interstellar5555 | 'Cause I'm Lonely and I'm Blue

Entry tags:

'Cause I'm Lonely and I'm Blue

Who: Frisk, Connie, Greg, Papyrus, and Sans
What: Rescuers rescue the kidnapped rescuer of kidnapped
When: April 20
Where: Wave Boulevard Mall, Spooky Virgo Torture Dungeon
Warnings: mention of serious violence at the least

It's been a week since Sans smuggled his fellow musicians from Virgo, contacted allies to let them know he was leaving... and then evidently vanished altogether. It's been two days since articles surfaced talking about his wild bender that ended him up in rehab, and isn't it a shame, let's all keep him in our thoughts.

Sans didn't ever have a whole lot of fans. The guy kept to himself, rarely made appearances, and generally only performed just well enough to justify being in the band in the first place. His legacy would likely be the toc-tic pun memes that would go around for a couple weeks, then fade out into obscurity. People wouldn't miss him.

It's pretty much all that's been on Greg's mind. His friend made a heroic effort, and paid for it. It's his fault. But life goes on, right?

So here he is. Buying flowers for his bedroom. To liven the place up, you know? Add some color, to contrast the blackened char left behind by giant laser blasts. It'll really brighten things up.

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With all of Greg's magic and Papyrus' impressive use of bone swarms, there's not much for a tiny swordsgirl to do. You can't fight post traumatic stress disorder with a sword. So, instead, as everyone hustles about, Connie whirls around on her heel to grab Lion's fur.

"Lion! Be our sentry, okay? She's coming and we need to know when!" And hopefully, while more noticeable, a giant pink lion will fare better against this mystery woman while the rest of them are busy. As he settles into place, Connie quickly sweeps her eyes around the rest of the lab. She hadn't been able to take in the rest of it- Sans' horrific situation had knocked her off balance. Now, however, she quickly hurries over to the strange crystals. Focusing on other things will help keep her from being so shaken up.

What are these? Who knows! But they seem too important to let Virgo keep. Slipping off a sneaker and flipping open her messenger bag, Connie starts knocking the crystals into her bag with the shoe.

What? You don't touch strange mystical artifacts with your bare skin.

Oh, that's much worse.

The overstimulated panic of before is shoved to the wayside in favour of absolute mental pandemonium. Despite having been eager to embrace death in a general sense, instincts still manage to get in the way when a situation so violently demands fight or flight. He'd been incapable of connecting the dots of the situation before - he hadn't realized what had changed. But now, whether or not he understands it is irrelevant, because the deepest parts of him are reaching out for the only way he knows how to save himself from more pain.

And with that crushing weight off of his chest, and his soul, his magic is capable of answering this time - but not without its costs.

Sans vanishes from the machine, only to be wrenched out of his shortcut a mere moment later, collapsing into a pile of fragile, shaking bones several feet away. He's taken the collar with him, and its disruption comes in the form of a sickening amount of pain all throughout his spine and his skull. A pair of fingers end up slipped around the collar, frivolously trying to pull it away from himself as if to reduce its effect, while his other arm folds around his chest like he's just trying to hold himself together.

He curls on the floor, making a wretched sound through his teeth. The back of the collar has an extension that looks as if it's been set into the spaces between his cervical vertebrae.

One minute, Papyrus is still working on breaking the table to break Sans free of those bonds. The next minute, Sans isn't even there anymore. At least it proves Papyrus' theory that getting all that crap off his brother is more helpful than harmful, if Sans reached the point of being able to move like that.

But it's also terrible, because how can they rescue someone who teleported away? He whirls around, knowing Sans might have gone anywhere. What if he's out of sight in another part of the labs, or in another building altogether? Lion's not a dog, he might not be able to track by scent---there Sans is.

Curled up on the ground. Making the worst sound he's ever heard his brother make. This... this can't go on.

Papyrus crouches beside him, And no wonder, he wasn't quite free yet! That collar was still there, and somehow rooted into his spine? These music scientists are the worst. "Okay, this looks bad... but we just need to get this collar off of you. And that other thing out from under it. And then you'll be free of all that stuff!"

Does the collar have an obvious locking mechanism, like a number pad, or card reader, or keyhole, or something? Papyrus could surely break it with another volley of bones, but Sans just looks so fragile that he'd rather make that his second plan.

How is that he can feel like he's dying for so long without it actually happening? Sans can only assume the transition has to be worse than anything afterwards. It's not the first time he's felt the bite of this device by far, and every time it's made him feel like he's on death's door.

Papyrus can manage to get a look at the collar without any interference from Sans at this point. The closest thing to a locking mechanism appears to be a very small button hole in the center of the back of his neck, that could be pushed in by anything long and thin enough. There is likely a specific tool for doing this, but on the other hand, anything of the right size would probably do.

The migraine overtook Greg's brain as soon as the device released from Sans' skull. The next thirty or so seconds were lost in a white-hot lance of pain. The room's too bright and the noises too loud. His vision blurs, fades, buzzes.

When Greg starts pulling himself together he's leaning heavily against the wall, covered in sweat and limbs made entirely of lead. He pushed himself too far on too little magic.

Slowly, he falls back on the rule he'd set up: one thing at a time. Sans. That collar's not coming off with magic, so it's time to get conventional.

With great effort, Greg pulls out the tiny plastic flag on a little wire labeling his flowerpot "snapdragon." He holds it out. "This'll do, right?"

That hole looks promising. Like a reset button, and they certainly want to reset that collar off of Sans. Maybe even, if they were feeling especially vindictive, reset it onto one of those scientists?

...Nah. But the hole's a little too small for a bone. If only he had a really old-fashioned cellphone, the antenna could be re-purposed for this very easily. Heck, a pen would do the trick.

He looks over at Greg's question, and lights up at the sight of the plastic flag and its wire. "That will do very well! A very unconventional sort of lockpick... but I can make this work!."

It's almost absurdly easy to poke the wire into the hole, and hope for the best.

It takes a couple moments of pressing, but then the locking mechanism makes an audible whirring sound and the hinge peeks open in the back - enough for it to be to be easily removed, if not for its attachment to the spine. That, with some careful coaxing, can be pulled out with one smooth movement - like pulling out an IV. Except in this case, it's several thin needles poking in between the bones.

It's unclear what's going through Sans's head at this point. He just seems to be lying there shaking again, though he'll retch softly as the device pulls out. It should be obvious, what's going on around him, but none of it is sinking in like it should.

Edited 2016-04-25 20:02 (UTC)

Connie seems to have the whole weird glowing crystal thing in hand, so Frisk doesn't bother going to offer her help. They're much more occupied with Sans.

Setting the pie down on the floor, they kneel by Papyrus while he works the collar from Sans's neck. In any other circumstance, they'd let Papyrus handle this alone. Granted, they'd rather he weren't witnessing this at all...but Sans is his brother. This ought to be the most comforting things possible.

But it won't be. They remember how he got just about hearing Papyrus's name. It won't help anything at all. Besides, they've done this before - loss of soul is different from this, but maybe not so different. They lean forward to place a gentle hand on Sans's shoulder bone, which they deem the safest place. "Sans?"

Everything is terrible, but at least there's brains involved. Papyrus puts the flag aside, and carefully eases off the collar and its metal roots with it. It takes a wiggle or two to get all the needles free, and Papyrus feels a little like retching too... but they slip out of his spine, and then it's done.

His brother is free, but he doesn't seem to realize everything's better. Just sitting there, shaking... instead of looking around at them, expressing surprise or cheer at seeing them. Maybe he needs a little coaxing. "Okay, I think that's everything. Frisk, do you still have that pie? Maybe now's a better time."

Frisk glances up at Papyrus, then nods. The pie's right here. The only problem, really, is that Sans is in no condition to eat it. They don't want to force pie down his throat (or whatever), and that's even if they knew how to get his mouth open. Which...they're not sure about.

Instead, they just take the pie and hold it out to Sans. It's Toriel's pie; he knows this. She bakes it all the time. They've done a lot of reading online about memories lately. In humans, smell is very closely linked to remembering things, like how Frisk feels when they smell golden flowers. They can't say if it's the same for skeletons, but it literally can't make things worse.

Sans.

It’s like he can hear it being spoken by several voices at once, across time and space, as lurking memories approach the surface. He recognizes the smell, but for a moment he isn’t really sure how. It reminds him of Tori – the Tori he knew here – the one he’d only started getting to know in person before she was snatched away like so many others. Except, it isn’t just that, is it?

There’s so much more to be remembered, there. Stuff that’s real, and stuff that maybe isn’t – like multiple facets of the same string of events, possibilities that were always there but, for whatever reason, never came to be. He remembers her baking as a constant throughout all of them. He remembers snow and stone doors.

He reaches his hand up to his shoulder and seems to only incidentally bump it into Frisk’s, as if he wasn’t sure what the sensation was coming from at first. He remembers something about that, too, though he can’t quite put it to words, even in his mind.

His right eye has finally started to reform enough that he can see shapes and colors, and he slowly turns his head back towards the two of them like he’s beginning to take in their presence for the first time. He sags onto his back, exposing the damage done to his ribs, and shudders with a sob. He’s never been one to cry about anything, but it comes on now like something inexorable, tears somehow coming from his empty sockets in some kind of realization or grief.

The hazy white light of his eye settles on Papyrus for only a moment before the sound becomes despairing, and he shakes his head slowly. Something is still latching onto him, telling him that he’s not supposed to talk. If he does, they’ll probably just hurt him and gag him again. Yet, he softly babbles the words anyway.

“I couldn’t...”

There's nothing Greg would like more than to go to his friend and comfort him. He'd be just as happy to hold back and let his family care for him. Past that, however, what he needs is to make sure that Sans doesn't get caught again. He can't go back onto that table, or another like it. And the rest of them, too... He can't imagine Frisk or Connie bearing pain like this. The very notion makes him sick.

Lion stands ever vigilant at the door, but Greg seriously doubts they'll get enough warning if Juno or even Blanche decide to warp in. They have to move while the chance is there.

"Guys..." He speaks softly, but there's an urgency in it. His voice is raspy, both from the magical and emotional drain from watching Sans like this. "We gotta get him out of here. Right now."

Edited 2016-04-26 18:13 (UTC)

What is Sans trying to say? He's obviously still upset, and... trying to apologize? But what for? Because he couldn't leave? Because he couldn't remember? All this time he's been trapped in this place, and before that he was kidnapped and 'brainwashed,' and generally without the ability to get out and do his own thing. For once, Sans has genuinely good (if awful) reasons for not doing things.

"I know you couldn't remember! That's not your fault, I promise," Papyrus reassures him, then looks over at Greg. "He's still very... fragile. A little frighteningly so?"

But Greg's probably right. If they stay here, what if the scientists captured everybody? They're not playing fair at all, they'd probably put them all in torture chairs! So there's nothing for it.

"Nyeh... I'm sure everything will work out okay!" Papyrus clasps his brother's shoulder. "Sans! Can you stand yet? Or should I carry you?"

Sans looks in Greg’s direction when he speaks, his pupil sharpening with recognition. Greg is there, holy shit. For this entire time, Sans hasn’t known what happened to his friend – whether or not his reckless attempts got Greg taken away too. It took this long to get through to him, but it’s becoming more and more clear. Greg came to get him out.

He feels a sharp pulse of something in his chest, like a heartbeat.

He shifts like he wants to get up, but he obviously can’t. His right knee is visibly broken, and though it’s hard to tell with the lack of ligaments, it isn’t hanging off of his thigh bone right. He looks up at Papyrus and Frisk helplessly, only half comprehending the situation but understanding that they have to get out now.

“I can’t...” He closes his eyes, a fresh bead of tears going down a cheek bone. “Fuck.”

It's painful to look at Sans' knee, or the tears trickling out of his eyesockets. Painful... but a relief, too. Finally, he's finally responding to them. He's injured, and some things are still terrible, but Sans is in there. Looking like himself and talking. That's so much better than things were this time yesterday.

"It's not a disaster or anything! Here, I'll carry you," and Papyrus crouches down to get his arms under Sans'. "Almost like going home from Grillby's, some nights! ...You might not remember that yet. But you will!"

There's still the question of how they're going to stay on Lion's back like this. It was hard enough with four people, and Greg powering those vines as seatbelts around everyone. But now that Greg's exhausted himself, and Papyrus' hands are full... They'll make it work. Somehow. They have to.

Sans is, as ever, incredibly easy to lift. Small and without flesh to weigh him down, it's more the caution required to keep him in one piece at this point that makes carrying him difficult than anything else. Even with Papyrus's careful handling he flinches when he's moved. There's no way to avoid causing him pain at this point, but one can affect how much of it.

Grillby's is actually familiar, now that Papyrus mentions it, but his thoughts are still too scattered to make much sense of the idea. Right now Sans's attention is mostly caught between two things: being sort of baffled by who is holding him, and pointedly noting Greg's presence.

"Greg..." he mumbles once he is off the floor and in Papyrus's arms, his lone functioning eye still settling on his friend hazily. "You made it."

Sans is talking, moving, responding... it's all with unbearable pain, but it's something. That's all Greg can possibly hope for, right now. His friend may not be whole, but he's here.

For a time, Greg had been sure that Sans would blame him and maybe even hate him for getting him caught. The aid of the ghosts had eased some of that fear and self-loathing from the incident, yet Greg still wouldn't be surprised nor blame Sans if his fears turned out founded.

Then come those tired and pained words from his broken friend. They're at once unbearably painful and indescribably relieving. Greg takes a second to blink very hard a few times. "Yeah."

In better circumstances this would be when Greg would hug the skeleton, were he not hurting so bad. For now he has to satisfy himself with carefully holding one hand dangling out of Papyrus' grip. "Sorry I took so long to get you."

Did someone want their day ruined? Because it's about to be.

Juno had been intending on coming down for a regular check up all day, but the particular text conversation she'd been having with the techs inspired her to get on it in a particularly timely matter. Her patience for this situation is running out. Everything has been radically set back by this fool's actions, and Juno is going to be most disappointed if she can't work out a way to make up for Edward's lost time.

Even if it means pushing that creature to its death, she is fully intent on wringing every last bit of use out of it to make up for the damage it had caused. If that means another night at the proverbial rack, so be it.

Of course, when she sees the vines in the hallway she immediately knows that something is off. She doesn't even stop to ask the tangled up techs any questions. She doesn't have to. Her pace swiftly reaches an inhuman speed, fueled by magic, and when she appears in the torture chamber she is almost on top of them near instantaneously.

"No." It's not said in anger, but in a stern and unwavering insistence. This is e-fucking-nough.

Uh, no? Nobody wants that. The entire point of this outing was to un-ruin Sans' day. Incidentally ruining a few scientists' days while they were at it, but, well. Oops.

So the sight of Juno is a little bit of an unwanted shock. Sure, Greg had warned them that they needed to get going. Sure, all the rescuers have heard that the big bads are scary powerful. But that didn't really warn a skeleton that she could practically teleport by walking so quickly.

At least Papyrus finally has a good grip on his brother, for all that Sans is reaching out to the other musician. (They must have become friends in their time together! That's sweet.) It means he can jump back when she appears, get a little closer to the others.

"How about yes?" He offers in retort. They've come this far, they're not going to just stop because some intense and frankly scary lady showed up to tell them no. Especially when they could pile onto Lion and try to run away really quickly.

Sans weakly clasps his fingers around Greg's, staring at him with a disjointed sort of wonder. This gesture is a meaningful one, and something that he would have a lot more uncertainty about were he capable of processing it properly. None of this really seems real, like its all some dream or hallucination he's having while imprisoned.

Juno's arrival more than breaks that illusion. Cold, crushing reality comes down Sans so quickly that he feels like he could die from the shock of it. It's her. The one that pulled his leg off. The one who he knows was responsible for so much of what he suffered in blind silence.

He instantly draws the conclusion that he has two options: either he needs to be somewhere else, or he needs to die quickly. He can't go back to this. He can't. He can't.

His hand breaks free from Greg's as Papyrus retreats back to the group. That loss of constancy is all it takes for Sans to lose his hold on his surroundings. He wills himself to be gone - anywhere, anywhere but here - and his mind latches onto the last thing he thought of as a safe place.

Sans and Papyrus vanish into a shortcut, the only sound Sans's brutalized sob of terror.

...well, you know what, that is perfectly acceptable.

Frisk turns quickly, just in time to see Sans and Papyrus vanish into thin air, but that's the end of their reactions. If anything, they're glad Sans had enough magic left to do that. They're going to have to go find them, but anywhere has got to be safer than here.

They scoop up the remainder of their pie, shove it away again, and then press back into Lion's mane. "Out. Now." An old sense of frustration is welling up at the sight of Juno; they want to hurt her, to make her stop looking at them like that, and that means that they don't want to be here anymore. Even if they couldn't possibly kill her, they've learned to be wary of that feeling.

Oh crap oh crap oh crap

By the time Greg's looked back, Sans has already vanished with his brother. The panic lasts several heartbeats more, but when he sees no evidence of them getting pulled out of warp space again, he allows himself to breathe--just a little. That doesn't save the fact that he and two very young, very heroic rescuers have the escape blocked by a terrifying mage.

Greg's completely out of juice, magically speaking, but Blanche doesn't want him dead yet. He puts himself between Juno and the kids--not because he thinks he can stop her, but because it can buy Lion precious seconds to get Connie and Frisk away.

"Juno, stop this!"

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'Cause I'm Lonely and I'm Blue

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