hadriel_logs | it's the routine, it's the regret [closed]

Entry tags:

it's the routine, it's the regret [closed]

Who: Sans and Gren along with party-crasher Wade Wilson
What: Gren's totally not worried about Wade. Sans totally isn't worried about Wade either. ~~they fight crime~~
Where: Around the caves
When: Backated to 5/19 after this
Warnings: Probably violence. Gren's foulmouth. Mentions of Wade Wilson's ass.

[So it ain't surprising that they both end up down here. Gren said "ten minutes," and Sans makes it in eleven. It's probably an indication of how he's actually takin' something seriously for once that he doesn't delay even further.

He's smiling, but, as per usual, it's just a facial quirk of his, and it don't come close to meeting his eyesockets. Conversations between him and Gren typically start out with one or both of 'em leveling some kinda taunting jibe or lazy remark and things simply escalating from there.

The first thing he says, in contrast, is perhaps uncharacteristically grim.]

How long d'you think someone could last in there?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's a Gyftmas miracle, all right. Just don't expect anything more strenuous than that, 'cause the vastness of the thing is makin' it hard to keep down for that long. Thankfully, Gren works quick.

And then he's Gren again - or the human-lookin' guy that most people assume is Gren, 'cause apparently he don't drop his glamour for any old thing. The pale bulk fades, and Sans slips the light stone back from his pocket.]

Bit, uh...fur-ocious, weren't he?

[A loose chuckle, but his metaphorical heart's not in it.]

Which way's Wade?

[When the light comes back, Gren's shrugging his jacket back on and there's a messy red smear around his mouth. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care, but it probably doesn't matter; what's he supposed to do, go find a sink to wash up in? Hell, it might not be the last throat he has to tear out today anyway, so what's the point.]

[But the puns, it wouldn't be Sans without the goddamn puns, would it? His lip pulls up in a sort of sneer and he says,] Not fuckin' nearly enough.

[Clearly. Because it's dead.]

[But hey, whatever, time to get back to the Wade-tracking. Because that's the goal,
find his missing ~~boyfriend~~ fuckbuddy. Right. Fuckbuddy.]

Down this way, unless there's somebody the fuck else down here that's got a ringtone about spooky fuckin' skeletons.

[So, he'll like... lead on, or whatever.]

[...heh.

Heh heh heh.

Sans starts to laugh at that one, though he's not callous and careless enough to escalate it into anything more than a vague chuckle. That's pretty good. Pretty good, he's gotta say. Spooky scary skeletons.

Well, it's accurate.]

Heh heh. Yeah. That, uh...that sounds like Wade.

[Though now he's gotta ask:]

Whaddaya think your ringtone is?

[He probably doesn't want to know what ringtone Wade set his number to, judging from the stupid song he gave to Sans. Probably some song about being a bootycall or something, that's basically what their relationship consists of. Don't question why he's out in the very dangerous caves looking for a guy that he doesn't give a damn about.]

Beats the fuck outta me. Probably some stupid shit.

[It's Wade, so of course it'll be some stupid shit. He's the king of stupid shit, it's his great calling in life. Other than assassination.]

[Up ahead, though, the paths split. He's going to need to listen again to hear where the sound is coming from, and... well, fuck it. Now that Sans has mentioned it, he almost has a morbid curiosity as to what his stupid ringtone is. ~~What Wade thinks of him.~~]

Fuck it. [He takes out his phone and dials. There's silence for a few moments, and then he hears, still distant but closer than before-- a song.]

...For fuck's sake, Wade.

[He almost doesn't expect Gren to actually succumb to that curiosity. But he won't even pretend that he's too good for that. And Sans strains to listen. 'Cause of course he does.

They're close, now. Close enough that he can hear the faint peals of...

Of course.

He ain't familiar with the song, but he really doesn't have to be. It's self-explanatory. He grins, and starts to laugh.]

Oh my god, Wade.

He better be fuckin' alive, because I'm gonna fuckin' kill him.

[He doesn't know how he's going to do it, but he's going to kill this motherfucker. Sure, he doesn't have a great track record as far as actually killing the people that he says he's going to kill goes, but fuck it.]

[He ends the call, abruptly silencing the shitty song. He knows where it's coming from, though, so he starts pissily stalking his way down that path, as only a man whose ~~boyfriend~~ fuckbuddy gave him an undignified ringtone can.]

The fuck's wrong with him, anyway? Are his fuckin' arms broke so he can't pick up the goddamn phone?

[He'd almost laugh at that, but the mental image Gren summons isn't what he'd call a pretty one. Humans - they're resilient. They don't go down easy. They don't crumble just 'cause they lost the will to live, or 'cause someone threw a pillow at their head and it smacked 'em a little too hard. Humans bleed, and break, and blister, and sicken, and they'll still, still press on if they think it's something worth fighting over.

There's something admirable in that, sure, but he's seen it twisted into something ugly and unrelenting far too many times to associate it with anything but the darkest forms of determination.

It's not with worry that he says it. It's not with worry that he speaks up at all. It's maybe with a bit of trepidation.]

...maybe we ought'a move a bit faster.

[Wade's... Wade's tough. It's hard to get rid of Wade, even when you want to; Gren knows it's because of that healing factor that he's got, even though he doesn't know the extent of its abilities. He's not dead. He can't be. And when they find him, Gren's going to sock him right in his stupid damn face. He's not sure what he's going to do immediately after that-- he's still debating the merits of strangling him or kissing him.]

[It's a hard choice, really. Both options have their merits.]

...Yeah.

[He picks up the pace a little, but he can't start going too fast or else he risks leaving Sans behind. Sorry, skeleton man, but you're kind of short and Gren's made mostly of leg. He's got big strides.]

He's gonna be fuckin' fine.

[Gren knows he's not exactly the comforting sort of person, especially not right now-- not when he's got blood on his face and no explanation as to why Wade won't answer them. But he's going to keep believing that the asshole's okay until he has a solid reason to think that he isn't.]

[Gren doesn't have to wait very long for that belief to be fully contradicted.

A sudden heavy, whispering thud suddenly shakes the ground a few feet in front of them, like the sound a tree makes when it's felled or uprooted. The sound comes again and again, louder each time, as whatever is behind those strange, heavy footfalls gets closer.

Sans and Gren probably don't need to fully see it to realize that the creature is big. Long, sinuous vines wind through its limbs like veins, and the top of its head is adorned with large, evil-looking mushrooms. What looks to be a cavernous, gaping mouth is ringed with sharp, woody protrusions that look disturbingly similar to teeth. And somewhere around where the creature's ribcage would be, sticking out among the miles of green vegetation that covers its body, something red stands out clear and visible as it steps further into Sans's light.

A limp human arm, clothed in red spandex.

The arboreal monstrosity squares its limbs and lets out a groaning, shrieking bellow that echoes throughout the walls of the caverns.]

[He's gonna be fuckin' fine.

Up until there's the rattling thud of approaching footsteps, and something that looks like it's been growing out from the darkest parts of the orchard - or maybe it would be, if the orchard was fertilized with evil. It rears out from the shadows, thrown into ghostly relief by the blue light of the stone gripped in his hand. It rumbles as it unfurls, mossy and thick with twined vines, a massive tower of brown and rusted green.

Except for the spot of red that gleams there, lit up like a lantern against the homogeneous gray and brown.

He only has time for a quiet pronouncement, barely audible.]

Wade.

[And then he's gone.

Or rather, he's slipped through space to end up behind the thing, peering at the tangle of its middle. Wondering if maybe it has a SOUL.]

[Well, that sure is a big, nasty walking compost pile that they've found. And it's apparently a big walking compost pile that ate Wade, and presumably not in the fun way. Wade's probably tamed some wild bush in his day, but he also probably wasn't expecting this kind of wild bush.]

[There's something about that limp arm in the blue glow of Sans' stone that's like something out of a horror flick, weird and wrong and almost surreal. For a second Gren wonders why it's so still, why it doesn't look like he's been fighting, and is that arm even attached to anything anymore?]

[Then the light's gone when Sans disappears. The creature's roar is so loud that it hurts, and Gren hears a high-pitched ringing afterwards, but the pain of it is enough to jolt him out of whatever weird shock he'd been in.]

[There's really no time to waste, anyway. The glamour comes off again, and while Sans does whatever the fuck it is that lazy skeletons do, Gren's going to get down to doing the dirty work again. Which basically means going after this jungle fever motherfucker with all the tact and prudence of a wrecking ball.]

[But, hey, he's gonna have to get at this thing's chest region to get Wade out, so why not go for the direct approach?]

Edited (fixing weird format bs??) 2017-06-15 05:14 (UTC)

[Upon seeing Gren's body suddenly enlarge; suddenly whiten and grow muscles and fangs and swell in size, the creature takes a half-step backward, squares its impossibly thick legs to brace itself against Gren's charge. It could have easily been seen as a sign of weakness; a sign that the bark-skinned monster was intimidated by Gren's sudden aggressive action. Unfortunately, this particular shambling mound has been feeding off of Wade for several weeks now, and it's not about to give up its quarry any time soon.

With a sharp sound like the crackling of branches, the creature swipes its foreleg in a large, sweeping semicircle, intent on swatting Gren aside as if he were a mere insect or, failing that, knocking the legs completely out from under him. Sans will notice that despite the creature's fluid, animalistic movements, it surprisingly has no SOUL. Perhaps that's the reason why it guards its living prey so jealously.]

[No SOUL in the tangled cage of its center, but Wade - Wade undoubtedly has one. It's there, regardless of whatever the hell this thing's been doing to him in the interim. Being torn out from the thing's arboreal ribcage is probably the least pleasant way to get through to him, but that don't mean Sans has to sit around and wait for the opportunity to present itself.

Gren already knows, full well, what it is he's capable of. His double made damn sure of that. And as capable as Gren is, he's already down an arm, and this thing is massive.

So Sans hunches his shoulders, one supraorbital ridge curving down.]

Careful.

[That's the only warning he offers before an array of blue bones spring up from the ground, shooting through roots and bark, suffusing them with the chill of KARMA.

They won't discriminate if Gren ends up touching them too, but hopefully they'll slow the thing down.]

[This thing is definitely massive, a shambling hulk of flora and malice, and Gren's gonna do what he does best and fucking grapple it. He hears Sans call out a warning, which is almost useless when he's subsequently knocked over by the monster's swipe. He catches himself with his arm and, thankfully, the thing is distracted enough by suddenly getting hit with bones and KARMA that it doesn't go after him immediately. Buys him enough time to get back to his feet.]

[The noise that comes out of Gren's throat isn't human; it's a low, animal growl, and he lunges forward again to try to get his fist into its chest. He needs to get Wade out of that thing. He can't hear Wade's heart, and he's not sure if it's because there isn't a heartbeat to hear or if it's because he's too insulated by dense foliage for the sound to escape. Either way, the first step is to rip out as much of the shit that's packed in around him as possible.]

[If he can just loosen things up around Wade enough, maybe he can pull him right out. Or Sans can get him with his stupid magic bullshit and pull him out.]

[As Sans's attack strikes the creature, sending blue femurs up through its roots before it has a chance to dodge, it utters a shrill, creaking scream that can't be described in words-- the sound a tree would make if it were filled with pain and an unbridled rage. It makes the sound again as Gren drives his fist into the expanse of leaves and branches that make up its chest, and although it is too slow to disengage from Gren's grip, it succeeds in wrapping a thick ropy length of vine around his forearm.

Whether it intends to cut off Gren's circulation or simply tear off his arm entirely is anyone's guess, but it is not giving up its prey so easily.]

[Much as Sans and Gren have their differences, Sans is pretty sure he ain't real eager to see the guy lose his other arm on top of everything. Time slows to a crawl in his indecision, briefly, moments trickling past until his sockets slip shut, wearily.

They've come this far. They're not leaving without him.]

Heads up.

[Another soft warning before the cave abruptly lights up with a low, pitched hum, something that approximates the tone of charging circuits, and a hulking, doglike skull manifests like a bone-white specter. Its jaws part, belching a hot stream of white-hot energy.

It's a strain to keep it going for as long as Sans does, but of the pair of them, he'd much rather this tree-beast thing be the one to lose the arm.]

[Sans is right about one thing-- they're not leaving without Wade. Not even if Gren has to tear this overgrown shrub apart piece by piece. He'll make motherfucking mulch out of this motherfucker.]

[He hears the warning but isn't sure what it's for until he hears that soft hum as well-- he remembers the fight with the other Sans, the stronger one, and he hasn't forgotten the weird noise the skull blasters made when they showed up. And he's still got the scars from the last time he got on the wrong end of one of these things; it's burned into his side.]

Shit--

[He jerks to the side, but he can't exactly get very far out of the way when his arm's caught in the foliage. He pulls against it, trying to brute force his way out of the vines and flora that are wrapped tight around his forearm. Doesn't really want to lose this one, either to constriction or dismemberment. It's the only one he's got left.]

[The shambling mound is strong, but Gren is stronger, especially in his unglamoured form. The vine strains against the tension Gren puts on it, tears; snaps completely like an overexerted rubber band, spraying a thick and viscous liquid. The mound of foliage emits another one of those shrill screeches, stumbling backwards. A loud hum of energy echoes throughout the caves behind it, and the beast attempts to dodge... too slowly. What passes for an arm is suddenly enveloped in white-hot light, and it lets out one last long, loud and agonized scream as its arm is completely vaporized.

There is very little fight in the monstrosity now. Whatever passes for a brain in the tangled mess of leaves and bark decides that the meal it's carried-- while sustainable-- simply isn't worth the pain. With a the sharp crackling sound of splitting branches, the creature's chest suddenly opens up, spilling a tattered, disheveled Wade out onto the cave floor. Freed from its meal, the shambling mound attempts to make its escape, trailing dead leaves and scorched ashes in its wake.]

[At least it burns for what it's trying to take. But the loss of one arm is apparently too much for it to bear, and Wade's unmistakable silhouette slithers out from the cage of its branches.]

Wade.

[Gren can pursue if he wants; as far as Sans is concerned, they've got what they came for, and he's clipped through space to end up at his ex-roommate's side in half a moment. The skull dematerializes as swiftly and without fanfare as it appears, dissipating into nothing.]

Hey. Wade, hey. You okay in there?

[Is he even...?]

[There's a part of Gren that wants to go after the monster and rip it to shreds, wants to tear it down piece by piece until there wouldn't even be enough left over for composting. But they didn't come here to take revenge against some barely sentient plant matter, they came here to get Wade. And as far as that's concerned, mission accomplished.]

[Gren waits until the thing has disappeared into the tunnels, definitely gone, before he turns away. Wade is still, body laying in a limp heap, but he's here. He's still alive, and anything else can be taken care of by his healing factor.]

Let's get him the fuck out of here. [About all they could do right now, anyway. Neither of them are doctors.] I'll carry him.

[A sharp, nauseatingly fleshy cracking sound suddenly reverberates throughout the walls of the cave as Wade's ribs knit themselves together. He comes to life with a ragged gasp, curling in on himself and coughing hoarsely. Wade rolls wearily on his back once he's regained his breath, looking up with dazed, unfocused eyes at the two individuals who have just saved his bacon. Exhaustion slurs his words.]

Sans...? The hell you doin' here? And... [His eyes roll over to see the hulking milky white creature that Gren has become.]

...huh. Really hope that's not the Rhino. Otherwise you really fuckin' let yourself go, buddy.

[Thank fuck Gren can carry him, to be honest, 'cause Sans has just about exerted every effort he's willing to put into this entire endeavor. Sans can't quite wrestle back the reflexive wince at the earsplitting series of cracks that preface Wade's body...literally putting itself back together.

Holy shit, but is he not okay with any part of what just happened here.

It's easier to laugh once Wade manages that zinger, and Sans shakes his skull slightly. It's dark in here. Plenty dark. Probably too dark to see the way the edges of his smile ease slightly, relaxing into something resembling relief.]

'S your boyfriend, actually, but who's counting?

[And now Gren's starting to reconsider a.) getting Sans to come with him and b.) not gagging Wade immediately after they pulled him out of that plant monster. Because lord above, he is ever so fond of certain parts of Wade's anatomy, but his mouth is not consistently one of them.]

His fuckin' what now?

[Excuse you, Sans, the b-word has never been brought up in their relationship. They are strictly friends-with-benefits, really only a step up from being acquaintances. Boyfriends implies all sorts of, like, domestic shit and they really just meet up for the purposes of touching dicks.]

[And to save him. But whatever.]

[Wow how about fuck you Gren his mouth is the most dangerous weapon he has.

Regardless, Wade hears the discourse between his two saviors as if they're talking through one of those tin can telephones he'd made when he was a kid. His vision suddenly tunnels out, and he feels the ground suddenly tilt underneath him.

He has time to spout out one mumbled, barely coherent sentence--] please don' lemme swallow m'tongue... [--before his eyes roll back in his head and his body pitches forward. Think fast, guys.]

[Gren's got those priorities straight, that's for damn sure. And any snapped-out banter the two of them might've shared is lost to the concern when Wade goes slack.]

Woah, woah.

[He gets one hand up around Wade's shoulder, but he's not sturdy enough to just up and carry the guy. He doesn't even sound remotely in the realm of joking anymore.]

C'mon. We gotta get him outta here.

Edited 2017-07-23 21:07 (UTC)

it's the routine, it's the regret [closed]

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