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.]
[Rather than express anything like Sans might be imagining, like apparently worry or disappointment according to the projection, he shrugs.]
That's no problem, I'm not in a hurry! [Reassurance, maybe forgiveness? Is forgiveness a thing Sans might be wanting, with that frustrated voice? Papyrus offers it up anyway, just in case.] I don't seem all numb, anyway. I was having a great time brainstorming power generators.
[The tones in his voice, the expressions on his face, they're genuine in their optimism and amusement and kindness. The unshadowed positivity might seem fake compared to a normal Papyrus, but they're miles more real compared to his leech behavior, or the incomplete mask he put on while genuinely numbing out.]
[As far as Sans can tell, Papyrus isn't lying. He's too fine with things, but it seems genuine. Of course, Sans could be wrong. He's hardly objective about Papyrus on a good day, and this isn't one of those days. He can't push away the paranoia that he might be missing something.] Fine. Just do that here so I can keep an eye on you.
[So he can make sure Papyrus doesn't lose his charge or have some dramatic emotional change or turn into a gooey puddle or whatever else. Could be almost anything.]
Yes, okay, okay. [He says it to placate and doesn't hide it, pointedly settling in more on the couch comfortably. It's not that he feels annoyed by the clingy demand, for all that memory and the projections both say that this is wildly atypical for them both... But maybe joking about it will help Sans feel more normal? Or at least help identify specifics of the fucked up emotions.] Just one eye, are you sure?
One eye minimum. [Sans plays along automatically, fixing a few more of the eyes of his halo on Papyrus, but it's just that--an automatic response. It doesn't do anything to make him feel better. Nothing seems to be working as far as making Sans feel better. That's not Papyrus's fault.]
Phew, as long as I'm under constant surveillance, I must be safe. [He says it, but again there's a lack of actual annoyance under it - it's wry and amused, like reading off a script. Fits with Sans's own weird tone and expression, which don't quite seem to match.
Papyrus shifts in place to maximize the comfort, fidgets with his wire hair to get it to some kind of aesthetic, and hums thoughtfully at nothing visible. The tracker's giving him... some kind of bizarre message, not based on any of the preset alerts. A discrepancy with duplication? Was it doing some backup upload when the power went out, and now it's trying and failing to complete it...?]
No such thing as safe here. [It's an automatic response, fitting with the paranoia he feels jittering around. But at least if he can see Papyrus, he can maybe see some of the bad stuff coming. Normally Sans might pull out his phone; it's not as if he can't multitask when it comes to keeping an eye on something. But no, he just keeps watching Papyrus, as if he might vanish if Sans looks away.]
[Papyrus glances back up at a few of Sans's eyes, the response taking a minute to process with his other train of thought. He hadn't divided his attention, lacking nervousness about seeming rude as he normally would, and it's only now that he partitions it.]
Hmm... You're not wrong... Relatively safe, then? Since some of the dangers are too big and omni-present to do much about.
Yeah, those ones. Can't stop thinking about those ones. [He can't. Obviously Papyrus can.] But yeah, nothing we can do about 'em. Might be able to stop you from shutting down due to low power, though.
You keep saying that... [It's confusing, the emphasis on this idea. A ping clarifies it should be worrying - whether because Sans knows something he doesn't, or because the fixation means something's wrong with Sans. But they already know something is. Maybe distraction isn't the approach here, but something more...]
Does it reassure you any, to hear that I ate fine during my lunch break? Not long before the power went out. I promise.
No. [It should, though, shouldn't it? But no, there's no reassurance. He absorbs the knowledge as if it was a completely neutral fact, feeling nothing at all about it. He scrubs at his face.] Doesn't make me feel bad. I know that's a good thing. Like, objectively.
If things are working normally, then you shouldn't lose power. But it's not like the power loss was normal. No proof the drain won't increase. No proof you won't suddenly start drawing more power accidentally. No proof something else won't happen. [It's easy to travel down this particular emotional spiral of paranoia. No comfort, all concern.]
[Papyrus visibly considers these notions, compares them with what he remembers of the last several months - no proof those memories are real either, considering, but working with what he's got...]
Yeah, I guess that's a good point. Okay, watch on! And if you want a book, for while you watch, we can go grab one from my room.
[Of course, there's a couple coffee table books about space, space telescopes, and so on to be found in the living room already.]
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spaghettimonster) wrote2021-07-31 02:32 am
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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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That's no problem, I'm not in a hurry! [Reassurance, maybe forgiveness? Is forgiveness a thing Sans might be wanting, with that frustrated voice? Papyrus offers it up anyway, just in case.] I don't seem all numb, anyway. I was having a great time brainstorming power generators.
[The tones in his voice, the expressions on his face, they're genuine in their optimism and amusement and kindness. The unshadowed positivity might seem fake compared to a normal Papyrus, but they're miles more real compared to his leech behavior, or the incomplete mask he put on while genuinely numbing out.]
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[So he can make sure Papyrus doesn't lose his charge or have some dramatic emotional change or turn into a gooey puddle or whatever else. Could be almost anything.]
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Papyrus shifts in place to maximize the comfort, fidgets with his wire hair to get it to some kind of aesthetic, and hums thoughtfully at nothing visible. The tracker's giving him... some kind of bizarre message, not based on any of the preset alerts. A discrepancy with duplication? Was it doing some backup upload when the power went out, and now it's trying and failing to complete it...?]
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Hmm... You're not wrong... Relatively safe, then? Since some of the dangers are too big and omni-present to do much about.
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Does it reassure you any, to hear that I ate fine during my lunch break? Not long before the power went out. I promise.
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[He just doesn't feel anything about it.]
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[He's not sure whether conviction, in that sense, is a feeling - let alone one like Sans seems too low to really feel.]
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Yeah, I guess that's a good point. Okay, watch on! And if you want a book, for while you watch, we can go grab one from my room.
[Of course, there's a couple coffee table books about space, space telescopes, and so on to be found in the living room already.]
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can't deny that worry has some merit - fearlessness leads to kender behavior
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