video (forward-dated to 1/24); but i can't sleep until this is done

[skelebro]

[The whole world is ending.

Or something like that, he's guessing. Everyone's panicking, everything's burning, and people are running around like Icecaps with their hats off. Chaotic is a word for it. Amusing is another. Either way, there's a skeleton on your video feeds now. He looks just like the skeleton a lot of you are bound to know, save for maybe the look in his eyesockets. It's not the typical world-weary apathy that's more reminiscent of good old Sans. It's more like there's just an emptiness, bleak and cold. But even that's pretty hard to gauge; it ain't like the reading of skeletal facial expressions is common talent down here. Though the, uh, rather sizable crack in his skull, netted just along the ridges of his left eyesocket, might be pretty indicative that this ain't the same Sans.

From the angle of the video, it's clear that he's standing outside the charred remains of Tranquility's temple. He's got plenty of Faith that the decor will be perfect for the tone he's going for.

He looks pretty happy.

There's something very liberating about having reached The End. A number swells, and then it increases. And the last piece slots into place, the last sliver of anything resembling remorse boiled off and burned away.

It's not long now. But he's got one last task ahead of him before, at least, he and his ilk find their much-awaited sleep.]

So I've got a question for ya.

[His tone is a neutral, rumbling drawl, utterly placid and philosophical.]

Did anybody here really buy that innocent, bumbling comedian shtick?

[He opens a hand. A thin white trickle of something hisses out between his phalanges, rattling to the ground in a grainy patter of falling motes. He waits until the last of it whispers to the ground, softly, before flicking the last of it from his fingertips and continuing.

It's dust. Three guesses as to the monster it belongs to.]

Well, what can I say? I'm here to bring forth some revelation. Anybody stupid enough to buy that little act of his...

[He grins, wide - wider. No, w i d e r. And his sockets go pitch-dark, until it's like staring into a pair of black holes. A glacial bite creeps over his tone, razor-thin, the edges filed off, almost like there's something jagged and seriffed curving along the tips of the words.]

Allow me to prove you wrong.

[There's a low, dark chuckle, and the feed cuts out. He's looking for a FIGHT all right, and he won't be sated until he gets it. So come down to Tranquility's in fifteen minutes if u want an ass kicking. "Sans" here is delivering, and will continue to do so right up until his time is up.]

[[ooc: responses will come from fibia! Feel free to action things up so you can drag this edgelord to hell and back lol he deserves it.]]

Comments

[fibia]

I'm not talkin' about what he's capable of on an emotional scale.

[He snaps his phalanges. Something behind him - it ain't real clear what - crashes into something else, and there's the sound of stone crumbling into stone. From the spray of debris and powder behind him, it's clear that he's just damaged something fairly vital to a building's structural integrity.]

Ain't like he hasn't hurt people before. It's just that nobody's done a damn thing about it.

[Until now.]

[sunsetsitter]

Sorry, man. I've got someone like a brother out there that can keep people in their own corpses, trapped and suffering.

[She misses her little hellchild and his punchghost.]

Hell, the last guy I sort of did a favor for tortured a pacifist in his own home because he didn't believe in war. I hate that guy. But sometimes you gotta go along with things to get stuff done. At least Skello 1.0 sounds way more likeable than that asshole...

I mean, I guess I'm just trying to figure out what the real point is?

[fibia]

The point is to prove that anyone who's content to let him wander around like he's some kinda harmless comedian is a damn stupid thing.

[Not that he sounds really fussed, truth be told. That joking note in his speech is dulled into something well anticipated and rote. That's just his prerogative.

Ain't like he can feel a thing with all this LOVE gathered about him. But that's just fine. For the best, honestly.]

[sunsetsitter]

I don't think anyone's arguing that how people view others is usually pretty damn stupid. But seriously, murderer of a good friend and role model jacking off in the other room. Doesn't get much stupider than that.

[Hoo boy she hates that she's accepted that. Also get prepared for some super serious reasoning.]

It's just... You're kinda a dick? Not to me so far, you've been an alright conversational partner as far as things go, but in general, right? It's in your nature, or whatever. So you're a dick saying dickish things about a guy that doesn't go around acting like a dick despite the fact that he is capable, emotionally and physically, of doing things like a rock-hard cock. But, like...as far as I can tell -- using what you've said -- at the moment he's pretty flaccid. What's the harm right now?

[fibia]

[The real Sans...has no memory of this person. Or an explanation as to why she is saying the things she is saying. He's kinda a dick, is he? A truth he's well-accepted - you don't drop a building onto a toddler and then encourage said toddler to ERASE themself from existence without coming out a dick. But that's par for the course. Nothing the real Sans ain't capable of in his own right.]

It's nothing he ain't capable of. Nothing he wouldn't do.

[As for the harm right now...well, you heard that building go boom a bit back.]

[sunsetsitter]

Right right right. But it's you, the dickish double, saying as much. If you guys in general were a little more chill, I might not resist passing judgment so much.

[Or she would anyway because she just likes talking and is tired of harm coming to people. Who knows!!]

And again, he's not doing it right now. I've got no skin in general, but if I did it wouldn't be in this game, you know?

[fibia]

Heh. Pal, judgment is kinda my thing. His thing.

[Their collective...thing. And if you turn this into a wang joke SO HELP ME]

So he ain't doing it right now, sure. By virtue of having contracted a tiny, fatal case of - death. But see, ain't he done it before? He'll do it again. And no one's done a thing about it.

That seem right to you?

[sunsetsitter]

[gonna assume frottage jokes are off the table Awh, dude's dead. That's a bummer.]

My dude, here's the thing. Death and all things related aren't usually about fairness. I mean, I'm a teenager who got blown to bits by an explosive left around on her planet that never took a side in the war that made it come to be. I knew a fuckton of dead kids, and most of 'em were younger and deserved it even less. That sure as hell wasnt right. Why should this be any different?

[fibia]

'Cause the people here are all self-righteous hero types who're the sorts to do something about it.

[There wouldn't be such an active City Guard if that weren't the case. Plenty of nobly heroic pricks to go 'round, and plenty to try and tear him to pieces.

Didn't say it was rational, now, did he?]

[sunsetsitter]

Ah, there we go. Really getting to the bones of it, now, aren't we?

[Despite the joke and the fact that she should be satisfied at progress, Izabel's voice switches to something a little more dull.]

Kinda a boring reason, in my humble opinion. Was it ever about him?

[fibia]

[He chuckles. He's still a Sans, after all, and he still loves him some horrible, horrible puns.]

How 'bout this? It can be about...whatever you want it to be.

[He accompanies the exaggerated words with a jazzhands-esque wiggle of his phalanges, rattling them appreciably just to lighten the mood up some.]

[sunsetsitter]

[Neat rattle. Another day she might appreciate it.]

Huh. Anything to make me feel better, anything to rile me up... If it can be about anything, then it's really all about nothing, isn't it? Guess hoping all this was about more than senseless chaos was a little much.

[fibia]

How's it supposed to make sense?

[He laughs, and regards his fleshless hand snidely.]

I don't even have nerves.

[Ba dum tssh.]