[Backdated towards the end of the month] Well there's no use crying over every mistake

[sansational]

Sans comes back to life on the floor of a dark, reeking cell deep in the bowels of the castle. The first thing he knows is that ribs ache fiercely. It takes him a few bleary minutes to remember why.

Once he does, Sans scrambles gracelessly back to his feet, summoning his blasters over each shoulder as he stares hurriedly around. Empty. No prisoners, no captor. No Adam, no Frisk. The chains hang empty, in a couple of cases ripped out of the walls. Was Adam dealt with? Or did he pack up shop, and take Sans' friends with him?

He needs to go and check.

But he realizes that there's something he needs to grab first, to keep the second verse from just being the same as the first

So unless anyone is down there in the cell when he first reappears, the first anyone is likely to see of Sans is him in the graveyard, hunting around the tombstones and open graves with a very intent expression on his skull. His blasters float lazily behind him. He's not sending them away for a while.

"where is it, where is it..."

Eventually, he manages to find a real knife, if not necessarily the Real Knife, somewhere in the castle. Finally. It feels heavy and cold as he curls his fingerbones around the hilt. But it also feels powerful. Let Adam try sawing him in half with this between them.

It's only then that he wonders if this is what the human felt like, as they walked down the hall for another round with him. Before they knew whether or not Sans could die at all. 

Either way, Sans takes a slower route through the castle, up and down and all around, trying to zero in on Frisk's location. He hopes so, so much to find his sense of their presence untainted by that other human's. But at least this way, he's prepared in case he doesn't. Concerned friends or people who are just generally concerned to see a skeleton with two blasters at the ready and a knife in hand can find him anywhere, poking around, checking for trap doors, flinching at loud noises or sudden movements.

Comments

[sansational]

Sans smiles when he sees them stop, sees them hold out their arms. He wants nothing more than to be the one doing the dragging. But then his expression freezes, briefly wounded, when he sees them tense.

Fortunately, they're not the first one to have that reaction, so his confusion doesn't last. Sans looks down at the knife like he'd forgotten it was there - which, on some level, he had. Then the skeleton sighs in irritation at himself and tosses the knife away, where it lands point-down and stuck in the soil. Then he waves a hand so that the blasters spin out of existence. "sorry about that. just, uh...wanted to be a little more prepared in case i ran into that guy again. you know?" He's aware that it's not exactly a good reason. He's aware that they'll probably still disapprove. They generally seem to disapprove of him putting himself in danger, and that's probably not exactly going to change now.

He thinks about what else he can do to reassure them, and then realizes. Ah. Sans holds up his hands in front of his ribcage, palms up and empty, and closes his eyes. His soul takes shape there, pale blue and fragile. It doesn't do much to prove that he's their Sans, perhaps. But maybe it will at least lay their fears to rest that he's a bad version. No LOVE, no execution points. Just the one HP, back where it belongs.

[dustless]

It's not a good explanation, but also they don't care, their chest is already caving in with guilt at wondering, and then at still wondering enough to--

* Check

Sans.

HP - 1 AT - 1 DF - 1

A friend.

Good enough.

Frisk takes two steps forward and yanks him close. "Sorry." Their voice is tiny and cracking.

[sansational]

Sans cracks open an eyesocket when he hears footsteps, and is just in time to see Frisk reach out and pull him into a hug. Frisk might be able to see his soul flare a little bit brighter before he lets it fade properly back into his body.

The skeleton lets out a long, rattling sigh, and returns the hug without further hesitation, leaning a little on Frisk as well. He's pretty light, though, so hopefully they won't notice much. "me too," he replies, very quietly. "it's, uh...it's been a week, hasn't it?" One of their worst in a good, long while.

"didn't want you to see...what you saw. glad you didn't die again, though." Thank someone for small mercies.

suicide tw

[dustless]

A monster SOUL would be interesting to look at any other time. They never got a good, proper look at one condensed like a human's--Asgore was only a moment in a horrible series of them, and they were paying more attention to Asriel when the barrier was destroyed.

It's not so important now.

Sans can lean on Frisk all he likes. (Maybe they're sort of hiding under him as well, maybe it's making them feel impossibly safer, maybe that's not fair and maybe they're not ever going to admit any of it.)

A week. "Felt longer." Felt like a life.

...It should've been a life.

"Wish it--wish it wasn't you."

Unspoken, but likely obvious: Frisk wishes it was them anyway. They were planning on doing something, provoking Adam or starving themselves, anything to die and then go get help when they woke up if their imprisonment was going to last much longer.

They almost wish they could've done that on the first day. Get it over with. Fix the problem before Sans and Barnaby and their replica all got killed.

[sansational]

"...felt longer," he finally admits with them. It was a life. Another life.

The meaning behind what Frisk says next is unspoken, but entirely obvious. Not a good look for them, either, and one that he finds himself wondering just how much he had a hand in. He's been there, and thought that. They taught him better. Maybe he can do the same for them. Maybe it can work like that for once.

"yeah, well, i wish it wasn't you chained up down there." Trying to imply that they both suffered, and that neither of them is the one to blame for that. It's a surprisingly sensible view, for Sans, but it's always easier to share good advice rather than follow it. He heaves a sigh, and adds: "so it looks like we both got kinda boned in this mess."

He pulls away just enough to see if the pun has had any effect. And throws in a subject change for good measure.

"you know that we're forgetting something, right?"

[dustless]

Frisk wishes it wasn't them, but they don't wish it was him instead, or anyone. They were strong, they'll...be fine. Again. Eventually. They'll make themselves be fine, make themselves trust their friends and follow adults around instead of wanting to go hide at their size and shape in the corner of their eye.

Those aren't good thoughts, if it was somebody else. Later. It's not fun.

It's not a very good joke, either--they don't get it--but they try to smile anyway, even if it's tiny and crooked and doesn't last. "What?"

[sansational]

Sans pats them on the shoulder. "i'm pretty sure the initial plan for 'welcome back spaghetti' was if you died again. but, eh." He waves a hand, visibly dismissing the idea. "i'm hungry. you look hungry. let's go see what the kitchen's got laying around, why don't we?" He motions off back towards the castle.

[dustless]

"Oh!" They thought it was going to be something...bigger. Worse. Dangerous that they forgot.

Welcome Back Spaghetti is a nice thought, even though they're not really hungry. They don't think they've actually eaten yet today. "...okay. I can make soup, too." Sorry soup, for the...everything.

Frisk grabs Sans' hand. They're not going to let go easily.

"...d'you still want that?" they ask before they can set off, nodding at the knife. They don't know if he should have it, it's a knife and he has 1 HP, but maybe it shouldn't be left lying around.

[sansational]

Sans brightens a bit. "that'd be cool. i don't know why, but human kids really seem to have the hang of soup." It's completely an accident that cooking with other people has become an activity he enjoys, a way to interact and bond. Or maybe it's not so strange - everyone has to pass through the kitchens at some point, so he rarely has to spend too long looking for any one person. And it means he has someone he can at least attempt to fob the tedious or difficult parts of the job on.

...he hopes that Lucas is okay, wherever they've been sent back to.

Sans grabs Frisk's hand. He absolutely doesn't want to let go for a bit. He's about to set off, when Frisk points out one forgotten detail. Sans looks around to see where they're nodding at, looks past the knife at first...and then his expression goes set. Oh.

"nope." Which is not entirely true. He wants something that could protect him against humans like Adam, humans that are immune to the tricks that are his only way of really surviving with 1 HP. But now that he's found Frisk, the idea seems...less important, and correspondingly more of a bother. He's able to remember that he's been down this road before and it usually only ever ends in dead ends, headaches, and hurt feelings.

Still. It really shouldn't be left laying around. He doesn't trust the resident Charas that much.

"but i found it in the kitchen in the first place. so i guess that accidentally works out." He reaches out to pick it up, rather more carefully this time.

[dustless]

Cooking is good for bonding. Undyne and Papyrus knew it, or at least discovered it together, didn't they?

"Soup's nice." Soup isn't very complicated. That might be helpful, since they've been doing terribly at anything that wasn't more complicated than cleaning where metal rubbed cuts into their skin.

It's a knife. They're not very afraid of knives--their dagger's a comfort object--but they'd rather him have something...less sharp all over, if he really needed something. They don't know how damage to himself works.

Frisks nods and doesn't move until he's got it, and then they're heading into the castle. (Though they'll let Sans lead.)

cw self harm

[sansational]

Cooking is good for bonding, and bonding actually has a purpose in this place. People aren't just another way of passing time in endlessly repeating days.

And it's fortunately impossible for Sans to damage himself - he knows, he's tried, though mostly just for scientific purposes. Maybe that's not the case for most monsters. It's never seemed polite to ask. But enough hostile intention to take away his single HP has to come from without, rather than within.

Sans would normally take a shortcut to the kitchens, but he's not quite sure he's up to them yet. Besides, it seems like an especially nice day out for someone who's just been dead. So he trudges along, a pace ahead of Frisk. It feels odd to lead, but then Sans considers he might actually know this place better than they do. It'd be fun to find out for sure sometime.

They walk in silence for a few minutes, before he can't hold himself back from asking the obvious question any longer:

"so, uh...gaster says they locked him up. the human who did all this."

He says it partly to reassure them, and partly to check their reactions.

sans plz

[dustless]

Their face doesn't change much, but they can't help giving his hand a squeeze.

"He has my friend's face," they say, instead of anything that might make sense.

It might, though. They don't think he'll stay locked up forever, only that barely matters; he's a known factor now, so he can't fake being Barnaby so easily. The problem is that it'll be hard not to see Adam in his face, or that Adam can still try when he gets out.

And maybe they'll hate having to look through bars or peer through a keyhole to see someone who looks like their friend in another kind of jail.