[Sans assumes it's Papyrus who's making it vibrate more aggressively than usual, anyway. It's distracting and he doesn't like it. It's too tactile and loud and bad. A second later Sans will actually address what Papyrus said, though.]
[Like the smoothie had been, to a Sans who didn't want any sensory distractions. It doesn't occur to Papyrus that just because he's not currently actively hacking the phone, doesn't mean some echo of him might be doing so - out of some parallel concerns to test and prod.
Tracker, meanwhile, resets the vibration on these texts. The 'too loud' accusation is a key phrase flagged for notice in relation to space, with summary instructions to try to snap Sans out of it - not instigate a fight. It doesn't occur to him that turning it down right after the request might accidentally frame Papyrus.]
[But also yes, the vibration is annoying even when it's quiet. Still, this is better. Papyrus is more attached to technology than ever, though (literally), so if Sans keeps reminding himself of that, he can deal with it as long as it's Papyrus. Still, Papyrus is obviously the one messing with his settings, if it got turned down as soon as he complained.
Sans is about to continue the conversation, about to point that out, when everything lights up. Sans's senses and thoughts and self go blindingly bright, too, to the point he broadcasts that raw spiritual energy through the phone. It's a sharp-edged light, though it's not the first time Sans has done this, so maybe Papyrus won't be caught entirely off-guard. Still, no comprehensible message follows it.]
[It would be easy to bicker and keep bickering about this, texting freely as he heads to the door to linger on the porch and stare at the sky.
But he staggers midway, the world lighting up around and within. He recovers rather than fall over, but mainly because he automates the motion to sit on the floor, letting his body settle as his mind races.]
OH MY GOD, THAT'S BETTER I THINK THEY FIXED THE POWER, EVERYWHERE???
[Looking at space is a hit or miss, but the canyon is humming with electricity and resuming signals like it hasn't for months, and he hadn't realized how comforting the feeling is. If his emotions were at full strength, he might've started crying.]
Generally speaking, Sans reappears in the living room. Specifically speaking, his light appears before he does, cutting through the yellow tones of artificial light with something that isn't the quite right shade to be sunlight.
Outside. It's very. Dark, and. And so now. He's here. So.
Sans's eyes fall on Papyrus. They aren't black pits; all of his eye sockets are completely filled with light. It's difficult to distinguish Sans's edges, lost in the center of the light as he is.]
[Maybe it's that the artificial lights are intimidated by the spiritual not-sunlight, and that's why they begin flickering when Sans arrives. But Papyrus's cybernetic eyes glow brighter with each flicker, subconsciously pulling on the electrical power now available to him without needing to plug into anything, or even touch any of it.
This looks worse than any of Sans's usual spaced out states, and he frowns, pushing to his feet.]
Quieter, you said... Is that why you're being all quiet now?
[The staring and light are a little intimidating, but somehow Papyrus feels plenty empowered to stare right back. He's strong enough to handle it, if Sans's invisible hands go knocking furniture around.]
[Sans watches Papyrus, unblinking. Papyrus's presence makes Sans feel--something. Grounded isn't the right word. Maybe there's not a word. That's fine.]
The dark's too dark, and the whispering's too loud. [Because it's not the first time Sans has heard the whispering. He hears it all the time, on and off, hissing out of the missing parts of his soul. But now it's so loud.] It's safer inside. [Relatively. It's all relativity. Or something.] But--can't think. Hurts. [Which is why he was quiet. Or one of the reasons. The reason he thinks Papyrus will understand while Papyrus is like this.]
[Papyrus doesn't blink, but his eyes flicker down to Sans's chest, drawing up screenshots of the last time he'd seen his brother's damaged soul.]
The whispering...?
[It's an echo requesting confirmation, that Sans means the creepy whispering, and not that he's suddenly gained the power to hear all the sudden calls and texts and network chatter with the restored power. He glances around, too, gauging the light quality and comparing it to other lights. Almost sunlight, but not quite. And Sans is complaining about the dark... Clearly they should go get the sunlamp, and settle down with unpainful things.
His thoughts transmit to Sans's phone, a text with an image of the lamp, a mockup sketch of them on the couch with heated blanket to cocoon, audio clips of conversation and laughter from back in Grillby's - the furthest from space it gets.]
Yeah. Too loud and everywhere. [Sans is glowing brightly enough for the outline of his soul to be seen through his shirt. There's the usual 90% of it where it usually is, but the 10% that's missing is all scratchy, static light. Not normal at all.
Sans's phone vibrates and Sans flinches at the sound and feel of it. His extra arms all appear at once, glowing just as bright as the rest of him, and he scoops up his phone with one like he's handling something dangerous. Another, smaller flinch when his phone starts playing audio at him. He focuses on the lamp and closes the message as quickly as possible.]
Okay. [Lamp. Couch. Sure. He can't get out of the canyon. He's trapped. Maybe the lamp will help. Sans flickers to the couch, teleportation gone slightly awry, his body skipping visibly like a broken television set for a second before his form settles on his usual spot on the couch.]
[The sight of the surprisingly visible soul is not a welcome one, considering the static and the report of whispering. The skipping teleportation even less so. And the sound briefly coming from Sans's phone, suspiciously like the memories he'd just been thinking of...?
Papyrus stares at it all, baffled. Did those lights outside do something? Did Papyrus accidentally text something..? It wouldn't be the first time it's happened since he revived those scant days before his birthday, but a quick internal poke doesn't reveal anything in his text history... weird. Some new weirdness is clearly happening.]
I'll... be right back.
[It's a lower volume promise, in nod to Sans's clear distress about sound. If there's no protest, he makes for the stairs and makes his way up as quietly as he speedily can, the best to grab lamp and heated blanket and head back without delay.]
[It was impossible to see the eyes on the wall in the living room with Sans lighting it up, but in the rest of the house it's obvious that all the eyes have changed. Much like the ones on Sans's body, the drawn eye sockets have filled entirely with light. Unlike Sans's physical eye sockets, however, the ones on the wall flicker haphazardly in and out of existence.
Sans hasn't moved from his spot on the couch, but the lampshade has been removed from the nearest lamp, and Sans is staring directly into the light. He doesn't even acknowledge Papyrus's return; with the way his eyes are right now, it's impossible to tell what directions his halo is even looking in.
Sans's cell phone is on the floor. It looks like he might have dropped it.]
[Okay, with a little delay. Papyrus has to pause in the hallway and stare at the flickering lights of the wall eyes for a few seconds. The glowing is a new feature, to the best of his memory, even if it makes sense that the eyes connected to Sans could be more points for magic leakage.
Is this more distressed glowing, the better to keep the dark away...? But he's not feeling the oppressive weight of death and rot this time. If anything, Papyrus is feeling increasingly energized and comforted by the returned power. Weird! Weird but welcome, because it means he's not struggling with things.
He doesn't bother being as quiet on the way back downstairs, sure that he's making the right call in grabbing light and warmth, and wanting to get it to his brother ASAP. Maybe it's just as well that Sans is doing his best moth imitation on Papyrus's return... It makes it that much easier to plug both things in and start arranging them, while he glances at the phone.]
Hey, don't go dropping that - if you want to be safe, it's safer if I can get in touch with you, when you go disappearing.
[Teleporting off to random parts of the canyon or literally disappearing to float around invisibly alike. An absent-minded gesture towards the phone to show Sans what he means is strengthened by all the power he's absorbing - it lifts and slides back onto the couch beside them.]
[Like a sunflower, Sans turns toward the sun lamp as soon as it's on. Having the blanket draped on him makes him flinch, just a little. He was expecting it, so it wasn't too bad, and he likes the warmth. Still, the feeling of the blanket itself--well, it's not the blanket's fault it's made of matter. It's impossible to tell, but Sans does use his halo to look at the phone when Papyrus brings it up.]
My arms stopped working. [A classic sibling excuse, but Sans actually means it. He'd been holding it in one of his extra hands, and hadn't wanted to get up to retrieve it.]
[There's real skepticism in his voice and face, deep and full of years of good reasons to be skeptical. But, it's also been too many months in this world where weird things happen to bodies and minds to entirely write it off. It's not impossible.
And it's not impossible for Sans to know he knows that, and bullshit an excuse relying on it. He sighs, glances down in preparation for grabbing the phone, then scans his surroundings to find it. On the couch next to Sans like it should be, right where he'd meant to put it. Weird.]
Yeah, okay, are they working now? You moved like that light's helping.
[He's assuming Sans took the phone once called on it and Papyrus glanced away, or else teleportation has extended to teleporting objects without him.]
[Sans doesn't turn away from the light, but all of his extra arms light up again. They're flickering wildly--it would be dangerous to someone with photosensitivity. Beyond that, they keep splitting up, abstracting into concepts, before reforming again. This is dangerous to anyone who doesn't see the world in quantum mechanics.]
They're not working. Been trying to make 'em stay conceptual. [He's aiming for abstract, for something that isn't arms at all, but it's not at all reliable.]
[The slow sounds are less skepticism than consideration, as Papyrus frowns at the flickering abstractions a moment, and has to outright stop himself from processing them. Not as badly error-generating and reality-piercing as previous nonsense, but they're up there.]
Okay, yeah. Your powers are... They're definitely going haywire. Are your physical hands working?
[Are Sans's physical hands still there, a split second's glance has to assess. But Papyrus is getting the sense it's not really essential for his brother to actively holding the phone. Something about the device seems so... fluid, so customizable. Maybe it could be wrist watch, so hands aren't part of the equation. The electrical lights flicker again as he feels that odd sense of metal-like-magic, waiting to be shaped.]
[Sans raises one of his hands. Then the other. It's, ironically, a very mechanical motion. He drops them back down as soon as he's done showing Papyrus they work.] Don't like 'em. [And he's too far gone to even realize that's probably kind of an alarming statement, because he doesn't clarify.]
[Yeah, that's alarming. Partly because of that lack of clarification, because that's not the kind of thing Sans usually admits - not to Papyrus - without adding something on. But partly...]
...Like I disliked my body, when everything was dead?
[Which... maybe that description is a little alarming right back. But really, the intensity of that certainty that they were all dead when everything was rotting and horrible, it sticks out in a roboskeleton's memory. He's sure Sans will know what he means.]
Yes. No. Sort of. [Since it's not a matter of wanting a different body.] I don't want one. A body. Shouldn't have one. [Monsters aren't made of much matter, and Sans hasn't exactly gotten more as he's been here, but even this is too much.]
[Papyrus goes from confused frown to alarm to comprehension in 0.93 seconds.] Oh, you're super voiding again.
[But in a scared and pained kind of way, rather than getting all analytical or philosophical, let alone aggressive in getting rid of intrusive sounds... No, wait.]
And upset about sounds, again. [Is the problem partly that Sans can't get rid of the sounds, here? It's not like he can attack his own soul to get rid of the whispers - well, hopefully not, and that's not an idea that Papyrus is letting leave his skull. But he grinds his teeth for 0.34 seconds, then tries a hopefully less dangerous suggestion.] Would... I don't want to suggest this, because I don't know what you'll do with it. But, in case it helps, and because I'm a helpful brother who cares: would going all intangible help any?
[Sans vanishes. There's a stretch of nothing. Then, the flickering impossibility of one of Sans's extra arms appears, lays itself over top of Sans's cell phone, and it and the phone vanish.
A moment later, a text from Sans.]
this is better
[Not perfect, but better. He'd rather not have the phone with him, but somewhere in his mind he still recognizes Papyrus. Papyrus is important, and the way they are here, Sans can't talk to Papyrus without the phone if he's intangible. A compromise.]
Edited (oops forgot the font) 2022-10-12 20:56 (UTC)
[Might be, more like, but nobody needs that kind of accuracy here. This is a bittersweet triumph, but what the hell, he'll take it. Sustained discomfort with one's body, well... Well. He can't get his bones back, but he can redesign what he has, and in a way that puts him one up on Sans's situation.
In a parallel, diverging train of thought, there's a real humming sense to everything technological, isn't there? Not whispering, but... Energy flowing towards him, into him, pleasantly cordless. His limbs feel particularly malleable, like he could... heh, yes, extend an arm and shift some internal features to get a hint of red glow in some of the joints. Not at all the same, but something of an echo of his brother's! That's fun. And only maybe distressing to watch.]
[Sans is floating, absorbing the nothingness as much as he can while still lingering near Papyrus and the sun lamp. As far as Sans is concerned, Papyrus isn't supposed to have a body either, so between that and how scattered and distracted his thoughts are, he's operating on a bit of a time lag when it comes to noticing how Papyrus's arm changes. The text comes several seconds after Papyrus changes things up.]
It's fine! [He grins and flexes it in demonstration, flips it palm up to examine just what changed to make this effect.] I turned off the pain receptors while changing it, but they're on again and nothing hurts. What do you think, does it look like yours?
[Belatedly, he remembers the whole reason Sans went intangible in the first place. Processing power for parallel trains of thought is no guarantee he'll keep actively thinking about things, sometimes... The amused and self-satisfied grin fades to something more forced, but doesn't fade entirely.]
[Reminded of the body he's trapped in, Sans flickers briefly into visibility, though he's still intangible. That's good, because in those few moments where he can be seen, he's taking up a strange amount of space, like he's unspooled his body into ribbons of light and pushed the matter as far away as he can get it. Then he's invisible again.]
the glowing is good [The glowing is correct, he thinks. Or closer to correct. That's more how they should be.]
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spaghettimonster) wrote2021-07-31 02:32 am
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[Sans assumes it's Papyrus who's making it vibrate more aggressively than usual, anyway. It's distracting and he doesn't like it. It's too tactile and loud and bad. A second later Sans will actually address what Papyrus said, though.]
yes come outside
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MAYBE IT'S JUST 'TOO LOUD' AGAIN.
[Like the smoothie had been, to a Sans who didn't want any sensory distractions. It doesn't occur to Papyrus that just because he's not currently actively hacking the phone, doesn't mean some echo of him might be doing so - out of some parallel concerns to test and prod.
Tracker, meanwhile, resets the vibration on these texts. The 'too loud' accusation is a key phrase flagged for notice in relation to space, with summary instructions to try to snap Sans out of it - not instigate a fight. It doesn't occur to him that turning it down right after the request might accidentally frame Papyrus.]
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yes
but it's quieter now
[But also yes, the vibration is annoying even when it's quiet. Still, this is better. Papyrus is more attached to technology than ever, though (literally), so if Sans keeps reminding himself of that, he can deal with it as long as it's Papyrus. Still, Papyrus is obviously the one messing with his settings, if it got turned down as soon as he complained.
Sans is about to continue the conversation, about to point that out, when everything lights up. Sans's senses and thoughts and self go blindingly bright, too, to the point he broadcasts that raw spiritual energy through the phone. It's a sharp-edged light, though it's not the first time Sans has done this, so maybe Papyrus won't be caught entirely off-guard. Still, no comprehensible message follows it.]
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But he staggers midway, the world lighting up around and within. He recovers rather than fall over, but mainly because he automates the motion to sit on the floor, letting his body settle as his mind races.]
OH MY GOD, THAT'S BETTER
I THINK THEY FIXED THE POWER, EVERYWHERE???
[Looking at space is a hit or miss, but the canyon is humming with electricity and resuming signals like it hasn't for months, and he hadn't realized how comforting the feeling is. If his emotions were at full strength, he might've started crying.]
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Generally speaking, Sans reappears in the living room. Specifically speaking, his light appears before he does, cutting through the yellow tones of artificial light with something that isn't the quite right shade to be sunlight.
Outside. It's very. Dark, and. And so now. He's here. So.
Sans's eyes fall on Papyrus. They aren't black pits; all of his eye sockets are completely filled with light. It's difficult to distinguish Sans's edges, lost in the center of the light as he is.]
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This looks worse than any of Sans's usual spaced out states, and he frowns, pushing to his feet.]
Quieter, you said... Is that why you're being all quiet now?
[The staring and light are a little intimidating, but somehow Papyrus feels plenty empowered to stare right back. He's strong enough to handle it, if Sans's invisible hands go knocking furniture around.]
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The dark's too dark, and the whispering's too loud. [Because it's not the first time Sans has heard the whispering. He hears it all the time, on and off, hissing out of the missing parts of his soul. But now it's so loud.] It's safer inside. [Relatively. It's all relativity. Or something.] But--can't think. Hurts. [Which is why he was quiet. Or one of the reasons. The reason he thinks Papyrus will understand while Papyrus is like this.]
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The whispering...?
[It's an echo requesting confirmation, that Sans means the creepy whispering, and not that he's suddenly gained the power to hear all the sudden calls and texts and network chatter with the restored power. He glances around, too, gauging the light quality and comparing it to other lights. Almost sunlight, but not quite. And Sans is complaining about the dark... Clearly they should go get the sunlamp, and settle down with unpainful things.
His thoughts transmit to Sans's phone, a text with an image of the lamp, a mockup sketch of them on the couch with heated blanket to cocoon, audio clips of conversation and laughter from back in Grillby's - the furthest from space it gets.]
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Sans's phone vibrates and Sans flinches at the sound and feel of it. His extra arms all appear at once, glowing just as bright as the rest of him, and he scoops up his phone with one like he's handling something dangerous. Another, smaller flinch when his phone starts playing audio at him. He focuses on the lamp and closes the message as quickly as possible.]
Okay. [Lamp. Couch. Sure. He can't get out of the canyon. He's trapped. Maybe the lamp will help. Sans flickers to the couch, teleportation gone slightly awry, his body skipping visibly like a broken television set for a second before his form settles on his usual spot on the couch.]
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Papyrus stares at it all, baffled. Did those lights outside do something? Did Papyrus accidentally text something..? It wouldn't be the first time it's happened since he revived those scant days before his birthday, but a quick internal poke doesn't reveal anything in his text history... weird. Some new weirdness is clearly happening.]
I'll... be right back.
[It's a lower volume promise, in nod to Sans's clear distress about sound. If there's no protest, he makes for the stairs and makes his way up as quietly as he speedily can, the best to grab lamp and heated blanket and head back without delay.]
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Sans hasn't moved from his spot on the couch, but the lampshade has been removed from the nearest lamp, and Sans is staring directly into the light. He doesn't even acknowledge Papyrus's return; with the way his eyes are right now, it's impossible to tell what directions his halo is even looking in.
Sans's cell phone is on the floor. It looks like he might have dropped it.]
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Is this more distressed glowing, the better to keep the dark away...? But he's not feeling the oppressive weight of death and rot this time. If anything, Papyrus is feeling increasingly energized and comforted by the returned power. Weird! Weird but welcome, because it means he's not struggling with things.
He doesn't bother being as quiet on the way back downstairs, sure that he's making the right call in grabbing light and warmth, and wanting to get it to his brother ASAP. Maybe it's just as well that Sans is doing his best moth imitation on Papyrus's return... It makes it that much easier to plug both things in and start arranging them, while he glances at the phone.]
Hey, don't go dropping that - if you want to be safe, it's safer if I can get in touch with you, when you go disappearing.
[Teleporting off to random parts of the canyon or literally disappearing to float around invisibly alike. An absent-minded gesture towards the phone to show Sans what he means is strengthened by all the power he's absorbing - it lifts and slides back onto the couch beside them.]
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My arms stopped working. [A classic sibling excuse, but Sans actually means it. He'd been holding it in one of his extra hands, and hadn't wanted to get up to retrieve it.]
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[There's real skepticism in his voice and face, deep and full of years of good reasons to be skeptical. But, it's also been too many months in this world where weird things happen to bodies and minds to entirely write it off. It's not impossible.
And it's not impossible for Sans to know he knows that, and bullshit an excuse relying on it. He sighs, glances down in preparation for grabbing the phone, then scans his surroundings to find it. On the couch next to Sans like it should be, right where he'd meant to put it. Weird.]
Yeah, okay, are they working now? You moved like that light's helping.
[He's assuming Sans took the phone once called on it and Papyrus glanced away, or else teleportation has extended to teleporting objects without him.]
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They're not working. Been trying to make 'em stay conceptual. [He's aiming for abstract, for something that isn't arms at all, but it's not at all reliable.]
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[The slow sounds are less skepticism than consideration, as Papyrus frowns at the flickering abstractions a moment, and has to outright stop himself from processing them. Not as badly error-generating and reality-piercing as previous nonsense, but they're up there.]
Okay, yeah. Your powers are... They're definitely going haywire. Are your physical hands working?
[Are Sans's physical hands still there, a split second's glance has to assess. But Papyrus is getting the sense it's not really essential for his brother to actively holding the phone. Something about the device seems so... fluid, so customizable. Maybe it could be wrist watch, so hands aren't part of the equation. The electrical lights flicker again as he feels that odd sense of metal-like-magic, waiting to be shaped.]
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...Like I disliked my body, when everything was dead?
[Which... maybe that description is a little alarming right back. But really, the intensity of that certainty that they were all dead when everything was rotting and horrible, it sticks out in a roboskeleton's memory. He's sure Sans will know what he means.]
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[But in a scared and pained kind of way, rather than getting all analytical or philosophical, let alone aggressive in getting rid of intrusive sounds... No, wait.]
And upset about sounds, again. [Is the problem partly that Sans can't get rid of the sounds, here? It's not like he can attack his own soul to get rid of the whispers - well, hopefully not, and that's not an idea that Papyrus is letting leave his skull. But he grinds his teeth for 0.34 seconds, then tries a hopefully less dangerous suggestion.] Would... I don't want to suggest this, because I don't know what you'll do with it. But, in case it helps, and because I'm a helpful brother who cares: would going all intangible help any?
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A moment later, a text from Sans.]
this is better
[Not perfect, but better. He'd rather not have the phone with him, but somewhere in his mind he still recognizes Papyrus. Papyrus is important, and the way they are here, Sans can't talk to Papyrus without the phone if he's intangible. A compromise.]
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[Might be, more like, but nobody needs that kind of accuracy here. This is a bittersweet triumph, but what the hell, he'll take it. Sustained discomfort with one's body, well... Well. He can't get his bones back, but he can redesign what he has, and in a way that puts him one up on Sans's situation.
In a parallel, diverging train of thought, there's a real humming sense to everything technological, isn't there? Not whispering, but... Energy flowing towards him, into him, pleasantly cordless. His limbs feel particularly malleable, like he could... heh, yes, extend an arm and shift some internal features to get a hint of red glow in some of the joints. Not at all the same, but something of an echo of his brother's! That's fun. And only maybe distressing to watch.]
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is your arm ok?
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[Belatedly, he remembers the whole reason Sans went intangible in the first place. Processing power for parallel trains of thought is no guarantee he'll keep actively thinking about things, sometimes... The amused and self-satisfied grin fades to something more forced, but doesn't fade entirely.]
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the glowing is good [The glowing is correct, he thinks. Or closer to correct. That's more how they should be.]
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having a good time, having a good time
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