We're Still Here - IC Inbox

[spaghettimonster]

INBOX network radio / network text / home phone / letter / action FEEL FREE TO CALL OR VISIT ANY TIME! code credit

Comments

[spaghettimonster]

Uhhhhhhh. [Look at that, the existential dread is returning, and now it's bringing a friend. Papyrus's eyes drift down to the tree line, which seems reassuringly unlikely to wander away or burn out while he watches.] How long. Is the sun. Supposed to live.

[Is live even the right word for the sun? If it was secretly a very large and distant monster, it's not like humans could have done anything to stick it in a mountain.]

[ribticklers]

Like seven or eight billion years. Plenty of time left. [Especially if it keeps looping, but Sans isn't going to think about that right now.]

[spaghettimonster]

I see... That's billion with a b again. Okay! [As long as it's a length of time that's challenging to even conceive of, Papyrus can be pretty sure that everybody he's ever known, besides maybe Toriel, will be fine.]

[ribticklers]

It's space, the numbers are big too. [But the last thing anyone has to worry about right now is the sun dying.] 'S reliable like that.

[Time and distance scales that stretch so far beyond comprehension that the idea of one human with a lot of Determination even seems small by comparison. When Sans reaches for the barest grasp of the scale involved, the idea that the human could impact things on that scale is silly. He can't do anything about them, but they can't possibly do anything on the scale of the universe.]

[spaghettimonster]

Then why... is it such a small word? [There's other things on his mind, but this is the easiest to talk about while avoiding the more serious things.] 'Space.' Only five letters... It should be big to match. And capitalized all the time.

[You know, as if Papyrus was the one enthusing about space. As is, he tucks gloved hands into his pockets and continues looking up, feeling smaller than he's ever felt - even as a baby bones. Would it feel easier, if he was still a skeleton, aware of where his friends were at, on a surface with the technology he expected? Or would the enormity of space be just as disorienting?]

[ribticklers]

'Cause "the observable universe" is too long to say all the time. [Laziness! It's important.] And 'cause it's mostly just space. Empty with stuff scattered around here and there.

I thought I remembered December being good for meteor showers

[spaghettimonster]

Super big emptiness... [If he spends long enough at it, maybe he'll think of P, A, and C words to substitute for big, and make a whole S.P.A.C.E. acronym.

But he's distracted entirely by a brief streak of white that flares and fades in hardly a blink.] What was that!?

[ribticklers]

[Sans lights up. This is a very rare Sans expression. Collect 'em all.] A meteor. Some people call 'em shooting stars. You saw it first, you get to make a wish.

[That is not scientific, but it reminds Sans of Waterfall when he was little, and so it's important in that way.]

[spaghettimonster]

A wish? [That does seem like the Waterfall room. See stars, make wishes. And they're not even crowded by creepy echo flowers. But.] Do I have to say it out loud...?

[ribticklers]

Is it somethin' embarrassing? [Of course Sans has to tease.] But nah, you don't have to.

[spaghettimonster]

[Papyrus grumbles wordlessly, which is probably twice the affirmative either of them need.]

A wish... [There's a lot of things to wish for. Seeing missing friends again. Seeing them, back underground, instead of seeing human faces with familiar voices. Everyone being above ground, happy and safe, without any hostile decor enforcers... More surprise nights like this one...

Well, there's a lot of options. He picks something or another, and even the narration will respect his privacy on that.]

December 25

[ribticklers]

[At some point when Papyrus isn't looking, Sans sneaks the following under his tree at Papyrus's house:

One white-and-silver-foil-wrapped present from Santa, with the tag rewritten to be for Papyrus, which contains racecar bed... slippers.

One Christmas gift bag with some red and green tissue paper stuck haphazardly on top, from Sans, which contains this toy robot.]

action; early January

[ribticklers]

[When Sans wakes up feeling magic humming through his soul again, he knows there's only one thing to do: wait for Papyrus to be alone in his backyard. Sans is very patient; he stands by the fence, waiting, until he's sure it's only Papyrus anywhere nearby and, just as importantly, that Papyrus is turned away from the fence. Then he hops up onto the stepladder he has dragged over to said fence for specifically this occasion and pulls Papyrus over to the fence and then up with blue magic, just out of reach of being able to touch the ground.]

Morning, bro. [It may or may not actually be morning.]

the mandatory 'i am in the air and didn't mean to be' icon

[spaghettimonster]

[It's not Christmas anymore, and the Christmas village itself disappeared, which would seem to imply that the time for decorations is passing too. Papyrus is leaving up the various lights, especially the string lights around the rooftop - they're cheering, reminiscent of the decor in Snowdin, and might be helpful if more antlered carnivores or dripping zombies show up. But he's cleaning up the other yard decorations, gathering wooden reindeer and Santa sleigh and so forth into a box to exile to the garage, or perhaps the attic.

He's focused on the task, working hard to avoid thoughts of why he wants to reduce the Christmas reminders, so there's a lot of things he isn't expecting at the moment. Among the highest would be a sudden return of magic. When there's a yank in his sternum and gravity shifts to pull him into the air, he yelps and flails as gracelessly as if he'd never experienced it before. By the time he recovers and Sans sets him to hovering just out of reach of the ground, his face is bright red.]

Sans. A-Are you... [He sputters, torn between indignation at the prank, his reaction, and the surprise of it all.] Your magic's working??? [Clearly, Papyrus's isn't, as he keeps trying to tug back control and get his feet on the ground.]

[ribticklers]

[Sans tests the drain of his magic as he lifts Papyrus just a little bit higher in the air, grinning widely, chin in his hand as he leans on the top of the fence.] Just this. Figured I'd lift your spirits. [Holding Papyrus in the air is definitely draining his reserves more than he might expect, though with Papyrus just flailing around it's not too bad. He could use it in a fight, still, if he had to. Well, more pointedly, he could use it to get away from a fight. The drain wasn't as bad as when he was testing it on smaller things... Well, he's never lifted a human before. They've got a lot more mass, so...

Anyway Sans is just kind of wiggling Papyrus around experimentally in the air as he considers these things. Sorry Papyrus.]

[spaghettimonster]

[All of that extra human mass is asserting itself in Papyrus's awareness right now. He never had a conversation with Undyne about vomit basketball hoop puzzles, (unfortunately...?), but if he had, he'd be thinking of that conversation now. Nausea's still a relatively unfamiliar experience, and he crosses his arms to hide that he's holding himself for comfort.]

Consider them lifted! [Another attempt to flip Sans over the fence fails, and Papyrus heaves a sigh.] I'd return the favor, but, somehow, it isn't working... what did you do??? How'd you get it back??

[ribticklers]

[Sans puts Papyrus back down, finally. He probably shouldn't waste all his energy on pranking his brother right now when he might want to prank his brother again later in the day.] Just woke up with it. Didn't do anything in particular. [Hardly did anything, as a general rule.] I kinda figured we were just gonna be stuck like this, but maybe it wears off?

[It being whatever magic is in place that deprived them of their own magic and stuck them in human bodies in the first place.]

[spaghettimonster]

[Papyrus stamps his feet as he settles down, not in a tantrum way, but to test that gravity's reasserting itself - that the blue magic's released. The reassuring solidity of the stomps is familiar, the ripple from all the fleshy stuff isn't. Clearly the same blue magic, even if it's out of his reach.]

Wears off... I hope so. Going without magic, when things happen...! It's so inconvenient. [Being dropped over the lake wouldn't have been a problem, if he could have tugged himself to safety. At the least, he probably wouldn't have been caught by that light Agatha, Erwin, and a few others did. Thank goodness that wore off, too. Hopefully the guess that all the very normal humans in town were once like them is wrong...]

Hmmm... You have some magic back, and you were fine all month. And I... [Well, he doesn't need to go into that.

Instead, he frowns and puzzles. Blue magic on himself, failing. Blue magic on Sans, failing. Bones... Suddenly, bones. Three of them materialize before he realizes it's working.] Oh my god!! Sans, look!

[ribticklers]

[Sans was about to make a joke about how he doesn't know if spending all that time in a freezing lake counts as fine when Papyrus manages his own magic.] Hey, look at that. Between the two of us we've almost got a whole pattern down. [You know, except for the light blue bones. But not all of their patterns use those. Just the one Sans finds funniest, where Papyrus pulls the surprise blue magic trick.]

[spaghettimonster]

[In fairness, having spent some time dropping into the frozen lake, Papyrus would admit it's not fine. But as he's blissfully distracted by talking on and on until this unexpected success, Papyrus grins brightly and outright grabs the bones out of midair. They remain solid and real in his hands, and go back to floating when he directs them out again.]

This is a whole pattern! An introductory pattern. [Maybe that's why only three came when he pulled on the energy, thinking of just the basics. Hopefully that's not all he has... but he can spin this, before making another attempt.] Just the sort for teaching someone to dodge.

[ribticklers]

I already know how to dodge. [Don't throw any bones his way, he might fall off the ladder. But probably not. Sans hasn't done an introductory pattern since he was helping Papyrus learn magic, and Papyrus caught on real quick.] You gonna start surprising the neighbors with training?

[spaghettimonster]

Oh. Hmm... [Papyrus eyes the nearby fence, then scans around the adjacent houses, with the windows on second floors facing this way.] I guess that'd be pretty surprising... Maybe somewhere else.

[But before he does the safe, careful, and responsible thing of dismissing the bones or putting them out of sight, he tries again to summon more. With talking to Sans, the pattern of white and blue alternating is foremost in his mind: and it works, to a point. White, blue, white, blue, whit... Another five bones pop into existence one at a time, but then nothing more. He frowns intensely, a little sweat accumulating as he strains to will more into existence, but it doesn't work. The others continue revolving around the brothers in a wide arc without blinking out, at least.]

[ribticklers]

[Sans watches the bones arc around. Papyrus seems to be struggling, and Sans remembers the way his own blue magic had drained him.] Yeah, I'm pretty sure the stuff we got back ain't exactly up to standard.

[spaghettimonster]

[Papyrus's posture slouches ever so slightly with that, but he gathers the bones back in towards him, letting them wink out and back into existence.]

Eight bones, that's loads more than zero... an undeniable improvement! Maybe it's just because I'm out of practice. [Easy enough to test with these some more, and put more strain into it again later. Like exercise. But he notices that pronoun, and looks sidelong at his brother.] Yours too?

[ribticklers]

It's takin' more out of me 'n usual. [Sans shrugs.] Might just have to adjust to the whole mass change thing, dunno. [But with Papyrus also having some issues, Sans thinks it might just be the magic in general.]