video; what's gonna be left of the world if you're not in it

[skelebro]

[Sans has something in his hands. It's a bolt of fabric that he runs between his metacarpals with a distant, unfocused precision, something to idly turn between his phalanges as he speaks. Might take a moment to realize that the backdrop to his video ain't the typical one. It's not his room he's sitting in, after all. He's reclining atop a racecar bed. The sheets are perfectly made, as though the owner were planning on returning at some point. On the bedside table, there's a small stack of belongings that clash rather astutely with the layout of the place. A snowglobe, a binder, an ECHOcomm, and at the very far right of the frame, a folded-up sweater vest.

He dropped in to visit some pals of his, you see. Only to find they ain't around anymore.]

For those of you who knew 'em, seems the docs've gone home. You know the ones. Newt and Hermann. [A pause.] Dr. Gottlieb.

[Being a pain in the coccyx suddenly gets to be less funny when there ain't anybody to yell at you about it, huh?]

Hope it's home they went, and not, uh...wherever it was before they got here. Yao know what I'm talkin' about.

[He folds up the cloth in his hands and stands up, grinning at the camera without a lick of despair. Maybe there's somethin' a bit tired to the whole facade, but who can say? He's always tired.]

I hate to tell ya, but it looks like my bro might'a been the guy to slack off for once. Funny, right? Takin' that hard-earned title from yours truly. Here I thought I was supposed to be the guy who nips off without a word.

[Those with sharp eyes might pick up that the cloth ain't just any old thing. It's Papyrus's sash delineating him as an official member of the City Guard - twice torn, twice mended, and now without an owner. Like hell Sans is cut out to wear a thing like this.]

'Pologies to the Guard. Looks like you're one member short. 'Fraid I can't help ya there either; Papyrus, he's got some big shoes to fill.

[He winks at the lens before reaching for the communicator and then, almost as an afterthought, adds:]

Someone ought'a take care of the lab the docs built. Lotta their stuff's still in there, too, and lyin' around my place. Figure it should go to the people who knew 'em best.

[Y'know, whoever that is. But you all know who you are, don't ya?

Yeah. He'd think so.

He cuts the feed.]

Comments

text;

[skelebro]

hey, i'm sorry too, pal.
never easy to lose people.

[Unless you've simply gotten used to it.]

text;

[oversear]

Perhaps you should ask the gods to try and bring them back.

text;

[skelebro]

'cause their track record is just so fantastic, yeah?

text;

[oversear]

They may be incompetent but they brought us here. They may be able to strike gold twice.

text;

[skelebro]

i'm guessin' you've never heard the story about broken clocks bein' right twice a day.

text;

[oversear]

Isn't that a comfort? Twice is better than none.

text;

[skelebro]

unreliability generally ain't something i find a comfort, no.

[Hence why he ain't really comfortable with himself, ever. Ba dum tshh.]

text;

[oversear]

What would you find comforting?

We may not be friends but I would like to try. You seem to be lacking puns. It is off putting.

text;

[skelebro]

[...heh. Guess that's a pretty prime indicator of his frame of mind.]

if lack of jokes are the problem, i didn't mean to leave ya disapunted.

[But he don't answer the question. Notably.]

text;

[oversear]

Yes. That sounds more usual.

It is all right to grieve, of course.

text;

[skelebro]

nobody's dead, buddo.

text;

[oversear]

[ "Buddo". What the hell is that. ]

Sometimes separation is worse.

text;

[skelebro]

[A term of endearment, buddy chum homeslice pal.]

it can be.

text;

[oversear]

I'm sure they are thinking of you.

text;

[skelebro]

assuming they remember me, sure.
always a comfort, ain't it?

text;

[oversear]

Why would they not?

text;

[skelebro]

wouldn't make much sense if they did.
can't have the story back home changin', can we?

text;

[oversear]

[ 2 meta 4 him ]

I am confused. What story?

text;

[skelebro]

everybody's gotta story where they come from.
you end up here, the story's gotta have a pause button.
can't carry on without ya.

text;

[oversear]

Wouldn't things just carry on without us?
Like we've just disappeared off the face of the Earth?

text;

[skelebro]

people'd notice.
sometimes people nip out and come right on back.
way they tell it, it's like time never passed back home at all while they were away.

text;

[oversear]

I cannot help but find that comforting.
My loves will not be distressed, it is only me who is suffering currently.
Nothing has changed.

text;

[skelebro]

got people you miss back home?

[Most people do. Unsurprisingly.]

text;

[oversear]

Of course.

[ Armand's completely thirsty to talk to someone about his paramours. Even in a roundabout way. ]

Sybelle and Benji. We parted too soon. I only had them for a short time.

[ Short for an immortal being, anyway. ]

text;

[skelebro]

[The names don't mean a thing to him, but hey. Don't mean they won't always.]

should i keep my phalanges crossed they show up here sometime?