An Error's Doll

Chapter 31

The silence in the dining room after Cross' freakout was almost deafening. Then, Nightmare steepled his phalanges and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, scanning those present with a cold gaze. His eyelight rested on Dust and Killer, before sharpening.

"Dust. Killer," he acknowledged. Dust straightened slightly from his slouch while Killer merely raised a bonebrow questionably with a wide grin, "Why, pray tell, did neither of you inform Cross of current events?" he asked with a deceptively calm air. However, his writhing tendrils gave him away.

You watched Killer stiffen for a moment, his smile turned frown twitching at the words–you squinted in suspicion when you could not tell if he was trying to hide a smirk–before he gave an affronted gasp.

"Wha-! What about Horror?! He could've done it too!" he complained, gesturing to the skeleton in question. Horror, who had been watching quietly from the sidelines, blinked lethargically. He looked toward Nightmare curiously. He also seemed to want to know why he was not being held accountable.

Nightmare glanced at Horror blankly, before turning back to the two with an unimpressed expression, "Horror was not expected to tell Cross because of his... unique circumstances." You tilted your head. Was he talking about Horror's memory?

You peered over at him, discretely examining the large head wound with morbid curiosity. While you were aware that such an injury could and would cause memory problems, you were not quite sure to what extent it had affected him. The only obvious issue you have seen him express is an inhibited ability to speak.

"Therefore, the responsibility fell on you two. Now, do not make me ask again," he threatened, his eye socket narrowing dangerously, "Why did neither of you tell Cross?" he asked again, irritation clear.

Killer huffed at the tone, grumbling something about how "This is unfair" and "What about my circumstances?" with a sullen face. It really made the similarities between him and Ink stand out more, making you cringe. If there was a day you did not think about that skeleton at least once, you would be more than grateful.

Dust sighed, casting Killer an annoyed look as he answered first, "i couldn't because i was busy making something important," he started with a brief glance toward you. You stilled.

Did he mean your weapon? ...Oops. It seems that maybe it is partially your fault Cross does not know anything. But then again, you were not the one who requested Dust to make you one. Regardless of that fact, you did not blame Error either. He would not have had one made if he were not worried for you...

"so i specifically asked killer to do it instead," Dust finished, his 'lips' pursed as he gave Killer another sidelong look. It was obvious he blamed Killer for the confusion.

...Never mind what you thought earlier. It was not anyone's but Killer's fault. Now, you were not just thinking this out of spite, but it was just made clear he was the only one who could have and certainly did not tell Cross anything. You froze when you abruptly thought of something. Wait.

Actually, couldn't Nightmare have told Cross? You wondered. You looked at him, feeling conflicted at the thought. You might as well ask, "Nightmare?" you called. He paused.

Then, his eyelight slowly drifted to you, a frown marring his face as his bonebrows furrowed. Perhaps he did not appreciate you calling him by name, but there was nothing that you could do to change that now. You continued when he did not respond.

"How come you didn't tell Cross?" you questioned innocently. His frown deepened as he regarded you with disgust.

"I do not have time for such trivial matters, I have more important problems to worry about than explaining every little thing that happens. Why else would I have bothered to get such pathetic subordinates if not for them to do so for me?" he responded icily, as if he could not believe how stupid you were for thinking otherwise. You leaned back, offended, both for yourself and the skeletons here. He may not like you saying his name, but that was so uncalled for.