Drew this comic for Kustardweek Day 6: forest god. I thought that @symphysins 's forest deity sans would be perfect for this prompt. I also wanted to draw wings, so I gave him some wings, figured they would be fitting.
“Happy birthday, @purrfecktlysinful <3 I can't believe it's been another year, but wow, what a year it's been! You are a treasured and wonderful friend and I am honored to know you ;u; This picture is one of my favorite scenes from my favorite fic of yours <3 Your writing is spectacular and I am so happy that you've been able to get back onto the writing track these last couple of months :D Happy birthday, once again! I hope it's a great one! <3″
If you haven’t had a chance to read this fic yet, I suggest you do because its amazing
Deity Sans AU belongs to Symphysins
Undertale brothers
Deep inside the forest an old temple lies. Once it was a holy place. People from the villages would often go here and priests and priestesses took careful care of it. It was a home. For people searching peace. For the priests. For its god. Now it is a ruin. The pillars slowly got covered in vines, the marble floor cracked and flowers grew through the cracks, and the statue was overgrown by moss. No one visited anymore. The last priests died a long time ago and there were no believers left. The god, once loved and worshipped, was forgotten.
Papyrus ducked beneath another branch to avoid being slapped in the face. His stomach growled. Sighing, he kept his eyelights constantly moving through the thick forest. Scanning the area for movement. Constantly staying alert. The hunting bow and arrow lied steady in his hands. He was deeper into the forest than he had ever been before. Yet he continued following the small, overgrown path he had found.
There had been no prey to be found in his usual hunting grounds. After days of no luck, his food would run low, and he was already saving. The year had been bad. Bad harvests plagued the countryside. Most everyone in his village was already running low on food, and it was only October. A torrid October. There had been almost no rain all year. His own small farm didn’t have food to last the coming winter, and he was only one person. The families with children would starve.
Shivers were travelling up his spine. The tree crowns here was so thick he couldn’t see the sky, but he was quite sure night would fall soon. Papyrus had been out all day, with no luck. With sinking soul, he realized he would have to turn back soon. He had been walking all day. There was no telling how long it would take him to get back home, and once night fell the wolves would come out. They didn’t usually attack humans or monsters, but it was best to be safe. Just a little bit longer, he told himself, and he might find something. Then he could feed both himself and his poorest neighbours. Both the families and the poorhouse.
The rough bark scratched his bones through the thin fabric of his trousers as he heaved himself over a huge tree trunk which had fallen over the path. Sliding down was uncomfortable, but it was too big to jump from onto such uneven ground. Papyrus had no wish to hurt himself this deep into the forest. Somewhere no one would find him. While he sat on top of it, he blinked. A strong light dazed him. Putting a hand over his sockets, he looked toward it. They widened. A glen. Or perhaps he walked through the entire forest?
Curious, he made his way toward it. He didn’t know many who had been on the other side of the forest before, if that was where he was. Only the village priest and Elizabeth the Smith when her child fell ill. Papyrus’ steps were silent as he avoided any dry twigs and leaves. A hunter never made more noise than necessary while on hunter. It would scare away the pray.
Light attacked his sockets as he stepped out in the sun. He had to close them for a moment to get used to it. The forest had been so dim. When he opened them again, his mouth fell open. Washed in the pink and purple last sunlight of the day, a temple stood. It must be a temple. No other building in this part of the country would be so beautiful. Well, rather, would’ve used to be so beautiful. It was overgrown, the roof half crumbled in, and the formerly white staircase at the entrance full of mud. Yet, it was obvious it had been a rich place once.
Again, his curiosity would not allow him to leave. The sun stood low, sunset already having started. Night would fall soon. Papyrus should go back, he knew that. Despite that, he stepped forward. Staring at the temple, almost mesmerised, he walked toward it. He studied the area. It truly had been a place of dedicated worship once. Even if the old religion were long gone, he knew that the monasteries still were planned the same way. The temple was the main attraction, of course, but there was the cottage where the priests and priestesses had lived. There was an herb garden. A pond, a spring for water and a pump for cleaning before stepping inside the god’s home.
The path turned into cobblestone leading to the pump, the cottage, and the temple. In the red and oranges of the autumn trees leaning in over the glen and the sunlight, it looked like something out of a myth. One of those about ancient heroes and villains the entire village would gather to listen to during the few times a troubadour came. Climbing the stairs, Papyrus loosened the string on his bow and put it on his back. The temple door was open.
His soul beat in excitement and anxiety as he prepared himself to step in. He took a deep breath. The Congregation wouldn’t like this, he knew. Their god wouldn’t like this. The old religions were forgotten for a reason after all. Stories told about cruel blood sacrifice and revenge. A big difference from the gracious God worshipped today. Yet, Papyrus couldn’t resist. His curiosity had always gotten him into trouble as a babybones, and would continue to do so it seemed.
He gaped as he stepped inside. The temple’s inside seemed made of shadows. Vines covered the walls and pillars. A few late flowers grew on them and on the vines. And in the back of the hall, beneath the broken roof, an enormous statue was bathed in sunlight.
“WOWIE,” he exclaimed, unable to help himself.
Breathlessly he stepped forward. The statue, who must be the temple’s god, sat cross-legged with their hands clasped in their lap. Their head was lowered and they wore a peaceful smile and what must be a robe. On their head, deer antlers sprouted. Or, one did. The other lied on the floor at the statue’s side. Broken. There was a stab of sadness in Papyrus’ stomach. It was such a shame that a place like this would decay so much. Something that had been built with so much care and love.
A warm breeze blew through the hall, caressing his bones. Papyrus studied the statue with a sad smile. It didn’t feel right. Yet not in the way he had expected. It wasn’t fear for old gods, or for his god’s dissatisfaction. Rather a deep feeling that this place should be in better condition.
Suddenly, a whisper, so quiet it was almost inaudible, sounded through the temple.
“hello?”
The temple was quiet. It had been for decades, ever since Sans’ last worshipper died on his stairs. Already a century ago the constant stream of visitors had thinned. They’d found another god, like mortals sometimes did. His last worshipper had been an old human who had died childless. He’d used the little powers he had left to bury her in the forest so she would not rot on the staircase. He had spent many, many years by his altar. Waiting. Hoping someone would arrive. Hoping he wasn’t forgotten. Hoping he wasn’t alone. But mortals were fickle. They forgot. They moved on. Eventually, he had been forced to accept that no one would come.
He lied on a thick tree branch, amusing himself with moving his hands over the smaller twigs and making them bloom. Peonies didn’t grow on trees, obviously, but what fun was being a forgotten deity if you couldn’t play a little? A squirrel ran over the branch, stopping next to him. Chuckling, Sans snapped his fingers and a walnut appeared in his fingers. He stretched out a hand, stroking the little thing’s head before giving it the nut.
“there ya go, buddy,” he told it. Claws scratched against the bark as it scurried away. Laughing quietly, Sans rolled of the branch.
Gently floating down to the ground, white robes wallowing around him, he smiled as more peonies bloomed where he stepped. They immediately disappeared once he left. He didn’t have power to make them stay, not anymore. Yet, they made him happy. Peonies were his favourite flower. And nowadays, they reminded him of when his temple was filled with them. It had been a common offering from people searching blessings, rich harvests, and successful hunts.
A crunching was heard. He froze. That was not the sound of hooves. It wasn’t a deer or rabbit. He knew those noises.
Curious, he floated toward the source. His soul was beating slower. Full of a vain hope he tried to ignore. Sans gasped as a skeleton stepped out in the glen. His soul speeded again. He hadn’t seen a mortal for so long. Hiding behind a tree, he studied them. They seemed surprised, but were smiling. Odd. They must be a believer of the new faith. Everyone in this area was. The believers of that god were quite hostile against any reminder that Sans’ kind had ever been the major powers around here. Had been the ones people came to for advice and good luck.
They made their way over toward his temple. A flash of fear came over him. They didn’t seem antagonistic, but you never knew. They could be here to destroy his home. It was already half-destroyed, ever since the last priests disappeared, and he didn’t want to see the day the temple fell into complete ruin. Nervous, Sans followed them. As a god without any worshippers, he no longer had any power to stop them if they were planning on harming it.
Papyrus’ soul skipped a beat. He twisted around, almost stumbling in his hurry. His eyebrows shot up and his mouth fell open as he stared. In front of him, someone was floating. Someone who looked identical with the statue. White and blue robes, a flower crown on their head, antlers. A god of old.
Unconsciously, he backed a step. His foot hit something hard, and he stumbled. Papyrus let out a short shriek as he fell, waving his arms wildly. Pain flashed through his arms as his elbows hit the hard ground. The god’s sockets widened, and they floated closer.
“careful, pal,” they said. Their voice was soft, but they were smiling. “don’t wanna hurt yourself on this old, broken floor.”
“Who are you?” Papyrus exclaimed, unable to help himself. He stared wide-eyed at the other. Their smile quickly fell. Replaced by something melancholic, and it made Papyrus’ soul pulse painfully. He didn’t like to see anyone sad, even if anyone was a god.
“the name’s sans.” Slowly, he floated toward the ground. Papyrus gasped as his feet hit the ground and flowers shot up through the cracked floor. “i’m the god of this forest. did i scare you?”
For a moment, Papyrus felt like running when the other confirmed they were an old god. A brief moment. Then he smiled, and fought his way back to his feet. Rubbing his elbow, he thought quickly. The gods of old were supposed to be cruel creatures. The Congregation taught that they were tricksters and demons pretending to be gods for sacrifices and power. Yet, Sans didn’t seem to be anything like them. He had imagined gruesome creatures, immediately attacking. Not a graceful being who told him to be careful after falling. The priest always said he was naïve. Too trusting. They said it out of concern, to make him more cautious, even if it hurt slightly. And perhaps he was. But Papyrus didn’t think Sans wanted him anything ill.
He held out his hand, “GREETINGS. I AM PAPYRUS.”
His soul fluttered in nervousness as the god stared at him. Neither moved. Then, the smile returned to Sans’ face and he grabbed his hand gently and shook it. Papyrus sighed in slight relief. It had happened too often that he meant to shake the hand of someone he shouldn’t. Like the new priest, when they arrived. Back then, Papyrus had learnt that apparently not everyone could initiate body contact with a servant of their god. The same applied to the noble owning their village and farms.
As Sans let go off his hand, he pressed his teeth together. Taking a deep breath, Papyrus asked, “I DIDN’T KNOW THERE WERE ANY GODS OF OLD LEFT?”
He watched in horror as Sans’ expression fell again and waved his hands frantically. The god’s shoulders sank and his eyelights dimmed.
“I’M SORRY IF THAT WAS RUDE, I DIDN’T MEAN TO MAKE YOU SAD,” he quickly exclaimed, coaxing a startled laugh out of the other. He shook their head. As he began to speak, they fiddled with the wide sleeves of their robe.
“don’t worry. yeah, there’s not many of us left. after you mortals went over to your new god many decided to leave this world. i stayed.” He fell quiet for a short moment before eyeing Papyrus curiously. “what are you doing here? no one’s come to my temple in many years.”
There was a sorrowful tone to his voice. Papyrus imagined that must be lonely. To be without company for such a long time. He tugged lightly at the end of his scarf. It was the only garment in colours outside of greys and browns he owned. It had costed a fortune, but he loved it.
It felt a little dumb to tell the god he has just stumbled upon the temple out of accident. That he had been desperate for prey and just found himself here. But he didn’t want to lie. Grinning awkwardly, he hunched his shoulders slightly and told Sans the truth. The corner of the god’s mouth twitched. Sans looked upwards, through the hole in the roof, toward the sky. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon. Stars was starting to appear. He spread his arms.
“well, papyrus,” Sans said. “it’s night and you’ve got a long way to walk. i can offer you shelter overnight here in my temple. it was a long time since someone lived here, but the beds should still be alright.”
Papyrus hesitated, and his grin widened. “don’t worry. i’m not gonna ask you for a virgin or something in return.” At the hunter’s surprised expression, Sans chuckled. “yeah, i know the stories your church tells about us. my last worshipper made sure i knew. that was a long time ago, of course, but i can’t imagine they’ve changed their minds. i’ve never taken a human or monster blood sacrifice, i assure you.”
An orange blush burned Papyrus’ cheeks as he nodded mutely. He followed obediently as Sans waved for him to come. It was in fascination he watched flowers bloom and wilt in seconds for every step the other took. It was a small miracle. Like nothing he’d seen before. Sans let him out of the temple, into the priest cottage. For a second, he hesitated. Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea? Then Sans turned to him with questioning expression, and he shook it off.
He trusted Sans. And he didn’t care if it was naïve or stupid.
The room he was shown into was very empty. There were a few beds, a drawer, and three small statues of Sans. It was obvious no one had been in here for a long time. He dragged his knapsack off his back and put it down on the bed as he sat. Sans nodded, and turned around to leave.
“WAIT,” Papyrus exclaimed before he could think of it. Sans froze, and turned back to face him. One of his eyebrows were raised. Lowering his head, Papyrus held out his ransack. “DO YOU WANT TO EAT DINNER WITH ME?”
Sans blinked, gaping slightly, before leaning forward. “really?”
As Papyrus only nodded, his smile widened slightly and he lifted from the ground. The bed swung slightly as the god sat down next to him. He seemed excited. Slowly, Papyrus took up the food he’d taken with him. Two sandwiches with moose beef and a bottle of water. He stretched out one of them toward Sans.
“IT’S NOT EXACTLY FOOD FOR A GOD…” he said hesitantly, but Sans took it without hesitation and bit down. Papyrus watched with wide sockets as a few flowers bloomed on his antlers. Following his expression, Sans lifted a hand to them and dragged it over the antlers. He smiled in what looked like surprise.
“it was years since my antlers flowered,” he mused. He took another bite from the sandwich and another few flowers grew. He looked toward Papyrus with sockets filled of wonder. “It must be because of your offering.”
As Papyrus frowned in confusion, he held up the sandwich. “thank you.”
Letting out a bewilderment, Papyrus stared at him.
“YOU’RE WELCOME. BUT I SHOULD BE THANKING YOU. FOR BEING SO KIND TO ME, A MERE MORTAL.”
Sans chuckled, “believe me, papyrus. i am infinitely more grateful that you’re here than you are.”
They’d stayed up late and talked. Sans seemed to take great joy in listening when Papyrus spoke about everyday things like farming and how the village baker had gotten a kid last week. Papyrus, on the other hand, felt amazed as he listened while Sans told stories about the past. About the stars and about the people who had lived here a thousand years ago. Sans was so old. Eventually, though, Papyrus had been forced to go to sleep. He wasn’t used to staying up late. He went to bed with the sun, normally, and woke up with it as well.
Sans floated around the room as he made himself ready to leave. If he was honest, he didn’t want to. Yet, he must. He had a cow to take care of and the neighbour’s children would be worried. Perhaps, he thought hopefully, someone else too.
“so you’re leaving, huh?” Sans asked, sounding down. The flowers on his antlers had disappeared. Papyrus nodded.
“YES, I’M AFRAID SO,” he replied, dragging a leather boot up on his leg. He stood, and made himself ready to leave the cottage. Then he stopped. Biting down on his tongue, Papyrus opened his knapsack again and fished up a small amulet for good luck he carried around. He held it out.
“FOR YOU, IF YOU WANT IT,” he said, swallowing. Perhaps Sans would be offended that he offered up an amulet from the Congregation which had run out his kind. Yet, he wanted to give Sans something and it was all he had.
That didn’t seem to be the case, though, as Sans carefully took it from his hand. He smiled and hung the amulet around his neck. A warm breeze blew through the glen. “thank you. what can i give you in return? a blessing? i’m afraid i no longer have power to grant a rich harvest, but i can surely give you something small.”
Shaking his head quickly, Papyrus smiled shyly.
“I DON’T NEED ANYTHING.” He did. So much. “IT’S A GIFT.”
Sans’ sockets widened, and so did his smile. He floated up and grabbed Papyrus’ hand, squeezing it slightly before letting go. Quietly they walked toward the edge of the forest, where Sans stopped. He couldn’t leave anymore, he’d told Papyrus. Papyrus’ soul ached at the thought of not seeing the other again. He’d been so nice to talk with. He had actually listened and been interested in what Papyrus had to say.
No. He wouldn’t stand for not seeing Sans again. At least not unless the other didn’t want to. Determined, he looked at Sans. The god looked curious.
“CAN I VISIT YOU AGAIN?” he asked. For a moment, Sans didn’t know what to say. Then his smile turned brighter than Papyrus had seen before and he nodded eagerly. They said their farewells, and Papyrus promised to come back as soon as possible.
As he made his way through the forest, almost back at the village, Papyrus froze. A clopping of hooves was heard. Carefully drawing his bow, he searched for the source of the noise. His soul pounded. A roe deer walked out on the path, in plain sight. It only stood, staring at him. As he let the arrow fly, it twitched and prepared to run. Before it could, the bow hit just above the heart. It took a few steps, before falling to the ground with a thump.
Birds sang in the trees above as Papyrus walked up to it. Staring at it. It was the biggest roe deer he’d seen. The fur was of highest quality, soft as he stroked it. He was grinning in relief and slight bewilderment as he heaved it over his shoulders. Looking around the forest, he smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Sans.”
