castle_perrault | [open: tw for blood, mind fuckery, suicidal ideation] I guess it's over now

Entry tags:

to the moon

[open: tw for blood, mind fuckery, suicidal ideation] I guess it's over now

Before:

He just needed something fun. That's what he's been telling himself. After nights of various unpleasant dreams being hijacked by his friends, and then being forcibly shoved into everyone else's weird nightmares like a far less fun version of the Matrix, Watts needs a break. He's not helping Sans with his science. He's not trying to wander the castle and have conversations with people that more than likely are annoyed by him. He just... needs some stupid harmless fun.

And when there's no gaming consoles or wifi in the castle, you have to get a little creative.

Apparently, Neil's codes aren't completely useless in the castle. Sure, he can't reset memories, disable speech or taste, turn off his visibility, or even lure out mementos, but he still has some skill with manipulating data.

He's found a nice little private space in the lounge, and passersby may find him focusing very hard on a patch of air in front of him. Literally a patch, it seems to jut out from the rest of the air, shimmering and shuddering in front of Neil's hand. Eventually, it grows and morphs, changing colours... and in another instant, there's a tabby cat letting out a loud meow as it's suddenly dropped from the air back down to the ground.

"Haha, yes!" Neil gets down to his knees, scratching behind one of the cat's ears. The cat surveys him and lets out another mew.

"Hm... not exactly up to my usual standards, but I'll have to make do. Now, what else can I try..."

After:

Neil's still in the lounge... it's just that now there are more of them.

There seem to be a literal crowd of scientists slouching around the lounge, leaned back on couches, staring out windows, walking in place. They're all mumbling to each other, some of them more clear than others. One of them smiles at a double of himself as you walk past.

"Well, I suppose I had a good run."

The other stares back at him. "Not good enough, it seems."

There's one that has cornered another Neil against the wall, constantly slamming his fist into the doppleganger's gut. "It's how people blew off steam before FPS were invented," he reassures you with a grin.

Still more snippets can be heard if you push through the crowd. "We always succeed, because we're awesome." "The geezers just keep getting crazier..." "I'd be screwed either way."

In the center of the group is Neil. The real one, not buzzing in and out of existence in bursts of static, but... he still doesn't look good. He's curled up on himself, nails digging into the floor, feebly coughing and hacking as blood dribbles down his jaw and onto the collar of his shirt. A few copies of the same woman stand around him, looking down at him with the same mixture of annoyance and apathy.

"Tell me what you see." One says, holding out a pill bottle. She takes off the cap and holds it upside down. Nothing falls out.

"Shut... just shut up." Neil mutters hoarsely, and another one laughs, answering in his own voice.

"'Shut up' isn't my name, you know."

He tries to pull himself away from them, crawling along the floor.

"Why are you working so hard for this? 'All this trouble, just for some girl.' That's what I thought you'd say."

One of them finally turns to look at you, and moves so she can block Neil from view. "Get out. This ain't a movie and you're no hero. You're just being a moron."

There's more coughing from behind her, but Neil doesn't seem to be trying to move anymore. There's no point, is there? He's fucked up enough here already. And he didn't want to be here anyways...

"Why would you waste time like that?"

Yes, why would he? Being here isn't doing himself any good. He's not going to fix his machine, he's not going to make any advances... all he's doing is running out his clock.

Might as well let the batteries die a little early.

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"Would I lie to you? Humans are crazy weird like that."

God, her shock is hilarious. It makes him laugh for a moment, before he dissolves into more harsh coughing.

At once, without looking away, she reaches for another cup and fills it with thyme tea. She holds it out for him to take when he can, whispering as she does, "Ai Belain veleg, eitho i neg dîn."

She cannot bear to see him in such pain. Surely the Belain will have mercy upon him.

He takes a long, shuddering breath, slowly reaching for the tea and taking a sip. Eventually, he finds the energy to speak again.

"...Sorry. God, this is such a mess."

She watches him as he drinks, ready to sit him up should he choke.

When he speaks, pain strikes her anew. "I wish you had told me. I would not have thought less of you for being sick."

"Well, uh, I'm used to keeping it a secret. Was only planning to slip up the one time here. There was no point telling anyone, since either I get home and get to give myself some sort of conclusion, or I stay here and waste away."

He laughs softly.

"No one really has any control over when death strikes."

It is...hard to hear one so very young speak like this, especially one she has come to count as a friend.

"Even so, you did not need to suffer. I could have helped you long before this."

She could have begun to search for a cure while he still had some health.

"There's no real way to help me. And I didn't want to bother anyone with trying to figure this out. I mean, I'm doing enough trying to fix it myself."

Not that there's much he can do, trapped in this place without his modified machine.

Fortunately, there's only so fast that a fire can rise when you don't have fire magic to nudge it along. So Sans doesn't do anything to try and hasten her along. He's genuinely not sure that he could, at this point. Instead, he just follows her into the kitchen at a shuffle. When Grune moves to the fire, Sans moves to the table. He takes a seat, folds his arms on top of it, and slumps forward to rest his head on them.

So his voice, when he speaks, is a mumble. But it's a heartfelt one. "thanks for this, grune."

For a moment, she looks down at him. Then, she shakes her head.

"Mellonenin úhel, did you not think that your friends would want to be troubled by you? We care for you, Neil. We want to help you in however small ways we can."

Edited 2016-04-09 04:03 (UTC)

"You don't need to say thank you." On the way back to where she left her flowers, she stops by the table to lay her hand upon his head. "Neil is my friend. I'm happy I can help him."

After a moment, she returns to the counter. A little bug has crawled out of the elder flowers; carefully, on her finger, she gives it a ride to the door.

"Like regular ones, but not enough salt on it." Not as good, but still better than what they're used to.

Frisk shifts away a little. He's covering his face and not quite facing them, but still, they don't want to risk getting their food all covered in his spit.

After the silence has stretched on for a moment, Sans lifts his head, curiosity overcoming exhaustion for a moment. He does so just in time to see the bug flutter off of Grune's finger and out the door, into the late afternoon air.

He smiles just a bit, despite himself. "one of these days, i've really gotta ask you what home was like." He doesn't think he ever has.

Grune glances toward him as she returns to counter and begins carefully separating out the elder flowers. "Oh, do you mean the Legacy?"

Sans rests his chin in his hands to watch her work. The more he can even begin to memorize about how to do this, the better - Neil's sickness doesn't look like the sort of sickness that will easily clear up even after a cup of good tea. "sure, if that's what you call it." He comes from the Underground, after all.

...He may not be perfect at speaking Elvish, but what he can pick up on, paired with the tone of her voice, is enough to make him flush. He looks away from her, desperately trying to grab onto the asshole persona he always adopts, but of course it's gone now and there's just a nerdy kid in need of friendship underneath.

"Well, to be honest, I... didn't think any of you were actually my friends." He snorts. "I didn't ask you to care about me... you all must be crazy, putting that much effort into me. But maybe I'm just crazy for not seeing it."

She lays a hand upon his shoulder for a moment. "Or maybe we have not shown our care for you as we should have. No matter the reason, I hope you know now that you have our friendship."

There is but a little blood left upon his neck. She picks up the cloth, dips it in the cooling water, and reaches to wipe the last of it away.

He would make a comment on how the salt is the best part, but he... isn't really getting a chance to. He can't seem to stop coughing, now, his breathing getting more hoarse as he struggles for air.

And they'd agree if they could.

Mostly, though, they're just staring at him with steadily-increasing concern. "Are you choking?" Frisk scoots closer, nervously holding their hand over his back. They don't know what they're supposed to do when someone's choking--

"Well...." She spends a moment thinking. "The Legacy is a very beautiful place with so many friendly people. The towns are lively and cheerful, and the forests and mountains and oceans are wonderful. I'm very happy to be able to live there."

"oh, yeah? sounds nice." It sounds just as nice as this place, and certainly as lively. If Sans had come from a place like that, with friends that were still alive, he didn't think he would stop looking for a minute for a way to get back.

"don't you miss it?"

"Hmmm...." She thinks for a while. Her hands slow.

After a moment, she says, "I miss my friends."

Then she resumes working at her earlier speed.

His coughing continues on for a few more intense moments, and then with one last sickening, shuddering cough, he stops, pulling his hand away. He sees... something in his hand and almost swears again.

"Listen, kid, this has been fun but... I really think you should leave now, okay? I need some space."

He can only hope there isn't blood at the corner of his mouth.

It's a pity this is Frisk, and not some other more easily-led (or perhaps the right word would be misled) child.

"...Dr. Watts. What's the matter?"

"I... guess I do. It's a little hard to accept, that's all."

He squirms a bit when she wipes the last of it away, but it's basically weak and embarrassed flailing. When she stops, he looks up at her, and then back down at the bed.

"Um... thanks. For being my friend even if I was an ass."

Though he does not look at her, she watches as much of his face as she can see.

"I am glad to have done so." She smiles a little. "Thank you for being my friend, even when I spoke in anger to you through my lack of understanding."

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