with scarves of red tied 'round their throats

[skelepun]

Who: Sans + lots of people + YOU
When: Throughout March
Where: Around the Moira, not so much planetside
What: Catchall for march + come get drunk with a skeleton
Warnings: Alcoholism, probably some general nihilism bullshit. it's sans, so, y'know.



(( if you would like a top level, please let me know via PM or contacting me on plurk at safelybeds ))

Comments

[gainedlove]

Belatedly, Frisk scrambles to reel themself back in, bowing their head and taking a few deep breaths. It's...it's okay. They can fix this, it's not their fault this time. The comment about resurgence makes Frisk concerned all over again, but this time it's less frantic at least. "Went wrong?"

But that's secondary. Frisk looks over at a clock hanging on the wall before nodding to Sans. "Um, we can do it now. Uh." ...shoot, how should they start? A million things about the language buzz around in Frisk's brain, each more important than the last, but finally common sense forces through.

Taking a deep breath and nodding, this time to themself, Frisk holds up their hand in the form of a peace sign.

"A."

[skelepun]

"Wish I could tell ya, kid." Sans smiles, looking suddenly more exhausted than ever, but it's a fleeting moment.

The hand signal is one he recognizes from hours spent fruitlessly scrutinizing the blueprints. Reflexively, Sans repeats it.

"A."

i refuse to describe what the mailbox even looks like, how would you DO that

[gainedlove]

Frisk nods, and switches to making an 'okay' sign instead. "B."

And then, when Sans parrots that back, a thumbs up. "C."

Like that Frisk goes through the alphabet, one letter at a time, making sure that Sans gets the signs just right (they can be pretty tricky, especially the ones that you have to move your hands on). It's a slow process, but fortunately both participants here are patient when they need to be.

"...an' this is a period."

we cannot look too closely, it's a doomed prospect

[skelepun]

And with that final peculiar hand gesture, Sans finishes. He's already practically forgotten what the first half of the alphabet looks like, but practice definitely makes perfect. Or at least adequate.

"And that's it?" Sans scratches at the back of his head, trying out that period sign a few more times and trying to picture his blueprints. "Sorta more like a code than a real language, huh?"

[gainedlove]

Frisk reaches over to move Sans's fingers into the right position (a little too much bend there), and shrugs. "Uh-huh. There's some other stuff, but that's what you really gotta know. Spelling stuff gets tricky when you go fast, though."

They sit back again, cocking their head to the side. "Can you show me E?"

[skelepun]

"Aw jeez, kid. Pop quiz, already? You're brutal." Even his former professors used to give a little warning. Sans screwed up his face, brow bone lowered in concentration as he pointed... right. No, no, that's not right. Left. It's left.

There might as well be a large question mark over his head as he looked to Frisk for approval.

[gainedlove]

Frisk shrugs with a little smile, rocking back and forth. "I gotta check." Maybe they should have gone through the alphabet again first. It's been so long since the first time Sans taught them...

They wait patiently while Sans works it out, and they nod eagerly when he looks back to them. "Yeah, that's it! Um...do you remember H? Or should we do the whole thing again?"

[skelepun]

Sans heaves a sigh, sliding back further against the bunk.

"If I show you H, can we take a break?"

[gainedlove]

Frisk rolls their eyes dramatically, but the effect is diminished by their smile and stifled giggle.

"If we gooootta."