Ink's Point of View Still


I hissed silently as I placed an ice pack on the surface of my soul which had some sort of liquid oozing out it, it being translucent and sticky with a slight scent of an unidentifiable but sweet fragrance. "Ugh . . . Guess this isn't going to work out so well like I originally." My soul was a slightly faded, but bright rainbow as it slowly stopped spilling its thin slime over the pack and my shirt. Thought this guy was going to be good, but I should've known, he looked like trouble and I still let him in. I switched my shirt out for a clean one and looked under my bed, seeing my giant wooden brush lying there with my other paint grenades and art weapons I modified.

"Guess I'm gonna have to use you guys for a while if this douche keeps screwing with me." I mumbled as I slid them out to run my fingertips over the smooth wooden base of the brush, a small smile crossing my face. I then thought about Error's cables and how they were able to pretty much latch onto anything that I've seen. Maybe the paint could slip through them and then get him, covering him in the thick liquid. Yeah, it just might work! I just might have the upper hand against the glitch if he continues this act.

"What the hell do I do now? My soul stopped 'bleeding' and seems to be fine." Replacing the energy source back into my ribcage after caring for it for the past twenty minutes. Well, it is about ten o'clock and I've yet to eat or draw, so I think that's the best plan I have at the moment. I stood up and grabbed a pack of poptarts and hopped on my bed, biting into the breakfast pastry. Strawberry? I didn't get these. Oh well, who cares? It's food. And it's pretty delicious. Anyways, I need to come up with a plan to kick Error's ass in a fight and manage to not be in several pieces. I started to sketch out attack ideas, using all possibilities for techniques I had learned from the past.

I could use my brush to paint a wall to block his cables if they try and go after me. Or toss a grenade at him, then dash behind him and attack from behind. But those leave my legs vulnerable to other strings that would be lurking around. "Shit." Shaking my head, I put those ideas in the back of my head and focused on other ideas. My smaller brushes, I could sharpen the tips of those and toss them at Error or use my trusty blaster, but still, the blaster is an uncreative way of fighting despite the damage output it gives off. I'll use it to try and bring him down, anything helps– Fuck! How am I gonna get all that there?! I tossed my sketchbook across the room and let out an annoyed groan, huffing.

I was fast, but with all this on my back and chest would drag me down tremendously! It's a major setback towards this issue I'm dealing with. "It's gonna be impossible to kick this guys ass! Damn it!" I said in a slight scream, then heard a bang from the next room over. "Watch your profanity! People are still sleeping here!" I sighed and face palmed at myself for being so reckless about myself. Felt like the worlds biggest idiot after hearing them from through the wall . . . Besides, I need to see if I can try and find a gym or an empty lot to see how long it's been since I've used my gear.


Error's Point of View (as of now)


Yeah, why'd I even decide to fucking go here. I'll be here tomorrow either way. "Hah, see ya." I walked out of the class I was interested in to see what all was to be in this course to wander around campus, sighing in boredom. I really did want to try and make somewhat of a friendship with Ink, but he went and ruined it. He just had to fucking try and move my hand, didn't he? As I was walking down the hall, someone just happened to shoulder check me which just added to my shitty mood.

"Hey, shithead." I muttered as I turned to face the slightly taller student that decided to push me over, furrowing my nonexistent eyebrows. They turned around with a sly smile, putting his arms out as a taunt. "What? You gonna fight back?" I sighed deeply before calmly walking up to them, but only to grab them by the collar and hold them to the wall from their throat, staring directly in their eyes. The monster only laughed and held my hand to try and allow some air to slip into his lungs, muttering something. "Sρҽαƙ υρ. I ԃιԃɳ'ƚ ԋҽαɾ ყσυ." I slammed them against the wall again, hearing a pain filled groan and heavy, labored pants. "..f-fucking...gym...coach...could..be..." They kept pointing towards me in a slightly weak fashion, but with an enjoyable expression plastered on his face.

I only chuckled and dropped the monster to the ground to watch them sit up and hold their neck, as if they were looking over it to see if I did any major damage to his spine or throat. "You're stronger than most p-people I picked fights with. I'm the P.E. teacher here, but I don't think I'll be teaching for a day after the beat down you gave me. Impressive." I nodded, deciding to listen to what they had to offer. "I really did mean that though, you'd make a great gym coach. I'm Mr. Ray." "Eɾɾσɾ. Mιɠԋƚ ʅσσƙ ιɳƚσ ƚԋαƚ ρσʂιƚισɳ. Tԋαɳƙʂ." I then walked off, smiling at the comment they had made. That fight made my day, surprisingly. But damn, at least three fights within first two days I've been here. Even with my roommate.

Might as well head back to my place to chill for a little bit. Ink probably left to do some random project or idea he had, after what I've learned from him and his hobbies. Walking back to the shared room after my little matchup I had with the coach a few minutes ago, glancing at the other students wandering around the yard, chatting and having a good time with their friends. Eventually I did reach my room to see that my assumption that Ink had left was correct, bringing a smile to my face. I enjoyed my solitude whenever I get the chance. The sound of silence is best sound I can ever get by being by myself; it allows me to completely envelope my senses in what I'm doing, whether it be reading a book or just sitting around doing nothing.

I couldn't help but notice that Ink had left his drawing pad on his bed with some 'interesting' pictures and plans I happened to find. "Is he really trying to kick my ass with paint grenades? That's pathetic." Scoffing, I tossed the book away onto the others desk, sighing as I had started playing a game on my phone and attempting to hack it. Normally that came easily to me, breaking a game's code is rather interesting at some points in time. If I'm running out on credits on a game, all you have to do if find the game file, look for the right place and do a little modification to what I want. Simple if you know how to read code. I was born in it; raised by the digits whizzing around me—transforming me into what I am now.

"There we go. Plenty of lives and tokens." I mumbled and continued to play the game, smiling at the small accomplishment I had done. Eventually growing tired of constantly going back and forth between the files, I got off and checked the time. Two o'clock? Inkblot's been out for a while now. Meh, he'll be back. Positive. I gave a quiet yawn and shed my jacket, replacing it on the chair to the desk the other skeleton used so often. Figured I might squeeze a quick nap in before I get another fight going on with the artist. Or not, since there's class tomorrow—yeah never mind, I'm not gonna fight him today. Maybe this week, but not today. Yeah. Sounds like a plan.

But before I could even lay down, there was a loud thud outside my door and slightly panicked sounds from a bystander. I gave a sigh and stood up to go and investigate what the commotion was, opening the door to see a lady on the ground with a worried expression on her face as- . . . Oh god. There was dust scattered everywhere on the ground as a result of a monster getting in a large fight, trails of struggle as there were tracks of fleeing, but only being dragged back into the fight. The being lie on the ground with raspy breathing coming from their mouth, barely clinging to life. I watched as the cables wound around the monster's limbs and chest loosely, but tight enough to pick them up.

More dust spilled from their body, onto the cold floor. She watched me carry the severely wounded being into my room, holding her breath. They were obviously anxious about the whole situation, her hands and pupils quivering. "I got this. Go home. I promise." Those were the last words I said before closing my door and locking it shut, going over to the unconscious person lying on my bed. I didn't know if they were going to live, but they were still giving extremely soft puffs of air, so I guess that good. Using my cables to hold their soul together to keep them from turning completely into the loose solid, there was a loud cry of pain, and agonizingly slow motions from him.


Ink was dying.