ribticklers | Inbox

It... might be.

[His hesitation isn't one of personal guilt (or guiltless recognition of the problem) - if he had any part spilling that information, he has no knowledge of it. Instead he's disconcerted, multitasking even harder.]

Some of them... Mary, she's talking like it's a friend? [Not the same way 'Jonas' had been, full of airy curiosity and saccharine friendliness and near-threats of inevitability. Like a kid who believes what she's saying.] Maybe it's telling people... all kinds of things.

Yeah. Just saying whatever gets them down there. [That's awful on its face, of course, but there's an extra layer of awful for Sans, thinking about his own soul being used as one of those whatevers. He's not something Okpaza can use. He's not. He refuses.] It's like they've never spent time around liars before. I should know.

[It's reflexive self-deprecation. But he notices, which is unusual, and says as uncertainly as he's said much more terrifying things in this conversation:] Well. I've got standards. There's stuff I wouldn't say.

[Papyrus doesn't quite pause his multitasking, but he pulls more of his attention back to physical reality at Sans's add-on. More specifically, at the continued uncertain tone - rather than something deliberately light and brushing the thing off. Seems like... Sans recombined in a weird way too, huh? Maybe not a bad thing.]

And stuff you wouldn't do. Different orders of magnitude altogether!

[Is the agreeing reassurance out of character for Papyrus, overcompensating positivity now that he can say encouraging things while the problems all matter to him...? At the least, they can both agree that complaining about Ozpaka has way more basis than complaining about anything either skeleton's done. A little basement kidnapping is a different scale of things too... Nyeh. Heh.]

Yeah. [Maybe. There's a lot of things he would do, but--but no, not absolutely anything. There are things worse than him. He's not the worst, that's somewhere he can start, he guesses.

There's somehow even more things to talk about than there were before Papyrus left to take a shower.] I guess we should... Put her somewhere. [Not like the containers Asgore puts souls in, that seems too confined, but somewhere. Sans can't just carry her around.]

Y-Yeah. Maybe, a nice cushion to float over. [Something to establish that this is a welcoming scene, as panic-inducing as it really sort of is - he can feel that nap percentage climbing.

Of course, that leaves the question of whether the soul will float. Sans described trying to pull Dinah, herself, and only coming away with this core of her - will her soul try to float back to her body, whatever's left of it? His teeth grit together for a second as he braces to ask:] She... doesn't try sinking down, right?

I don't think so. [Though Sans hasn't been hanging onto her for that long, it seems like she's just resting in his hands. He examines it, raising and lowering his hands to test how it moves.] I think she'll stay where we put her.

[He thinks. Maybe they should keep an eye on her after they find a place to put her just in case.]

[Papyrus nods, more grimly than usual. He's feeling positive things again - or is it feeling negative things again? The negative feelings sure are outnumbering the positives, louder and more immediately relevant, and he can't tell if that's because everything is kind of terrible, or...

He pushes the thought out of mind again for dealing with later, this whole business with Dinah's maybe-partial death a lot more immediate. It hasn't looked like the soul's been tugging at Sans's hands, or anything - content to rest there unabsorbed, or maybe unable to do anything. Unresponsive? He crouches down enough to be eye level with it - with her - and watches for signs of movement.]

Can you move around, if we ask you questions? We could... put on the TV, or something! Or a movie anyway. [The power is on again, whether because of the partially restored power grid or their house, but who knows whether the broadcast channels are up.]

[The soul continues to sit in Sans's hands, unmoving.] I dunno if she can hear us. But a movie probably wouldn't hurt.

[Sans thought he could have used a break after the stuff at the power plant, but now he really needs one.] I could put her on the coffee table for a while, maybe.

[There's no guarantee Sans will stay awake for a movie, and dropping her on the floor would probably be rude.]

[The disappointment of the soul's unresponsiveness stings. Souls are supposed to be the essence of a person, their compassion and memories and whatever... Is she in shock, maybe? He has to admit to himself it'd be understandable, if she is.]

...On cushion, not the table itself! That's more... polite. And maybe comfortable. [In fact, he's going to grab a decorative couch cushion off it right now, as if he's going to do all the setup for this hypothetical movie right now, but the action reminds him he still has a hand supporting the towel.] And... I will be back down in a minute or two, with movie options! And pajamas, I guess.

I'll go grab a cushion. [Heading for the couch sounds like a good idea in general anyway. He grabs one of those little cushions--the one he has to use at least two of if he wants a real high quality couch nap--and puts it on the coffee table before putting Dinah on the cushion. He's kind of worried she might slide off or something, but she stays where he puts her. When he sits on the couch, he feels like staying where he put himself, too, so he can relate.

The tension of being underground is finally starting to drain out of him, leaving him mostly exhausted. The fear is still there at the edges of his awareness, but he doesn't want to deal with that. He doesn't want to deal with having gotten dragged down again at all. His soul had been down there, which means Okpaza had been right there, which means Dinah had, what, charged Okpaza for him? That's still absolutely baffling.

When Papyrus comes back downstairs, Sans will be on the couch, staring in the direction of Dinah's soul but not really seeing it, trying to sort out his thoughts into something he can deal with. Or ignore. Whichever.]

[The footfalls down the hall and staircase as Papyrus returns aren't as heavy as when he rushed downstairs several minutes ago - much less when he stomped around, pissed off, through the last couple weeks. But they're audible, metal too weighty to walk lightly without real effort that he's not putting into it right now, the better not to startle Sans by suddenly returning. He's in pajamas as promised, a couple dvd cases under his elbow, and a flash drive pinched between fingers.]

...Any changes? [He ventures the question less out of hope than to nudge Sans out of the vacant staring. If his brother's going to stare vaguely like that, maybe he can at least feel useful by looking for something. (Or is that kind of value through busy work more Papyrus's thing?)]

[Sans regains his focus when Papyrus addresses him, some eyelights flicking to Papyrus while the others look at Dinah.] Doesn't seem like it. But she's not shattering or anything either, so. [Could be worse. He's seen worse, can still remember those erased timelines where he was the one who beat the anomaly, or where Undyne did. Add all of those chaotic memories to the pile of things he doesn't want to think about. (And he won't think at all about the timelines where the anomaly hadn't seemed quite so cruel. He's here at the end result, so what's it matter? It doesn't matter. It doesn't.)] Maybe she passed out.

Maybe... I have no idea what that'd look like. [Papyrus admits it with a quiet forced levity, trying to distract himself from the distraction of remembering seeing a soul shatter from a distance. What would a passed out soul look like, anyway? The heart shape falling over on the cushion? A few Zs of magic drifting up from it...?

His charge hasn't dropped a full percent yet, so it hasn't gone pinging Sans's phone again... But he can assess himself for each of those stats. That composite 'willingness to take a nap' sure has climbed a few points since fleeing to the shower.] Maybe we'll all pass out. It's been... a lot.

If you're suggesting it, it's probably mandatory. [Everybody can pass out on or near the couch, and things won't be better when they wake up, but maybe it won't be worse.] Maybe some of the others'll get more of the power on.

[But, judging by how people were responding to his network post, maybe not.]

Oh my god, please. I want the grid back. [The digital patter of appliances powering back on, the underlying white noise of electromagnetic signals, is rising again. It's a comforting presence, especially after its lack these last couple weeks - the lack surely didn't help him, his negative half especially.

That said, he doesn't gravitate immediately to the couch. There's still laying out the various movie options on the table around the soul, the better to give it - her - and Sans the option of pointing towards one.] ...But we have each very much done our part. So. Movie time. Any preferences? I've got more digitally, if none of these hit the spot.

I vote for this one. [Sans grabs the nearest DVD case with one of his invisible hands, making it float for a moment before dropping it again. He didn't actually look at which it was; it doesn't really matter to him. Anything that might make his thoughts slow down for a little while, just long enough for exhaustion to make him pass out for a few hours.]

[Another day, he might have protested the lack of thought displayed in the selection process - or lack thereof, was there even time for Sans to read them? But Papyrus doesn't bother to read it either, just grabs it again and deposits the rest out of the way, then heads to the TV.

Putting the disc in the player takes three tries, the success finally working out when he automates the motion instead of trying to move his hands himself. They're shaking, for some reason. It wasn't so noticeable, upstairs. Or maybe it's worse now that he's looking back to Sans, and Dinah's soul floating passively over the cushion.] Is... Is the remote over there?

Uh--probably? [It being by the couch makes sense, at least. Sans has enough eyes to look without moving, but he still twists his head out of habit. He's not sure if that will go away eventually or not. The remote control isn't anywhere unusual, just sitting on the couch between where the two of them normally sit, but it takes Sans several long seconds to realize it's there.] Yeah, got it. [He'll even use it to turn on the television and everything.]

[The TV coming on adds to the bolstering electronics hum, though it's still not nearly enough to settle him. That the DVD player starts the moment it loads the disc means there's the light and sound of its starting commercials too, which he can hope Sans is distracted by - at least enough to miss the precision with which Papyrus straightens and returns towards the couch.]

Okay... [Manual control, and he sits hard in his usual spot, then hides his hands between his knees.] Okay, good! And, if it's not to anyone's liking, feel free to speak up. Or... float around, or something.

[Sans is trying pretty hard to be distracted by the DVD as it starts up, but some of his eyes follow Papyrus's precise movements while another watches Dinah's soul. He can't focus, and that shouldn't be a problem except that means he can't slow his thoughts down. He's looking in the direction of the television but he's hardly processing it. He's definitely not getting any closer to falling asleep.]

[Being constantly watched is just part of being in Sans's presence, these days. And not just his brother's face, not even the halo too - aren't there a few eyes in the walls, still, in frequently used places like this? Papyrus doesn't slouch under the watchful silence, but it's a strain.]

And... if it's all good... Feel free to say nothing! [The strain is a little audible in his voice, despite himself. It's easier to rein in trembling motions by going by automated movements - especially since he's been programming various movements for use whenever, to make more of a habit so he can more easily conceal things in plain sight. But getting his voice down with a convincing cadence is a lot harder to do on the fly, so there's no easy automating that away.]

[Sans is saying nothing, but the longer he sits there and continues to say nothing, the more he's convinced things are not actually all good. Okay, so he knew that. Everyone knows that. But it's all stuck in his skull, and he realizes that even with the movie on right now he has no idea what it is they're supposed to be watching. Being underground again, the power plant, the time spent split in two--it's a lot all at once.

Sans drops his head back to stare pointlessly up at the ceiling. Then he grabs one of the decorative cushions and drops it on his face, like that will do anything. It doesn't.]

[Truth be told, Papyrus can't focus on the movie either. It's easy enough to continuously distract himself - the background signals are less stabbingly sparse, populating enough to make an ongoing white noise of things to listen and watch again. But he's multitasking with a little more purpose than that, going over the various responses to Sans's post like he'll figure out just the thing to tell them, so they don't all start recklessly spelunking in to very real danger's way. It's not something he has high hopes for achieving, not even really middling hopes...

To distract himself from the failed distraction, he glances over his brother's way. Just in time to see the cushion's plummet, and the way it sits there on Sans's unmoving face.]

...Okay... If it's a terrible movie, you can just say so! [It's not quite accusatory, for all there's a frustration with the very clearly stated movie-watching feedback rules not being followed here. He goes on to empathize, a little hysterically:] I completely understand! Sometimes things are... unexpectedly awful!

'S not that. [Sans's voice is muffled from the cushion, but not as much as it would be if he was one of those people who had to move their mouths to talk.] It's all the other awful stuff. Y'know. Just Tuesday around here.

[If Sans was still split in two, he imagines his negative side would have kept going. He doesn't have to, though. There's something a little odd about being able to be negative but stop himself.]

Sometimes things are unexpectedly awful!! [The on-edge cheer of his repetition doesn't abate, and if anything is all the stronger. Contradicting Sans's words, but agreeing with the sentiment behind them. He hesitates after saying so, though, and waits a second to dare adding:] Things like... everything.

[Now that he's mentioned it... He wants to keep talking. There's a floodgate of things to complain about, express fear about, seek - and give! - reassurances about. Too much for any old movie to just cover over. But... but he doesn't want to trample over Sans's hurts, if his brother really can't talk about it right now. Sans didn't even get the comfort of a shower, yet. The least Papyrus can do is throw him a bone.] This is worse than any just Tuesday around here. It's... it's a Threesday, at least.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

too sleepy to think of specific videos he might've grabbed over time

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject