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Chapter Text

Wingdings ran as fast as he could, not daring to look back. His feet pattered on the cold ground and his clothes were soggy from the puddles he kicked up. Mud and grime was everywhere but that didn't stop him; The ground was practically flying past him with only the splashes of puddles hinting to his presence. He could hear the fish yelling all the way into the cave. Echos could carry so incredibly far yet still sound clear as crystals with its emptiness that he couldn't accurately tell how close he was to losing his company. He didn't want to find out. Wingdings really didn't. He didn't want to deal with another chip from his HP on top of everything else at stakes by this one run.

His home -if you can even call it that- wasn't far. Approximate only two rooms away. He skipped and hopped over any obstacle that came, blue echo flowers and magic puddles shimmering away into a near past. He could hear growls and shouts of anger from behind him, not even the slightest bit tired. He wasn't going to make it. His legs could give out on him at any second and his magic was too low for him to even guard the goods were he to get caught. He couldn't collapse now, he couldn't at any time. He had to keep running. He had to ignore the impossibly loud ache in his knees had and the painful friction that presented itself every time he met hard ground.

The bag in his hands was hindering his run quite a bit. It jangled in front of his legs and was so heavy that it brought his weight closer to the ground. Books, clothes, snacks... the essentials were packed inside, it wasn't like the had stolen anything particularly worth it! Why was the fish giving such a chase now?! They were probably the cheapest things he could find in the house!

Up ahead Wingdings spotted some weeds. Lush and tall with lighting dark enough to hide just about anything.

The perfect cover.

There was just enough that when Wingdings dived straight in, it was quite the effort to find him afterwords. He could hear grumbling somewhere to his left and a nerve racking shuffle. The fish monster started roughly combing the patch, somehow missing Wingdings each time they rounded. He didn't dare conceive the thought of moving an inch; especially when the other stopped moving.

Shuffle. Shuffle.

Now, he was mere inches away. He could see the fishes heavy tail with enough detail to see scales. Wingdings stilled his breath and closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. He counted his breath in and out, soft in and sharp out. His vision was going blurry from the sudden change and the adrenaline was slowly dwindling out of his body leaving him with an even more intense ache in his knees and Cotten like hearing. His vision had started to black out and he had to use the bag to steady himself from swaying into the protective plants.

He wasn't gonna get caught, he wasn't gonna get caught, he chanted to himself. He slowly started losing hope as the fish was getting more accurate in his search.

Then there was a pregnant pause before the fish turned almost directly to him; Summoning magic and stabbing the area right next to Wingdings. A sharp screech permeated the air and Wingdings was shaking uncontrollably.

Inches.

The tiny little inches had saved him. Then the harmful and intent magic summoned was lifted from its throne in the ground. He could hear the failed grumbles of the fish only feet away from him. Finally the rustle of bushes before it was silent. Nothing but the distant water drops carried by echos filled the mute space. Wingdings couldn't believe his luck. He thought for sure that his life would've been at the mercy of the one fish who absolutely hated him.

Wingdings decided to bask in the relief of life much longer than needed. Slowly relaxing his bones and finally letting some sort of comfort into his tense bones.

He knew that when he got up his head would Cotten up and his vision would black out. Thought brief he knew he wouldn't like it. Taking it slow, Wingdings put his hands on his knees and slowly guided himself to standing. He made it all the way to just leaning forward till, true to prediction, his eyes went out and a wash of dizziness over threw his balance. He didn't have time to even grab his bag of goodies before he fell to his knees when he herd a loud pop under him. Some sort of pocket of water must've been there because suddenly his pants were soaking along with the bag. The water was gross and slimy and tinted his clothes some dead blue color. He really wanted to be mad about his clothes. He really did, but something far more important took his thoughts.

The bag.

Hastily, Wingdings grabbed the bag from the puddling water hoping to all stars that it was salvageable. The damage had already been done however, brown stains covered the bottom half and the water had seeped through with its strange blue tint. With a mourning look, Wingdings opened the bag... to find that the paper in the books had practically absorbed all the water. The text was smeared beyond comprehension and the food turned soggy. Wingdings couldn't even be sure if it was edible anymore considering how many unknown substances were plentiful in these waters. The clothes were stained, their previous quality having been shattered with the off color water.

Wingdings grumbled in annoyance. All that work had fetched him nothing? Nothing but mush of paper and waste. Luck had struck him bad with this deal, his bones were shivering from both rage and the cold breeze that filtered through the weeds. Seems Snowdins 'winter' was starting to filter into Waterfall too. Dear stars know he won't be able to gather enough energy for another run quickly enough before the cold hit full blow. How was he going to keep his brothers even healthy? A question truly for the intelligent much unlike Wingdings. Maybe he could score some one in a million dry blanket from that dumpster that was somehow big enough to keep them all warm. What wishful thinking. The ones he had now were turning crusty and losing the sterile charm they had before. Even putting the bagged items in the Hotlands couldn't save them. Magic residue from the water had crawled into its fibers making it impossible to get the moist feeling out of it. They were useless now.

Standing up even slower than before still gave Wingdings a lightheaded feeling. He still managed to stay up in a miraculous feat. He grabbed the bag but only with the hope that something was saved and lobbed himself back, where his cave was. He didn't bother hiding himself like usual, it was the time when people generally slept so it wasn't like any wonderers were going to catch sight of a frail skeleton carrying a suspicious sack of stuff.

Wingdings backtracked for a while. He hadn't realized how far he had passed the home cave till he saw a blues glow from the rooms ahead. One of the paths he'd taken had some sort of stream. It's was blue and tinted with a little bit of purple that glowed in the murky dark of the cavern. Wingdings decided he might as well stop to gather some water to distill later. Making a dense cup shape made entirely out of bones, he cuffed it in his hands and squinted his eyes, his concentration withered from going home to keeping the container there in existence. He scooped up some of the water from the stream. It was a mute blue but the liquid magic seemed clear enough to clean. He didn't want to return home empty handed after all.

He continued his trek back home with the added weight of keeping his magic together. At some points he had managed to turn the wrong direction from having to divided his thoughts so thoroughly. His mind grew hazy with added exhaust as well, his back slouching and curling as if it obeyed the movements the bag he also carried. He finally made it to the maze that his brother, Papyrus, had ever so meticulously crafted. Every time Wingdings left their home he would have to walk through this maze, and every time he applauded his brothers control and stamina. Still up after what must have been months for him. Years to everyone else.

Wingdings couldn't do that. Hardly. When he finished the maze he walked an invisible path to a wall then stopped, looking at it with distaste. What looked like a wall. His eyes flickered purple and he waved a hand briefly and weakly towards it. It broke extremely easily, almost too easy for Wingdings to be satisfied with its creation. When he stepped through and over the phantom line his mind put for construction he waved his hand once again. This time the wall rebuilt itself, its was frail however, thin and unstable with hairline cracks dotting the surface. Seems Wingdings' magic reserve was falling low. He'd have to find some way to replenish it. The barrier would still do its job in the mean time, maybe the speed of time might hiccup but it would likely keep things out one way or another. And in.

Walking forward he noticed the floor was softer than usual. And shimmering. Strange. He braved it anyway. Hoping to ignore the few times he actually slid an inch or two. His steps got wobblier as he continued on. The floor taking a heavier drawing of his ragged shoes the further he got, imprints falling closer and closer to actual inverted models of ripped and ragged boots. Now he was worried he wouldn't make it to the crack in the wall up ahead. It was much dryer than outside but the outside didn't normally pronounce its sanctuary much like it did. Wingdings wanted to get inside quick, he tried running closer but thought better when his foot was practically engulfed in the strange mud. He took another step only for the same thing to happen. Of all the things to happen the most ridiculous one would be his downfall. Spectacular.

He was quickly losing patience. He's willing to go barefoot, hell, he'd even wear those way-too-small pants if it meant he could still have something salvageable when he got out. He just stopped caring, just trudging through with no thought but to keep the sack of goods safe. The farther he got though the more he regretted it, especially at the point when he was mid-femur into the substance. He couldn't even feel solid ground anymore!

Now he warranted himself to panic. Desperately looking for something to get him out. Finding nothing he did the only thing he could do. Move forward.

Whatever semblance of solid ground he had before was quickly gone. He was full on swimming when he took that step. A small part of his brain made sure that the magic cup was still corporal but it was starting to leak. It's fell awkwardly in his eye sockets and did nothing to calm him in his hysterics to keep the bag as dry as possible. He was kicking at the 'mud' and breathing hard. His legs were starting to give out and he was tempted to swallow his pride and call for help.

Moments - maybe minutes later, did Wingdings think it was a lost cause. He was struggling with just staying above ground and ended up just letting the bag sink, the only thing occupying his hands was the newly half full cup in his left hand which he somehow kept solid.
"Hel--"

He gave in and failed at even that.

The items were completely submerged, he whined out from under the mud. Even more work left for naught. He was about to paddle back up to the surface when a strange TING curdled in his ears and a force pulled him up and out of the mud. He couldn't see for a multitude of seconds, mud having spilled and packed his skull till it his magic gave in and let it blind him till it poured out. Globs of mud sloped down his jaw in the most unsettling way possible as more of his body was lifted out. Somehow, by some barely there miracle, the magic cup had stayed above the mud and stable enough to still hold some of the magic liquid. He grabbed it and curled his hands almost worship like around the cup and solidified it. He took his time to look around  and spotted Sans half way out of the crack in the wall just ahead, arm stretched out towards the other and a look of concentration scratched on his face. Wingdings opted not to say anything till his feet were firm on the ground for fear that his concentration might be broken.

"You could've done that ckr-earlier." Wingdings choked out.

"Could I have? Maybe, maybe not. The world may never know." Whimsical sarcasm was Sans' route of speech. He slowly flopped himself so both of his legs were out of the crack crack before, in a painstakingly slow fashion, he brought himself to the ground.

"How rude! I'll have you know: that bag could've had plenty of things to grab and you just left it and watched."

"Oh please, we both know you just wanted me to save your skin faster." Came Sans' laughter filled response.

Puns. Sans was now throwing puns.
Wingdings really couldn't be mad at him. The whole charade was mostly pointless. It wasn't like skeletons needed air to breathe and the bag probably really didn't have anything useful anymore.

He only grumbled before he said "what's with the water anyway? It's all mushy and spongy."

Sans only responded with laughter before pointing to the cup Wingdings had filled with magic water.

"You spilled your water?!"

"Yup, Tem came an' tripped me while I was out drinking some of the weird magic infused water. Did you know that it spreads unbelievably far?" He said almost as if he didn't know that before.

Wingdings could only give him a look of distain, eye sockets narrowing and jaw tightening. Unbelievable. Unbelievable! He's just lobbing that water around as if it were normal water. How irresponsible! What if he ruined more clothes like that? Stars know Wingdings doesn't want to make another run anytime soon. Not that his brothers knew how dangerous his runs are...

Wingdings couldn't fault Sans, even if he wanted to. Ignorance is safety and Sans was none the wiser. Wingdings would probably just make another trip outside, hopefully a short one too. Minutes to him might sometimes seem like hours to them so he'd prefer to extend the twilight time between runs were he'd go and resupply their little ragtag home world before it got too long. Still the giant water puddle was going to be a pain to deal with later on. He was going to have to find a way to get rid of that too.

Jeez, he had a lot on his plate.

And the Temm- oh right.

"Hey, you think you can do some things while I'm out next time?"

"Like what? My schedules full so imma' have to squeeze whatever you got in between some none existent space in time." He pulled out a sheet of paper from his inventory, it was the closest thing the brothers could get to an accurate calendar with times and numbers. The one Sans had was scribed with columns for each date and time with everything fill with 'sleep'. How... productive.

Wingdings lifted a hand to lower the written calendar so that he could make eye contact with Sans again in order to get his point across. A sharp glare didn't make Sans stand down for a second with his ridiculousness and only further disappointed Wingdings.

"There's been a ridiculous amount of Tems lately. Think you could help out?"

"With Tems? Ha! Me an the Paps have been tryin' to get ridda' them for a while now."

Quite the disheartening response Wingdings got. He simply lost hope to eradicate the things.

"Well anyways, is Paps even awake? It's pretty late." He gestured to the crack with the thumb of his free hand.

"No, he's knocked out. Told me to give ya something though, you were kinda out for a long time." Sans turned and headed back to the crack in the wall before returning only moments later with a letter, his movement fluid from the constant practice of moving in and out of the crack.

When he opened it curiously he found a paper, mangled and hand pressed from its original pulp and slightly grey from the old ink not properly cleaned out. It was rough around the edges - literally - but had a certain charm when Wingdings read what it said:

DEAR DINGS,

SORRY IM PROBABLY NOT AWAKE TO GREET YOU AGAIN, HOPE YOUR TRIP OUT WAS NICE. YOU PROBABLY ALREADY MET WITH THE NASTY PUDDLE IN FRONT OF THE BARRIER. SANS DID THAT IF HE BLAMED IT ON ME IN THE END. I TRIED TO TELL HIM IT WAS A BAD IDEA TO WALK AROUND WILLY NILLY WITH THE WATER BUT OF COURSE HE NEVER LISTENS. I DID MOST OF THE CHORES IF YOU WERE WONDERING TOO. SANS WAS BEING A LAZY BONES AND WAS WORKING ON A CALENDAR TO SHOW OFF. I THINK I SAW THE BEGINNINGS OF "SLEEP" ON IT SO BE WARNED. I'LL FILL YOU IN MORE IN THE MORNING. OR WHEN I AM AWAKE. GOOD NIGHT THOUGH, SWEET DREAMS.

THE GOOD BROTHER, PAPYRUS.

Sans looked distantly at the letter with a hint of adoring in his eyes, "How the hell am I related to that cinnamon roll?"

Wingdings chuckled, "You talk like you've have twenty years under your belt.", he poked Sans.

Sans punched him lightly back, "You talk like the parent..."

...

"Heh..."

He was...

Chapter Text

Wingdings wanted to prolong another trip really badly. Not because he was blind to their obvious need to gain and consume resources but because he didn't want to. Not of selfish reasons. He hoped they weren't selfish. Except the problem with that was his brothers started complaining and he had to scrap up just about every excuse he had to avoid their ridicule and postpone the act longer. 'My magic's too low', 'the stuff isn't gonna be there', 'the dump is starting to dry out' and more that venture further into ridiculousness. He knew it wasn't logical but he just didn't want to go out. At some point he ended up breaking under his brothers constant reminders and venturing out in to the chilly water with every ounce of strength channeled in order to bring up the protective barrier again behind him.

His magic truly was low but in Sans and Papyrus' eyes, he didn't need it. In their eyes, he went to the dump and panhandled all their needs into their little pocket of home within the world. Wingdings didn't want them to know he stole anyways so it made sense when they questioned why he'd need it guessing from his excuses. Wingdings knew he was a terrible lier and couldn't get his stories straight if it meant life or death... which meant he'd have to act as if he didn't steal and as if he didn't expend a surplus of magic on every trip he did to the outside.

A firm five days had passed since the last run to the rest of the Underground and it had done well for his weak knees and raw-rubbed joints. He was doing far better than before and that at least quelled his ever present nerves as he trudged forward into the mud. It was closer to morning so the probability of monsters roaming about were far more likely than before as well. A bad choice on his part but it wasn't like he could wait out another day with those poor excuses to his brothers. He at least wouldn't be too bothered by it, what with most monsters in Waterfall sleeping the majority of their lives away partnered with how boring of a place it is.

Every time Wingdings took a step, it was coupled with a loud echo-y splash. Obnoxious and extremely irritating. After years of terrain scavenging he still couldn't find a solution to this extremely detrimental and endangering problem. Noise meant curiosity and curiosity meant getting caught. It was a risk he didn't like when doing what he often did.

Wingdings knew that the garbage dump that he had tried ever so meticulously keep secret had been found out as well so there was no point in trying to harvest whatever could have possibly been there. The barrier he had set up there had long disintegrated with his now fully realized magic deficiency and made it public to others who scavenged for free items. He figured if he explored some of the houses along the more populated areas of Waterfall, then he might find something of use or even just a place that was easy to enter. One that would be substitute for the lost dump and just as simple to take from.

Wingdings came to a small splattering of houses, each made with the incredible architecture that, only at the command of those with magic over water and mud, could only be from Waterfall. All of the buildings had an originality to them that was only made a possibility through magic. Magic he didn't - nor couldn't, have. Wingdings slinked and dashed between them, hands feeling the incredibly smooth walls and intricate designs as he passed. They were all either made after the monsters image or their personality, features of whatever they chose morphed slightly to complete the complexion. One was shaped into a star etched with paint so colorful while another looked like a clam, plain and simple.

Out of all the choices he had, Wingdings chose the turtle. He hadn't seen the home there a week before but that probably meant the barrier had been working at the time they moved in. That also meant that the supposed turtle had no encounters with him beforehand so Wingdings considered that a plus compared to his other options.

He crouched down low and strafed under the window, tacked to look like the turtles eye, in order to hide his presence. His feet still pattered in loud steps but looking through the actual window showed his target nowhere to be seen.

One of the legs of the house was sunken deep into the ground which stuck out to him, deep enough for Wingdings to attempt to climb over and onto the shell of the large turtle-shaped house. The monster inside must've had an intricate control over their magic because the texture of the house was so smooth that Wingdings would've slid right off if it weren't for the grooves carved for decoration. As Wingdings suspected, there was a trapdoor at the highest altitude of the house, far away from the ground and placed on its back. It wasn't uncommon for monsters in Waterfall to want to 'stargaze' and that proved true with this one.

The trapdoor was more than wide enough for Wingdings to slip in, wide enough for even the King to fit in easily. From where he was standing he found the floor to be barren, almost clean except for the mandatory couch and table that looked too polished to be in use and looked to be there because they had barely unpacked. Boxes littered the corners of the home. He couldn't see where the rooms had been placed in the house or where he might go for his needs but left it up to when he actually got onto the ground.

Luckily for him, the opening was unlocked and it allowed him easy passage inside, the only problem being how far the floor was from the ceiling. From the looks of it, not that far. Wingdings turned himself away from the trapdoor, shakily moving as to not to slip, before slowly lowering himself inside, hands trying to find any sort of grip on the smooth outer walls that held to his bony hands. He thought he had found a spot that had been scrapped rough by the panel closing the trapdoor but soon found it was just as smooth as the rest. Just as he lowered himself to his elbows his grip slipped and in a flash of panic, he loudly clawed for someone to hold onto only for his entire body to slip into the home with only the rough edge of the opening being his salvation.

Wingdings considered himself to be about average height, at least compared to his brothers but when his legs dangled from the ceiling and even when the length of his arms helped aid him, his feet didn't even close to the ground. From the outside, the house looked like it could've been two - maybe three stories high but, as it turns out, only one story had been installed. Wingdings' panic was renewed after the brief calm that came with not falling. Now he had no REAL way down. He could use his magic but that would mean he'd have to scrape whatever reserves he had and his energy. Which was going into keeping himself from falling.

Wingdings devised a plan. One that was probably more dangerous  than needed but would save his magic and probably would send him into a panic attack before he could even enact it.

Slowly, painstakingly slow, he let his hands slip off of their tiny grip, every once in a while renewing it in fear.

He didn't expect gravity to take place so quickly, by the time his hands slid off an inch, he was gone. Floor coming closer and nothing to stop it. Wingdings acted quickly, though not without the crippling hesitance of fear blocking his way. His eyes glowed purple and his hands moved to his chest as he fell. He tried to click his magic into working and to get ready but it didn't. He was quick to panic.

His falling seemed slow. Almost as if he wasn't but he knew that was only his fear changing the way he saw his doom. Click. Click. Click.

It wasn't working.

He was getting frantic, scrambling mid air for what seemed like minutes. His hands willing to latch onto anything. Unfortunately the trapdoor had been place right center of the house and so meant he couldn't even scrape the walls for safety.

Click. Click.

One story left.

Click. Click. Click.

No magic.

Click click click click.

Feet.

CLICK.

Then nothing.

His magic had sparked. Barely a second before he hit the floor. His body only off the ground by a foot and hands out, ready to catch him. He was shocked, he really thought he'd die, or at least alert the person who lived here. He only had a second of calm before his magic suddenly dropped out and he was left sprawled on the floor with a thump. His chest heaved as the last drop of magic he had was gone. He was hoping to have at least enough to freeze an opponent but it seemed not even that was manageable. Wingdings groaned and got to his feet, limps stiffening and aching with the sudden loss of magic in proportion to his reserves. He needed to get something to eat quick before his body threatened to collapse fully on him.

He was able to turn his neck, but only enough to catch a disturbance without actually moving his vertebrae. Looking around wasn't easy, he had to turn his entire body to do that with how low he was on magic. He could feel the lights in his eyes flicker every once in a while and a few joints randomly going limp. He stumbled even when turning left, and  more so when he spotted the kitchen and moved forward.

The kitchen was small and would've had a full and high quality set of pans if they weren't scattered on the floor ever so recklessly. Wingdings groaned in annoyance, the ache he felt becoming more apparent. He tried to dance around the pots and pans through the narrow area but his knee went limp just as he set it forward to catch him. He ended up missing his mark by a few inches, his shoe contacting a stray ladle that loudly clanged with the tiled floor. He tried not to flinch but he still cautiously limp-turned to check if anyone had herd. He knew it was irrational, if the house was anything to go by, the monster who occupied it was a turtle and thus  would mean it would take a while for them to come near. Wingdings still didn't want to take the chance.

He continued on his journey, walking extra slow to make sure he didn't make the mistake of creating more noise to attract the home dwellers.

Eventually he made it, a relieved sigh making it's ways out of his breath before he weakly lifted a hand to open the fridge. The noise that that had made was even louder and more obtrusive than any noise Wingdings had made beforehand. The fridge seemed to be rusty and had looked to be newly plucked from the dumps. It didn't last long and Wingdings couldn't hear anyone moving about so he decided it best to pull it open quickly and keep the shrill noise from prolonging itself. There was a short yet sharp squeak that Wingdings was glad he got over with. Now the food was his.

There wasn't much inside, juice, milk, fish, and leftovers. Wingdings opted for the closest thing he could grab, the juice.

He didn't know what kind of juice it was - he didn't bother to look - but it worked well to raise his magic levels to the point where he could easily move another soul and himself. With his bones now easily in his control, he grabbed one of the largest pots on the floor and put just about all he could into it. Once he had all he needed, he placed the pot back into the refrigerator to keep it as fresh as he possibly could before taking it with him. Had to savor even the seconds of edible foods.

With new strength from the long missed rejuvenation, he moved on to other priorities that come upon his list of needs.

A blanket. A heavy one preferably.

The home was small horizontally surprisingly. It seemed the legs of the turtle from the outside were decorative. Strangely enough, when he looked for a bedroom, he found its room hanging over on the ceiling. It was simply a box with a latter leading up to it. No wonder they monster couldn't hear his ruckus. Such an odd architectural choice too.

Wingdings continued on, looking around the home for any article of cloth or clothing that he get his hands on. For all the mess in the kitchen he couldn't seem to find anything. He walked and paced carefully around the house and checked every logical place before looking haphazardly in obscene areas in desperation. At some point he had gone to the fridge to the grab the food in case he would have to run out. He had barely anything to come back home with and it was getting dangerously close to the time of awakening.

He checked under the couch pillows and inside drawers among other things for just something useful! He grumbled and searched frantically. He had formally placed great care into keeping the persons house orderly, placing objects he had previously searched down exactly where and how he had found them, but then his haste grew and he found himself turning over full objects and reasoning with himself that once he found something that he would fix them right back up again.

He didn't.

He didn't want to do a lot of things, stealing on the top of the list. He didn't want to go out and take things from monsters who had never even seen his face, reluctant to even glance at victims to quell his immense guilt. He didn't want to go out and come back with a feast of stolen goods in order to live. He didn't know who this turtle was. All he knew was that his brothers needed to live and the very monster who's house he's in barely had what they needed to last long. He promised himself that once he found even a shirt to take back that he would--

"Hey! What the heck ya doin'?!"

Chapter Text

"Hey! What the heck ya doin'?!"

Wingdings' nerves instantly shot up exponentially. Without turning to look, he dashed as quickly as he could to the door. He instantly regretted not putting things back where he found them because they then served as karmic obstacles attacking his feet. He could hear the pot in his hands cling and rattle with every movement he made, dodging scattered pillows and vases he had left hazardously on the floor.

"Stop!" They yelled, but Wingdings didn't want to listen, he simply kept dancing his way around the floor till he neared the front door.

Ting.

Something yanked him back and he choked on the suddenness of it. He couldn't get caught! He struggled and jerked in the invisible force. The grip on his soul becoming stronger as his frustrated panic grew. He needed to get back! He couldn't get caught now. The pot he had was slowly slipping out of his hands as he focused more on just moving. Wingdings crouched down closer to the floor, almost scratching the ground to move. He herd the suppressed grunting of the monster holding his soul down and it only encouraged him even more to get out.

"G-Gerson!" They yelled, magic slowly slipping on Wingdings.

Any energy Wingdings got from the juice was easily swept out of him when the prolonged struggle on his part continued. He stopped trying to move out of their grip before his magic completely dropped out. His breathing was ragged and he had been so close to having a panic attack. Thoughts raced into his mind as to what his situation meant and he knew he had to do something. He performed the risky move of attacking his pursuer.

He turned sparked his magic, scraping at his magic reserves to the point where anymore could make the magic holding his arm together could fall. He sent a volley of what must have been ten bones, thrown sloppily in a general direction.
His shot hit, six of them missing. He wished more had missed too. He regretted his actions.

It was a girl, a fish monster. A child.

He was being held by a child.

He felt his sins crawling on his back.

He had attacked a child. A small innocent being.

What if that was one of his brothers? He had attacked someone who could very well have family that cares dearly for them!

She gripped her wound, a spark of anger and determination lighting her eyes before she suddenly turned.

"Undyne! What's going on?"

Wingdings snapped his focus onto the new monster. The monster rushed to the girls side, looking her over before turning a side glance to Wingdings. He was an elderly turtle, shell dusty and beard like white wisps of air. Wingdings searched between the two standing before him. The child wasn't letting up on their magic even joined with a wound and with the elder here, he doubted he could put up any type of escape. He halted his struggle to a full, eye lights downcast and knees folding from exertion. His body felt cold from all the magic loss, only amplified by the fact he almost caused harm to any type of new life. Children were rare and sacred and to even slap them was a shame befitted for all responsible. He couldn't fight back anymore, he didn't have the right. His breathing became uneven.

"The skeleton were tryin' to steal our stuff! Look at what he did." The girl- Undyne gestured to the floor, looking trashed beyond belief before moving back to clutch her wounds.

The turtle looked around the room as if he had first seen it, eyes wide almost comically then he centered his gaze to Wingdings again, a scaly hand raising towards him.

"Dyne, why don't ye drop your magic." She looked at him confused before slowly obeying.

The turtles magic took over, a small difference opposed to the child's. Instead of the freezing almost natural grip Undyne had, Gerson's magic was like a cage. Similar in prospect but different in property. Wingdings felt claustrophobic with this magic veiled.

He turned to Undyne, "Go an' call ye Uncle, have em pick this one up." His voice turned cold when he mentioned Wingdings.

Undyne scurried away, climbing up the latter to the rooms while Gerson and Wingdings stayed down. The room instantly felt cold. He hoped it was his magic failing and not the others killing him.

Gerson turned to the couch behind him. Grunting each step of the way in sync with his foot fall. When he sat he allowed the couch to squeak and whine under his weight, the springs giving out instantly to the pressure. Once fully rested, he turned to Wingdings and his soul froze. The cage becoming tighter by the second.

"Yanno lad, I don't take all that kindly to yer kind." He could hear Undyne upstairs shuffling. "Yer stealing and attackin' ain't helpin' all that much either." He punctuated the attacking part with a moment steel grip and glared something nasty.

"Now speak up. Why yer here in the first place?" He said sharply.

Wingdings didn't answer.

"Well...?" It was almost like he was trying his hardest to be pleasant.

Wingdings said nothing.

Gerson responded the same for a cold moment before slapping his knee in a somehow sarcastic manner and then laughing.

"Whahaha! Of course. I'll leave ya to it till Basfin gets 'ere." Wingdings was confused.

It didn't take long for Undyne to come sliding down the latter afterwards, looking suspiciously at Wingdings before trotting to Gerson.

"Bas said he'll be here soon." She said, her voice suddenly seeming scratchy. Perhaps Wingdings didn't notice before but she sounded much older than she looked.

Gerson nodded before telling Undyne to fetch some band-aids while he kept the 'menace' in check. As she sprinted off again Gerson made sure to he knew his anger. Tensing his magic every five or so seconds making Wingdings flinch along. Undyne came back and only then did he let up on his grip. bandaging her arms and even her cheek with a white cloth that looked like it was just sterilized from being in the dump. Wingdings was at least assured that he hadn't done anything serious.

The door was slammed open suddenly, a fish emerging tired and hurried like he'd ran the whole way here.

"The hell happen?!" He yelled and everyone in the room jumped. Wingdings more so as he recognized his voice. He couldn't breathe.

It was the same fish that had chased him only days prior. Long fish tail and maroon scales spotting his skin and scars that stretched for feet. Now that he had a closer look he look scary. He looked mad even more so.

Basfin looked around almost frantically, face stern and sculpted harshly to where it looked like daggers made up his face. His gaze settled on Undyne getting bandaged and his face softened like clay before landing on Wingdings. He instantly reacted, stomping towards him with a horrifying determination in his eyes.

"You!"

Wingdings tried to scramble back, feet scraping and pushing on the floor but not with any effect as Gerson's grip was still firm and impenetrable, leaving him to simply struggle against invisible binds. Basfin only got closer as Wingdings felt the eerie air of anger come off of him. It was a split second before The fish sprung at Wingdings, the grip on his soul loosening but a new one curling on his neck.

"Now your here to terrorize my family?!"

Shit.

Wingdings struggled frantically, feet kicking to find something that could save him and hands trying desperately to claw at the wrist by his jaw. He wasn't choking -he was probably doing that to himself- but he could feel the pressure on his vertebrae inching closer to a fraction.

"You think you can just up and HARM people?!" Wingdings could feel fractures crawling down his neck.

The magic in his eye flared up and he did the first thing he could possibly think of. Attack. He could only procure a single bone but was more than enough to loosen his grip for wingdings for fall to the ground. The bone had shot straight across Basfin's wrist, drawing a sliver of blood and leaving the fish angry and his scales just as red as his blood. He was about to grab Wingdings again when a hand made its way onto his shoulder. A metal hand.

Wingdings didn't notice the clang of armor within the room till that moment and he almost blacked out from the fear itself. Scrambling backwards till his back hit a wall and practically crying from the shock. Two of the Kings' guards.

He didn't know how they got here, he had been sure Basfin was the only one to enter but it appeared he was wrong. How did they even get there so fast? Most guards were stationed within Hotland and couldn't even start to traverse the winding nature of Waterfall. Yet here they were. Now Wingdings knew how serious the situation was getting. His breathing doubled in speed and his eye lights were blinking in and out. He looked desperately for some opening but he was surrounded, the guards on either side of Basfin with Gerson and Undyne closing in. His breaths were becoming shorter and he started to kick the floor again in hopes that the wall behind him would give out. His eyes started flashing purple and rapidly he pushed himself to stand, resolve gathering in his gut hidden and caked with fear.

He didn't know what he was going to do but he knew that he had to get back, he knew he had to escape. If this escalated any further he could end up found out, he could end up dead.

He ran towards Undyne before blacking out.

~~~

Sans was reading one of the many books Wingdings had gotten him. He couldn't actually read half the words but he at least managed to decode what the book was about. It was some human language with symbols completely foreign to him but he figured it was good considering the cover looked nice. Wingdings knew the lettering but said he couldn't quite grasp what it was about so Sans took on the job out of boredom. Papyrus was probably out somewhere tinkering with machinery or something. Apparently their older brother had also given him scraps and manuals for a multitude of projects that Sans was sure he barely even looked at. He could hear the echo of metal clinging and screeching within the cave. It was pretty distracting for Sans but he simply continued on decoding.

His pencil was rather dull and when it wrote it left the most unsatisfying strokes, bold but almost unseeable. The paper was bumpy too so he was having a hard time just writing letters. He wondered where that pen went.

He decided to stay where he was and continued to write with the poor tools, movement meant work and work meant Sans' mortal enemy.

The metal clanging came to a stop.

Sans almost didn't notice, his focus on keeping his writing straight much too strong to really split his attention between anything else but the paper. He continued writing lists and rewriting them in correction and continuing the pattern till he found a pair a skeletal legs right in front of him.

Papyrus spoke uncharacteristically quiet, "Sans?"

He only replied with furrowed brows and a nervous look. Papyrus seemed to be looking everywhere but where his eye lights were.

"Sans, I think something's happened." He fidgeted.

"What somethin'?"

Papyrus paused unsettlingly, he took a deep breath before moving his formerly fiddling hands to his side.

"The barriers down... Dings isn't back."

Sans' eye sockets visibly widened, his permanent grin thinning into a grimace.

Something was really wrong.

~~~

He woke up, head pounding and body incredibly sore. He didn't even need to open his sockets to know something was broken. He didn't bother trying to more either, afraid to find out what exactly was broken. His body felt cold, almost a frosting sort of chill that numbed his body and that was greatly welcomed to his pounding headache. As he breathed in his jaw felt like it were getting stabbed with knives, he tried to minimize the pain but it only ended with him getting light headed and promising a stronger headache.

He finally decided to at least move his hands, he knew there was no point in lying practically dead on the floor. Moving them produced a sharp shrill noise and an almost disgusting pain up his arm. At the least then he knew what was broken. He hesitantly cracked his eyes open, it took what seemed like minutes before he was finally able to fully open his sockets. Everything was blurry and for moments all he could see were blobs. The room he was in was dark, a small source of light hidden somewhere within it casting shadows of the dust in the air that freckled his sight. Even opening his eyes hurt.

Wingdings struggled to adjust his body so that he could see his hands. He was lying on his side on something hard. His body was still too numb to feel what exactly it could be. Mercy became apparent when he was lying on the side that didn't have a broken arm. He found his hands were... cuffed?

They weren't cuffed exactly but they had some sort of magnetic force keeping them within some range of each other. It was the coldest thing to have on his wrists and moving it almost seemed to burn his hands. It was somehow numb too? He couldn't quite understand the trinket.

No matter how much he blinked his eye lights couldn't focus. Everything stayed as blobs and specks in a frustrating way. He was still lying on his side, the numbness having still not receded either. He was able to look to whatever he was lying on. Some sort of cot? It didn't have much give to it so it must be stiff. Wait.

How did he even get there?

He could hear foot steps in the distance, echoing ominously. Almost like stepping on stone?

A blob appeared somewhere near his feet. He couldn't tell who it was but they seemed intimidating. He was helpless. Unmoving.

Scared.

Chapter Text

The blob had been speaking. Soft and almost kind like it tenderly asked for people to calm down automatically coupled with their speech. He couldn't tell what they were saying. The echo of what sounded like stone walls impairing their voice, swelling the room in a fragmented speech. Wingdings had almost wanted to respond in question but his jaw didn't seem to react to his mental prodding. He wanted to ask what was going on, where was he, who were they but gave up in his inability do anything other then watch wearily.

They kept speaking.

He wondered who he was speaking to. Wingdings was sure from someone else's perspective he looked unconscious so why would they bother? Except he notice the monster pausing every once in a while as if someone were speaking. Maybe there was another monster Wingdings hadn't accounted for. Could he not hear them?

Whoever they were, the monster he could see didn't have to yell so the person they were talking to couldn't be far from them, if anything somewhere just feet before them. There didn't really seem to be any foreign echoes down the hall either. It was a strange unsettling feeling that resting inside the back of Wingdings head. Not quite the rational kind either. It was the kind of feeling you got after a nightmare that you couldn't exactly comprehend or when the atmosphere suddenly becomes threatening. Maybe he was just being dumb.

There didn't seem to be anything wrong. Just someone speaking.

Then suddenly he could feel the monster's attention suddenly turn to him, all their words suddenly dribbling away from the walls like drops of water from a cup, creating a choking silence.

There was the loud screech of rusted metal rubbing against metal and thumping steps followed, the noise of chainmail jumping each time. The echo the rusted metal had carried out alone were the most unbearable two seconds he had ever felt in his life and had the urging need to tear off his nonexistent ears. Wingdings became paralyzed almost completely, unknowingly making his body ridged from the sudden attention. He couldn't even blame the cold numbness anymore, he was scared.

The figure said nothing to him, only grabbing his shoulders and sitting him up gently. Even though Wingdings was facing the person, he still couldn't see them clearly. Blobs and shapes they seemed to be made up of. Only as far as the hands on his shoulders he could see which were covered in the gauntlets of the royal guard.

They grabbed his wrists without warning and Wingdings tried his best to jerk away but it ended up turning into a tiny flinch. They tried to ignore it as much as they could and continued their attempts to fiddle with whatever they wanted. Wingdings didn't like their close proximity and irked himself as far away from the other as possible. The action coming less of a reflex and more of protest for not even having the decency to ask nor explain. They easily became annoyed with his actions. "Oi! Stay still. Just trying to help..." they said irritated and continued to fiddle and tap the things wrapped around his wrist.

There was a notable click and suddenly the effect was instantaneous. His body crumbling into something relaxed and the numbness receding with warmth and feeling flooding in where they left. He hadn't realized how tense he was when he couldn't feel anything. The blindness didn't completely go away and neither did the cold. It only became more... bearable to deal with.

He attempted to mutter a 'thank you' but it seemed his jaws were still recovering. It ended up turning into and awkward whine.

They responded unsurprised. Speaking their thoughts freely, "Man, you really must've pissed someone off if the settings were on that high."

Wingdings could finally see somewhat beyond a few inches. His sight readjusting and blurring almost like they were purposely teasing him. The blob seemed to be... earthy. He could make out their face, brown stone cracked and scored with lines that crawled up and down what was visible beyond their armor. Wingdings squinted at them but his eyes just seemed to be failing him.

"You look like you got something in your eye..." they were trying to be humorous, chuckling nervously but realizing they fail must too late.

They closed their eyes as if to calm them self then struggled a breath before saying, "hey, kid? Ima' have to give you a little speech. Kinda protocol but just gonna' say what I'm about to tell was not something that I want nor would've wanted to say." They were crouching in front of Wingdings, attempting to perhaps seem as nonthreatening as possible before standing straight once he gave the affirmative that he had understood.

"As ordered by the Head Royal Guard, Basfin Pisces, you are to remain here until further notice. You will be given a trial for the following crimes...", they turned to grab a paper that had been snagged in their belt, reading off its listings haggardly, "... assault, assault against both a minor and elder, stealing on multiple accounts, withheld information, resist of arrest, and finally, treason." They said ominously, their words echoing painfully in what must be a stone capture.

Wingdings couldn't help but gape at the guard, irrationality turning his gut and anger bubbling within. He tried his best not to try and argue with the guard himself. He knew it wasn't their fault. Though he also knew he hadn't even done half of those things. He couldn't have! Treason?! Withheld information? What proof could they possibly have for something Wingdings had never done? Especially and assault he hadn't even remembered doing. Was there some sort of legal loop hole that allowed for this blasphemy? Really he didn't have any grounds to argue but the idea that he is still left ignorant as to why continued to pick his skull.

The guard took a moment to almost marvel at the list grimly before crumpling it and shoving it into the sleeve of their gauntlet. Taking another breath almost forlornly compared to the first and then spoke in a raw voice. "Until the arrival of your trial, I will be the one to deal with your needs personally and to accommodate your stay in such that you feel comfortable. As of now it is not within my power or your 'budget' to ask for anything that's not already in your room. I do know that these... cuffs", he briefly lifted his hands, "may be impairing a number of your body's functions. I am to inform you that these are Magic Suppressants, meaning that any magic besides the passive will simply be mute. What this means for you is that you body will either have a surplus or deficiency in magic supply and could be incredibly dangerous for a monster whoms form is solely dependent on magic connections. Do not try anything." They warned, then paused again.

"Do you have any questions?" They spoke in finality.

Wingdings didn't know what to say, how to even feel. Was he really in jail? He hadn't even thought it the possibility! It was always a beating and leave or at worst a full blown fight, but never were the guards involved. He thought the family would just chip off his health again and It'd be done or even more likely kill him for his stunt. That while he might be a little closer to death he could at least escape. But now? He was done for. No fighting. No words or say. Just... helpless squabbling to prolong the inevitable. Did he make the best of his situation? The guard did say trial so did that mean he had a chance? What did this--

...

What did this mean for his brothers?

"Hey, you okay kid?"

They -they were out there alone! And it was getting cold and they still didn't have food or water. They didn't have new clothes or, if anything, something to entertain them in the best scenario. What if they were locked staving? "You might wanna calm down kid..." What if someone found them? If they couldn't fend for themselves? What good is the barrier besides keeping out the cold? Keeping out monsters. What if the barrier keeps them trapped before they can get something to survive? Was the barrier still up?!

He prodded his magic for the protective wall and didn't realize what he was doing till it was too late.

The cold numbness spread to the point where it wasn't simply cold anymore. It was the burning searing pain you got when cold became too nice to describe it. The blurriness in his eyes returned even worse than before and his limbs lost all feeling. His body spasmed before falling still and the guard looked almost afraid at the sudden change.

"Ey, you gotta tell what happened. Can you speak? Hey? Kid?! Come on, somethin'!" The elemental was shaking Wingdings as if he were asleep. He probably did look asleep with how fuzzy and obscure his eye lights must look.

Wingdings had only lied still, hoping that the sudden feeling would run away like it had when the guard apparently lowered the settings on the Magic Suppressants. The constant shaking on their end didn't much help though. Sending moment spikes into his soul each time something that should've been painless did quite the opposite.

The spasms stopped after seconds of strange and unnatural pain -if he could even call it that.

The elemental seemed to calm once Wingdings fully relaxed. His body finally going back to the limbo state it was before where he could move but not feel. His breathing was harshened and it took all he had not to cry childishly at how helpless he had become from a couple of enchanted wrist bands. He was frustrated, wanting nothing more than to just get OUT of the situation. The elemental didn't help either. While their voice seemed calm they acted overbearing and it felt like they had selfish intent rather than actually to help Wingdings. It was likely the case considering they had said that they were in-charge of Wingdings well being. It probably meant anything bad happening to him happened to them. He found he really couldn't blame the guard. They seemed like the kind of monster that does selfish things for good reasons.

The guard stood up, their figure towering over Wingdings before stepping back to give him room.

"Please don't try that again. It will do more harm than good..." they paused again. Gaze striking back and forth at what appeared to be the gate they had walked through previous before they crouched back down to Wingdings, like a secret were to be passed.

"Try not to cause any trouble, so far their discussions might venture further against you and for people like us..."

...

"For monsters like us... they're looking for anything ta get rid of us." They said ominously before turning to where they entered then spoke disconnected like they had before in their recited speech, "there is a button that should send a magic signal for me should anything be out of order. You may only use it when you have problems that could be detrimental to your health. Now I shall ask again, do you have any questions?"

Wingdings shook his head sluggishly mix with bewilderment.

"Good" they said, before turning back to the door and letting it screech behind them in closing.

Wingdings was rather unsettled by the rollercoaster feeling the monster the monster brought.

What did they mean by 'monsters like us'...?

~~~

Papyrus had started pacing the room. The shadows elicited by the candles dancing back and forth. He had gripped his elbow and rested his head in his hand midair, sockets furrowed in worry. Sans was more docile than his brother. Opting to read a sentence in a book over and over again till he spaced out distractedly. They were both worried about Wingdings.

He was always serious about keeping the barrier up and wouldn't do anything to take it down unless it were necessary. Something must have happened. This wasn't just some one time thing. Something was either keeping their brother away or he wasn't kidding when he said his magic was low. It almost made Papyrus guilty for sending him away till he felt a chill crawl up his spine. No. He wouldn't blame himself. He probably got caught up in some find. Yeah. He had to go else I'd be too cold to leave later. Maybe it just seemed like it was taking longer than usual because the barrier was down. There was probably something on some garbage hill Wingdings had to use his magic for...

"Paps, calm down. It's probably some fluke. He probably fell asleep and his magic is just goin' on auto pilot or something." Sans grumbled from his book.

Papyrus paused in his pacing, before turning to Sans sheepishly, "I don't know Sans, it just seems like something so... out of character for Dings. You know he'll keep something in reserve for the barrier."

"Ye, but I also know he's ditzy sometimes. Probably hasn't even realize the barriers down..." Sans was trying to get him to calm but Papyrus wouldn't stop pacing.

"Come on Paps, yanno I'm right, he'll be back in no time and we'll be here ta bug 'em about what happened. Sit down or go mess around with those toys your always butchering." That immediately caught his attention, his form relaxing a little bit.

"They're not toys, and I don't butcher them." Papyrus said sternly. Sans only grinned.

"Really? Coulda had me fooled."

"Sans! I've told you so many times. They're not toys!"

Sans rested his hand on his palm before making a jaw-splitting grin across his face, turning to face papyrus fully with a mischievous air.
"Yes they are."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yeh- as." He said triumphantly.

"Argg! Fine, I'll go 'mess around' with my puzzles." Papyrus spoke pointedly before turning back to a small corner of the room, pulling out a box filled with colorful metal scraps and tools.

He sat down next to the box before dumping half out to invade the floor. Sans was almost annoyed with how they even scattered onto some books but it was easily over washed with the relief of his brother having something to focus on instead of letting his mind wonder.

"I'll do something in the meantime cause I know you're probably having a mental fit at my pacing." Papyrus croaked out knowingly.

"But you can't hide that fact that your just as worried. I'm going to head out later and at least have an idea of what's going on. You can come with me if you want."

"Ok. I will." Sans went back to looking at his book.

There was no point in reading after hearing his brother's plan.

~~~

Wingdings was playing around with the cuffs on his hands. Moving them away and closer to each other like one would when playing with magnets and feeling for the far limits they had in store whenever he moved them apart. Every once in a while he saw a spark bounce and it helped light the dim room with a smoke of blue. Wingdings tried to be fascinated with the technology but it was easily wasted with the idea that the cuffs probably weren't relatively new and that it was only him living in a time bubble that got him fascinated in the first place.

Now that he thought about it... how much time had passed since he put the barrier up? He still hadn't had the thought to put some sort of day ticker outside of the barrier and it wasn't like he kept in contact with a lot of monsters outside to know much of anything. What had changed since the war? Probably not much besides how cozy monsters have become with their situation. Not that he blamed them for it. He'd admit he has sort of found a peace that came with not having humans around. They weren't exactly friendly with monsters in the first place.

He started growing tired of his sitting position and his train of thought was slowly draining his interest. He arched his back against the wall and rolled his shoulders to stretch. He could hear the feint popping of bones striking each other and moving but he couldn't actually feel them. It made him feel like he wasn't even moving at all even though there was clearly proof before his eyes.

It was almost alienating the hands he saw in front of him once he sat straight. His body moved but he couldn't feel it moving. It wasn't even his body anymore by the time he staggered himself into standing. He couldn't see his feet clearly below his so when he took test steps forward it seemed like he was watching a movie of black and grey blobs moving around the screen. It was nauseating and extremely unsettling. It warped his mind when he continued to pace around in circles to get used to walking and even more so to stop staring at his feet in order to coordinate himself.

He hit the ledge of whatever he had been laying on a couple of times with how bad his vision was and how the colors matched the warm grey walls. At some point in his adventure around the tiny room he found that he was indeed in a jail cell. Feeling around the area where the guard had come in and finding the fuzzy streaks to be metal bars and the light being magic candles that flooded the room with power that Wingdings thought could rival the morning of a winter sun.

He herd shuffling on the other side and practically jumped back somewhere close to the middle of the cell in surprise.

There was a tapping noise that he could hear. Docile in a way that Wingdings knew it wasn't a guard.

A prisoner?

He wearily moved back to the bars after a second. Hands momentarily fumbling for one of the metal rods in casing him before placing his head as close as he could to the space in between, trying his best to catch a glimpse of movement in the cells the he assumed made up the walls of grey hidden from the candles.

Then he herd more clicking before an alarming voice came distorted through the stony walls.

"Amazing, I never thought I'd see another thing like us for another century if any at all..." they said almost drunkenly. Their voice was rather frightening and jumbled. It took an embarrassing amount of time for Wingdings to decipher what they were saying. They spoke in a skeletal text it seemed, of what? Wingdings couldn't remember. The memories of his teachings above ground nothing but a blur and even more so when it came to skeleton social politics. All he knew was that it was a text as much decipherable as his own symbolic and unorthodox text, the one he was named after.

"you can understand me right? I mean, if you are as much skeleton as you look then you should be able to understand a halfbreed easy." they annouciated condescendingly; sarcastically.

"come on! Speak! Gotta at least hear actual text after years of elementals groaning in these halls and fumbling about in the boring normal dialogue."

Wingdings sat down on the floor. Squinting his eyes through the bars as if that would help his sight in the other monster apparently complaining about racist company.

From what Wingdings could tell they were loyal to their born script. Wingdings didn't understand those type of people, likely for being too young to understand. He preferred to speak in the practical default 'dialogue' as often as he could. He knew that his born text was rather useless when others couldn't understand him.

There weren't really any skeletons around for him to use it anyway.

"What are ya? Mute? Highly doubt it" they kept on taunting.

Finally Wingdings gave in, if anything then for annoyance.

"I'm not mute..." he said tiredly. The text echoed through the halls sharply with each simply syllable.

"oh oh! I know this one! It's...um. Okay gimme a sec-"

"Wingdings..." he gave a frustrated sigh and continued his fail attempts to see the person he was talking to.

"Yes! Wingdings! Oh wait-" they mumbled something to them self.
"oh yeah! Okay so one of your parents had a Dingbats text. Man that's so cool I mean, as you can tell so was mine. In fact it's actual Dingbats! Ain't that somethin' to waste. Yanno' in the old days I'd probably be top of the hierarchy. I miss the old days! Imagine where I could be instead..." This guy talked a lot.

"oh and just a matter of warning. Us two better get along else this prison gonna turn into a case of insanity inducing isolation. I know with the amount of time I've spent alone that not doing so ain't gonna' be pretty."

Chapter Text

Crack. Crack.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Everywhere he looked revealed nothing but black. There was a sinister chill up his spine as he whipped his head back and forth. Up and down? He couldn't tell. There was no floor, no ceiling. No body below his head and no hands to search with. Everything was simply gone. His mind was gone and the sense of panic crawling with every crack he herd.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

He couldn't feel anything. It was all gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

His breathing became quicker but he didn't know why. Why? Where was he? He knew nothing didn't he? He need to leave. Leave! He tried to move but his body did nothing. There was nothing to do! He look everywhere again but didn't know how he was doing it. He just knew he could. Some how.

Something vague caught his attention and the cracks became louder. Every time he tried to think of something, it disappeared. There was no thought to be had. Even if he could think it would save him. He knew something was wrong. Something in the pit of his soul telling him that vague thing now in front of him would be his demise. But then a crack came and it was erased. Gone.

It was a vague white blob, far away but as it got closer the cracks became such as well. It faded in and out with the black void absorbing it corners. The figure glitches back and forth, it's image sliding left and right and layering itself across his vision. It was all he saw. And when it got closer he saw a face. A creature. It was monster once he could tell. Crack.

It was monster once he could tell.

Crack.

It was monster once..

Crack.

It was....

Crack!

He knew it was the source of his fear. He knew there was a reason too. Something in the back of his mind he didn't remember. Something...

Crack.

Nothing.

There was a white hand. Skeletal. But not? It's hand was horrid. Like clay had been made for its bones but the sculptor messed up and their creation became a mangled box with five sticks coming out, squished and lumpy, a poor imitation of its goal.

There was a hole in the middle that resembled the void that surrounded it. He somehow knew they were different. It was simply something stored in the back of his mind, something illogical that said this thing carried coveting blackness to spread like the plague everywhere it went. Crack.

As it got closer he stopped breathing all together. Thoughts raced and skidded in his mind in between cracks and fear above them all in a horrid tyranny. He looked down frustratingly slow to find his soul had been summoned. The small inverted heart giving off a muted glow with crooked fingers coming all the closer. Something was wrong. Something's wrong. Wrong. Wrong! He struggled to move but nothing obeyed right. It wasn't his choice anymore was it? The cracks around him became louder and louder to the point where there was a painful ringing in his skull which would've made him wince, but it seemed he didn't have eye lids anymore either.

The hand was inches away, a nudge and it would touch his soul. He couldn't tear his eyes off the obscenely close hand. It was going to take his soul. Take it into its crooked phalanges and never let go. He knew it! That's all he's good for right? His soul? It was just some greedy monster wasn't it? Someone who wants to end his life. Someone who hates him. Someone who hates his parents. His brothers.

Somehow he knew that wasn't it.

Crack.

The second it touched his soul he could feel a burning all over his phantom body. The feeling of his bones evaporating in a scorching heat, dust flicking off the surface like kicked up snow. He was dying wasn't he? This was the end. He could feel himself shaking, the noise getting louder and a silent scream making it's way pointlessly in an effort to alert whatever nonexistent soul out there could hear his screams. The hand practically engulfed his soul and all he felt was burbling lava on his bones. The sensation of being cooked inside out. Torn limb from limb. Broken and reattached.

He was finally able to move his eyes away from the horror. The face was smiling. A melted and crescent grin tearing through its face with large orbs of black making up its eyes. He could see the sorrow. Hate. Every spectrum of negative emotion on the creatures face all wrapped up in that insane curve that defied everything he saw within that face. Tears moved from the edges of its eyes in a spiral shape perpendicular to the flats of its face like it obeyed a gravity from no other world but its own. He could feel the squeeze of the creatures hand all around him almost. Cracks of a different cord rang through his ears this time and he screamed. Nothing came though to his ears.

His vision blurred and layered the world again, his soul flickered left and right but he could see cracks webbing its surface despite the hindering sight.

Whispers came. Sharp to the head like knives lashing full force, stronger then weak in sound but searing pain all the same.

"Try again..." was all the creature said among the clashing noises.

And then he woke up.

"Ey kid. Kid!"

He couldn't open his eyes, the pain in his chest so potent that it sent periodic pulses through his body from simply working his magic. His limbs throbbed in a phantom pain which made thinking unbearable. His breath was so quick that he wasn't even getting any air. He had to calm down.

Later...

He couldn't stop.

At some point his mind became some what aware and he lept from the cot hanging from the wall and ran to the other side of his room in haggard steps, hands gripping his neck in the hopes to unclog the nonexistent block in his throat. His vision stayed blurry but was hindered even more by the blackness crawling on the edges, the creature was cackling a nasty wet and distorted laugh as his hand wiped blindly on the wall for the aforementioned button he had been told about.

"Hey Wings! What's--" His hearing started to cut out as well, piling onto the panic that had gathered already in him. His movements became slower and his legs started to become numb after the confusing instance of feeling he had in them. His efforts to find the button were weakening and the shadows were coming closer, attacking whatever he had left. Killing him. He had to-! Something! What was he doing?

He could faintly feel his body crashing to the floor.

~~~

Papyrus started packing the next day after he had promised to venture out of their protective bubble. He didn't expect to be outside for long but he wasn't exactly inept for the outside and felt like there was a reason Wingdings didn't want them going out there. That idea drew up some nervousness. He's been in this cave for years and not once had he thought to leave. He always saw Wingdings come back haggard after a trip and figured the outside world wasn't all pillows and cushions. Something wasn't right about it.

Not to mention he was deliberately going against a life times worth of teachings in a mind who's unfamiliar with disobedience. He could feel Sans' worried gaze over his shoulder as he packed medicals and such for emergencies. Papyrus could practically feel the nervousness off of Sans in waves, his packing being pulled back by a mental restraint as he visibly fought himself to continue the action. He'd never actually gotten into trouble before either so for him this might be a little more then "Oops, forgot I was supposed to do that."

Sans dreaded the moment Papyrus declared he was ready to leave.

He zipped up the small torn satchel and swung it around his shoulders, the loose fabric making an obnoxious flapping noice that had Sans wincing.

"I think that's about it." He said and looked up at Sans in worry. He was fidgeting and fighting his own hands in anxiety and his teeth were practically sowed together with how tight he was keeping his jaw.

"You don't have to come with me you know..." he really didn't want to force him into something like this.

It took a moment for the other to comprehend that Papyrus was giving him an out. "I really rather not, Paps. I-I'll be fine..." Papyrus could tell he was lying. He wasn't fine. As a person who valued constants and patterns, he could tell Sans was defiantly out of his league and most certainly not fine with how wayward and unconfident he was being. It wasn't that different to how he normally acts but still! 

"Okay..." Papyrus said, voice wavering and telling stories of how bad of an idea it was to go out. He was starting to rethink his idea too.

He turned his body to the crack slicing the wall in resolution but his mind was crumbling at what he was about to do. He forced himself forward and climbed through easily with the only hindered efforts being the new weight of the satchel. Sans came through as well but once again was noticeably more hesitant. It was only the first part.

They moved down the room towards the hall where the Barrier had rested for almost all their lives, careful to toe around the magic water Sans had clumsily spilled before and made into a permanent fixture.

And then emptiness stood before them. The purple shimmering gate gone leaving phantom traces of magic sparking in the air with short lives. It was almost surreal to see it that way after being an everlasting part of their lives. It proved unsettling for them both and they marveled at the foreign sight, purposely ignoring the reasoning behind it in favor of curiosity. Much in favor.

They stepped forward...

~~~

Dingbats lived a rather uninteresting life in the prison. Living his time of day and night doing various activities that one might consider an insane mans work. He often would tap in rhythmic beats on the walls for hours or sit and count for unfathomable times despite the pile of books he's earned over the years to entertain himself. 'Why?' Though is the question. Why he did that was something only he could put as logical. He didn't want them to have leverage. If your not dependent on anything... what can they take from you? He knew the reason why he was here was unfair. That they had picked out all possible routes to take him captive and would further try reason to kill him or make him useful. 'Goddamn racists' he would say if the word 'race' had any meaning to monsters. He was still monster after all. Part...

Correction: 'Goddamn monsters'

Then it came upon him that maybe his endeavors to silently protest his want to read were useless. Maybe he could take a moment to peak. They looked like interesting stories. He often times would have them lean against the wall and his cot with the summary facing outwards as to sat in the middle of his room straining to read them, spending hours on a sentence then moving on to the next one unfalteringly. They were entertaining enough in short paragraphs so why not full books? He had no need to recite its summaries after all. Why not challenge himself?

Then his mind told him no like a backhanding parent keeping a bad child in line.

He decided he'd continue his mental rebellion a little longer. For the 1320th time.

He often had these kinds of arguments with himself.

He forced himself to move onto another topic in his mind, moving from the corner in the wall to just under where his cot hung to symbolize this change of subject to the outside world. He often felt the need to show the people who might be watching when something different is going to be brought up. He didn't even have to look to see they were nodding their heads towards him as he found a topic to rant on to them in his mind.

That kid...

He was strange for sure. Well, not that he had any real proof. Only that they were a skeleton which was proof enough. But having the Wingdings font. It was something you just never see. His family must be weird then...

Dingbats had over herd his conversation with Rockelle, or half conversation because he was pretty sure the elemental hadn't given him a sheet of paper to communicate with her with. Truly he wondered what Wingdings could've done to piss the Captain of The Royal Guard so badly. His head was practically on a stake with the list Rockelle spat out. Of course half of it was false but that didn't leave much of a good person. He kind of felt bad for the kid if it weren't for how rude he was when he introduced himself. Kids these days...

Dingbats found himself turning his head and subtly pointing his gaze to the cells Wingdings was in as if the phantom monsters holding up his mental conversation didn't know where they were. He knew they were only figments of his imagination but that didn't stop him from treating them like people. He could be polite dammit!

He had to adjust his glasses in order to focus on the small details he could find on investigating where Wingdings was exactly in the moment. It was silent and he was nowhere near the rusty gates of the cell so Dingbats concluded the little shit to be sleeping in his cot. Not very peacefully though. It didn't bother him however, he didn't exactly have good nights when he first came into the cold rooms too. Having never before done anything that much needed more then a fine to pay.

He could almost feel the people watching questioning why he hated the kid so severely already. They were, after all, present when he was talking to Wingdings first and his answer would normally be he hated everyone. Probably why he acted snotty about them in the first place and why he had no REAL friends either. He could bear with the ridicule. No the real reason was that while he instantly hated the kid, Wingdings also solidified his opinion of him when he answered back all his questions. Dingbats looked back on them like a tape rewinding and each time Wingdings' response got a nastier undertone and his words distorting into hate.

Dingbats knew somewhere in the back of his head that his mind was making things up again for his own amusement. He needed to have reasons and doing so without them made him seem crazy!

Ah, well, not like anyone could judge him beside his own mind.

He hated not being able to read...

Then he herd Wingdings' breathing become heavier. Dingbats actually became curious. He moved back to face the bars and careened his head in a way that let his sight reach only a few inches more. It didn't help much but he could now hear a little more clearly though he figured the improved quality of sound went both ways.

"Ey kid. Kid!" he didn't answer and Dingbats was tempted to put that on the "Reasons to Hate Him" list.

There was banging and Wingdings came into view with a choking noise. He was stumbling helplessly, arms gripping... something. He couldn't see from his cells what it was. Was he drunk or something?

He ended up asking just that.

That earned him no response and Dingbats felt a little bit of his distaste rise in his chest for the person. Irrational, he was once again. He could feel the people's judging stares.

Wingdings breathing became noticeably haggard and Dingbats realized that something might actually be wrong.

"Hey Wings! What's goin' on? You okay?"

The only answer was a choking noise.

Then Dingbats saw that he was stumbling for the Call Button... and failing.

Immediately he felt the people urge him to call Rockelle with his own Call Button and pettily he refused despite what seemed like a dire situation.

Eventually their judging stare broke him when they saw Wingdings fall to the ground and feint. So he walked to the button like he were unwillingly taking out the trash.

He was such a good person...

It wasn't long after that the elemental came jogging down with both a worried and questioning look on her rocky face. It was understandable considering Dingbats had never used the Call Button till just then. He always mentally kept it in the same category as a fire extinguisher as something that you're never supposed to touch and only to be a decoration till really needed.

She looked to him then Wingdings before understanding why she'd been called. She instantly opened the gate to Wingdings' cell and slid it to the side before crouching down to his unconscious body for an examination.

Dingbats considered his work done, slugging himself onto the cot and toying with the striped sleeve he'd had since oh-so long ago when he asked for his civilian clothes to be cleaned. He never saw the things again but at least the jail clothes were comfy enough for his taste. He wasn't going to be picky about it.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rochelle stand up with a sigh then leave the cell to close the gates behind her. She trudged to Dingbats with a rather grim facial expression.

Wonder what feelings Wingdings sent her.

She stopped in front of his cell and handed him a paper and a pencil to write on which he accepted almost instantly.

"You got any idea what happened?" She said disjointed.

He scrabbled on the paper with sloppy hand writing saying 'Just as clueless as you'

"Can you state what happened?" The way she said it signaled him that she was picking up more his air then Wingdings. That's a problem considering at the moment Dingbats feels like not giving a crap about what happened.

'Probably had a nightmare that carried out a little too weird'

When he was done she snatched the slip out of his hand and read carefully, very much wanting to get it over with like him. Truly she was the most susceptible monster when it came to emotions.

"Yeah okay." Rockelle grumbled sourly. "There's also these weird cracks on his skull not too. Hear any banging or something? Besides the feinting part. They're like these weird fractures."

~~~

The outside world proved horrifically strange to the twins. Of course they've seen bits of it in their cave but never before naturally. They didn't know there was a river of magic water or plants that talked or even that stones could stick to ceilings in such a beautiful way. Everything was new despite not being so. Papyrus even gaped at his own maze he made all those years ago when commissioned by his brother. Plants where growing around the invisible walls and the sheet of frost lacing it gave a shimmer that Papyrus had never seen before. Must have been the winter seeping into the place but while he logically knew what was going on, he couldn't comprehend it was real. So long had they lived in that tiny room and they had been contempt knowing they wouldn't be leaving any time soon. Papyrus didn't think he could go back now...

Sans still held that nervous air, picking and twisting the sleeve of his old sweater while looking around. He had read books of all kinds and the real world outside seemed like a fairy tale. Some books didn't exactly have nice things in them either and that had him especially nervous of what might be true and what isn't.

Sans tried to keep himself from not running back to where they'd started and instead tightened his grip on Papyrus' hand.

The twins held onto each other for their own reasons though. Their gaze wondering everywhere but never leaving each others side for fear they would drift off into the big rooms and halls of the world they'd never known to exist. They wondered around for what seemed for hours staring at the inconceivable expanse.

At some point Sans became too over whelmed and lowered his head so as to not fall into the absolute infinity of the echoing halls. He pretended he and Papyrus were only walking in circles around the secluded room while waiting for their brother to return with goods. He really hoped Wingdings was okay. He wished the world stayed consistent like before. Never had his brother left for more then what seemed like hours, he always come back and they'd always welcome him. This was such a bad idea. Maybe Wingdings is home right now?

"Sans, I really don't think so."

Sans shot his gaze back up from the floor to Papyrus, having not realized in his daze that he'd said it out loud.

His gaze softened and he whined despite being the older of the two. "Paps, can we please go back. This isn't helping either of us. I can tell."

Papyrus wavered for a second at Sans' out of character plea. Wondering how badly Sans was feeling the out of place feeling he was. "But what if he's lost or something? Wingdings?"

"You think he'd really be lost after years of going out?"

Sans suddenly stopped in his tracks as if he were strong enough to really hold his stronger brother back. Papyrus obliged if only to allow Sans a moment.
"... No, but he could be stuck somewhere, you know how clumsy he can be sometimes.", Papyrus said.

"I also know that he's done this a million times."

"Come on Sans. Just a little longer! If not for Dings then to at least learn about the world! This is all new ground, aren't you a little excited?" Papyrus started tugging on Sans' hand but he kept his feet rooted to the ground.

"Paps, I really don't like this place. What if something bad happens?" The thought of going further and further -getting lost- scared Sans more then anything. His mind at the moment was analyzing all the possible outcomes in this trip. He didn't even bother with the good ones, only looking to all the bad ones; the ones to be avoided were they to go back.

They were too focused in their bickering to notice the small figure attracted to the noise. Her actions hesitant and steps stuttering at the sight. More skeletons? She was nervous of the two, previous encounters not being the best. Her Uncle said they were bad right? His voice echoed in her head saying 'Don't go near them'. Then she realized she was the strongest of all. That she could easily beat the two in a fight.

She wasn't one to be commanded.

Chapter Text

The twins' bickering was immediately halted when the sharp sound of broken air met the echoes of the caves. Sans flinched vigorously and he gutted Papyrus in an unconscious effort to move him out of the projectiles way. He traced his sight along the glowing blue path of a spear that lended right beside his foot, angled close to the ground in a way that pointed directly to the fish girl now in their presence. Sans and Papyrus instantly felt their souls leave their bodies and color drain from the world the second their eyes landed on the girl.

She had a nasty toothy grin so yellow that it distracted their eyes.
For a moment, Papyrus felt the need to tell her she needed better tooth paste but figured it hadn't been the time for it.

Sans was panicking. Thoughts raced through his head trying to find what he had done wrong. His social error. There had to be reason. A reason she was attacking. He didn't bother asking though, the thought of even communicating with the girl seemed to him like talking to an alien. Before anything were to be said Sans whipped his body around with Papyrus' hand snatched painfully from his side and dragged. He broke into a hasty run which stuttered when his tattered shoe met moist mud and slid. The color flooded back in that moment and it almost caused Sans to stop in unsuspecting shock, but something worse caught his attention.

He didn't know where they were.

Sans didn't stop running though, and Papyrus did the same. He was wincing at his brother's death grip but figured he probably shouldn't bring that up either.

They kept running.

There was no direction in Sans' steps, no pattern or strategy. Only fear and second opportunity commanding his mind. His foot work clumsy in his efforts and tangling with his brother's longer legs every once in a while, every time the path forked he bounced between choosing left or right unpredictably. It was almost subconscious in his efforts to ween the fish girl off their tail. God, why was she even attacking? Didn't monsters stay peaceful?

For a heart stopping moment the world turned grey again and they were locked in a battle with their turn on the way. Spears flying this way and that, the twins dodging with inept skill, the magic nicking their clothes and narrowly missing bones. Once their turn came up Sans didn't hesitate to choose the run option, setting his feet into a running stance before doing just so. This time Papyrus was ready to run, actually going past Sans and dragging HIM in their hysteric fear.

"Arrg! Stop running!" The girl yelled.

They dismissed her and kept on going.

They were so focused on simply getting away that they didn't notice they had ran straight past the cave they grew up in, turning into a smaller more obscure one which led to winding tunnels that were both a blessing and a curse.

Sans knew the moment he saw them that they wouldn't find their way back out.

That didn't stop them though. The hostile monster behind fueling the speed of their legs. They didn't, however, notice the cold frost whisking the humid air in small whispers down certain tunnels.

Then a pattern started, one moment they would run and jump and the next everything lost color. Drawn into a fight then chased back into another. The air grew colder and the scenery barren the farther they went. The entire time Sans had attempted to remember the paths he took but he could only come up with a contradictory maze in his head which quickly faded as they ran further.

Eventually the cold became stinging on their feet as the water mixed dirt added to a painful path to run on, slippery and untrustworthy. They slowly started to realize the white, sluggish patches that appeared around them and in growing numbers. They kept going.

Then an enormous breeze shot between their bones after a particularly sharp turn and they were forced stop, a ring of the white sludge covered the rocks before them on roof and floor and they had to lift up their arms in order to protect their faces from the sharp wind. The fish girl was behind them but didn't pull them into a fight, instead emulating the same motion the twins had. When they opened their eyes they found white. Pure white ground and tall triangular structures among the monochrome floor that reflected the light of cyan blue.

They spun to face the girl again, the monochrome they had mistaken for natural being the sudden pull of a fight once again. The blue had been another spear that missed and landed feet away due to her exhaustion. Her back was hunched and her eyes looked feral from anger that manifested for reasons unknown to the skeletons. This time her barrage of attacks were far less sculpted and more hazardous, chaotic even. They crossed so sloppily that little effort was needed avoid them. The white sludge made them nervous of their situation, while her attacks were easier to dodge it wasn't easier to get a grip on the ground. Every once in a while, one of the twins would move to avoid another spear but would slip a foot more then desired with multiple occasions having them almost run into another.

Their dance continued.

Once the girl was finished with her turn, the twins immediately fell back into their pattern of escape, they turned and grabbed each others hands and turned away once again, facing the white coated world beyond. Only to run into something.

Someone.

They looked up at the new comer, fear struck in their eyes with dealing with more monsters. A monster that was engulfed with fire and face tempered into solidity. Blank. They looked down at the twins before turning their head back up and tilting it to the side almost questioning to the fish girl. The Sans saw the opening then and there, taking advantage of his moments rest and gathering weak magic; darting with his brother's hand in tow. He ran, only this time, a wall had formed behind made completely of bone. Leaving footprints and a curious flame.

~~~

Wingdings wished he had more entertainment within his cell besides the nasty mouthed skeleton next door. Well, not nasty mouthed like typically thought. He spoke offensively but only in a way that could in reality pass as nice sentiments. He talked of everyday things but with Wingdings' hyper focus on the guy's voice through the bars it made it obvious of his disconnect and distaste of literally everything. Maybe he was just imagining it but every word he said had sarcasm bucketed onto it. He imagined thick, viscous liquid simply poured onto each sentence.

At some point Wingdings just blocked out his strange off-putting whimsey for a preference of toying with a rutty piece of fabric from his shirt and it threads.

He jumped a little when the loud noises of metal hitting each other echoed harshly through the walls. He immediately jerked his arm upward to the cot he was sitting under and used it to help himself up in some unconscious effort to seem politely alert but easily fixed himself to relax once he realized he didn't really care.

Dingbats had become silent and Wingdings decided he might as well find out who the guard was and prepare himself. He knew Rockelle well enough to know he would only have to calm his own temperament to calm hers. Being an elemental made them especially perceptive to souls. With other guards, he had no idea how to deal with them.

When he looked out through the bars he saw two guards walking perfectly in symmetric alignment. Behind them was a tall shadowy figure and in front of them was Rockelle leading the way in uncharacteristically stiff and measured movements. Wingdings didn't know what to make of the situation and figured it was out of his hands whatever happened next when they reached their cells. He sat simply waiting.

He waited with a tiny voice in the back of his head that pleaded to all the worlds out there that he wasn't who they were looking for and when the group of walking metal stopped at the two cells of the skeletons, he hoped it was for the other.

Rockelle turned to Wingdings' cage.

He could tell Dingbats was hoping the other would be taken too and could hear his breath of relief.

Wingdings was not pleased.

He wanted to question them, ask what was going on, what was going to happen, who was it behind them; that regal figure.

He didn't, only pushing himself to silence. And not only because they wouldn't be able to understand him.

Luckily the other captive held an almost sadistic curiosity in knowing HE wasn't the one to suffer and therefore would be safe from backlash when he handed a note that was written in big letters to Rockelle through the bars of his own containment.

"Taking him?" was all it said and he was given an answer just as simple.

"Trial."

~~~

Grillby sat on his couch with Undyne seated across from him in a small, portable chair, both separated by a long table. There was a plethora of pens and pencils scattered across the table with a cookbook and tiny slips of flash cards following the same density of the writing tools. Grillby had the cookbook open to some page with a picture of an overly appetizing meal covering half in an effort to make it seem what your learning from the text was as bountiful as its useless pages. Grillby knew this and always set to make flash cards such that he could simply fall back on his memory in the process and had everything compiled neatly for later use.

However, Undyne always hated this part of her friends idil day.

She flung herself back onto the back side of her chair and groaned in unveiled annoyance.

"Why do you do this? Just... why?" She asked almost pleadingly.

Grillby only rolled his eyes and continued with his copy and write pattern on the flash cards.

"B, your BORING. Did'ja know that?" Grillby ignored her antics.

She groaned again and rolled herself back in into the sitting position she had been in before and begrudgingly went back to work in putting titles on the flash card Grillby had finished. When she was done with the pile Grillby had put out for her, she reached under the table for a large, almost comical top hat and dumped all the neat flash cards into it and promptly shoved it to Grillby.

"Pick."

And he did.

"There, now come on. We're doing the fun part now."

Grillby snorted and let her drag him out of the groove in the couch, pulling him into the dark room down the hall. Grillby's flames already made the area somewhat seeable but Undyne still flicked on the lights. Her fins folded to her head for a second, unprepared for the intense light. She then turned to grab the slip of paper from Grillby's hand, reading the title then skimming over the ingredients, becoming noticeably excited.

The flame leaned over her shoulder to glance at the slip.

Spaghetti. Of course.

Her favorite dish and fairly simple.

They both moved to grab the ingredients, both moving in tandem with each other to gather noodles, tomatoes, spices and other pots and tools they may need. Undyne raided Grillby's fridge and grabbed around five large tomatoes and dumped them onto the cutter next to a large knife.

"Think this is enough?"

Grillby took a deep breath and said, "... might need a bit... more..."

Undyne moved to the fridge again but Grillby stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "...Might." He emphasized.

She gave him a look but moved to her previous position in front of the cutting board and knife.

"So... guessin' we dice?" He nodded, "goddit."

They both grabbed knives, Grillby's better suited then Undyne's and began the process of cutting the tomatoes into neat strips, then squares, then tiny blocks. The fish kept a rather aggressive stature through it all and every time her knife fell, the cutter would gain a tiny scratch. She'd have to buy a new one for him again with how their session was going.

Grillby kept a steady and consistent chop which led to neat order. He ended up laughing a little at both of their end result. Stark in comparison kinda of like them both. Undyne's pile was jagged with pieces having notches from sloppy cuts and juice was all over the board with how tightly she held the poor veggie. Grillby's pile was neat with the tiny blocks lined in rough rows, it would have been perfect if it weren't for the slight crumbly burn marks he had left with his grip.

Grillby then nodded, knowing the actual shape of them didn't matter and grabbed a bowl to place all the chopped bits into it. He handed it to Undyne who automatically knew what to do with how many times they had practiced the dish. She fired up the stove and placed the bowl onto one of the metal plates. Her hands were shaky under the weight of the bowl pulling on her wrists. She grabbed a ladle and lethargically stirred the chunks as if it pained her to move at such a slow pace. Grillby only clapped cheerfully and went to grab spices.

"Ey B, why do we have ta stir it so slowly?"

"...that way it's all evenly warmed...?"

"So even you don't know."

"I know it's required..."

She grumbled at his halfling of an answer.

Grillby returned and shredded the spices into the dish while Undyne watched it broil and the simmer be whisked away with every stir. Once the pot was deemed ready, Grillby had Undyne lift it back to the counter and directed her to poor it into an already set container. He then grabbed a box of dried spaghetti and grabbed a pot to poor the water and the hard noodles into. Once again he had Undyne carry the pot onto the stove.

"Ya know, sometimes I feel like I'm just your muscle." She said with a quick, joking glare.

Grillby only smiled and shook his head, pointing to the resting container of tomato sauce. "...You stirred it..."

"'Cause you're too short ta do it."

This time, out of spite, Grillby climbed onto the counter next to the stove and stirred the noodles with the wooden spoon from there. His legs were dangling off and when Undyne came near to attempt her usual job, he used his foot to push her back. She tried again and got the same treatment.

Again and this time she didn't allow him to move her back. "Come on B, this is probably the funnest part besides actually eating it!"

He stuck his tongue out and her face went sour. "Down or I'm flicking water on you."

He scrambled back into the floor quick.

She smiled to herself, doing her usual job and Grillby stood on the sidelines doing nothing but instructing her when she was moving too fast or slow.

Needless to say, he was a little bored at the simplicity.

He took a deep breath and, "Who were those skeletons you were... chasing earlier?"

"Don't know." She answered simply, seemingly forcing herself to focus more on the counter clockwise motion.

"...Then why were you chasing... them?"

"Uncle said they were bad."

He tilted his head at this. "Bad...?"

"That they were dangerous and why we're stuck underground anyway."

The elemental turned to himself in thought before asking, "why were they scared then?"

"What do you mean?"

"... if they were... so dangerous, wouldn't they be aware?... and therefore not afraid?"

She got a prideful glint in her eye. "Because the Great Undyne is one to be feared!"

Grillby pondered her strange answer. "You shouldn't do that though..."

"Why not?"

"It's mean?"

"But they were mean to us!"

"...You don't know them."

"But I know what they are."

"They probably did nothing though..."

The fish paused, then turned back to the now soft noodles.

"Let's stop, I don't like arguing with you."

Grillby's face crinkled at her excuse. He begrudgingly agreed, not liking that he was letting this pass. "...fine..."

~~~

Sans' feet began to fall out beneath him and his legs became numb from the cold. His soul felt stretched under his chest and the strain was carrying along the entirety of his body in a debilitating act amongst his bones. The sight he saw was darkening at the edges and his eye lights felt like they were physically being restricted.

Papyrus had to intervene, seeing the clear physical strain he was putting onto his brother. He grabbed his twins' arm and dug his feet into the ground while simultaneously pulling him to his chest. They both fell to the ground with an 'omff'. Feeling his brother's overworked chest rise and fall abnormally fast, Papyrus pieced together something was wrong. The shorter was hyperventilating and Papyrus instructed deep breaths like he'd seen in his comics. The hero calming the helpless.

He didn't feel like the hero. He felt like the villain.

Sans started calming, chest rising slower and falling all the same. His clouded vision cleared and his head began to gain weight from his lightheadedness. His soul felt sore from the strain and he as well began to notice the cold literally soaking into his pants and the winds cutting his bones. He also noticed the subtle tapping on his shoulder, slow and eerie.

Then he herd a croaked 'Sorry'.

Sans looked up from his limp seat and almost missed the tiny translucent line running down his brother's face before Papyrus hid it into the shorter's shoulder.

"Sans, I'm so sorry." He hiccuped and Sans' soul sank.

He turned to face his twin and held the tearing face in his hands.

"Shh shh..."

His feeble attempts to calm his brother only made it worse and Papyrus began crying streams of magic while apologizing over and over.

"I'm sorry Sans, 'm sorry."

"Shh, sorry for what?" He tried to keep the worry out of his voice and failed when it squeaked a little.

"It's my f-fault!"

Alarm immediately spiked in Sans, "what?! No!"

"Yes it is!" He paused to get her his breath. "I-I shouldn't have tried to-to..." Papyrus trailed off.

"To what?" Sans practically challenged.

"I-It's my fault we're lost! We never should've left the cave. I sh-should've listened to you and turned around!"

Sans' soul dropped and his mind immediately scrambled for something to say properly in this situation.

"Now we're stuck here and Dings is gone and we don't even know any monsters! What if another attacks us? Because of me?!"

"Paps, it's not your fault..." he drawled his sentence awkwardly.

"But we don't know where we are. Dings doesn't know where we are!" He sobbed.

Sans slowly started to realize the severity of their situation. Papyrus pointing out conflicts and drawing a path for more. 'Optimism, Optimism' was all he could think to calm his brother.

But he wasn't the optimist!

"Calm down. I promise we'll figure something out."

Sans thought for a moment, comically putting his hand on his chin hoping to at least choke amusement out of the younger. "How 'bout we go find some shelter, yeah? Then we can start, yanno, sorting' everything out?" He lifted a thumb to wipe the tears off the bone and Papyrus sniffled a little before nodding. Sans shot up from the ground, "Geddup!" Sans said smiling, "Lets go bug some wood an' make a fire!" and he dragged Papyrus up from sitting in the cold, a spot darkened on his rear.

Sans didn't know how long he could keep up his Papyrus Pseudo and was slowly cringing at the thought of how little equip he was for this.