall, Sans is content to watch for a while -- though his smile can't help tightening when he notices just how out of sorts Papyrus looks.

"Figure out this page many more times and you'll need an upgrade to the senior scramble, bro."

ota; around cryo/halls/nomo deck

Parting ways with his brother, Sans rubs at his eye socket. The exchange was... bizarre, even for the two of them. All the component parts were right, but they wouldn't fit together. His brother scolded him for his laziness, encouraged him to shake a leg to work, talked at length about his exploits around the ship...

All together, it should be normal. But then Sans thinks about how he fell asleep right there against the wall, how tired he looked before that, how bone deep his exhaustion seemed to penetrate, and it's not right. Something happened, and Papyrus isn't telling him. Then again, he didn't ask. They really were the poster children of talking about their feelings, weren't they.

Hands shoved deep in his pockets, brow bone furrowed deep in thought, Sans makes his way in the direction of his room. Maybe he could find some answers there about where the reset spat him out...

closed to miles; his office

Welp.

Welp.

Sans doesn't bother mincing words. He doesn't bother walking, either, teleporting with careless agility. It's a miracle he doesn't wind up in another wall.

"Miles!" He barks, in a tone entirely unlike any Miles (or, well, most people) has heard from him. "I know you're in there, I can hear you being smug from out here."

closed to roomies; nomo deck

It couldn't have been more than half a day since Sans woke up. Revived? Jeez, this was a mess. And despite reality, it feels like thirty years by the time Sans drags himself into his bedroom. It's cleaner than he remembers. But then again, why wouldn't it be, his roommates have had more than enough time to adjust to life without him. Won't they be disappointed.

No, that was mean. Sans takes a moment to regard his bunk. Someone went to the trouble of making it (by who, he can't be sure -- well, no, he's sure it wasn't J), and Sans feels a tinge of regret as he promptly messes it up again.

One veggie burrito, heavy on the calcium, coming right up.

ota; gardens

Things don't really start to sink in until he looks his blueprints. Even then, they don't sink so much as tie an anchor around his middle and hurl him overboard.

He needs to be alone.

A step, a quick calculation, and he gets his wish.

The tree in the garden is tall, but Sans never appreciated how tall until finding himself perched at the top of its canopy. The trees are sparse and thin enough up here to be dangerous, but Sans doesn't weigh much to begin with. And even if they did snap, would it matter?

It would, his mind reminds him, it would matter more than it has in a long, long time.

No, Sans decides. He's not going to think about that. He's going to go through all the tree jokes he knows until he's either laughing or asleep.

What did the tree wear to the pool party? Swimming trunks.

(There are no resets. There might never be another reset.)

What did the beaver say to the tree? It's been nice gnawing ya.

(Time marches on here, with or without you -- no, with you, because they'll keep bringing you back and taking pieces until there's nothing left. No more do-overs, not for you, or him, or them, or anyone.)

How do you identify a dogwood tree? By its bark.

(You can't afford not to care anymore, but do you even remember how to care? To really try?)

Why did the tree get a timeout? It was being knotty.

"Heh... knotty." Sans chuckles from on high, oblivious to anyone below his perch. "Gotta use that."

[ ooc: i'll match action or prose, gimme whatcha got! ]

Comments

[coolskeletonnyehntyfive]

Miles had told Papyrus Sans would be here whenever he came back from his power nap, and he'd checked in several times a day out of impatience. When Sans had finally appeared, a full day or so before actually waking up, he'd decided to camp out nearby and wait for him. This had been an impressively long time out even for him, and he was sure to be disoriented. After all, someone had to be the responsible brother, right?

Papyrus normally ran on very little sleep and had energy to spare, but after close to a week of constantly keeping himself moving, distracted, busy, he finally understands what people mean about feeling worn down to the bone. Physically, mentally, he's burnt out. He'd brought a stack of puzzle books to whittle away some of the time, but he'd been stuck on the same word scramble for... he has no idea how long anymore. Letters swim into each other, creating bizarre new hieroglyphics he tries to solve anyway. His brain keeps catching on the same collection of letters, reading them over and over in an exhausted loop, until a familiar voice snaps him out of it.

He lifts his skull and even through his apparent weariness, he grins at the sight of his brother standing around making his usual jokes. Not dusted, not fallen and gone forever, but here and normal and...

"SANS!" Puzzle forgotten, he drops the book and leaps to his feet. "There you are! I... I mean, it's..." There are still some things he doesn't want to talk about, even if the hurt attached to them just became completely irrelevant, and he changes tack. "You absolute, unforgivable lazybones!" Yes, that sounds right. Throw in the petulant footstomping, and it's just like old times. "Where have you been?"

[skelepun]

There's a moment, just a moment, where something seems off. A moment where the wobbly energy in Papyrus' movements feels born of desperation, not his usual eagerness. It's not a look Sans is used to seeing on his baby brother, and it's jarring enough to make him consider asking if everything's okay, until...

"Heh." Shrugging, bashful, Sans allows himself to plunge back into the familiar waters of Papyrus' bombastic disappointment. "Sorry, bro, guess my nap got away from me. You didn't wait up for me too long, didja?"

[coolskeletonnyehntyfive]

"Urgh!" Another stomp for good measure. It felt good. Natural. He can't believe he was starting to forget how nice it was to be angry at Sans's ever-present apathy. "Long enough! You ought to apologize to your coworkers for sticking them with garbage detail all this time!"

Papyrus stoops to gather his little pile of books, and it takes him a bit longer than it normally would. He should probably rest a bit now that Sans is here and everything's going to be okay again, but someone should catch him up, right? He walked in space, he took Frisk to a cool lantern show, and he still sort of wants to yell at him about being industrious enough to hide garbage in the cargo bay but not dispose of it properly. There's so much to talk about, but he doesn't know where to start.

[skelepun]

Sans watches with growing concern as Papyrus makes long work of collecting himself. One book grasped, another slips out of his uncharacteristically clumsy grip. Fumbling, unsteady, teetering... none of them words Sans would use to describe his brother.

But there's really no other way to detail what he's witnessing.

"Hey, hey." Headache temporarily forgotten, Sans stoops down alongside Papyrus to help him. "You okay? You seem kinda..."

Weird.

"Tired."

[coolskeletonnyehntyfive]

"Balderdash! The great Papyrus doesn't get tired! In fact, I have had a very productive time lately." Despite his words, he teeters back a little once he finally straightens up, holding onto his books carefully so they don't fall and repeat the frustrating process. "I got plenty of work done while you were off being lazy as usual!"

[skelepun]

"Yeah?"

Sans shifts his weight, vertebrae hitting the hallway wall as he takes a seat. It's a subtle motion, but in it is a wordless invitation for Papyrus to do the same.

"Why don't you tell me all about it."

[coolskeletonnyehntyfive]

Papyrus considers lecturing him about loitering like that in the hallway like that, but reconsiders. He did the same thing himself maybe a day or so ago with Frisk, and as frustrated as Sans's behavior made him sometimes, it was nice to have him here to be irritated by at all.

Still, he can't let it go without at least commenting. It wouldn't be right.

"Resting already! You really are shameless, you know that?" Papyrus settled down next to him, still hugging the puzzle books to himself. "I, on the other hand, worked very hard! My boss had a lot of tasks for me, and a long-eared child taught me how to use a human weapon, and Frisk and I walked in space and saw a great many lanterns released into it! To say nothing of my usual duties. You missed out!"

[skelepun]

To most people, hearing a list that long might raise some alarm bells of how long they were actually asleep. To Sans, it's pretty par for the course. Papyrus always managed to pack the most into every day, ever since he was a kid. The rambling account of his activities is enough to calm the rising unease in Sans' ribs.

"Lanterns? Someone having a party or something?"

[coolskeletonnyehntyfive]

"Well, yes and no! You see, there were people on another ship celebrating a very nice holiday of theirs, and they invited us to join." He lowered his gaze to the floor for just a moment. "I was hoping you'd be awake for it, but Frisk was excellent company. We stood on the observation deck and watched as they filled the night with hundreds of lights. Look, I took pictures!"

He pulls them up on his MID -- they might not be as good as actually being there, but in between goofy selfies there are loads of decent shots of lanterns twinkling in space, impressive in the moments before they separate and float off into the darkness.

[skelepun]

Okay, now a few alarm bells were sounding. Sans swipes through the pictures, trying to place the date. MIDs aren't so great at that, unfortunately, and when you're on a space ship time of day can feel pretty arbitrary.

How long was he out for? Or maybe Papyrus was just referring to a completely different nap he couldn't recall? Man, if this is the way resets were going to go, Sans isn't relishing the inevitable repeat.

"Wow..." Distractions momentarily set aside, Sans takes a moment to actually look at the pictures. Even the blurry ones have a certain austere beauty to them. It makes Sans feel nostalgic, somehow. "Kinda wish you woke me up for this. You have a good time?"

[coolskeletonnyehntyfive]

"I would have, but you were being particularly stubborn about it this time!" Namely, the part were Sans didn't, technically, exist again yet at that point. Not that Papyrus was being particularly forthcoming on that point. He'd brightened up somewhat while showing Sans the pictures, but with the distraction gone, weariness was already creeping back in. "And yes, it was fun, but we should probably stop hanging around in the hallway like an unruly couple of delinquents!"


Despite his words, he makes no attempt to move. It feels like there are weights on his legs and shoulders, and he's starting to realize he could honestly fall asleep right here.

Is this how Sans feels all the time?

[skelepun]

"We probably should." Sans nods, mirroring Papyrus's complete inaction. Despite himself, and his fierce commitment to perpetual exhaustion, Sans feels almost peppy. His nap did the trick for once, apparently. From how Papyrus' skull jerks upright every thirty seconds or so, his brother isn't so lucky.

Is this how Papyrus feels all the time?

"There sure are a lot of 'em." Sans' tone shifts imperceptibly from thoughtful to sly. "Wonder how many."

Putting a bony finger to the MID's holographic display, Sans begins to count, his voice low and droning: One... two... three... four...

[coolskeletonnyehntyfive]

That gets a murmur of protest from Papyrus. He's already struggling not to nod off, and it'd be embarrassing to be caught napping in the middle of the hallway, but Sans is using his softer bedtime story voice and everything that was forcing him to stay awake this long is no longer relevant. Sans is back, he doesn't have to think about being lonely or dealing with hurt or loss anymore, and little by little, his skull droops lower.

Sans is barely in the double digits before Papyrus starts snoring softly, fingers still loosely clinging to his puzzle books.

[skelepun]

Fifty six... eighty nine... a thousand...

Sans stops, turning his head to look over at his brother. The Great Papyrus, slumped over in an empty hallway while he dozed. Maybe the guy took after him more than he realized.

... With that disconcerting thought behind him, Sans shucks off his jacket (wait, not his jacket, another one?) and drapes it around Papyrus' front. It's hardly a suitable blanket, but it's cozy enough to make Sans briefly consider joining him.

Instead, Sans snaps a quick picture with his MID. Gyftmas came early this year, and Santa brought him enough blackmail material to keep him nag-free for a week.

After tapping his teeth against Papyrus' skull with an indulgent little click, Sans turns and begins the long walk back to the Nomo Deck. If he's lucky, maybe he'll stop pondering on how unnerving it is to see Papyrus asleep in the middle of the day.

Maybe.