Feeling Reborn

Experimenting With SOULs

There are some things people are naturals at, and some things that just don't work out on the first try.

Take Error, for example.

Error was born to be a fighter, knowing the right times to dodge, where to hit, the right amout of magic to use and how to manipulate his strings properly like the back of his hand. To him, fighting was as simple as breathing. However, he struggled doing the simple task of feeding the two orphans. He had no memories of ever using this so-called 'spoon', and the plastic object felt heavy and clumsy in his left hand, although it weighed less than his scarf, which was, by the way, made by yours truly, Error. It's material was woven out of his magic, sturdy but soft to the touch and virtually indestructible (well, except for Inky's paint), so that was saying something.

To his relief, the former skill came into handy in many cases, such as the present predicament.

Error lept to his feet, slightly shaking the little ones; not that they notice, anyway. The Sans was trembling in fear, snuggling even deeper into the remaining scraps of cloth. The Papyrus had started wailing, tiny hands grabbing on to his scarf. Ignoring the cries (it wasn't that hard- he did it on a daily basis), he got into a sturdy battle position, strings out, kids in a makeshift sling made out of his scarf. He wasn't a huge fan of fighting indoors-the collateral damage could be huge-but if he was forced to do so, no protests would be heard from him.

Snarling, he demanded, "wHat ARe YoU dOinG hERe, GaSTEr?"

The AU's Gaster wore a genuine look of surprise on his face, white lab coat floating in the non-existant breeze, snowflakes being thrown about in the background.

"ꅏꍟ꒒꒒, ꅏꍟ꒒꒒, ꅏꍟ꒒꒒... ꒒ꂦꂦꀘꌗ ꒒ꀤꀘꍟ ꀤ'ꎭ ꈤꂦ ꒒ꂦꈤꁅꍟꋪ ꓄ꃅꍟ ꒒ꍏꌗ꓄ ཞɛąƖ ꌗꀘꍟ꒒ꍟ꓄ꂦꈤ..." he mused, a faraway look in his eyelights. "ꅏꃅꍟꋪꍟ ꀸꀤꀸ ꌩꂦꀎ ꉓꂦꎭꍟ ꎇꋪꂦꎭ? ꍏꋪꍟ ꌩꂦꀎ ꂦꈤꍟ ꂦꎇ ꓄ꃅꂦꌗꍟ ꎭꂦꈤꌗ꓄ꍟꋪꌗ ꅏꃅꂦ ꀸꀤꌗꍏᖘᖘꍟꍏꋪꍟꀸ ꉓꂦꎭᖘ꒒ꍟ꓄ꍟ꒒ꌩ ꎇꋪꂦꎭ ꉓꀤᐯꀤ꒒ꀤꁴꍏ꓄ꀤꂦꈤ ꍏꎇ꓄ꍟꋪ ꓄ꃅꍟ ꅏꍏꋪ?... ᖘꍏꋪꀸꂦꈤ ꎭꍟ, ꎭꌩ ꈤꍏꎭꍟ ꀤꌗ ꅏ' ꀸ. ꁅꍏꌗ-"

He didn't get to finish that sentence.

____•____

W. D. Gaster was less than pleased once he discovered the yawning hole staring at him, the iron-wrought bars of the tiny cell contorted in a violent manner, and even less so when the numerous security cameras installed in the complex indicated signs of his experiments making a run for it.

That displeasure ran even deeper when, somehow, the pair managed to hack through security and solve the puzzles, both heavily used throughout the building.

Ah, but things were starting to get interesting.
(420 words 👌😂)

Their little escapade proved truly how smart they were, the limits of their strength and their desperation for freedom. This would be documented in his folders once he returned the the True Lab.

His mind returned to the more... pressing matters at hand.

There was another skeleton sitting in the bar, one that Gaster was sure to not have created.

Killing intent seemed to wash off the stranger in pounding waves. Observing him carefully, Gaster saw the attachment he had towards the projects, developped in around an hour.

"ꅏꍟ꒒꒒, ꌗ-01ꍏ ꍏꈤꀸ ᖘ-02ꉓ, ꀤ꓄'ꌗ ꓄ꀤꎭꍟ ꎇꂦꋪ ꌩꂦꀎ ꓄ꂦ ꉓꂦꎭꍟ... ꃅꂦꎭꍟ." His cold tone rang in his skull, smugness overtaking his inner thoughts. He imagined the terror inflicted on S_1A and P_2C, fingers behind his back twitching in anticipation. His long bony tail curled up upon itself, ghosts of wings flickering dubiously.