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

[swaddledog]

"I don't have anything to lose and revenge can be cathartic." Spoken like someone who really knows a thing about revenge. Sans seemed like he had lots of friends and loved ones. He's friendly and sociable. Furiosa didn't really have anyone. Still, she'd accept his wishes grudgingly, and she bobs her head in a silent concession to that.

"The garden is beautiful, but it's busy. If you want to be alone, any time, my War Rig is in the cargo bay. If you crawl slightly beneath the tanker there's a hidden living quarters. No one will go looking for you there."

Honestly, she doesn't know why she's extending the offer. He still weirds her out.

"You'll know what's mine when you see it. There's a skeleton arm painted on the left door--" Sans might actually realize it's a joke poking fun at the fact she's missing her left arm. "--and human skulls... on most of it." Not a joke.

[skelepun]

"Are you sure you don't have some skeleton lineage? You decorate your stuff the same way my brother does. Nothing like a good bone aesthetic to brighten up a room. Or a car. It's an automatic success, hehe..."

He's joking, but it's aimless and ultimately fizzles out quick. In part because he's almost certain a woman like Furiosa does not drive an automatic.

"But, y'know... thanks. For the offer. Might take you up on it. Kinda hard to find your own space in this place, which is pretty ironic, considering we are quite literally in space." Picking at the gaps between his carpals, Sans' grin widens. "For the record though, if that's true what you said, the bit about not having anything to lose? I'd fix that as soon as you can. That's a dangerous way to be."

[swaddledog]

Automatic cars aren't able to function in the sands, but she's seen the shell of them before the Repair Boys had pulled them apart for scrap and parts. It does get a small smile out of her.

"Lineage? Huh. On the inside, I do have a skeleton."

Her eyes turn down, then away. She's not an open person. It was much easier that way. Coping with things that happen to people -- and things always do -- is easier when she doesn't care. She doesn't make friends. She doesn't have family. Furiosa reaches up, then gingerly touches the scar of the brand on the back of her neck and her voice softens.

"It's a bit too late for me, bone guy. Before the Ingress, I was in the service of a warlord named Immortan Joe. I've done a lot of... bad things because I had to..."

[skelepun]

"I know." Sans says, reflexively. It's a sign of his comfort that he doesn't go back on his words, either, even if a small kernel of regret at being so open is already starting at the base of his ribs. "... That is, I know what your soul tells me, anyway. Lots of sins there."

He shouldn't be doing this, but hell. She caught him on an extraordinarily exhausted day, and one where he's feeling extremely off balance. Breaking free of a timeloop that's stolen more years of your life than you care to count will do that to a guy.

"But lemme tell you something. There's a big difference between had to and want to. Whole worlds of difference." He looks up, smiling tiredly at Furiosa. "Balancing your LOVE against your love is the hard part, but between you and me, I see a lot more good than bad when I look your way."

[swaddledog]

Honesty along this vein doesn't bother Furiosa. She's used to brutal honestly, since it's something she subscribes to as well. Coddling someone doesn't exactly prepare them for reality.

Some of what he says goes over her head, but then again, a lot of what Sans had to say sometimes does.

"Believe me, I've done some bad things because I wanted to, too." She smiles back though, then reaches out to smooth one hand over Sans's head if she'll let him. "I can't help that I have a bone to pick with some people."

Somewhere along the line, she found herself growing a bit fond of Sans and that was dangerous. Just seeing him get hurt had sparked some sort of tension in her gut. She's seen a number of weary souls, and though Sans didn't exactly have skin to express with, he's oddly animated.

Time to talk about something else.

"How'd you end up a skeleton?"

[skelepun]

"Heh, well. I won't judge ya. Everybody's got their reasons." Sans shrugs, not shying away from the touch. It's rare, for people to want to touch him. The lack of skin was a bit of a problem for most, or at least Sans assumed from how uncomfortable most people seemed when they first met him.

Then again, Furiosa and the skeleton worshiping culture she came from were cut from an entirely different cloth. It's a rare feeling, being this genuinely comfortable with a human with this much LOVE, but Sans isn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Same as you ended up a human, I was born one. Not really much to flesh out, heh."

[swaddledog]

She's a tactile person; she has to touch what she sees sometimes, just to be sure it's real. Touch was one of her most useful senses, even if she only had one hand to use for it. Sans's body is warm, but smooth. It's an odd feeling, like a bone warmed by sun and weathered by sand. It makes her almost... nostalgic.

His answer makes her blink with surprise, uncertain if she had heard him right.

"...You mean you were born a tiny baby skeleton to skeleton parts and grew into a skeleton kid, then a skeleton adult?"

[skelepun]

"Yep. That's about the long and the short of it." Sans helpfully pointed to his radius and phalanges respectively on long and short. He holds his arm up after the fact, as if inviting her to poke around those bits as well.

Aside from the lack of tendons, muscle, and cartilage holding him together, his bones bore remarkable similarities to human ones. That is, aside from the differences Furiosa has already astutely noted.

"We call 'em baby bones, though. Baby bones grow up into skeletons." For a moment, Sans looks almost nostalgic. "I'd show you some of Pap's baby pictures, but I don't got 'em on me at the moment."

[swaddledog]

She has so many questions, but most of them seem too rude to ask.

"Baby bones," she says, practically breathing it out, like she's trying not to laugh.

Furiosa presses a hand to her lips, holding the laugh in as she stares at Sans. Mostly she's wondering how skeletons even reproduce, but then she imagines the answer is probably "magic" and beyond her realm of understanding anyway.

"Human child skeletons are usually very strange looking, but I'm betting he was cute. Humans have very large heads as kids and soft bones."

[skelepun]

"The cutest." Sans confirms, nodding sagely. It's a little hard to think about, knowing the state he left his brother in just a bit ago. As proud Sans is of his brother, that pride turns to ash in his mouth the more he thinks about how he let him down.

"Seriously, that kid never paid for anything in his life. I'm amazed his teeth didn't rot out of his skull with how much free candy he got."