Sans (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ribticklers) wrote2021-05-30 02:49 am
ribticklers) wrote2021-05-30 02:49 am
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username: s[Distant trombone noises.] art credit code credit
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private message / text / voicemail / phone call / action
username: s[Distant trombone noises.] art credit code credit
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\E3ERROR^1,, CAN YOU&ADD HOME TO&THAT LIST?/
[Is Sans looking as intently as he seems to be? Because Papyrus is staring back, and not trying to hide his concern and frustration.]
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Hey. [Sans's voice is as liquid as the rest of him, but intelligible.] D'you still want me to change the eyes?
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H-ey Sa-ns.
[It's Papyrus's voice, but not - an imperfect audio file extracted from saved memories, replayed now. (Texting is well and good and natural, but not being able to say a reassuring thing aloud is grating on him, when too many things already are).
That said, he doesn't actually have enough audio samples of his own voice to compile tonally accurate words on the fly. Back to texting.]
\E6NO, I DON'T&WANT YOU&GETTING STABBED./OR FEELING&STABBED./I'LL FIGURE&SOMETHING ELSE&OUT.
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\E3ANY LEADS?/
["Everything's wrong" is a rather open-ended, indefinite kind of problem, especially if whatever rolled underground or whatever happened with the earthquake doesn't unhappen. (Not that the last one unhappened. But he's so tired of the smell and the shadows dripping in corners, and now the eyes are watching him from everywhere around him. It's enough for a robot to want an entirely new outer chassis, just to hide from sight.]
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[And they're dead. But that's not news to him and not news to Papyrus. Still, hey, Papyrus's theory was right all along. It hardly matters, though; Sans is here, and Papyrus is here, and if Sans can slip the leash of this place he can go somewhere else. But he can't leave Papyrus behind. He won't.]
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\E5I KEEP THINKING,&MUST BE A WAY/TO GET RID&OF IT./EVERYTHING&THAT ROTS./
[And, well. The fire in the lawn was right there. If rot and mildew are from damp coolness, the dry heat of flames were the perfect counter-measure. But there's too much of it to burn safely, and the disgust isn't strong enough to completely override his disinclination to hurt people, just flora. (Surprisingly? Thankfully.)]
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All together, it's an upsetting train of thought that nonetheless pulls him back down, little by little. Some of his edges get a little more solid.]
If we could get off of the plane that thing's on, it'd be better. [It is better, when Sans can split himself up or loosen this place's grip by abstraction. Sans still isn't back to normal (what counts as normal while all this is happening), but the way he looks at Papyrus is less hazy and distracted than it was. He's aware enough to make a joke.] But like I said, all our stuff's here.
[Papyrus is here, so Sans won't leave. That's just how it is.]
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[Even if it's in increasing need of a redesign, he generally enjoys corporeality. Better than dissolving, better than floating intangibly in some void of darkness. Sans is talking like the problem is that they can't get themselves and all their stuff out of here, which isn't exactly a new problem - it's only worsened from whatever else is happening now.]
\E3WHAT IF WE&COULD GET THAT&THING OFF HERE?/
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[This hypothetical question really was meant as hypothetical, the opening of a possibility if they could figure something out. But with that track record remark... Fragments of memories about the hallway come back to mind, fragments of the sight of his own body crumbling from a distance. It's obvious Sans is feeling guilty from the way he laughs and goes blurry, and Papyrus's shoulders hunch as he emits more static.]
\E6I DON'T EVEN...&-EXPECT- IT./JUST THINKING./
[He wants to say something like, I don't mean to put this burden on you, to say it aloud with emphasis. But he can't even twist Sans's sounds to that purpose, not enough in recent enough memory to be audible. Frustrating.]
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I can look some stuff up. Check on some things. [Get information. Didn't help last time, but it's something he can do.]
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[Expectations still low, but hey. Info-gathering. Sans enjoys doing that, generally. And maybe he'll find something that Papyrus can use, to save them both from awkward effort arrangements.]
\E5IT'S SOMETHING&TO DO BESIDES&SET FIRES./
[Which isn't intended as a threat, no matter how it might sound. He's aware enough he's making weird decisions based on suddenly changed priorities, but still feeling the change in priorities too much to be sure he'll change his behavior. Having other projects to distract himself with might help.]
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Maybe you can paint some fire on something. [It's not real fire, but it's fire-adjacent. Sans looks thoughtful, as much as he can look like much of anything right now; he's turning the problem of info-gathering over in his mind.]
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[An aesthetic upgrade, to be sure! And for that matter, he could do some other upgrades on himself, huh? The better to be at peak efficiency for more fir-- for whatever else he gets up to.]
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[Sans sounds distracted, but it's the normal kind of distraction where he's still thinking rather than the distraction where he's going to start drifting even farther into space.]
I'll figure something out. [Get some sort of information that's useful. Maybe. What else is there to do except wait for the whole city to come down around their heads?]
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\E0JUST KEEP&ME UPDATED!/
[Sans doesn't need to come to conclusions about it all, that just turns them back to the problem of him feeling too responsible and wigging out.]