[It'll be okay, Papyrus knows. Even if it turns out he needs to hunker down and do expensive repair work on himself, he's always been more durable than his brother and he's even more durable now. And with his newly stubborn electric soul, there's likely nowhere in his body the damage could transfer to outright kill him for real. (...Angels have some associations that, maybe, could mean the same thing for Sans. Theoretically. But they can't be sure without testing it, and there's no way Papyrus will choose to let that happen - not when there's every risk that the stolen chunk below would pull the rest of him to it, and mean his brother would be stuck out of reach indefinitely. It's not an acceptable risk.)
He sets these reminders to periodically populate in his awareness the next several hours, and braces himself just in time for cracks to spread up his left arm abruptly and severely enough for a couple fingers to come loose. The whole thing burns like someone's been mis-soldering inside it again, or like a stubborn electrical soul flared out at the wrong moment. But more urgently, a sudden crack in his torso breaks directly through his main internal fan, warping a blade such that it scratches the hell out of that cavity before breaking loose.
Papyrus forces the fan off, gritting his jaw as he tries and fails to turn off the pain receptors in his arm, tries and succeeds at not obviously collapsing over it. There's a few other errors chiming for his attention - something in his hip, something in his right temple port, and now that he's squinting up at Sans's partly repaired limbs he can hear a faint musical melody from everything red, pink, or similarly colored in sight... And he has no idea what's causing that kind of synesthesia error.]
...Okay. I can only imagine... How much pain you were in, there. [His voice isn't strained with the pain, but only because the recorded quality of it is more monotone than usual. His face would be giving some of it away. There's no point really hiding it, but he can point out his minimal regrets by adding:] I didn't even know you could be that injured.
[Sans can't flinch away from watching the injuries spiderweb across Papyrus's body. If he could, seeing the familiar line of the way Papyrus's torso breaks would have done it. He's not coherent enough to regret, exactly; all he can manage is a general, awful upset that creeps out into a small, wretched noise. It's good that Papyrus is still speaking, because Sans doesn't know what he would have done if Papyrus had crumbled under the pain. But Papyrus has always been tougher than him. Sans didn't know he could be this injured, either.]
It was--trying to fix me. [And there's that laughter from before, bubbling up unevenly now that Sans is healed enough to be an awake kind of delirious again.] No killing intent. [Isn't that hilarious? It would have killed him eventually anyway, but look how long he lasted like that.]
Fix you? [There's just a little emphasis to make up for the forced monotone of his voice hiding the incredulity he feels, but again it shows on his face.] If that was... taking your changes. Why your hand?
[He doesn't actually expect Sans to have an answer, and doesn't mean to interrogate his still-injured brother about it. But it's still habit to demand answers even when there's no expectation of getting them, a habit extra reinforced by some of the memories of other outcomes underground. It's still something to maybe distract his brother with while he carefully rests his left arm in a minimally painful position and then halts its motion there.]
Infection. [Sans remembers that; even as it had gotten more and more difficult to focus on anything but the pain, the insistence that Sans was infected had been repeated enough to stick.] Said it was... Ruining the canyon. [Another half-hysterical laugh--as if he's the problem. He knows what's ruining the canyon, and you can't take a scalpel to it.
The eyes are starting to reappear in their places on the walls. Sans is still hurt, but at least he isn't dying anymore.]
[Between his own line of sight and the helicopter still floating about, he catches both the expressions on Sans's face and the flickering of eyes back into being. That latter's good, at least. He still scoffs a half-static sound in agreement with the laugh, because really.]
Seems a little confused. A little lost! Too bad nobody gave this helpful human a map. [Not sincere - he doesn't want anyone else going underground, not even those so strangely careful as to do this much damage nonlethally. It's better if nobody goes underground.
...And they've got enough mess to clean up as is. All the dust to gather, so it doesn't get mixed up with regular trash... He shoots the rhoomba a message, directing it to avoid this area until further notice.]
[Sans is stuck on the floor unless Papyrus moves him or he decides to risk another shortcut. Aside from a growing urge to stretch his wings, he isn't exactly in a hurry to start jumping around, but he doesn't like not being able to so much as twitch.
A moment later and he's trying to will himself to move, desperate, because his reappearing eyes have caught sight of someone outside. Sans's scramble isn't evident until his extra arms appear, lit up with magic, as he tries to drag himself that way.] No, no, outside, they're-- [Sans hisses as he pulls himself forward just enough to set his broken leg throbbing again.
There's someone outside on the lawn--someone with pink eyes and shadows pooling around their feet.]
[Even while trying to commiserate with his brother's hysterical laughter, Papyrus begins revising his multitasking priorities. Putting the pause on the dust cleaning, setting his arm to minimize the pain even if he can't seem to disable to pain yet, but also things like plotting his repair order, and the question of how best to set Sans's leg, or to ask if there's other less visible injuries left...]
What? [It's too many tasks to divide his attention between, when he's in pain himself. He pauses a few of those tasks, diverts his attention back. It looks like Sans has shifted and is now visibly upset, talking about outside. Papyrus doesn't actually have to stand to take a quick look, not with the front door's camera (the better to spot approaching delivery drivers) and the helicopter rising and changing course just at the idea of doing so.] Wait, what?
[There's motion in the yard, an unfamiliar figure of the mostly-human variety of monster, with shadows and oddly bright eyes and little else, but...] Wait, that's them?! Weren't you in the ruins?? [It's illegal for other monsters to be teleporting, now!]
Yeah, I don't know, how'd they even find our house-- [Sans tries pulling himself up with his extra arms again; his leg throbs, but he's expecting it now, so he gets a little farther, a bit closer to the couch, before he has to stop and take a break. Outside, the monster isn't moving; not approaching the house, but undeniably watching it. Examining the outside, maybe. And still standing in the yard. Maybe Sans shouldn't be wasting his magic on dragging himself across the floor.] Might be... Able to shortcut again. [He won't leave without Papyrus, though. Even then, he's not sure where they'd go if that thing is just going to follow him.]
[Yeah, Sans probably shouldn't be squirming around purposelessly like that. And Papyrus could stand to be jumping into action, like picking his brother up to help get him to safety. But they're both in pain, surprise and distraction enough not to think these things through right away. This danger isn't coming with the dubiously convenient warning of a kid covered in dust to make the nature of the situation clear, after all.]
Wait, don't wear yourself out yet. [His attention's flickering between their respective states, and keeping an digital view on the mystery monster. Not approaching, but watching...?] M-Maybe it knew the address... That's on record. Or it might have been stalking... well, me, I don't check for people following me. [Some regrets, there, but it hasn't actually been a problem before.] So, somewhere we don't normally go...?
[What's a good place to avoid weird monsters, though?]
Somewhere inside. [Sans doesn't want to be outside like this even without the guy who caused it lurking around, even if he wouldn't mind the comfort of a graveyard right now. But the places Sans can think of aren't workable; he's not chancing taking that thing to Jemma's house, the dig site and museum are closed for the evening... Is a grocery store or something like that a good idea? The hotel? Those are all places they go regularly.] Dunno. [This isn't the best time for Sans to be trying to come up with a plan, of course. Not a great time for either of them to be doing this. Sans stares up at the ceiling, but most of his visual attention is on the eyes that can see outside.
The monster outside starts circling out of Sans's field of view, going around to the back of the house.] Where're they going?
Shit. I don't... [Papyrus makes for the window, opening it to let the helicopter out. For one period of time, he'd surrounded the house in cameras. And then he'd felt silly about it, and taken them all down, only for a thief to sneak in a window. Now there's just a couple, and they don't cover a full 360 degree of the building - it takes until the monster is far enough around the corner for him to spot it with the outside view and send the copter drone over the rooftop.] Back yard. Maybe, maybe it saw the camera...?
[But even in pain and distress, Papyrus still isn't one to choose to take the blame for things like this, and he shoves the possibility aside to keep scrabbling for a sense of control here. He ducks down next to his brother, trying to gently lift on the side with the injured limbs.] Sans. You said it drugged you. How? If we go somewhere with people, and it manages to find us... [Would they be putting random bystanders in danger, he means.]
Needle. I think. In my wing. [Sans is entirely limp in Papyrus's grip, but aside from his leg, his left half is mostly injury-free. Still, lifting Sans up is going to let his wings unfold and hang, limp but in nine feet of the way.
The monster is standing in the backyard now, watching. It's examining the potential entrances.]
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spaghettimonster) wrote2021-07-31 02:32 am
no subject
He sets these reminders to periodically populate in his awareness the next several hours, and braces himself just in time for cracks to spread up his left arm abruptly and severely enough for a couple fingers to come loose. The whole thing burns like someone's been mis-soldering inside it again, or like a stubborn electrical soul flared out at the wrong moment. But more urgently, a sudden crack in his torso breaks directly through his main internal fan, warping a blade such that it scratches the hell out of that cavity before breaking loose.
Papyrus forces the fan off, gritting his jaw as he tries and fails to turn off the pain receptors in his arm, tries and succeeds at not obviously collapsing over it. There's a few other errors chiming for his attention - something in his hip, something in his right temple port, and now that he's squinting up at Sans's partly repaired limbs he can hear a faint musical melody from everything red, pink, or similarly colored in sight... And he has no idea what's causing that kind of synesthesia error.]
...Okay. I can only imagine... How much pain you were in, there. [His voice isn't strained with the pain, but only because the recorded quality of it is more monotone than usual. His face would be giving some of it away. There's no point really hiding it, but he can point out his minimal regrets by adding:] I didn't even know you could be that injured.
no subject
It was--trying to fix me. [And there's that laughter from before, bubbling up unevenly now that Sans is healed enough to be an awake kind of delirious again.] No killing intent. [Isn't that hilarious? It would have killed him eventually anyway, but look how long he lasted like that.]
no subject
[He doesn't actually expect Sans to have an answer, and doesn't mean to interrogate his still-injured brother about it. But it's still habit to demand answers even when there's no expectation of getting them, a habit extra reinforced by some of the memories of other outcomes underground. It's still something to maybe distract his brother with while he carefully rests his left arm in a minimally painful position and then halts its motion there.]
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The eyes are starting to reappear in their places on the walls. Sans is still hurt, but at least he isn't dying anymore.]
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Seems a little confused. A little lost! Too bad nobody gave this helpful human a map. [Not sincere - he doesn't want anyone else going underground, not even those so strangely careful as to do this much damage nonlethally. It's better if nobody goes underground.
...And they've got enough mess to clean up as is. All the dust to gather, so it doesn't get mixed up with regular trash... He shoots the rhoomba a message, directing it to avoid this area until further notice.]
no subject
A moment later and he's trying to will himself to move, desperate, because his reappearing eyes have caught sight of someone outside. Sans's scramble isn't evident until his extra arms appear, lit up with magic, as he tries to drag himself that way.] No, no, outside, they're-- [Sans hisses as he pulls himself forward just enough to set his broken leg throbbing again.
There's someone outside on the lawn--someone with pink eyes and shadows pooling around their feet.]
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What? [It's too many tasks to divide his attention between, when he's in pain himself. He pauses a few of those tasks, diverts his attention back. It looks like Sans has shifted and is now visibly upset, talking about outside. Papyrus doesn't actually have to stand to take a quick look, not with the front door's camera (the better to spot approaching delivery drivers) and the helicopter rising and changing course just at the idea of doing so.] Wait, what?
[There's motion in the yard, an unfamiliar figure of the mostly-human variety of monster, with shadows and oddly bright eyes and little else, but...] Wait, that's them?! Weren't you in the ruins?? [It's illegal for other monsters to be teleporting, now!]
no subject
no subject
Wait, don't wear yourself out yet. [His attention's flickering between their respective states, and keeping an digital view on the mystery monster. Not approaching, but watching...?] M-Maybe it knew the address... That's on record. Or it might have been stalking... well, me, I don't check for people following me. [Some regrets, there, but it hasn't actually been a problem before.] So, somewhere we don't normally go...?
[What's a good place to avoid weird monsters, though?]
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The monster outside starts circling out of Sans's field of view, going around to the back of the house.] Where're they going?
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[But even in pain and distress, Papyrus still isn't one to choose to take the blame for things like this, and he shoves the possibility aside to keep scrabbling for a sense of control here. He ducks down next to his brother, trying to gently lift on the side with the injured limbs.] Sans. You said it drugged you. How? If we go somewhere with people, and it manages to find us... [Would they be putting random bystanders in danger, he means.]
no subject
The monster is standing in the backyard now, watching. It's examining the potential entrances.]