tonight, on hoarders--

[voidster]

It's about three days shy of being a month since one W. D. Gaster has become a real, living skeleton again. And it was wonderful at first, being light on his feet and wonderfully magical, to eat and sleep and dress up nicely.

Not so lovely now. There's a sickness in his bones... because all he is is bones. So. Time to get busy, despite the fact that it feels he could sleep for twelve hours straight, and that his arm bones may snap if he lifts something too heavy... yes, he's felt the latter several times, split-second moments where he really has wondered if he's about to break a radius or an ulna.

He has things to do. He can't let it stop him. It's only going to become worse in the days to come, because no cure is coming. His life is not worth Judgement's death. And that's why he's chosen to spend the day stocking up on whatever nonperishable foods he can find, like he's lost his mind and decided to become a hoarder himself. After all, he'll still need to eat when he's feeling less like moving, even with shortcuts to aid him.

What happens when he can no longer walk, he wonders? Someone is going to have to deal with all this, he can't keep it secret forever...

Comments

[voidster]

[Exactly. Follow me, please.]

He's stepping forward as soon as he's picked up the rest of the food, and just like that, they're both in his room. The bed's actually been slept in lately, the desk is cluttered with books and papers, and this isn't the first load of food he's dragged in, clearly.

[dustless]

A weird-but-familiar feeling. They like it.

Frisk carefully sets it all down, then dances over to sit on the bed's edge. "Too busy to go to the kitchens an' stuff?"

[voidster]

He does the same and takes the desk chair instead. Well.

To spill or not to spill. They're going to notice soon enough, probably in a few weeks, and they've already experienced it all themself...

On the other hand, at least it would be a few more weeks of peace for them. And yet, hiding it is no way to lead by example, to show them it's okay to confide in others.

[It is... I'm simply preparing for things that may happen, regarding Judgement.]

Oops, there it is, signed out with noisy clacking fingers.

[dustless]

"What about--"

Pin drop.

It's not hard. He's alive enough, now.

"--you're sick now?"

[voidster]

[Yes, I think so.]

He doesn't say he feels it in his bones, that's inappropriate--but he's fairly sure Sans would have. Ha. Ha.

[dustless]

His eye is different. That's mainly what they notice, slowly looking him over from head to toe.

"...You don't have to breathe," they say doubtfully. That was the worst part, the coughing, the fluid in their lungs. Maybe he'd still be okay.

[voidster]

[I'm not sure what's going to happen next, myself.]

All he knows is that he's tired and there's a peculiar sensation bothering him that can't quite be called 'pain' yet. Details. More than he's willing to tell them.

[And so this is all just in case. There's plenty of food to go around.]

[dustless]

"I just--I know," they say grumpily, gesturing to the food. They want the subject off of their weird reaction now and to stay off it forever.

They add hurriedly, "Is anything different 'bout your magic? More different."

[voidster]

Like anyone would let them, or other children, go hungry. He wouldn't.

[Not that I've noticed. It's been a slightly different color the whole time, that's all.]

[dustless]

Of course he wouldn't, but old habits die hard.

Frisk sighs, and the air scratches against their throat. "...Can monsters look at their SOULs?" They saw some, when the Barrier broke, but those felt like unique circumstances.

[voidster]

[Yes, we can.] Pretty darn obvious what they're leading up to, though. [Mine has been somewhat unusual since...]

A wave of the hand: 'you know'. The accident, not Judgement. [I prefer not to show it off.]

[dustless]

Frisk narrows their eyes--they don't don't. Nobody told them exactly what happened in the first place, and their thoughts are focused on what's going on in the castle, not what came before.

"...How unusual is it?" they ask, canting their head to the side. Is it the same as Frisk's? Better? Worse? Monsters are weaker than humans in some ways and stronger in others, and they can't begin predicting anything.

[voidster]

For the best. Better for them not to think about it, not to get the urge to SAVE all over again.

[Damaged in ways that have nothing to do with Judgement, yet somehow functioning perfectly. I'm not going to question it, nothing that's happened to me seems possible.]

He's casual about it, apparently not taking this as seriously as they might. It exists and he's not in any pain or emotionless. Good enough.

[dustless]

Frisk's bouncing. Subtly.

"...Is it more different now?"

[voidster]

(Cuuute.)

[Yes. It is. I've checked. I assume yours is too?]

[dustless]

The next pause is uncomfortably long.

It's obvious, isn't it? Or else they wouldn't be asking. There's no reason to lie, even if their instincts are screaming at them to.

"...yeah. A little."

[voidster]

[A diamond, and it's her color?]

Eh. It's killing both of them--their souls being different is the least of their problems.

[dustless]

Frisk seems to wilt. "...mhmm. Is it--do you think that's...that's...extra bad?"

They can't just go out and say does that mean I'm not human and you're not a monster anymore? (Maybe because they're afraid of the answer.)

[voidster]

[This is already bad.]

Not following, not at all. He's going to die. They already have. What could be extra bad?

[dustless]

Their nerve fails. Frisk disguises it by dropping back onto the bed so he can't see their face so well.

"...I know. 'S just. It...surprised me when I saw. A lot."

[voidster]

[Did I say yet that I believe it's purely cosmetic? I don't feel I'm behaving differently...]

Which is, of course, far more important than what either of them look like.

[dustless]

They fling out their arms, a sort of shrug with more distress, and more splaying out. He hadn't, but they're...still not sure.

"When my SOUL turned blue an' yellow and stuff, that was only for a little while. And those were colors...humans had already."

[voidster]

[You're still the same, too. You're yourself. Unless you have a reason to disagree with me...?]

They're not physically human in appearance anymore, and he's not even acknowledging that. Clearly not how monsters define the self, not at all.

[dustless]

What does that mean?

They're Frisk. They know who that is in bits and pieces--the name they picked, the determination their SOUL was so filled with, they help people, they infected that SOUL because of those last two things.

They're not good at being a kid. They're angry a lot, but they were before they got sick. Maybe even less now, since getting tired happens faster.

"Humans aren't supposed to be that--this much magic," they say. Protest, weakly. And there's a weird bitterness at how quickly he realized what they were worried about, even if that was what they sort of wanted to get to in the first place.

Is Judgement's disease magic? Maybe some kind, but she doesn't like it, she doesn't like the castle's kind and it didn't sound like she really knew when they cried about it, and they don't know. They don't even know what they care about, 'cause their friends and family are monsters and other stuff, so it shouldn't even matter.

Their hands dig into the blankets, pulling, and they barely stop themselves from dragging the blankets all the way over themselves. This isn't their bed, Gaster uses this now, they can't cocoon in it to hide.

[voidster]

It's Chara-like enough to make him pause. They felt comfortable enough to borrow his bed, before they disappeared, and he... aches for them. The silly little child, calling him 'nerd' and 'educating' him on those poorly drawn comics that are such a fad these days. Their reading and writing lessons, him drawing for them and encouraging them to fill in the speech bubbles. And the octopus toy he gave them, which they went on to carry around constantly.

He misses them.

So, he stands up with only a little difficulty and says nothing. Let him be really mute for a moment. He doesn't understand what their concerns are, or maybe he's just tired, because he doesn't know what to say.

But he can go to tuck them in. That's enough.