He had one ace in the hole here, the gift from the Ringmaster that's been securely around his neck this whole debacle. It's purpose was straight forward - it could deflect a single, lethal attack each day. He'd only had to use it once before, to protect against a void creature that had attacked him while he spied on the Penthouse, but it seemed like a good fit. Sans's strategy wasn't to soak damage, it was to avoid it.
One hit could make all the difference with him. Here, though - this isn't one hit. It's done with a killing intent that Sans had never anticipated, and it's all over the place. While the scarab necklace dutifully springs to life, warding off the very beginning of the assault, he already knows it won't be enough. He can sense his own death on the horizon, just as clearly as he had for any lost soul back in Portland.
Maybe he could have teleported away, in the time the scarab bought for him. But, the thing is... it could protect him from the shrapnel, but it didn't protect him from the toxic dust created by it. His world starts sinking into something paralyzingly dark before the pendant's protection has even given out. When it does... it almost seems like it will be a relief.
The soul knows. It's the monster species' greatest weakness. There's no way he can be meant to survive such vicious killing intent from his own brother.
He feels the emotional pain more than he feels the physical part. He doesn't even really know what happens to his body, after the strikes, though on the outside it's more clear - bones peppered into dust by sharp edges, leaking bright blue ectoplasm along side. The lack of floor or walls means that he's just left floating when it's finished, the worst wounds already starting to break apart and disintegrate, as all monsters do.
His remaining hand clutches at his face, one pinprick eye still focused on Papyrus as everything falls apart. He's practically numb with despair. The light of his wings and halo flicker and go out, releasing into a faint gold aura around the two of them.
"M-Maybe you're right," is all he can manage, before willfully letting go.
no subject
One hit could make all the difference with him. Here, though - this isn't one hit. It's done with a killing intent that Sans had never anticipated, and it's all over the place. While the scarab necklace dutifully springs to life, warding off the very beginning of the assault, he already knows it won't be enough. He can sense his own death on the horizon, just as clearly as he had for any lost soul back in Portland.
Maybe he could have teleported away, in the time the scarab bought for him. But, the thing is... it could protect him from the shrapnel, but it didn't protect him from the toxic dust created by it. His world starts sinking into something paralyzingly dark before the pendant's protection has even given out. When it does... it almost seems like it will be a relief.
The soul knows. It's the monster species' greatest weakness. There's no way he can be meant to survive such vicious killing intent from his own brother.
He feels the emotional pain more than he feels the physical part. He doesn't even really know what happens to his body, after the strikes, though on the outside it's more clear - bones peppered into dust by sharp edges, leaking bright blue ectoplasm along side. The lack of floor or walls means that he's just left floating when it's finished, the worst wounds already starting to break apart and disintegrate, as all monsters do.
His remaining hand clutches at his face, one pinprick eye still focused on Papyrus as everything falls apart. He's practically numb with despair. The light of his wings and halo flicker and go out, releasing into a faint gold aura around the two of them.
"M-Maybe you're right," is all he can manage, before willfully letting go.