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thedubiouscat · 6 years

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Walk of Shame

Blue. A deathly pale blue flashed against the battered, hollow hall like god thrown lightning within a terrible storm, dying all in a mournful silver come blue. Battled sounds, like that of a warring banshee reveling in the rush of sacred battle, slammed against the smooth journeyed floor, flinging their intended force across the now shattered tiles as repeated judgement commenced unhindered. This was not the first fated encounter of wanted battle, nor truly the last of them. She exceedingly knew this with a deadly passion… yet still she cared not of the pain she inflicted. The torturous agony imposed upon her youthful flesh a deterrent to her sinister action, yet this would never stop her knowingly liquid step for long. Never had the cruelly delivered blue and black marks of wishful force shifted her all-knowing grin of manic glee as she bestowed her repulsive ‘mercy’ upon others. Slowly Sans contemplated her seemingly gleeful continuation of her past errors that slanted towards a murderous inclination. Her ‘innocent’ cherub smile flashed at every bone breaking strike as if she was purposely mocking him, mocking his given pain and grief, and taunting his judge given wrath. Was it that simple smile she had used when she wholeheartedly tore through Papyrus, crushing his bones with a dark curiosity that put even Gaster to shame? Was it that hideously malicious smile of twisted tooth she had used when she had betrayed the given love and devotion of a wanting mother, exiled from the family that was held dear to her old goat heart? No! The impervious smile she played Sans was not the blighted grin of one in stolen control, it was the savage grin that was the worn habit of an animal bound by its primal instincts. Instincts used solely when hunting its much sought after prey and reveling in the ensuing chase. Only now and then did her endlessly dark and hollow eyes of lost innocence betray a hint of a crimson coloured intelligence truly befitting what she was… a murderer. Quickly he launched yet another tireless array of conjured, living bone towards her hapless form and hoped that it would end her miserable existence, and again she nimbly evaded each strike with liquid motion. Purposely she danced, a smile upon her cherry lips, through his powered barrage of cold calculated vehemence. Taunting his grieved mind with a lullaby of childlike laughter as she quickly evaded all of his gavel strikes with an experienced precision that betrayed her young age. Again he struck with all of his gathered might, and again she remained completely unscathed. Abruptly she turned and bounded over the endlessly thrown blue assault as if it were but a small hindrance towards her ultimate efforts. Slowly as Sans judged her, his mind scanning through every minute detail of her flawed and twisted being, did his dormant marrow become inflamed by a rapid frenzied passion of determined will that bubbled and boiled within his bones, a will made strong to avenge all those who had fallen to her false ‘mercy’. Gently did she descend upon the broken floor, a wondrous angel of haloed death upon a myriad of new destruction. Not even a forced solitude within all the seven hells would be able to contain her unstable insanity that had been nurtured by repeated dust born death. Steadily she began to ready her much worn weapon of delighted choice, an ordinary dagger stained by the lingering dust of those who fell before her terrible might, and expertly parried his repeated barrage of bountiful bones. Steadily she inched forward, bones breaking beneath her small feet, a tattered map of repeated experience and developed memories of high detail her obvious advantage. The silent dust of the innocently fallen had covered her tattered clothing like a trusted armour strapped to her small developing frame. A visible holy testament to her elated intent of perfect genocide. With an enduringly determined will Sans readied yet another potent cascade of white washed bone. Each containing his condensed and undiluted fury, a strange beckoning force of fearsome rage that welcomed brutish battle, and a persisting guilt that leaned towards cherished memories of his departed brother. With all of his might once again gathered he let loose each deadly strike with calculated need and endless want. Wishing upon the countless departed for each gavel born strike to poison the vile and vicious determination that she held oh so dear. Each carefully conjured blow slammed heavily onto the once gilded surroundings, slowly and deliberately destroying the chosen court. Manically the young girl grinned, her deathly weapon glowed faintly with a determined ‘love’ as she slowly edged closer towards Sans. His extremely fragile form an alluring target for her demented ‘affection’. Her darkened blade of wicked use glinted maliciously as wave upon restless wave of a potent, abysmal miasma formed across its well-used, dust touched surface. A scarlet intent radiated around her petite youthful form and her penetrating eyes, an endless whirlpool of black and red, bore deeply into Sans’ progressively tiring bones that silently rattled due to the vast exhaustion of their forced battle. With continually exhausted grace he painstakingly swallowed at the still, heated air and panted faintly from a grown battle-fatigue. It whistled breathlessly within his blue covered cage of natural bone restriction and pounded upon his phantom heart, a set rapid rhythmic beat, as if it were an endlessly beaten drum of tribal use. He daringly continued as each endlessly repeated confrontation grew exceedingly longer than the last. He continued to believe in a just victory where only she would truly lose, that her vile determination would wilt under his righteous onslaught. Even as she expertly danced and weaved between his summoned, blue tinged assault as if she already knew each possible outcome. Even as doubts began to slowly began to trickle into his heavily enclosed mind, he still believed that he could force her downfall, that he could destroy her determination. Sadly, not even Sans’ dwindling confidence could forever endure against her tireless assault of his absolute ruled verdict. Even as he wantonly dyed her vibrant red, soul-rich essence a forceful bitter blue as to firmly grab hold of her knowingly determined core; even as he excessively battered her small struggling form against the crack ridden passage walls and shattered floors… she gleefully endured. Her wide, sinister grin was a clear indicator to him of the bone shattering futility of his duty-bound conflict against her murderous inclinations. Even as sheer exhaustion came to claim Sans’ sweat drenched body – a made construct of magically modeled bone and turbulent magic born from excess soul – he struggled against her evasive stride and passionately renewed his assault against her – a broken phantom clad in stolen flesh – once again. Her eerie, youth filled laughter boomed towards him across the hollow, travelled hall. Her sickly sweet, widened grin of murderous glee stretched ever further as, finally, her ultimate victory loomed ever nearer towards her outstretched grasp. A soulless prelude towards a wanted nothing. Sans then abruptly winced, a minute battle-dulled pain spread throughout his quickened marrow as heavy exhaustion took it’s sought after toll. A frozen shiver ran down his bent spine as the hopeless thought of her victory dawned on him, and petrified fear began to echo within his dull cobalt blue eyes. His combatant’s ever faithful bladed weapon then viciously flashed as a fulfilling-final and deadly strike bit deeply in his magic-bound essence. His face widened in deathly shock as surprise rattled his stunned mind… she had finally won. Listlessly Sans looked down towards his now torn clothes as an endless, deep red seeped forth, a flowing froth of death, from his broken bones. It bore upon their once smooth surface a myriad of chips and cracks. His burning red marrow now timid in movement trickled down towards his dragged feet. How could she, a vile fiend of primal nightmare, have endured against his might? How had she nimbly evaded all of his conjured strikes and remain completely unscathed by the unearthly strength of each willing blow towards her young flesh? Slowly Sans succumbed to bitter gravity, a slave to its absolute force, as new born dust formed at the clear rough edges of his tired limbs, his sworn duty now undone. All his forced pain and woeful regret, was it all but a useless game of murderous pleasure to her? Slowly, with deliberate care, did Sans drag himself up from the battered floor. He would not give her the simple satisfaction of viewing his powdered death, and so, lethargically, did he walk away with a noticed limp in his step as he inched towards his departed brother. ‘Affectionately’, she watched as he retreated down the abandoned passage of fatal conflict, a twisted sense of pure LOVE radiating towards his fleeing blue clad back. Silently, she wondered forward, step after spent step, but not towards her foe – a dead man stumbling. No, she went on. Poisoned silence her trusting companion through her darkened journey of blighted intent, down the battle crippled hall and onward did her steps flow, liquid upon the broken tiles. Fluid motion unimpeded, by shame she dare not acknowledge.

#undertale #thedubiouscat #fanfic #fanfiction #sans #chara #sans & chara #judgement #sins #genocide #murder #death #writing #story #combat #theanonymousduck

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