[slightly backdated revival post] good morning sunshine!

[dustless]

 It's too bright. Sharp stuff prickles against the back of their neck, and something else smothering weighs down over most of their body. They're lying down. They were being carried, but then they fell. Got dropped. Something. Their eyes hurt and they're not even open yet, it's awful.

Frisk flings their arms over their face to block out the first thing. In doing so, they discover the weird weight is, in fact, their shirt and probably also their pants.

Right. They died, and they forgot just how unpleasant the castle's revivals are. Not nearly as nice as just reappearing at the last SAVE point. Everything is...a lot. Like waking up for real, except the nap was three days, and their body hadn't felt anything in that time--

There's a weight in their chest. They can feel the very shape of it right now, the diamond. Her. She's not gone, and they're--they're torn. That's bad, that's not a fix, but it's good they don't have to go see Judgement to get infected again.

They peek out of the space between their arms and find themselves staring at the morning sky in spaces between flowers. 

Between...sunflowers. 

The castle woke them up on top of their first grave.

...

They're tired. They don't like any of this. The most important people can find them by their SOUL.

Frisk rolls over, shuffles deeper into the flowers' shadows, and doesn't move until they fall asleep.
 

☼


Later--a lot later--they're heading in the general direction of their room when they find...a door. The door itself isn't weird, but when they look closer, there's a strip of cloth sticking out from under it.

The room they find behind it is magnificent. To them, at least, now that they're feeling well enough to run around. It's full of wardrobes, and the wardrobes are full of robes and suits and dresses and capes and crowns and necklaces and ruffles, and they are going to take advantage of this by trying on everything that catches their eye, yes they are.
 

Comments

[dustless]

The pink eyelight's hard to see. The satchel, maybe. But the rest...the one they know is mostly black goop, after all, even if he makes himself more skeleton-shaped most of the time.

But that's their name! There's far slimmer odds of different Gasters coming up with the same sign name for them, they think, than just having a different one show up.

"...It's you! You're all boney!"

[voidster]

[It's me, not another.] He knows to reassure them--he and they both know there are others of him out there who no one wants to meet.

[I don't quite understand it myself--I'll explain another time. Priorities. Clothing.]

Because there's so much bone to cover up. He resumes digging for a good shirt...

[dustless]

Frisk's expression flattens. He better not've done something stupid to himself.

"...What're you looking for? There's lotsa good dresses in that one." They point to a wardrobe right of him.

pfft I keep forgetting Runester

[voidster]

Funny how that's what immediately comes to mind when dealing with him.

[Shirt, pants. Whatever fits.] Pause, and a widening grin. [Or do you think I should wear a dress?]

Runester steps out from around the corner, already having found some khaki pants. No shirts he likes, though. He's bony too... they have ribs and a spine again.

no worries :V

[dustless]

It's not like they don't have reason--one of which has them double-taking too, and looking upset for just a moment. It's been a long time since their copy died. They'll probably need to go talk to the Jackal--Anubis--to see if they can be remade...

...but that's for later.

Frisk grabs their skirts and shakes them. "Yeah! Dresses swoosh."

[voidster]

[So did half the things I wore.]

When he was properly alive--well, he feels alive now, he should go on and be swooshy. Dramatic. There aren't any black labcoats here, that's the first thing he searched for. (Second was a white sweater. The old look would be best.)

[Find us something dark? Black?]

[dustless]

Frisk gives a snappy nod and motors off, feet slapping over the stone. They don't need shoes!

And they've already found a bunch of stuff before. There's a dark purple robe, but it's sort of boring...

...but there's something hidden in the wardrobe behind it. A dress, just like they think he wants and they definitely do, and then there's a small sprinkle of deep blue stones sewn around the wrists of the sleeves. It reminds them of a blue SOUL, and that's what skeletons can do, right?

They yank it out and hold it up. It's longer than they are, so it covers their face. "Like this?"

[voidster]

Neither does he, his feet are more than tough enough to handle anything. They click against the stone floor.

He's not picky and it's pretty, actually. Probably long enough, too, he's not all that close to Papyrus's height.

[Why not.] he says, accepting it with a third hand. [I'm a skeleton again, I can't possibly look bad in anything.] Hee.

[dustless]

Oh! Right. Frisk takes a startled moment to give it up since they forgot he can do that. He's not too different from before, probably. It's just weird.

"You'd look better in stuff that's not a blanket," they say matter-of-factly.

[voidster]

Even easier, now. Blasters, shortcuts, gravity manipulation... it's all coming back to him, and he's grateful.

Warm.

Happy?

Fourth and fifth hands hold up the blanket. The continuing grin may mean he's showing off more than being modest as he changes behind the blanket 'screen'. (Or maybe not. Sans is always layers and layers of clothing, isn't he?)

[True, I suppose.] he says once he drops the blanket. [How is it?]

[dustless]

Skeletons are always smiling, aren't they? Though Frisk thinks they detect a bit of mischief in his.

Frisk gives him a double thumbs-up. "Great! 'Course. I picked it," they say, jabbing their thumbs up at their face with exaggerated self-importance.

It does look nice. The smooth stones might feel like a strange weight, however.

[voidster]

Always showing teeth, not always with a smile. His face is still impossibly flexible.

[You did. I'm going to need more, and so is he.] A jerk of the thumb to Runester, who looks far less cheerful about all this, somehow, because he doesn't have a proper face. [We can't just have one outfit each.]

[dustless]

"Well, you sorta can..." See: Frisk's striped shirt and the pants and the green scarf. They've been wearing those for literal years now, and it's amazing they're so intact still--maybe it's castle magic...though when Frisk was tossing them off in the back room, the blue was starting to look awfully faded.

"...but more's nice." They clap their hands once, sharply, rocking more on their feet enough to make the skirt ripple. "What's your favorite color...s?" The copy might have a different favorite.

[voidster]

[Dark purple, I suppose. To be honest, I almost always wore black and white.]

He can join the 'single outfit' club, rather like they have. Always the sweater, always the black labcoat and pants, because wearing all white when you're made up of bleached bone is just ridiculous. (And because he's a skeleton--he doesn't need to bathe every day.)

[More is just fine. I'm sure everything we take will be replaced, so there's no excuse not to.]

The copy says nothing. They're exactly the same in all but two respects, Frisk is bright enough to know this.

[dustless]

"Why?" they ask, wandering over to a wardrobe he and his copy--and they, for that matter--haven't looked into.

There's a lot of green stuff in this one, not purple. It's neat, though, stuff from light seafoam to neon to forest to almost-black, all arranged in a row from lightest to darkest. They grab a ruffled seafoam shirt and toss it over their shoulder--it's going to be Frisk's later.

Frisk about-faces and goes back to the one from before, pulling out the robe. That one...that one's held out for Runester, since he doesn't have anything swooshy yet.

"...Do you like bracelets and stuff?"

[voidster]

[Thank you.] he says, accepting it and starting through the whole changing-behind-the-blanket routine. He does not want to be here, he doesn't want to be forced into playing dress up with a child--

Gaster's aware, despite the fact that Runester can't frown at him. And he's ignoring it.

[Because it's professional, and I suppose you could say I lived at work. Black, because a skeleton wearing all white is pitiful. And yes.]

[dustless]

What a killjoy...

Or he would be, if Frisk was paying more attention to the jackal-copy than the first Gaster.

"Huh? Pitiful? 'S just a color." They pause and tap their chin, looking him over. "...but you probably woulda looked like a ghost," they say decidedly.

[voidster]

[Pitiful, because if I walked into a white room they'd never be able to find me again.] he goes on, gestures more expansive and happy than they have been in weeks--since 'his' Sans's departure. And he's teasing. Silly, stupidly silly. [They'd send out search parties. Days and days of searching while I stood there trying not to laugh.]

[dustless]

Oh. Ohhh.

Frisk keeps their face straight. "But then you woulda been the best at hide-an'-seek! Good...good tradeoff."

[voidster]

[And pranks--as long as I stayed in a room with white walls, I'd be unstoppable.]

Pfft. He's still being Looked at irritably by Runester, who is now properly swishy and prettied up.