#variantale

[wanderingtycho]

Variantale: Snowfall, Chapter 3

Hey everyone! Here we are with chapter three of Snowfall, in which we finally get some action going on! I realize the first two stories were a great deal of set up and slow building, and I hope people didn't find that boring, because the scenario I've created really starts picking up from this point on. Any pleasantries between Sans and Frisk are officially over, and even after ten years they're right back to the same old fight. Or, so one of them thinks...

Chapter four will be posted probably next week, so stay tuned for more! Thank you for reading. :)

First-Prev. -Next:

-Tycho

Sans snapped his right fingers, conjuring a wave of bones and launching them at Frisk, leaving trails of faint blue light as they speed towards their target. Frisk ducked down well in advance, jumping back up after the bones whistled harmlessly overhead, their expression grim as they awaited Sans’ follow up attack. Instead, Sans simply flicked his fingers towards his own chest, no new assault materializing behind him.

Frisk blinked in confusion, a half second before they were struck in the back by three bone projectiles, the impact driving them to their knees as they let out a yelp of pain. Sans chuckled cruelly as the remaining bones of his first attack returned and swirled around him like vultures above carrion, slowly forming together into a tight cluster, dozens of bones of varying lengths aimed straight at the human as they shakily climbed to their feet. Frisk could feel the sinister magic Sans employed spread like a searing affliction over their skin, a chilling burn that slowly sapped at their vitality, even a glancing blow would take a deceptive toll. Sans smirked as he watched Frisk grit their teeth against the injury, lowering his bundle of bones down to head height, imparting a latent spell upon the core that gradually built in intensity. “Shoulda warned ya ‘bout that, kid, my bad. Bone magic has a certain...affinity, for me. Seems no matter how hard I toss em’ out, they always come crawlin’ back.” he said, spreading his hands in an apologetic gesture, his leering grin dripping with insincerity. Frisk glared at him impassibly, settling into a defensive stance, they wouldn’t be caught off guard like that again. Or, so they thought.

With an almost casual wave of his hand, Sans sent the cluster of bones lurching towards Frisk, not nearly matching the speed of his initial attack. Frisk was leary, confident they could easily sidestep the mass, but suspicious of Sans implementing another trick. This paranoia proved well founded as the cluster of bones drifted lazily to an almost complete halt a few feet in front  of them, a shrieking instinct warning Frisk to take cover just as the cluster exploded in a deafening burst of magic, flinging out bones in every direction. Frisk rolled deftly to the side as bone shrapnel hurtled towards them, zipping dangerously close to their exposed skin as they huddled into a smaller target, listening for the rain of fragments to come to a stop. After a moment, they raised their head to see Sans staring them down gloatingly, arms crossed and snickering at the sight of Frisk clutching to the snow coated ground for safety. “Oh yeah, probably should’ve told ya ‘bout the whole bone-bomb thing too. What can I say, kid? I’m just bursting with new tricks.” Sans said, chuckling and shining his nonexistent fingernails, shifting his stance as Frisk rose and began moving forward to challenge his position.

Sans squared his shoulders and cracked his knuckles, the flame of his left eye flaring bright, his soul pulsing blue with a familial magic. He reached a hand out and directed the spell towards Frisk’s soul, the human stumbling to a stop and nearly collapsing under a sudden, oppressive weight. They clutched a hand to their chest arduously, immediate panic setting in as they recognized the familiar grip of blue magic, their eyes widening in terror as Sans lifted them clear off their feet to hang in mid air. The skeleton cackled darkly as Frisk struggled in the grip of his spell, every twitch of his fingers causing their body to rotate slightly, he left them completely inverted and glared into their frightened eyes. “This is more like it, eh sport? A nice, classic blue attack, really brings back memories don’t it? Just like ol’ times…” he said, his voice wistful as it was malicious, slamming Frisk against the ground and summoning forth a bed of bones with one smooth motion.

Frisk barely had enough time recover and avoid the full brunt of the attack, bones shooting upwards through the snow and grazing past their legs, the brief second of contact sending agonizing magic shooting through their limbs. Sans wasted no time in following up, as Frisk dove towards him to avoid the searing bones, he stood aside and flung out his hand in the direction of the treeline. The constricting blue magic sent Frisk skittering and stumbling over the ice, hard pressed to stay upright as they rapidly dodged clusters of bones, occasionally clipped by attacks that formed askew. By the time Sans relented and allowed them to skid to a stop, Frisk was left battered and shuddering from various scrapes and abrasions, still clutching their knife like some sort of protective charm. They looked over their shoulder at Sans, still sporting his maniacal grin as he casually shoved his hands back into their pockets, cocking his skull to the side as he appraised Frisk’s condition. “Geez kid, you’re rustier than I woulda thought. I was barely trying with those, and I’ve seen you dodge bones like Grillby dodges small talk.” he said dryly, taking a few steps forward and giving Frisk an amiable smirk, pale eye’s drawn magnetically to the gleam of their knife. “Tell ya what, seein’ as I came into this little scrap with a bit of an...edge, I’ll give ya one free move. Go ahead, kid, gimme your best shot. I’ll just...stand here and take it, scouts honor.” he continued, raising his right hand to his chest in some sort of strange oath, standing perfectly still and daring Frisk with a glowering wink.

Frisk slowly turned to face the skeleton, their breathing steadily growing shallower as Sans’ arcane poison leached away their strength and resolve, their knife suddenly felt heavy and unwieldy. An insidious, sobering thought crept through their mind, the realization that they truly were hopelessly out of practice. It had been so long since they’d actually used their knife against anything more dangerous than tree branches, their instincts had dulled, their level of violence unused and abandoned. Sans though...Frisk felt their heart sink just looking at their jovial adversary, he had spent every minute of the past decade readying himself for this moment, up to this point he’d just been toying with them. If Sans was giving them a free move...Frisk cast a furtive glance towards the treeline, the dense thicket obscuring anything only a few yards away. Maybe they could lose him in the forest.

Frisk slowly and deliberately settled into an attack stance, holding their knife with the spine pressed against their forearm, ready to dart forward and deliver a lightning quick slash. Sans watched them expectantly, seemingly eager for Frisk to finally retaliate, subtly shifting from one foot to the other in anticipation. Just as Frisk was poised to lunge forward, they spun on their heels and set into a sprint towards the treeline, thoughts only on putting as much distance between themselves and Sans as possible. At any moment, they expected bone attacks to come whipping past their head, clusters to burst forth from the ground with their every step. Instead, they ate up the distance without incident, forty feet...thirty...fifteen, Frisk resisted the urge to glance nervously over their shoulder. All that mattered was making it to the trees…

They were within ten feet before the first tremor almost knocked them to the ground, the earth sundered by an earsplitting crack as the edge of the field was torn apart, a wall of titanic bones rising and interlocking to block off the forest. Frisk turned round to see the massive fence spiral outwards to surround the entire clearing, the colossal bones looming over the human imposingly, their stomach dropping as warped shadows stretched over the ice at their feet. As the final bone settled into place, a deathly silence followed while Frisk surveyed the new arena, gaze settling reluctantly on Sans. The skeleton hadn’t moved an inch from the center of the field, hands enwreathed in crackling blue light, his eye sockets totally hollow as he stared back at Frisk. For the first time since their torrid encounter began, Sans’ smile had slipped, his face contorting into something akin to a grimace. He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers, a fleet of hundreds of bones manifesting into existence along the wall to his back, forming into a complex web of dizzying shapes and patterns. Sans’ mouth lifted curtly, launching the bones forward with a wave of his hand, shifting with momentary incorporeality as his own attack phased through his body.

“Wrong move, kid.”

Frisk fought down their panic and focused on the rapidly approaching matrix of bones, tracking the patterns of the interchanging shapes carefully, waiting until the last possible moment to dodge through a gap that had formed. They sailed in between two diamond formations, their feet clearing the attack microseconds before the bones crashed together again, recovering with a roll into a handspring. As they righted themselves, a small flair of exhilaration and satisfaction surged within their soul, immediately snuffed out by the chilling sound of the massive bone attack bouncing off of the wall only a few feet to their back. Without thinking, Frisk launched themselves into a backflip, soaring over a slicing whirlwind of shapes with barely an inch of clearance. They landed on their feet somewhat deftly, heart racing as they watched Sans’ attack dissipate and fade away, dread steadily being replaced by excitement. Frisk caught their breath as they settled back into a ready stance, trying to inhale and exhale evenly, a confidence of their far gone youth resurfacing in their mind. Their grip on the knife relaxed slightly, for the first time in years they felt capable and apt for a challenge, that maybe they stood a chance against Sans’ dedicated efforts to kill them. A small and shaky smile graced their stoic visage, their soul flickering with an ineffable drive, a long forgotten force they’d once called...determination.

Sans whistled and clapped his hands together slowly, beaming with overt sarcasm, a droll smirk spreading across his face. “What an outstanding display of athleticism. Bout’ time you grew a lil’ spine, kid.” he said pointedly, lacing his fingers together and popping his wrists, a brand new wave of bones called into existence just as the first attack fizzled into silvery powder. Frisk began scanning this latest attack for patterns, stuttering upon noticing that a number of the bones were fashioned from translucent blue energy, an augmentation of Sans’ signature magic that was all too familiar. The skeleton warped backwards and leaned a hand against the sheer wall of bone, lifting up his left foot and making a show of cleaning snow off of his sandals, shooting Frisk a glance loaded with a none-too-subtle challenge.

“I’m sure with your newfound confidence, dodgin’ these lame blue attacks a’ mine should be a breeze. Just stay totally still in the middle of your cute lil’ flips. No sweat, right?” Sans asked sarcastically, grinning sidelong at Frisk with a mocking tilt of his head, his left eye flashing bright blue as the waiting wave of bones surged forward. The web of cobalt magic shifted harmlessly through Sans’ body, racing across the ice towards their target with rapidly building speed, again Frisk waited until the last moment to execute their evasion. Diving forward into a crouch and staying completely still, the cluster of blue bones they’d anticipated to form warped past them, an eerie chill crossing over their soul. Frisk immediately pushed themselves off the ground into a sprint, eyes fixed resolutely on Sans as he stood some hundred feet away, only managing a few steps before they spun to dodge the attack as it bounced off the wall of bone.

Sans watched this incremental progress intently, a gleeful flicker in his eyes as the human began to adapt to his erratic attack patterns, dodging adeptly and holding motionless when appropriate. There was a barely perceivable shaking in his hands as he raised them, summoning a que of bone structures at his back, releasing them at random intervals and velocities as to disrupt Frisk’s careful method of evasion. Frisk entered into a state of absolute focus, forced to dodge constantly as they were enveloped in a web of reverberating attacks, each wave exhibiting its own unique pattern and creating a strange dissonant harmony. Had Frisk been merely an observer, they probably would’ve found the display of agility breathtaking, as it was they were rapidly becoming short of breath as the demands of their avoidance steadily ramped up. They continued making efforts to reach Sans as he rested against the wall of bone, partly out of sheer necessity as they made their wild dodges, partly from a grim desire to deliver a proper counter-attack. After a solid minute of maintaining and adapting their acrobatic routine, Frisk’s stamina began to falter, hissing in agony as an errant bone of blue energy singed their left leg. Catching sight of Sans at the edge of their vision as they took a brief moment to adjust, Frisk felt a surge of anger fused with desperation, the shadow within their soul urging them to take more drastic action. Frisk steeled themselves and watched the next matrix of bones race towards them, leaping straight up into a pirouette, spinning through a gap in the attack and flinging their knife towards Sans as they completed their mid-air rotation.

Sans’ eyes widened in genuine surprise as the glinting blade lanced towards him, able to warp out of the way just before the knife impacted, burying itself chillingly deep into the sheer wall of bone. The bone attacks fizzled out in unison, crumpling into the snow and dissipating, Frisk landed back on their feet just as Sans reappeared about a dozen steps to their right. The two opponents locked eyes, Frisk was surprised to see not anger in the skeletons expression as they’d expected, instead a disturbing shine of levity and what might have been...admiration. Sans cast a glance over at the knife handle lodged precisely where the center of his chest had been only moments ago, clapping his hands together and letting out a high pitched whistle, unconsciously running a finger down the length of his sternum. “Hehe..heh..hooo...damn, kid! That was hella close...whaddaya been doin’ all this time, inventing some crazy new sport outta ballet and knife throwin’?!” he asked somewhat shakily, spinning on his feet and gesturing towards the knife, grinning and posing with gusto.

Frisk stood still in their stance, muscles tense and posture conflicted, eyes flicking back and forth between Sans and their weapon. Their first instinct was to bolt and retrieve it, but the whispering spirit within their soul urged them to charge the skeleton instead, to rush him down before he could blink further away. This indecision was more evident than they believed, as Sans let out a brief chuckle before warping a few feet behind them, Frisk spun to see Sans rubbing his chin seemingly in deliberation. “No need to get flustered, kiddo, I can take a hint. No more bone attacks for a while, and just because I like ya, I’ll lay off the blue magic too. Hmmm...what to use then? What to u-ahah! Of course, how could I forget?!” the skeleton exclaimed, feigning a mystified expression as he smacked the side of his own skull, snapping the fingers of his left hand. Frisk immediately felt a great convergence of magic from just above their head, followed by a low, gut wrenchingly primeval growl.

A ghastly shadow enveloped them as they fearfully looked up to see...well, Frisk had never really known what they were. The massive, weathered skull of some primitive animal, the bone bleached dull white and covered in layers of marks and scratches. It’s jaws were lined with rows of chipped, viciously sharp teeth, bifurcated at the chin to allow both segments to separate and snap together at will. Sans’ swirling blue magic rolled over the surface of the bone, pooling at the base of its throat and the hollow eye sockets, occasionally the outline of phantom horns could be seen jutting from its brow. The skull seemed to move on its own accord, tilting itself to stare down at Frisk, a savage and pitiless fire burning within the pits of its ethereal eyes. It parted its jaws and let out a harrowing snarl, sending shivers of dread throughout Frisk’s body, even the shadow lurking in their soul stirred nervously. Sans snickered and shoved his hands back into his pockets, gazing up at the awaiting skull with a gleam of pride, cracking a grin at Frisk as they trembled underneath it.

“Awww, look at that, kid. I think ol’ Gilbert here missed ya, it’s been so long since my boys have had someone to play with aside from their lazybones of a master, and they were always so excited to see you. This’ll be great for the botha’ ya, I think, some nice exercise and a chance to reacquaint yourselves. Oh, and Gil? Remember what I taught you…” he said, addressing the looming skull as it nashed its jaws together menacingly, raising his left hand slowly and snapping his fingers. Instantly, the air above Sans’ skull was filled with a cohort of identical beasts, each one figuratively salivating as they glare silently down at Frisk in anticipation. Sans casually sat down in the snow and let out an exaggerated yawn, snuffing out the glow of his eyes and looking Frisk up and down, a cold joy flickering in his soul at the sight of the human petrified in terror.

“...when there’s only one toy, you all have to share.”

The frigid air was immediately filled with the resonate humming of the blasters charging their attacks in unison, the combined thrum growing in pitch and intensity by the second, the very snow began to shiver gently as vibrations shook the field. Frisk would’ve stood frozen in place, a pathetic evolutionary fear paralyzing them as they awaited annihilation, were it not for the presence within their soul thrashing against their bonds and galvanizing them into action. The human shook themselves out of their stunned state, spinning on their heels and racing towards the wall of bone, eye’s focusing desperately on the puny wooden handle that seemed so far away. A few of the closer blasters were able to adjust their aim slightly before the entire pack fired simultaneously, the whole arena and surrounding forest seemed to shudder at the sound of so much energy discharging, a clangorous echo reverberating throughout the Underground.

Frisk was knocked forward by the focused detonation mere inches to their back, grunting in pain as their elbows barked against a sheer patch of ice, shrugging off the stumble and ignoring the ringing in their ears as best they could. Barely half a second after the last vestiges of the blasts faded, Frisk heard that ominous hum start up again, dread crawling up their spine as they felt the hollow eyes of the blasters piercing through their soul. They forced themselves to stay focused on the worn handle only meters away, straining their energy in a frantic bid to reach the wall of bone before the blasters could fire again, skidding to a dead halt as a trio of the grotesque skulls materialized directly in their path. The seething, ghostly aura of Sans’ magic radiated with growing intensity within their maws, a seismic growl heralding their impending attacks. Frisk spun rapidly in place in search of an escape route, their stomach twisting into a knot as they were encircled by the ghastly skulls, their elongated eye sockets glowing a harsh white as they unhinged their jaws to fire.

The human stood rooted in place and stared silently at the ring of blasters, a damning realization hitting them that they wouldn’t be able to dodge the matrix of lasers, they couldn’t move fast enough to break through the line. For the first time in years...Frisk felt death closing in around them, a familiar sensation of doom crawling across their skin. Time seemed to slow to almost a standstill as the blasters unleashed their magical barrage, Frisk shutting their eyes and exhaling deeply, terror melded with a detached sense of peace falling over them. As they anticipated the beams of searing heat to obliterate them, there was a sudden, inexorable shift of power within their soul. The soft, dull red glow warped into an almost dripping sanguine, their eyelids flying open as a crimson light flashed with their iris’. Frisk’s body lunged forward and dove over the onslaught of explosive energy, roughly landing atop the closest skull and digging their heels and fingers into the bone, launching themselves away from the hyper-focused devastation to land heavily in the snow. Frisk climbed shakily to their feet as the blasters faded behind them, blinking and rubbing their head in confusion, disoriented and reeling from the sudden loss of body control. Just as they were regaining movement in their limbs, Frisk heard a chillingly twisted voice echo inside of their mind, an ache of wrath and hunger pulsating from their soul at the words...

“...NOT...YET...”

[wanderingtycho]

Variantale: Snowfall Chapter 2

Hello everyone! Been about a week since I posted the first part of my new Undertale AU story, Variantale. In this chapter, we get a nice long monologue from Sans, essentially a really tense one-sided conversation. I promise we get to a lot of action in chapter 3, for now its build up, cant just dive right into the most intense part. Not nearly talented enough for that.

Hope you enjoy reading, be sure to check out the previous chapter if you haven't already, stay tuned for future updates. 

-Tycho

Prev. Next

A resounding silence followed Sans revealing himself, the human freezing in place where they stood, trembling visibly as they turned around slowly to face him. At the sight of the grinning skeleton only inches away, the human stumbled backwards in panic, losing their balance and falling unto the pile of branches.

The lengths of wood splintered loudly beneath them, but the human seemed unfazed by their tumble, staring up at Sans with a horrified expression. The two held each other’s gaze wordlessly for timeless seconds, before Sans let out a small chuckle, peeling the whoopie cushion off of his hand and tossing it over his shoulder carelessly. “Not fallin’ for that one again, huh? Heh, guess I can’t be too surprised, you’ve grown up quite a bit since I pulled that gag. Haven’t ya...Frisk?”

The human’s eyes widened in shock as Sans spoke their true name aloud, gripped with sheer uncomprehending fear as Sans grinned down at them, the skeletons eye sockets void of any warmth. Sans shrugged nonchalantly, pushing his hands into their pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels slowly. “What’s the matter, kid? Figured you’d be happy to see a familiar face. It gets kinda...lonely out here, ya know? Nobody to talk to. Nobody to watch your back. I can’t imagine what it musta been like for ya...all these years…” Sans said, his voice laden with what might have been interpreted as sympathy, were it not for Frisk picking up on the undertone of virulent disdain in every word. They kept their eyes glued on the skeletons sleeves, splinters digging into their back and frost seeping into their clothes, terrified to shift their position even slightly lest it prompt an attack. Sans sighed wistfully and took a step closer, causing Frisk to flinch involuntarily, their heart pounding wildly as the skeleton began to walk in a wide circle around them. Sans shuffled slowly and leisurely through the snow, appearing totally relaxed as he lifted his skull to stare at the darkness that hung above their heads, his sockets drinking in the emptiness as his smile grew incrementally. “As for me? Eh, I’ve been stayin’ busy.” he said, glancing over at Frisk and chuckling, the hollow sound sending chills up their spine. “Hehehe...I know, shocking, right? Yeah, turns out, doin’ nothin’ gets kinda dull after awhile. Guess ya could say...” he continued, suddenly whipping out his left hand and snapping his fingers at Frisk, the human scrambling backwards in fright. “...I was bored outta my skull!” Sans paused mid-step and started cackling, shutting his eyes and clapping his hands together in amusement, Frisk could only stare silently at the laughing skeleton as his giggling further unnerved them. After a few moments Sans’ laughter came to an abrupt stop, the lights in his sockets sparking back to life as he opened them, looking at Frisk and rubbing his chin in faux confusion. “Hmmm...eh, ya probably heard that one before, right? Welp, I’ll haveta use some new material then.” he said, squaring his feet and cracking his knuckles, the sound of popping bones harsh and grating. He looked at Frisk and smiled genially, gesturing for them to stand up, his eyes staring them down unblinkingly. The human shakily climbed to their feet, posture hunched and face drawn anxiously, unable to stop themselves from looking to their fallen knife as it laid half buried in snow. If Sans noticed the subtle movement of Frisk’s eyes, he didn’t let on, instead he cleared his throat to draw their attention. “Alrighty, whaddya call a Froggit without legs?” he asked jollily, tilting his skull slightly at an angle, grinning wide as he looked at Frisk expectantly. The human blinked, nonplussed at Sans’ question, deeply confused and unsettled by the skeletons insistence on telling trivial jokes. Frisk made no visible effort to speak or offer any response, the silence between the two building to an uncomfortable length, until Sans unexpectedly shifted his stance and snapped both of his fingers. “Hoppin’ mad!” he exclaimed gleefully, pausing for a moment to allow his one person audience to laugh, the only audible sound he received was the distant moaning of wind. Frisk looked Sans up and down, forcing themselves to make eye contact despite their rapidly fraying nerves, trying to figure out what the skeleton was trying to do. At any moment, the human fully expected Sans to begin his assault, convinced that his oddly morbid puns were an attempt to put them off their guard. Frisk was loathe to admit it, but Sans’ approach was working, paranoia mounting as a cold sweat formed on the nape of their neck. The skeleton slowly lowered his hands to his sides, his grin shrinking fractionally, shutting his eyes and shaking his skull slightly. “Not even a smirk, huh? Oh well, ‘least I tried...” Sans said ruefully, raising his right hand and snapping his fingers, the sound piercingly louder than his comic signature. Within seconds, the already chilling temperature plummeted as snow began to fall rapidly, the tearing winds roaring into a roiling frenzy. Frisk gripped their shoulders tightly and huddled over in a futile attempt for warmth, shivering underneath their inadequate clothing, eyes slitted against the growing blizzard. Sans opened his eyes and stared through the torrent of sleet at the freezing human, his left eye socket glowing with a fiery blue light, crossing his arms and leaning into the wind as casually as he’d lean against a wall. “So, kid…” Sans said, his voice carrying easily to Frisk’s ears despite the howling wind between them, his words stinging at the human just as coldly. “...before we start, I wanted to ask ya a couple...questions. Don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to answer. First off, when’d ya realize the resets were ruining this world?” he asked, smirking at the sight of Frisks expression, their jaw almost dropping in shock. The skeleton chuckled emptily and shrugged, idly kicking at tiny pieces of snow. “Don’t look so surprised, kiddo, I knew from the very beginning. All I could do was try and discourage ya, and, well...that plan didn’t exactly work out now, did it? After the first few hundred, I was getting pretty tired of going through our little stories...by the time we got to a thousand, I started picking up on a few things. Trees randomly disappearing, odd patches of ground wildly shifting colors, even Snowdin started to...change.” Sans said, running a hand slowly over his skull as memories of his previous lives tumbled through his mind, the magical flame of his eye flaring brighter as the cold magnified. Frisk’s teeth started to chatter, their shivering growing more severe as pallor spread over their skin, eyeing Sans’ line of sight carefully. Whenever the skeletons eyes were off them, they dared a hesitant half step forward, closer to their fallen weapon. “I guess...that’s what really broke me, ya know?” Sans mused, unclear whether or not he was addressing Frisk, as if his awareness of the situation was fading in and out. “It’s kinda sad to think...but I sorta...got used to getting killed. It didn’t bother me as much anymore, but...watching this world slowly decay with every reset...I couldn’t take it.” he continued, a terrible weariness evident in his voice, his gaze suddenly snapping up to glare at Frisk. The human jarred their incremental progress to a halt, petrified by the loathing, hauntingly blue light spilling forth from the skeletons sockets. “You though, bet ya didn’t even lose a step. So what if reality itself is crumbling, huh? As long as you got to keep...playing your game.” Sans spoke through gritted teeth, his last three words punctured with palpable disgust, Frisk shuddered as Sans’ malice translated to battering gusts of wind. With a desperate lunge, Frisk lurched forward and scrabbled through the snow, hand wrapping around the handle of the knife. They scrambled to their feet, clutching the gleaming blade defensively, confidence resurging as their fingers felt the familiar grain. The human turned their focus back to Sans...only to stare at vacant space where the skeleton had been standing. Frisk’s heart dropped to their stomach, spinning around in panic, desperately searching for their adversary. “Second question.” whispered a harsh, empty voice next to their ear, causing Frisk to leap away and slash at the sound reflexively. The knife whistled through swirling snow, leaving them panting as blood pumped through their system, eyes widened in fright. “Why come all the way out here?” the voice continued, emanating from a few feet behind Frisk, the human swallowed dryly and turned to face Sans. The skeleton stood next to an emaciated sapling, running a finger over the ice coated branches absently, eye sockets still smoldering with excess energy. “I’m not egotistical enough to assume you were only hiding from yours truly, though ya must’ve thought somebody was after you, covering your tracks as well as ya did.” he said, flashing a menacing grin at Frisk, satisfied at they involuntarily gripped their knife tighter. By this point, a proper blizzard had built around the opposing figures, Sans coat billowing behind him as iceey flakes bounced harmlessly off his bones. In contrast, Frisk was well aware of the disadvantage the storm presented, having to constantly flex their fingers and shift their stance just to avoid frostbite. Their hair was streaked with frost as it was batted about by errant gusts, cold leaching into their body through their flimsy clothing, they could only glare at the skeleton as he continued his monologue undaunted. “Undyne maybe, didn’t even have the patience to fight her this run, did ya? Nah, shoving her off a bridge after that poor kid was much faster, saved ya a whole five minutes. Speaking of time, never seen ya tear through the Underground so fast, kid.” Sans said, chuckling and brushing the ice off his shoulders, the snow evaporating violently as his magic contacted it. Frisk maintained their expressionless demeanor, but internally the humans thought were a maelstrom. Caught between contemplating Sans’ uncanny knowledge of their actions and feverishly preparing a defense strategy for the skeletons inevitable attack. Sans, for his part, projected an air of utter control. Every subtle twitch of his fingers sent wind lashing at Frisk, the temperature dropping so quickly their sweat had started to freeze, beginning to lose sensation in their extremities. “Makes me wonder, why the rush? You were always so...methodical, before that day.” Sans continued, directing his attention away from the sapling and facing Frisk directly, his smile fixed and static as he took a deliberate step towards them. The human stiffened, but did not retreat, digging their heels into the snow in anticipation for his approach. The skeleton seemed pleased by their display of resolution, lacing his fingers together behind his back, starting to stalk as opposed to his usual stroll. “Somethin’ musta spooked you bad, kid. Bad enough to make ya sloppy, leaving survivors is never a smart move. Especially with this lot, monsters are...pretty good at rebuilding, ya know?” he asked, his tone deceptively light-hearted, somewhat betrayed by his looming silhouette. Frisk raised their knife, half as an attempt at an intimidating gesture, half as a security reflex. With every step the skeleton took, the tension between them mounted, while the ice laden winds raged on. Sans stopped a mere ten feet away, Frisk meeting his luminous gaze evenly, the opponents squaring off for a long minute before Sans made a move. He slowly raised his hand, fingers primed to snap, Frisk tensing in preparation to dodge whatever was coming. To their surprise, upon Sans snapping his fingers, the frigid tempest surrounding them died out in an instant. The clearing was left in an almost unnatural silence, Frisk became aware only of their own breathing, the racing of their heart as anxiety mounted further. Sans lowered his hand and raised his skull to look up past Frisk, seemingly infatuated with some distant object above their head, a fleeting thing that only the skeleton could see. “One last question, kid. This one, I expect you to answer, so drop the whole mute act just for a minute.” Sans said, his voice strangely soft and calm, no trace of antagonism on his face. He looked Frisk dead in the eye, and somehow, the human briefly believed that Sans might’ve had no ill intent after all. Then the skeleton spoke, and any doubt was dispelled, the question they had been dreading finally delivered point blank. “Why’d ya kill him, Frisk? Why did you kill Papyrus?” It seemed the whole forest fell quiet at Sans’ words, nature itself holding an anxious breath, Frisk felt as though all the eyes left in this fractured world were staring straight through them. At this point, they had gotten used to Sans’ one sided soliloquy, but now the skeleton looked them down wordlessly as he waited for a response. The silence between them stretched on for a few minutes, then a dozen, almost half an hour passed without Frisk making any effort to speak. For an eerily familiar moment, they felt themselves standing back in the Judgement Hall of Dreemurr Castle, exhausted yet primed to strike as they watched Sans slowly drift off to sleep after his final attack. No hope of that happening again this time, Sans was wired and animate, eyes pulsing with magic he could barely constrain. After another few moments dragged on, Sans clenched his hands into fists as his frustration grew, taking a deep breath and exhaling to keep his voice steady. “I’m not talking about all the other times you...murdered him. I’m talking about that day, ten years ago, when the resets stopped.” he said, keeping his tone deliberately flat and neutral, though Frisk had started to pick up on the notes of desperation. “Ya know, I didn’t start tracking you right away, hell it took me a few months just to crawl out of bed. I figured, what was the point? Even if I found you, you’d just hit the button, and this whole...fucking nightmare would start up anew like always.” Sans continued, his efforts to keep his voice under control faltering, cracking as years of pent up anguish flared wildly in his soul. Frisk could only stare at the skeleton as he started to tremble in place, his jaw clenched shut as an emotional fit gripped him, magic spilling down his sleeves and gathering at his feet. “Then I thought, why hadn’t it happened already? It dawned on me...you can’t do it anymore, can you? The power you held over this world, over the innocents you’ve tortured, somehow you lost it. That’s why you panicked, why you ran at a dead sprint towards the castle, towards the Barrier. It was your only chance, your only way out. You didn’t stop for anything...except...except to kill him.” he uttered through gritted teeth, his eye sockets bursting a seething blue fire, an aura of magic scorching the earth surrounding him. Frisk opened their mouth, perhaps in an attempt to placate Sans’ rant or simply hanging open in shock, but it didn’t matter. Sans was beyond interrupting, gripping the sides of his skull as his powers pounded against his bones, eager to escape and wreak havoc. “It...doesn’t make any sense. You were trying to reach the end as fast as possible...not lay waste to everything. Just...the ones you couldn’t avoid killing, right?! But Paps...kid, he...he would’ve carried you to the damn castle if you’d asked him! You’ve ignored...so much...disregarded all the damage you’ve done. Why...why couldn’t you have done the same for him?!” Sans was near hysterical at this point, stricken with grief and rage, dark blue tears dripping down over his teeth. Frisk watched in mixed horror and fascination as minute cracks began to spread along Sans’ knuckles and jawline, radiant magic enveloping his body in a ghastly shroud, his form barely recognizable as arcane energy flowed like a living armor over his bones. Sans’ skull suddenly snapped up to glare at Frisk, his gaze filled with unfathomable hatred, the human feeling a true urge to flee for the first time. “Well?! What was it, you evil little bastard?! Why couldn’t you have just left him alone?! ANSWER ME!!” Sans’ voice echoed as his shouting grew louder, resonating with the vestiges of harrowing magic, nearby snow drifts collapsing and icicles shattering at his words. Frisk felt crippling fear shoot through them, doubts welling in their mind as they trembled before the skeleton, desperately trying to think of something to say that would save them. Before they could formulate any such solution, something stirred within the depths of their soul...a presence that had kept dormant for years. It wrested control away from Frisk for only a brief moment, long enough to flash Sans a taunting sneer, throwing up their hands and giving an exaggeratedly apathetic shrug. Within seconds, Sans’ magic died out, leaving the skeleton seemingly in a daze. His arms hung limp at his sides, sandals sinking into the snow beneath his feet, eyes shut as if enraptured by the quiet around him. “Heh..hehehe…” he chuckled, a sound without any trace of humor, ringing with a profound exhaustion. When he opened his eyes again, Frisk was left staring into two empty pits...only they weren’t empty. A pitch black, abyssal substance churned and shifted within Sans’ skull, his sockets a glimpse into the depthless Void. Sans flicked his left wrist in an offhand motion, Frisk felt the ground begin to tremble violently beneath their feet, dodging away a half second before a cluster of ethereal bones burst upwards and speared clean through the earth. They climbed shakily to their feet, eyes wide and stance caged, a cold dread settling over them as Sans’ serene face was split by a fearsomely crazed grin. “Alright, let’s go.”

[wanderingtycho]

Variantale: Snowfall, Chapter 5

Hey everyone! Been doing a poor job adhering to my semi-weekly posting schedule, so I’ve decided to post a shorter chapter for Snowfall and start making serious progress on the final chapters moving forward. As you’ve probably surmised if you’re keeping up with this series, I get more excited for each new installment, especially when we’re getting into some delightful character progression. 

Anyways, hope you enjoy, be sure to check out the previous chapters if you haven't already. :) :3

First- -Prev

-Tycho

Sans lashed out with a series of explosive strikes, the initial impact against Chara’s jaw sent her reeling, barely able to keep her footing as Sans delivered critical blows to her joints. She lashed out wildly in an effort to fend off the attacks, but Sans simply grabbed her by the wrist and twisted sharply, Chara snarled in pain but her grip remained steadfast.

With a swift pirouette she broke the skeletons hold and dashed backwards, eyes widening as Sans closed the distance instantly without teleporting, moving with a physical agility Chara would never have believed him capable of. The skeleton lunged forward with a snap kick to her kneecap, as Chara’s leg buckled and she started to crumple, Sans swung upwards with a punch just below her sternum. The human gasped and staggered backwards, falling into the snow to stare up into the shadowy sky above her in a bizarrely serene moment, panic immediately flaring as she saw Sans leap into view. He had summoned a blue attack into his right hand, the bone shaped glow and his searing arcane eyes the only visible parts of his silhouette as he plummeted downwards, icy gaze aimed directly at Chara’s throat.

The human rolled to the left an instant before Sans landed, the impact sending gouts of snow upwards and showering back onto them, bone attacks digging deep into the ground where Chara’s chest had been. Chara steeled herself and retaliated, swiping outwards and cleaving the normal bone attack in two, causing Sans to snatch his hand away and surge to his feet. The human pressed her advance to keep him on the defensive, forcing the skeleton to dodge a whirlwind of chops and stabs, his expression flat and eyes pulsating as he moved. Sans kept up his avoidance routine patiently and observantly, ducking and sidestepping each wild slice whistling within inches of his bones, waiting for Chara’s movements to show evidence of frustration.

Sure enough, he caught the embers of anger and exasperation burn within those sanguine eyes, abruptly breaking her pattern of swings by feigning towards his right side before driving straight for his chest. Sans countered by promptly teleporting adjacent to her, holding out his blue attack at stomach level, and allowing her to simply stumble forward through the bone of crackling energy. Chara growled as she felt the sinisterly cold, almost electric magic rent through the core of her being, whipping herself around with a rage induced slash just as Sans warped out of reach. Before the human could mount a further attack, Sans decided to go back on the offensive, snapping his right hand outwards and splaying his fingers as his eye flared cobalt blue. A relatively small blaster materialized in front of his hand, instantly discharging a shaped short range explosion, flinging Chara backwards several yards to land bodily onto the frozen ground.  

Chara laid sprawled out on the harsh stretch of ice, one hand clutched tightly over the smoldering wound in her chest, feebly keeping the knife pressed against her arm as she heard Sans’ footfalls growing ominously closer. They stopped just as an emaciated shadow crossed over her, Chara shut her eyes tight and inhaled shudderingly, ignoring the searing pain eating into her as she consolidated all of the determination she could muster. As she heard Sans take a breath to speak, Chara launched herself upwards and brought her knife down with blistering force, eyes blazing solid red and mouth twisted into a beastial snarl. Within that split second she was unable to register Sans’ hand moving, but suddenly her devastating attack was forced to a dead stop, the jarring impact sending shudders down her arm and nearly dislocating her shoulder. The roaring, primeval energy within Chara was nullified as she felt cold skeletal fingers curl around her own, narrowed eyes drawn shakily to look at the knife clutched in her hand. Sans had indeed blocked her explosive assault...by driving his hand upwards as she’d brought the knife down, the blade pierced clean through his palm as he held Chara’s grip in his grasp.

A trickle of blood traced its way down his arm and began to drip steadily unto the ground, driven snow stained a dull red as metal wrenched within Sans’ grizzly wound, Chara and the skeleton locking gazes yet again as they stood toe to toe. Chara had seen Sans bleed more times than she could recall, but the strike had always been fatal, an injury that’d shattered his veneer of nonchalance and left him sobered in his final moment. Now, as she looked into Sans’ hollowed sockets, she could see the struggle to hold himself together while his smile remained chillingly unchanged. Sans cleared his throat with a labored, strangled noise, fingers tightening painfully around Chara’s as he spoke.

“F o r...t h e...r e c o r d...I was...just gonna make a joke...about your failed...ice skating career.” he said haltingly, each syllable punctuated with a pained, shallow intake of breath. Chara blinked, nonplussed, hardly able to believe Sans was still standing and able to maintain his humourous facade. Her eyes flicked rapidly between the knife grappled between them, Sans’ vacant eyes glaring into her, and his free hand clenched so tightly his ashen knuckles creaked audibly. She couldn’t release her grip on her weapon even if she wanted to, and moving her other hand away from the scorch wound over her soul would leave her in blinding agony, she could only hope to drag out the stalemate for a while longer.

“Hhhrr...hhee...h-how...how the hell...are you still alive?  It’s only supposed to take...one hit.” Chara asked, panting short gasps of air between words, each breath deepening the ache in her chest. Sans began to tremble slightly as he held Chara in place, feeling himself begin to slip as his soul writhed behind his ribcage, already flakes of dust were starting to peel off his bones and fall to the ground alongside the snow drifting hazily around them. He ground his jaw into a even toothier grin, fighting desperately against the creeping spread of death, his left eye sputtering a pale blue glow as he willed his essence to endure and persist.

“Heh...hrrh...haha...heh,‘tis but a...flesh wound! Heheh...didja really t-think...I’d bite it that easy...after all it t-took to...track you down? No...no dice, princess.” Sans growled in reply, words hitching in his throat as crippling pulses wracked him, slowly sinking lower into the snow as his stance began to falter. Chara picked up on his weakening state instantly, her grimace of pain insidiously shifting into an impossibly wide smirk, eyes twinkling red as she pushed her knife downwards with renewed vigor. Sans sharply inhaled through his teeth, pupils shrinking to pinpricks of distant light as the human forced him to the ground, pain slowly stripping him of strength as his knees folded beneath him. A harrowingly familiar sensation gripped him, he could feel the very particles of his being shiver and start to dissolve, the only thing binding his body together was the magic seeping rapidly from his soul. Chara let out a short, scathing chuckle, closer to how she might have actually laughed when she had been fully alive.

“Oh Sans, a comedian to the bitter end, it’d be inspiring if you weren’t leaving such a pathetic legacy. Ten years of hunting, ten years in exile away from all the monsters you could’ve helped, and for what? Just admit it to yourself already. You came out here to die, why else would you’ve picked a fight with Frisk in the first place? You could’ve killed them the moment you saw them, whipped up a fleet of Blasters and ZAP.  That’s all she wrote, but no, you chose to go through with the whole charade like you always did. Keeping Frisk alive knowing they couldn’t give you what you wanted, beating them down waiting for me  to take over...the only person capable of putting you out of your misery.”  Chara’s voice was coated in a ghastly approximation of gentleness, her grin flashing teeth as she watched Sans deteriorate before her eyes, the skeleton skittering on the edge of complete disintegration as he glared silently up at her. Chara carefully pulled her hand away from the charred wound in her chest, the tender smile she had fashioned slipping briefly, returning as she slowly extended her hand and rested it against Sans’ skull. The skeleton flinched and tried to pull away, but it was taking every ounce of his concentration just to stay conscious, he could only watch through shuddering vision as Chara traced a finger along the cracks beneath his eye. “You’re in pain, Sans, you’ve always been in pain. You might not believe it, but I understand that pain, to be caught in between life and death. It’s a waking hell, knowing you can never escape, never be...at peace again.” Chara sighed, for a fleeting moment there was something genuine in her voice, something empathetic and human. It vanished as she gazed deeply into Sans’ sockets, eyes burning bright red and sadistic smile spread ear to ear, twisting her blade to further gouge Sans’ wound. “It’s too late for me, but there is a way for you to end the pain, Sans. Just. Give. Up.”  She whispered, punctuating each word with an additional rotation of the knife, hands gripping tightly at Sans’ fingers and face, urging him to surrender.

Sans barely registered the knife shifting and grating against his bones, barely felt the human’s fingers pressing against his fractures, all sensation had blurred into a dull pulse that matched his feathering soul. Some small, tired part of his mind, a part that bore the weight of his tragically long life agreed with what Chara was saying. He was in pain, more pain than he could ever hope to quantify, and he did want it to stop. Sans’ eyelids began to sink, or perhaps his skull itself was melting under the intense magical pressure, either way his vision was narrowing to darkness. As his perceptions started to fade, a faint glimmer of light caught Sans’ attention, a vibrantly crimson glow emanating from underneath Chara’s burnt wound.

It piqued his curiosity, but any effort to move seemed futile, his struggle was becoming pointless. Sans exhaled shakily, his skull tilting forward to hang against his chest, that rapid pulse slowing as his soul entered free fall. Then, strangely, he felt...hands placed on his shoulders. He could still feel Chara’s fingers pressed against his faltering body, and the grip on his shoulder blades was...comforting. They seemed bizarrely familiar, the feelings of loss and lonesomeness that plagued him were dispelled, and as Sans’ descent was brought to a standstill...he heard a voice echo through his soul.

“SANS...YOU CAN’T GIVE UP NOW...YOU’VE COME SO FAR. YOU HAVE THE POWER TO OVERCOME THIS...TO TAKE AWAY WHAT SUSTAINS THEM. PLEASE, I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT...I BELIEVE IN YOU...BROTHER.”  

Sans’ eyes opened wide as energy bolstered his soul, magic erupting and spilling over his crumbling bones, the sound of Papyrus’ voice ringing clear within his skull. To hear his brother speak again, whether it really was from beyond the grave or if he’d finally gone insane, Sans couldn’t care less. A few joyous, copious tears fell from his sockets, a true smile stretching back across his face. Sans dug his heels into the frost and forced himself to his feet, raising his skull to see Chara’s shocked and enraged expression, turning his focus to the sanguine aura radiating from the center of her chest. Frisk’s soul, visibly glowing under possession by Chara, Sans abruptly realized his attack had almost completely scorched away the layers of flesh and muscle that’d kept it obscured. He could feel the energy leaking out into the frigid air, the abscess of determination keeping Chara in control, sustaining her indomitable will...a sinister smirk slowly crept along the skeletons non-existence lips.