Haunting a reaper in training

Communication is key

[During the Multiverse Reversal – Aftertale: The Save Screen]

Error had been looking at those words floating in apparent nothingness for some time now, or what felt like it at least. It was difficult to tell time in a place that was pitch black no matter where you looked around, except for that weird light coming from nowhere in specific and the glowing yellow words. Eye catching inside their big bold squares, Error's eye-lights kept going back to them in the end.

Watching the grass under his slippers was only amusing to certain extent, and even taking fistfuls of it and crushing them in his hands wasn't enough to get rid of the stress Error could feel mounting in his skull. This scene felt similar, familiar, but Error had no recollection of ever being here. There had been no need to.

What even was this place in the first place? It wasn't a Void, but at the same time it was. How... bizarre.

So he just sat down. And stared. And kept staring, because his eye-lights were glued to the word 'continue' with such intensity that he felt nothing could take his attention away.

Error had always heard about the Resets, the ability to undo the anomaly's decisions and re-start a run from the very beginning. It wasn't without repercussions, as all those edgy AUs out there could attest for, but it was a well-known system that didn't have a permanent solution despite all the Sanses gathered together in the Multiverse, probably capable of coming up with a permanent way to stop them by now.

If by mere chance. Probability was a finicky thing when your variable was equal to infinite, the usual values didn't apply in the same way.

And yet, the system persevered. It just was the way things were.

Nihilism.

Giving up.

'Continue' it said, and Error wondered. Had those AUs that had monsters in the surface gone through with this option, entering unknown territory with trepidation but determination to go on? What did it mean to continue, in a Multiverse where Resets were an everyday norm, normalized to the point they had become the rule and routine, rather than the exception they had presented themselves as, back when the AUs didn't mingle with the others?

What could it mean for the people trapped in cycles, in roles? What could it mean for the forced god of Destruction? For Error?

But such silly thoughts were bound to end up in nothing. Error would forever be Error, as he always had been. He would always be trapped in this forsaken job he felt too lazy to keep doing. And although his form was incredibly pretty and attractive, exotic even as black bones weren't common (less so the multicolored ones Error had), it had its drawbacks.

Hearing wasn't one of them, however, and when those faint footsteps he thought he was imagining stopped, followed by an attack, Error moved.

Whoever thought attacking him from behind like a coward was a good idea, was going to get a nasty surprise. Of that, Error had no doubt.

_______________________

Error had hated Goth at first. With a passion.

It wasn't a surprise, given the end result of their altercation. Error was suddenly without a physical body, and even if he was thankful about not having merged with someone else (as that would erase the current him, what a disgrace. What if he got white bones like the rest? White was so boring, although maybe he could trigger Ink. That was always a plus, if only to get the artist off his back) Error didn't really appreciate this either.

The kid he was now bound to was obviously not well versed with Multiverse interactions, proven by not being wary of another Sans when alternate Sanses' shenanigans were involved. Either that, or he was being coddled by someone else, never a good thing when left alone in this kind of settings.