[Open] working your fingers to the bones, cause nobody loves you when you're gone

[coolskeletonnyehntyfive]

Who: Papyrus, Sans, and YOU!
When: March 12th and onwards
Where: Medbay
What: Papyrus had a really bad idea that nearly got himself and Sans killed. Sans put out a call for help. This log is for the general followup/aftermath.
Warnings: Broken bones and hearts, cracked skulls, life draining, will add more if necessary.

((OOC Note: The translator event will affect the skeletons, so anyone tagging in on the 13th will be in for a lively game of charades!))

Comments

[dragonspride]

At least the skeleton seems friendly enough about it.

Even if a part of him is feeling mildly surreal after the number of significantly less sapient and far more hostile skeletons that he regularly fought with during his seventeen year exile on Mount Ordeals.

His expression is weary and deadpan when he replies in something that'd sound vaguely Germanic if Papyrus had any idea what that was. "I can't understand a word you're saying."

[coolskeletonnyehntyfive]

It sounded pretty, whatever it was, when the stranger opened his mouth and spoke. Melodic, that was a word for it. He scratched his skull with the hand not stuck in a sling and tried again, speaking very slowly and pointing to himself.

"I, PAPYRUS."

He points to Kain.

"Y O U?"

[dragonspride]

The charades at least conveyed what Papyrus was trying to accomplish, with what were thankfully fairly universal gestures.

Unfortunately Kain was beginning to suspect that the monsters communicated a little like dragons, where vocalizations were basically just a tool-component to carry impressions of concepts, and he was pretty sure that even if they were similar enough to the dragons he'd grown up with for it to work, the Fog God's meddling had probably blocked his ability to understand that.

If Toriel hadn't mentioned Papyrus before and he hadn't been here because of recognizing the name on the medbay charts in passing before things broke down, he wouldn't have had the slightest clue there was a name in the odd chatter that sounded like nothing so much as something out of the Fourth God's arcade or a Tower of Babil system on the fritz.

He taps his own chest, and just prays that it works. "Kain." After an awkward pause - he's never actually MET Papyrus, after all - he makes some awkward charades at the uniform, pointing off in the direction he hopes indicates the dorms and not just some random wall, and adds "Toriel?"

[coolskeletonnyehntyfive]

This was new. Papyrus had had some issues with not hearing the words coming out of Frisk's mouth, but that was a different problem to this one. He can hear Kain just fine, but none of the words make sense until he mentions the boss.

"Oh! You know Toriel!" He's so cheerful, as if this solves anything. "She's very nice, isn't she? She brought me pasta earlier, it was delightful! I'd share it with you, but either my brother or those cursed little dogs stole it when I fell asleep again..." He trails off, remembering belatedly that there's still an issue of communication here. "I think Frisk borrowed stuff they used when they came here. Do you have anything to write on? I mean!"

Papyrus closed his fingers into a loose fist and mimed scribbling. "A pen? Paper?"

[dragonspride]

Apparently Toriel's name came through okay, judging by the reaction; it's too bad Kain isn't understanding a word of it, expression growing more and more awkwardly blank with a couple of faint, quiet reptilian clicking noises.

The motion of pen and paper, however, DOES make sense; he's half-afraid that writing will fall prey to the same problem but at least being able to draw pictures should work.

It does lead to an awkward moment of Kain realizing he's not carrying anything on his uniform and doesn't even own much. He pauses, then spends a minute fiddling with his MID, somehow managing to bring up the memo's function for storing small doodles around his claws, then holds his wrist with the MID out to Papyrus.

He's not sure what he's going to do, but it should work for at least one of them.

[coolskeletonnyehntyfive]

It's just as well they're using his -- with one arm unusable, Papyrus can't do much with his own MID right now. he brightens a little when he realizes what's being offered. "Oh, I see! How very resourceful of you!"

He leans in and types out a brief message. PERHAPS WE'LL FARE BETTER WITH TEXT!