Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your shoulder bag weighs heavy on your travel-worn body. This trip hadn't been your longest walk to date but was still no trip to the market. Speaking of which, you were hungry. Luckily, you noticed your destination was close. You shambled along the rest of the road. Two men spotted you near the entrance of the village.

"I'm a peaceful traveler, just looking to rest my head and maybe provide some services," you called out to them.

The two looked at you and then each other. The left one nodded and waved you forward. You took the offer. This village was said to be very pretty around this time of year. At least, it was when your grandmother had seen it last. Now, the path was dusty, and the grass crunched the closer you got to the village. The area around the village seemed alright by comparison. Odd.

"Services, you say?" asks the man on the right. You mentally dubbed him as 'blondie.'

"yes, I know a little about everything and some more concerning others," you told him.

left dude, who will be 'shortie' in your head appraised you thoughtfully. "You reckon it's worth a shot?" he asks blondie.

You cock your head to the left a little, but keep yourself still. Best not to put them on guard. Blondie hmms and shrugs, "why not, ask old Andrea," he says.

Old Andrea, eh? Perhaps they needed help with a sick horse or festival prep. Couldn't be anything too bad.

It was bad.

Blondie and shortie escorted you to a modest hut near the back of the village. It seems that something was causing the resident's distress. You noted that there weren't many people outside, even though there were plenty of huts and houses. Off hunting? Even then, there should be something going on here! Things were not adding up to your grandmother's descriptions. She was no liar. Something had happened here, and recently. Your grandmother may be old, but she was well-traveled and took care of herself. She taught you most of everything you know.

Old Andrea was weary and obviously one of the wise women of the village. The last one, in fact. She informed you of how sickly the village was, yet the illness skipped around as it wished. There was no rhyme to who is afflicted. She said that one person would die a night, silent and sometimes with no warning. However, she noted that none of the help they beseeched was ever touched by the plague. Every doctor, wise woman, or shaman in the area had been called. They all failed.

You knew that you were no expert nor a doctor. Performing such a miracle was beyond your skillset. Yet, these people clearly had nothing to lose. Andrea had even proposed a meal and resting place in exchange for your attempt. There was no denying that offers usefulness. Naturally, you agreed to try. Old Andrea comprehended where you stood in that regard.

You began by unloading some of your baggage that was not necessary. Next, you scrubbed up in the local river. Best to avoid well water, in case this was man's sickness. The state of the forest told you differently. Mushrooms you had never seen before stood rotten near the village's borders. The deeper you went, the better the health of the foliage. The river ran clear and swept away the grit from your flesh.

Healthy looking branches stood tall over you. It was a sight to behold. Soft grass prickled your flesh as you put on your clothes. The dirt was fertile, and you could spot a buck across the riverbank. It was a majestic deer with winding antlers. You smiled at the gentle picture it painted. It was a reprieve from the almost stifling atmosphere of the village.

You returned after that. The grass progressively dried out as you walked. There were no bird calls, either. Andrea spotted you entering and waved you over.

"Here, child, let me show you the sick," she said. You nodded and followed her when she began to walk. There was an oddness to her gait, but you did not comment on it.

"No matter what we do, we cannot heal our sick. The river water treats them as if it were from a bog. Our dirt has provided no yield, and transferring from that in the forest has no effect. Only one person dies a night, and those in contact with the ill do not contract it readily. We have done testing but cannot ascertain any poisonous cause," Andrea explains. You nod and hum when it seems appropriate.

Andrea stops walking in front of a house. It's built with sunbleached wood and has dirt on every surface. The window is dusty and smeared with a substance that looks like crusted animal fat. Your lip unconsciously curls at the sight. Someone was trying to ward off something.

Your guide opens the door without preamble. The two of you step in. A little girl peeks her head around a corner.

"Grannie! are you here to fix my mama?" asks the little girl. She rushes up to the two of you. Her hair is lank, and dirt coats her feet. You note the drab state of the house. If the house looks like this, and the girl's mother is sick...

Your heart drops. Andrea pats the child's hair and gifts her a hard piece of bread from within the folds of her cloak. Must have hidden pockets. The girl eats quickly, but tears fill her eyes when she grips onto her arms. "Mama stopped eatin', and I thought her heart stopped beatin' last night," she says.

Andrea nods, a sad look in her eye. "Bring us to her," she says.
The little girl looks at you curiously but does as she was asked. Her 'mama' was laid out under numerous quilts, blankets, and scraps of cloth. The woman's face was sunken, her face pallid, and her lips were almost white. She looked like a ghost.

"- on, We'll watch over her while you wash up," Andrea says. You blink and look up at the other two in the room. The little girl solemnly heads out of the room. Presumably to wash up.

Andrea frowns at the sleeping woman. The bedridden woman is hardly breathing. It's as if the air is struggling to enter and exit her lungs. Andrea presses her hand to the woman's forehead, then her throat. She hisses a sigh.

"This woman may die tonight. No matter how much warmth we provide the ill, they freeze," she says.

They freeze? You ask her about the numerous things they've tried. She recounts the village had built a large bonfire and resting the ill next to it. Someone still died. Broths, cloths, herbs, and rituals did nothing.

You inspect the woman for yourself. Everything is checked from her toes to her head. This illness was like nothing you had seen before, nor heard of before. Your grandmother's teachings and notes did nothing to help. Except for one vital piece of information. This was no illness of humanity. Someone, or something, has cursed the peoples of this village. The extreme blackness of the woman's veins proved this to you. No outside help did anything, and strangers went unscathed. Only one died per night.

With a sharp glance, you turned to Andrea. "Who cursed your people?" you ask her. Her eyes bore into you now.

"What do you know of such things?" she says.

Your eyes rest on hers, unwaveringly, "enough."

Andrea ends up confessing that the illness started after a hunting party returned with some sort of fanciful object. The village leader was gleeful and kept the item sequestered away in his home. She did not know the exact nature of the object, but it held some sway over the leader. He now allowed no entrance to his home. Those who pressed him about it were treated unkindly. His attitude had shifted sharply.

"Well, in the meantime, it is approaching dark, and we must be off to my home. I will uphold my offer to you. I won't force you to stay tomorrow, but I hope you will aid us, someway." Andrea says.

You answered dismissively and followed her. Best not to let on to your thoughts as of now. You see the little girl stare at you from her window. It makes her figure look disfigured and even more pitiful.

The meal Andrea had prepared for you was well enough to eat. It reminded you of how you longed to eat fruit again. Veal was enough for now, though. Discussion between you and the older woman was little. She left you to your own devices and retired early in her room. You slept in her storeroom. At least, that's what she thought you were doing.

Slipping away in the dead of night was easy enough. The woman's floors didn't creak as you had expected. You could hear her snores from the door. Cautiously, you made your way around the village by edging near the forest. You close your eyes and focused internally. Breathe in, and breathe out, breathe in and- There! Your eyes shot open, and you traveled as fast as possible to what called your attention.

The house was much livelier than the others but emanated something that put you on edge. 'Avarice' is what came to mind. The leader's house, no doubt. It was central and the biggest house. You could spy an empty flask near the door. Drunken ramblings echoed through the distance between the homes. The leader was absent for tonight, it seemed.

It was best to make haste before he arrived home and could fly into a rage. You quickly stepped inside and adjusted to the slightly better lighting. Okay, magical artifact.

The dumb bastard had left it in plain sight. It was obviously knocked over as well as a chair and chest. You took your shawl from your waist and wrapped it around the artifact. It shone like a polished ruby. Yet, you wouldn't risk becoming cursed by touching it with bare hands. Your grandmother taught you better than that.

It was still dark out when you left the house. The wind nipped at your face, and your waist missed its previous extra layer. You circled back to Andrea's house. The white buck from earlier stood at the forest edge. You stopped a few feet from him. The two of you stood there, looking at each other for a long minute. Time stretched on.

"I want to give this back to its rightful owner," you say.

The buck flicks an ear in your direction. Your eyes trail across the forest. It's hard to distinguish what is what. Looking at the buck again, you limply wave at it before continuing on your path. He does not move until you are gone from view.

Sneaking back to Andrea's designated area for your rest does not take much longer. In that dark and small room, you keep the artifact wrapped up firmly. Humanity could be tempted by the strangest things. You would not be next. It was almost time to end this affliction.

Sleep did not come easily to you that night. The artifact bothered you. What creature would have a curse on such an object? It must be a part of a horde. Although, if it belonged to a dragon, wouldn't they just burn the village down to get it? Perhaps not a dragon, then. Something else, a creature similar enough to have a protected object but not as furious as a dragon. Ironically, serpentine creatures are not known for lying. Dragons keep their word and speak with meaning. You would be fortunate to find anything draconic that was missing the artifact.

If you focused on it, you could hear the cracking of branches, stones being slithered across, and a waterfall. You shot up from your resting position. Waterfall, slithering, and wood? Something with scales, near a waterfall in the forest, then. You silently sent thanks to your grandmother and lay down to finally rest. It was odd that you heard such a thing, but you attested it to her teachings.

In the morning, you make sure all of your items are secured in your pack and satchel. The artifact winds up in the bottom of your satchel. If worst came to worst, you could slide your backpack off and dash for it. Your knives are secured in all their spots. Hopefully, no one would miss the artifact until you were long gone.

When you exit the room, you see Andrea stirring a pot over a fire. Her face is grim. "A child died last night," she says.

Your eyes widen minutely. Regret for not beginning your quest last night crawls up your spine. Although, it would have been foolish to enter the forest at such a time. You sit down near the pot.

"It was the little girl we visited yesterday. She died while fetching her mother water from the well," Andrea says. Mixed emotions swirl in your gut. She would not have been found for a while if she had died at home. It was clear that few had visited her.

"I will write you a recipe for a potential cure," You say.

Andrea grimaces but nods. The two of you eat in silence. Once done, you write the instructions and go over them with her. It was merely a complicated stomach ache cure. Andrea seemed none the wiser.
You thanked her for the hospitality and left afterward. She did nothing to stop you.

Once in the forest, you fetched a dousing rod and a loadstone from the bag on your hip. You navigate steadily. The items lead you away from the area with the river. Moss starts to accumulate along the route. You're snapped out of your focus by a stick snapping.

Turning quickly, you spot the buck, once again. You huff and press a hand to your chest. "You startled me, friend."

The buck approaches slowly. You remain still in an effort not to scare him off. He nudges the hand over your heart. Silently, you rub the creature's elegant forehead.

"Hello, there, I don't suppose you know where to find the waterfall?" You ask. The deer turns his head to the right, and you move your hand to avoid it being wacked by his majestic antlers. He starts to walk, and you feel compelled to follow.

The deer leads you deeper into the forest. You spot toadstools you didn't recognize and birds with vibrant colors. The two of you spend many moments traveling through the underbrush. Eventually, you can hear rushing water.

"The waterfall!" you cry as you spot it. You're in a large clearing, with a clear waterfall running into an impressive body of water. The deer affectionately nudges your face with his. You rub your fingers over his forehead in exchange. The buck turns away from you and heads back from where you came.

"Thank you, friend, be safe!" you call out to him. The buck doesn't look back at you, but you still feel warm. You turn to look in front of you once more. The lake has large rocks near its edges. You approach one that catches your attention. A puff of air leaves you when you spot it, a scale.

Definitely draconic, then, your mind provides. You grapple with your bag to reach one of your books. As you flip through its pages, you sit down on the rock. Silently, you skim.

The scale does not match the pictures drawn of those of a dragon. That confirmed your thoughts from last night. It was unlikely to be a basilisk. Warm and wet? Check. The issue was the artifact, and the scale you found didn't match your records. No, a basilisk was unlikely in this region. You continued like this for some time.

That only left one creature you could think of, a lamia. The issue was, you knew little about them. Your grandmother did not teach about them like she did other serpents. Perhaps they didn't settle near your hometown? Even then, she was well-traveled, so she must have met one or two, right?

Unease pooled in your stomach. Regardless, you had to get the artifact to its owner. The plight of the villagers wouldn't stop if you didn't. Even if something happened to you, at least you would have done something. Besides, a creature wouldn't kill without reason. You were just intimidated by the lack of information and experience. Having met a dragon would come in handy, hopefully.

A blue dragon named Azazel would visit your grandmother at least every spring. She never explained that tale, but you had learned to leave it alone. If your grandmother wanted something a secret, she would hold it against her chest until the very end.

You repack your things and leave the scale where you found it. Taking it would send a message you didn't want to send. You had no need for potions ingredients. Taking it without express permission would not end well for you in the case of a dragon. This could very well apply here.

After a moment of brief hesitation, you begin to walk. You spot an area of the forest floor that is smooth and has little foliage. It's a path carved by something large. As you walk it, you can see a tree cast to the side. It was ripped out, and you could see its roots. Odd. You notice more trees in a similar state. A man would have simply cut the tree and dug up its trunk. The lamia must have done this.

The path ends shortly after, and you can see another, smaller clearing. There is a large stone in the middle of it that stretches towards the sun. Good for sunbathing, you muse. Behind it is a cave carved out of a mountain. You don't remember seeing a mountain from the village, or even by the river. It was too large not to have been seen. Something was afoot. This mountain was hidden for a reason.

You observe the area some more. It would be rude to inspect the cave if it was the lamia's home. So, it would be best to simply wait. Wait you did, for many minutes. You feared the creature was asleep, dead, or otherwise occupied. If it grew too dark, you'd have to make a fire. Thankfully, the elegant buck returned.

"Prince, nice to see you again," you say, then remember yourself, "Ah, I hope you mind the nickname."

He seemed unbothered. Prince gallivanted over to your side and began to eat grass. You agreed that it was time for lunch. Luckily, you had packed some provisions from the last town you visited. They had rewarded you for stories and news. That town didn't get many travelers.

You soon noted that it might get dark before you make any more progress. The lamia hasn't shown itself, and you cannot risk going back to the village. Hopefully, this area was as guarded as you suspected, and the leader would not find you here.

Having decided you would rest here, you start to search for firewood. You find wood suitable and then begin to set your bags down. Prince watched you the entire time. Finally, you sat down to rest. There were enough wood and rocks for a decent fire. You stretched your muscles as you prepared to wait. A little nap couldn't hurt, right? Prince would wake you if he stayed and was startled by something. A temperature drop would wake you with shivers. It's not like the village would kill you on-site, either. With this, you drifted to sleep thinking of your grandmother and Azazel.

Chapter Text

You wake with a start. Prince is at your side, head raised, and his ears flicking. Your hands work instantly. Twigs are tossed into the fire, and you pat your side to make sure your bags are in place. You stand. Branches start breaking. You can hear the approach of something bigger than you.

The lamia (you presume) is close. You can hear hissing from the path you took. It's getting louder. Shit, you don't have night vision. The lamia is going to see you before you see them.

"Kid, I told you not to visit at night,"

You stiffen when the lamias approach stops. Both of you are silent for a moment. This, you were not prepared for. Shit, you should have climbed a tree.

"Who are ya, and how did 'cha manage to come here?!" the lamia roars. It's a masculine voice. Raspy and deep. What a curious accent. This is probably the part where you should try to avoid dying.

"I'm a traveler, and I'm looking for a creature missing a cursed item. I-I think a villager nearby had stolen it," you say. Nerves litter your bones and make your heart thump.

"Ordinary humans can't come here without help, so who sent 'cha?" he(?) asks. You can't see the figure from your spot.

"I mean, it's only been me, and Prince," You say.

The lamia snorts. "You mean the buck?" A huff leaves your mouth before you can stop it. Naming people and creatures isn't THAT weird. Your mother didn't particularly like that habit of yours.

"Yeah, Prince, anyways, are you missing a big ruby?" you ask. The figure gets closer. A skeletal face looms over your fire. His pupils? eyelights? are trained on your face. You can barely spot a ribcage and the red of his tail. The pattern most likely fits that of the scale you left by the waterfall.

"Yer weird, no screamin'? Where's the cross you people seem fond of these days?" he asks. You eye him as he speaks. Hostile actions seem to be off the table for now.

"My grandmother taught me a lot of things. Unless there are some other draconic species in this area, the ruby must be yours." You state. The lamia grunts and your eyes detect some movement behind the fire. A tail flick, maybe?

" 's mine, but that doesn' explain why yer in my territory," he says.

You shift a bit to make yourself more comfortable against Prince. "Other than my knowledge of non-human creatures, I have no idea."

The lamia hisses a little and looks at you appraisingly. "Follow me ta my cave. I won't hurt 'cha. I know how sensitive yer kind can be to the elements," he says. He doesn't want you sneaking off. That much is clear. No matter, it was unlikely he'd harm you without reason.

"Alright, sure," you say. The lamia slithers around your fire and watches as you pack your things. Prince bumps his head against your hand gently. You pet him before standing fully to follow the lamia. The fire would not spread and would likely die out soon.

You have to push past the foliage covering the entrance. Surprise warps your face as you look around. Red wildflowers grow from cracks and corners. The cave is surprisingly warm compared to the outside. Stalagmites have been long broken off if they were present before. Tapestries hang from bones wedged in the rock walls. Pelts are layered across the floor. You unconsciously take off your shoes and set them near the entrance. Markings of various colors decorate the walls. You assume your host made them.

"Sit, les' chat." the lamia says. He's seated at a flat rock placed on the floor. You fold your legs under you as you sit. It's like you're a child sitting at the adult table. Reaching the surface of the rock isn't impossible, but it is slightly awkward. You decide to just fold your hands in your lap.

"First off, name is sans, but 'cha can jus' call me red, kiddo" 'Sans' says. You nod.

"____, and I'm not a child," You say. He chuckles.

"Sure, anyways, you mentioned somethin' of mine?" He asks. You nod again. Maybe you should start doing something else instead of nodding. The artifact is still in your bag, thankfully. You place it on the table-rock.

"Yep, tha's it, went missin' from my hoard a bit ago. Figured I lost the damn thing. How did you know it was mine? or is this some sorta plot to get me in yer debt?" He presses. You can see the tip of his tail flicking behind him. His tail is coiled.

"No! the village south of here is suffering an odd plague, and I knew it was a curse. A woman there told me of some object the leader acquired after a hunting trip. It matched up with the arrival of the sickness," you say. Sans hisses lowly as if humming. You continue. "I snuck into his home and found it. It had a magical aura that was hard for me to miss, y'know."

Sans' fingertips click idly on the rock table. He's looking at the ruby as if it was an annoying dog that was just returned to him.

"Yeah, heard rumors that these things curse people that steal em, didn' know that bullshit was real," he says.

You blink. "You didn't know?"

"Nope, I've heard a lot of things concernin' these bastards, and it's hard to believe," Sans says. Wow, okay.

"Well, how I got here was kinda weird. I met Prince last night, and when I laid down to rest, I could hear things coming from the stone," you told him.

His eyelights snap to meet your gaze. Sans presses forward, fingers digging into the table. "What things?"

You furrow your eyebrows. Did this dude not know how his own rock fucking worked?

"Wouldn't you know? It's your rock." His eyesockets squint at you as if he's tearing through your head for lies.

"No," he grits out.

"I heard a waterfall, branches cracking, and the sound of a snake slithering over rocks. Why?"

His upper body, the skeletal part, leans back to his side of the table-rock. "Huh, shit," he curses.

"What? Am I gonna die or something?" you ask him.

His skeletal hands press on his forehead in defeat. "No, but I am. 'm never goin' ta stop hearin' this from Boss."

"I'm confused," you admit. Sans slides his hands down his face. He crosses his arms on the table.

"You're my potential mate, buddy, the very first one I've ever fucking had."

What? The? fuck?

"Huh?" you ask. He sighs, "Someone in your family fucked a lizard, kid, and now you're paying the piper."

"The fuck are you talking about? Nothing against creature kind but my mother, grandmother, and I are very human." You tell him. Sans rubs his phalanges across each other. Nervous tic?

A stone had dropped in your gut. Something was telling you to look into this. Plus, it was unlikely lamias could deliberately lie in the human tongue, much like dragons. Unless he was just confused or misinformed.

"You smell a little bit a snake. Like ya cuddled up to one long enough for tha scent to rub off on ya. Besides, only those wit snake in their veins can hear shit from my hoardstone. A human doin' so ain't possible. Hell, ya don' believe me? We can send ya good ol' grandmotha' a letter." he says. A bit of frustration seasons his voice as he speaks. It's like he's explaining addition to a grown-up.

You snort. "And how would we send a letter? The village has no post, and I can't return there anyways."

Sans grins, "I know a guy."

That guy turned out to be a Pheonix. A mother fucking Pheonix. Of course, why not. You and sans had debated on what to write to your grandmother for quite some time. 'Did you fuck a lizard?' was too blunt in your opinion. Besides, his handwriting was worse than yours. The letter consisted of you asking your mother for information about lamias and why you smelled like one.

You still think you're human, but doubts creep in. The small oddities about yourself become more apparent. Your tongue was longer than those of the other children in your home village. Even your teeth seemed a bit longer and sharper by comparison. As a child, the comments about that were just a joke. Now? You weren't sure.

You watch the sky as the Pheonix disappears. Now, you wait for the reply. You hear sans slither up next to you. "Ya migh' wanna sleep in my den tonight. If yer as human as ya say then there's a chance that otha' humans can wander around my territory now," he warns. You hum as you mull it over.
"Sure, fuck it." He laughs.

You ended up on a pallet of furs and pelts. It was cozy. He slept across the den. You settled closer to the front. The fire pit laid between the two of you. Its flames beat away potential frost as you slept. Rest came easily.

Sans wakes before you do. When you blink your eyes open, he's stoking the dying fire in the pit. You sit up and rub your eyes until they clear.

" 'morning," he rumbles.

You figure he heard you get up, considering his back is to you. Speaking of, this was your first time noticing it. His bones didn't look like any you had seen. They were thicker than the ones you'd seen your grandmother scrying with. His shoulder blades slid seamlessly as he worked the fire. You caught yourself admiring his visage and averted your eyes. Nope, not right now.

"Goodmorning," you reply. Sans slithers towards a back wall of the cave and grabs a bone spear. It's sharp and well made, you muse.
" Don' wander far, I'll be back wit' food," he says. Then, he leaves the cave. You watch the graceful swishing of his tail. Looks like you're staying here for a while.

You sniff your clothes mindlessly. Not too bad, but you should wash up. The bag doesn't have much left in terms of provisions. Time for a stock up, then. You leave the cave after putting your shoes back on. It's beautiful outside. The birds are singing, flowers are blooming. And people like you should really find something to do. Gathering some more firewood and plants sounds good. Then, you can wash up after having exerted yourself. Plus, you get to observe more of the surrounding wildlife. With this in mind, you head out.

Turns out there are some berries and various other plants nearby. You find cattails, blueberries, golden flowers, and hazelnuts. They May not make the tastiest meal, but they're edible. That's what's important, after all. You walk back towards the lake. It's a good thing you marked the trees you passed. There's good firewood near the edge of the forest. You cart your finds back to the lake. The blueberries are placed into a wooden bowl you carry. They're set aside after being washed off. Next, you gently rinse the other fruits of your labor. All of the gathered materials are left on a decently flat rock to dry. Now you can grab the wood. You head back to the forest to search. The firewood is soon collected, and you place it in the firepit.

Finally, you can bathe. The day was warm enough for you to make a sweat during your work. Besides, the lake was pretty. You'd be a fool to miss the opportunity. The village you hailed from didn't have such a scenic area. You could get used to this, you think.

It's nice in the lake. You take this opportunity to wash your hair and your shawl as well. You're just about to get out when you hear something heavy moving through the forest. Sans. He's approaching the clearing, where you're at. Shit, gotta think. You turn your back to where you hear him approaching and wrap your damp shawl around your waist.

"Don't look!" you say. Sans stops, you think. The noises his tail made when moving stopped.
" I- uh- Uhm- I'll just...." he trails off, and then you swore you heard his tail whap against the ground. He shoots away so quickly it shook the ground. Oops. You redress and pack up the things you had gathered earlier. You fill your canteen, and the damp shawl is carried in your hands back towards the cave. Sans is skinning a wild boar when you enter. Your shawl lays on a tree branch to dry. You sit across from him and watch. He works deftly. It's hard not to admire how practiced he is. Sans' hands made be reminiscent of human bones but, you can't help but think that he is infinitely more alive than those in a Cemetary. Hallowed ground be damned.

"Sorry about that earlier, probably should have waited till you came back," you apologize. You think you had probably disgusted him earlier. The human body was not always other species' cup of tea, after all.
" 's fine," he mumbles, "no sign a' that bird, by the way."

He glances up at you, and you nod. "It's a bit of a distance, can't blame the poor thing."
While he continues to work on the boar, you decide to prepare your finds. When in doubt, grind it out is your grandmother's method. Bearing this in mind, you mash the blueberries and golden flowers together in a bowl. You ask sans for a pot and prepare the rest of your unorthodox meal. The two of you work in silence. It's a bit tense. Your thoughts wander back to what he had told you the previous night. Potential mate, huh? The fuck even is that exactly? Sure, you could guess, but it would be best to get information from the source.

"Hey, sans?" he looks up at you, brow bone hitched slightly in askance. You avoid looking at his gore streaked limbs. "What exactly is a potential mate, or whatever?" he grumbles a little and returns to looking at the mangled boar.

" 's like, someone you're compatible wit, in clans some lamias c'n have multiple. Thing is, yer not convinced about 'cha status as a hybrid, and I've neva had a mate before."
"Never?" you ask.
He nods, "Never."
"Wow, do you have to only uh 'court' potential mates? Is that a rule or something?"
He looks at you like he's about to tell you that that the sun rises in the east, but his expression loses its frustration.

"Forgot humans don' work like us. Pretty much, though. Messin' around with anyone else don' work," he grabs the end of his tale and shakes it lightly, " 's like cuttin' a fish wit yer tail." You hum as you absorb that information.

"So it's not an obligation? How do you tell if someone's lying about hearing anything from the stone?" You ask. Sans stokes the fire with a bone, and it crackles faintly.
" 's not an obligation, but I'd be stupid ta let the chance slip by," he says. "Ther's a way ta tell, do ya wanna try?"

"Fuck it, sure."

Chapter Text

Sans wraps up his work on the boar. You shovel down your food as fast as is barely acceptable. It's passable as food, at least. Sans must have cleaned his hands at some point, as they're clean when he slithers up to the table. He places the ruby hoardstone onto its surface. You slide your bowl and spoon over, finished. You'd wash it after what you're about to do.

"Aight," he says, "yer gon hang onta tha stone. Imma go somewhere, and when I come back, lemme know watcha heard."

You raise an eyebrow at the lamia. "Aren't you worried I'll run off while you play cans on a string?" He smothers a laugh with a cough.

"Nah. You came all this way n all. Dontcha wanna hear from grams?"

He's right. You're entirely too curious to leave. Why go anywhere else? Sans seems like an alright monster, plus that letter you're waiting on. It would be cool to see Prince again, too. The thought of leaving doesn't appeal to you.

The last time you got this invested in a place you stayed for two weeks. You were tempted to move in, but eventually, another destination drew your attention. It helped that you witnessed mage discrimination at that place. No thanks, town. This could be different, but you'd hold out and see what happens. Your grandma always said that dealing with monsters is more pleasant than doing so with most humans. You're inclined to believe her. Sans could have easily sliced and diced you, but he didn't.

Your grandma had settled down some in her life. She started making longer trips when your mother matured, stopped when your mother got pregnant, and started again when you were old enough to talk. She'd come back like spring, bearing gifts, hope, and inspiration. Your grandma showed you life outside of your dusty village as much as she could, with stories and information on the creatures she met along the wall. Meeting Azazel had been a fantastic and awe-inspiring moment for you. You were five, and your mom had a cow over it.

You'd planned on going back to see your grandma after seeing the (now no longer plagued) village. It's been a while since you've had even talked with your mom, but you think that's for the best. She's doing better on her own, you think.

"Yeah," you say with a slight smile and noncommittal shrug. "This place is pretty cool. Company isn't so bad either." Sans gives you a suspicious look, but you can see the smile fighting its way on his skull. His tail thumps. You wonder why it does that.

"Yer alright, fer an almost human."

"Sure, wise guy. Shouldn't you be searching for a bard or something right now?" Sans snorts and shrugs your words off.

"Bard? Not n these parts a tha woods. Seeya in a bit." You watch him slither out. For a moment, you feel a bit lost and alone. It passes after a few moments. When you think he's had enough time to distance himself, you carefully lean in towards the hoardstone.

You aren't stealing it if you touch it, are you? Would this rock hurt a 'potential mate?' You decide not to tempt fate. It worked just fine the night you stole it from the village. The cave is silent aside from the low crackling of the flames and the occasional faint birdsong. The foliage in front of the cave is good at blocking most of the outer sounds out, as well as trapping heat in.

The stone does nothing when you stare at it. In the almost silence stretching out, you cycle through errant thoughts. You almost miss the first sound. It manages to snap you out of your reverie. Unconsciously, you lean towards it. There's a sound of something sliding before you hear a loud crack. Did he snap a twig close to his ear or something?

"Testin', testin'. We got any mostly humans listenin' in tonight? I'd expect n answer, but I know I won't get one. Too bad this thing ain't two ways, eh?"

You snort. Sans is a total dork, even with slitted pupils and sharp teeth. A real jokester, if you've ever seen one. Would it be so terrible to stay awhile? He seems like he'd be a cool friend, with or without this hoardstone stuff. Maybe you'd get to bond with creatures like you always wanted to do since you could read your grandmother's journal copies. This greater area may not discriminate against monsters at large, but understanding their lives would be super cool to do personally. The public doesn't have much information on monsters that aren't in the cities.

Sans starts telling knock-knock jokes to himself (and by association, you.) The sounds cut silent after a few minutes, minus the shambling of a large monster. You think he hits himself or something at one point based on a sharp "damn!" he mutters under his breath. The hoardstone becomes almost silent, save for the low sound of Sans' scales. You don't notice the birdsongs outside had stopped until now.

While waiting on Sans, you admire the hoardstone. It is a beautiful rock, smoothed by a method unknown to you. Had it been touched so much its edges led way to curves? How does a lamia even get a hoardstone? Do they just pick one and imbue it with magic? That makes sense, but how did Sans not know how it fully worked if he did that? You think back to your childhood. You used to stuff pretty rocks in your pockets. It irritated your mother when you did that. Funny, in retrospect, that you had a trait that's similar to draconic habits. You wonder how long Sans has had his hoardstone or been alive, for that matter.

Without Sans or any other distraction, your mind wanders to your grandma. There's no way your mother knows about this. She has an aversion to monsters and anything magical. Unless that stems from laying with a monster, but that doesn't make any sense either! There's no way your dad could have been a monster, and you came out so human-looking. It's a laughable thought. Now, your grandma, on the other hand, totally could have smashed uglies with someone not entirely human or not human at all. You'd believe it.

Your grandmother never liked to talk about your grandfather at all. Your mother less so. At least your mother told you the tale of your father and let it die. Grandmother had barely started the conversation, to begin with, but if your grandfather was not entirely human, then why is your mother so human-looking? There's nothing about her that even suggests anything other than human. If your grandfather was only a little bit monster, then that makes a bit more sense. Would that be enough for the hoardstone? How is a potential mate even really determined, other than magic?

The foliage in front of the cave moves to the side. Sans' cranium peaks through, followed by the rest of him. You hadn't heard him reach the cave at all.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey, comedian," you greet back with a smile and think about the jokes he'd told earlier.

"Found some stuff while I was out," Sans says, emphasized by him slithering over to the table. You look up, and he's holding a rock. Not fully knowing rock lore, you have no idea what it's called. All you know is that it's a pretty shade of red, lighter than Sans' hoardstone.

"What's that?" you ask. Sans hisses in a snake version of a hum. You struggle for a moment at how cute it sounded.

"Whaddya hear from the rock?" He's avoiding your question, but you'll let it slide for now.

"Testing testing, something about the stone not being two-way and a bunch of jokes. Pretty sure I heard you stub your tail or something too. You good?"

Sans looks awed. His slitted eyelights look bigger and almost touch the top and bottom of his sockets. You watch him formulate his thoughts like a movie. Sans' eyelights move to you, the hoardstone, and then back to you again.

"Wow," he breathes, "yer sure ain't no mage, so I know yer not pullin' my leg. For real this time." So he had doubts, but they'd just been quelled. Your neck twinges and you realize you've been looking up at Sans for a while.

Still looking stunned, Sans slumps down across from you. He places one hand over his mouth with his phalanges fanned out. The other slides down to roll the hoardstone over. His eyelights bore into you. That red tail of his is coiled and backlit by the fire. You'll need to get more firewood here shortly. Sans looks good in the firelight, even if it's dying. There's something vulnerable in the way he looks at you.

His hand scoots forward, enough for his distal phalanges to press against your hand. His hands are cold, but you don't retract. This moment feels emotionally raw. It's what you can only compare to meeting a biological parent for the first time might feel like. You may not know each other well personally, but something is connecting you.

"Holy shit," Sans breathes. You're not quite understanding what's going on, but you can inference that this potential mate business is validified now.

"What?" you ask curiously. Sans looks like he's thinking about something in detail.

"Imma have ta introduce you ta someone. Several someones. How's about it?"

You ponder this for barely a moment. "Sure, who do you have in mind?" He looks at a place on the wall beside you, likely thinking about those he wants you to meet.

"There's a village near here, 's got some nice folks. M' bro lives 'round here too." That sounds vaguely familiar, but your gut instinct says nothing to dissuade you.

"Alrighty," you concede. "Do we mention the stone, or?" You trail off, unsure. Sans' phalanges press against your fingertips a bit more firmly. You don't draw your hand away, almost entranced with the texture of his bones.

"I wanna tell 'em, been waitin' on you a while 'n all." You nod. Sure, okay, why not? You still have questions, though.

"How long?" you ask.

Sans glances away. "my whole life," he says.

You frown. That could be any sort of number. You don't know the lamia lifecycle. "How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

Sans murmurs to himself, likely counting. "Bout seventy years." He sees your expression and rushes to explain, his hands flying up. "'m still young for a lamia, though! Not like an old geezer or anything!"

You laugh. It shakes your shoulders. Sans slumps in relief, and his right hand inches towards yours again. Feeling flattered and something like affection, you reach for his hand with your own. Sans entwines your fingers, looking nervous. "I'd love to meet everyone, seriously. Maybe we should get to know each other better in the meantime, yeah? Feels like I'll be here a while."

Sans mumbles something that you can't discern. "Hmm?" you prompt. He shrugs.

"Nothin', you said somethin' bout bonding, right?" You don't answer, and he continues. "Les go do somethin'."

"What do you have in mind?"

"How da ya like nature?" he asks.

"A bunch. Depends on nature sometimes. Poison ivy isn't fun."

Sans slithers up to a standing position, bringing you up with him via your connected hands. His other one rises to steady you. "I know a place."

You both leave the cave. It's hard to match your pace, but you don't think either of you wants to stop holding hands. It's as if you might be too shy to hold hands again if you let go, like this thing between you is fragile and precious. Your reach an area of the forest where there's a bunch of roots and rocks. After you trip the third time, Sans grumbles and comes to a stop.

"get on, but not a word to m' bro."

"Huh?" you ask. Sans huffs, avoiding eye contact, and jacks a thumb to his tail.

"Hop on ta the snake express. Can't stand ta see you stumble like a filly." You take the interaction as is, with Sans trying to be helpful in his own way.

"Is that safe for you? I'm heavy." Sans cackles. It's open-mouthed and looks good on him. He takes care of his pearly white fangs.

"Imma be fine, darlin' jus be careful gettin' on n off." The endearment throws you off, but you do want to see this place. It's likely to be beautiful, based on what you've seen of the forest behind the barrier. Awkwardly, you climb onto his tail. The top scales aren't as hard as you thought they'd be. He's warm, likely from the sun? Are lamias even ectotherms? Questions for later.

"Might be better if you scoot up n hang on there." You follow his guidance and realize that in this position, you could wrap yourself around his skeletal half. His hands reach backward, wordlessly you put yours in them. Sans guides your hands to wrap securely around his shoulders. The position isn't uncomfortable, even though keeping your feet to the sides of his tail takes effort. His scales are sturdy enough to keep you from slipping.

"comfy?"

"Yeah," you say. Sans hum-hisses and starts moving.

While being on his back, you can feel his tail muscles moving underneath you. Sans is an impressive monster. You wonder if the texture on the bottom of his tail is rougher than his top scales. Are there lamias that aren't skeletal? The researcher in you itches, but you don't want to make Sans feel like a case study. He's his own fascinating and funny being, monster or not.

You can't find it in yourself to be upset about how attached you've become to the lamia. Sans says nothing as you move along the forest. You admire his red tail and warm bones. Yeah, you like Sans. He's a cool guy.