[Sans is not in a good mood. He can't remember ever having been in a good mood. The whispering of his damaged soul is constant and difficult to ignore. He almost can't think past all the things that have happened to him. None of this changes the fact that the power is out and Papyrus needs to stay charged.
So Sans robs a store. It's efficient. It's easy. He's in and out in a few moments, taking the entire battery display with him to Papyrus's workshop. He doesn't feel bad about it. (He does feel bad about it. He's terrible and he only does terrible things.) The humans here don't like monsters much anyway, so it's fine.
Papyrus might be here; Sans isn't sure. It'd be easier if he wasn't.
[Papyrus is in the workshop, it turns out. It's reasonable for Sans to think not - when he went to bed, Papyrus had also tried taking a nap. The better to conserve energy overnight, in hopes the power would return while he snoozed. But the dreams were not pleasant at all, and he'd opted for figuring out something to work on in the meantime.
There's a couple of faint flashlights dangling from wires around the room, the sort that need to be shaken to recharge their light, rather than replacing batteries on the regular. They're enough to give his dim light perception plenty to work with, but Sans's glowing arrival is obvious in the dark night, and Papyrus looks up and over to him with a smile.]
Hey, Sans! I didn't expect to see you. Sleeping okay?
[It's said in a cheerful voice, with a easy, bright smile, one that stands out compared to the ones he's been offering for months. The discomfort in his own bones-and-metal that Papyrus had been shivering with earlier in the day is gone, but it's more than that. He's expressing a little curiosity, but there's not much in the way of worry that anything might be wrong. A flat simplicity to it, maybe like his smiles when trying to hide the emotional numbness, or like the bright smiles when the leech first started taking effect.]
[Papyrus seems a lot more relaxed and cheerful than he was the last time Sans saw him. Something must be wrong, though Sans isn't sure what. Something is always wrong here, and the power is still out anyway, so that's just an added sign. There's no happiness at seeing Papyrus happy, just growing dread and a general annoyance that isn't even aimed specifically at Papyrus.]
No, 'cause I'm not sleeping. [Obviously. There's a mean edge to Sans's voice, not like his usual jokes. He shoves the battery display, nudging it closer.] Brought you more batteries.
[Papyrus laughs at the joke despite the tone, like the mean edge is going past his notice - or at least his caring.] True enough! I appreciate it, those may come in handy sooner or later.
[There's no mean edge to his voice, no sarcasm. Appreciation, a bit of pride in Sans's initiative, a little congratulations to go with it. All the things he might normally sprinkle onto an expression of gratitude, the better to encourage Sans to keep them up. And the lack of mean edge continues, even as he says:]
If you're not sleeping well, want to go star-gazing? It's the perfect kind of night, you said. Clear, no lights...
[Sans sort of expected Papyrus to ask where he got all these batteries. He doesn't know what to do with praise; he doesn't feel anything about it at all. There's a flood of guilt when he thinks about that. He should be feeling something, shouldn't he?
Papyrus was saying something. Talking about going to look at the stars.]
I'm not feeling it right now. [Really. He didn't feel anything when he looked up at the sky either.] Anyway, shouldn't you be conserving power?
I wasn't sleeping okay either. [He shrugs, because it's no sweat off his skull. It had just been some weird dream, one that left him feeling some weird feelings that have since faded, after something disconnected and his mood let up.]
So I got to thinking... if the power's out for a while, how do we make more? There's the solar panels, but they don't do very much at night. [Which is surely why Sans is talking about conserving power. Good to see they're on the same page, there!] So I came in here to mess around. Maybe something with motion... Or steam...
If you're starting another project you could at least wait until morning. [Is Papyrus's idea a good one? All Sans can think of are the ways it could go wrong. The ways things could go wrong in general.] One weird overclock when you're not paying attention and I'm gonna come back to you dusted on the ground, or however that would work with you being part robot.
[The notion gives Papyrus pause. It's not a worrying idea, or at least he's not worried by it. It's not a scary idea, or at least he's not scared by it. But now that he pauses to ponder Sans's thoughts, he notices that internal personality framework flagging him with notes of atypical behavior and thoughts. Normally he would be worried, scared, and so on, huh? Right now, it's hard to imagine those feelings.]
...Hmmm. Maybe you're right! That doesn't sound ideal. I like being around, and don't want you discovering my dust. Again. [There's no hesitations between the sentences, no points where he's visibly continuing to think things through as his worries guide him to possibilities - he thought things through to a given point, and now he's contentedly poking at related notions without any particular fear of Sans's reactions.] You probably can't heal dust... Do you think healing would charge me?
Probably not. That'd be too easy. [He can't be sure of that, but it feels like that's how it would be. If it did work, it would presumably drain Sans's energy, anyway, and who knows if he could get it back the normal way. He moves toward Papyrus, trying to nudge him toward the door with his longer arms.] Go sit down or something, I'm sick of watching you die.
[Because he's seen it over and over and over. Too many times. So many times.]
[Papyrus could ask, isn't he already sitting, at this workstation? But he's not indignant, annoyed, or otherwise frustrated by the demand - not enough to go contradicting Sans on details like that and agitating him worse. If anything, he's feeling amused and somewhat sympathetic about this. Seems like Sans really didn't sleep well, if he's having nightmares about Papyrus dying - about the many times Papyrus has died, the unveiling deja vu reveals.]
And I keep coming back, don't I? It's fine. [His tone is soothing, as he stands and goes along with Sans's nudging out of the workshop.]
It's almost been a year since the last time I died... Just think, we can have a one year anniversary for waking up here and staying alive, soon. [Maybe the notion of a party will distract him from death.]
[It's fine? Sans laughs, though there's no humor in it. Papyrus is finally moving but Sans goes completely still. He's hardly paying attention to whatever Papyrus is saying about a party.] No, it's not fine. Why would that be fine? It's not. It's never been fine.
[At first Papyrus keeps walking, but the way Sans's voice falls further and further behind him grabs his attention, and he pauses to turn in the doorway.]
Well, okay. It's not great, I admit! [Even if the feelings of discomfort with the terrible are largely absent, leaving him with something of an indifference to slide past and move to different feelings about.] But there's nothing we can do about it, except focus on the goods, and the not-terribles. So let's go sit down and talk about party ideas, or something! You hate talking about sad things like this, anyway.
[Sans isn't sure if he's angry or sad; they've tangled up into one thing.] That doesn't mean I can stop thinking about it. We can't do anything, we can't talk about it, so--so there's nothing to do except think about it.
[He starts moving again, though, because they're still in the workshop and he doesn't want them to be here.]
Nothing...? [It's earnest confusion, as Papyrus turns and starts to walk back to the couch, apparently.] Why not think about something else?
[It's escaping his understanding why they would need to grapple with the memories of death at all. He remembers it was upsetting when he woke up, but the feelings of upset have faded. That's what feelings do, in time - mostly settle down into the bottom of one's emotional river, only resurfacing when something dredges them back up. Sure, it took some work talking them over with Kassabian... Oh, of course.]
Or, just change your mind about that whole 'can't' thing. Of course you can talk about it! You're free to. No no-talking rules here.
Who am I supposed to talk to about it, you were just telling me to think about something else. You always try to change the subject. [He practically spits the words, but--but what is he saying? That's not-- Just as quick as he was to get angry, he suddenly looks guilt-stricken.] Not that it's your fault. That's my fault. I started that. [Really, Sans can't remember who started it. He assumes it was him. It doesn't really matter when it comes to how he feels.]
[It's not a long walk to the couch, short enough for Sans to say his piece through the walk there. Papyrus keeps going through it, figuring it'll make Sans happier to keep talking on the comfier seating - but once he sits, he stares at Sans with a puzzled frown.]
Because... you hate it? [It's both question seeking clarification why Sans started it, and answer for why Papyrus tries to change the subject. (There's more reasons, a lot more - but as much as his internal framework is pinging him with notifications to that effect, they seem far away.)]
[Sans drops himself onto the couch, hunched up like he's trying to disappear into his hoodie. With all the wings, that's not happening.] Yeah, I hate it. And I hate thinking about it, and I hate that things like that keep happening in the first place, it's not fair-- [And now it sounds like Sans is getting worked up into anger again, but the burst of energy vanishes as quickly as it appeared.] No point in talking about it. Nothing anyone can do about it.
[Away from the motion-powered flashlights, which Papyrus didn't think to grab, the only illumination in the room is Sans's glow. It's enough to vaguely see by, but Papyrus's eyes brighten and switch to the low light vision to make the most of it.]
It sounds like you haven't decided what you want yet. Or figured it out, I can't tell. [He puts a hand to his mouth, fingers lightly drumming on his teeth. The sensation and sound don't bother him (don't they normally?).] Or maybe... you're feeling lots of things, very strongly, all at once? Hey, you're not feeling extra grief about Undyne, are you?
[He's noticing a pattern here, the longer they talk, the longer his reactions cause his internal model to ping him with notifs - he's not feeling as many things, since that tugging, and Sans seems to be feeling too many. Is there a chance Sans accidentally vacuumed up some of Papyrus's feelings? Incredible if true.]
Undyne? [Well, he wasn't thinking about Undyne before--there are a lot of other things to think about, plenty of things to feel angry and guilty about--but now he is. His mind stutters to a halt, caught in a loop. His gaze is very far away, like it sometimes gets when he's thinking about things that happened at home.]
--I dunno how many times I watched her die. [He's lost track. Even with the emotions so much stronger now, with all of them layered on top, it was too many.] Maybe I could have done something. I don't think I thought she'd win. Maybe in the beginning, but nobody could win against that thing, so--
I mean. She did. She won more than she lost. But you only have to lose once.
[So, that wasn't a straight yes or no, but Papyrus can probably figure out that it's a yes anyway.]
That sounds a little like nonsense, but... [The puzzled frown picks up in intensity, as Papyrus's skull furrows in thought.] That thing... The human? Or... Flowey?
[He remembers the flower's name more clearly, he's realizing. There's a sense of having unloaded all kinds of private feelings, hopes and fears and things never admitted to anyone, at some point or another. Of befriending over and over, as though time kept passing by and they kept falling out of touch, except that things didn't change, mostly. Not like they change here in the canyon, like they've changed through the months here. He can't think of any deja vu like this here, not compared to the enormity of time underground, time bulging with echoing memories and feelings like a battery about to explode.]
...I guess you didn't catch all my unhappier feelings. You're just remembering lots of awful things?
That thing wasn't a human. I don't know what it was. [It doesn't feel good to say it, but it feels like something that has to be said regardless. A rightness, if not a relief. Flowey, though--Sans remembers and doesn't remember that name. That flower. The friend Papyrus had mentioned, the one who'd avoided Sans. The first anomaly.] I usually remember lots of awful things, but this is more than usual. All mine. Not yours.
[Always his. Feelings stick with you. Feelings echo, even if you can't remember. But right now maybe he can remember, or something. If emotions echo, then right now he's in an echo chamber.]
Hmmm... So we're both remembering a lot of things, and... You're feeling a lot about it. [It seems strange, how he still isn't sad or scared - the ongoing notifs have upgraded to graphs, the projections of expected emotions and what he's actually feeling in vivid contrast. But he doesn't have to feel what his brother's feeling, to have some degree of compassion in recognizing that Sans is having a bad time.
Still, he reaches to the snack bowl abandoned on the couch earlier, the one still mostly full of batteries, and grabs one to snack on. Buys a moment to think, reassures Sans he's not neglecting his power or safety.] And you keep thinking about things like these?
[If there's a little bit of detached psychoanalysis creeping into his voice, with Kassabian one of the models he's got for dispassionate listening, well... These things happen.]
You're not? [Sans's tone is accusatory, angry in a way he doesn't generally direct at Papyrus. Even as he says it, though, he's conflicted. He doesn't actually want Papyrus to feel like this, but:] Of course you're not. It's not fair. I'm the one with--with fucked up emotions.
[That's not enough to completely describe the enormity of his issues in his own mind, but it's a succinct summary.]
in which Papyrus comes to the conclusion that his emotional intensity flowed into Sans
It's not fair, even if that's usually already true. [His tone is agreeing and supportive, despite the lack of hesitation in a tactless implication that Sans is usually a basket case. But Papyrus shakes his head even as he says it.] That said, I'm also weird right now! Something... unplugged, or something.
[He might have chalked it up to a robot thing, except Sans is visibly out of sorts - and, as he checks his notifs, the tracker's sent him a few alerts about things. Breaking and entering?]
...I asked if you were feeling my stuff, because, I'm not. I do remember dying... a lot? [His skull furrows a little more as he realizes just how true that statement is - echoes of death, not just that snowdrift area he confronted the human, but also in other places, beset by roots or bombs or just pellet-bullets.] But I don't feel much about it. Maybe as much as you're feeling too much.
not unreasonable, as positive sans snores away in his bedroom
[Papyrus agreeing with Sans about his emotional fucked-upness shouldn't hurt. That's stupid, Sans knew that and he knew Papyrus knew that, why does it hurt? Every passing feeling is turned up to eleven, but only the bad ones.] Great. That's what we need on top of the power being out. [Sans isn't surprised something else is happening on top of the power outage, but it still sucks.] Well, I can't fix any emotions like this.
[Not unless he wants to blast people with negativity. With Papyrus, he doesn't want that at all. With anyone else, that sounds like way too much work to deal with.]
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spaghettimonster) wrote2021-07-31 02:32 am
May 16, ~1am
So Sans robs a store. It's efficient. It's easy. He's in and out in a few moments, taking the entire battery display with him to Papyrus's workshop. He doesn't feel bad about it. (He does feel bad about it. He's terrible and he only does terrible things.) The humans here don't like monsters much anyway, so it's fine.
Papyrus might be here; Sans isn't sure. It'd be easier if he wasn't.
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There's a couple of faint flashlights dangling from wires around the room, the sort that need to be shaken to recharge their light, rather than replacing batteries on the regular. They're enough to give his dim light perception plenty to work with, but Sans's glowing arrival is obvious in the dark night, and Papyrus looks up and over to him with a smile.]
Hey, Sans! I didn't expect to see you. Sleeping okay?
[It's said in a cheerful voice, with a easy, bright smile, one that stands out compared to the ones he's been offering for months. The discomfort in his own bones-and-metal that Papyrus had been shivering with earlier in the day is gone, but it's more than that. He's expressing a little curiosity, but there's not much in the way of worry that anything might be wrong. A flat simplicity to it, maybe like his smiles when trying to hide the emotional numbness, or like the bright smiles when the leech first started taking effect.]
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No, 'cause I'm not sleeping. [Obviously. There's a mean edge to Sans's voice, not like his usual jokes. He shoves the battery display, nudging it closer.] Brought you more batteries.
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[There's no mean edge to his voice, no sarcasm. Appreciation, a bit of pride in Sans's initiative, a little congratulations to go with it. All the things he might normally sprinkle onto an expression of gratitude, the better to encourage Sans to keep them up. And the lack of mean edge continues, even as he says:]
If you're not sleeping well, want to go star-gazing? It's the perfect kind of night, you said. Clear, no lights...
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Papyrus was saying something. Talking about going to look at the stars.]
I'm not feeling it right now. [Really. He didn't feel anything when he looked up at the sky either.] Anyway, shouldn't you be conserving power?
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So I got to thinking... if the power's out for a while, how do we make more? There's the solar panels, but they don't do very much at night. [Which is surely why Sans is talking about conserving power. Good to see they're on the same page, there!] So I came in here to mess around. Maybe something with motion... Or steam...
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...Hmmm. Maybe you're right! That doesn't sound ideal. I like being around, and don't want you discovering my dust. Again. [There's no hesitations between the sentences, no points where he's visibly continuing to think things through as his worries guide him to possibilities - he thought things through to a given point, and now he's contentedly poking at related notions without any particular fear of Sans's reactions.] You probably can't heal dust... Do you think healing would charge me?
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[Because he's seen it over and over and over. Too many times. So many times.]
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And I keep coming back, don't I? It's fine. [His tone is soothing, as he stands and goes along with Sans's nudging out of the workshop.]
It's almost been a year since the last time I died... Just think, we can have a one year anniversary for waking up here and staying alive, soon. [Maybe the notion of a party will distract him from death.]
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Well, okay. It's not great, I admit! [Even if the feelings of discomfort with the terrible are largely absent, leaving him with something of an indifference to slide past and move to different feelings about.] But there's nothing we can do about it, except focus on the goods, and the not-terribles. So let's go sit down and talk about party ideas, or something! You hate talking about sad things like this, anyway.
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[He starts moving again, though, because they're still in the workshop and he doesn't want them to be here.]
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[It's escaping his understanding why they would need to grapple with the memories of death at all. He remembers it was upsetting when he woke up, but the feelings of upset have faded. That's what feelings do, in time - mostly settle down into the bottom of one's emotional river, only resurfacing when something dredges them back up. Sure, it took some work talking them over with Kassabian... Oh, of course.]
Or, just change your mind about that whole 'can't' thing. Of course you can talk about it! You're free to. No no-talking rules here.
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Because... you hate it? [It's both question seeking clarification why Sans started it, and answer for why Papyrus tries to change the subject. (There's more reasons, a lot more - but as much as his internal framework is pinging him with notifications to that effect, they seem far away.)]
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It sounds like you haven't decided what you want yet. Or figured it out, I can't tell. [He puts a hand to his mouth, fingers lightly drumming on his teeth. The sensation and sound don't bother him (don't they normally?).] Or maybe... you're feeling lots of things, very strongly, all at once? Hey, you're not feeling extra grief about Undyne, are you?
[He's noticing a pattern here, the longer they talk, the longer his reactions cause his internal model to ping him with notifs - he's not feeling as many things, since that tugging, and Sans seems to be feeling too many. Is there a chance Sans accidentally vacuumed up some of Papyrus's feelings? Incredible if true.]
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--I dunno how many times I watched her die. [He's lost track. Even with the emotions so much stronger now, with all of them layered on top, it was too many.] Maybe I could have done something. I don't think I thought she'd win. Maybe in the beginning, but nobody could win against that thing, so--
I mean. She did. She won more than she lost. But you only have to lose once.
[So, that wasn't a straight yes or no, but Papyrus can probably figure out that it's a yes anyway.]
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[He remembers the flower's name more clearly, he's realizing. There's a sense of having unloaded all kinds of private feelings, hopes and fears and things never admitted to anyone, at some point or another. Of befriending over and over, as though time kept passing by and they kept falling out of touch, except that things didn't change, mostly. Not like they change here in the canyon, like they've changed through the months here. He can't think of any deja vu like this here, not compared to the enormity of time underground, time bulging with echoing memories and feelings like a battery about to explode.]
...I guess you didn't catch all my unhappier feelings. You're just remembering lots of awful things?
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[Always his. Feelings stick with you. Feelings echo, even if you can't remember. But right now maybe he can remember, or something. If emotions echo, then right now he's in an echo chamber.]
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Still, he reaches to the snack bowl abandoned on the couch earlier, the one still mostly full of batteries, and grabs one to snack on. Buys a moment to think, reassures Sans he's not neglecting his power or safety.] And you keep thinking about things like these?
[If there's a little bit of detached psychoanalysis creeping into his voice, with Kassabian one of the models he's got for dispassionate listening, well... These things happen.]
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[That's not enough to completely describe the enormity of his issues in his own mind, but it's a succinct summary.]
in which Papyrus comes to the conclusion that his emotional intensity flowed into Sans
[He might have chalked it up to a robot thing, except Sans is visibly out of sorts - and, as he checks his notifs, the tracker's sent him a few alerts about things. Breaking and entering?]
...I asked if you were feeling my stuff, because, I'm not. I do remember dying... a lot? [His skull furrows a little more as he realizes just how true that statement is - echoes of death, not just that snowdrift area he confronted the human, but also in other places, beset by roots or bombs or just pellet-bullets.] But I don't feel much about it. Maybe as much as you're feeling too much.
not unreasonable, as positive sans snores away in his bedroom
[Not unless he wants to blast people with negativity. With Papyrus, he doesn't want that at all. With anyone else, that sounds like way too much work to deal with.]
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can't deny that worry has some merit - fearlessness leads to kender behavior
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