[mingle] what's the dream and what's the reality?

[lovetheme]

Lately the castle's nights have been very clear and almost warm, even up so high among the clouds as they are. But regardless of the weather, they are generally peaceful nights, and few things seem to stir during them...apart from the castle's inhabitants, be it with late-night roving or with sleep. The dreams, by extension, are at least undisturbed...if maybe not always pleasant. That sort of thing tends to vary by the person, of course.

But now--and for several nights, consecutively--the castle residents may find their dreams starting to take on stranger shapes: memories they've never had, friends that don't usually arrive, strangers they've never seen. These odd impressions might cling and continue to confuse even upon waking, vivid as they were; was it really just a dream, or maybe something more...? Does that newcomer in your dream remember you there too, in the daytime?

Either way, there seems to be an strange energy in the air during these nights. And it's bringing dreams together.

((ooc: And here's the catch-all post for the dream-sharing event! Feel free to top-level with your character's dreams here, or thread around in others! The event should only last about a week, but backtagging is eternal c: The ooc planning post can be found here!))

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[sansational]

There's a knife on a nearby table. It looks sharp enough, right up until the point Frisk picks it up. Then it will reveal itself to be just a well-crafted toy. Which is probably a strange enough thing to find even outside of a lab. You don't see many toys like that, nowadays.

Sans is awake, at least, even if he's not trying to move much. He's at least conscious enough to glower up at the machine. "hey," he says, as sternly as he ever can. "you got what you wanted. behave."

The machine grumbles at him, its beak creaking, but slowly falls silent once more.

Gaster appears beside Frisk, as though he's been there the entire time. "It's all right," he says, resting a hand on Frisk's shoulder. "There's a trick to it." Which he shows by reaching out and undoing the straps for them. Or at least, he moves his fingers over them and they simply vanish. But it gets the job done anyway.

[dustless]

They huff and nod their thanks to Gaster, pocketing the knife. There's a faded ribbon tied around their neck, they notice--they're not watching from inside their body anymore, but from the blank eyes of the machine itself.

Frisk watches as they put their hands on Sans' shoulders, trying to sit him up. Even if maybe that isn't the best idea, with how agonized he just seemed to be.

"Gotta get you to a place to heal."

[sansational]

It might not be the best idea, but since Gaster moves to help Frisk get Sans sitting up, it also might not be the worst. They're all in uncharted territory, right now. All they can do is keep trying.

"We also need to see if it worked."

"what time is it?" Sans asks, looking from one to the other.

Gaster tells him, or at least he probably does. Somehow, the actual words don't seem to get spoken, but Sans' eyesockets go wide anyway. "gotta get home," he says suddenly, trying to shrug them both off, trying to stand up.

And suddenly, he goes from making that attempt to finding himself collapsed in a heap by the door to the testing chamber, without appearing to move. Gaster says something indistinct, but something that sounds decidedly alarmed, as he hurries over to check on his brother.

[dustless]

What time? "Too late," the machine whispers in their voice.

"Sans." Frisk is watching him from atop the table. "Sans. Sans. Sans." They can't say anything else, their voice is stuck on a loop.

They jump down and feel the floor crack around their feet. "Sans." They stagger forwards, following in Gaster's footsteps.

"Failure."

[sansational]

"Too late. The clock is broken. The clock cannot be fixed."

Gaster reaches down to help Sans up. Sans accepts the offer of assistance, and all but bounds to his feet. He smiles up at them, looking excited, looking overjoyed...

But whatever he's saying is indistinct, and he doesn't notice Gaster look to Frisk and shake his head sadly. "Failure is not always immediately apparent. Should we tell him now?"

"tell him later," the Sans in the hoodie says from Gaster's other side. "papyrus gets cranky if he doesn't get his bedtime story."

"The timer is at zero seconds. The timer is at negative one seconds."

[dustless]

The machines unweave their lines

the machines reach out

the machines spool around his bones

the machines sink their wires-data-time into him

the machines stain him with lines of

[҉҉҉R҉҉҉E҉҉҉D҉҉҉A҉҉҉C҉҉҉T҉҉҉E҉҉҉D҉҉҉]҉

"Wait," Frisk whispers.

[sansational]

Sans looks down at the marks on his hands and arms with complete incomprehension and visible hope that they don't mean what they obviously do. The machine is what they used to give him these powers. The machine must be a good thing. Hope is the thing with feathers, and so it must inevitably die. But they haven't heard him, and he hasn't heard them, and suddenly they're all sitting together in the river person's boat, heading safely home for Snowdin.

Gaster continues speaking as though the shift in time and space hasn't happened, picking up a conversation he never actually began.

"I will not be here to tell him. I am never here to tell him. Please promise me that you will." Gaster wrings his hands miserably, except he's only doing so with one. The other hand seems to have disappeared, somehow.

[dustless]

Frisk reaches over to touch Gaster's one hand. They're in their normal clothes now, labcoat gone (it's hanging on an echo flower, it's bending under the cloth's weight, and they don't know how they know but they know it'll break and they're sad for the wish that it once held) and replaced with a dusty tutu.

"I--I want to. I want to promise." They don't know why they don't think they can.

They look between Gaster and Sans mournfully. The sound of clicking, ticking clocks vibrates through their teeth.