[Post-Halloween event, OPEN] "Matter of fact it's all dark."

[justletmewin]

It's... hard for him to take. The island feels the same as it's ever been. Fresher maybe. The castle is itself. Asriel is back right where he started, next to the hyacinth bush he woke up beside months ago. Dread welled in the pit of his stomach: oh no not again please not again

Relief sweeps through him when he finds the loamy black patches of soil with tiny green sprouts. Over the past month, the goat child nursed those tiny little plants, which grew from the golden flower seeds he picked off his sweater, pants, and fur from when he fell asleep in the Ruins. He knew it took a month or two of dormancy--longer if necessary, depending on the seasons--before the plants popped out of the ground, but he hadn't expected them to grow. Watering this little patch gave him something to do... a routine to follow like brushing your teeth or making the bed. ...Okay, he admitted. Maybe there was a part of him that hoped the seeds would make it. Sure enough, they did. It felt... weirdly validating, in a way.

If he's still in his current time, this means... oh.

Should one be taking a walk in the gardens that day, they may see Asriel on his knees in the flowers, head lowered in thought. His expression looks... numb.






[[OOC: For those who got their soul stolen, Asriel can apologize to your character here. If not, they're free to just chat. Thank you everybody who participated in the Hyperdeath event! :D]]

cooking with a lazy skeleton: awful snack edition

[trombones]

Something stinks. Literally. There's a hell of a mixture wafting out of the kitchen. It's a mix of meat, sweets, cinnamon (a million other spices too, but mostly cinnamon), bad eggs, worse cheese, and a lot more. Anyone who walks in will find Sans, now a skeleton again, with a pile of food mixed and mashed in ways it was never meant to be. There's flour, broken eggs, spilled spices, bits of meat and confectionaries - literally everything you can think of, literally all over the place.

The one thing that stands out in the chaos is sitting on the table behind him. It's a pie. Made somewhat crudely, but clearly with a lot more care than anything else in the room. There's a small, glass bottle of cinnamon next to it, half empty now, and some of its been sprinkled on the whipped cream sitting on top of the pie.

The nicely-made anomaly aside, Sans is currently in the process of slapping together some pulled pork between two crudely cut slices of bread with cheese melted in between. Which, by itself, isn't that strange. But nearby, there's a basket of sweets taken from both the ballroom and candy room. It's filled with cakes, sugar plums, bonbons, macaroons, petit fours and more. He looks over it and stills for a moment, apparently considering something.

After a second, he shrugs. He takes a slice of cake and a butter knife gingerly swipes the frosting off the top... then unceremoniously dumps it into his pork-and-cheese sandwich. In lieu of a toothpick, he sticks a candy cane through the center and sets it on a plate. Back home, ham and marshmallow sandwiches were his go-to snack, usually spiced up with some squeeze cheese on top. In a place as medieval (heh) as this one, though, he'll take what he can get.

Satisfied, he straights up and looks around again. Alright... now all he needed was a drink. He scratches at his cheek - until he feels his finger goes over a bump. He stops short. Oh. Right. He forgot about that.

Anyone paying attention might notice a long, thin cut across the cheek bone. It's a bad excuse for a scar. Despite being a skeleton again, despite that Gaster didn't even cut his face that deeply... the castle had a funny habit of leaving reminders that didn't make sense. It made sense that his jacket was still torn at the shoulder. But his face? Geez.

Anyway. Feel free to witness some nightmare snack making. He's more than willing to have a cooking partner.