hadriel_logs | Event Log: Keepsakes

Entry tags:

Event Log: Keepsakes

Who: Everyone participating in the event!
What: The event log for the Keepsakes event!
Where: All around the city
When: October 15th-October 19th
Warnings: A bunch of random crap.

Well, Hope and Delight are messing with the door again, but at least this time dragons aren't involved, right? This attempt goes a bit better - sure, no one gets sent home, but if everyone will just look under their seats, they'll find a FREE [INSERT SOMETHING YOU MAYBE DIDN'T WANT AT ALL HERE]! Awesome! So nice! Yup, throughout these few days people will be finding things from home - something they loved, something they used all the time, something they hated, something they totally forgot they even had. All sorts of cool stuff!

Well, they might not actually find it. Their neighbor might, or a complete stranger. And who knows where it could turn up? At the park, half-buried? In the Silent Hill zone, kept safe by a horrifying monster? Or hey, maybe in somebody's underwear drawer. Awkward. Better try to find your stuff, or find the owner of whatever weird crap you found. It could be something important.

► This log covers October 15th-October 19th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If you somehow manage to die in this event, please let us know here, and also what the hell?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

What's there to talk about, right? What d'ya talk about when the guy doesn't exist?

[Doing his best to lighten the mood somewhat, if possible. Only that's, uh, real hard, it turns out, when the mood is so dreadfully, impossibly...dark. Just feels like it's gettin' darker all the time.]

Either way, looks like these pages right here are, uh...well, they're here to stay, I'm guessing.

Heh. I guess, uh. More than we t-thought.

[She looks at the page again, and then holds it a bit out from herself, towards him like an offering.]

Do you... w-want it? I guess we could just throw it away, or uh, put it in the stove or something.

[She sure as hell doesn't want to keep it.]

[He goes ahead and takes it from her, folds it up and stashes it away in his pocket. He's always got just enough room in those pockets of his. Benefits of knowing what he knows, remembering what he was able to remember. Can't quite negate space and time the way the old man could (should? would? is? fuck but if there isn't a real proper syntax to refer to stuff like this), but he can bend it around a little. 'Bout all he can ask for. Anything more would be, uh...not good, he's thinkin'.

His grin twists slightly, ruefully.]

Ripped up across space and time and still makin' life hell for us, huh?

Something like t-that.

[She wants to do something, to thank him, but also to apologize. It feels like she's passed off a burden. That now she can safely forget, pretend it didn't happen, sweep it under the rug, but he has to remember. Like she has forced him into possession of a terrible secret she no longer wants to keep.

She picks at her fingernails for a few seconds before continuing.]

What was he like, for you? Do you remember?

[Maybe an inevitable question. He looks away for a moment so she don't have to see his sockets darken with memory, with not-memory, with fractured imaginings of things he can't recall.

What was he like?

Does he remember?

Ain't that a question.]

He was...

[Heh. Weird. It's...hard to talk about, almost. Not just almost, either. It's like the words get clotted up in his skull, sticking fast to the contours of his mind like bits of bubblegum, or pebbles caught in the mud.

What can he say about the doc? Most of it's just a haze. That might be the worst part of all this - knowin' that the doc frustrated him, outraged him, made him angrier and more prone to caring than almost anyone, but not being able to know why.]

Smart. And, uh, kind of an asshole. Liked to lord everything over ya. Always had to be right.

[He remembers that well enough.]

Yeah.

[He repeats the word grimly, almost mournfully, as he bows his skull.]

He always had to be right.

[She wants to laugh, because she couldn't tell him why, either, but that seems familiar. Snatches of feelings, between worry, and happiness, and his pride. Always his pride.]

Yeah.

[She closes her eyes for a moment, remembering the note, keeping him in her mind as she speaks.]

He was always trying to... be this idea of what he s-should be. Make us what he wanted, but parts of him would... slip through. Like one day you'd see him laugh, just once, and you'd realize, h-he was lying to himself as much as he lied to you.

[Hitting the cup stuck in his hand with a hammer. Sans is laughing. She's laughing. She sees him smile, for what she thinks now might have been the first time.]

I don't think he ever wanted us to know.

[And then the fractured glimpses he catches of the stern, unsmiling figure he remembers and doesn't remember - he can see it on his face, a perpetual rictus curving upwards, nearly bisecting his skull in its arcing crescent, frozen always in a smile he never wore in earnest.

That just seems like an additional shot of cruelty, one last parting blow to the doctor he knew, in rendering him into something that flew in the face of what he was. Isn't.]

He never wanted us to know he cared more than he actually did.

Yeah.

[This is... on one hand, it sucks, because he continues to worm back into her life, even now. That he continues to break her bonds, hold her back, percolate into her every movement. But on the other hand, they're... talking about this? Actually having a conversation? Sans is talking to her?

It's the persistent thought, of... well, at least she's not entirely alone.

She thinks about asking if the Door might ever bring him here, and decides against it. She doesn't want to think about that, and she bets Sans doesn't either.]

I sort of... always hoped he d-did, you know? Like, he just, was waiting for the right time, or didn't know how to express it, but. Heh, well, I guess it's t-too late.

... I'm sorry. That he's s-still following you, now.

[Still followin' him around now. Yeah, that's kinda one word for it, he guesses. He laughs, but it's an empty, effortless thing. His best shot at amusement in the face of somethin' he still has trouble lookin' at, even now.]

Y'know, uh. [He chuckles again, as if that'll make what he has to say next any more bearable.] Y'know the worst part of all of it is - I can't even remember why I got so mad at him.

I can't remember a single damn thing about what he did.

[Maybe it's real telling, real goddamn telling, that the only thing that sticks is his reaction to it - whatever it was. Reactionary, never proactive - that's the story of his life, ain't it?]

[She wrings her hands, biting her lip. He has less memory than she does. The Sans back home, the one she knew, he remembered almost everything. She didn't expect-- any of this.]

Oh. It just... h-happened, then.

[She knows the feeling, sort of. She doesn't remember what he was trying to do anyway. Just something she was supposed to stop.]

The only really clear thing I remember is t-trying to stop him. I don't remember what he was trying to do. Just that... we c-couldn't let him do it.

[She's fidgeting again. Wants to hug him, hoping it'll help, because she's never been much for good words.]

Heh. Yeah. Guess that kinda worked out real great for everyone, huh?

[He runs his phalanges over the crown of his skull, tryin' not to feel as exhausted as he does. The day's technically only just begun, and he's already just about ready to retire to the couch for the rest of the day.

It'd be great if he could just remember. If he knew what any of it meant. But it never even technically happened, and how d'you remember a thing like that?

Long story short - or long story deleted, to be more semantically precise - you don't.]

Well, it w-worked out something.

[She slouches back against the wall. God. This sure wasn't how she wanted to start this! Way to fuck everything up there, Alphys.]

I'm sorry. About t-this. I didn't mean to find it, or... I mean, it's...

[She doesn't even know how to say this, so she switches tracks entirely.]

Thanks for t-talking to me about this. Really.

[His grin might be a little bit tired around the edges, but it's sincere. He can roll with a subject change. He's a champion of not talkin' about stuff, so when he does, at last, trot that shit out to address it all direct-like, he kinda feels like he needs to sleep for a week.]

Hey, uh...don't sweat it. You and me might be the only two to really remember anything. Gotta watch each others' backs, yeah?

[Great job he did with that, both in his iteration and in hers, huh? Mettaton dead. Everyone dead. An evacuation doomed to fail, unless Alph pulls somethin' risky and untethers things from their brane just a hair -

But hey. That's purely theoretical.]

[He wants to talk about this. Maybe not wants, really, but he's... okay with it. Watching her back.

Maybe she can do this right, this time.]

Y-Yeah. At least we... at least w-we have each other.

[She lets the silence sit for a few seconds, and then...]

So, uh, w-wanna get something for breakfast? Lunch? I don't know what time it is, but uh, there's food here, so! Might as w-well!

Brunch, maybe.

[An automatic answer before he processes that this kinda indicates that...yeah. He'd like to. Can't promise that he can stay put all day, must as he'd like to. If a page like that's ended up in here, he's gotta make sure there ain't more spilled all over, every which way.

But, uh. Yeah. It'd be nice to stick around a bit. Wouldn't it?

Take a load off.]

But, uh. Sure. Yeah. [He's almost surprised to find that he means it.] I'd like that.

Hehe. O-Okay.

[She's smiling, too. It's nice, to have talked to him. Even if they're from slightly different worlds... he's here. She's here. There's something to that.

After all this time.]

C'mon, let's s-see if Papyrus has replaced every food in the kitchen with pasta yet.

[Sans manages a brief snort-chuckle at that. It ain't perfect, but...it's somethin'. It's more than he expected here. The page might be burnin' a hole in his pocket, but he can figure that out as the day wears on.

First, he's gonna eat some brunch with Alphys.]

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Event Log: Keepsakes

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