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

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

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! ]

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She tries not to grip his hand too tightly, tries not to hurt him. Aw, but that's the one thing you're good at!

She focuses on him. If she can do that, the other one should fade. He doesn't, but-- That doesn't matter.

"Everything," she manages, voice shaking, "Everything, Sans-- Sans, nothing changed. Miles said you would come back, he said you would just like the others, but--" How to explain that she's been living with a shadow of him, a gore soaked nightmare?

"Sit down." He doesn't mean it to come off commanding, but it does anyway. The more words Lara piles on, hinting at a reality Sans guessed at but never wanted to fathom, the more his focus narrows. He's got two choices -- shut down, or take some semblance of charge.

It's a credit to their closeness that Sans, for once, opts to put in effort instead.

"One, two, breathe." He instructs, guiding her down to the edge of the hallway. It's a little silly, maybe, sitting in the middle of the hall like this, but Sans hardly seems concerned. He does this all the time, after all. "If you pass out on me I'm not gonna have the faintest idea what to do, kiddo."

She does as he says, sitting down and breathing and clinging to his hand a little bit. More than a little, honestly. The pun draws a small ghost of a smile out of her, earning her a derisive laugh from the red tinged skeleton behind Sans.

What, so his dusty jokes, you like? That's cold, Lara.

Her eyes flicker, briefly, to Not-Sans and then back to the real one. "I'm all right. It's all right."

It is very demonstrably not all right and Sans can probably tell just by looking at her. She has at least started sleeping slightly more than she was before, but still less than she probably needs and the strain of the constant hallucinations are starting to wear on her.

"I missed you," she adds, without thinking, tears slipping down her cheeks again.

Human eyes were interesting. Sans isn't sure how they walk around with them half the time, telling so many stories with flickers and twitches. Pupils dilate, eyelids quiver, they dart to the most important thing in a room when a threat is made.

And Lara's... Lara's are scaring him.

"Heh, not gonna lie, I'm kinda relieved to hear that." Slinging an arm around her, he let his own eyelights drift towards where Lara was last staring. Nothing. Not even any distracting imperfections in the wall. Hm. "Look, I know... shit."

Rubbing at his glabella, Sans tries to sort out his thoughts.

"I never meant for you to remember this. Any of it."

She leans right into him, relief mixing with exhaustion and left over threads of grief.

"I don't think that was ever your decision to make," she tells him quietly, watching the blood soaked Sans sneering at her, "I have a very good memory, unfortunately. And even if the world was... reset. Or written over. That doesn't undo what happened."

The Not-Sans' sneer turns nearly into a snarl. Poor, poor little girl. Got your skelepal back, but you're still gonna whine, whine all night. Is your ass ever jealous of the amount of shit that comes out of your mouth.

Lara's eyes narrow in a frown, a response on the tip of her tongue, but she bites it back.

It's possible, of course, that Lara is special somehow. She was intrinsically tied to Chara's murder, and to his. But then, so was Papyrus. So was Miles So were so many people, thanks to the drawn out trial process. Deja vu was part of the resets, and if she knew about them, then maybe...

No. It doesn't add up. Glimpses of feelings and emotions from past timelines was one thing, but to remember it all wholecloth...?

That train of thought is derailed by her sudden change in expression. Sans is a little guilty how quickly he pounces on it, but the distraction is more welcome than he cares to admit.

"--Are you okay?"

She almost laughs at the question, but stops herself. What escapes is a slightly choked noise, only vaguely similar to a laugh.

"I'm better than I was," she tells him and that is the honest truth. Seeing Sans again, the real Sans eases something painful in her chest. She's not sure she wants to tell him what she's seeing. Not-Sans is alternating between snarling and sneering, still looking disturbingly solid. "Who knows, I might actually sleep now."

Sans pulls a face, doing his best approximation of a frown. He lands closer to exhausted, with something akin to scolding creasing along his eye sockets.

"Thought so." he reaches out, extending a pinky in the direction of the dark circle hanging under her eyes like saddle bags. "Tch. Am I gonna have to start reading you bedtime stories, too?"

It's a feeble joke, but with the heaviness hanging between them -- a week of grief and a longer period of estrangement -- it's all Sans can think to say. He's been in her shoes before. The last thing he wants is to scare her back into her shell for good.

It's weak, but she smiles anyway.

"We could try it," she says, "I'm open to ideas." They're dancing around... Well, a lot of things. There's so much between them that hasn't really been said, hadn't needed to be said. Lara takes a breath and goes first: "I killed a lot of people before I came here. It was... I don't know. I don't know if I had another choice, but that sort of thing changes someone. And. When I met Chara, before--" She gestures slightly, before you killed them. "It was like meeting someone familiar. Someone you know but who's name you can't remember."

"You met them?"

He doesn't mean to blurt it out, but there's no stopping the words rising up into his skull like bile. Somehow that one detail manages to override her other confession, for just a moment, striking Sans with an instinctual fear. It was silly, really. Loads of people had met Chara. As far as he knew, Sans is the only one who wound up dead for it.

Lara was strong -- a human, and a Determined one at that.

One with a whole lot of LOVE.

Maybe that's why he couldn't bring himself to react with more than a tired sigh and a hand dragged down his skull. Somewhere, deep down, he already knew just how heavy her soul was with sins.

"Nevermind." He took a breath, ribs expanding and falling again in steadying patterns. When he spoke again, it was closer to his usual even keel. "Nevermind. I know--I know what you're trying to say. But they're not like you, Lara. You said it yourself. You didn't have the choices they had."

"I know. Or... I think that I know, but--" She shrugs a little helplessly, "It's self centered, but seeing someone you love kill someone you see yourself in. I don't know."

Oh, poor you, sneers Not-Sans, teeth bared in an expression that wasn't really a smile, You're just gonna whine whine whine all night. You ever get tired of talking about yourself, Lara? There's not that much there.

"And then there's him," Lara say, grimly nodding towards the sneering blood stained skeleton.

The words cut Sans harder than he imagined they would, and it takes him a beat to smile through them. She doesn't know, he reminds himself. She doesn't understand what they did. It's different.

She doesn't know what she's saying.

"Who?"

His voice comes out hoarse, looking towards where she gestures and seeing nothing.

"It's you." She's rather full of shocking reveals today. Lara sighs and rubs her eyes, "Or... It's not really you. It's a nightmare of you. His jokes aren't very funny."

That's what they said about your life, Lara, and yet here you are. One big joke.

"He isn't like the other ones I see," she says, ignoring the snarling skeleton, "He doesn't go away." Lara gives Sans a twisted, cracked approximation of a smile. "Sorry. This isn't much of a welcome back."

It's a lot to take in.

Hallucinations were at least charted territory here. Not too long ago, that's all Sans was to her -- a hallucination. Since then, Sans worked out a few more things. A little personal list, like one he kept on everyone in one lowkey way or another. Nightmares, trust issues, a pathological attraction to danger -- or maybe justice? Hard to know exactly where one started and the other began.

He'd had to add a whole new chapter to that list with these Chara revelations... or maybe he'd just pretend he never heard it. Yeah. That sounds better.

Hallucinations that didn't leave, those were new. That they were of him, well, less new. Or maybe completely new. He missed a lot, apparently.

"Heh... you're talkin' to me. That's a better welcome than I could've hope for. Or deserve." He nudged at her shoulder, affecting a casual curiosity. "So what am I saying?"

Edited 2016-03-02 08:42 (UTC)

She looks away from the other Sans to smile at him. It's tired and worn, but this one is genuine.

Don't you look away from me, Lara, I think I know your problem: you fear success! Well, don't worry, your dear dunkle is here to remind you there's no chance of you succeeding at anything.

She hesitates, glancing back to Not-Sans, sneering and snarling, prowling around like he could reach across and wrap his hands around her throat. The snarling smile widens, Now there's a thought. He points to her and then to Sans, Bet this guy can help with that. Line up one good shot, put you down for good.

Lara takes a careful breath, "Nothing. It's nothing."

The other Sans' laughter echoes a little in her ears.

That pause was too long. She's looking back again. Sans' eyes start to dim.

She's lying to him. Not a first, and not even something he takes offense over, but it's worrying. Not that guys like him should be throwing stones in the first place, but who doesn't indulge in a little hypocrisy when it comes to the people you love?

"Uh huh, I don't think so. C'mon, what are they saying." He peered around Lara's shoulder into the empty space. "Maybe I can cut through the double talk. Heh."

Her mouth tightens into a grim line. She wonders what would happen if she refused. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. She wonders, rather more morbidly, what would happen if she did...

Another careful breath and she tells him. Verbatim.

Sans listens, silent, while Lara recites back the words she's been fed. When he's sure she's done, he takes a skeletal approximation of a breath.

"Well, for one. That guy's nowhere near as funny as I am. You fear success? And least turn it into suck-cess or something. Amateur hour over here."

If there's anger boiling below his bones, it's hard to glimpse outside the slow dim of his eyes.

"Don't listen to bad stand up, kiddo. I know we haven't known each other too long, but I'm pulling the I raised you better than that card."

"All right," she says, voice steady and even before the pretense crumbles around her. She leans toward him, slowly so he can stop her if he wants. If not, she'll find herself pressing her face against his shoulder and immediately bursting into tears.

She feels a little ridiculous even as she does it, but it's secondary to the emotion ripping through her. Her father, Roth and then Sans... No one had ever come back before.

Edited 2016-03-02 09:59 (UTC)

It's a surprise, but the quiet sort. When you wait around for ice to thaw, you sometimes wait long enough to wonder if it's ever going to.

The position can't be very comfortable, bone cushioned by a few thin layers of Moira uniform, but Sans reaches a hand up reflexively to complete the circuit. When Papyrus was a kid, there were times like this, when things were lean and the his little brother needed him. Really needed him. No matter how much Sans insisted being useless was easier, and no matter how hard he believed it, there was something nice about that part -- the being needed part.

Squeezing her tighter, rubbing her back, this felt different and the same all at once.

"We'll fix it, alright? I'm back now, we can figure this out together."

It's not especially comfortable, but then, she's been worse off. And it's different when it's someone you care about. She cries quietly after the first few heavy sobs, shoulders shaking under his hand. It tapers off entierly soon enough and she leans back, scrubbing at her face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lose it like that," she says, rubbing away the few tears that are still dripping down, but she's smiling a little despite it.

"Lose what?" Sans asks, before realizing just how many unfortunately apt answers there were to that question. Marbles comes to mind. "Actually, don't answer that. We'll figure this out, kid. I know there's... a lot to work through, but we'll figure it out."

He wraps his arm a little tighter around her.

"We're both gonna be okay. Or we will be."

"Yes, we will be." She doesn't know if that's true, but she thinks it's a promise she can keep. She lets herself lean against him a while longer, the Not-Sans having, somehow impossibly, faded in the distance.

It's a tentative peace. One that's disturbed by a question suddenly at the forefront of her mind. "It scared you that I remembered you."

This is nice. Sans enjoys this quiet -- a pause in the action for Sans to collect his thoughts, or rather, to leave his thoughts scattered for a little while longer. There's a comfort in that. With everything strewn in different places, it's easy to pretend there isn't much to sort through.

The break doesn't last long.

"... Yeah, I guess it did. More for your sake, though. Don't read too much into it, sweetheart."

"Sans." There's a little steel in her voice. Not the same rage as the last time they spoke, but still, she's not going to let him put her off this time.

Evasions are the same as lies and if she doesn't get to hide behind her defenses... Neither does he.

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

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html can bite me tbh

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