* Smells like salty slush.

[bleakdrake]

It stands near the edge. Not for any particular reason; the edge is merely where they first appeared.

She's barely aware of the change, expressions as blank as they could manage. The clouds are close enough to the room in the Lab where it stayed that they're almost comfortable, or at least as comfortable as a mass of creatures fused together and kept from their families (and so losing itself) could ever possibly be.

Anyone else stumbling over them, however, will likely be...far more uncomfortable. An icy-dusty-melting creature, looming in the foggy banks where it'll seem she simply appears despite not moving a step.

The only warning--the only clue that she's even there for those not particularly searching for something along the edge--that they're there is her voice, cracking and exhausted and chilling, drifting over the wind.

"Sn...ow...y..."

Comments

[sansational]

Whenever she does stop, Sans stops as well. He looks back at them, but they're always right where he expects it to be, visible through the fog. He still waits patiently until she starts shambling after him again, and only then does he turn away and carry on.

Eventually, the fog begins to thin and fade around them. The trees of the forest become visible in the distance, and slowly, the warmth of the sunlight starts to filter down again. When the mist is nothing more than tattered shreds around them, Sans stops again. He looks back at Frostdrake, and gesture up at the vast expanse of blue sky overhead.

"ta-da."

[bleakdrake]

It takes a few moments for all the separate minds to register what he means, which results in her head very slowly bobbing before properly angling upwards--and then they all gasp, nearly falling as vertigo hits them.

Their form is lost a little, and it's so beautiful, and they chatter to themselves. Sans will catch snatches of words in a few different voices, like blue and up and worked, worked, worked and then they're standing up, a leafy-feathered wing reaching (stretching) as if trying to touch a few whispy clouds above.

[sansational]

Despite himself, Sans smiles, and it doesn't even hurt to do so. It's a little hard to tell on that face, but that definitely seems to be a basically happy sort of reaction. "yeah," he murmurs, staring up at the sky with her. "blue, blue, blue." He hadn't previously thought that anything quite so blue could ever possibly exist, before coming here.

On a whim, he sits himself down on the grass. They might need a minute or two to properly get oriented, and it's not as though he's really in a rush to go anywhere or lead them anywhere. They can enjoy the weather for a little bit, if she wants to.

"we don't know where we are, or where the underground is in relation to any of this. but there are definitely worse places to get stuck all over again."