just gotta ignite the light and let it shine

[whattaprick]

Who: Everyone who's stupid enough to show up for this, because legal drinking ages are for people from a different century/planet.
When: Afternoon/Evening, Day 30
Where: Lakeshore
What: Local Carnival workers get wasted and set off fireworks by the lake.
Warnings: Carnival shenanigans, ie. booze, drugs, and people getting set on fire probably. Put any tag-specific warnings in your headers!

So, Wismuth happened.

Lambert's pretty willing to bet a good chunk of the Carnival is pretty happy to act like Wismuth didn't happen, but he also doesn't really care about what sorrows people are drowning or not tonight: he knows he needed this drink, and after he'd slept off the immediate exhaustion that came with running around Wismuth for nearly two weeks with the power of Creation more or less constantly burning through him, he's ready to something, anything to feel like himself again.

Fast-forward to the lakeshore. There's a huge bonfire going, a box of assorted fireworks that's been 'liberated' from wherever the hell engineering keeps their supplies, and probably a crate of wine that's going to disappear sooner rather than later. Anything else, someone's going to have to bring themselves.

[ ooc: This is a mingle log! Bring your own entertainment, food, questionable substances etc. ]

Comments

[spaghettimonster]

The experiment is a success; Papyrus cries something that might be "months!," and dabs at his eyesockets with his scarf as trails of tears get past his chin. Especially once that question sinks in. Then he nods sorrowfully.

"Well... Yes. I did. When I was," he gestures, ambiguous shapes that don't imitate or draw anything in particular. "You know. Terrible."

[whattaprick]

"You killed Sans?" Lambert says, a bit too loudly and incredulously. That's something that doesn't square with his knowledge of either of the brothers in any way whatsoever. It's impossible to imagine Papyrus even killing some hapless animal.

"Well, that settles it," he says, decisively. "We're getting Sans so you can make sure he's not missing anything. Come on."

And without waiting for Papyrus to affirm, he's already weaving his way back to the trailers and tents, staggering a little from the effect of the alcohol.

[spaghettimonster]

It's nice that it's difficult to believe of him. Reassuring. Because from here even Papyrus can hardly believe that he did. But he just can't appreciate Lambert shouting it out to the world like that...

"Wait, what do you mean?" Papyrus wonders, hopping to follow after. "Don't tell me you're going to break into his egg...! That's probably illegal."

Kind of like killing each other is illegal, but extenuating circumstances like mind control by ancient and powerful forces like the Void absolve one of guilt. Very short term and mundane things like getting drunk... doubts those carry any such protection at all. "And... dangerous?"

[whattaprick]

"What?" Lambert squints at Papyrus in confusion, then shakes his head.

"Nothing like that. We're just going to bring him out here, let him hang out. Like..." He pauses, squinting and crossing his arms. He's not so drunk he's clumsy and slurring, but what he still has as far as physical coordination goes he makes up for in rambling trains of thought.

"I heard ... I heard herbalists talk to their plants to make them grow faster. Maybe he'll grow back faster if people talk to him, too." He nods sagely, then belatedly adds, "Or pour a drink over him, or something."

That works, right?

[spaghettimonster]

The notion that flowers grow faster if they're talked to... presents some unsettling questions about echo flowers, questions that Papyrus doesn't want answers to. But maybe he'll have someone check on Waterfall after they bring the barrier down. Make sure the flowers don't grow too fast.

He shakes the thought off, and does his best to follow Lambert's reasoning.

"You're talking about... bringing his egg? Egg with Sans, not Sans sans egg?" Papyrus manages to ask without stammering, like inebriated tongue twisters are easier when you don't have a tongue.

"The egg is a big seed... And he needs words of encouragement, and a little alcohol, to help break out of his shell--oh!" Papyrus gasps. "I never knew that could be so literal! Wow!"

[whattaprick]

"That's me, literal," Lambert agrees, not ... entirely sure he said or implied all of what Papyrus attributes to his words, but hey, whatever.

More importantly, Papyrus seems engaged now, which Lambert takes as a sign that he's clear to start moving again, walking towards the tents again.

"Now come on, we don't have all night."

[spaghettimonster]

"A literal wordsmith!" Papyrus chirps, a spring in his step as he follows Lambert. It's not the same as Sans being properly there, but it's something, and maybe it'll even help.

"How long do we have? Do eggs have curfews...?" He wonders, rhetorically. Papyrus sober is entirely capable of rambling tangents spun from stray words, and he is no longer sober.