We must be friends! [...Though, that's what he assumed about Sans. It made sense, because sure they're both skeletons but is there any resemblance to speak of...? No. So if that's not stopping them...]
I dunno, that seems pretty fishy. [Actually, Sans has no real way to prove or disprove Papyrus's theory. She's not a skeleton, but Sans isn't really sure if that matters.]
But not a red herring! [Because she's blue. Papyrus snickers again as he continues studying the picture, because if anything's clear, it's that the skeleton brothers are connected by bonds of punnery.]
Hmmm. She seems like... an older sister, if a sister. [Partly because she's taller than Papyrus, partly because she's hauling him around in this picture. He goes still, then considers Sans.] Say......... do you remember. How old you are.
Thirty-two. [Though he's not sure where he got that number, actually. One year in the bureau, he remembers that more or less, and then-- Well, he's sure that's the answer (even if he still can't remember the year he spent stuck in a weird illusion where he thought he was the Cheshire Cat).
Actually, his birthday's coming up, isn't it? Yeah. He'll be thirty-three soon. Well, nobody knows when his birthday is anyway, and they have more important things to worry about than that.] What about you?
[Looking at Papyrus, Sans would guess early twenties, but maybe Papyrus just looks young. Or maybe he looks older than he is?]
Oh, wow, you're definitely the older brother. [He may not have lips, but that doesn't stop Papyrus from pouting just a little bit. All the height, but none of the age?? Because now that he's thinking on it, Sans does seem like an older brother. Not quite a decade older.]
I'm... twenty-four. No, twenty-five? Hmm. No, that doesn't seem right.
[He sits back, hand on his chin, and frowns at the counter-top for a few seconds.]
...Twenty-four. But, shouldn't you be about, oh, seven years older than me? [He feels completely sure of this. Sans, explain this discrepancy. Yes, even with the mutually-recognized amnesia.]
[Okay, so Sans is older and Papyrus is younger. Yeah, that feels like it's right. He can't help but wonder if that meant that at some point he can't remember he was taller than Papyrus. That's probably not important.]
I've been here for--a while, since the whole Hunger attacking the world thing. [Does that explain it? Papyrus is here, too.] We all showed up in batches. [Like terrible cookies!] Guess yours was later.
[But that really is a guess. He can't remember when Papyrus showed up, beyond running into him on the island.]
[Already younger, and now made younger still by some kind of shenanigans? The injustice of it. The unfairness. How dare. The younger sibling energy shows as Papyrus continues pouting over the whole matter.]
I guess so. I still don't remember anything here. Besides, since waking up on the beach.
[Which he's remembered since waking, except for the brief time, so maybe it doesn't count as something to mention.]
Oh, but I do remember some home things! I remembered. Traveling through caves. To go to training? With someone in intimidating armor?? [Not what they looked like under the armor, but it was impressive-looking.]
[Focusing on something Papyrus can remember seems less distressing than focusing on what he can't. No need to stir things up.]
What d'you think you were training for? [There's something about traveling through caves that feels very obvious, enough that he doesn't immediately think to ask about that part.]
Some kind of warrior training, I'm sure! With a boss with armor like that. And all my magical talents.
[Sure, some of his magical talents seem more focused on crafting potions and little illusory effects. But others are very combat focused! He always has a weapon on hand, the moment he reaches for one! He's found he can distract people, blind them, help his teammates hit harder... And! he has! a dog.]
I've been watching fights in the Coliseum, and I can see their mistakes before they do! Really, if I just remembered my training... [He'd be a skeleton to reckon with. Even more than he definitely is now.]
Ain't that kind of stuff muscle memory? But I guess neither of us have muscles. [Still, maybe if Papyrus tried out the Coliseum, he'd remember something.]
Exactly!! No muscles. [That is definitely the reason, and not because he keeps trying to politely take turns, or the way he keeps reflexively trying to float or jump in a way his magic doesn't permit.]
Even the brain's a muscle. No wonder we're having so much trouble remembering...
'Cause we're a couple of boneheads? [Heh. But that does make Sans wonder, if he could take a proper look at his soul, if he might notice bits and pieces not working right. Maybe with arcane hacking--but maybe it's better not to know.] We'll probably figure it out sooner or later.
Probably... But let's not give up yet. [He's not enthusiastic about this ongoing delay, and rests his head in his hand, elbow on the counter. Fortunately, Miso Fou doesn't seem fussed about it, giving him time to start mulling over pieces they do have.]
A fish... skeletons, a human, some goats, a lizard... a robot... Mostly like the Animalians. But, "monsters."
[The word monster really did seem more at home than the word people on these islands use. And maybe that was for distinguishing the animal-like people from the... human-like people? He hasn't seen any elves or dwarves in their somewhat biased pictures, yet.]
And it was somewhere with snowfall... and caves... But not much sunlight. [He taps on his cheekbone with a long finger.] I was... confused by the sun, when I woke up. But not by rocks, or trees, or skeletons. Maybe, instead of raining half an hour a day, it snows a little all the time?
[Sans's face clouds a little, as much as it can. It's all in the eyes, really. A place where it snows all the time, where the sun is a surprise...] The stars got me. [He'd walked around all day after he woke up, and then the stars had come out, and he'd felt--well, something. That's kind of embarrassing.] 'Cause they're out of this world, y'know? [WINK. Moving on.]
If it was snowing, that'd be--normal. [Default.] So yeah, guess it must've done a lot of snowing.
[Sans's expression might cloud, but Papyrus's brightens a little. It's reassuring to hear that his brother had something similar, and he has to snort a laugh at the pun.]
I'm amazed we didn't melt, being on a tropical beach! [Well. That's a little exaggerated. It's subtropical. And if they've been "Reclaimers," going on reclaiming missions and whatever, they must have had time to get used to it. Even if their amnesiac base understandings of the world didn't get the memo.]
I should probably stop wearing this, though. [He shrugs to indicate his hoodie, which he absolutely will not stop wearing.] I've got some pretty weird outfits back at my cabana. [Which he does remember wearing on other missions, since it was funny.]
What? Really? And yet you never wear any of it... [Not to say Sans stinks and has an extremely monotonous wardrobe, but he is literally wearing the same hoodie now as in each of the photos of him.]
I can't decide if the farmer outfit or the camping outfit is my favorite. [The camping one is really only funny when Lucretia is around, but it was very good.] Then I've got a whole box of Sayori stuff. [Actually maybe that's the best? There are just so many options!]
Sayori... like Sayori, the Bowmaiden? Real merchandise?? [That's a little impressive. He's had those melty faced icecream pops, and probably has a copy of her poster back in his part of the cabana - that neither he nor Church sleep in. But that's nothing on, what, a hoodie with her logo on it?
Okay, he is maybe assuming things about Sans's usual clothing habits.]
Do you have any cool pics of these outfits? ["Cool pics" is maybe not a word applicable to Sans, either.]
Actually, yeah. [Sans has to open his bracer for it, but there is indeed a picture of Sans wearing a bootleg Sayori t-shirt. shorts, socks, hat, and slippers. It's bootlegs all the way down. The background shows a Lyrabar market side street.]
Oh my god. That's... that's so much. [He almost wants to say too much. It's not exactly what he'd call real merchandise as much as the exact opposite. And can you really call it bootleg merch if there aren't any boots involved??]
But no sunglasses... I bet you could make bow-shaped sunglasses. [Bootleggers of Faerun, look out, Papyrus is brainstorming. Plus leaning in to squint more closely at the image.] That place doesn't look like any of my pictures...
Yeah, that's Lyrabar. [Sans's memories of his time in the bureau are much more intact than anything before it.] That was our fourth mission. Still had both my hands. [Hand nostalgia?] If you can figure out bowglasses, I want a pair.
[Right. Speaking of hand nostalgia. Has Sans remembered enough to be tired of the moments when people notice and stare and then studiously look away from it? Because he's getting that moment in Papyrus flavor now, as he looks where Sans's hand isn't just a little too long.]
A pair of h-- of bowglasses, yeah. I'm sure I can make something like that!
[It's easy to imagine. Just shape the frames so they're like a bow... and the lenses with them... Maybe there's some technical limitations to glasses that he doesn't know about, but it's not like they need to be more than tinted glass, right?
Despite his latching onto the project idea, his gaze wanders toward the hand void again.]
[Yeah, Sans catches that.] I bet Sayori'd think it's cool, she liked all that bootleg stuff, too. [And Papyrus is still doing it. Sans's instinct, of course, is to try to smooth things over with a joke.] It's not a big deal. It's my right hand, not my write hand.
[For some reason, he already has a blueprint in his mind of how this should go. Sans made a joke, Papyrus can laugh or not, and then it's all fine. Is that a memory or just what he's hoping happens?]
[Whoops, busted. Papyrus stiffens a little, but relaxes again with the joke.]
Well, that's all-- I mean. [He catches himself from saying all right, mainly because it would be inaccurate and he can almost hear Sans correcting him on it. Takes a second to gauge the mood, before offering:] As... As long as you're left with what's important.
[Nyeh heh heh. It would be easy to leave it at that, with a couple laughs and dismissing the matter. They've been discovering little habitual patterns that they slide into easy as breathing, especially since Papyrus stopped being so carefully polite, and relaxed enough to insult back. It feels like it'd be easy enough... But nothing's happened to build any expectation that Sans would refuse to answer questions, keeping everything secret. With no sense that there's no point in asking, Papyrus speaks up again, haltingly.]
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Unless. What if she's secretly our sister, too.
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Hmmm. She seems like... an older sister, if a sister. [Partly because she's taller than Papyrus, partly because she's hauling him around in this picture. He goes still, then considers Sans.] Say......... do you remember. How old you are.
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Actually, his birthday's coming up, isn't it? Yeah. He'll be thirty-three soon. Well, nobody knows when his birthday is anyway, and they have more important things to worry about than that.] What about you?
[Looking at Papyrus, Sans would guess early twenties, but maybe Papyrus just looks young. Or maybe he looks older than he is?]
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I'm... twenty-four. No, twenty-five? Hmm. No, that doesn't seem right.
[He sits back, hand on his chin, and frowns at the counter-top for a few seconds.]
...Twenty-four. But, shouldn't you be about, oh, seven years older than me? [He feels completely sure of this. Sans, explain this discrepancy. Yes, even with the mutually-recognized amnesia.]
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I've been here for--a while, since the whole Hunger attacking the world thing. [Does that explain it? Papyrus is here, too.] We all showed up in batches. [Like terrible cookies!] Guess yours was later.
[But that really is a guess. He can't remember when Papyrus showed up, beyond running into him on the island.]
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I guess so. I still don't remember anything here. Besides, since waking up on the beach.
[Which he's remembered since waking, except for the brief time, so maybe it doesn't count as something to mention.]
Oh, but I do remember some home things! I remembered. Traveling through caves. To go to training? With someone in intimidating armor?? [Not what they looked like under the armor, but it was impressive-looking.]
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What d'you think you were training for? [There's something about traveling through caves that feels very obvious, enough that he doesn't immediately think to ask about that part.]
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[Sure, some of his magical talents seem more focused on crafting potions and little illusory effects. But others are very combat focused! He always has a weapon on hand, the moment he reaches for one! He's found he can distract people, blind them, help his teammates hit harder... And! he has! a dog.]
I've been watching fights in the Coliseum, and I can see their mistakes before they do! Really, if I just remembered my training... [He'd be a skeleton to reckon with. Even more than he definitely is now.]
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Even the brain's a muscle. No wonder we're having so much trouble remembering...
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A fish... skeletons, a human, some goats, a lizard... a robot... Mostly like the Animalians. But, "monsters."
[The word monster really did seem more at home than the word people on these islands use. And maybe that was for distinguishing the animal-like people from the... human-like people? He hasn't seen any elves or dwarves in their somewhat biased pictures, yet.]
And it was somewhere with snowfall... and caves... But not much sunlight. [He taps on his cheekbone with a long finger.] I was... confused by the sun, when I woke up. But not by rocks, or trees, or skeletons. Maybe, instead of raining half an hour a day, it snows a little all the time?
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If it was snowing, that'd be--normal. [Default.] So yeah, guess it must've done a lot of snowing.
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I'm amazed we didn't melt, being on a tropical beach! [Well. That's a little exaggerated. It's subtropical. And if they've been "Reclaimers," going on reclaiming missions and whatever, they must have had time to get used to it. Even if their amnesiac base understandings of the world didn't get the memo.]
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Just how weird are they?
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farmer sans... reminded of all the oira art
Okay, he is maybe assuming things about Sans's usual clothing habits.]
Do you have any cool pics of these outfits? ["Cool pics" is maybe not a word applicable to Sans, either.]
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But no sunglasses... I bet you could make bow-shaped sunglasses. [Bootleggers of Faerun, look out, Papyrus is brainstorming. Plus leaning in to squint more closely at the image.] That place doesn't look like any of my pictures...
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A pair of h-- of bowglasses, yeah. I'm sure I can make something like that!
[It's easy to imagine. Just shape the frames so they're like a bow... and the lenses with them... Maybe there's some technical limitations to glasses that he doesn't know about, but it's not like they need to be more than tinted glass, right?
Despite his latching onto the project idea, his gaze wanders toward the hand void again.]
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[For some reason, he already has a blueprint in his mind of how this should go. Sans made a joke, Papyrus can laugh or not, and then it's all fine. Is that a memory or just what he's hoping happens?]
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Well, that's all-- I mean. [He catches himself from saying all right, mainly because it would be inaccurate and he can almost hear Sans correcting him on it. Takes a second to gauge the mood, before offering:] As... As long as you're left with what's important.
[Nyeh heh heh. It would be easy to leave it at that, with a couple laughs and dismissing the matter. They've been discovering little habitual patterns that they slide into easy as breathing, especially since Papyrus stopped being so carefully polite, and relaxed enough to insult back. It feels like it'd be easy enough... But nothing's happened to build any expectation that Sans would refuse to answer questions, keeping everything secret. With no sense that there's no point in asking, Papyrus speaks up again, haltingly.]
...Do you... remember what happened?
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this icon: obligatory
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