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cliban · 5 years

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Shattered SOULs: Chapter 1

WOOOO! I did it. I'm really proud of this one, and at the end, three characters made cameos. Cybercore Temmie belongs to XenomorphicDragon! Wolfdog/The irritating cat belongs to @wolfgirl55stuff (Streamtale) And Hawkguard belongs to @luna-shimizu Table of contents: https://www.deviantart.com/bellae99/journal/Shattered-SOULs-Table-of-contents-plus-characters-802585184 Prologue: https://www.deviantart.com/bellae99/art/Shattered-SOULs-Prologue-801887025 Keep reading for the story

Peppy blinked. Her brown hair was spread across her face like threads of spilled yarn. Where was she? The ground was cold and wet underneath her, her arms were on her chest, palms facing upwards, and her legs were perfectly straight. She was lying down. In mud. Then she remembered to breathe and sat straight up, propping herself up with her hands. Mud squelched through her fingers, oozing onto the ground.

Memories started filling her mind and her magenta eyes widened as she realised what had happened. Was she….. outside the Barrier? A chill ran down her spine as she took in her surroundings. A lush forest spread out like a green carpet below her, rolling into cities, and finally to the ocean, which gleamed with the setting sun. She looked behind her, and saw what she had dreaded. The Barrier.

“No…. no!” She scrambled up, wiping her palms on her blue pants as she went. “Lagoon! Lagoon? Are you there?” She pressed her hands against the Barrier. “Please come back….” she whispered. She looked back into the Underground and saw only an orangey flower, faced away from her. Purple columns surrounded the Barrier’s sides, stretching up into an arch. Beyond was the flower….. and nothing else.

A single petal fluttered off of the flower, spiralling towards her. She dropped her knees and caught it. It was soft against the orange sunlight. She swallowed and, despite her efforts not to, started to cry, tears welling up in her eyes, and spilling down her cheeks. A single drop landed on the petal, a glistening diamond bathing in a sea of orange.

Sound had ceased to exist, and so she was startled when a voice groaned. “Ugh…. Peppy, did we just really-” Peppy whipped her head around. “Lagoon!” she cried out, and struggled to her feet, stumbling to help Lagoon, also known as Chara, to his feet.

Lagoon brushed himself off and surveyed the distance. He looked magnificent, silhouetted by the setting sun, his loose robe billowing slightly in the wind. His cheeks glowed green, his emotion-read for happiness, and Peppy sighed.

Lagoon turned to her. “What is it- Oh. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.” His cheeks glowed orange in alarm and his eyes widened. “Peppy - is the Barrier not-” Peppy shook her head. “It’s not broken.”

His cheeks turned pink, and his eyes turned hollow, a drop of black oozing from the corner of his mouth. “All we worked for- Gone? All gone!? And it’s not my fault!” He stamped his foot, splashing mud on the low-hanging corner of his robe, and Peppy stepped back. “Lagoon, calm down-” “No! I don’t think I will! Everything these past few weeks have been about has been lost, and where are we? In a worse position than before!” He punched the rock beside them. “Lagoon! Calm yourself!” Peppy raised her voice.

Lagoon looked at her, his eyes glinting. “Peppy! Look! What have we accomplished?” Peppy put her hands on her hips. “We’re out of the Underground. And I have a plan.” Lagoon’s cheeks softened a little, and his eyes glowed reddish. “Really…..?” Peppy clasped her hands. “Really.”

They started walking down to the city. “So how is it gonna work?” Peppy grinned. “Well, my dear Lagoon…..” she whispered something almost inaudible into Lagoon’s ear, and he looked at her incredulously. “Where are you going to get a SOUL?” Peppy smiled condescendly. “I move in mysterious ways, Lagoon. Let’s go!”

They made their way out of the forest and into a bustling city. It grew steadily taller as they progressed, streets gradually becoming busier, the world losing its colour and washing out into tall, grey buildings. Peppy started weaving among a throng of people, and Lagoon scowled as he followed, walking through people. Eventually, he hovered above the heads.

Peppy brushed against a person and stepped to the side, slipping into an alley. Lagoon followed and opened his mouth to speak, but Peppy waved a hand through his head. He shut up and Peppy gestured towards the end of the alley.

Someone was dying there. Lagoon could tell. He floated towards the dark mass, and knelt beside it. Peppy raced up to him and rolled the body over. “Oh no,” she whispered. “Hello?” But it was too late. The blue haired boy had bled out.

Lagoon shook Peppy’s shoulder. “Come on! We can get the SOUL!” Peppy stared in horror at him. “We can’t just…. he just…” Lagoon snarled impatiently and Peppy snapped to her senses and grabbed the hovering red SOUL. “Let’s just go, ok, Lagoon?”

They trudged back into the forest and battled their way to Mt. Ebott. “So Lagoon,” Peppy started. “Why did you climb up the mountain?” Lagoon grimaced. “I wanted to take a look at where the monsters were. Then it started raining, and I ran into the cave. And…. I tripped. Fell in. It hurt.”

Peppy giggled. “Why did you climb it?” Lagoon asked. Peppy stopped in her tracks and lost her easy going smile. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Lagoon raised an eyebrow. “Come on, tell. I told you my reason!”

“.... It was because I was being stupid. I thought nobody loved me. Ok?” Peppy stormed up ahead, leaving Lagoon to cover his mouth and curse himself for being silly. “Peppy, wait!”

Peppy only stopped as her phone rang. “Hello?” Cloak’s accent floated into the air. “heya kiddo.” Peppy stopped short. “Cloak! I didn’t kill Asgore! It was that damned flower! Is Dr G with you?” Cloak sounded hesitant. “uh. yeah?” There were sounds of the phone being passed around. “Yes, Miss Frisk?” Peppy snorted. “You know not to call me that. Are the human SOULs still around?” Wing Dings Gaster, affectionately known as Goofster by his friends, inhaled sharply. “Yes? They are.” Peppy nodded affirmatively. “Alright. Get to the RUINs, and I’ll be down shortly.” Goofster frowned audibly. “Uh- ok, but wh-” Peppy ended the call, waited for Lagoon to catch up, and ran off towards the cave, leaving their silent watcher behind.

Peppy skidded to a stop at the edge of the massive drop. “Hello?” Her voice echoed down, bouncing around the damp walls and rebounding at her. “We’re here!” The voice of Goofster echoed up to them. “Ok! Coming down!” Holding her breath, Peppy jumped.

“HUH? HUMAN FRISK!” Jejune, speaking in his trademark Papyrus Font, shielded his eyesockets, looked up, and hurriedly slowed her fall by turning her SOUL blue. Gently lowering her to the ground, he rushed forward. “ARE YOU OK?” He rushed forward and picked her up. “I’m fine, Jejune.” Peppy was placed down and Lagoon floated down after her. “That was incredibly brave or incredibly stupid,” he commented, and Peppy glared at him.

“RIGHT! LET’S GO! NYEHEHEH!” Jejune picked Peppy up, put her on his shoulders, and raced off. Cloak and Goofster looked at each other, shrugged, and stepped onto their respective Gaster Blasters. They acted as helpers for experiments and small testers. They were also capable of holding the skeletons, and were happy to be used as transport. Goofster put his arms behind his back and Lizzy, his blaster, zoomed off. His coat billowed out behind him, whirling into a white cloud.

They arrived at the capitol quickly, Goofster and Cloak trailing behind Jejune and Peppy. They stepped up to the steps of the castle and knocked. The great stone doors swung open, revealing a room with gigantic windows, light streaming in ribbons onto the carpet of titian flowers.

Vines crawled up the walls, but despite the lush undergrowth, the throne room was inhabited. A large goat monster stood in the very center of the room, glaring at the throne in front of her. Her back was turned, but Peppy could tell she was wearing her classic, ankle-length, violet robe with its white hem and pink ribbons flying from the wrist. Her light rose boots were dusted with a light covering of orange pollen, and her brown backpack was discarded in a corner. One of her ears flopped backwards, displaying a scar nestled in the fluff of her fur.

Goofster coughed politely, and the queen turned around, a frown marring her normally kind face. The glowing heart shape on her chest was a dark maroon, signalling anger. “What do you wa- Peppy!” Flame rushed forward, sweeping Cloak and Jejune aside, and scooped Peppy into her arms. Nestled between her arms and her chest, which was now a warm green, Peppy snuggled further into her adopted mother’s arms. “My child, are you hurt?”

Without waiting for a reply, Flame checked Peppy’s stats. She gently put her down, and turned to the skeletons with a look of anger on her face. “She’s hurt! You should have healed her when you had the chance!” Goofster bowed a little. “My apologies, your majesty, I-” “Don’t ‘your majesty’ me!” thundered Flame. Phantom cowered beside Cloak, who remained perfectly still, staring intensely at the queen. Peppy shyly tugged the edge of Flame’s robe. Flame whirled to face her and knelt. “Is there anything you need, my child?”

Peppy shook her head. “No, mum. I’m just saying, they didn’t know. I… I have to do something. Can you take me to see the SOULs?” Flame cupped Peppy’s cheek with one soft paw. “Alright, my child. Once you’ve healed and rested.” Peppy internally rolled her eyes, but agreed. Lagoon stood in the corner of the Judgement hall, observing.

Peppy stayed the night, and woke at exactly 3:45am. She quietly moved the bedcovers out of the way and tiptoed to the window. She swished the curtains aside and looked out at the artificially moonlit city. Two whispers caught her attention and she stuck her head out the window to see two familiar figures making their way past the castle and heading to the park.

One was tall, and lean, with fanned ears and a high ponytail. The other was about to her hip, with rows upon rows of head spikes, a hunched posture, and stubby little limbs that would have been recognizable anywhere. Oak and Minerva. Peppy whistled and Oak whipped her head to see Peppy waving wildly at her. “Punk?” she muttered, and, pointing her out to Minerva, started making her way over. “What are you doing back down here?” she called up. Peppy shrugged. “I’m here to free you all.” Minerva remained silent.

“That sounds excellent. How are you planning to do that?” Peppy folded her arms. “Not telling.” Lagoon mumbled and turned in his sleeping position on his bed. “What are you two doing out at 3am?” Minerva peeped her head up beside the window. “N-nothing.” Peppy sighed. “Alright. See you two tomorrow. Have fun on your date!”

Ignoring Minerva’s protests, she shut the curtains and headed back to sleep.

She woke again at 7:00am, and jumped up to see Flame cooking breakfast. “I’m so glad you’re awake! I thought it must have been a dream when my darling child made her way back here.” Peppy grinned. “I’m glad to see you too, mum!” Flame turned with a stack of steaming pancakes on a plate in one hand. Peppy’s mouth watered at the sight of it.

Peppy scarfed it all down, Lagoon staring jealously at the food, and Flame laughing and telling her to slow down. Once she was finished, Peppy jumped up and started bouncing excitedly. “Come on, come on, let’s go!!!!” Flame laughed, and obliged Peppy by taking her to the SOULs.

They were in front of the Barrier, looking out at the sun and the overworld. Lagoon floated to the nearest, the patience SOUL, and looked at Peppy. Peppy nodded, and unscrewed the jar. The SOUL floated out, humming, and shining with an iridescent cyan glow. Flame started to say something, but Peppy touched the SOUL.

It melted into a thousand particles and flowed into her arm.

Her SOUL felt as if it were on fire.

Then the burning stopped, and Peppy straightened. She felt strong, empowered. A mark in the shape and colour of the SOUL appeared on her arm.

She repeated the process, exhausting herself.

Soon she had seven tattoos on her arm. She swallowed, and looked at Flame. “I can break the Barrier,” she announced, and Flame stared at her, flabbergasted.

There were thousands of monsters at the breaking of the Barrier, including a cat-like monster with green eyes, yellow fur, and orange markings, who went by Wolf, a Temmie with a dark grey chestplate with light blue glowing markings that went into wires that attached to bracelets on its wrists, a hawk-like humanoid with plain clothes, yet with obvious muscles behind her feathers, and a few others that, like the afore mentioned, flickered a lot.

Peppy could feel the eyes burning into her as she reached out a hand. Murmurs ran around the crowd, the main ones being ‘We’re going to be free’, and ‘Our saviour’. Tears welled in Peppy’s eyes as she reached out a hand to touch the Barrier…. And the last thing she saw before fading blackness, was the Barrier cracking, bending, and finally shattering under her touch.

#shattered souls #undertale #undertale au #creatortale #frisk #peppy

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askmicrowaveayem · 7 years

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Boink! The Gaster Brothers Pt. 31

[Previous]

[Archive] [Cast]

He made small movements at first. Small tugs at the rope before waiting for a reaction, a noise, anything to indicate someone was watching him. When none came his movements became more drastic.

Dings grit his teeth and bent his wrists at painful angles, tugging and pulling at the rope binding them together. It took some work, but they eventually slipped free. He grabbed onto the rope before he could feel it fall, not wanting them to see it as they passed if they were staring out the back of the wagon, and it could be useful as a weapon in desperation.

He quickly rolled it up in his hands. Wrapped it around his palm. Then he reached up to feel the manacle around his neck.

Where was the lock?

Where was the FUCKING lock!?

He couldn’t find it. The only indication there was anything was a single seam on one side and a tiny, tiny hole in the top.

Okay fuck it. Plan B.

Very quietly he grabbed onto the chain hooked onto the front ring and let his hands trail along it, feel where it was hooked to the wagon. Find the end.

… What?

Had it really just been fucking looped around something this whole time?

What even was this. What the fuck kind of people-

Okay that didn’t matter. If they wanted to be lazy because he was blind he was going to make them pay for it.

Dings grabbed the chain and ran.

The startled cries were instantaneous at the sound of the chain getting further away. He crashed through brushes, slammed his shoulder into a tree, but kept on running blind through the woods.

He heard the wagon stop, heard some of the men come rushing into the forest with him.

Felt something whoosh behind him before a horrible stabbing pain hit his shoulder blade.

Dings screamed and toppled over into the dirt and leaves, sliding to a stop before trying to push himself up, ignoring the new screaming going down his arm with the added pressure to get himself up again. By the time he had gotten to his knees they were tackling him.

He roared and flailed, managing to elbow one roughly in the chest. Clawed at the dirt and scrambled with his feet in the leaves. While one was reeling from the blow he tossed the other off his back. Unlooped the rope from his arm and found the man’s neck.

Pulled the rope tight. They gagged and reached for his head.

Grabbed onto the large hole in his skull and pulled.

Dings screamed in more agony than he had ever experienced in his life.

His arms went slack and he cried, reaching up to grab at the man’s wrist as he held into his skull, but he felt like he had no strength at all.

The other man had gotten his wind and pinned Dings down again, yelling over to his comrades.

“Get the shackles! He slipped out of the rope!”

Dings could barely hear anything over his own screaming, fingers digging into the hand pulling at his head before they were yanked away and pinned down.

Tears streamed down his face and he screamed until the hand finally left. Until it left to help put cold metal around his wrists. He cried as he was dragged back to the wagon. Cried as he was stood up and the chain was hooked again, this time much more securely.

There was an argument Dings couldn’t quite make out about the chain, who had attached it the first time.

He didn’t hear any of it. He could barely manage to stand.

Someone grabbed the thing that had hurt his shoulder and roughly pulled it out.

He screamed anew, but only for a short moment this time. He felt a little dust fleck down his bones.

Then the wagon started again.

He stumbled and fell, one of the humans beside him quickly yanking him up and getting him back on his feet before shoving him forward.

He walked, head down and tears staining his face.

Defeated.

It was very easy to commit horse theft when you were in a ghost town.

He even saw the owner’s face as they stared through the window, watching Rage approach the poor horse left tied to a watering hole just outside a shop, already fully tacked up and fed.

He untied the horse. Looking it over a minute.

(paused to stare at the owner through the window, through the eyeholes in his brother’s mask. His innards froze a moment when he saw the reflection of his brother’s mask, stolen, in the window.)

He wouldn’t be able to ride like he was used to with his leg still in its condition.

Sidesaddle it was.

He wouldn’t stop until nightfall.

It was the longest week of his life.

Dings had never experienced being a captive before. He had never experienced being without his armor, exposed, at the mercy of humans without a lick of magic to his name. A week of being beaten and berated, being forced to walk alongside the wagon with no food and very little water, no healer for his building injuries.

Sleep did nothing to keep up his strength, the runes on the collar sapping any energy he would have gotten from it and making sure he lost what he had rather than gained any back.

The past few days he had collapsed during the day only to be strangled and dragged for a short distance, the humans laughing before eventually stopping and either pulling him to his feet again or tossing him into the back of the wagon for a few precious hours of rest before throwing him right back out again.

After the first few days he had given up escape.

After the next few he had stopped fighting and making things hard on his captors.

Now he was doing all he could to just survive. Survive and hope that his brother was alive and okay to come save him.

He couldn’t do this on his own. Not anymore.

Finally the wagon stopped for the day. Dings collapsed as soon as he was able, landing roughly onto his knees and slumping as much as the chain around his neck would allow.

“One more day before a sweet payload!” One yelled joyously, the rest of them cheering along with him as they set up camp for the night.

The good thing about nightfall was that he didn’t have to walk anymore. He could rest.

… The bad thing was that it freed his captors to torment him.

“You hear that, bones? Only one more day before we turn in your head for a nice sack of gold.”

A hand reached out, grabbing onto the hole in Dings’ head and pulling. He let out an anguished, defeated cry and kicked backwards, desperate to move along with where the hand was pulling him just so some of the pressure was let up.

When it let go he collapsed to his knees again, ragged breaths huffing from his mouth while the humans laughed and went back to setting up camp for the night.

They had long since found out that his head was weak and painful and had taken full advantage. After all, they could do anything they wanted to him as long as he wasn’t dusted by the time they reached the city. The only things that could really be seen from a distance was the new chunk missing from underneath his left eye, a hole in one of his shoulder blades from an arrow, and the remaining wounds from the bear trap a week ago.

But the way the light reflected off the rest of him didn’t seem quite right.

A week.

A week on his own. Little sleep. Little food.

His foot had healed enough to hold him in a saddle through a canter. And so he cantered, and stole horses, and bought food, and pushed the beasts through the day, late into the evening hours.

And he’d finally found their route. Intercepted them along a path through the woods.

A camp. A wagon.

His brother, battered, and slumped on the forest floor, tied to the back of their vehicle.

He tied his current horse to a low branch by a tree, a pull-away knot that would be easily undone.

Then, when the humans were huddled closest together. When they sat around their fire to eat. He summoned his blaster and fired.

None of them had been expecting it.

Two were taken out instantly while the other two scrambled to their feet, one drawing a sword while the other scrambled for cover. Dings knew that sound. He knew it so well he didn’t even need eyes to see what it was coming from. The screaming just confirmed it.

He lifted his head weakly and started to laugh.

The one with the sword was the one Rage aimed for as he sprinted across the clearing towards where his brother was tied.

He didn’t waste time trying to unwrap the chains from where they’d been secured. His hand grasped Ding’s shoulder and pulled him back, properly out of the way, while the second blaster vaporized the chain and the lower back wheels of the wagon.

Tugged him to his feet.

“Come on.”

They tried to dodge it but failed, screaming as their shoulder was blown clean off. The last one looked to be fleeing completely.

Dings flinched at the touch, but otherwise was too weak to really try and fight him off. At the sound of his voice, however, he stopped. Smiled, face drawn with one tooth and a new part of his face missing.

“Rage?” He mumbled, voice hoarse and weak as blank eye sockets tried to look back at him.

Getting to his feet was hard. He did try, tried very hard to get them under himself and push upwards, leaning heavily onto anything he could feel.

Rage’s face twisted at the sight of his brother’s missing tooth. At the new gap in his face.

“I’m here,” he said, voice low and hoarse. He fired again at the swordsman, and tried to shoot the fleeing one. Missed, in the dark.

His next shot went wide through the camp, trying to fry any others who might be hiding.

“Come on. We need to go.”

He wrapped his only arm around his brother’s waist and tried to haul him across the clearing towards the horse, help him climb up on it.

Get as far away from here as possible.

Any other time, he’d have loved to stay and torture each son of a bitch slowly for what they’d done. For what they’d done to his brother.

Right now, though, he had another priority, and he had to get Dings somewhere safe.

Dings clung to his brother for dear life, tried his best to rush with him to the horse and climb up onto it.

Each action made every part of him scream.

In the dark the missing tooth and gap in his face looked like the only things done to him.

They fled.

Rage couldn’t hold onto his brother once they were on the horse, using his only arm to steer the beast, having to trust his brother was strong enough to hold on.

He pushed the horse back to town--they wouldn’t make it all the way there, no, but they would get close, reaching a clearing eventually where Rage let the horse slow and stumble into a walk.

Slide off.

Try to help his brother down as well.

Hold him tight in one arm.

“Dings. Fuck, Dings, are you okay??”

Dings’ hold was weak, but he somehow managed. He leaned heavily into his brother, hiding his face in his shoulder as they rode far away from his captives.

When they stopped he didn’t so much as slide off as fall. The second his feet touched the ground for a second time they had long lost the strength to stand anymore.

He lay down fully for the first time in a week, too tired to even lift his head.

Dings laughed weakly. Smiled again.

“Kn-knew you’d fucking come… kill them…” He laughed again and started to shake. Tears welled in his eye sockets and he reached out to his brother as much as he could.

Rage reached back with his arm, pulled his brother close and tried to lift him once more, settling his own back against a tree and pulling his brother to lean against his chest. Clothing still half-mangled, but soft enough to lean again.

“Yeah,” he said, voice a whisper as he held his brother close, hand rubbing up and down Dings’ arms, trying to soothe his shaking. “Yeah, yeah, of course I came. Of course I came. I’ve got you now. When was the last time you ate, Dings? When’d you eat?”

“When I was with you…” Dings said, becoming nothing but dead weight as his brother pulled him into position.

He used what little strength he had left to reach up for where he assumed Rage’s face to be. To feel it. To know that it was him in a world of darkness.

It wasn’t like he felt his brother’s face often, if at all, but… he would know it was him. It was just something a little more physical than hearing just his voice.

Rage wasn’t used to his face being touched. Not even by his brother.

He flinched back a moment, before Dings’ hand touched something that was definitely not his brother’s face, but a much more familiar sort of texture and pattern.

Teeth and metal. Patterns dug into it. Rage was wearing his helmet.

“...I’ll put it back on you,” he promised, assuming that’s what Dings wanted. “But let me get you something to eat first.”

He shifted a little, letting go of his brother to shuffle the bag off his shoulder and dig through it for some bread that was slowly going stale from the trek and a flask of alcohol, one of Dings’ favorite sorts.

“Here.”

Dings couldn’t help but look confused for a moment, then laughed a little despite everything. “You’re wearing my helmet?”

He should have been able to see that, even in the dark.

He didn’t reach for the food even though it was being held out to him.

Eye sockets devoid of any light at all just continued to stare upwards.

Rage’s face had fallen into his usual expression of panic and adrenaline--a stretched, stiff sort of grin.

It fell, now, slowly, as he listened to his brother's words.

He set the food down carefully again, bringing the hand up to his brother’s cheek, touching with fingers that couldn’t feel, tracing around his least damaged eye.

“...Dings…?”

His hand fell along with his expression. Flopped to gently rest against his brother’s arm.

“... I can’t see without magic.” He said finally, having to choke out the words. “I think it’s…” His hand moved to drop onto the collar, very familiar runes carved into the surface.

Rage’s eyes fell to the runes.

A snarl curled out of him. He hunched forward, wrapping himself protectively around his brother, his single hand clawing at the lock, spritzing and falling useless with each touch.

“We’re getting that off you,” he hissed, the stump of his other arm joining in trying to hold him tight. “It’s getting off you right away.”

He grabbed the food, shoved the bread into his brother’s hand.

“Eat. Now.”

Change of plans.

No rest.

Not until he was free of those runes.

Dings didn’t have the energy to hold his brother back.

He didn’t complain or whine, just… tiredly took the bread and chewed it on the good side of his face before swallowing.

All of his movements were painfully slow.

He was fighting to stay conscious again. The food felt like it was doing nothing. It was an excursion just to chew and swallow.

He gave him the flask next, pressing it into his hand and mumbling something about not being able to get it open himself without going to some trouble.

Once he’d eaten and drunk, he tried to help his brother up again, back onto the horse, this time sitting behind him and riding as fast as he could to the nearest town.

Dings would open the flask and drink a little, then suddenly realize just how parched he was and drink the rest.

It would numb the pain anyway.

Getting him up would be a task in of itself. His legs were screaming and he was so, so tired. But he could get up onto the horse eventually. Ride in front slumped over for a good hour before his body suddenly went slack, leaning dangerously to one side.

Rage halted the horse and scrambled to haul his brother up by his collar before his arm failed upon contact and he had to wrap his arm around his brother’s chest instead.

He tried to make Dings list to the other side, so at the least he’d be leaning against Rage’s arm.

Either way, he let the horse go slower, from then on. Still walking through the night, but struggling and somehow managing to keep Dings upright.

It was dawn when they reached the town.

He reached the center of town, dismounted the horse, and slung his brother over his shoulder, the only way he could figure to carry him at that point.

He marched to the nearest blacksmith, the first obvious choice if he didn’t know where a locksmith was.

As dawn came the real damage was finally apparent. He hadn’t lost limbs like his brother had, but had suffered many small cuts and carvings into his arms and shoulder blades. One in particular had a hole from where an arrow had once lodged itself. There were a few cracks in his ribs as well, although the most glaring thing outside of the hole in his face was on his sternum.

The symbol that united the humans, much like the Delta Rune, was carved sloppily in the center.

Dings didn’t wake even after they entered town, everyone immediately parting ways and hiding once they realized who exactly was riding in.

The blacksmith looked equally started, despite being a hulking monster with a multitude of arms.

Rage carried Dings in, his only arm occupied in keeping his brother stable. It was a struggle to set him down carefully, but he managed it, careful to not jar his brother’s skull as he was set down against the counter. Keeping his glare steady.

“Get that off his neck.”

He’d carve that rune right off his brother's chest the moment he could.

But that could wait. Wait until he was well again.

The monster wasted no time in lumbering around the counter and leaning down to look at it, gently taking Ding’s head in his hands and rotating it around to try and get a look at the manacle.

He gave it a very thorough look over.

“... I can’t.” They said, straightening up and looking down at them both, nervous. “It’s too tight to his neck to force and I’ve never seen a lock like that in my life.”

Rage grit his teeth behind the helmet and gave the hardest glare he could.

“What’s strange about the lock? Who can get it off?”

His tone brooked no argument. He wouldn’t kill this monster for an honest failing, but if the creature dared try to inhibit his finding somewhere that could succeed, that was another matter entirely.

“Look-” The monster said, reaching down and showing Rage the lock.

It was nothing but a seam with a hole in the top. A small hole. Not a slot for a key, but a perfectly round hole. “There’s nothing for a key. Just a hole. I- I don’t know who could get that off. You would get a better answer from a locksmith. There’s one just on the edge of town.”

Rage didn’t nod. Didn’t give any acknowledgement at all except hauling his brother back over his shoulder with a grunt and saying, “Where?”

“Just that way-” The blacksmith said, pointing, “-right passed the bookshop. You can’t miss it.”

He tried to not flinch.

Hauled his brother over his shoulder and marched out the door, leaving the horse outside and storming towards the locksmith.

Kicking down his entrance. And setting his brother on the table.

“That thing,” he said, voice sharp. “Get it off his neck.”

The locksmith yelped and hid behind his desk until the body was placed atop all of his things. Timidly he sat up and reached for the collar, turning it in his hands and eyeing the small hole.

He looked confused.

Nevertheless he scrambled to a drawer and pulled out a few tools. Tried his best to fit them into the strange hole to no avail.

“I-I don’t know how. I’ve never seen a lock like that before.” They said timidly, looking up to meet Rage’s gaze before very quickly looking down again.

“If you don’t know how to open it,” Rage said, leaning forward menacingly, his voice low, “Then tell me who does. Now.”

The locksmith leaned away, whimpering. “I-I don’t know!” The pleaded, holding up their hands. “It would have to be someone skilled to make something this strange! M-Maybe in a city?”

“Get me a map.”

His voice never wavered. His glare never dropped.

The locksmith scrambled away into the back. “Y-Yes just a moment!”

Dings finally stirred. His head swam and it lolled to the side.

He didn’t even realize they had been riding a horse last he remembered and now he was laying on something hard.

“Rage…?” He mumbled, head moving around the room and going right passed his brother.

Immediately, his tone shifted. His posture softened. He leaned over his brother, touching his shoulder carefully with his hand, and said, “I’m here. Hey. Dings. I’m here. How are you feeling?”

The panic that had started to creep on his face melted. He smiled a little.

“... Tired…”

Realization creeped into his mind.

“... Weren’t we riding?”

The locksmith came hurrying back out, the noise startling Dings and instantly making him curl up where he was on the desk in fear.

Rage kept his hand on his brother’s shoulder, voice soft, his posture entirely different from when the locksmith had last seen him.

“Yeah, sh, hey, it’s okay. We’re gonna get that shit off you. We stopped to figure out how to get it off you.”

The locksmith’s pace slowed once he saw the other was awake, but he approached and held out the map all the same. “H-here you go.”

Dings grabbed for his brother’s hand at the sound of the voice. “O-okay…”

Who the fuck was that. Why were they so close.

Rage took the map without a word, snatching it out of the monster’s hands.

“Can you walk, Dings? I can carry you, but it’ll have to be over my shoulder.”

His voice kept steady, even with the other monster nearby. He just hoped his brother had figured out he was lacking an arm at the moment.

The monster instantly scurried back.

“I-... y-yeah.” He said, his tough facade having faded days and days ago. Right now he didn’t have enough energy to lie like that.

Dings shifted on the desk, his feet touching the floor and shaking before he reached out blindly for his brother.

Rage wrapped an arm around him the moment his feet hit the floor. He no longer paid any attention to the locksmith.

He was intimidated and leaving them with a wide berth. That’s all Rage could’ve asked for.

He walked Dings out, and paused, looking around a moment.

“....I’m finding you a cart to lie on.”

“... Okay.” Dings said, each step feeling like it was sapping what little energy he still had. He leaned heavily on his brother whenever they stopped, his breathing labored and his eye sockets drooped.

Rage wasted no time, finding a small cart and setting his brother down in it, shoving most of the supplies onto the road and shouting, “There’s another horse out by the locksmith’s!” at the presumed owner before taking the driving horse for himself.

He unfolded the map and had the horse walk them out of town.

The nearest city wasn’t far.

It felt like as soon as he could lay down he was out cold again. He was just… so tired. So sore. Everything hurt and he had no energy to deal with it.

So he slept. He would sleep for most of the journey.

The next city was much the same.

Blacksmith. Locksmith. Neither successful. Pointing him in other directions.

The next city was much the same as the one before. And the one after, and the one after that.

With how hard he pushed the animals, with how little he cared to swap them out and take a new one when necessary, they made incredible time between cities, but it was too many failures. Too many monsters shivering away and sniveling of their incompetence.

He realized, finally, he would have to look elsewhere for something to free his brother.

He would have to go to the very sort of creatures who made the collar in the first place.

He would have to go to the humans.

He didn’t much like that idea. Not at all.

So he changed his route and headed West, reaching back with one hand to the cart where Dings rested, squeezing one of his hands and saying, “We’re going home.”

Dings would wake up to eat when prompted and on the occasion he woke up on his own would call for his brother, just something to reassure him where he was and he was safe before going right back to sleep.

He barely moved at all. Didn’t dream. Just small blips of consciousness here and there where he would call for his brother or eat and then fall right back to sleep. Time meant nothing, he couldn’t see the sun. The only thing that indicated what time of day it was was the heat of the sun.

Dings said nothing to those words. He barely had the strength to curl his fingers around his brother’s hand to acknowledge what he had said.

Home.

What that really meant was lost on him for now.

Three days.

That’s how long it took, from the wrong side of the country.

Three days, and it was too long. Rage hadn’t slept properly in weeks, not since Dings was first captured, too busy moving, and stealing horses, and standing watch. He didn’t intend to stop anytime soon, either. Not until his brother was free again.

Still, it was strange to come upon the town they’d left behind, circling around it to try and avoid detection as much as possible.

He hauled the horses up to the front, threw Dings over his shoulder, and used his stump to knock on the door.

Dings had tried to help. Had tried to walk. His feet scraped along the ground, most of his weight going entirely on his brother.

Vrinda opened the door, her look of curiosity fading instantly at the horrible sight in front of her. She mouthed something but no words came out before her arms instantly reached out to help Rage carry her son inside. He was too exhausted to even flinch at the strange touch.

“Treb! Trebuchet!” Their mother screeched, helping Rage guide him through the kitchen and towards their bedroom.

Rage carried him in with Vrinda’s help, not smiling or greeting in any way. Just hauling his brother as fast as he could to the bedroom, following her guidance in that.

“It’s mom,” he said as his brother flinched, bringing him to the bedroom and laying him down as best he could. “You’re safe, here.”

Dings mumbled incoherently as he was laid down on the bed, heavy footsteps quickly jogging through the house before Treb appeared in the doorway and paused, eyes going wide. He rushed over to his family, one hand going on Rage’s shoulder before looking down at his other son.

Scratched and carved and missing a piece of his head. Again.

Vrinda reached to touch the collar but stopped short and pulled away, her eyes filling with dread, then anger. She looked at Rage, who wasn’t looking too well himself, but at the very least had seen a healer.

“What happened?”

As angry as she looked, it wasn’t directed at either of her sons at all. The symbol carved into her son’s sternum was enough to know who had exactly done this.

“Bounty hunters,” Rage said, pulling his shoulder away from his father and turning away, heading right back towards the front door, not looking at either of his parents. Not looking at much of anything. “I’ll be back.”

Treb looked hurt as his son pulled away, the confused as he started right for the door again. He didn’t follow though, instead leaning down to gingerly touch his face. Vrinda, meanwhile, turned and followed him.

“What’s your plan?” She asked, needing to know. Didn’t further press about what had happened but had to know why Rage was leaving again. Just enough to be able to deal with the situation.

Dings didn’t understand much of what was going on around him, but he did hear his brother leave.

He let out an anguished jumble of noise that was supposed to be his brother’s name.

He winced at the noise, set his shoulders tighter, and kept walking.

“It’s a human lock,” he said, voice sharp. “So we need a human locksmith.”

He didn’t look back, marching out and unhooking the horse from the wagon. Ignoring its weary shifting as he climbed up.

“Okay. Be safe.” Were Vrinda’s only words as she watched her son jump back onto his horse.

Dings wailed from inside.

Rage tugged the horse around and forced it into a canter as soon as he could, turning in the direction of the nearest human city.

If he ignored roads and moved in a straight line, he would get there more quickly.

He would go as fast as he could.

Soon, his house was a smudge in the background.

Vrinda would rush back inside where Treb was desperately trying to comfort their son as he wailed and weakly pushed back on his father’s hand.

“Shhh…” She cooed, sliding onto the bed beside him and touching his face. “Rage will be back. It’s alright. It-”

… Something was wrong.

Vrinda stared into the empty eye sockets of her little boy and felt her soul twist. Silently she signed to Treb; ‘He’s blind.’

The skeleton’s broad shoulders slumped. He had been trying to sign to his son all this time and he couldn’t even see it.

He pulled up a chair and sat beside him, taking his hand and holding tightly as Vrinda whispered and hummed reassurances.

Dings would exhaust what little energy he had left crying for his brother before falling asleep.

A week was what Rage promised.

In a week, he delivered.

A new horse. And a man tied on the back of it, bound, gagged, and blindfolded.

He was battered and bruised, but alive and well enough to work. A bag of his supplies was strung to Rage’s back.

He came to a halt outside his parents’ house, grabbing the human by the collar and hauling him off the horse, not bothering with waiting for him to get to his feet before dragging him to the house.

Vrinda was coming out of the kitchen as soon as she saw Rage tugging the human into the door. Her eye sockets widened and she quickly rushed ahead of him without a word, opening the door to their bedroom and holding it open for him. Dings was laying on the bed, his scrapes and cuts having been cleaned and bandaged, as well as the wound on his shoulder and head just to give it some cushion and keep it clean as he slept.

His head lolled to the side to stare blankly at the noise, unsure of who or what it was. He hadn’t gotten any worse, not physically anyway thanks to his mother’s cooking keeping him stable, but his expression was much, much more defeated and depressed than it had been.

Even though Vrinda had told him why he had left it had still been awful knowing that his brother was riding into human territory alone, with one good arm without him. That he was too weak to help or even do much of anything but be a hindrance.

He still walked with a limp, his whole chest lolling hard to one side as he hauled the human in, letting them scramble and make frightened, muffled noises.

He slammed the door shut behind them, locking the human away from the rest of his family before yanking him up by the hair and tugging off the blindfold.

“Get that shit off his neck and I won’t break you in half.”

Dings jumped at the slam of the door, the sound of something scrambling around the room. He recoiled from it all before hearing Rage’s voice.

“... Rage?” He sounded hopeful for the first time in weeks.

The locksmith nodded rapidly, his mouth still gagged and his hands still tied, eyes wide with fear despite the bruises and scrapes on his face.

“I’m here,” Rage said to his brother, yanking the locksmith’s hands up and slicing through the binding with a bone.

He was onehanded, but he had learned to do quite a bit with only one hand in the last month.

He dropped the pack of the humans’ tools and walked away from him, heading to the other side of his brother’s bed, hand bumping against his shoulder.

Watching the locksmith. Eyes cold and in warning.

“Hurt him and you won’t be permitted to die.”

The locksmith worked quickly despite his trembling hands; leaned over to peer at the strange lock before bending down and grabbing a few tools.

He started to pick the lock, his hands needing to get close enough that they touched Dings’ bones, just enough for him to feel.

Flesh. The distinct feeling of warm flesh. Fingers.

He cried out in fear and flinched away.

Rage held his brother’s shoulder tighter.

“It’s fine,” Rage said. “I’m watching him. We’re getting that shit off of you. Just endure this.”

The locksmith had flinched away too, although his eyes had locked onto Rage’s, as if waiting to be blasted away.

Dings let out a weak little whine and swallowed, doing his best to keep still as he felt the human go back to work. He shivered at the feeling of his hands so close, head turned away even though he couldn’t see him to begin with.

It took some work, but it finally released after a few tense, horrible minutes.

It clicked and the hinges rotated off, the man grabbing the collar and quickly pulling it off.

The magic that kept Dings running reignited. It was an immense relief for his soul.

But horrible agony for his head.

He screamed and clutched at his eyes as his magic flared, eyes filling every crack and empty space inside of his skull until they were a near solid purple.

It had been weeks. Weeks without sight, living in a world of darkness and then all at once he could see everything for miles and miles.

So he screamed and clutched his face, the locksmith rapidly backing away from them both.

Rage scrambled forward, wrapping his arm around Dings and holding him close, trying to make some sort of soothing motion. Maybe it didn’t work--he was too ragged. Worn thin and violent from the last month. But he tried.

“I’m here,” he said, holding him with one arm. “I’m here. I’m here.”

He pressed himself into his brother, clung to him as he panted and shook. Did what he could to pull in his magic and redirect it to where it should be going instead; healing and energy.

The problem with the rune he had made in his haste was that, if he let it, it would constantly use what energy he had to give him something that he had no right to use. So it had to be dialed back manually, had to be controlled.

It took a few horribly long minutes to pull it back in. The lights faded and died one by one before only the usual three were left.

He stopped screaming, but didn’t stop shaking and holding onto Rage.

Rage didn’t pull away, not so long as his brother wanted to hold onto him.

Didn’t mind the human in the room. Not right now, even as he kept an eye on him.

“I’m here. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Dings would hold onto his brother as he caught his breath, still shaking, but… already feeling so, so much better. All three eyes looked up at him and he smiled, then turned and looked at the locksmith backed against the wall.

He went tense from head to toe.

Rage kept holding him, following the gaze.

“...Stay here. Mom will take care of you. I’ll be back once I get him out of here.”

“Okay…” Dings said, fearful and not caring enough to try and hide it.

Vrinda and Treb waited on the other side of the door, his father slumped in a chair while Vrinda paced around nervously.

Rage nodded and slowly let go of him. Picking up the blindfold and wrapping it around the human’s head again, tying it with one hand and his teeth. More gently than he had the first time, assured the human wouldn’t struggle. Not now.

He opened the door and put his hand on the human’s shoulder, leading him out of the room.

Vrinda stopped pacing as soon as she spotted him, staying silent and waiting until he was passed to rush into the room and hold her boy now that he could finally see and was free of dying from being drained of the magic that kept him alive.

Treb froze in his chair, eyes wide as he watched the human be lead out of their house.

Rage led the human outside. Past the horse. Into the fields.

“Thank you for helping my brother,” he said, still walking.

Then, his hand left the human’s shoulder.

The blast aimed for his head.

#mayem #BOINK!#the gaster brothers #RP log #wartime #undertale #rage #dings #graphic depictions of violence #torture #murder #trebuchet #vrinda #abduction

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askmicrowaveayem · 7 years

Text

Boink! The Gaster Brothers Pt. 7

[Previous]

[Archive] [Cast]

He didn’t see it. Didn’t see how similar it was to his own expression.

Just saw the panicked way the intruder was trying to fight her off, and the way he failed, and the dust left behind.

Vrinda and Treb both safe, and Dings in the other room.

This is what the intruders had brought. Dust and inconvenience.

He looked up at Treb and Vrinda, still breathing heavily, skull in his arms, and shaking in his sleepwear.

Treb stood breathing heavy too, but Vrinda looked calm and collected once the job was done. She stood and was about to speak when a scratchy little voice came from the hall.

“Mom? Dad? Rage? Okay?”

The father’s eyes widened and he rushed passed Rage to head into the hall, scoop up Dings, and quickly take him back to his room.

Rage watched him go, and his legs finally gave out.

He slid down the wall, curling up on himself and still clutching his blaster, even though it was the source of his fatigue.

He stared at the piles of dust, to the doorway where Treb had left, and then up at Vrinda, his throat cloying.

He’d never seen monsters die before.

A faint, crooked smile wobbled over his features as he looked up at her.

Vrinda approached him, knelt down beside him, and looked apologetic. “Are you alright?”

He nodded, still not releasing the blaster, just holding it close. “Tired…”

He still wasn’t very good at using a lot of magic. A month of training had helped, but it didn’t make up for a lifetime of suppressing it.

He glanced around the room once more, hardly able to keep entirely still, he was so alight with nerves.

“Haha… guess they clean up easier than humans..”

Vrinda looked back at the three piles of robes and dust. “... Dust likes to stick to things.”

A hand went to his arm. “Can you stand?”

He nodded and, with her hand on his arm, shakily got to his feet.

Instead of leading him back to his room, she lead him into the kitchen and sat him down to make some tea, something to hopefully sooth his nerves.

Usually you couldn’t really sleep much after something like that, even if you were tired.

He was still grinning a little to himself when he sat down, patiently waiting for the tea and taking it with a quiet ‘thank you’ as if it were just another morning and he was being given his usual drink.

Vrinda would set the full teapot in front of him, sit and drink a little herself in silence, and then head up to check on Dings and make sure he was back asleep when Treb came down.

His father gave his shoulder a squeeze and signed asking if he was alright.

Rage drank his tea, looking up at Treb and smiling a little, signing back, ‘I’m fine. You?’

Trebuchet nodded and made himself some tea as well before settling into his usual spot.

‘You did a good job back there.’

He grinned a little wider, hid a little more behind his tea.

‘Thanks. Glad.’

Treb would fall silent and contently sit and drink his tea while Vrinda worked upstairs. She didn’t ask Treb to help, knowing he would want to rest and take it easy. She knew he didn’t like to fight anymore.

She walked down with the dusty robes, carrying them outside and hiding them in the barn to be burnt once daylight arrived, then carried back in a bucket full of water and a rage to begin cleaning up the dust.

Rage watched her return with the bucket of water and rag, and finished his tea, trotting up the stairs behind her.

Vrinda was rolling up her sleeves when Rage got to the doorway of their bedroom. She looked surprised, having not expected him to follow.

“Feeling better?”

He nodded, his blaster no longer present in his arms.

“I can scrub,” he said.

There was magic and affection stopping the aches in his bones. His strange, ugly weapon had worked. He’d been praised. He’d stopped someone from trying to hurt him without even having to get close, even when he was attacked and his soul taken control of.

He was feeling great.

His mother smiled and nodded, holding out a brush. “If you wish.”

She would set about cleaning then, dipping the rag into the water, ringing it out, and wiping down the wall the monster had been decapitated against. She paused only to slide Treb’s heavy axe back under the bed.

Most of the piles of dust were swept away and Rage rolled his pants up to his femurs, getting down on his knees and pouring a bit of water on the floor, beginning to scrub the rest away.

Vrinda was right. Dust did stick.

He kept scrubbing all the same, focused on his task and not minding when the loosened dust coated him somewhat instead.

He’d worn his boss’s blood for over a week, bringing Dings home.

This was nothing.

Vrinda would work silently with Rage cleaning the room, stopping only once the sun began to rise.

“You can keep going if you want, or stop. I’m going to start breakfast. Alright?”

He nodded, not looking up.

“It’ll be done by breakfast,” he said.

Vrinda nodded and headed down into the kitchen to start breakfast, leaving Rage to clean up. The door was firmly closed behind him, not wanting Dings to come out and see the scene inside their room.

A bit later she would come back up and knock. “Breakfast is ready.”

Rage did what he could on the floor, scrubbing the dust loose and trying to mop it up and keep it in the water bucket.

It looked much better than it had the night before, the areas of the floor he’d scrubbed looking cleaner. One would have to look to find a trace of the dust--aside from the bits that now clung to him.

He nodded and got up at her knock, doing his best to wash the dust off him, though there was little he could do without cleaner water and a change of clothes.

“What are we telling Dings?”

“Robbers. We fought them off.” Vrinda said, the door opening to hand him a change of clothes. She refilled their rooms wash basin too, and had changed her own clothes.

He nodded and took the clothes, stripping down and scrubbing himself clean in the new washbin before pulling the other clothes on.

He trotted downstairs quickly after that, having made his new family wait for long enough.

Dings had taken over the task setting the table and beamed once Rage came down.

“Rage! Mom sss hhheee rrrrsss!” He slurred, signing ‘Mom said you helped scare off the robbers!’ along with it.

At least some of the noises were right.

Rage grinned and looked down, making it to the bottom of the stairs before he made himself look up again to respond. “I just startled them enough your mom could take them by surprise. That’s all.”

“Ool!” Dings said, signing ‘cool’ along with it, then quickly started off again to finish setting the table.

Vrinda’s voice came from the kitchen. “Rage? Can you go fetch your father and tell him breakfast is ready? He’s outback.”

Treb was burning the robes.

He nodded and headed out, following the smoke to find Treb.

He approached quietly, watching the robes burn, and stood beside him.

“Ms. Vrinda says breakfast is ready.”

Treb nodded and stood with him for a bit longer before tossing the charred fabric over a few times with a pitchfork, then patting Rage on the back and leading him inside.

It was another morning to celebrate. Celebrate a victory.

Breakfast smelled wonderful. Eggs, sausage, potatoes, and a special dessert of mince pie afterwards with plenty of tea to wash it down.

Dings asked plenty of questions.

‘How did they get in?’

‘What were they going to take?’

‘How many were there?’

Rage followed him back inside, sitting down at his usual place and relishing breakfast--with little sleep and using so much magic in the night, he only realized he was ravenous after the first bite of eggs.

He rolled his eyes at Dings’ questions. “It’s not that exciting to be robbed. We used to get robbed all the time. They just kind of dunder around and make life difficult.”

Dings sort of pouted at that, having made up his own amazing story in his head about what had happened.

Vrinda and Treb nodded along in agreement, making the night out to be mostly uneventful and a minor inconvenience. “They might have gotten wind of all of our books.” She explained, “But we all came together and scared them off, so don’t worry about it.”

Rage saw his brother’s face fall and snorted. “You wanna know some really exciting happening in real life, I’ll tell ya about knights.”

He’d met a few at markets, watched them from a distance, been on the unfortunate end of mockery from one human one--but they all had stories that they told loudly and eagerly. And he’d liked to listen.

And they all were stories that happened far, far away from here.

“El el!” Dings said, signing ‘tell me! tell me!’ along with it.

Their parents didn’t seem to mind the conversation at the table for now. It had been a long night and they were all tired.

… Except for Dings. But they would look lively for him.

Rage nodded and ate some more pie, thinking about what story to tell. “Okay. Well. I met this guy in the market place, he he told me the story of Ferulean, a knight who had a stone that turned him invisible. He..”

Dings would listen eagerly as he ate his pie and Vrinda wouldn’t interrupt even as they finished. Treb would listen too, his wife moving about to clean up on her own and allow them all some time to rest and just enjoy the morning without having to rush about to get their chores finished.

Rage kept talking, embellishing the story here and there when he forgot parts or remembered the original story to be boring, telling them of the way Ferulean had used his magic stone to outwit and sneak about, saving people and discovering lost secrets.

And if the only characters in the original story were human?

Rage never made it explicit.

When he was done, he realized he’d completely failed to help clean.

No one seemed to mind. Vrinda was the only one who didn’t seem capable of sitting still or resting, even when she was running off very little sleep. She had cleaned up, gone to see if Rage had finished cleaning the room, and then headed out to do her chores for the day.

Treb waited until the story was finished, gave Rage a smile, and then stood up to do the same.

Dings made noises and would ask for more stories as they did too.

Rage nodded, jogging out with Dings to do their chores, and thinking of another story to tell.

He remembered the axe upstairs, hidden under Treb’s beside, and told Dings the story about the thief whose axe could cut off heads so cleanly, “the heads would still be alive as he ran away.”

“The thief would take the bodies, leave the heads, and steal their valuables right in front of them,” he said, feeding chickens. “So Sir Rattigan confronted him one day and tried to stop him--but his head was cut off!”

Dings made squeaking ‘oos’, ‘aahs’, and ‘eees’ as the story was told, having a mix of thinking the story was cool and gross at the same time. But that’s what made it so good.

He pulled his head from the chicken coop in order to sign, ‘Why did their heads stay alive? Was the axe magic?’

“Some say that,” Rage said, nodding, grinning, “Others said it was sharpened so finely, the bodies never even realized their heads had left.”

“Ool!” Dings said again, voice echoing from the chicken coop as he pulled out a few more eggs and put them in his arms.

He would run inside to put the eggs where they belonged as usual before running back and heading to feed the mules with his brother, nagging him to tell stories all throughout.

When Rage finished the story about Rattigan--whose severed head was found along the side of the road by a poor boss monster girl who agreed to help him recover his stolen body--he told Dings about the knight who’d been so lost in a forest he simply sat down and lived in it for a whole fifty years, until he was covered completely with moss and leaves and had turned to stone. Another, about one who learned to slip between mirrors and traveled like that until his beloved threw a mirror he was meant to pop out of into the ocean. Another, who was facinated by windmills and learned to make one fly.

All stories were true, he promised. Swear-on-my-life and the fickle faces of the moon.

Dings was amazed by each and every one. When told they were true, however, he playfully shoved his brother and let out a squeaky ‘nuh-uh!’

“Yeah, they are!” he said, making a face. “I even met some of these people!”

He had--he had, but he wouldn’t go looking for them at all, or mention them outside of this family.

He didn’t want to find out he’d been lied to more than he already was.

“Nuh-uh!” Dings squeaked again, shoving Rage a little more, but was still grinning.

“It’s true!” Rage said, taking the shove and huffing at him. “I wouldn’t lie to you, would I?”

The little skeleton narrowed his eyes at him. “Nnnooo.” He said, although signed ‘I guess not.’

Then he thought of something else.

‘Are you good at magic yet? Can I see?’

He paused, surprised at the sudden change in question, and.. Wasn’t sure if he was lying or not when he said, “I’m still pretty bad at it. And my magic’s all weird. Probably because I wasn’t using it for so long.”

He shrugged.

“Awww.” Dings pouted, then switched to signing when he didn’t know the words for what he wanted to say. ‘That’s okay! The more practice the better you’ll be. You already know a lot of wingdings!’

If he was getting so good with understanding his signs then that surely meant his magic would follow.

He smiled down at the other and tried not to be embarrassed again. “Thanks. Yeah, I’ll keep trying. How’s your magic going?”

He didn’t get to see Dings practice anymore, now that he was doing it mostly on his own.

“Ood!” Dings grinned, summoning a regular attack, then doing away with it and summoning a blue one in quick succession. ‘I can do blue really fast now!’

He grinned, giving Dings a thumbs up. “That’s great!”

“Tanks!” He said, that being the longest word he could manage right now. ‘I want to be strong like you and mom.’

Apparently dad wasn’t strong.

“I’m not strong,” he said, quickly waving the thought off. He hadn’t even been able to kill the robbers last night--just stun them. It had been enough, but he could’ve done more. “Is Mr. Trebuchet not strong?”

He’d decapitated two monsters in one stroke.

‘Dad is a baby.’ Dings signed, then laughed. From what he saw Vrinda bossed him around like nothing and his dad loved to nap and sit around. He might have been physically strong but he wasn’t mentally strong like the little one thought, like he wanted to be.

His mother commanded the entire household. She was the voice and kept things in order. Rage had taken initiative and helped him escape their captor, even if he didn’t know exactly how.

Dings tapped the good side of his skull, ‘Strong!’

Rage snorted. “You’re already pretty strong, munchkin.”

He looked a little flustered, his signs getting a little meek. ‘No I’m not.’

He raised his brow. “Why d’you say that?”

Dings shrugged. He wasn’t sure, but… he didn’t feel strong, physically or mentally.

Rage huffed a little, looking down at him, frowning again. “...you remember when you first met me?”

“Yah.” Dings nodded.

“You kept struggling,” Rage said, looking away but watching for movement out of the corner of his eye, in case Dings started signing. “...even after he put the ring on you and hit you and you were tied up. You didn’t give up.”

Dings looked a little flustered again, eyes going down. He made a tiny ‘oh’ noise.

Rage nodded, looking away more. “...you didn’t know this, but… he was struggling a lot with you around… he wasn’t normally like that…”

He hung his head a little, watching the ground. Watching his feet.

“I gave up way faster, when he first got me..”

Dings looked up at his brother, his embarrassment fading to a look that his mother sometimes had; resolved in a decision he had yet to express.

The little skeleton took his hand and signed with the other.

‘You protect me and I’ll make sure you never give up again. We’ll have each other.’

Rage looked up, surprised, and grinned, holding out his hand. “Deal.”

Dings grinned, squeezing his brother’s hand and then giving him a quick hug before going back to their chores.

That evening, before the reading lesson, Rage met Vrinda in the kitchen, and shut the door.

“I need to know more magic.”

Vrinda smiled even though she had yet to turn around. She continued to clean up, back still turned as she spoke.

“Our lessons will continue tomorrow at the usual time.”

He nodded and took his place by sink, washing and drying the dishes, and helping put them away.

The night would carry on like normal, but the next day Rage would follow Vrinda and Dings to their practicing spot. Dings would finish and then head home before her attention would turn on her other son.

“More magic.” She said simply, approaching him. “Show me what you used last night.”

With a nod, he summoned the skull again.

It was thinner and longer than his own skull, almost oval, with a smooth forehead and jaw and little nubs of teeth.

It sat in his arms, heavy and motionless.

She smiled, “It’s wonderful.”

Vrinda straightened and summoned an attack, throwing it into one of the nearby trees, giving him a target.

“Show me how you fired it last night.”

He shifted it in his arms, using one to steady it and the other to aim.

Hand on the brow of the skull, its eyes lit up with lightning a moment before the blast shot from between its teeth and scraped the side of the bone, missing narrowly.

He frowned.

Vrinda nodded, watching before making a suggestion.

“Use your magic to hold it, not your arms.”

He frowned a little more. “How?”

“The same way you grabbed those leaves before.” Vrinda explained, removing the bone she had flung into the tree with a yellow glow of her eyes, hovering it over her palm.

“Set it down and try to lift it. Don’t be discouraged if you can’t. It’s a heavy thing to lift, it looks like.”

He nodded again and slowly set the blaster down on the ground, watching it list to one side. He took another breath and tried to pick it up with magic the same way he’d done with the leaves, and the same way he caught his brother when he fell or jumped in bad places.

It was lighter than Dings was, at least, and seemed a little more cooperative with his magic.

It was something he had to think about--he noticed lifting it in a very real way, like a pressure on the side of his head, but the skull did rise from the ground and come to bob along by his shoulder, a little uneven and nose dipping downward.

Vrinda smiled, “Good. Freeing your hands will give you not only range-” She gestured to the skull, “-but also-” She summoned a bone in her hand and pressed it close to her chest. “-allow you to still defend yourself should you need to.”

“If you can learn to control this with your magic, learn to aim it and keep it steady without using your hands, then also summon attacks in front of you and in your hands, that leaves you with every area covered. Can you swivel this to look behind you?” She pointed to the skull.

The skull. In front of him. In his hands.

That. Was a lot of places for attacks.

Didn’t most people only use one at a time? Two at the most?

He wasn’t good at controlling and rationing his magic, how was he going to do three?

Still, he grit his teeth and nodded, swiveling the skull so it was at his back, staring back towards the house.

“Good. Spin it back around. Hold it. Try to summon an attack in your hands at the same time.” Vrinda said, summoning a row of bones in front of her, levitating one, and then another in her palm.

“It’s a juggling act. It’s very difficult to do, but you have already created something that I never knew possible.” She smiled, “So you should be able to do this as well, with enough practice.”

He nodded, keeping his mouth shut and trying to get the skull to spin in a pattern, first. Trying to get used to keeping it a certain distance around him, above his eyeline, so he could see things coming without a blind spot. Trying to keep the speed consistent.

Kept his mouth shut, because if he opened it, he’d be panting from exertion already.

When he finally thought he had the skull movement down, he held out his hands and summoned a bone-- stopped, abruptly, when the skull stopped as his concentration shifted. Got the skull moving again. Felt it stutter to a halt once more.

Squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, thinking of the cane in his hand, and lightning in his mouth, and furiously gave the skull a shove, gripping the long bone like a club in his hand, glaring at the skull until it moved properly again.

The world swayed when he opened his eyes.

Vrinda approached, standing behind him and keeping her arms out, just in case he stumbled. She didn’t want him to fall if he pushed himself too hard, but this was what training was; pushing yourself to your limits and beyond. Going further and further when you didn’t think you could.

Proving everyone wrong.

“Good. Stay steady. Hold that. Keep both up. Aim your skull. Don’t fire it. Just aim. Keep your attack in your hand, don’t let it fade.”

He gave up on keeping his mouth shut, gasping air in and glaring at the ground.

He kept the bone gripped tightly between his hands. Kept the skull rotating steadily above his head.

“Aim where..”

“Everywhere. Keep it rotating. Aim at imaginary targets. Turn then hold steady as though something is there. As though you’re about to fire.”

Vrinda’s hands hovered just short of his arms, not touching him but ready to keep him on his feet. “You’re doing well.”

She said ‘you’re doing well’ and he wanted to spit ‘I’m barely doing’, but didn’t.

The skull above his head began to pause every few moments. Its movements becoming erratic. Pointing in one direction, then swiveling to another without keeping to the pattern around his head.

He breathed slower, still strained and feeling like his core was overheating, but managing to keep it moving and in the air and moving quickly while his hands gripped the bone as tight as they could, trying to keep it solid between his fingers.

Vrinda said nothing, watching him and there to keep him steady. Even if he pushed too hard and he fainted it would be alright. Fainting from strain wasn’t necessarily good, but it would give them both an idea of what was too far and what wasn’t.

He was learning. He was learning how to control something she had never seen before.

It swelled her with pride.

He would faint before he dissolved the bones.

He would fire off a shot before he fainted.

If he was going to fuck up, he was going to earn it.

It was with that in mind, with ragged breathing and gnashed teeth, that he twisted the skull around to point at the base of a large tree, and fired.

Vrinda was there to catch him, arms looping under his and keeping him from hitting the ground. She would guide him to the ground gently and rest his head in her lap.

She would stay with him until he woke.

He woke up slowly, and shivering with a chill over his bones.

He didn’t open his eyes right away. Just grimacing. Trying to pull his clothes tighter around his bones.

“Shhh..” Came Vrinda’s voice, a skeletal hand resting gently on his head. “You did well.”

He flinched at the touch before recognizing it.

Accepting it.

Remembering what happened.

He took a deep breath and kept his eyes shut.

He’d fainted.

She wouldn’t appreciate a ‘sorry,’ and he didn’t really want to give one.

So he stayed silent.

Vrinda would sit there with him in silence. She wouldn’t speak or push him to get up or say anything.

She had said what she wanted; that she was proud.

That was all that needed to be said.

#mayem #BOINK!#the gaster brothers #dings #rage #vrinda #trebuchet #undertale #rp log

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