lifeaftr | Ruins Mingle Log!

Entry tags:

Ruins Mingle Log!

Who: Newt Geiszler

ohnehalfte and EVERYONE
What: So a bunch of people headed up towards the ruins, so they've got to all run into each other and start to congregate, right???
When: Evening of the mingle log and onwardish.
Where: The Ruins
Warnings: Um...same as the mingle log?

The beach curves up a gentle slope until it meets forest, some manner of building visible through the trees. Further exploration of this area will reveal a dilapidated building of sorts; the architecture is indiscernible to even the most skilled eye. Despite looking as if it has seen better days, there are areas that offer some form of shelter...and who knows what else. Just because it appears uninhabited doesn’t mean you won’t wind up pleasantly, or unpleasantly, surprised.

[ooc: Hey y'all! I thought this might be a good place to start getting larger groups of characters together to do some exploring, settling down, banding together and figuring out rations, etc. Feel free to throw up any threads of your own for specific things like exploration groups, a gathering in the entrance hall, whatever strikes your fancy or that you think your character would organize. Have a party!

Edit: Additionally, there is now an OOC Post for those that want to handwave their character signing up for ruin exploration]

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[ The ruins aren't exactly similar to any of the crumbling architecture he's seen both in Dusty Puzzle Castle or in the Underground, but it's about the only 'familiar' feature about this place full of 'firsts' -- monster's first beach, first ocean, first shipwreck, first surreal tropical post-death vaycay.

So Sans, for a lack of anything better to do, shoulders his backpack and shuffles through the crystalline sand in his ridiculous dustmop slippers. The humidity has started to seep into his galaxy print hoodie, making it hang from him a little more heavily. At least he isn't struggling with the heat like a lot of these other guys. The pockets bulge.

It's when he's poked his skull into the entrance that he notices other people are already here; only reason Sans doesn't duck back out is because he recognizes one of them -- from, uh, a dream? Eh, weirder has happened. Hell, for all he knows, it's a residual memory he gleaned from that time he and Wade were attached at the spiritual hip that stuck to his subconscious like a burr.

Plopping his knapsack on the ground is easy, but keeping out from underfoot while Newt tries to herd people is harder -- just don't trip on his knapsack while you try to manage this thing you're doing, pal.

It's during a rare lull that he pipes up, from where he's finally settled to sit, using his knapsack to prop himself up. ]

Guess this is what you humans call herding cats.

[ He flexes his phalanges in a kind of wave. ]

Good meowning.

[ Ugh. ]

[Newt's been keeping himself so busy that he doesn't even notice that Sans is there until he pipes up--at which he absolutely not only gets Newt's attention, but holds it. Quite well, considering the way Newt's staring at him. It's recognition, of course, because how could be not recognize Sans--but it's the galaxy print hoodie and the ache that sits just behind his ribs that gives him pause. It's...hazy at best, but Newt has a feeling of unsettlement and a sad ache sitting low in his stomach, which by all account doesn't make sense because it's Sans.

But

It's just

Sans doesn't have a galaxy print hoodie. At least, not the one that Newt knows. But boy he sure has been staring at Sans for a long moment so he should probably say something.]

....hi, Sans.

[whoops, yep, his voice sure did crack on that--and Newt clears his throat]

Yeah. I know.

[ Sans grins. Well, ok, to be fair, his face is sort of stuck that way, but it's better than the alternative. One that might put Newt more on the spot than he seems already. It's clear (at least, to the skeleton) that the inkling of familiarity is more than just a vague sense of déjà vu, it's practically written on Newt's face through all those seconds of watchful silence.

Maybe one do-over wasn't enough, after all.

He shrugs, eyelights roaming. ]

So, what's up? This your base of, uh, survival operations?

[He doesn't know who Newt is. The knowledge feels like deja vu, like he's done this before, but even so, it doesn't stop the impact from being harsh. Newt's not entirely sure what his face does, but he has to turn away, bending down to rummage in his backpack, even though there's not really anything he needs in there. He knows, by now, that he's not good at hiding emotions. It's not his style. But he doesn't want this Sans to see his face, either--there's too much to do, and part of him is worried that if he digs too hard into this, it'll break down any floodgates he's been barely managing to keep up by keeping himself busy. Newt clears his throat again.]

Yeah, in so far. We'll have to see if there's anything dangerous in here, but for now, it's a start. The more people we can get to congregate, the safer we'll be, I think.

[ Here's yet another incident to add to the mountain of evidence that the only thing Sans is reliably good at is disappointing people. He can't see Newt's expression and doesn't need to, there's a wince in his eye sockets as he sits back up, listening to the human rifle through his own knapsack.

This prompts him to extract a few things that have been weighing down his own, too. ]

Makes sense.

[ Something drops heavily to Newt's side, with the sound of liquid sloshing around inside a container. It's a jug, filled with water, if he investigates. Next to this lands a bar of soap. Then a hatchet. And some flint and tinder. Looking depleted, Sans's knapsack droops into the floor. ]

You'll make better use of this stuff than me, so, uh. You can have it.

[Newt startles a bit at the thing that drops at his side, and he's turning to blink at it in confusion--along with the other items that soon follow.] I--[and he's frowning. He still doesn't look at Sans, not yet.]

...dude. What if you need some of this stuff? I mean, I know monsters don't eat human food, but we have no idea how long we're gonna be stuck here, and some of this might come in handy.

[ Although Sans doesn't point out how weird it feels to barely know a guy and have him know stuff as personal as what you can and can't eat, he still catches himself momentarily wondering just when, how, and why he got so used to the concept of 'other Sans-es'. There's knowledge of the theoretical concept, sure, he's got plenty of that, but he's a guy who relies on perceived evidence, and far as he knows he doesn't really have much of that prior to running into people who literally hailed from different timelines.

His thoughts wander to something else, rather readily. ]

Then I'll ask to borrow it. Listen, it's, uh. Real cool you're thinkin' of me, but you're organizing these guys and I know how it works.

[ And, obviously, Sans wants nothing to do with the responsibility. However, that doesn't mean he's going to make it any harder for the guy who does. ]

You're in a way better position to figure out who can use these to the advantage of all of us.

[ His kind were trapped under a mountain for his whole life, and those of other generations. They had few resources. He knows how this works, he's used to this. ]

[....really, the hardest part about this is how surprisingly easy it is to just fall into conversation as if nothing is wrong. As if this is just his Sans, the one he knows, like it hasn't been any time at all. But it's not, he's not, and Newt knows it--but he shakes his head a bit] I'm not organizing. I'm just trying to make sure something doesn't jump out and eat us in the middle of the night, and I can't go check that by myself.

[...but....he huffs, sitting back and looking at the stuff on the ground, before he finally, finally forces himself to look up at Sans. Sans, who is both familiar and alien, because it's him, it is, except how it isn't. And Newt swallows] Do you at least know how you're gonna get some food?

[ He chuckles, like he doesn't buy that, like maybe he knows better. Maybe Sans does, but he probably doesn't. Maybe he's banking on the fact that humans have a tendency to fall in line if someone shows the slightest amount of assertiveness and responsibility. That Newt might find himself organizing them without really meaning to, just because he's smart enough, capable enough, and present. ]

Sure. You just also happen to be organizing.

[ When Newt looks, so does Sans, lifting his skull a little, his grin casual. Unbothered. It's just another day ending in y. ]

I got it covered.

[ Those eyelights, though, dim and blankly directed not at Newt so much as at a point past his shoulder, if that look feels familiar, maybe that's because Newt's seen it before.

He doesn't know, he doesn't... particularly care, either. He's just kinda rolling with it, squeaking by in the day to day. It's fine. ]

Hey, you ever find out if any of these guys know First Aid?

[ Not even here a month and already looking for someone to shirk responsibility onto. ]

Listen, just because I don't want to get a nasty surprise--[he blinks, though, pausing, as Sans looks...not at him, but near him, with a familiar expression. Yeah, Newt knows what that expression means, and his mouth twists]

Do you actually have it covered, or are you just telling me that so you don't have to deal with it. [it's more a statement than a question, eyes starting to narrow. He's onto you, buddy.]

...as for the first aid, there's a guy that said he at least knows a couple things about medicine, so that's a start.

[ To Sans's credit, he doesn't give much of a sign he's been caught, just his eyelights fixing directly on Newt and a pause. It's one thing to see the recognition in a stranger's eyes, quite another when they read you like you've been pals for ages.

He could guard himself better, tell himself to watch out for this one, or feel... guilty for lying about something so inconsequential, or annoyed at getting called out--

But Sans shrugs. He just shrugs. ]

I found some mushrooms. Buddy of mine caught some fish. We're good.

[ More or less. He has to spend time putting some of his own magic into what he eats, just to make it, uh, perform marginally better. It's not ideal, since it requires that thing called effort, but... eh. ]

You know what this guy looks like? I wanna know who I point to if one of these humans gets hurt.

[There's a tension in Newt's shoulders that relaxes once Sans admits to actually being covered. He huffs a bit, but nods, before pointing out Shiro in the crowd] That guy. Apparently he's some kinda priest, but also has medical knowledge. So there's that, at least. Even if we haven't got much in the way of supplies, we kinda have someone who knows their way around a broken bone.

[Newt pauses at that, considering] Not that I don't, but my application is mostly theoretical, and, uh....setting people's broken bones and shit is not something I want to do exactly.

[ Geez, the relief Newt exhibits is practically palpable. Sans doesn't know how he feels about that, maybe a little put on the spot, a little like he's responsible for something he barely understands.

But Newt's pointing at someone, and following the direction of his hand, Sans nods in recognition. ]

Oh yeah, that guy. Saw him around back where I was. Y'know. Before this.

[ Hadn't seen him for ages. Well, not his problem. ]

Heh heh, ok. I'll make sure I don't break anything.

[ He wouldn't survive that anyway, he's pretty sure. ]

What about you? You good?

Yeah, definitely, definitely avoid doing that, dude. [Newt's mouth twists slightly at that final question though, and it's a sardonic grimace] Is anyone "good" in these places, really?

[ Sans makes the mistake of thinking about that.

About that dusty castle where his skull was always aching, the statues standing in memoriam of every person lost or killed or taken by the Queen, that there were always so many of his brother, and no duplicates of anyone else. Of the air breaking like dark glass, raining ruin and shadow down over Wade's corpse, growing steadily colder against the shattered floor.

Is anyone 'good' in these places?

There's a minute drop of his eyelights. It hangs there for a beat, and then his shoulders and hands both come up, an eye socket shutting. He forces the joke through his perpetually grinning teeth, plastering a punchline over the image sticking to the inside of his skull. ]

What, you don't enjoy your tropical vacation with a side of environmental hazard?

[...shit. That...is not a good reaction. What was he expecting though, really, with a question like that? Newt's mouth twists further, into a full grimace] Nah. Being dragged to another world probably by some sort of powerful being fur funsies or for food really isn't my bag, y'know? [and he's reaching out, moving to place a hand on Sans's shoulder.]

[ Most would look right past a brief pause, a glance down, because if he can crack a bad joke at times like these, then he's fine.

The fact that Newt focuses on all the wrong things is gonna be a Problem.

...Or, that'd be Sans's impression, if what Newt just said didn't resonate with him. Sounds like him from a long time ago, when he thought they still had a fighting chance against forces greater than themselves. Forces that can't be reasoned with. ]

Me neither.

[ He gets the impression Newt already knows that. Or maybe he doesn't, but he gets it, and that's why they were friends. ]

Y'know? I think I see what the other Sans saw in you.

But if you really know me, y'know it's too soon for that, buddy.

[ Despite the chuckle, the good-natured and unbothered sounding joke in his tone, there's a warning there as Sans glances at the approaching hand. ]

[Newt blinks, hand pausing in the air, glancing at his own hand before retracting it, sitting back, looking suddenly uncomfortable. Because that had definitely been a thoughtless motion, and the rejection of it twists in his gut and flickers on his face before he glances away, back down to the supplies that he immediately starts sorting through.]

Ah, yeah...old habits, y'know.

[They die hard.

And it's difficult not to take it personally. This isn't his Sans. It isn't. And he'll have to keep reminding himself of that, no matter how comfortable he gets. Because it's so easy to fall into that recognizable space, like nothing is wrong, like there's no dissonance. But there is, and it shows, now, in the break of comfort. This Sans doesn't know him. Newt is a stranger to this guy.

They aren't friends.

And that, really, is the worst part.

Newt feels something tighten at the back of his throat, and he clears it, willing it down and away. Not incredibly successfully--it still sits, tight, in his chest--but enough that his voice is relatively steady, even if he's gone back to not looking at Sans at all.]

Anyway, hopefully if we get enough people, we can check this place out; make sure there's nothing sitting around waiting to eat us. Then maybe we can get some rest and figure out more details of this specific rat cage sooner rather than later.

[ He's let him down. Sans is good at that -- one of the last things he's good at anymore -- but more than that, he's hurt Newt, and it's easier on Sans if he doesn't notice that. Thing is, he's good at reading people, so right now, it doesn't do him any favors. Hell, at a time when Newt probably needed a friend the most, Sans... well, as usual, he fails to deliver.

Guy like him deserves better friends, anyway.

Something Newt says pulls him right out of his thoughts. Sans looks up at rat cage. ]

Heh. Think someone's out there with a clipboard, judgin' our performance?

[ Bringing a little of Haven with you, huh? Yeah, from what he's heard, the scars guys like him carry with them run pretty damn deep. ]

That'd be pretty sick. Wouldn't put it past anyone to throw us for a loop just to see what happens, though.

[ He's not so sure how he's so sure, but it is what it is. ]

[Newt huffs at that] Yeah, I wouldn't either, honestly. [it's easier to focus on the different subject] Those assholes are always pulling something. The question really is: what is it going to be this time? And how terrible is it? [He sits back again, away from the supplies that he was pretending to sort, and still doesn't look at Sans]

[ The skeleton is silent for a while, until: ]

Guess we'll just hafta wait and see.

[ They have no evidence it will or won't be absolutely terrible, either way, and Sans -- well, if it's all going to go to pot sooner or later, why waste the time they have now with sweating what could happen? Easier to just go with the flow.

Sans starts to heft himself upright, his bag dragging against the floor in a dry rasp as he picks it up. ]

Who knows? Maybe it won't be so bad.

Edited 2017-10-01 12:41 (UTC)

[Newt can't help it--he snorts, but there's a sardonic twist to his mouth]

Yeah, dude. I'm sure whatever creep pulled us from our worlds and shoved us in a new place while taking away our shit this time is completely benign and doesn't want anything at all and nothing is bad is going to happen to us.

[lmao right and he's Richard Nixon.]

Heh.

[ That sounds less like a chuckle and more like a resigned exhale.

Nah, Newt's right. All signs point to a less than benign interference, and if their experiences were any indication, it wasn't in their best interests to blindly hope things would work out fine in the end.

That thought etches into him like weak acid, its weight leaving him feeling worn thin and exhausted. He looks around for something or someone familiar, a distraction or, at least, a reminder of why he bothers. ]

...Probably not. But hey. If we don't hope for somethin', what else have we got?

Who says we don't have hope? [Newt shrugs a shoulder, his mouth setting into a hard line. ] I've been part of taking down one of my seemingly-all-powerful-slash-immortal torturers before; if we need to, we'll figure out how to do it again. Nothing is one hundred percent invulnerable; you just have to figure out what makes them tick.

[ Nothing is one hundred percent invulnerable.

Sans remembers the Queen, horrible and withering in the darkness she clad herself in, that spark of hope and fury that thought, foolishly, that he might (just once) give her a taste of regret for what she had done. The despair when she was scarcely bothered at all.

That's why he leaves that shit to the real heroes. ]

That's fair. Now we just gotta live long enough to see who our captors are.

Ruins Mingle Log!

sup newt

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