lostcarnival | ⇨ HOME AGAIN

Entry tags:

⇨ HOME AGAIN

Who: Anyone!
When: Day 68 - Day 72
Where: Carnival grounds.
What: Everyone makes it back to the carnival after their adventure in hell. The Ringmaster makes a new lake to celebrate, apparently.
Warnings: A notable absence of torture.

TO HELL AND BACK↴

The rescuers and the liberated captives will emerge from the portal like bats out of hell. Much like their previous return, this arrival will be met with a flurry of medical activity as everyone gets their injuries seen to, particularly those that had been held prisoner within Morningstar's hell fortress. It will still be night when they arrive, and the rest of Day 68 will be clouded over completely, for the benefit of the new vampires as they get settled in. After the immediate panic is dealt with, the Ringmaster will disappear into the forest until the morning of Day 69. It will be raining off and on during her absence.

► RECOVERY: Unlike the last time, the Ringmaster will be supplying the carnival workers with some healing potions from her private hoard, given that most of the healers are already wounded or spent. Damage caused by iron poisoning will not be cured by healing magic or healing items though, unfortunately, and those who have spent a lot of time in contact with iron will take at least a week to fully recover. However, regular healing remedies like bandages and herbs may help speed things along if the patient is suited to them.

► A BRAND NEW LAKE: On the morning of Day 69, the Ringmaster will return the forest to announce that she's built a new lake into the carnival grounds, only a short trail's distance from the backyard. Unlike most of the forest, this area won't just lead you in circles when explored, meaning that it can actually be modified and developed as the workers see fit. The water is always clean and just the right temperature for swimming, though it gets a bit cooler the deeper you swim. At the far side of the lake, there is a warm, stone pathway leading up the side of the mountain, that will eventually take you to some bangin' hot springs. Brought to you mostly because the Ringmaster doesn't know how to say sorry with actual words. At least it gives you something to play with while you try to shake off the trauma.

► FRUITS OF VICTORY: On Day 70, all the workers who came to hell for the rescue mission will be given a gift from the Ringmaster. Each of them will receive a bright green, glowing seed, about the size of your thumbnail. She will tell you that, when planted, the seeds will swiftly grow into a small citrus tree, which will grow fruits with regenerative properties. More details about these plants will be written up in a separate post, but for now your characters can ogle them and decide if they are going to plant them or not.

► TAKE ME TO CHURCH: Staring on Day 71, the Ringmaster will be starting to work on removing the vampirism from those infected with it, which apparently involves a lot of... meditation? She will take the newbie vampires out into a shady area of the forest and encourage them to look inside themselves and attempt to separate themselves spiritually from their demonic beasts. How well you character masters her teachings over time will determine whether or not she is ultimately capable of stripping out your demon soul and returning you to life. Of course, not all demons are made equal, and some will be more difficult to separate than others...

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The look in Sans's eyes is clear - it's the kind of apprehension that you see in the eyes of animal that is trying to decide whether it can run without you attacking its backside. The impulsive fear of what happened just before he passed out has merged directly with Sans's regular thoughts, and it means that his first moment are completely irrational.

His tail whips out, cutting a long tear in the blanket that was covering him, and the boney spikes along his spine lengthen, as they do in the rare moments that Sans has completely lost control of his fight or flight. His scary eye is the only one glowing at the moment, and its even stranger than usual, with a long slit of gold down the middle in a bestial kind of way.

Of course, there isn't much room on a cot to pull the kinds of moves he is at the moment, so one of his feet slips over the edge as he tries to right himself, sending the small skeleton falling onto his butt.

Immediately after that, both New and Times jump him, sniffing him and whimpering in their best attempt at calming him, blue fog coming from their mouths in the approximation of a lick.

"---Or maybe you're sleep-fighting," he corrects himself, rising to his feet.

Papyrus recognizes the signs of fear and readiness to lash out, sure. Likewise, he notices the increasingly pointy and aggressive glow, too, and tucks the detail of that new thing away for later pondering. But those have no place in the context of the brothers' dynamic, not to mention, he notices the way Sans manages to trip over his own feet and fall on the floor. This is somebody who's waking up and disoriented.

So while the dogs clamber all over him, sniffing and whimpering and fogging at him, Papyrus peers over them with the increased height of his increased feet. He offers his own best attempt at calming: acting like everything is normal, chatting in that conversational and slightly condescending-but-kindly way.

"Are you awake now? The fighting stopped yesterday, you're behind the times!! Join the rest of us in the present moment, now is 'recuperate in the medical tent' time. It's very popular."

Having an empathic connection to his dogs helps a bit, at least. He can feel their concern and their affection, and both help him to remember the full context of what's happening. He remembers getting blown up by that blue fire kid, but not much after that. Though the idea of Papyrus being near still feels somehow appropriate, too...

He pants roughly, trying to calm himself down. Feelings of relief and safety fail to reach him, and even as he's soaking in the sight of his brother, he's finding this all so hard to believe.

And then... then he feels the crippling weight of something he's lost. A feeling of loss that simultaneously fills him with disgust and self loathing. He clenches his fists together, slowly leaning forward and closing his eyes as things start to balance. He wants to throw up. He feels so ashamed.

Times rests their head on his shoulder, making quiet dog noises, while New looks around as if they are vicariously expecting something to jump out at all of them.

"We actually got out," he manages, finally. It's less a question and more a dazed statement of fact.

As Sans goes through a journey of strong expressions, Papyrus considers what to do. Should he sit down, join the pile of cuddling bones? That one dog looks so nervous, and alert, and neither of them is welcoming him like one of the dogs usually does. Was that the one...

"Of course we did," he says, trying for calm confidence, because of course things worked out okay, don't they always? Eventually, somehow? They got out, but so many of the people who were taken were so changed by it all. Maybe Sans is one of them, for all that he's not a vampire. Papyrus' tail twitches with nervousness he doesn't want to admit to feeling.

"It wasn't easy. A lot of people were taken. It took some preparation, and planning, and more time than anybody liked. But it turns out the Ringmaster..." He trails off, not sure how best to describe their escape, or what ultimately let them escape. "Well, she's scary."

He huffs out a breath between his teeth, which is basically a laugh, or something attempting to be one. His tail curls around him, and he carefully brings up a hand to rest on Times's head in affectionate acknowledgement. At least that much seems to relax Times a little, though New is still distracted with surveying the environment on Sans's behalf.

"Knew that much already," he says, and it's like he's trying to put some humor into it but he just can't, and the absence of it is all the more glaring. He stares into space for a few moments, before slowly looking up to meet his brother's eyes.

"Did you... get everyone?" he manages, hesitant to even ask. He doesn't know what happened to most of the others after he got taken out of the prison cell, and things had gotten...

Yeah.

"...Ah."

Ordinarily, Papyrus really wouldn't be the best one to ask for info like that. Not with how much difficulty he has, telling people apart until he gets to know them, nor with how many people there are here. The unique, distinguishing features of their transformations are only so useful; the transformations are ongoing, after all.

But this is an unusual time, where he's sat around listening to the radio chatter for hours. He is in the loop on this stuff. The only problem is the answer he's got to give. With how hesitant his brother is, asking, Papyrus wishes he had a better answer to give. Especially with how... subdued he is.

"...Very nearly. One person went missing. And it doesn't seem like anybody knows where she was..."

Sans shivers, and starts fumbling with the clothes that had been left on his cot for him, now spilled over onto the floor with the rest of the blanket. The more he remembers, the less he wants to sit here naked. The feeling of exposure is getting worse by the minute, and he can't stand the idea of anyone looking at him like that, even his brother.

He stars pulling on the t-shirt, too clumsy to do it very quickly or neatly. He looks like his head is in a total fog when he asks...

"Who was it?" On one hand, he knows a few people it couldn't have been, then. The 'she' gives it away. Yet, there are still a lot of shes that he's worried about, even if he should be grateful that they managed to save as many people as they did.

He keeps getting dressed, no longer making eye contact. Times gives Papyrus an imploring look, too.

The grabbing at clothes reminds Papyrus of his brother's naked state, and he politely looks away. Not too far, just enough that he's not watching.

"Mmm... Mari," he admits. It's strange, talking about the possibly-deceased. "A nightrider. Or maybe the nightrider? It was a very indefinite indefinite article."

The way the one dog is looking at him... Yeah, he's feeling pretty unhappy about everything in this conversation too, pup. Maybe it'll help if he gives pets? Worth trying, and he reaches down to scratch at its skull.

Times seems to appreciate it, leaning into to the pets. With Sans back, and conscious, there is less to be constantly defensive about, though Sans mental state is hard to miss for a familiar. Just after Sans manages to pull on his shorts, Times crawls right into his lap, which is a bit awkward since Sans is small and Times is a big dog.

Sans doesn't push them off, though. He stays quiet for a while, thinking that over. It's not like Mari is one of the people he be most worried about being lost in a foreign environment, but... The feeling is weird and unwelcome.

"Right," is all he manages. It's hard not to revisit the humiliation of the way they'd found him, over and over in his head. He doesn't look at Papyrus either.

"Thanks for coming to get us," he adds after a delay. It feels obligatory. "That... was bad."

He's too shellshocked to know how to add any humor to this.

What an excellent domino chain of comfort. Papyrus providing the dog with comfort, the dog providing Sans with comfort... or at least trying to, which was the important thing! With these thr---these two here, also helping, Papyrus wouldn't need to choose between his carnival job and his familial job.

"It certainly was. Really, going to help was the least I could do. After I first failed to rescue you..."

Papyrus wipes at his skull, which somehow got a little sweaty in this conversation, and glances away himself. Without Sans leading the way with bad jokes and obfuscation, it's somehow harder to know how to proceed here. Especially with such a difficult, painful topic, where dwelling on it won't do anybody any good... but, he thought, they weren't just not saying things anymore. What was he supposed to do?

What a question. Be himself, of course.

"Well, that couldn't stand! Much better that you be here, where it's much less bad."

Actually saying thing. Right. What a novel concept. He's having an especially difficult time with it at the moment - while usually he chooses not to say things, right now he doesn't feel like he even can. He can't think of any words. It's too painful.

Papyrus had no hope of rescuing him in that initial situation, and he could say as much. But does he really want to minimize his brother's agency like that? He doesn't know.

"Is that... demon kid alive?" he asks, hesitantly. He remembers chewing on him a few times. "I don't remember anything from, uh... after my head exploded, I guess."

He sounds like he's going to leave it there, but then something else rolls through.

"Look, I should have said something about that spell sooner. I didn't... I guess I didn't think it'd blow up in my face like that."

A first sad attempt at a joke. He tried. He hates feeling like he's leaving Papyrus hanging.

It's awful, and it's morbid, and it reminds them both of things they'd rather not think about, but... Papyrus can't help but snort, and grin for a second, anyway. Not least of which because the joke is a sign of normalcy, or trying, which is really just as important.

"To your first question: yes, everybody else got back alive. Everybody!" Like he said before, but maybe it's hard to follow along so soon after sleeping so long. One irritation-free repeated answer per fight coma. "If the demon kid is the one who stabbed th--your head... then yes. Rin's fine."

He moves back into his chair while he gives Sans a chance to take that in, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"I still haven't wrapped my head around it. That was you in the woods! What kind of spell gives you a second body around your body??"

Sans looks at Papyrus, sort of baffled for a moment. Then, his grin cautiously widens. Papyrus has always been blessed with the ability to misinterpret just about anything.

"It was shapeshifting," he clarifies, with the vaguely academic tone he gets when he legitimately tries to explain something, usually in small doses. "It's just that it takes a lot more dust to make a monster that big, instead of a monster this big." He gestures at his diminutive self. "So, when I don't have enough magic to maintain it anymore..."

He shrugs a shoulder.

"What's left over turns to dust, and what isn't turns back into me."

It's a gift, and a curse. Nonetheless, Papyrus nods along to Sans' explanation, understanding enough to get that Lambert's idea of the whole situation had been more accurate than his own... and one inescapable detail.

"So, I was walking around in your dust... That's pretty disturbing." Walking in anybody's dust was bad enough, but it was to get Sans. And, he'd figured, if the giant wolf could come back from the dead once, it could surely do so again.

"Does that happen every time you shapeshift? I don't know if I can handle... sweeping all that up. Or just disposing of the dust like it's any other mess. But how do you have a funeral, if the person's still alive? What a conundrum."

Papyrus loses track of watching Sans' expression, too busy talking to himself about these important questions.

Edited 2017-03-29 02:18 (UTC)

"Yeah, actually," Sans admits, putting his fist to his mouth as if he's coughing awkwardly. He's sort of gotten over it by now. It was pretty eerie the first few times, but he's since come to regard it more scientifically than emotionally.

"It usually just kind of... blows away or something. When I do it in the woods." Which he has, plenty of times. He pauses, his thoughts flashing back to when the vampires has shot him the first time, and then when Rin had put a blade through his skull. As Papyrus is distracted, Sans starts to look and feel sort of dizzied. He puts as hand to his skull as New bumps their nose against him in concern.

"It was... a pretty bad idea. All of this."

It's taking some time to sink in, but there it is. Even though he's theoretically safe, all of this still happened. And there's no excuse for it.

Edited 2017-03-29 04:00 (UTC)

Puzzling over those questions makes him miss his brother's dizzy spell, New's concern. But that tone of voice, that admission, those stand out too much. Papyrus peers at him again, knowledgeable enough to be suspicious.

"All of... what? Tousling with vampires, sure. But, I suspect... that's not what you mean."

If he means all of this, being in the Carnival at all, then... Will Sans try to go back, home away from all this, and risk losing his memory of all this stuff in the time loop?

Papyrus shivers, and readies himself to put on a brave face if his brother says anything like that. It might take a lot longer, but somehow he'll find a way. Even if it's just him searching!

It's both not what Sans means and is also sort of what he means, simultaneously. Mostly, Sans is confused and increasingly frightened. Blue tinted sweat is already forming on his skull, making it more obvious than it would have been otherwise, and he keeps running his hand over the surface of his skull in some kind of nervous gesture.

Even though he just got up, he feels kind of like passing out all over again. Anything that would let him avoid this feeling for just a bit longer. But Papyrus is here, and he can tell Papyrus notices and expects something to be wrong, but...

His arms move to wrap around his chest, like a full body cringe at something he's imagined. Or remembered.

"I gotta go check on something," he says weakly, a half formed excuse which comes across more like a plea. He feels like he's starting to break down, and he desperately doesn't want to do that here.

"What? Right now? Um, okay..." Papyrus glances around them, noting where his things are. Nothing essential, nothing he can't come back to get, when Sans looks like he might teleport out of sight the moment his brother really turns away.

He pushes himself back to his feet, and tries to smile reassuringly. At least the height difference between them is back to normal, that's... something.

"How about, I come with you? Two sets of eyes are better for checking on... things."

"That's cool," Sans will wheeze, only really managing to get up with the support of the two dogs that are getting up with him. They whimper in confusing and concern, sensing the stress in their master's mental state. It's difficult for a dog to process.

He wants to teleport, absolutely, but his magic still feels unfocused, and he's so damn tired. He more or less just ends up teetering out of the tent in a daze, not so much walking with Papyrus as he is just wandering away without objecting to Papyrus following.

As soon as the prying eyes of the central carnival are gone, Sans starts to crumbled completely. He staggers back down onto his knees, his arms wrapped around his rib cage, a hand pressed over his mouth. His bones start shaking worse, and he doesn't have anything he can say.

The dogs are intent on helping shield Sans from the world, or maybe Sans is intent on hiding from the world and they're helping. Either way, Papyrus barely starts to offer a hand before they're hobbling up and out. He follows a short distance behind, looking around and listening for some hint of what exactly they're checking... and they don't get all that far.

"S-Sans..." He crouches down, reaching a hand to rest on his brother's shoulder. Collapsing and rattling, in the open like this... If Sans did this back home, it was more in the privacy of his own room.

"Would you like to be somewhere else? Like, your trailer? Or mine??"

Lambert isn't in there all that often either, and he'd probably leave if it was an emergency. Which, this might be.

His head is starting to swim, which actually makes him more cooperative than he might have been otherwise. He's not capable of over thinking this when his thoughts are just starting to scream with wordless anxiety and shame.

He doesn't know where he's going or how to get there. So when Papyrus asks, he nods numbly, staring straight ahead like he's barely recognizing that his brother is there.

"Yeah."

New looks up at Papyrus and circles around to stand beside the younger skeleton, nosing at Sans's shoulder. Apparently they would be eager to do this themselves if they were more bipedal.

So they would. Well, at least that offers an idea of how Sans has been getting along, without his supporting and inspirational brother around. The dogs following him around instead, tugging him out from the worst situations.

"That was a yes to a question where, yes wasn't really an answer," Papyrus starts to say, complaining reflexively, before remembering the current situation. "Uh, but that's okay! I suspect you'd like to go to yours."

He wraps an arm around Sans, available for holding, leaning on, or even being picked up with. Just like particularly roudy nights at Grillby's, and carrying his hungover brother home. Just like that. Except with vampires and hell and temporary comas.

They better figure out some way to fix the time loops back home, because the occasional thought that they might not are awful. Sure, as Papyrus he can simply brush those ideas back to the needlessly doubtful depths where they belong, but the fact that they keep rising in the first place...

Sans interacts with Papyrus's attempt to support him like he doesn't really know what limbs are for. He tries to stand but falls weak at the knees, nausea filling him as he turns himself around and clutches at Papyrus's arm as if he's desperately hanging from some kind of precipice.

"Ngh..." The spines raise beneath his shirt again, and the fingers of his grasping hand will crack as they abruptly grow longer and sharper. His whole body is tense, and his tail thrashes with the flood of anxiety.

"God," is all he can manage, and there are tears at the edges of his sockets. "Oh god."

Papyrus jolts at the sudden cracking sound and scratching of claws on his arm, looks and stares at they visibly grow. That sounds and looks painful. The crystals grew over a few hours, and they itched something fierce for a day or two. Speeding up that feeling, he doesn't particularly want to imagine what that'd be like.

"H-hey, Sans? Are you with me?" He pats his brother's arm with his spare hand, crouching down to see him better. "Is this... your spell? There's no need for that, is there? You're already tired out."

Sans gaze finally levels on Papyrus face, and the lights of his pupils seem to focus for a moment - enough to take in what's actually happening. Papyrus's words are the only thing that clue him into what's actually happening, what he's actually beginning to do... it catches him off guard, and he pulls his cracking hand away from his brother's arm, clutching it close to his chest.

He's never done this by accident before. The idea only panics him further, with memories of what had happened before. The idea of taking on that form and losing his mind are too closely wound, and he can't separate them. It terrifies him.

"Sorry," he manages, back to shivering. "I didn't... meant to. She..."

His shoulders shake with a sudden sob, and it arrives so suddenly. He hates what he's feeling as much as he'd hated those iron chains.

"She's dead," he reminds himself. "She's dead."

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