"and now you two aren't just stalling, you're fussing." Sans snickers to himself. "nerds."
Gaster draws away, trying to frown in an attempt to hide a fond smile. "Well," he says, looking down at Frisk. "If he can still make jokes, he can't be having too many second thoughts. Get ready, Frisk." Trusting them to do so, he turns on the intercom again.
"Typical monster bodies cannot handle large amounts of determination, that much we have seen. Human bodies, with their much larger proportional amounts of physical matter, can handle it with ease." He nods to Frisk in acknowledgement of this fact. It's just a shame that their much larger proportional amount of physical matter is precisely what makes them invalid for taking Sans' place. "Along with the DT infusion itself, this process should condense parts of your body into a more physical than magical state, allowing them to channel both determination and your magic."
They've gone over this already. Frisk probably knows this lecture by heart by now. He's still stalling, and Gaster can't ignore as much forever.
"You will need a strong soul, of course. Fortunately, we know you have one. But do not hesitate to say something if you feel something is going wrong. We will abort the process immediately, and we have emergency care on standby."
His hand is shaking a little when he pulls it away. Gaster stares at it for a moment, and then clenches it tight.
"Well. Here we go." Slowly, he pulls down the lever that will start the culmination of all their work. The pipes are wires around the DT machine come to life with humming and crackling. It almost sounds satisfied, like a large bird that has just sighted prey. Energy courses down along its surface, pooling at the prongs of its beak, before beaming down in a thin laser of light that hits home right between Sans' eyesockets.
Even unable to hear anything from the room beyond, it's a visibly painful effect. Sans tenses, staring straight up without seeing anything. Sweat beads on his skull, his mouth opens and shuts like a fish out of water, trying to scream but unable to find the breath or the sense. He visibly tries to get out from under the light, but the restraints hold him fast. That's probably for the best. It has to be for the best. They've come too far for anything else. This is the only way.
But Gaster, after a first glance, very deliberately does not look into the room beyond. He keeps his eyes on his readings, on his work, and trusts Frisk to do the same. So they'll probably be the first one to notice that Sans' HP is dropping steadily as the seconds tick on.
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Date: 2016-03-17 11:38 pm (UTC)Gaster draws away, trying to frown in an attempt to hide a fond smile. "Well," he says, looking down at Frisk. "If he can still make jokes, he can't be having too many second thoughts. Get ready, Frisk." Trusting them to do so, he turns on the intercom again.
"Typical monster bodies cannot handle large amounts of determination, that much we have seen. Human bodies, with their much larger proportional amounts of physical matter, can handle it with ease." He nods to Frisk in acknowledgement of this fact. It's just a shame that their much larger proportional amount of physical matter is precisely what makes them invalid for taking Sans' place. "Along with the DT infusion itself, this process should condense parts of your body into a more physical than magical state, allowing them to channel both determination and your magic."
They've gone over this already. Frisk probably knows this lecture by heart by now. He's still stalling, and Gaster can't ignore as much forever.
"You will need a strong soul, of course. Fortunately, we know you have one. But do not hesitate to say something if you feel something is going wrong. We will abort the process immediately, and we have emergency care on standby."
His hand is shaking a little when he pulls it away. Gaster stares at it for a moment, and then clenches it tight.
"Well. Here we go." Slowly, he pulls down the lever that will start the culmination of all their work. The pipes are wires around the DT machine come to life with humming and crackling. It almost sounds satisfied, like a large bird that has just sighted prey. Energy courses down along its surface, pooling at the prongs of its beak, before beaming down in a thin laser of light that hits home right between Sans' eyesockets.
Even unable to hear anything from the room beyond, it's a visibly painful effect. Sans tenses, staring straight up without seeing anything. Sweat beads on his skull, his mouth opens and shuts like a fish out of water, trying to scream but unable to find the breath or the sense. He visibly tries to get out from under the light, but the restraints hold him fast. That's probably for the best. It has to be for the best. They've come too far for anything else. This is the only way.
But Gaster, after a first glance, very deliberately does not look into the room beyond. He keeps his eyes on his readings, on his work, and trusts Frisk to do the same. So they'll probably be the first one to notice that Sans' HP is dropping steadily as the seconds tick on.