castle_perrault | But summer has to come to an end sometime

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undertale

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.

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The monster flinches back another pace when Frisk moves, only to pause when their efforts are rewarded with a respectably sized shower of fruit. It looks from the mangoes to Frisk and then back again. It doesn't recognize the fruit, either...but it is still hungry. And so, still somewhat hesitantly, the monster creeps forward and takes up one into its mouth. It bites down carefully, chews, swallows...and then lets out a noise that sounds decidedly more pleased with the situation.

Mmm. Mangoes, as it turns out, are way more delicious than lemons. Even more than apples. Has it ever eaten mangoes before? It can't remember, and doesn't care. The beast just gulps up all the fallen ones quite happily. Its tail even starts to swish a little, behind it.

By the time it's done, one side has managed to get out in front of the other. The monster sits back on its haunches, the better to regard the human with its head slightly tilted.

"Thanks, kid." Speaking sounds like an effort. Its jaw grinds a bit, and the voice that comes out is deep and gravelly, with a faint echo to it to betray that magic is being used to assist.

Good. When it flinched back, they wondered if it had, in fact, been looking for fruit in the first place at all, and might've seen their attempt to help as trying to drive it off with tree bits instead.

Blink. Cool, it can talk. They were wondering if they were dealing with somebody like Dogs (lesser and greater).

Frisk starst glancing around for more good-looking branches. Not too far to their left. "Can get you more," they say, already leaning over to reach. "Think you can catch some when I do? So you don't need to eat it all off the ground, and stuff."

"Doesn't matter." About food being on the ground, at least. It's definitely not going to turn down more food. The creature gets back to its feet, stretches long enough and hard enough to make its spine crick, and then paces over beneath the laden branch. "Nice thought."

And indeed, when Frisk gives that one a good shake, the monster will prove quite quick at snapping up most of the falling mangoes. A few escape its teeth and thud to the ground, but it simply bends it head and gulps them up, too.

Some itch in the back of its skull drives it on to look back up at Frisk and ask: "You hungry?"

Frisk grins in satisfaction. "Good." Sure, it didn't get all the fruit, but it caught most! And eating off the ground isn't all that bad, they think, but it still felt polite to offer.

They scoot down a couple branches. Less foliage to get in the way of their view of the bony monster.

A few twigs catch in their hair, and they pause to work them out as they talk. "No, 'm fine. Already ate some." Their nose is a little wrinkled. Sure, these fruit tasted pretty nice, but they've already had them a bunch.

An expression that might be a smile comes over the monster's face in reply. At the least, the earlier tension is quite gone from its bones. It nods in acceptance of Frisk's refusal, then it jerks its head towards another branch, "You mind?"

If the kid is content to stay there and the monster is content to eat, then it sees no reason for either of them to relocate. Most of its hunger has been sated, but if the fruit is right here, might as well eat its fill now. It'll save time later.

It doesn't even need Frisk to shake the rest down. Upon receiving confirmation that they do not mind, the monster will just go back to eating fruit right off the branches.

"Go ahead. 'S not just my tree." They wave the hand unoccupied with the hair disaster.

They go quiet again for a while, content to watch. It's funny in a weird way, seeing something so huge with such massive teeth gulping down fruit.

The thought of massive teeth causes their thoughts to stray to 'grandma, what massive teeth you have' and variations thereof. This bone beast looks sort of like a wolf. No wolf is that big, though. They wonder why it looks like that. Dragon bones, maybe?

"I'm Frisk," they venture after a time. Nice to introduce themselves, and maybe they'll get a name in return.

Frisk. The monster draws itself up a little straighter, letting out a startled sort of sound. Its eyesockets widen, its claws flex a little in the dirt. Frisk, this is...this is Frisk, he knew that he knew them but now he remembers their name, he remembers why. He knows their name and his name comes back to him from the fog once more. They are Frisk and he is Sans and...

...and they...they don't recognize him.

Rationally, he knows that there's no reason why they should. Frisk is technically one of the only people in the castle to have seen the blaster close up - much too close up - but they'd definitely had other things on their mind at the time. He can't remember coming across them when he'd first transformed. Why would they know?

It still stings a little, deep in his soul, to fully realize as much. If he can barely recognize himself, he's going to be depending that much more on everyone else's reminders. He could tell them the truth. He should tell them the truth. Sans opens his mouth to do just that...and then closes it again as his nerve fails him. He musters up another smile, instead, or at least the closest he can come.

"Hey, Frisk." Then, having at least guessed at what their goal was in introducing themselves, he shakes its head apologetically. It's as much for the lie that follows as for anything else, but they don't need to know that. "No name."

That will be a decision that will clearly have no consequences in the future.

They eye him in concern, at the...reaction and at the lack of name. "Yeah?" Frisk doesn't particularly like it when people have names that seem nothing like names, and not having one at all seems just as bad.

Also, they're sort of done with being in this tree right now. They're blocking the way to other fruit, and they're suddenly feeling antsy, so they start working their way down. Slowly, because they remember how he'd looked when they started with the fruit.

Except that doesn't really work. About halfway down, there's a sharp crack. Sans will see their expression morph from surprise to fear to resignation in about half a second, and then they're smashing through the branches in a wild drop.

Sans can't help but cringe at the sound of that crack. It's a sound that's a little too familiar to him, still.

Then he looks up at Frisk. Then he realizes that that sound wasn't coming from him. Then Frisk is falling and oh god...

About halfway down the branches, Frisk's fall will halt quite abruptly. This is because their soul has just turned blue. A look up Sans will reveal that his eyelights are glowing a little brighter, smoky edges of magic trailing out of the sockets.

"...yeah," he finishes, somewhat awkwardly. It's barely any effort at all to right Frisk in midair and set them down carefully on their feet. "Careful."

That'll net him a startled yelp and stare. They're perfectly still until he sets them down, and then they lean back against the trunk of the tree. Sure, they're used to falling, but an adrenaline spike like that still leaves their legs jelly.

"Oh. You're Underground. From," Frisk says blankly, the effort of straightening their thoughts out obvious on their face. They weren't entirely sure, what with Batman and stuff. He's nothing like they've seen before.

"...I fall a lot," they tell him matter-of-factly. "And I'm practicing climbing, so I might more. But, yeah, I'll try to be."

Sans lets out a faint whine as Frisk slumps back against the tree, looking concerned. But they seem to be okay. Instead, he gets back up to his feet, and circles himself around the other side of the tree. This way, when he lays himself down, his head is next to them where he rests it on his paws.

"Underground," the monster confirms with a nod. "From." He widens an eyesocket up at them as Frisk carries on with their explanation. "Why the practice?" This is the first Sans is hearing of any climbing practice, and he can't say that he'd see the appeal even if he hadn't just seen Frisk fall out of a tree.

Huh. His short answers actually do make them think of Batman.

They take a step forward just to make sure they can without falling, then flop down to sit beside him. "Training myself," they decide. "And fun. Never got to do it before showing up here. Don't know why I didn't try before."

'Training' makes them remember something--just in case, and this person seems new, so. "Should probably stay away from some...kids who look like me, but have green shirts. And there's a guy with a baseball bat, he's a jerk too." They do trust the second Chara they've met quite a bit, but still. Mixing them up with Underground monsters seems like a bad idea.

Green shirts...

Green shirts and red eyes and knives and prove yourself to me and no no no...

Sans seems to bristle a little where he lays, the spines on his back rattling, his claws digging deeper furrows into the ground. He stares straight ahead, seeing nothing for a bad moment, and lets out a ragged snarl that he suddenly cuts off by snapping his jaws shut hard enough to make the fangs click off each other. Then the monster rests its skull back on the ground and drapes an arm over its eyesockets, still shivering just a little.

"Supposed to fight." But it says the words more like a warning and less like a threat. Trying to indicate that the thoughts aren't always its own. "Can't remember."

Frisk does something completely counter-intuitive.

They scoot closer to the snarling monster, gently placing a hand over his arm.

What he means isn't entirely clear to them, but of course they try helping anyway. "...'s okay. You won't need to here. Just--just gotta keep from the...worse people here. It's a big castle, so it shouldn't be that hard." They very much hope.

It might be counter-intuitive, under the circumstances, but it happens to work. Sans tenses up for a moment...and then he settles, some of his bones creaking a little as the tension bleeds out of them. A long, tired sigh rumbles in his ribcage.

"I'll try." It's a big castle, but he's a much bigger monster than he used to be. The general idea is appreciated, though. "Thanks, kid."

Frisk goes quiet again for a minute, leaving their arm resting over his.

Creature made of bones. Talking about fighting, needing to fight. Has blue magic, glowing blue eyes. Of course they can't imagine this is their Sans, with no solid idea of his even being able to do this, but there are still pieces...that remind them of Serif.

They know it might not be the most polite question they could come up with, and they consider waiting until later--only they think maybe they should know before too long, in case there are accidents. And, of course, they're a bit curious as well.

"...you from a lab?"

Sans closes his eyes, after a while - he's still pretty tired from transforming in the first place. That sort of ache doesn't easily fade. And he's just considering trying for a nap right here when Frisk speaks again.

Even so, Sans doesn't immediately give any sign of having heard them. Even now, he can appreciate that that won't be an easy question to answer. Not even if he lies.

In the end, he decides to go for technical honesty. "Not at first." But there was an accident.

That. That very much isn't an answer they want to hear. This is a Sans, they're sure, but he doesn't know who he is, he doesn't look like a Sans, and he's from a lab.

Like an Amalgamate more than Sans-Serif.

(They've seen Snowdrake's mother around. Haven't got to see her properly; she's surprisingly good at disappearing.)

"...well. This place is better than a lab." He might notice Frisk's voice has the slightest edge of anger to it, now. They shove it away. "By a lot. Other monsters made of bones, too, even if they're smaller, they're all pretty great too. And I can show you around and stuff, if you want me to...or sometime," they add, since they see he's clearly tired.

Frisk is closer to the right answer than they think, and not even just in guessing that this is a Sans. The comparison to an Amalgamate is not an inaccurate one.

"Yeah. Better." In this, they are entirely agreed. Even if he were truly new here, that much would be obvious. Sans half opens his eyesockets to stare out at the garden around them. Even now, he can admire it. There are definitely worse places to get stuck outside.

"Sometime. Thanks." He nudges the tip of his snout up against their arm. It's probably the safest alternative to a head nudge right now. "I'll be here." It's not as though he'll be hard to find like this.

An obvious gesture, definitely good enough. They absently start stroking along the top of his skull in response.

"...kay. And you won't run out of food. And I'll visit." Frisk sounds distant, lost in their thoughts of lab stuff. Most of it isn't all that pleasant, but they're not going to outwardly show it. Not when there's someone who was already hurting nearby.

They suppose they should leave him to his nap...but they also suppose they'll wait until he's actually asleep. Company is good. And even if he doesn't remember anything, even his name, he'll probably end up missing his brother.

Company is good. And he does miss his brother. And the feel of Frisk's hand stroking his skull feels any better than it has a right to. Sans would be embarrassed if he wasn't so sleepy.

He lets out a huff, and then closes his eyesockets once more, resting his skull on folded up paws. The end of his tail wags a little at Frisk's words - the tail is a bit too long for it to properly resemble a dog's wagging, but the sentiment is the same. But even that slight movement eventually slows and fades. Frisk won't be waiting too long before his breathing grows deep and steady, snores rumbling faintly in his ribcage.

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But summer has to come to an end sometime

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