Dear Sans,

I wish the human would stop. I see the spread of dust over our home, and if I could cry, I would.

They draw closer to the castle, to Asgore.

I know you won't let them pass.

My scarf around your neck motivates you. I can sense my dust still on it, smearing across your bone and drifting onto your hoodie.

I wish I could stand beside you. I wish I could stop this.

But I can't.

I've never felt so hopeless.

Papyrus