[Sans can feel what it is without seeing it himself, but he leans in to look at the phone screen anyway, only wobbling a bit under the new weight of his wing. Papyrus's soul, white and flickering. Sans tries not to think about the state of his own soul floating around in his chest; he definitely didn't want to share that particular bit of weirdness with Papyrus.]
Well. That's not feathers. [Feathers would have been easier to deal with.]
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Well. That's not feathers. [Feathers would have been easier to deal with.]