Sans the Skeleton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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castle_perrault2016-03-30 11:43 am
sansational) wrote in castle_perrault2016-03-30 11:43 am
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But summer has to come to an end sometime
Ever since S-4 talked Sans into sharing a room with him and Sans-Serif, sleep really has come a little easier. Not much - he still has bad dreams, they all do. But every little bit helps, especially when help is within arm's reach instead of on the other side of a door. Ever since hearing from Tauriel that the two babybones are also still suffering from bad dreams, Sans has been trying to find ways to help. But it's a problem that's stymied him for years to the point of giving up, so privately, he doesn't hold out too much hope.
It's been a relatively ordinary night - he read them both their story, tucked them in, and then curled up on the other side of S-4 from where Sans-Serif lay. Sleep came as quickly as it ever did. But whatever dreams Sans had, they were chased immediately from his head by the agony that awoke him, accompanied by the sharp crack of bone.
The pain jolts him upright, his hands scrabbling all over himself, searching for signs of damage. They finally come to rest on his own skull, and realize that it hasn't broken. It's just...shifted.
"no..."
More cracks like breaking twigs and shattered branches echo throughout the room. His fingers start to sharpen, he can feel his ribs expanding, each one accompanied by a gasp and a cry of pain from the skeleton. His marrow is on fire and burning him up from the inside out and no no no he has to get out of here...
Eventually, Sans makes it into the woods. But all that really does is ensure that he has enough room to finish transforming. By rights, it probably only takes a few hours, just like last time. But it's painful enough to feel as though it takes a lifetime. All he can do is lay on the ground and whimper and twitch, or else drag himself along in a futile attempt to escape the pain. All he can do is wait for it to finish happening.
Useless regrets and pointless despair chase themselves around his increasingly malformed skull. it's not fair, everything was supposed to be okay now, i was trying to be better, i promise i was...
Until even that level of thought is beyond him and he's reduced to begging senselessly. make it stop, please make it stop, i don't want to do this anymore, i made a mistake, please, Gaster...
At one point, he hears a voice in his head - a delusion, or a memory. it sounds like Frisk's voice, except not like their voice at all. Too late. Too late.
The forest has a new inhabitant, the next morning. The giant monster is something like a bear and something like a horse with a skull that more closely resembles that of a wolf. It's too big to go that deep into the trees, but it creeps around the edges of things. It keeps its distance from the castle, it treads carefully around any flowerbeds, but it's big enough to be easily noticed from a distance. Mostly, it can be found curled up in an apparent attempt to sleep, wherever the ground is clear enough for it to find room. Though whenever anyone approaches, one eyesocket opens to reveal a glowing blue orb of light within, and the creature lets out a wary growl.
Otherwise, it can mostly be found trying to eat. The fruit trees in particular will find themselves frequently raided, with some of them picked entirely clean. Hopefully no one was in the mood for lemons this week. The creature barely has to stretch its neck to gobble fruit whole off the branches.
This puts it somewhat at odds with the local birds, but even the most ornery peacock will beat a retreat whenever the beast parts its jaws just enough to let blue light bloom between its fangs.
It's been a relatively ordinary night - he read them both their story, tucked them in, and then curled up on the other side of S-4 from where Sans-Serif lay. Sleep came as quickly as it ever did. But whatever dreams Sans had, they were chased immediately from his head by the agony that awoke him, accompanied by the sharp crack of bone.
The pain jolts him upright, his hands scrabbling all over himself, searching for signs of damage. They finally come to rest on his own skull, and realize that it hasn't broken. It's just...shifted.
"no..."
More cracks like breaking twigs and shattered branches echo throughout the room. His fingers start to sharpen, he can feel his ribs expanding, each one accompanied by a gasp and a cry of pain from the skeleton. His marrow is on fire and burning him up from the inside out and no no no he has to get out of here...
Eventually, Sans makes it into the woods. But all that really does is ensure that he has enough room to finish transforming. By rights, it probably only takes a few hours, just like last time. But it's painful enough to feel as though it takes a lifetime. All he can do is lay on the ground and whimper and twitch, or else drag himself along in a futile attempt to escape the pain. All he can do is wait for it to finish happening.
Useless regrets and pointless despair chase themselves around his increasingly malformed skull. it's not fair, everything was supposed to be okay now, i was trying to be better, i promise i was...
Until even that level of thought is beyond him and he's reduced to begging senselessly. make it stop, please make it stop, i don't want to do this anymore, i made a mistake, please, Gaster...
At one point, he hears a voice in his head - a delusion, or a memory. it sounds like Frisk's voice, except not like their voice at all. Too late. Too late.
The forest has a new inhabitant, the next morning. The giant monster is something like a bear and something like a horse with a skull that more closely resembles that of a wolf. It's too big to go that deep into the trees, but it creeps around the edges of things. It keeps its distance from the castle, it treads carefully around any flowerbeds, but it's big enough to be easily noticed from a distance. Mostly, it can be found curled up in an apparent attempt to sleep, wherever the ground is clear enough for it to find room. Though whenever anyone approaches, one eyesocket opens to reveal a glowing blue orb of light within, and the creature lets out a wary growl.
Otherwise, it can mostly be found trying to eat. The fruit trees in particular will find themselves frequently raided, with some of them picked entirely clean. Hopefully no one was in the mood for lemons this week. The creature barely has to stretch its neck to gobble fruit whole off the branches.
This puts it somewhat at odds with the local birds, but even the most ornery peacock will beat a retreat whenever the beast parts its jaws just enough to let blue light bloom between its fangs.
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Still, even more importantly than that, he has his duties as a caring uncle, and that means making sure Frisk has a healthy breakfast. It took him a few tries to figure that one out, but now he feels reasonably confident that he knows how to help them start the day off right. It's hard to go wrong with an orange picked right off the tree, for example.
...Or it would be, if there were any oranges to pick. This morning, the tree is completely bare. The culprit isn't hard to find, either, given they're in the process of gulping down whole lemons.
"Excuse me, darling," he says to the monster with a hand on his hip. "You might be new here, but I would think the idea of sharing isn't only limited to my world."
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At least until the voice speaks up. The creature flinches visibly with shock - it hadn't heard the (stranger?) other monster approach at all. Its head whips round to glower at Mettaton, teeth bared, eyelights blazing...and then it hesitates.
It knows that face. It knows that voice. Except...you might be new here?
...it supposes that it is. The monster's expression breaks into something like a canine sort of grin, and it lets out several huffs of breath that are the closest it came come to a laugh.
Then, very deliberately, keeping its bright blue eyelights fixed on Mettaton the entire time, the creature leans its head up, takes a lemon carefully between its teeth, and bites down hard enough to send juice spraying.
"I'm hungry."
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"Yes, well, so are a lot of other people around here, my nibling included," he informs the monster. "So if you wouldn't mind not stripping the trees completely bare, I'd appreciate it."
Is there anything edible left around? Surely this monster can't have eaten everything.
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Good. This is good. Details are coming back. Fog's staying away. It knew if it just kept eating, that would work. That is how it works, isn't it?
"Eat inside." It glances down at itself, and then glances significantly over at Mettaton in an attempt to highlight the size differences between them. "Only choice." Its only choice, it means, though with speaking as much of an effort as it is then something is not unlikely to get lost in translation.
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Honestly.
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"Scary." It lifts a paw to motion at itself. It's not supposed to be here and it's not supposed to be like this and it has the marrow-deep sense that it's tired of fear and screaming.
"Plenty." It nods up at the trees. There are a lot of them, and it knows it hasn't picked every one of them clean. Why can't Mettaton just find one that it hasn't eaten up yet? As though in evidence of that fact, it much more gently tugs a lemon off the tree and stretches out its head towards Mettaton.
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He takes the lemon from the monster's jaws, saying much more gently, "Thank you, sweetheart, but I don't think Frisk would be too happy with me if I brought them a lemon for breakfast.
"And I wouldn't call you 'scary,'" he adds. "Speaking personally, 'handsome' is the word I'd use."
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And then the other monster carries on and...sweetheart and darling and Frisk and Mettaton, this is Mettaton.
...ordinarily, this might not be his favorite person to remember. But here and now, Sans just grins broadly and sits up a little straighter, the tip of his tail starting to wag a little where it remains draped over one foot.
He considers telling the truth, thinks about how many words that would take, and discards the idea. Mettaton will probably be glad to have him out from underfoot, anyway.
"Liar. Thanks anyway." He really does mean it. Sans certainly feels too big and too spiky and too terrifying.
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"Trust me, darling: it's the truth." He saunters closer. "I mean, look at how strong you are! Look at those gorgeous lines of your body! Who wouldn't call a monster like you 'handsome'?"
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But handsome?
...is this what blushing would feel like, if he were capable of it?
Sans ducks his head down even further, trying to keep his teeth tightly shut against the laughter bubbling up inside his skull. But his shoulders still shake faintly with it, and when he does speak, the amusement is evident in his voice even if the breathy exhales don't quite sound like laughter. "Stop it..."
An idea occurs. Then he looks up at Mettaton and leans forward a little, head slightly tilted, something almost mischievous in its glowing eyes. "No more than you."
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He tosses the lemon onto the grass and sashays close enough to run a finger down this monster's nearest leg bone. "Well, of course I am, gorgeous! It's so nice to see that not only are you beautiful, but that you have excellent taste as well."
He winks.
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Sans was only a casual fan of most of Mettaton's shows (and a more intense fan of one in particular), but only now does he fully appreciate just how the robot was able to stay on top for so long. He felt something similar back when Mettaton NEO first took the stage, but...to have this amount of raw charm focused on him is almost lethal. He'd be impressed if he wasn't so taken aback.
Sometimes, you just have to know when to fold 'em.
He ducks his head so far that the tip of his snout almost touches his feet, and waves a paw at Mettaton. "You win." He is clearly not equipped to keep up with the robot verbally. "Please stop." Embarrassment is a unique feeling to feel when you're the size of a large bear.
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He circles back around to the monster's front, the better to be able to speak with him properly. "I don't believe I caught your name, by the way."
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Fortunately, if Mettaton doesn't recognize him, he probably can't recognize his body language. So even if the monster looks rather visibly uncomfortable when he tells the lie, it might be excusable as him being uncomfortable with the answer he gives.
"Don't remember. Sorry."
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His response, when it comes, is a little quieter despite still being a growl. "Good. Nice." The tip of his tail twitches, just a bit. "You're nice."
Surprisingly so. Is this the Mettaton that Frisk gets to deal with? It's...kind of nice, being friends with him. Even like this. Sans will try to enjoy it while it lasts.
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Now.... He sets a hand on his hip. "But I really must get back to finding something for Frisk's breakfast." He looks around, then back at his new friend. "What would you suggest?"
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Mettaton might have to hurry a bit, just because Sans' steps are so much longer than his now. But on the other hand, it's not as though he's likely to lose track of a monster like this in this part of the gardens.
Eventually, Sans sits down by another patch of trees, that upon closer inspection will turn out to be tangerine trees. Not quite as good as an orange, but their smaller size had also left Sans entirely uninterested in wasting the effort, even while hungry. So Mettaton will have his pick of a respectable amount of fruit.
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"That's perfect--thank you, darling."
He starts plucking a few from the branches. Frisk probably won't eat as many as he picks, but they're not the only child in the castle in need of a good breakfast.
(He really should have borrowed one of Grune's baskets.)
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Besides. It's nice to receive a reminder that there are still plenty of people to take care of Frisk, even with something as dangerous as Sans wandering around.
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He looks back at the new monster. "I know I was a bit...unpleasantly surprised earlier, but don't starve yourself on our account, all right, Beautiful? It wouldn't do for someone so delightfully well-built as you to waste away.
"And don't worry: I'll let the rest of the castle know you're out here and hungry. I'm sure you'll have no shortage of food then."
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It's a big set of gardens. He'll manage. "Kids are important." The only reason he's not asking after how the babybones are eating is because he knows Tauriel has that entire matter locked.
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