When Joker first told Papyrus of Sans' promotion, Papyrus had been a nervous but hopeful jumble of bones. He'd been helping his brother with work credit for that very goal, after all... But he'd expected any promotion to come at the end of one of these cycles, with time for them to whisper some manner of plan before being taken to the sleeping cells. Instead he'd been separated abruptly, and even when he did reappear, he'd avoided everyone.
So when a couple days passed, and a few others got promoted and none of them seemed to make contact either, Papyrus initiated a conversation with his brother. Was this some kind of Manor or Harbinger situation, he'd asked, or was Sans just working hard? And Delta-701 had replied brusquely and impersonally, directing the zeta - by designation - back to work. With the visor covering Sans' eyesockets there was no way to tell if he'd winked a signal, and he certainly hadn't done anything as obvious as nod his head. There'd been no clue, and that was frightening enough on its own.
But, unpleasant as it was, it was fine because Papyrus could hold out hope that Sans was doing as Papyrus had encouraged him to do - work hard at stuff he was better suited to, like thinking and snooping and keeping secrets, gaining enough trust to find something useful.
And then it wasn't so fine, because technicians had brought Papyrus to a trials room for something much more complicated than a check-up... And he'd seen Sans among the anonymous figures monitoring him. Not slouched and miserable, but standing and attentive, talking - answering questions, probably - as they put Papyrus through a lengthy process that coated all his bones in some metallic substance that felt not-quite-him, but also part of him in some new ineffable way. Something he could hardly feel as separate, thick enough to muffle sensations from the rest of the world. It was strange and uncomfortable, though not painful, and...
And his brother continued not to approach him, not to talk to him. And that seemed to settle it. If the Prince of the Manor, an angry controlling hunter of a beast, could twist peoples' anger into obeying his will... If the Void, an emptiness resentful of existence, could twist people into fear and disgust at everything they'd ever loved... then it made sense that the Mother of Invention, a distant scientific researcher, could twist people into complete dispassion. Just like Sans had rebuffed him, without any of the old troubles or fears showing up. All signs pointed to Sans being gone, for the time being.
So when Papyrus sees his changed brother silently standing there staring, when everyone's in the beginning of the escape plans, he holds his hands up placatingly.
"Uhhh, I'm just.. on my way. To where I'm supposed to be. Don't mind me, Delta... whatever your number is?" He winces a little, because that doesn't sound like a person who's being attentive to the instructions of the technicians at all, but what else can he do if his brother is about to sound the alarm?
-future- tags won't match, but i needed to set myself the tone a bit too
So when a couple days passed, and a few others got promoted and none of them seemed to make contact either, Papyrus initiated a conversation with his brother. Was this some kind of Manor or Harbinger situation, he'd asked, or was Sans just working hard? And Delta-701 had replied brusquely and impersonally, directing the zeta - by designation - back to work. With the visor covering Sans' eyesockets there was no way to tell if he'd winked a signal, and he certainly hadn't done anything as obvious as nod his head. There'd been no clue, and that was frightening enough on its own.
But, unpleasant as it was, it was fine because Papyrus could hold out hope that Sans was doing as Papyrus had encouraged him to do - work hard at stuff he was better suited to, like thinking and snooping and keeping secrets, gaining enough trust to find something useful.
And then it wasn't so fine, because technicians had brought Papyrus to a trials room for something much more complicated than a check-up... And he'd seen Sans among the anonymous figures monitoring him. Not slouched and miserable, but standing and attentive, talking - answering questions, probably - as they put Papyrus through a lengthy process that coated all his bones in some metallic substance that felt not-quite-him, but also part of him in some new ineffable way. Something he could hardly feel as separate, thick enough to muffle sensations from the rest of the world. It was strange and uncomfortable, though not painful, and...
And his brother continued not to approach him, not to talk to him. And that seemed to settle it. If the Prince of the Manor, an angry controlling hunter of a beast, could twist peoples' anger into obeying his will... If the Void, an emptiness resentful of existence, could twist people into fear and disgust at everything they'd ever loved... then it made sense that the Mother of Invention, a distant scientific researcher, could twist people into complete dispassion. Just like Sans had rebuffed him, without any of the old troubles or fears showing up. All signs pointed to Sans being gone, for the time being.
So when Papyrus sees his changed brother silently standing there staring, when everyone's in the beginning of the escape plans, he holds his hands up placatingly.
"Uhhh, I'm just.. on my way. To where I'm supposed to be. Don't mind me, Delta... whatever your number is?" He winces a little, because that doesn't sound like a person who's being attentive to the instructions of the technicians at all, but what else can he do if his brother is about to sound the alarm?