March 24, 1xxx.
That date meant little to most (only a select few would grieve annual after it came to pass), but it was of great importance to one person: A stone-faced adolescent with a SOUL colored from a rainbow's tear. One may ask themself, "Why?" or "How could an arbitrary day hold meaning?" The date's significance stemmed from a unique reason. A truly uncommon mentality. One unknowingly shared by those who fell before them. On this day, that special SOUL would journey deep into the mystical world hidden beneath the mountain. A place uncharted, forbidden, and dangerous.
Many would consider such a quest suicide. And it was. Though, perhaps, that was their goal. No human or animal had ever escaped the mountain's depths; None ever would. If one managed to survive the fifty-foot fall, then what dwelled within the caverns and tunnels would finish the job.
Over hundreds to thousands of years, this treacherous mountain had earned and lost numerous titles. Almost too many to count. Amongst the list lied monikers such as Non Redi, Kolasi stigi, Saxum Cavea, Hölle, Monster Mountain, Hell's Peak, and many of which were lost through the passage of time. Three generations ago, a new name joined the ever-growing list, overtaking all the others. The infamous title: Mt. Ebott.
None - not a single villager or woman with an old wives tale - knew where the moniker came from. It appeared one day and refused to leave. Many had speculations, though. Some speak of an old wizard running through the village streets chanting the name; Others tell of a nasty old witch muttering about herbs and magical creatures and spitting the name with enough venom to poison a viper. All were too far fetched to hold a sliver of truth, but considering which mountain they referred to, it was entirely possible.
Mt. Ebott was a far-reaching mass known as the most mystical location on their side of the continent. Numerous rumors and myths surrounded the massive mountain. Tales of fire breathing lizards; Legends of powerful goat creatures; Fables of gigantic kingdoms full of magic and wonder, a worldwide war, and the imprisonment of a dangerous, vile race.
Shades of pink, purple, and orange colored the evening sky. At this time, a figure was seen exiting the nearby town and heading towards the thick woodland and cloud-touching peaks. The traveler could not be distinguished as male or female, straight, medium-length brown hair fell in their face, and an impassive expression hid their emotions. A simple tan and white striped shirt, too big work boots, and worn, muddy shorts covered them. Neither article had pockets, and no satchel laid on the traveler's shoulder. Their left hand's index finger was poorly wrapped in bloodied gauze.
They looked young. Young enough that the townsfolk believed an adult should be supervising them, especially considering their chosen path. Most did nothing, assuming the child lived at the edge of town. A few mothers attempted to chat with them only to be met with stony silence.
The determined SOUL stopped for no one (Why would they? The townsfolk's attempts were halfhearted and uncaring. They wouldn't truly miss them.), continuing to walk along the stone footpath. Gothic-styled builds passed in the blink of an eye, metal streetlights flickered to life, and the town's edge soon came into view. Deep green foliage sprung from the earth along with a rainbow of differently colored flowers. Towering pines reached for the stars. Together with the trees, everything created an impenetrable living barricade. A fox trail leading through sharp brambles was the only clear path to the other side of the overgrown flora.
The potentiality for injuries did not deter them. The brown-haired child got on their hands and knees and crawled into the fox's tunnel. Thorns caught in their hair and scratched their cheeks, yet they pushed onward. At the end, the SOUL squirmed out and stood up, hands nonchalantly brushing the dirt from their clothes. Then they proceeded forward on another animal trail. Dark clouds began to shroud the star-speckled dusk, and little droplets of rain started to fall as they walked. No attempt to find cover was made. They were indifferent to the rain soaking into their already poorly maintained clothes.
Onward and upward, they went. Curious wildlife observed the human from the shadows; Staring, but never daring enough to move closer. Birds twittered in the trees. Deer watched with trepidation. Foxes poked their heads out of bushes to examine the unusual being treading their woods. Insects chittered from the foliage. Butterflies fluttered around. They were too enthralled by the newcomer to seek shelter from the rain. However, the animals' presence went ignored. Instead of reaching out and trying to pet them, the determined child walked right passed them.
Eventually, the plant life faded way, leaving grey stone and dirt in its place. Sheer cliffs protruded from the mountain. Gritting their teeth, the child grasped a small indentation and climbed and climbed and climbed- The slickness of the wet rock threatened to make them lose their grip, but they held on. And they climbed until, finally, they reached the top. Panting and shaking, they used what little strength they had to pull themself over the edge. Flora and fauna were a welcome sight, as the woodland laid before them once more. With one last wheezing breath, they sighed and started walking again.
An hour passed before they spotted their goal: A bottomless hole leading into the earth. Trees and bushes surrounded the pit, nearly concealing it from sight. If one didn't know it was there, they could easily slip and fall to their doom. Perhaps it was that way by Fate's design. Or perhaps Mother Nature carved a yawning maw into the mountain so her other children could eat. Not that it mattered. The hole existed, and the reason why was of no interest to the brown-haired child. Resolutely, they stepped forward and stood at the hole's edge. The inside showed no end, merely an inescapable abyss.
Then...
They leaped into the unknown.
Thousands of years ago, the Earth was ruled over by two vastly different races: Monsters and Humans. Both races governed the world in peace for centuries (possibly even millennia) before their differences drove a wedge between them.
Monsters flourished, creating expansive empires and small kingdoms across the land. Their kindness was unparalleled; Their generosity unmatched by any species. Any cry for help answered in an instant.
Humans, on the other hand, were quite the opposite. As time went on, they grew wicked, vile, and heinous. The homo sapiens committed themselves to the Seven Deadly Sins: Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, and Pride. Buildings, where the wealthy could partake in ventures of burning passion, were erected. Not even that could sate their unhealthy fixation with the deed or keep them from defiling innocents on the streets, though. Waste and rubbish soon flooded streets and blocked pathways. Farmers had to work at a demanding pace in poor living conditions to keep up with the demand for food- the agriculturists rarely being allowed a break or holiday as they ran themselves ragged at their King's command.
People - both young and old, but only human - became obsessed with silks, shiny metals, and symbols of status/power. They took and took and took... and took until the once flourishing land had nothing left to offer. As a consequence, tragic wars broke out amongst the community. Humans fought against humans; Men fought against women; Children were raised learning lessons of hatred and vengeance.
After ravaging their own kind, the humans set their sights on monsters- set their malicious gaze on the latter race's complex structures, lush vegetable fields and lively pastures, and happiness. They loathed the joy and peace monsters had while they had nothing but despair. It was an easy decision for them. They wanted that 'happiness' for themselves, and themselves only. No one, only humans, could have that 'happiness'.
Thus began The Great Human-Monster War, the largest recorded genocide in monster history.
Human kings and queens gathered from far and wide - heads held high, refusing to admit fault for their previous decrees - all for the purpose of forming a 'truce' with one another. Though neither monarch or kingdom seemed willing to relent their meager stockpile of resources to the cause. Disputes and quarrels echoed throughout their 'shared' stronghold, and the arguing stretched for days on end before they finally came to an accord. The wicked race agreed on one thing and one thing alone: Monsters must die. And, as a result, death was brought to many.
Amies spanning the length of an entire mountain invaded the peaceful, monster-owned lands; Monsters were in no way prepared for the massive incursion. Men, women, children, elderly- Regardless of age or gender, anyone who stood in the humans' path to the three major kingdoms got slaughtered. There was no mercy to be shared. No one to be spared...
Álfheimr, the home of those closest to heaven, was the first empire to fall victim to the humans' brutality. Every majestic sky-beast (Dragons, Thunderbirds, Hippogriffs, Phoenix, etc.) died a horrific, gruesome death. Scales transformed into armor, horns and talons/claws were forged into mighty weapons, and feathers became the magician's key to wielding the elements. Humans turned monsters against each other. The vile race took undusted pieces of monsters and used them for their own gain, treating them like a prize or possession when they should have been put to rest... When the broken monsters should have been dusted and spread on their favorite item.
After Álfheimr's demise, Akilineq quickly followed. The attack was swift and fierce, leaving little room for escape. However, a special few - an adolescent fire elemental, well-read skeleton youth, and middle-aged tortoise monster - managed to escape and fled to warn the next kingdom on the genocide route, Aaru. The trio traveled nonstop, not taking a single moment to rest until they reached the grand domain. Upon relaying tales of the humans' efforts to wipe out their race, an audience with king and queen was granted.
Anecdotes of brutal killings, demented weaponry, and mutilated monsters being used as armor, and untouchable armies filled the throne room. All present were aghast. Only Gregor Dreemurr, Aaru's current and, unfortunately, last king, took the appalling news with a straight face and fire burning in his eyes. Everyone else shed tears for the lost children and souls tortured by the human hands.
After regaining composure, his wife, Queen Asilia, howled with rage at the atrocities committed against their kind. She declared, "If those creatures want a fight, then they have one! I will not allow those demons in this kingdom, not even on this land! These beasts have spread far too much dust already. This must end! Now!" The Royal Court agreed with her statement and demanded the king take action.
Seeing and sharing their feelings toward these so-called 'humans', King Gregor immediately sent out a message stating the following:
"Dearest citizens,
It has been brought to my attention that humans are on a murderous rampage, bringing genocide where ever they go. Women have been killed. Youths have been tortured. Warriors have been mercilessly slaughtered... Many kingdoms, including Álfheimr and Akilineq, were lost to this madness, and Aaru seems to be the next victim. However, we shall not take this standing down! Aaruians are strong people. We have survived droughts, famines, and plagues. This blind act of aggression will not be our downfall!
All those capable and of age, meet at the Royal Guard barracks and prepare for combat. Farmers and ranchers, stock as much food and non-perishables as possible. Blacksmiths and tailors, begin constructing weapons and armor. Mages of the land, prepare potions and spells and be ready for the call to action.
We are going to war, and we will win!"
Afterward, the informants were offered refuge and a permanent place amongst his people as thanks- an offer in which they accepted.
News of the upcoming war and three survivors spread like wildfire. Soon smaller neighboring kingdoms began prepping for battle, forming alliances with one another. Troops were tallied, those unable to contribute to the cause were safely hidden, and brass horns echoed the call of war.
But all efforts to prevent defeat proved useless. The opposing force had already collected too much LOVE (Level of Violence) and Exp. (Execution Points) Each kingdom hit was assaulted harder than the last. Monster armies were mowed through without pause. Human soldiers slashed and sliced down every warrior in their path, killing any survivors on their journey... Even Aaru stood no chance against the sheer ferocity of the attack.
In a desperate attempt to strengthen their kingdom and increase manpower, Aaru's monarchs married off their son, Prince Asgore, to a princess. Few royals remained, and the only princess willing and alive was Princess Toriel. She accepted the proposal as a way to maximize her peoples' chance of survival. Thus the young monarchs were wed in hopes of saving their nation- by doing the only thing they could to help: Marry another royal. People rejoiced the joining of the two Boss Monsters, especially on their wedding day. Thereafter, the kingdoms seamlessly combined and started working together like a well-oiled machine, bringing HoPe back in the process.
For once, the future looked just a little brighter.
Unfortunately, that brightness did not last long. Their hope became short-lived when humans launched a large scale attack on Aaru's outer walls. A brutal assault far greater than any previous attacks. One that shook the kingdom's stony barrier to its core. Magicians flocked outside the empire, creating rifts in time and space with their stolen magic, and unleashed a legion of human soldiers on the domain. Powerful spells chipped away at the walls and swords clashed with the meager guard.
As prepared as Aaru was, it only took a matter of minutes before the LOVE-ridden creatures burst through the stone bricks. Well-trained monsters quickly gathered at the breaches but were barely able to halt their adversaries. Humans marched forward without delay; Each warrior in their path struck down with frightening speed and accuracy, killed in an instant. Realizing the danger afoot, King Gregor and Queen Asilia withdrew any living troops and took their place on the frontlines. People objected the decision, saying they needed their king and queen to live, but the duo would not yield. They stubbornly forced their way into the action. So, reluctantly, a majority of the Royal Court and Guard fled with any civilians they could find. All while their rulers protected them.
The monarchs fought valiantly in order to buy the people of Aaru - and, most of all, their precious son and his wife - time to escape. Gregor and Asilia made a perfect team on the battlefield. One would summon intense blazes to hold back soldiers while the other showered them with a flurry of magical bullets. For a moment, this strategy worked. One by one, human soldiers slowly died, dwindling the army by an insignificant but inspiring amount. But, regardless of how the numbers diminished, they were still at a horrible disadvantage. Humans outnumbered monsters by a ratio of 2000:1... It was a losing battle. Victory, an impossible goal.
There, standing on the ruins of the once-glorious kingdom, King Gregor and Queen Asilia dusted. Neither regretted their actions. Why? Because they protected their subjects to the very end, as true rulers should.
During Gregor and Asilia's final battle, the escapees successfully arrived at the Royal Crypt, an underground burial site for Aaru's royal family. It was a makeshift stronghold - a haven established from a small, ancient structure - but a stronghold nonetheless. Various monsters fled beyond its' doors; Each sought safety from the ongoing conflict. Soon a debate on whether or not they should close the doors- on how willing they were to forsake those left behind plagued the masses.
Survival instinct won against hope and loyalty. Though none wanted to abandon their king and queen, waiting for two doomed monsters was not an option.
The marble doors slammed shut with a resounding bang, leaving Aaru's monarchs and fighting warriors locked outside. But all was not peaceful. In the chilly sanctum, monsters panicked and bickered with each other, arguing over the next course of action. Some still wished to aid their monarchs; Others wanted to hide in the crypt's deepest niches and protect themselves, thus causing shouting and screaming matches capable of waking the dead. As they progressively increased in ferocity, Princess Toriel grew more and more fed up with the revolting display. Her husband's soft words and meaningless gestures did nothing to cease it. Stomping passed the disgruntled monsters, she stood in the middle of the room and roared, "You should be ashamed of yourselves! We have monsters injured and close to dusting, and yet all you can do is argue?!" The room fell silent. Toriel, Aaru's princess, a soul kinder and more gentle than a feather's touch, hushed every monster in her vicinity. No one anticipated it, not even the surviving oracle.
With a powerful voice, she delegated important tasks. Head counting, healing, blockading- Those able-bodied and unwound set out to complete their assigned job. Minotaur-esque monsters moved loose objects in front of the entrance, bookish citizens began calculating numbers, kindhearted souls took to cleaning and healing fresh wounds. Though, more manpower went to a certain task: Healing. Too many monsters were injured and close to dusting. As a result, a majority of peoples' time was spent tending to gashes and magic burns instead of strengthening the door.
By the time their foes arrived, that didn't matter.
One would imagine the ruthless humans would burst through the weakly barricaded door, but they did the opposite. They locked the monsters inside.
Calling upon the power of their greatest magicians, the sadistic beasts confined the monsters to the earth below. A magic barrier - an all-encompassing shield only a human can pass through - formed around the mountain. Every monster inside was trapped... trapped and with no escape.
However, this elaborate cage is not perfect. It is faulty. With the power of seven special SOULs, the barrier can be broken. And- A skeletal finger paused its movement, stopping on the word's series of raised dots. Sans hung his head and sighed. The 'Abridged History of The Great Human-Monster War' wasn't quite what he expected. Not only did the book gloss over important details about the war, but it didn't contain the information he sought either.
The Seven Magicians/Mages, the history of Venusberg, lore about skeletons and their draconic companions, lost magicks- None of these topics were easy to research. A monster could check every single book and tome in the local or royal library and find nothing. Absolutely nothing pertaining to those topics. His current subject was just as difficult, if not even more difficult and downright arduous, to read up on. Humans SOULs. The accursed cores of that diabolical race were Sans' forschungsthema, so to speak. A shoddily recorded field he was determined to learn about. Not only for his sake but for the benefit of monsters all across the Underground.
Strengths, weaknesses, abilities, components, overall structure- These were things he needed to study. With that knowledge, the barrier could be broken; The never-ending cycle of life and death could be nullified... His job could finally be over. He could escape from his duties and break the chains shackling him to his room in Snowdin. Meaning no more late nights spent secretly wandering the Underground, or running on two hours of sleep (four on good days). Facades and masks would be a thing of the past. Sans could be free- have the ability to do whatever he wanted and go where ever he pleased.
That hope - that deep, unwavering wish for freedom - led to countless silent prayers. A mental plea that something, anything, could be found in his vast book collection. Unfortunately, the search yielded zero results.
Thus far.
Though he had nothing to show for his hard work and perseverance, Sans refused to accept defeat. He could do this. Complete his seemingly futile quest. Results would be found, whether each and every tome/scroll needed to be read through twice over or a thousand elders threatened to talk his ears off by regaling tales of old. Of course, looking in the right place might help make the search less agonizing, but going there - traversing those stark white, twisting and turning halls - was strictly a last resort. A last-last resort. Something solely to be done when all possible avenues had been expended, and there was nowhere else to go.
Plus, many of his books still needed to be checked and read, so there was no need to go to such extremes yet.
Out of all the works he checked thus far, the 'Abridged History of The Great Human-Monster War' seemed promising, primarily due to its title and author. Gerson, a wise monster who witnessed countless significant events in their race's history, was known for writing fascinating stories and historical records. Sans had read nearly every single one of his pieces and enjoyed them. This, however - the 'Oh, Let's Just Skip Over Everything Really Important: Tales of Bullshittery' - was a disgrace to literature and a mockery of their part in the war.
Gerson, I expected so much more out of your literary work. Maybe a bit too much. With that thought, Sans grasped at the cover before flipping it. A slight thump sounded as the book closed. Here I thought someone who lived during that time period would be better at recounting the events. Guess not...
Sans leaned into his plush, relatively clean (by Underground standards, at least) reading chair and attempted to soothe any rage toward the 'book' resting in his hands, however, thoughts about the dreadful thing plagued him. And they all revolved around one thing: His hope. His completely, utterly foolish hope.
Hope for many things; Wishes for the impossible.
Followed by crushing disappointment.
This could have been the breakthrough he was waiting for. The chance to progress his research. An opportunity to get answers to his undying questions and prove his theories. But, no. Fate just went and said, 'Hey, Sans' hope is way too high right now. Let's kick him in his nonexistent balls, and then plot to crush his dreams!' Because Fate was a fuckin' bitch. Now he's left with some useless 'book' to add to his collection. Or the fireplace. It would do a hell of a lot more good warming up the house than taking up space on his crowded bookshelves. Besides, on a day like this, a book like that... SHOULD BE BURNING IN HELL.
Continuing with thoughts of his home, Sans wondered how secure it currently was. Monsters commonly raided others' homes. Hell, if he had a G (gold coin) for every time some idiot tried to break in, he and his brother would be rich! Not that they weren't already... but no one needed to know that. At least every other day a ballsy pickpocket or foolish cretin would get the bright idea to try and rob them. Didn't end well for any of them. After all, attempting to steal from a Royal Guard member - which Papyrus just so happened to be - was an offense punishable by death. Most crimes were punishable by death. King Asgore decreed it long ago.
Many had hoped that kind of punishment would deter criminals. Sadly, plenty of monsters were desperate enough to risk it. An unfortunate consequence of the Underground's poor economy- the saying 'one man's trash is another man's treasure' summed up their living situation perfectly. Everything in the Underground was trash. Garage. Rubbish. Abfall. Humankind's discarded objects and materials. No matter what it was called, at the end of the day, it's merely trash.
Some handy monsters attempt to make things from thrown out items and scraps, but the final product was hardly any good. Never flawless or pristine. Shiny, brand new wares (clothes, furniture, etc.) were hard to come by. Only a specialist could craft something worthwhile. Alas, very few monsters actually had the abilities and skills required to do so. And the price- the sheer amount of G one must have in order to purchase their goods and services was astronomical. And not the celestial kind. A newish shirt cost one thousand G. ONE THOUSAND! Shelling out that much G for a shirt, Sans would never entertain such a thought. He'd rather wander around the dump and pray he could locate something without holes in it.
The food situation wasn't any better, either. Nearly all edible substances had a frightening amount of salmonella and were usually the disgusting, rotten leftovers from a human's meal. Naturally, this caused many cases of food poisoning. Every monster got sick at least twice a week, five times if they were unlucky. Not like finding good, affordable food was easy anyways. Oftentimes, monsters found their next meal in a pile of trash, like a sick form of grocery shopping. And, yes, the Underground did indeed have grocery stores. Those who had the time and were willing to scavenge would sell whatever they didn't plan on keeping. In Snowdin, the local rabbit family provided a majority of the townspeople with semi-fresh ingredients and meals. For a hefty price, of course. There was no such thing as free food, unless you find it yourself.
That being said, fresh food existed within their caged kingdom. Snails, cave fruits and vegetables, small mammal (moles, bats, rats, mice, etc.), amphibians, reptiles, fish, edible plants- All of which were heavily protected by the Royal Guard, hidden in well-kept sanctuaries all across the Underground. Only those with special permission from the King were allowed to hunt/gather. An honor solely gifted to monsters in a powerful position, like the Royal Guard Captain/Lieutenant or other Royal roles. And on very, very rare occasions, a lowly monster may gain that clearance. However, scarcely anyone aside from restaurant owners - Grillby and Muffet to name a few - dared to complete the criteria required to earn the King's blessing.
Back to the original topic- robberies and such were a common occurrence in the Underground. Taking place so often, everyone's daily itinerary sectioned off a special spot for them. Honestly, Sans wouldn't be surprised if ransacking someone's house had become a right of passage by now. Almost all monsters resorted to it at some point in their life, though, some far more than others. Like his mortal enemies: The Snowdrakes and Icecaps. Those damn brats constantly scurried around his and Papyrus' house, attempting to break in whenever his brother was out.
Sans feared the day they actually managed their goal. While he was by no means weak, showing his true abilities in combat... wouldn't end in anyone's favor. Not for the bratty thieves; Not for the skeleton who hid behind a well-crafted facade of fragility and ailment. That mask was irreplaceable. Something Sans couldn't allow to shatter. But he knew falling back on his brother's status - relying on it alone to keep monsters from messing with him - would not work forever.
...Was Papyrus even home? Had his training session with Undyne ended yet?
Damn it! I shouldn't have gotten so distracted by Gerson's literary disgrace. Sans felt its' leather cover and placed the damned thing on what he hoped was a table and not a stack of books. An antique wooden table stood beside his chair. It generally held a lamp (For his brother, not for him. He already lived in perpetual darkness; it would make zero difference.) and a few shabby joke books. However, due to Papyrus' quest to drowned Sans in literature (Read: keep him occupied), the poor table may very well be submerged in books by now. Thankfully, no tumbling followed its' placement. So it was safe to assume he placed it on the table. Or precariously on a book stack.
Either way, thank the stars. If Papyrus was, in fact, home, the sound of a collapsing book stack would have caused him to storm into Sans' room. And pester him about everything under the artificial sun. Sans breathed out a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was his brother's incessant worrying. Papyrus' heart - assuming he truly cared about his well being - was in the right place, but damn, it annoyed him.
Despite being older, Papyrus treated him like a child- Constantly fussing over him, essentially locking him in the house, and never letting him do anything by himself. His brother ruined the most basic things. Even cleanliness.
He mockingly thought, Oh no, Sans, let me pick that up. I wouldn't want you to hurt your delicate hands. Oh dear, you want to shower? Well, I guess I, the Great Papyrus, will aid you!
Sans had to stop himself from snarling 'Na ja, vielleicht will ich deine hilfe nicht!'
Stifling any feelings for his brother's previous antics, he slowly steadied his breath - inhaling and exhaling in a rhythmic fashion - and listened. Listened to the world. The Underground. His home's perimeter. He could hear everything from the light footfall of monsters walking by to the neighbors loudly arguing about dinner.
This power- This ability to extend his sense of hearing beyond normal capacity was not a gift bestowed upon him a birth. It manifested later in life. Far after he had grown used to the sight of colors, monsters, and scenery; back when he had average hearing strength. And for fifteen years of his life, Sans lived unhandicapped. Then something happened. An 'accident'. That's what he chose to call it. How else could he describe an unbelievable event? Why would he bother telling the truth when no one would believe it? But, regardless of what it was referred to as, that 'incident' took from him. Injured him. By now, one may be able to guess what Sans 'traded' for this super-hearing. Which sense could cause another to strengthen if lost? Could cause his hearing ability to increase? The answer was simple. His sight. An equally important sense that could not be replaced but could be compensated for. That was the price Sans paid.
With practiced ease, Sans blocked out all unnecessary noises and focused on the house. A tingling sensation shot up his spine as the overpowered sense stretched across his and his brother's dwelling. It generated a little discomfort. An itch in the back of his mind that needed scratching. He hated the feeling but learned to ignore it long ago.
Directing the power, Sans zeroed in on the lower floors of the house first. Kitchen? Quiet. No cooking or cleaning happening there. Living room? Silent as well; Based on the lack of noise, the TV had been turned off at some point. Perfect. Sans' age-old test to check whether or not Papyrus came home still worked. His brother could never resist turning it off. Plus, a thief was more likely to leave it on. Anyways, moving on. Hall? Soundless. Papyrus' bedroom? Light snoring, meaning his brother had gone to bed already. But when? An hour- two hours ago? Did he really spend that much time reading? Perhaps. Sans knew he tended to get lost in books. Sometimes he would spend hours reading book after book, forgetting to eat or do anything else.
Sans released the breath he had been holding. Everything was fine. Good, even. The house was safe, unbreached by the local raiders, thieves, and crooks. Papyrus made it home safely after a long day of work and guard training. Though... something felt off. Not quite right. Like a piece of the puzzle was missing.
With a shake of his head, Sans redirected his super-sense to a particular room. A hidden room. His workshop. Only the gentle whirring of machines and advanced (by normal standards) technology reached his nonexistent ears. Nothing sounded too loud or like it was overheating. Good, considering some equipment was considerably finicky. A few required general maintenances and part replacements. However, Papyrus' hovering made it difficult for Sans to keep up with those tasks; Finding time to scour Waterfall's dump was near impossible. Between his research, job, Papyrus' determination to keep him indoors, and experiments- There was no way he could do it.
The idea of experiments brought his thoughts to Alphys. She always had time to spare and searched Waterfall when off duty. Perhaps she could part with a component or two. Or, better yet, find the specific pieces he wanted. He'd need a bribe, though. Ages had passed since Sans last visited the yellow lizard, and she was bound to be displeased by that.
"I should stop by Grillby's before heading to Hotland. His burgers are the world's best bribe." Sans muttered to himself, frowning slightly. "...Does she still like burgers?"
He huffed. Honestly, Sans had no clue if she ate burgers anymore. They hadn't had lunch or any meal together for a long time. Maybe I should change that. Will make it a lot easier to ask for favors if she likes me.
Sans slumped in the chair, pondering. There was so much to do and so little time. And that odd feeling had yet to be addressed. He thought for sure it was a sixth sense warning him about an overheating machine, but everything seemed to be in order. Zero short-circuits. No worrying clanking. Nothing that sounded out of the ordinary. In fact, the entire house was quiet. Minus Papyrus' snoring. Suddenly, Sans realized what exactly was missing- who was missing.
Braille!
He jolted up with as much grace as a blind skeleton could muster and listened for that missing who. Where is-
Click. Clack. Click. Those noises were the sounds made by claws meeting wood. Hardwood. Flooring to be exact. Sans' stiffened bones relaxed, and a sigh of relief escaped his jaws. As the clicking and clacking grew closer, a genuine smile crept onto his face. "Hey, bud. Decide to join me for some reading, or were you here the whole time?"