[The sun crackles and wails, music of irregular percussion and constantly shifting sounds. The stars beyond add a chorus of varying thinner energy, weakened by distance and the thick matter (roofing tiles, and insulation, and ceiling) between them. This is confusing, for there to be anything between them and the stars, for him to have words for it all - for matter to matter like that.
Also, the software and machinery of the metal body continue their resets and loading cycles. Eyes close and open, apertures widen and narrow to focus on the scene in front of the face. Floor, speckled with dirt and stains, but reasonably free of fallen bolts or other supplies - some of the little cleaning drones keep on top of gathering them. For him? For him. He exists. Papyrus is a name that means him. But doesn't that name mean brother, light, inspiring star? Why does it mean caring about condensed matter in the shape of bolts on a floor?]
...Ow. [The body - his body? - sits up again, slowly. The motions are awkward, no automated smoothness online yet, as he moves like he's not used to it. It's heavy, and entirely metal. Wasn't it partly bone before, with the metal rusting? Now it's even more prone to rusting than before, though it doesn't seem to be at the same accelerated rate as the last time Sans helped him remember.
Oh, that's right. He can't seem to remember everything, because this restrictive heavy body still isn't capable of that... But he understands again why Sans really couldn't get his help, remembering this. He rolls his eyes, remembering and dismissing the body's stress earlier, and chides with amusement:] That was not the smoothest help, Sans. Was it harder this time, or something??
no subject
Also, the software and machinery of the metal body continue their resets and loading cycles. Eyes close and open, apertures widen and narrow to focus on the scene in front of the face. Floor, speckled with dirt and stains, but reasonably free of fallen bolts or other supplies - some of the little cleaning drones keep on top of gathering them. For him? For him. He exists. Papyrus is a name that means him. But doesn't that name mean brother, light, inspiring star? Why does it mean caring about condensed matter in the shape of bolts on a floor?]
...Ow. [The body - his body? - sits up again, slowly. The motions are awkward, no automated smoothness online yet, as he moves like he's not used to it. It's heavy, and entirely metal. Wasn't it partly bone before, with the metal rusting? Now it's even more prone to rusting than before, though it doesn't seem to be at the same accelerated rate as the last time Sans helped him remember.
Oh, that's right. He can't seem to remember everything, because this restrictive heavy body still isn't capable of that... But he understands again why Sans really couldn't get his help, remembering this. He rolls his eyes, remembering and dismissing the body's stress earlier, and chides with amusement:] That was not the smoothest help, Sans. Was it harder this time, or something??