Serif stepped through a portal into Sans’ living room. Well…more like tripped and landed on her face. She quickly pulled herself up and brushed herself off. She had something important to tell him. It wasn’t a good thing but she felt like she needed to tell him. She looked around the room but he didn’t seem to be there. She peeked into the kitchen and he wasn’t there either. Maybe he wasn’t home? Or he was in his room. She skipped up the stairs, and knocked on his door. “sans? you here?”
Sans had been feeling sick ever since he spoke to Swap last, so much so he had to skip his visit to Serif. He had an idea of what this feeling was. The building pressure in his soul and bones. How he felt like his skull would just explode under the pressure. His magic was coming back. Whether he wanted it to or not.
He didn’t think he was ready for it to be back. He knew Arial needed help, and rent had to be paid, but he enjoyed being magicless. He enjoyed being a cripple for once. Maybe it was the return of his natural magic. Maybe it was the idea of not having to be responsible for so much. Either way, he didn’t seem to get a choice now.
But the pain. Oh the pain. That was the worst. It felt like he was going to melt or implode or something. He had managed to grab the knife he kept under his dresser, it stained red from his previous endeavors that called for the bleeding of liquid magic. Except he was too shaky to even make a scratch, the blade barely cutting into the bone before he dropped it on the floor. A single bead of Determination dripped down onto the carpet and he did too, holding his head in agony.
Serif would see light and feel heat coming from his room, flashes of different colors escaping from the bottom. The door was locked and the only answer was the painful grunts and muffled yells from Sans.
@thepositivescientist