[Rin might have made a rude gesture at Sans's back as he left, a motion she quickly regretted when her Ralts, with his synchronize ability, mimicked. Whoops. Luckily Ralts don't have fingers, and she assures himself he'll forget it anyways.
Climbing into bed was like falling out of one, the moment her head hit the pillow. That sensation that's becoming all too familiar, of being swept up by a stranger's memory.
She's never been lost in someone else's thoughts before. What a strange feeling, over something so small.
He dwells on it for what feels so long, Rin starts to feel uncomfortable; for the weight of the disappointment she feels from him, in the phrase "dad", and for the look on his brother's (smaller and younger, so was this before?) face that only grows more confused and wounded by the second. The silent response to his explanation (where'd you hear that?) only provokes more questions, one after the other.
It's not her fault that expression is there, that's Sans's. Why should she feel guilty if he makes his brother cry over such a stupid thing?
Because he doesn't want him to at all (and so she doesn't either); because he makes the situation worse only because he's trying to think of a way to make it better. To spare his brother that bitter hurt in his own chest. There's something undeniably sweet in that, just as there is in his reaction to Papyrus's final question.
This feeling she feels through Sans, like they're in love with everything about him, every fraction of his soul, and they'd give an arm and leg to keep him smiling. They look at him with so much affection, Rin feels it in his chest; in his hands on small shoulders, in the laughter and ever-present smile.
Rin never knew it was possible, to care about someone so deeply. To love with all of your heart, or just the phantom of one.
("I tell a mean bedtime story. I mean mean like heart-warming tales of the adventures of fluffy woodland creatures.")
He really does. Papyrus never doubts, looking so happy and relieved as she lies through Sans's mouth like a pro. His story is told so well that by the time he finishes and the feeling of a long-held embrace passes, when Rin looks up at the ceiling above her head, she thinks she can see stars there.
By the time Sans steps back in, she hasn't changed positions from that: face tilted towards the ceiling, and one wrist over her brow. It makes it hard to tell if she's still awake or not, though she gives no reaction to his presence returning.]
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Climbing into bed was like falling out of one, the moment her head hit the pillow. That sensation that's becoming all too familiar, of being swept up by a stranger's memory.
She's never been lost in someone else's thoughts before. What a strange feeling, over something so small.
He dwells on it for what feels so long, Rin starts to feel uncomfortable; for the weight of the disappointment she feels from him, in the phrase "dad", and for the look on his brother's (smaller and younger, so was this before?) face that only grows more confused and wounded by the second. The silent response to his explanation (where'd you hear that?) only provokes more questions, one after the other.
It's not her fault that expression is there, that's Sans's. Why should she feel guilty if he makes his brother cry over such a stupid thing?
Because he doesn't want him to at all (and so she doesn't either); because he makes the situation worse only because he's trying to think of a way to make it better. To spare his brother that bitter hurt in his own chest. There's something undeniably sweet in that, just as there is in his reaction to Papyrus's final question.
This feeling she feels through Sans, like they're in love with everything about him, every fraction of his soul, and they'd give an arm and leg to keep him smiling. They look at him with so much affection, Rin feels it in his chest; in his hands on small shoulders, in the laughter and ever-present smile.
Rin never knew it was possible, to care about someone so deeply. To love with all of your heart, or just the phantom of one.
("I tell a mean bedtime story. I mean mean like heart-warming tales of the adventures of fluffy woodland creatures.")
He really does. Papyrus never doubts, looking so happy and relieved as she lies through Sans's mouth like a pro. His story is told so well that by the time he finishes and the feeling of a long-held embrace passes, when Rin looks up at the ceiling above her head, she thinks she can see stars there.
By the time Sans steps back in, she hasn't changed positions from that: face tilted towards the ceiling, and one wrist over her brow. It makes it hard to tell if she's still awake or not, though she gives no reaction to his presence returning.]