[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

[neveroutwrenched]

"Well, get used to it." Ratchet's tone is joking, even if there's a certain bit of gravitas. "You guys are killing me with these brushes with death." And some not-so-brushes. "And I know I'm not the only one."

Ratchet takes a seat next to Sans, folding his arms across his knees. He didn't want to say that he could have told Sans that. It's not the point. He glances over.

"How's it work anyway? Your magic."

[skelepun]

Ratchet probably didn't mean it as a pun, but Sans can't help grinning a little wider all the same. With an undercurrent of sheepishness behind it, that's about as far as Ratchet's going to get as a direct apology.

"I dunno, it just works. It's how we stay together. Like, life force, I guess." He made a few more sparks, touching them to Ratchet's fur. The resulting shock is incredibly weak, nothing more than static electricity. "Mine's pretty crappy. Pap's the fighter, not me."

[neveroutwrenched]

Ratchet echoes the grin, can never help but be a little enthusiastic about magic whenever the subject, or even better, the real thing came up.

“That’s completely different than what I’ve learned about it so far.” Which, admittedly, was really not all that much. Alice had explained it to him (more than once) but it was different when he talked to other people. Guided by different principles, drawn from different sources, utilized in different ways.

“Did you have to learn how to use it? I mean, if it’s part of you like that?”

[skelepun]

"Yeah, of course you gotta learn." Sans shrugs, leaning back into his chair. His gaze fell instinctively on his brother, mind tracing back through to when they were small. "It's all tied up in emotions. I'm sure you're no stranger to how terrible kids are with those."

[neveroutwrenched]

Ratchet lets out a short laugh.

“Yeah. Kids.” Unlike adults, masters of emotion, of course. “I can’t say I envy you that...spaceships work the same whether you’ve had a bad day or not." He follows Sans gaze over to Papyrus. "Do all monsters use magic, then?"

[skelepun]

"All the more reason for me to learn to drive." Sans laughs, running a hand over the healed over crack in his skull.

"N' yeah, we've all got it. One of the many reasons humans hated us, if you go by the history books. They didn't like that we could do something they couldn't. I'm sure you know how that goes."

[neveroutwrenched]

"Yeah, I hate to say it but...that sounds like humans."

Ratchet frowns, eyes falling to the floor. It didn't seem fair to generalize - Ratchet had plenty of human friends he didn't think would ever do something like that, but people like Chara didn't exist in a vacuum. And if time with the CDC had taught him anything, it was that the overwhelming bulk of humans cared mostly about themselves. Even here on the Moira it wasn't hard to see where people's priorities fell when it came down to it.

[skelepun]

"Heh. Yeah." Sans took in a skeletal approximation of a breath, ribs rising and falling. It's hard not to think to a version of Papyrus that wasn't laid up with just a broken arm. A version that wasn't anything more than a pile of dust. The laughter that comes next it thin and a little uncontrolled.

"Could you do me a favor, man?"

[neveroutwrenched]

Ratchet turns his gaze back to Sans, not missing the oddness of that laugh.

"Yeah, of course."

sorry for the delay, busy weekend!

[skelepun]

"Could you stick around a bit while I catch some Z's?"

Vulnerability isn't a mask Sans wears particularly well, and the tone of his voice clashes with his perpetual grin. All the same, he nods subtly to the chair on the other side of Papyrus' bed.

"Kinda don't want him to be alone."