skelebro: (gonna socket to ya)
sans. ([personal profile] skelebro) wrote in [community profile] hadriel_logs2017-01-16 10:17 am

you know my name [open]

Who: Sans, Sans's double, and Y O U
What: Doubles. It gets bad. Responses from Sans's double will come from [personal profile] fibia.
Where: All over Hadriel
When: 1/16 - 1/25
Warnings: Things are gonna get messy. Since it's Sans, basic warnings for depressive mindset and self-hatred ratcheted up to 11. In the case of his double, threads may involve heavy manipulation, physchological abuse and cruelty, and of course your typical fare of potentials for violence and gore. Proceed with caution!



1/16 - 1/18; just the big time fucko; arm yourself because no one else here will SAVE you
[The crack and pop of flexing knuckles, and his skull rolls on his cervical vertebrae with a series of satisfying popping of air sacs. His phalanges pull in and out again, clenching into loose fists and then - back out. His smile is a fixed rictus, just the same as the monster from which his mold has been cast. The lights buried in his eyesockets glint coolly as he takes it all in - the rock of the walls and ceiling, the light of hte lamps, the staleness of the air.

He rolls his shoulders smoothly.

Tangibility. Weight. Resonance. What a beautiful fucking thing.

For a time, anyway.

He ambles about the city for a time. There's no visible difference between him and the Sans you might know. He smiles, he nods, he's pleasant. He stops to peruse the shops, and passes by the garage full of mopeds. There's no real obvious changes to any one thing as he passes, and he sure don't stop and loiter about long enough for him to have done anything but - you might notice a few changes. Maybe the bolts and bits of your moped are a mite loose, and kicking it to life will cause it to fall apart on the spot. Maybe that can of food you just picked up from one of the shops has had holes pocked through the bottom, causing its contents to leak out all over the shelves. Maybe a few cobblestones have been loosened to trip you up in the streets, or a shelf in a shop is rigged to topple the instant you pick an item off of it.

But it's probably nothing, right? Just a...coincidence.

Sans is a nice guy. He wouldn't put people in harm's way like that.

Right?]
1/19 - 1/21; FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT; you can't deny the prize, it may never fulfill you
His time here is limited. That much is pretty damn clear. In only a few days, he'll cease to have ever happened; a footnote in somebody else's story. And, heh, while the regular ol' Sans might be content with that, this Sans certainly ain't. He'll live forever, one way or another. He'll preserve his legacy.

It's just a way of making sure that people know what good old Sans is really capable of. The monster in question is doin' a real good job of avoiding himself. Afraid of what he'd find, most likely. Or maybe he knows that he wouldn't be able to stand to look at himself for longer than five seconds. Always hates what he sees in a mirror, that Sans. Too many flaws and not enough motivation to a damn thing about 'em.

So the next step, obviously, would be to lure the guy outta hiding.

He waits in a secluded corner of the city and waits for someone to pass by. Anybody, really, he ain't picky. Just take it one at a time, that's all he asks. And should someone be coming his way all alone, he'll tip his skull in greeting, smile patiently, talk 'em through their concerns that he might be the evil clone. It's doubtful that'll work, but that's just fine.

He's not looking for conversation.

[ooc: Sans's Double will be raring for a fight with this prompt. As his cast has dibs on actually killing him, I ask that you only pick this prompt if you're eager for your character to get Dunked. Though since this Sans has a good deal more than 1 HP, you're free to land a few hits.]
1/22; double trouble; the odds will betray you and i will replace you
By the time the real Sans drags himself outta his miserable little hole to check up on the stirrer of the chaos, the causer of the ruckus, the inciter of scurries, it's already approaching the End. That's all right, though. It's excusable. He's lazy. It's one of the defining points of a Sans.

He kicks a pebble across the ground with the toe of a slippershod foot and watches it clatter over the rock, his smile nothing short of utterly neutral.

"So this is me." For the first time, he appraises his double with an upraised supraorbital ridge. "A LOVE-hungry killer bent on destruction."

"You don't sound surprised." The words rumble in his doppelganger's lack of a throat, and his grin approximates a sneer.

"Why should I be?" A weary lift of Sans's shoulders, and he chuckles. "Always figured that's why a guy like me doesn't have it in him to give a damn. Why a guy like me takes it easy."

"You always take it easy." The admonishment should be laden with disgust, but it emerges lightly, like dispensing criticism upon an amateur writer for using too many semicolons.

"Yeah." The pair of skeletons eye each other warily. Sans smiles. And he smiles. "But it was always my choice to. Shit choice, sure, but at least it wasn't 'cause I couldn't."

His clone doesn't reply. There's the faintest stir of a spark in his gaze, a glint of something akin to a cold fury, but it dissipates in the same moment it forms. There's all matter of LOVE caked about his SOUL. He don't have to think about something like that. He's above that. But Sans reads it well enough, and they both know it.

He could judge him, but it'd just be redundant.

"LV 19," says Sans, the real Sans, heavily. "You've been busy."

"So you know what comes next," says the other. The words are conversational, almost companionable, as easily as if they might be discussing the weather. It is, after all - a beautiful day outside. There's no birds about, and certainly no flowers, but both of 'em know that, statistically, there's bound to be birdsong trilling out there somewhere, a few petals opening themselves to a sun's warming rays. There's bound to be a world where a Sans grins beside a Frisk who's surrounded by their friends, living happily on the surface, contented and unafraid.

"Yeah," says Sans.

"Only one monster in the Underground takes you to 20."

"Yeah," says Sans.

His eyesockets slip closed.

It's a beautiful day outside.

And with the charging roar of a Blaster and the bright span of bones springing into existence, the space between them erupts.

[ooc: This last prompt is a two-for-one deal. Characters can try and intervene, cheer from the sidelines, place bets, whatever you like!]
1/23 - 1/24; the real sans; if you take a life do you know what you'll give
[All right, all right. So he's maybe - maybe slightly concerned at this juncture. He was lucky enough to get outta that first confrontation with his life, and there's no guarantee that his double hasn't already gutted a few unlucky bastards.

He's gotta find him and cut him off before he does anything worse. It ain't like anybody he knows is handling this any better but god damn - he hopes voting Confusion in was worth it, that's all he can say.

Sans blips through the city with a remarkable speed and alacrity, popping into shops, houses, checking every inch of the place he can in search of his cruel, LOVE-happy self. Hope you haven't run into the asshole in the meantime and assumed that the real Sans is subsequently out to get ya, 'cause that would be real unfortunate for the skeleton with 1 HP. Just a real awful, terrible, no good thing.]
wildcard; try to hide your hand, forget how to feel
[ooc: Not a fan of the prompts? Hit me with whatever you like! I'll match prose or brackets, either one. Questions and concerns? Hit me at arcaneswearwords on AIM or over at [plurk.com profile] arrpee or with a PM and let's discuss!]
fibia: (words cant be formed & then they die)

[personal profile] fibia 2017-01-21 08:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Jury's out on that one. Kid's got a few skeletons in his closet. Who'da thunk, right?

[Maybe that ain't the right phrase for it. Oh well.]
war_itself: (pluperfect hell)

[personal profile] war_itself 2017-01-22 12:10 am (UTC)(link)
"Well you're not going to find any in here," she replies, disdain for children of all types marred slightly by her perplexity. Now she's talking to the skeleton. The skeleton with facial expressions. She's seen some weird shit in her life, but that doesn't stop this from being very surreal. You'd think being saved by a smug man in a dimensionally transcendental shed would set the bar higher than this. How did it even get in here?

A new wave of bewilderment has her frowning anew, offended all over again. "Who the hell are you? And how are you sweating?" And standing up. And doing anything.
war_itself: (u for real)

[personal profile] war_itself 2017-01-22 01:19 am (UTC)(link)
Oh god help her, he's one of those. Look, just because she can't see where he keeps his muscles and organs, and those bones appear to be barely connected... Nope, this is ridiculous. She catches herself staring in disbelief and snaps her mouth shut, struggling to regain some sort of composure in the face of this nonsense.

"Yeah right, and magic's the reason you look like you've got a 5000-word essay due in the morning, is it?" She gestures vaguely at the state of him with her knife, utterly thrown off her guard. "Are you the mortal remains of a college student or something?"
war_itself: (stop wasting my time)

[personal profile] war_itself 2017-01-22 06:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Well that sure is a spirited non-explanation. Who actually calls themselves a monster? Besides arrogant psychopaths looking to inspire fear, maybe, but he makes it sound like a species or something. Give her a break. He seems about as eager to offer up an actual explanation as she is to pry it out of him, though, so she just runs her free hand down her face and makes a valiant attempt at moving on.

"Alright, sure, whatever. What's a monster doing looking for kids in my house, then? You gonna eat them?" Not that she'd judge, necessarily. That's just what usually happens, in her experience on Earth so far.
iustitiae: (42)

[personal profile] iustitiae 2017-01-23 01:48 am (UTC)(link)
Is that really such a surprise? It's always the nice ones.
fibia: (they can smell this awful scent)

[personal profile] fibia 2017-01-23 03:48 am (UTC)(link)
You gotta good point.

[He chuckles darkly, amused despite himself.]

Anywho. I'll get outta your hair. Look into those nametags, yeah?
iustitiae: (Default)

[personal profile] iustitiae 2017-01-23 04:51 am (UTC)(link)
Yeah. Good look with your general chaos.
fibia: (nasty w/ the flakes hotdog water)

[personal profile] fibia 2017-01-23 05:23 am (UTC)(link)
I'm all for that aesthetic.

[He's still laughing as he ambles on. God, that's a good one.]
ushahin: (Madness)

[personal profile] ushahin 2017-01-23 09:25 am (UTC)(link)
[Ushahin doesn't sense anything amiss with Sans mind-wise. The skeleton's thoughts rarely add up together to form a whole picture anyway. Hmph. He knows they aren't exactly friends, but even for his lazy nature, that's a new one.]

I'd hate to think what you would do if I was in actual peril.
fibia: (the entire underground smells this way)

[personal profile] fibia 2017-01-23 07:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Absolutely nothing, most like.

[That's definitely amusement in his long, dark drawl, and the laughter that follows probably doesn't help lighten the mood any. The real Sans might be a lotta things, but he's seldom needlessly cruel - ]

Why? You got a whole mess of friends and/or minions to help you up the next time you stub your pinky toe?
war_itself: (suck it tbh)

[personal profile] war_itself 2017-01-23 11:35 pm (UTC)(link)
That permanent grin of his is honestly getting kind of unsettling. What, he can wink an eyesocket but not reshape his jaw? 'Magic' sure is stupid. She shakes off another vaguely disgusted sneer to consider a skeleton befriending a bunch of children, only to find that she doesn't much care.

His comment about the city is more interesting, though. If he's been searching the place, he probably knows more about what's actually going on than she can learn from in here. "I haven't been living under a rock, so yeah, I had noticed," she quips back. "Are people just losing whatever smidgen of sense they had, again? And why are they never doing it in the direction of our actual enemies, instead of stringing each other up and posting petty videos?" She has tried and failed to figure out this part of the cave dynamics so far. It's getting awfully frustrating. "Can't even conveniently blame it on human nature, around here."
kairotic: (« [Shrug] Gotta Break Some Eggs)

[personal profile] kairotic 2017-01-25 10:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[The double grins, laughing just a bit.]

You sure have got him pegged. At least I don't have to worry about dragging out my real, considering she'd rather hide in the caves and get eaten than see me face to face.

[Which leaves her plenty of time to do what she needs to.]

Honestly, I don't even have a lot of work to do here. She's done such a good job of ruining herself here already.
sciencelizard: (« [Anxiety] Look sometimes...)

[personal profile] sciencelizard 2017-01-25 10:53 pm (UTC)(link)
I mean, I t-think so. I've seen people talking about it. Some people s-saying they're trying to kill the, uh, real person.

[If she trusted herself more, she'd question why he's questioning her, because he's usually more inclined to help her with this sort of thing and listen to her ideas. But she's too frazzled right now, so she's more than willing to lean on his statements.]

I also haven't, uhm, s-seen any demons or anything.
fibia: (just gets worse the more sans is around)

[personal profile] fibia 2017-01-26 02:25 am (UTC)(link)
Huh. That don't sound too good.

[He gives himself a minute in which he pretends to contemplate at length, and then he snaps his phalanges in seeming victory.]

Wait, okay. We gotta have, uh...a code word or somethin'. Somethin' only the two of us would know, in this second right here, so that neither of our evil twins can get the jump on us. Y'know?
fibia: (the entire underground smells this way)

[personal profile] fibia 2017-01-26 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
Just gonna air her dirty laundry and move on, right?

[See, they just both know each other so well. Ain't that thrilling and exciting for everybody involved? Just a couple of dirty, dirty schemers with targets that do such great work completely desecrating their own lives that the doubles themselves barely gotta do a thing. Nice job takin' things easy.]

Heck, what do I even say to Frisk, huh? Ain't like they could hate him anymore than they do already.
circumitus: I CAN QUIT ANY FUCKING TIME I WANT. (i'm not drunk YOU'RE drunk)

i'm so sorry this is so late augh augh

[personal profile] circumitus 2017-01-28 04:35 am (UTC)(link)
Snowdrakes, chickens... It's all the same breed of bullshit to 'Rey'. Euphemisms and metaphors to help serve a vague purpose in painting a better picture.

"I wouldn't say that. Think of it more as... setting the stage."

Coming from someone who claims to hate theatrics, that is rich.
fibia: (they can smell this awful scent)

sall good!

[personal profile] fibia 2017-01-28 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
There, see? All makes sense to the right set of ears.

"Settin' things up for a dramatic showdown, are we?" Hey, the dramatic sucker in him can appreciate that. Which, uh, there is definitely way more of that in Sans than even Sans himself would care to admit. It's a flaw of theirs.
war_itself: (you've got to be kidding)

[personal profile] war_itself 2017-01-29 08:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Seems like she's gonna have to invent a new disgusted expression every time this skeleton does anything. The sound of bone scraping against bone just isn't something you should hear unless you're purposefully breaking one.

At least he's quick to distract her with that ridiculous revelation. "An evil twin?" Look, what the fuck. "You mean creatures with modified appearances?" Like camouflage. Like that insolent space plant mimicking her dead sister. She suddenly wonders if she should go out after all, do some gardening.
war_itself: (meaner than my demons)

[personal profile] war_itself 2017-01-30 01:17 am (UTC)(link)
What they are matters if you want to destroy them. God-made constructs probably aren't easy to kill, but then that's true of most things that are worth killing. And there's telepathy involved too, wonderful. If there's one thing Quill hates more than being held under someone's thumb, it's having her mind invaded and used against her.

She tilts her head and glances at the blade in her hand, considering it. "What are the chances killing them would weaken our 'gods', do you think?" You know, hypothetically. Because the arn is making its disapproval known even now, with a twitch of a poisoned claw across her brain matter, hatefully reminding her she'd die in agony before she could plunge the knife into the first construct she sees. But she's used to this brief head-splitting pain, her due for every time she imagines gutting the prince, and betrays nothing besides the whitening of knuckles around the knife.

Page 6 of 10