[Walking up to the door of their house, it doesn't occur to Sans to think about what happened directly after the human sliced through Papyrus's spine, knocking his head clean from his body before the entirety of him turned to dust.
In truth, Sans doesn't really remember that part too well.
He knows it hurt. That's one constant, the one thing that aches no matter how familiar the sight feels. In darker times, Sans was almost grateful for that -- a sign that he wasn't completely numb to caring about his brother's death, even if he'd long since given up ever actually intervening in fate's plan.
There was a lot of silence, a gathering of dust, of aborted funeral rites Sans didn't have the stomach to carry out. Picking one thing Papyrus loved most was impossible. He loved everything so much, with an intensity that staggered him to meditate on very long. The presumption of sprinkling some of Papyrus's dust over himself felt too selfish. Papyrus's love was never just his.
But ultimately, the specifics of that time are lost to him -- made foggy by the intensity of his numb grief at the time. So really, opening the door to the sight of their house in shambles comes as something of a shock.
Bones spears were still stuck out of their lumpy green couch, the TV cracked, the fridge/food museum open with its contents strewn over the floor. The staircase looks as if someone... blasted it.
Sans blinks, suddenly feeling very, very small. A feat, considering.]
2/2
In truth, Sans doesn't really remember that part too well.
He knows it hurt. That's one constant, the one thing that aches no matter how familiar the sight feels. In darker times, Sans was almost grateful for that -- a sign that he wasn't completely numb to caring about his brother's death, even if he'd long since given up ever actually intervening in fate's plan.
There was a lot of silence, a gathering of dust, of aborted funeral rites Sans didn't have the stomach to carry out. Picking one thing Papyrus loved most was impossible. He loved everything so much, with an intensity that staggered him to meditate on very long. The presumption of sprinkling some of Papyrus's dust over himself felt too selfish. Papyrus's love was never just his.
But ultimately, the specifics of that time are lost to him -- made foggy by the intensity of his numb grief at the time. So really, opening the door to the sight of their house in shambles comes as something of a shock.
Bones spears were still stuck out of their lumpy green couch, the TV cracked, the fridge/food museum open with its contents strewn over the floor. The staircase looks as if someone... blasted it.
Sans blinks, suddenly feeling very, very small. A feat, considering.]