solnet | [video] (It's long. Sorry.)

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[video] (It's long. Sorry.)

[ A handheld camera -- quite likely Wade’s smartphone -- ‘pans’ over the gleaming exterior of a convertible. How a car managed to get here is anyone’s guess, but anyone guessing a being like Ozuma may or may not have been involved would probably be close. With its bright red paint shining in the cold winter unlight, the sight of a convertible with its top down might be alien, surreal, or even nostalgic. ]

[ Either way, whoever’s holding the phone seems to understand that such a wondrous sight deserves a proper tribute-- namely, draping yourself seductively on the hood and taking a goofy pin-up video. Which apparently is exactly what Wade has decided to do. From his position on the hood, the viewers can spot someone tucked across the back seats of the car, an almost shapeless mass of voluminous galaxy-print hoodie, t-shirt (this one is blank, save for the faded and occasional condiment stain), track shorts and shabby once-pink slippers. ]

[ Sans appears to be reclining here, sprinkling ash from the end of a cigarette all over himself and the back seat. As he lifts his skull at Wade’s arrival, he quirks a supraorbital ridge at the phone in his hand but his grin doesn’t change. Somehow, being a skeleton with no respiratory system to speak of doesn’t stop him from seemingly exhaling a stream of smoke into the air.

Smoking in the back seat of a new car? Well, it ain’t like its intended recipient is ever gonna enjoy it. ]

sup, you tryin’ out for america’s funniest home videos?

Heh. More like Ripley’s Believe It or Not. You probably can’t tell from where you’re sittin’ but I’m makin’ the most righteous duck-face right now. Oh, yeah-- Cryptkeeper, eat yer heart out. What’s with the sudden wheels, bee-tee-dubs? You suddenly win the lottery or kill a hooker or somethin’?

or somethin’. ...you like it? [ Sans eases upright like it’s the hardest thing he’s had to do all day, but pats the seat with one skeletal hand as he tucks the filter of the cigarette against his grin again. How he does that is a mystery. And given the way he always smells like, uh, greasy burgers or hot dogs and usually ketchup, he ain’t a habitual smoker, either. ] took every last G i had. it’s for Papyrus.

Aww… no kiddin’? [Wade turns away from the phone screen to look at Sans directly. He recognizes that smile-- the smile of someone who would move mountains for his beloved family member. It’s pretty cute, the lengths Sans is willing to go for his brother. ] Quite the expensive Christmas present. I’m guessin’ he’s a huge car buff then, huh? Want me to videotape his reaction when he sees this thing? Could make for some entertaining cinema. I’m imaginin’ something like the Nintendo 64 kid. [A chuckle.]

yeah, ‘bout that… [ Rasping a hand over the crown of his skull, Sans swings his eye lights over the car itself. ] couldn’t wait ‘til christmas, so i went lookin’ for him.

but, hey-- [ The skeleton hunches up his shoulders in a shrug, grinning at Wade. Casually, he passes that partially-consumed cigarette to Wade, like it’s nothing, or normal, or something. ] --turns out there’s no place like home for the holidays. [ That’s when Sans glances again at the phone. That’s, uh, that’s not the setting for taking pictures. He might actually have to do something about that. ]

[Wade’s not a smoker either, barring a brief stint in his teenage years when he wanted to be more like James Dean. Still, when your best bro casually offers you a cigarette, you don’t really say no to that. It’s not like he could get cancer again, anyway. Wade’s in the midst of plucking the cigarette from Sans’s phalanges when the bombshell he’s dropped so nonchalantly registers in his brain. He stops, cigarette held expertly between two fingers as if he’d been smoking for thirty years rather than thirty days, and looks over the windshield at his companion.]

Dude… [He stops; runs a hand over his head and tries again.] I mean-- shit, man. You okay? [Wade lowers the phone, only just now realizing that the recording light is blinking, and hastily turns it off.]

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[...She's making a sour expression for no reason. Not wanting to sour the good time they should be having she shakes it off, shrugging amiably with a smile.]

Anyways, I didn't get far checking it out. There wasn't much out that way but bats to stop me, but I was getting over being sick. By the time I reached the waterfall I already felt winded, so I turned back around.

[Getting impatient to see his reaction now, when Sans doesn't immediately take the s'more, she shoves it at him with more emphasis. Take it, you lump of weird smells and bones.]

[ She pauses, troubled, and Sans pauses short of actually taking the s'more; if he's troubled by her moment of frowning thoughtfulness, his grin confesses little. She pushes it forward, and this time, he takes it.

There's a pretense of looking over the treat, at least until her attention might wander for a second, long enough to take a bite without putting her off her appetite--

It's...

Sans's HP was maxed out. Wait... ]

Uh. [ That's actually a quiet, surprised note, not a pause. ] Hey, now there's a taste of Home, heh heh. Where'd you get ingredients from my neck of the multiverse? Call in a favor on Ozzy?

Nope!

[She sounds delighted, clapping her hands. Gripping the armrest, she leans partway out of her seat.]

So? So? Is it good? This was my first time making monster food, and it took me most of the day, but I had fun making it. Still, that's worthless without a boneafide seal of approval.

[ The look Sans gives her -- ignoring the ever-present grin, that is -- invokes an incredulousness that is little-seen in the skeletal monster. His silence might end up getting a little insulting, but nothing beats his rumbled note of impressed wonder: ]

You made this, huh?

[ Like that's a surprise. Like that's some kind of miracle. One eye socket shuts in a wink, and he reaches for the bag of broken pieces of chocolate.

Stop him (again) before he pops that into his mouth.

Smells like nostalgia. ]

Not bad. You're a regular monster maitre'd.

[ He totally butchered that pronunciation, by the way. ]

[The silence does drag, if only because she can't tell what's really going through his head. It's hard to get a read on someone who doesn't have a face. Good situation or bad situation, that's always a little vexing, but as they say: patience is a virtue.

A lady of her station should embody such traits, or something like that. Classy as hell, the Tohsaka heir can manage this.

Sincerely, it's worth it when he finally pipes up. His words carry a sentiment unusual to him, something beyond joking or dull interest. It's more reverent than she expected. Maybe not as joyful as she would have hoped? But it's real and honestly felt, and that's among the finest of rewards Rin could have asked for in the end.]

That's right, I did.

[She looks tickled pink as she leans back into her seat, content and making no move to stop him from just picking through the goodies. She reaches for her own s'more that was set aside, finally able to take a bite from it.]

It's for you, so you can eat it however you like now, even if it makes you look like a hobo.

[She swirls a finger in the air.] Although if you could be compelled to make at least one more s'more properly before the night is done, who knows? Maybe I could be convinced to make something else for you again.

[ He's carrying around an amulet that supposedly could give him a face, but it was an undelivered gift meant for another monster. A monster he vaguely recalls terrorizing them, back home, in fits and stutters of mostly-forgotten memories. Timelines that didn't pan out. A monster he pretty much inactively loathes. Can't remember why he'd ever reconsider offering it to him, considerin' their history.

Eh.

Guess they're all stuck with the skull. Yeah, Sans ain't a big fan of what he sees in the mirror, either, but if he's gotta live with it, so does everybody else. In the meantime, Sans has demolished a cracker, dusting his shirt with crumbs, but what Rin says has the moderating effect she intends; he passes back the bag (and does nothing about the mess). ]

Bribery, huh..? [ Sans doesn't bother pretending to consider the offer, he just picks up his marshmallow fork and prepares to replenish its supply of toasted marshmallow. ] I'll take it. Ain't half bad at this makin' monster food stuff, pal. But how are you at burgers?

[ Sans, consider your health. ]

Edited 2017-02-01 09:34 (UTC)

[Yes, this is good. On the scoreboard of victories in her mind, that's another tallymark under her name. Sans's name on the empty side of the scoreboard is just a placeholder, of course, in lieu of not having any other name to give the sad elephant in the room. For the skeleton himself, her win is his win the way she sees it, so it balances out.

Crumbs dance to the floor as she takes a bite from her s'more, a smidge of gooey chocolate sticking to the corner of her mouth. Scrubbing it away with the back of her thumb, she covers her mouth in an attempt at manners as she chews around her food.]

What sort of burgers? An actually decent hamburger, or the greasy fast food junk?

You say that like greasy fast food and decent burgers can't go hand in hand.

[ Did she ever see that table piled high after the food shortage ended, full of foil-wrapped greaseball burgers? Wade and Sans sat there tucking in until they felt sick, and it was magnificent. Of course, they'd been kinda starving -- in Wade's case, literally wasting away -- but still. His garbage habit shows no sign of stopping. ]

Though uh, I remember this one time Sanji whipped somethin' up.

[ He twitches the fork away from the fire before he ends up over-toasting his marshmallows. ]

Kills me to say it, but, uh, best burger I ever had. Guy had a magic touch in the kitchen.

[She did not, in fact. After her larynx had nearly been crushed by Tim's alter ego, Rin had holed herself up in her room until her Magic Crest could heal the ring of bruises around her throat and her speech returned. She'd had Masaomi bring her all of her meals in the meantime.

Well, other than that night she'd lost track of time, and he'd already gone to bed before she could ask him to fetch her dinner. She'd snuck out to the kitchen then with a scarf around her neck, only to fail to steal anything from under the nose of — you guessed it — Sanji.

Bathed in a flickering orange glow, Rin's face softens into something wistful as Sans praises the chef's skills.]

He really does. [...] I wasn't going to mention it, but he's the only reason I was able to figure out how to do this, you know?

[Finishing the remaining bits of her s'more, she reaches for a marshmallow.]

There was this soup recipe he and I worked to perfect together. Like it wasn't already mouthwatering delicious, but Sanji wanted a miracle soup.

[She rolls her eyes fondly at this. Sanji had given her a bowl of that exact soup the night he caught her trying to steal from the kitchen, hoping it'd heal her throat.]

Anyways, when we were stumped on the last step to the puzzle, he came in one night and said he had an idea! It was based off something he picked up learning how to make monster food for you, apparently.

[Rin smirks at him over her marshmallow fork.]

If he was as particular about that burger as he was the soup, I bet it was the kind of burger you'd find in a five-star restaurant.

Miracle soup? Heh. He can be a real sap when you ain't expecting it.

[ Sounds like the sorta stuff you bring to an ailing friend. Big ol' softie under that bristling, irascible exterior, Sans thinks, and not without a small tickle of fondness. He never really... kept in touch, and for that, Sans really has no excuse. It ain't like he's busy doing anything worth talkin' about, right? ]

So he taught you that trick.

[ One socket closes, as he fishes out a graham cracker and piece of chocolate from each bag. ]

Nice. Uh, so how's he do it? Never could figure it out how a guy without magic pulled that off.

It's not as easy as it sounds! He never actually showed me, exactly — only the technique he came up with for the soup based on it. I had to reverse engineer it from that. But based on his notes, I think it was...

[And insert here some lengthy babble about Sanji's notes and her theories for how he did it, as well as her own application of it. Which. Mostly follows that theory, other than some notes she couldn't puzzle out experimented with, utilizing magic-science theory to fill in the gaps.

Be glad you don't have ears, Sans, she'd talk them off.]

[ In this time, Sans has accomplished... not much.

Assembling his s'more, anyway, not to mention eating it, leaning back in his chair as he savors the warm glow of the fire and the way magically-imbued comfort food does just what it says. It's... comfortable.

What a nerd, Sans thinks, not without fondness. ]

[ And she keeps going. Turns out, this is a more complex process than he thought, but she obviously feels passionately about the subject, bein'... a mage and all, he guesses.

Sans listens, gazing indolently at the fire, resting his phalanges over the impossible illusion of girth that layers of clothes offer. ]

[ Uh... next time Rin looks, she might discover that Sans has literally fallen asleep in the middle of her discussion on magical-scientific theory. ]

[OKAY, SO THIS LAST STEP WAS THE REALLY COOL THING SANS, GET A LOAD OF THIS— Wait, wait, is he even listening anymore?]

...And then I realized the key ingredient was an infusion of uranium and nutmeg that I could only acquire by slaying an elder god, so I had to sacrifice my roommate in a ritual to summon him, of course.

[SNORE. Yup, that and the floating Z's over his head (what is this, a cartoon?) would be a no.]

[Jerk. But fine then, Rin knows just to thing to wake him up. Since intellectual conversation bored him to sleep, there's really only one option to engage him:

She presses her palms to her mouth and blows, producing a juicy and particularly loud farting noise.]

[ That wet, flatulent ppbbbrrraaap! sure does the trick; Sans's skull snaps up in the closest thing he gets to a real, genuine start. ]

Zz-uh?

[ One stunned period of silence stretches out over a span of tense seconds -- and then Sans crumples. It starts with the eye sockets, they sort of... crinkle a little, mirth making his eye lights bright, and then he's doubling over in his chair, shoulders shaking with the high, breathless tumble of laughter that sounds like it's been surprised right out of him.

He holds up a shaky phalanx. Give him a sec.

Pretending to wipe away a nonexistent tear, he finally looks over at her. ]

Holy moly, I can't even take credit for that. You dropped the class act all on your own.

I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. [She says, turning her chin up high and haughty. It's ruined somewhat by the fact she looks entirely too satisfied with herself.]

But if I did — and that's an if! — I'd say it was worth it. For a guy who's so into bad jokes, you don't laugh a lot. I think that's but the second time I've heard a good one like that out of you.

[Ew she got spit on her hand. Well. She's going to try to wipe that off on her sleeve discreetly and spear another pair of marshmallows onto her fork!]

[ For a moment, Sans looks a little happy, with eyelights bright and sharp and attentive, the carriage of his shoulders somewhat relieved of the weight that usually slants them. Laughter, as their mutual acquaintance says, is good anesthetic.

Except Rin points out the infrequency of it, draws attention to it, and Sans reminds himself of how little he deserves this when he's let down his brother over, and over, and over, until the Queen's amassed her own collection. And, uh, he doesn't really want to disappoint Rin on top of it all, so he keeps all of that to himself, makes the weight pressing him into the chair look like he's just relaxing after a good laugh.

Sans sets his own marshmallow fork to the side, lacing his phalanges over his absence of a stomach in a show of contentedness. ]

Heh heh. You got me pretty good. Nice job, pal.

[ And for a want of changing the subject as quickly as possible: ] Guess I better step up my payback game for next time.

[...he's better at hiding it than Shirou is, with a perpetual grin in place of a mouth that only rarely seems to turn up at the corners. Still, it's perhaps because she met that boy that she can grasp the moment Sans commits the same sin: right on the cusp of enjoying himself and being happy, he pulls back.

It's heart-wrenching in a way that pisses her off. After everything she's learned about Shirou, knowing Archer's life story, you'd think she'd be more sympathetic to this kind of tragedy now.

Maybe in some ways she is. She won't take the blame for how hollow that little heh heh sounds now, but that was stupid of her. She shouldn't have called attention to it.]

For what? [She tuts amiably, holding her marshmallows aloft over the flame. Two can play at this acting game.] That was my payback for you sleeping through my explanation, like a big old jerk. We're even now.

Guilty as charged.

[ He tips his skull slightly to one side, lifting a few phalanges from where he's resting them across his absence of a stomach. Sans cracks open one eye socket to add: ]

But, y'know, a prank war sounds a helluva lot better than the one we're in.

[ They can both pretend. Maintain the comfortable atmosphere, bathed in the gold-red light of a warm fire, like good friends with some good food, some bad laughs.

It's better than being alone with their thoughts and the absence yawning around them in this place, the empty spaces they can't name. ]

I'll give you a hint. Y'know, a freebie. Better sleep with one eye open on Pranksgiving.

[A prank war does sound better than the one they're in. But you know what sounds even better than that? Option #3, where she goes home to that other war she spent her whole life preparing for.

The corners of her mouth quirk up, instead of down. Anytime now. I'm getting rusty here.]

Pranksgiving?

[The word rolls on her tongue, like someone trying to determine the taste of an unfamiliar dish. She takes her eyes off the fire to glance over to him again, bright-eyed.]

That sounds made up.

Yeah? You guys like to call it 'April Fools', still the same thing. Heh heh, heck--

[ He rolls his skull against his shoulder as he angles to look at Rin, grinning in lazy contentment. ]

Should'a seen all the pranks we set up last year. Practically spent all night on it, me and--

[ And.

And someone. Someone with sticky tape on their fingers. Someone who laughed at a table along with Zuko's baffled stare and music playing, again and again, locked on repeat. Someone he remembers sitting on the counter in the kitchen, both of them wrung out and silent. On a bridge bathed in golden light.

Static white noise where their face should be in his memory, strings of data unraveling into black. A smudge of soot where something used to be, no longer human again.

That sounds made up, Rin said.

He didn't make it up. He didn't make them up.

Did he? ]

...

[ He seems to have lost his train of thought, as he turns his skull away and sits there and doesn't think about this anymore. ]

Oof, guess I'm more tired than I thought. Thinkin' I might call it quits today.

[video] (It's long. Sorry.)

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LMFAOOOO HOW ARE YOU SO PERFECT 1/??

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/BOWS. I'M ONLY WORKING OFF YOUR PERFECT SETUPS. 1/2

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1/2 LOSING MY SHIT

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