Sans has been listening to all of this, of course. A lot of this information is new. Some of it, he simply refuses to believe, and it's easy to refuse because it's Chara the human saying it.
There have been several points where he's thought of speaking up, but hasn't. He's tired, and if he kills them they'll just come back (again and again and again) and he really did promise to let Frisk try and handle this. Even then, he's had to muffle a snort of bitter disbelief whenever Chara started talking about "someone else" calling the shot. Sure, human.
He doesn't technically need to breathe, but Sans still catches a breath and holds it when Frisk asks that question. He doesn't know what difference the answer will make, if he's brutally honest with himself. He doesn't even entirely know why he wants to know. Just that he does. Just that it's one thing among many to keep him up nights since the fight.
But of all the answers Sans had been expecting...somehow, that one still catches him entirely unprepared. Just like their killing blow had. Enough that his hand flies up to his ribcage, so sure for a moment that he's going to feel blood because that's the only thing that could bring this much pain.
(Papyrus was his brother and Papyrus was important and Papyrus was so sure that they could be better, so sure that even Sans hoped, and by the time he'd realized there was never any hope at all he'd been too late he was always too late and he's not supposed to have to go on without his brother, with a piece ripped out of his soul and bleeding, always bleeding...)
Everything goes...cold and sharp and strange. His mind is empty of anything but that question and the bad memories it brings. His soul is full of hate. His arm hurts so, so much and it's such a good pain and Sans almost hopes it keeps going.
Sans stares down at his hands, shaking hard enough to blur. Then he clenches them tight, and smiles, even as he feels the tears start to gather and fall. Chara will feel their soul turned blue as the first warning they get, just before Sans steps almost sedately out of his hiding place around the corner.
"'who's papyrus?'" He shrugs expansively, grinning widely at the human over Frisk's shoulder. "well, let me tell you..."
Then he swipes a hand forcibly through the air, trying to push and slam Chara bodily into the wall again. This time, he's hoping so, so much to hear that sickening crack of their skull.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Whelp. Hope this is okay!
Date: 2016-03-04 05:54 pm (UTC)Charathe human saying it.There have been several points where he's thought of speaking up, but hasn't. He's tired, and if he kills them they'll just come back (again and again and again) and he really did promise to let Frisk try and handle this. Even then, he's had to muffle a snort of bitter disbelief whenever Chara started talking about "someone else" calling the shot. Sure, human.
He doesn't technically need to breathe, but Sans still catches a breath and holds it when Frisk asks that question. He doesn't know what difference the answer will make, if he's brutally honest with himself. He doesn't even entirely know why he wants to know. Just that he does. Just that it's one thing among many to keep him up nights since the fight.
But of all the answers Sans had been expecting...somehow, that one still catches him entirely unprepared. Just like their killing blow had. Enough that his hand flies up to his ribcage, so sure for a moment that he's going to feel blood because that's the only thing that could bring this much pain.
(Papyrus was his brother and Papyrus was important and Papyrus was so sure that they could be better, so sure that even Sans hoped, and by the time he'd realized there was never any hope at all he'd been too late he was always too late and he's not supposed to have to go on without his brother, with a piece ripped out of his soul and bleeding, always bleeding...)
Everything goes...cold and sharp and strange. His mind is empty of anything but that question and the bad memories it brings. His soul is full of hate. His arm hurts so, so much and it's such a good pain and Sans almost hopes it keeps going.
Sans stares down at his hands, shaking hard enough to blur. Then he clenches them tight, and smiles, even as he feels the tears start to gather and fall. Chara will feel their soul turned blue as the first warning they get, just before Sans steps almost sedately out of his hiding place around the corner.
"'who's papyrus?'" He shrugs expansively, grinning widely at the human over Frisk's shoulder. "well, let me tell you..."
Then he swipes a hand forcibly through the air, trying to push and slam Chara bodily into the wall again. This time, he's hoping so, so much to hear that sickening crack of their skull.