what did the skeleton say to the other skeleton

[skelepun]

Who: Sans & YOU
When: From the 16th on.
Where: All around the ship.
What: Catch-all log for May!! Some post-void shenanigans, some general around the ship shenanigans, fun for everybody!
Warnings: Will add if any come up! Probably some talk of mass murder, though.





( All prompts below! Please either PM me or PP me on plurk (safelybeds) if you'd like to hash out a custom starter!)

OTA (MEDBAY)
Sans tries to sneak out of the medbay after Magic Overload.

OTA (CRYOBAY)
Who wants to tell bad jokes and hang out around a bunch of kinda dead people?

OTA (TRAINING ROOM)
Magic burnout sucks. Let's talk about powers and why they're the worst.

OTA (CLASSROOMS)
Who wants to learn chemistry from the world's most tired man?

Comments

[neveroutwrenched]

Ratchet doesn't say anything. Sans' words feel like a physical weight and his shoulders slump. Turning back away, Ratchet looks down, a tightness in the back of his throat, a feeling like being sick just thinking about it. Thinking about that void, Sans' recollection, Chara, how they all tie together.

He doesn't want to think about it.

After a moment he falls back on the bed, his head somewhere near Sans' elbow. He stares up, although there's nothing to see but dark. There's another long moment of painful hesitation before he speaks, voice strained.

"So why did you go?"

[skelepun]

The thud of Ratchet's body against the mattress is met with a muted laugh, reflexive more than anything else. There's a familiar sort of comfort to the scene, fitting like a sweater from the back of the closet. Still stretched out in all the right places, no matter how long it's been.

"Curiosity, I guess. Wanted to know what my future on this ship was." His smile crooks wider, another reflexive gesture. Ratchet wasn't even looking at him. "Now I know. It sure isn't through an Ingress."

[neveroutwrenched]

"Geez, Sans." Ratchet wants to laugh, something bitter and burning and devoid of humor. Instead he sighs, closing his eyes.

"So it's not through the Ingress." He can't believe how logical it sounds, really. Maybe he was losing faith that any of them would see the other side of the Ingress. Maybe he never had it in the first place. Maybe he was still worried (like he was always worried) that there wasn't anything on the other side for him either.

Another thing he doesn't want to think about.

"I guess you'll just have to find it somewhere else."

[skelepun]

"Guess so."

The words hang there, almost light when dressed in such a casual tone. The only sign of any lingering stress hanging off his bones is in the fidgeting rock of his heel, slipper barefoot bouncing erratically where he has it slung over his bent knee.

"Offering to come along?"

[neveroutwrenched]

"Tempting."

And it was. Whatever unknown hypothetical it was that they were talking about.

"But I...just want to go home. If it's not through the Ingress..." He shrugs. "I'll go wherever the best chance of that is."

[skelepun]

If there's a tinge of disappointment in Sans' eyes, well, he's not looking at Ratchet anyway.

"That's fair. You must have people waiting for you, right?"

Not Lombaxes, that much he knew, but family was larger than just those that looked like you. The thought makes Sans go silent for a moment, hand subconsciously squeezing at the bed sheets.

"But... y'know... you've always got a home with me and Papyrus, Ratch." And then, a little faster: "If the Ingress thing doesn't work out."

[neveroutwrenched]

“Yeah.” He responds hoarsely, his voice very quiet. Almost subconciously - habitually - he crosses his arm over to touch the version of the MID he never talked about on his left wrist. The inactive CDC cuff he still wore out of some kind of...what? Habit? A reminder? Fear?

Clearing his throat, he tilts his head just a fraction towards Sans.

“Thanks...either way, Sans. I appreciate it.” He hopes his voice conveys his sincerity, because he means it. The Moira wasn’t home to Ratchet. It never felt like home or anything close, even though he knows there are plenty of people who view it that way. It’s nice to know he has something over here. It didn’t make him want to go home less, but it made him feel less alone.

[skelepun]

Observation isn't something Sans takes pride in so much as he can't seem to turn off. The tone of his voice, the subconscious habit, it might as well be an entire speech in two motions. Out of nowhere, Sans remembers their first real meeting -- their date -- and can't help but recall something he said then.

No, that's not right. Not said. Intoned somehow, written in a noise he couldn't quite smother. He recognized it then as evasion, but at the time it wasn't anything to poke at. They barely knew each other, and Sans had more than enough of his own secrets. Hearing it again, it felt like a sort of deja vu.

He didn't ask then, but he could ask now.

"What the hell happened to you, Ratchet?" He asks, blunt but quiet and thick with concern, still not looking at him so much as at the roof of the bed. It's easier, for both of them.

[neveroutwrenched]

“Nothing.” The response comes fast. Way too fast. He swallows, a stab of panic rising up, trying to figure out what he’d said to make Sans ask that. He tucks his hands behind his head, his tone almost completely different than it had been a moment ago. A somewhat transparent attempt at casual.

“Other than getting not-kidnapped onto some strange space ship with a bunch of weird aliens in an alternate dimension, I mean.” It was a bad lie, even for him.

[skelepun]

If Sans was feeling less fresh from his own run in with the consequences of avoidance, he might've let him get away with it.

If Sans didn't care about Ratchet as much as he did, he might've let him get away with it.

"C'mon, Ratch."

It may have only been two words, but it communicates one thing: he wasn't gonna let him get away with it.

[neveroutwrenched]

Ratchet’s expression falls flat, even without even looking in Sans’ direction. He wasn’t going to let this go. Considering Ratchet had just been embracing to virtue of talking in the other direction, he couldn’t really blame him.

But he doesn’t feel grateful or cared about. He feels sick.

“Have you ever....made a decision you regret?” He takes a shallow breath, a tightness in chest. He’d never wanted to talk about something less. “I don’t mean like, you wish it had turned out different, or that you could have done it sooner, or later, or someplace else, or just...better. I mean...something you wish you could just erase from having ever happened at all."

[skelepun]

"Yeah." Sans says, quietly and without hesitation. He's on his side now, looking at Ratchet -- or, more accurately, studying him. Easy to do, under the guise of darkness, though the lights of his sockets give him away.

He doesn't say anything else, letting the implied go on stay silent.

[neveroutwrenched]

Ratchet can feel Sans' eyes on him, and he turns his head away.

"I used to be on another ship, you know. Before the Moira. With a bunch of people from different universes, just like this." He folds his hands on chest, rising and falling with his breathing. It was weird how many of them had ended up here. Too many to be a fluke. Maybe interdimensional hopping just turns you into some kind of magnet for it. "It....wasn't like the Moira. They came to our worlds on purpose. Asked us to help. You said yes, one way or another."

Maybe some people didn't. Some people had to say no. Those people didn't end up with the CDC.

[skelepun]

He's silent again, watching Ratchet's face, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn't, Sans' voice carries little more than gentle prompting.

"One way or another, huh. What sort of help?"

[neveroutwrenched]

"Whatever they wanted. But mostly, you destroyed planets." He crosses his arms across his chest, suprised by how even his own voice is. "And if you helped them destroy enough planets, you were good enough, made them look good enough...then they didn't destroy yours."

It's weird how easy it is to talk about once th words were actually in your mouth. At least in comparison to what it was. It should be impossible. Like literal pulling teeth.

[skelepun]

For a long, long moment, Sans says nothing.

"Wow."

Then, a few beats later, voice almost breezy.

"Well that sucks."

[neveroutwrenched]

Ratchet doesn't move for a moment. Doesn't say anything. Frozen with a hard knot of uncertainy in his stomach. If it were just about anyone else, he would assume he was being made fun of. If it were just about anyone else, he might be pissed off by the breezy response.

But it's Sans.

And he'd spent so long agonizing and fretting and inventing the inevitable conclusion of this conversation, a conclusion in which he'd decided a long time ago would be anything but this. That it would be angry, or disgusted, or at the very least, disappointed.

"That's it. It sucks?"

[skelepun]

"Yeah."

Easing the tension on his spine, Sans rolls his head away from Ratchet, reorienting his gaze on the bed's familiar roof. Blindly, he feels around, fingers tightening into a soft squeeze when he finds his friend's forearm.

"That's it."