After getting suckered behind the Pit Bull and knocked unconscious in order to become the perfect vampire buffet, Maurice did't think his day could get much worse. He was wrong. Mostly. He woke up in a daze--bloodless, a fractured soul, one hell of a hangover. It had been a hot rainy day and with the cloud cover, the fledgling stumped his way through the woods the murder had stashed his body behind without .
He never saw the hole.
But he thought the snow falling upwards around him looked like stars and he hung onto that disjointed thought as he plummeted down into the chilly underneath. Was he dying? Probably. He kind of expected it. He wasn't sad--not exactly. Just frustrated that he never did get that kiss.
There was a POMF sound as the newly dead man landed in a large snowdrift near an iced over lake.
The sound wasn't exactly quiet, even if muffled. It was enough to catch the attention of a short, stout skeleton.
Normally he only did the bare minimum required of his sentry job, and this was no exception. It wasn't as if he expected to find a human or anything. He just figured that one of the dogs had been trying to build its long-necked snowmen...snowdogs? Ah well. It was worth leaving his post, Sans decided, since he was bored anyway, and he'd long since run out of ketchup to guzzle.
He might just invite the dog--probably Lesser Dog, if he's being honest--to Grillby's with him. Anything to take a break.
What he did not expect, of course, was to see a decidedly bipedal creature in the debatably man-sized crater he'd formed in the snow with his landing. At the velocity he'd have to be going to make that big a hole, the guy had to be dead or hurt badly.
Still, Sans leaned in, hands in his pockets.
"That's weird," he said nonchalantly. "Hey buddy. You okay?"
The skeleton's voice seeped into Maurice's skull like pancake syrup. Slowly but surely. The world still spun for him and he ached in many places.
And now he was cold.
Really cold.
A disheveled and frantic man dressed in a mechanic's uniform complete with hat burst out of the hole like a groundhog and scrambled against its edges, only dragging more snow into the little pit he'd made. It was cold. It was cold cold cold!
"Ooooh no! OH no oh no! I'm in Hell!"
He'd heard that Hell was cold from drama class. Welp, he couldn't say he was surprised.
Well...it made for an amusing display. Sans rocked back onto his heels, watching the weirdo scramble about.
"Yep. You're in Hell. We're havin' a long winter," he said as if it was the most serious thing in the world. His grin was definitely not serious. "Y'know, it's easier if you don't flail around like that, bud. Unless you wanna stay six feet under or somethin'."
Sans had no idea how apt the description was. To him, it was all a joke.
Inasmuch as he could joke. He hadn't seen this guy before. But then...was he human? He looked somewhat human, but humans didn't just fall into Snowdin's outskirts like rain. At least...he hadn't heard of that.
Maurice stopped pawing at the ground when he noticed the shoes. He followed them up a pair of bony legs and stopped at the horrible empty eyesockets of DEATH HIMSELF.
"Oh..." Something inside the young vampire withered and died. "I guess...that's it then."
Sans pops a squat in the snow, deciding he ought to be more sensitive. This was definitely no monster, and even if he eventually had to turn the guy over to the king, he didn't have to be an asshole about it all at once. And Undyne didn't need immediate reports.
"It's not really Hell, I was pullin' your leg, friend. You're, uh. Not from around here, are ya?"
If Sans was supposed to be Death, he was doing a poor job.
The dead man's eyes had already glazed over the way a cat's does whenever it's been shoved into some kind of cutsey overpriced pet outfit and then expected sit upright for photos.
"No...I. I'm from Texas." Maurice's words were hollow. The rest of him was slowly catching up. "There was a girl and...it all went dark. I have a headache." He gingerly touched his forehead and sure enough there was one hell of a lump there. He rolled his eyes upwards and tipped back his hat to look up into the void from which he fell. "And there were stars..."
His eyes landed back on Sans again. He squinted and tilted his head. He instantly regretted it because that made his head throb.
"Are you sure this isn't Hell? Because you...look an awful lot like a dead person."
"Never heard of it," Sans said plainly. His skull did tilt in slight confusion though, and the corners of his grin sank slightly. This sounded pretty serious. Maybe the guy had taken a crap trail on Mount Ebott and ended up stuck here after all. While Sans couldn't say much for the particulars of this guy's story, he did feel a little sympathy.
"Anywho, you're a short walk from Snowdin. It's the furthest you can be from Hell at this altitude." Or lack thereof. "Also, I'm not dead. Just a good lookin' funnybone."
He would have to prove how funny he was soon. This guy seemed like he needed it.
"So...y'wanna get up outta the snow? You're lookin' a little blue."
"Snowdin..." Maurice repeated the town's name even as Sans still spoke. Snow started to collect on his shoulders as he listened. There was no way this guy was just A Skeleton. But what he said brought the panic right back out in him because when Maurice looked down at his hands he found that they were in-fact turning blue.
"Oh man..."
The fledgling finally hauled himself up out of the pit he'd made and started breathing on his hands. But no hot air would come out. He'd stopped making body heat like two days ago.
"OH GOD! I need a hospital!" Would a dead person know where a hospital was?!
Sans backed up, giving Maurice a wide berth. He wasn't about to get smacked to death by a hysterical human. Human? Yeah...there weren't monsters upstairs, right?
"Hey, calm down buddy," he said loosely. "There's no point freaking out, we'll sort ya."
Skeletons don't necessarily need to breathe, nor do they have obvious body temperature. Also, monsters don't bleed as much as dissolve into dust. For better or worse, Sans doesn't see what the big deal is right now.
"C'mon, Snowdin doesn't got a hospital, we're pretty peaceful down here and the closest place to service you is a long ways away."
"I CAN'T CALM DOWN I HAVE HYPOTHERMIA! Or is it hyperthermia? I don't remember." He rubbed his hands together furiously. "This isn't working!" Maurice took a few unsteady steps and fell to one knee. He was Texan, he had no idea what to do in snow.
"If you don't stop freakin' out, I'll have to do somethin' you won't like," Sans said with a shrug. "...Also it's hypothermia. Hyperthermia is fever. I dunno what's up with you, bud, but you ain't got a flush to your skin.
So, uh. In my professional opinion, you're more dead than me."
There was a vague feeling that he probably wasn't helping, but Sans, while not a doctor, was a scientist. Once upon a time. He was just being real with the guy.
Maurice stayed on his knees in the snow. His hands were buried in it. And he wasn't shivering. His body had no reason to try and warm him back up.
Sans was right. He was dead as a door nail.
"She hit me harder than I though..."
It was then that he finally took time to really look at Sans. He was standing up and talking to him and making faces in a way. He wasn't threatening in that he was a spooky scary skeleton he was threatening in how silly he looked but still happened to exist. Right there. He was standing right there talking to him and trying to help.
"I'd say. She knocked the life right outta you. Whoever she was."
Sans is taking this pretty well, and although he's making the faces--inasmuch as he usually ever does change his grin to suit purposes--he is sort of confused. And when Sans is confused, that's a serious thing.
Only one cure for it.
"You're dead. Sorry. 'Least you're still technically alive though, right? You gotta still have a SOUL. Maybe that's worth somethin' to ya, yeah? C'mon. Get outta the snow, man. I'll take you to Grillby's. It's warm there."
...Look. It's where he goes to deal with shit. Maybe it'll help this guy too.
"'Sides. You can't stay out here forever. Someone'll happen across ya that isn't as down-to-earth as me." Translation: I don't want my brother to see you until I determine your intentions.
If he could talk and walk he could probably eat. Grillby's sounded like a place where you ate. Maurice pushed himself upright again, adjusted his hat, and brushed the snow off of his knees. He had to stare at the skeleton's face a little longer. Man there was just nothin' there. How could he read his expressions? Maybe it was a dead people thing?
"Least I didn't land on nobody today--that's one thing I got right. Thanks, Mr. uh...?"
It's the smile. It was able to change subtly enough to convey emotions, so Maurice wasn't crazy to see them. Hopefully he'd never see the expression fully drop. That would be a bad time.
"Sans. Good to meet'cha. Sorry about your fall, but glad you didn't land on me. That woulda been unfortunate."
The skeleton holds a hand out to shake. So very innocent. It's nothing to be afraid of, buddy.
Maurice extended his own hand. He was dead. How much worse could it get? Before he took hold in the proper introduction shake, he found himself staring at the intricate bones and being partially mesmerized by how they all moved with nothing to move them.
He still wasn't entirely convinced Sans was not, in fact, Death. He was there when he died. He was a skeleton. He even had a hood! Even thought it wasn't up.
"Maurice. I was a mechanic." He finally gave in and shook a greeting.
Sans allowed Maurice to get a good look at his empty palm, but just as they were about to shake, a quick sleight of hand...and there it was.
The worst gag, or in Sans' opinion, the best gag; a whoopee cushion handshake. The whole thing was...probably really awkward, considering that he'd just been telling Maurice to calm down and considering using some blue magic on him, but Sans would be remiss not to try out some humor. It worked for him.
"Sorry, man. Couldn't resist a good joke," he admitted. "Mechanic huh? That's pretty interesting."
A sudden loud noise was the last thing Maurice expected and so, naturally, he let out a good scream. But once his brain registered what he'd actually heard along with the skeleton's apology, he couldn't help himself.
He started laughing. Despite being dead, in pain, and really really confused, you couldn't just NOT laugh at a fart.
Maurice wiped at one eye with a chilly hand.
"Thanks I...I think I needed that. This can't be Hell." He moved to follow Sans, still struggling with the snow even in his heavy botos. "Yeah...don't suppose you got any cars that need fixing? I got...all the time in the world now."
That sure...was a response. Sans laughed as well, though it was more attributed to the fact that Maurice had run the gamut on reactions there. It was pretty amusing, and being thanked for having a sense of humor wasn't the usual for him. So he's not sorry about what he did.
"No problem, man. I've got the jokes around here," he said lightly, turning to start leading the way. It wasn't going to be a long walk, the snowy outskirts west of Snowdin were hardly expansive.
"We don't really got cars here. But I'm sure we'll figure somethin' out for ya. Maybe you can pick up a sentry job, or be a regular jack of all trades. I dunno.
What I do know," Sans continued, and he emphasized to make sure it was clear as crystal, "is that if you're a human, dead or not, you're gonna have to keep a low profile unless you wanna end up in a bad place."
Sure, he wasn't all about sticking his neck out for anyone all that much, but he also wasn't going to send a guy who was apparently dead to his "boss," who would in turn pass him to the king for soul extraction. Not cool, man.
"Don't sweat it though. I'm sure stuff'll work out."
Every dog was an important dog. Like Sans, they were affiliated with the Royal Guard. Maybe he'd get to explain that, but he'd rather not do so right now.
He does give a chuckle when Maurice asks if he's human. Wow, that's a good one.
"'Fraid not, bucko. I'm not human, even if I got a similar bone structure. I'm a monster, everyone in the Underground is, and if they're not, they're usually dead.
You'll fit right in, heh."
He could probably explain it better, if he weren't so dang lazy. Explaining was hard, made harder still if there was no impetus. Such as an actual detailed question.
"Monsters..." His brows met in confusion and he stared at Sans again. But he was a skeleton! Sure, a short and squat one, but a skeleton! Fit to hang in a science class room or some Halloween junkie's front yard.
"What kinda monsters? This isn't making any sense! Why are there monsters in...in...wherever dead people go? Man, I need a drink."
"Uh, this isn't where dead people go, man. It's just where monsters got banished," Sans clarified. He paused and gave a sideways glance to the only dead human he'd seen walking around in quite a while. Specifically ever.
"Sorry it's not making sense. If you want a drink though, Grillbz will hook you up, buddy. I'll have him put it on my tab."
See, although Sans did enjoy condiments, he hardly went to a pub for ketchup all the time. And even though he held his friends at arm's length, what could it hurt to have another acquaintance?
Maurice picked up his pace just so he could walk abreast with Sans and tell him how WRONG HE WAS. The dead man was slowly but surly moving away from quivering fear and gloomy defeat and into frustration territory.
"I'm a dead people!" He threw his arms in the air. "Apparently!"
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theattic2016-03-02 12:51 am
CHILLY DOWN
He never saw the hole.
But he thought the snow falling upwards around him looked like stars and he hung onto that disjointed thought as he plummeted down into the chilly underneath. Was he dying? Probably. He kind of expected it. He wasn't sad--not exactly. Just frustrated that he never did get that kiss.
There was a POMF sound as the newly dead man landed in a large snowdrift near an iced over lake.
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Normally he only did the bare minimum required of his sentry job, and this was no exception. It wasn't as if he expected to find a human or anything. He just figured that one of the dogs had been trying to build its long-necked snowmen...snowdogs? Ah well. It was worth leaving his post, Sans decided, since he was bored anyway, and he'd long since run out of ketchup to guzzle.
He might just invite the dog--probably Lesser Dog, if he's being honest--to Grillby's with him. Anything to take a break.
What he did not expect, of course, was to see a decidedly bipedal creature in the debatably man-sized crater he'd formed in the snow with his landing. At the velocity he'd have to be going to make that big a hole, the guy had to be dead or hurt badly.
Still, Sans leaned in, hands in his pockets.
"That's weird," he said nonchalantly. "Hey buddy. You okay?"
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And now he was cold.
Really cold.
A disheveled and frantic man dressed in a mechanic's uniform complete with hat burst out of the hole like a groundhog and scrambled against its edges, only dragging more snow into the little pit he'd made. It was cold. It was cold cold cold!
"Ooooh no! OH no oh no! I'm in Hell!"
He'd heard that Hell was cold from drama class. Welp, he couldn't say he was surprised.
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"Yep. You're in Hell. We're havin' a long winter," he said as if it was the most serious thing in the world. His grin was definitely not serious. "Y'know, it's easier if you don't flail around like that, bud. Unless you wanna stay six feet under or somethin'."
Sans had no idea how apt the description was. To him, it was all a joke.
Inasmuch as he could joke. He hadn't seen this guy before. But then...was he human? He looked somewhat human, but humans didn't just fall into Snowdin's outskirts like rain. At least...he hadn't heard of that.
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"Oh..." Something inside the young vampire withered and died. "I guess...that's it then."
He looked around at the snowy banks.
"Hell has...an awful lot of pine trees."
His chin sank down to the snow.
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Sans pops a squat in the snow, deciding he ought to be more sensitive. This was definitely no monster, and even if he eventually had to turn the guy over to the king, he didn't have to be an asshole about it all at once. And Undyne didn't need immediate reports.
"It's not really Hell, I was pullin' your leg, friend. You're, uh. Not from around here, are ya?"
If Sans was supposed to be Death, he was doing a poor job.
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"No...I. I'm from Texas." Maurice's words were hollow. The rest of him was slowly catching up. "There was a girl and...it all went dark. I have a headache." He gingerly touched his forehead and sure enough there was one hell of a lump there. He rolled his eyes upwards and tipped back his hat to look up into the void from which he fell. "And there were stars..."
His eyes landed back on Sans again. He squinted and tilted his head. He instantly regretted it because that made his head throb.
"Are you sure this isn't Hell? Because you...look an awful lot like a dead person."
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"Anywho, you're a short walk from Snowdin. It's the furthest you can be from Hell at this altitude." Or lack thereof. "Also, I'm not dead. Just a good lookin' funnybone."
He would have to prove how funny he was soon. This guy seemed like he needed it.
"So...y'wanna get up outta the snow? You're lookin' a little blue."
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"Oh man..."
The fledgling finally hauled himself up out of the pit he'd made and started breathing on his hands. But no hot air would come out. He'd stopped making body heat like two days ago.
"OH GOD! I need a hospital!" Would a dead person know where a hospital was?!
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"Hey, calm down buddy," he said loosely. "There's no point freaking out, we'll sort ya."
Skeletons don't necessarily need to breathe, nor do they have obvious body temperature. Also, monsters don't bleed as much as dissolve into dust. For better or worse, Sans doesn't see what the big deal is right now.
"C'mon, Snowdin doesn't got a hospital, we're pretty peaceful down here and the closest place to service you is a long ways away."
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So, uh. In my professional opinion, you're more dead than me."
There was a vague feeling that he probably wasn't helping, but Sans, while not a doctor, was a scientist. Once upon a time. He was just being real with the guy.
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Sans was right. He was dead as a door nail.
"She hit me harder than I though..."
It was then that he finally took time to really look at Sans. He was standing up and talking to him and making faces in a way. He wasn't threatening in that he was a spooky scary skeleton he was threatening in how silly he looked but still happened to exist. Right there. He was standing right there talking to him and trying to help.
Or something like it.
His head hurt so much.
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Sans is taking this pretty well, and although he's making the faces--inasmuch as he usually ever does change his grin to suit purposes--he is sort of confused. And when Sans is confused, that's a serious thing.
Only one cure for it.
"You're dead. Sorry. 'Least you're still technically alive though, right? You gotta still have a SOUL. Maybe that's worth somethin' to ya, yeah? C'mon. Get outta the snow, man. I'll take you to Grillby's. It's warm there."
...Look. It's where he goes to deal with shit. Maybe it'll help this guy too.
"'Sides. You can't stay out here forever. Someone'll happen across ya that isn't as down-to-earth as me." Translation: I don't want my brother to see you until I determine your intentions.
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If he could talk and walk he could probably eat. Grillby's sounded like a place where you ate. Maurice pushed himself upright again, adjusted his hat, and brushed the snow off of his knees. He had to stare at the skeleton's face a little longer. Man there was just nothin' there. How could he read his expressions? Maybe it was a dead people thing?
"Least I didn't land on nobody today--that's one thing I got right. Thanks, Mr. uh...?"
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"Sans. Good to meet'cha. Sorry about your fall, but glad you didn't land on me. That woulda been unfortunate."
The skeleton holds a hand out to shake. So very innocent. It's nothing to be afraid of, buddy.
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He still wasn't entirely convinced Sans was not, in fact, Death. He was there when he died. He was a skeleton. He even had a hood! Even thought it wasn't up.
"Maurice. I was a mechanic." He finally gave in and shook a greeting.
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The worst gag, or in Sans' opinion, the best gag; a whoopee cushion handshake. The whole thing was...probably really awkward, considering that he'd just been telling Maurice to calm down and considering using some blue magic on him, but Sans would be remiss not to try out some humor. It worked for him.
"Sorry, man. Couldn't resist a good joke," he admitted. "Mechanic huh? That's pretty interesting."
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He started laughing. Despite being dead, in pain, and really really confused, you couldn't just NOT laugh at a fart.
Maurice wiped at one eye with a chilly hand.
"Thanks I...I think I needed that. This can't be Hell." He moved to follow Sans, still struggling with the snow even in his heavy botos. "Yeah...don't suppose you got any cars that need fixing? I got...all the time in the world now."
The smile started to fall back off his face.
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"No problem, man. I've got the jokes around here," he said lightly, turning to start leading the way. It wasn't going to be a long walk, the snowy outskirts west of Snowdin were hardly expansive.
"We don't really got cars here. But I'm sure we'll figure somethin' out for ya. Maybe you can pick up a sentry job, or be a regular jack of all trades. I dunno.
What I do know," Sans continued, and he emphasized to make sure it was clear as crystal, "is that if you're a human, dead or not, you're gonna have to keep a low profile unless you wanna end up in a bad place."
Sure, he wasn't all about sticking his neck out for anyone all that much, but he also wasn't going to send a guy who was apparently dead to his "boss," who would in turn pass him to the king for soul extraction. Not cool, man.
"Don't sweat it though. I'm sure stuff'll work out."
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That meant guard, right? Who needed to guard anything here? What was here? A bunch of trees? A...dog house? Was it a really important dog?
But then something the skeleton said stuck out to him and Maurice stopped walking.
"Of course I'm human...aren't you? I mean, yeah, you're a skeleton, but so am I on the inside."
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He does give a chuckle when Maurice asks if he's human. Wow, that's a good one.
"'Fraid not, bucko. I'm not human, even if I got a similar bone structure. I'm a monster, everyone in the Underground is, and if they're not, they're usually dead.
You'll fit right in, heh."
He could probably explain it better, if he weren't so dang lazy. Explaining was hard, made harder still if there was no impetus. Such as an actual detailed question.
...Nah, Sans is just that lazy.
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"What kinda monsters? This isn't making any sense! Why are there monsters in...in...wherever dead people go? Man, I need a drink."
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"Sorry it's not making sense. If you want a drink though, Grillbz will hook you up, buddy. I'll have him put it on my tab."
See, although Sans did enjoy condiments, he hardly went to a pub for ketchup all the time. And even though he held his friends at arm's length, what could it hurt to have another acquaintance?
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"I'm a dead people!" He threw his arms in the air. "Apparently!"
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