lostcarnival | ⇨ INVASION!

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⇨ INVASION!

Who: Everyone! But especially HARBINGERS!
When: S2:D16-22
Where: All over Wismuth!
What: As the Harbingers reveal themselves, those among the carnival that Creation has chosen will start to discover new powers within themselves. It's because they're magical girls, yo.
Warnings: Harbingers being assholes.

HARBINGERS OF VOID↴

On Day 16, the Harbingers begin revealing their new selves... in the form of wreaking havoc on the city! CY-Ren isn't looking for mass panic or serious structural damage - instead she wants constant annoyances and distractions, of the sort that will keep those that might be on her tail distracted from her true plans. However, when Creation is faced with the threat of twelve new Harbingers, it will have to fight in kind...

► HARBINGERS: Your job is to use your powers to create messes for other people to clean up! CY-Ren gives no specific instructions outside of a general framework... flex your powers! See what you can do. Don't destroy the city or anything, but give Creation a run for its money. She needs these civilians alive for her later plans.

► STAR GUARDIANS: Twelve members of the carnival have been chosen by Creation to fight in its name, even if they don't realize it yet. When confronted by the Harbinger's chaos, their Sparks will make themselves known in whatever form is appropriate to the character - and they will be asked if they are willing to use the power of their soul to fight the darkness. How this scene plays out can be flexible, but essentially they will find themselves faced with the question: are they willing to fight for the preservation of life? If they say yes, their Spark will emerge, and they will be able to trigger a magical girl transformation, as you do.

► CHARITY CONCERT: While everyone else is busy with the sudden rise of the Harbingers, CY-Ren's PR team is releasing a statement -- they will say that new information has revealed that there had been bomb threats made against the canceled concert, which are now being blamed for the damages. CY-Ren will make a personal statement, saying that in order to apologize for the failure of her previous performances, a new free to attend event is being planned for the near future - people who had tickets to the previous event and had to go home early get top priority!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sans has found himself defaulting to what he usually does when he doesn't know what he can actually do - watching things. For the first few days he spent a lot of time staking out CY-Ren's penthouse, and when he started catching heat for that... well, he basically kept snooping, but from further away.

He know he'd probably be more use back at the carnival, but he can't bring himself to leave. He can't act, but he can't turn away either. It inspires a crushing anxiety that he's not sure he'd be capable of dealing with if it weren't for the comforting presence of the triplets and Helvetica.

And when reports start coming in of captured people showing up on the streets again, but changed? It's a familiar tune. He's seen this enough times, from enough angles, that he doesn't know how it could surprise him anymore. He doesn't know how it can still hurt.

He decides not to waste time being emotional. This means, not too long after Papyrus's TV appearance, Sans goes from zero contact to straight up jumping him in the streets. Get ready for a surprise teleport dive bomb from a certain Warden. He's going for a grab, attempting to straight up dump his brother into one of his portable holes.

On the one hand, the whole TV appearance thing worked exactly as he planned! Papyrus got plenty of attention from Wismuth locals, distracted a few of the carnival folks, and sowed plenty of seeds of dread and curiosity for what the Harbingers would do next.

On the other hand, he's gotten the attention of a few of the carnival folks. Some of whom have been chosen by the force of Creation to defend the pillars of this reality, and were ready and willing to call him out and have super-powered fights in the streets. Loud announcements of their intent, flashy transformation sequences, and arguing. Nobody died, havoc and destruction were wrought, and maybe he did a little bit of fleeing to keep working... But, all in all, a familiar kind of fighting.

He sure didn't see his brother coming.

"What--???" he manages to yelp as he's grabbed. It's too much an abrupt surprise to react to besides twisting and flailing out his limbs, hoping to knock himself free.

Edited (leaving it more up in the air for combat potential, but he's grabbed. dat 3) 2018-03-06 08:00 (UTC)

Luckily for Sans, but doesn't need to do anything besides get in that first grab. A dimensional hole opens up beneath the two of them, and as abruptly as Sans first appeared, he drags both of them into it. He's just as quick to seal it closed once they're on the other side.

These pocket dimensions are pretty straight forward - just an empty expanse with unclear limits, filled with only the air that rushed inside when the portal was open and vague ambient light. This would be more of a problem if they weren't a pair of skeletons that don't actually need to breathe.

Sans's problem now is that he can't really get out either unless he opens the portal again. So, for now, he just does what any good brother would do, and immediately tries to sting Papyrus in the spine with his tail.

Apparently he's just bypassing the diplomacy stage altogether.

Edited 2018-03-06 16:04 (UTC)

One of the big advantages of being a skeleton - and sadly lacking the impressive musculature he would surely have, if he had flesh - is being a much smaller target than his height implies. Bones are narrow enough, tricky to hit. At least as long as they're working without videogame rules; his hitbox would be easy to hit.

Papyrus flinches back, a dusty red bone spawning to block the incoming tail before he even realizes what's attacking him.

"Oh my god! Sans, what are you doing?" He exclaims, readying another tainted bone to hand. "Are you possessed?? I don't think anybody has berserker-inducing powers..."

His expression, his tone, they're almost normal of him. If it weren't for his new look, and the way he's using the Void powers for defense, instead of pinging one of them back with a blue attack... Would anybody be able to guess something's amiss?

That uncanny sense of normalcy is enough to make a guy lose his nerve. The plan he had coming into this would suggest that he should just keep trying until he can disable Papyrus enough to bring him back home, and that's the plan that Sans had been psyching himself up for over the last couple hours. Don't bother with talk. Just isolate, immobilize, and worry about heartfelt pleas later.

Papyrus's reaction makes it almost impossible to follow through - not least because the phrase 'are you possessed?' is at least triggering enough to him by now that for a moment Sans can't help but wonder: is he possessed? He's been convinced he wasn't possessed a number of times now when that objectively wasn't the case, so who's to say he isn't wrong this time, too?

Overwhelmed with that baffling feeling of unreality, Sans pushes Papyrus away from him, leaving them both to float in the mostly gravity free environment. It's going to take him a little bit to bounce back from that one, and it shows on his face.

"Uh," he manages, without any words prepared for the occasion. "No? Pretty sure that's you."

Sans being possessed has happened enough times that it's the first conclusion Papyrus leaps to. The Prince is gone, as is that vampire lady... But he didn't go around the penthouse polling everyone on their new powers. After all, almost nobody knew yet, not until they'd gotten in the streets and gave it a go. So there could very well be someone instigating violence by spreading blinding anger. And hitting Sans with it... would be an excellent way to take out his insightful observations! Papyrus would have done the same, with the thought and the appropriate power set!

...While they're at it, using his own powers to take Sans out of the fight would be even better. But some part of him is still holding out for the hope that the Void will reach out again, and pull the others into the fold so they don't need to fight. Maybe if they just talk a little.

"Ohhh," Papyrus realizes, with a sheepish little laugh. "Right. I mean, I can see why you'd think that... Why else would the Great and Terrible Papyrus be going around, doing... slightly villainous things, after all? But! That only goes to show! You didn't look very hard. Not a person was hurt by my methods, I think you'd find."

Not exactly true. People falling unconscious in the streets, literally falling, could come to several kinds of harm. But he didn't directly cause or see it happen, so that's the same as it not happening... Or, maybe, the way it's going to end soon means it doesn't matter. There's some contradictions in his ideas of whether hurting people is okay, and he's vacillating minute by minute, adding 'terrible' to his appellation like it's always been there.

Sans can't think of any time he would have been possessed recently either, and him and Helvetica already witnessed Papyrus zombie walk away from them at the concert. He has to take a moment to reassure himself - he's not crazy. This time, he's not crazy. If he starts questioning reality like this, then he's going to totally lose it.

Still, the shaken up feelings linger. Especially when Papyrus is still acting so normal, besides the little things. Like calling himself 'the Terrible' for instance. He'd like to bring out Helvetica for some help being analytical about this, but he doesn't want to risk any more soul touches so soon.

"We saw it happen, bro," Sans says uneasily. "At the concert. You walked right into Helvetica, trying to get to that music... we couldn't find any of you for days. Doesn't that sound familiar?"

It sounds super familiar to Sans, and that fact has been eating him up inside since this started. It had been a while since he really witnessed it from the other side.

"The... concert," Papyrus echoes, frowning like he's just run into someone whose name he forgot, and mutters to himself. "The concert... We weren't at the concert together, until... the music...? Oh, the call," he says, like it's in a special color, a key word hinting at the plot.

The memory of the call is stronger, more important, than the thing Sans is talking about. The revelations didn't drown it out, or cause Papyrus to forget it, or anything... they just put it in perspective, as one of so many hurts recently dredged up in his memory, hardly outstanding among them. But it is particularly recent, and probably inexplicable to anyone on the outside. His brother must still be hurting from it, and worried, if he's been thinking on it all this time.

"I remember, it's more than familiar. But, possession... Isn't that when there's something in you, controlling you?" He tilts his head, trying to draw attention away from how he's shifting his fingers, adjusting his grip around the void-touched bone. "There's nothing in me but me."

It's funny, because the Void is nothing, the call to nothingness. But he's also pretty sure that all the information of the revelation was just putting together the pieces he already had, realizing it himself, agreeing to the call. It was painful, but how could it not be? CY-Ren's organized them a little bit by force, but only because some people kept bickering. And here he is, doing nothing toward their goals, and it's fine! No compulsion to attack his brother here! So it's not mind control. Just an unfortunate resemblance.

"Then how'd you get all the new magic?" Sans asks. He's trying not to be super confrontational, because it doesn't really seem like it would help at this point. However, while he's having a hard time trusting his own perception at the moment, he knows what the others have said and learned from Noa. Their souls are corrupted by the void, even if it's in a kind of roundabout way.

"If you're taking power from something, it's a part of you. You're letting it mingle with your magic, and you gotta know that could mess with your head, right?"

He feels like this isn't going to work. No matter what he says, Papyrus can think of up excuses - hell, he does that all the time normally, about perfectly mundane stuff. What's his next move? He's gotta figure it out before Papyrus makes his move first.

"That... does seem to follow, logically," he admits, slowly, like he's thinking it out. His free hand drifts to rest on his hip, while he taps a couple fingers on the bone on his hand. A deliberate thoughtful pose, more than half for show to convince Sans to keep peacefully talking while Papyrus starts something.

He remembers being possessed, and this isn't like that. That was his body, moving without him, even as he saw and heard and felt what happened with it. Emotions welling up in reaction to strange things, welling up in strange ways. The immediate certainty that the skeleton - the angel - could wreck him, and needed to be taken out. That kind of thing.

Right now, in contrast, is just him, with his new certainties and mission. Plus, pangs of fresh pain, seeing his brother now. So wary and alert, tragically clinging to the barbs of life... If only Sans hadn't taken on the pains and responsibilities with the carnival, if he had just kept hiding from life, in jokes and pranks and sleeping it away... Wouldn't it be easier now?

"That's how new magic works? Anything we learned from the Ringmaster, it's... in us? And could mess with our heads?" Papyrus asks, doing his best to sound confused, curious, as he stops tapping on the bone, and rubs a finger back and forth on it. With a push of the void's powers the bone softens, and the friction lets loose a slight cloud of dust. In this strangely floaty place... The dust should float, and carry with it a sense of peaceful tired contentment.

"Well... yeah," Sans says, a little bit confused, and genuinely so. It's disturbing to the consider the idea of the Ringmaster messing with their heads too, and even the concept gives him a sinking feeling. But... if she was going to manipulate people, surely she could be more effective at it? There was a reason Sans had been initially wary and ashamed of having asked her for so much power. He'd worried about things like this.

Why had he decided to go for it, though? Maybe that everything else seemed worse in comparison. He's not sure anymore.

It seems like it matters less at the moment, though. He's too distracted with thinking about all of this to notice the odd little gestures that Papyrus is concealing, and so any sleepiness seems like a natural byproduct of this whole situation being exhausting. He sort of forgets what he was talking about.

"It's the same, it's just... if you can trust the source or not." Which, doesn't actually prove things one way or the other, he realizes. God, he's got to make a move here, but what?

"The Void wants all of us dead," he tries, like his reasoning for why that's a bad thing should be self explanatory.

Thinking back, it's certainly the case that she's influenced them. Even outside the question of magic powers; the various changes of feline features and the growths of stone that come just from being with the carnival... Why would changes to their bodies stop there?

Especially since he made that side bargain about death, giving a little piece of his soul into her hands.

...In hindsight, would she be able to do other things with it? He should ask somebody about it. And mention it to CY-Ren, if they need a way to track the carnival. Childermass said he could make tracking spells, right? But that's for later.

"Everyone and everything," Papyrus agrees, with a gentleness that shouldn't come from somebody who's working on the Void's behalf.

"Even me, in the end. It's not personal, or cruel, it's just... We can't let this keep going. The world is broken, and hideous, and... the source of all pain." The dust continues to spread out around then, a thin and faint cloud. Enough to carry some power.

"You understand, brother, don't you?"

Geez. He's really the wrong guy to have to debate someone about this. He's never really been a standing testament to the idea that life is worthwhile, has he? There's no question why Papyrus's question sounds so pointed, at the end. He's calling out Sans in particular, because he does understand.

It's just... he knows what's fair. This isn't fair. He presses his palm over his eye socket, trying to think.

"Doesn't matter," he says, wearily. "You don't get to make that choice for other people."

It's like Mari said; people don't want to admit these things, even when they know it. They'll wriggle around, find whatever excuses they can grab at. Papyrus sighs, disappointed. 'Lazybones' was never really the word for his brother, was it? 'Contrary' is more like it. Whatever cause Papyrus is pushing, somehow there Sans is, opposing him.

"You let me decide before," he points out, and it's not as kindly and gentle. Biting, frustrated. "When you were hurt, and couldn't decide things for yourself... It's the same thing now. I can't stand idly by while... while people suffer."

"I'm not talking about me," Sans insists, as if that makes a difference somehow. As Papyrus becomes harsher, Sans becomes more pleading. He's not really the type to beg, most of the time, but he most deeply feels the desire to escape this situation. He isn't as emotionally ready as he hoped he'd be.

There are some pains that can't be so easily washed away with the promise of easy contentment. These days, Sans only wishes it was that easy. As things become more tense, he finds himself straining to match.

"But... is that what you want, now? For me to just stop existing because it'd be easier than looking at me?" He can't keep his own note of bitterness from his voice, there. The feeling that he is just generally being an inconvenience by being alive is a pervasive one. "Then why don't you just do it? You've got me here, don't you?"

Papyrus' hand clenches on the bone, hard enough his fingers dig into the dusty construct. The accusation stings, because there's truth in it that he never admitted before. Something Sans should never have realized, much less called him on it.

It's exactly the kind of horrible thing that Papyrus learned, in relentless detail, about himself in the void.

And it would be easy. Simple. Focused, in the way the Void wants. His brother is right here. Forcing him into hallucinations, then a sleep too deep to wake from, and then finish it... mingling the different kinds of dust together...

"I don't want that! Not... being alive when you're not, or killing you. That's horrible." Papyrus shudders, because it's vivid and true and yet, and yet. There's something clingy in him, still.

"I thought, if anybody would understand, you would? That you might... come with me? And, if not, then..."

Then. His hand tightens a little more, the bone crumbling in his hand, no longer subtle and controlled. He's too busy confessing to gather it back.

Not being alive when you're not. That's something. That's another thing that Sans can deeply understand. Does dying at the same time really make it better? He's not sure. There's a lot of stuff he's not sure about at the moment.

"I dunno if I can get it the same way you do. I'm not... on the same thing you're on, bro," Sans says, and how skeptical he seems is ambiguous. He watches the bone dissolve itself, and gears in his head rustily start spinning, bogged down by everything else going on. Unfortunately, he didn't see the stuff that made it super obvious what Papyrus's powers were. The dust has yet to click as being something incredibly dangerous, though he's getting there.

Why does he feel so woozy, all of a sudden? Being casually tired is sort of his schtick, to the point that two separate people bought him a bed during solstice, but he should really be more wound up than he is. His eyes all blink, heavy and out of sync.

"So... now what? What..." His gaze finally catches on the cloud of thick dust coming from the remains of the bone. Some things starts to make sense. "What're you doing to me, here?"

"Huh? I'm not doing anythi-- Oh," Papyrus realizes, looking down at the evidence all over his hand. The bone must have been softer than he intended, or something.

He is getting the sense that Sans can't so easily fall in line. That Papyrus can't simply pull anybody into this understanding. That it's completely up to the Void, who gets this gift of resolution. And, working in this flawed, terrible world, of course even the Void's methods are flawed and unfair. Some of the others have friends or family, changed into 'familiars' with a fraction of the same power, accompanying them with an eagerness to help. Papyrus? Alone, unpopular, and brushed out of planning anything. Unimportant.

Tyki was probably right. CY-Ren's plans were created without any knowledge who would be chosen, what their particular talents would be. They're just aids to provide distractions, and be where she can't.

He should at least be happy with his success, now that nobody's stinging each other, or preventing the plan from moving forward, or taking Papyrus hostage in the carnival to be pitied by the ignorant... And he is, a little.

"I'm putting you to sleep. I was... So we could talk, later! Without you attacking me," he clarifies. "But then, we talked now? Really talked, more than I expected. ...I'm not sure what to do next."

Maybe a few minutes after Sans is knocked out, a few without emotional whiplash or accusations, will be enough for him to figure it out.

It's really hard to feel passionate about opposing this, both because life is depressing and because Papyrus seems so genuine about it. Not to mention, the whole thing where he's being magically lulled into complacency probably isn't helping at all. He lets those words sink in, and then shakes his head more vigorously.

His angelic wings appear, a sweep of their feathers both blowing the dust away from him and moving him further away from Papyrus. He feels sort of drunk.

"No, look... That's it. I'm putting my foot down. Stop it," he slurs. "I'm not into this. I'm not really feeling it."

His angelic aura seems to be helping to clear his senses a little, but slowly.

"Can you give me a break, here? I don't wanna wake up on your dungeon or something..."

"I don't even have a dungeon," Papyrus protests. Where would he have one? In the penthouse? It's entirely too high in the building for that. Unless the humans of Wismuth have very different building regulations.

But, as intriguing as the local zoning laws might be, he's getting caught up with inconsequential nonsense. Which would be fine, if it was distracting enough people. But here and now? It's just Sans.

...In a strange place, with no ground, no gravity, and no apparent exit. If he handles this badly, would Sans get away, and leave him trapped here? That would be even worse than being stuck back at the carnival.

"And that's not important! Stop distracting me." Papyrus exclaims, then forces himself to calm down a little. Spreads his arms imploringly, trying to draw Sans' attention back to him - look, his hands are empty of bones or fresh dust, nothing to attack with. They're still just talking. "The important thing is... Well, I could try to ma-- help you understand what I'm feeling! So you feel it, too. Then you can decide, yourself."

Probably Sans would protest if Papyrus frames it as making him do anything, considering. And... he's not completely sure if his powers work like that. But they do offer influencing emotions, pushing specific sorts of hallucinations, and so on. It might work.

The profound weariness on Sans's face in response to that offer is clear, and not just because Papyrus was just trying to drug him with magic dust. He's still testing his eyes, blinking them heavily in an effort to stay focused, but right now taking a nap would be so much easier than dealing with this shit.

"Bro... You know I really don't want to get my head messed up again," he says, exhaling slowly. He can't see any way out of this that isn't a confrontation. "That just sounds like it'd be asking for it. As much... as I know you want me to understand right now."

This is stupid. He already knows, from experience, that there will probably be no convincing Papyrus of anything when he's like this. Sans doesn't know the objective truth, but he knows that giving up on people like this isn't what his brother has been about. Basically ever.

"You never would have given up on everyone like this on your own. That's supposed to be my schtick, right?"

Please, please just go back to being normal.

Papyrus can see it in his brother's face, before he even talks. Polite refusal, but still refusal. And that pitying way of trying to talk him around... It's as awful as he'd thought it would be.

He drops his arms to his side, slouching. A picture of disappointment. And casually tucks his hands behind his back, behind his cape.

"But I was on my own," he says, softly. Explaining with words, or maybe confessing away the last of his own hesitations. One last shot, while he prepares to fight his brother. For real. For the... first, only time.

A bone forms in his hand behind his cape, held carefully vertically. Deeply red, sharper than usual, and filled with pain. Dust from it - even broken off by colliding with a skeleton - should conjure memories of injuries, of breaking things in anger, of grief and loss. Maybe even strong enough memories to be lived through. It's not as gentle as he'd hoped to be, but... they don't get what they want.

"Completely on my own. Nobody came to push me around, or talk me to a different view, or anything. It was all me, and nothing else. Remembering my life." He's facing Sans, but his eyesockets fix a little away on memories. "All the things you got, and I didn't, and... unable to hide from it. The way I usually do."

Sans has no idea what Papyrus can do, yet. Not besides some kind of sleep related magic, which much have a more cohesive theme, because sleeping sure as hell doesn't seem like what his Spark would be based around. Unless it was a passionate hatred.

Sans spreads his wings, steeling himself. His aura thickens, projecting inner strength to the outside, getting ready for when an attack inevitably happens. He knows it's coming but he doesn't know in what form it will be. He can't guarantee he'll be able to dodge it.

The weight of angelic judgement fills the air as Sans holds himself aloft, looking at Papyrus, visibly heartbroken.

"Please don't do this," he says quietly.

His feelings on sleep have turned around a lot, lately, thanks to Sans. He's gone from hatred to conflicted to begrudgingly grateful; they're a lesser evil. A lesser, necessary evil. Merciful, compared to other things. But sleep's merely a mechanism for delivering dreams where the dreamer won't hurt themselves, walking around and making mistakes. Blissful ignorance.

Something he doesn't get to have anymore, anymore than he gets to go without that look on his brother's face. He doesn't want to do this. He isn't even sure, yet, what he's going to do. Hurt him, obviously. Kill him...

"What else am I supposed to do, walk away?" Papyrus asks, defensive and irritated about it, and he spreads an arm to encompass their dim and nearly featureless surroundings. It's just them, and the dust slowly spreading.

His fine control with his bullets would let him fling ordinary bones at his brother without hurting him as much as he pleased... but does that extend to these powers, which he's still figuring out? Oh, he really doesn't want to have that extra pain weighing on him through the end of things. He wants to go back to the penthouse, laughing and plotting with Carly.

"Y-You brought us here. Give me an out, if you want to stick around hurting for the rest of time."

"I don't have an out," he says, the rush of fear and anticipation enough to sharpen his senses again. "If I let you do this... I'll be gone. I kinda promised myself I'd try to stay alive."

It hurts more than he can say, having Papyrus essentially telling him that he'd be better off dead. That they both would be. He has to believe this is all something his brother will regret later, if he ever gets the chance.

He doesn't want to strike first anymore. Let him keep that one off his conscious. Or maybe he just lost his nerve.

"You take me out... there's nowhere to go, either. You're gonna have to live with it, bro."

⇨ INVASION!

Some Combination of Things

bye papyrus

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