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Blue wasn't supposed to know, that much was obvious. At first it was something he simply passed off, different colored scarfs, scars crawling around like they were caterpillars instead of permanent marks. The first time he really noticed was when he stopped caring about papyrus. Blue wanted to, oh did he want to care, that was his brother. Yet. Looking at their shared craft brought no joy, no inner feeling of love.
He could not bring himself to care when he came across an old craft they had started together. A half finished weave for a pot holder. Blue wanted to pretend he knew what exactly happened, why exactly it was half finished but his memories were blurry. Everything before joining the stars was.
Blue could recall how he never touched it because he was waiting for Stretch to come back and finish it. It had a beautiful pattern started, white alternating with pastel colors. He knows it took weeks for Papyrus to get as far as he did even with Blues help.
When he went to move it, the weave slowly fell off the loom, but he couldn't bring himself to care. If Blue paid any attention to what his hands were doing he would have noticed that he was the one undoing it. Yet, his hands moved like something possessed, leaving the skeleton unaware. A migraine hit him full force suddenly, his hands unclenching. Loom dropping with enough force to crack it.
Maybe, maybe his hands slammed it down instead of just dropping it, not that it matters. Blue moved his now empty hands to hold the sides of his skull for any relief from the pain. Feet moving to crush what was left. His magic sparked with upset, eyes flickering. The ache began to fade as suddenly as it began, so he blinked and looked around. The floor is covered in wood shards and forgotten string.
He needed to clean, clean up, clean something. Blue blinks, he should sweep.
Hands shaking, he stumbles over to the broom. He's always had one in his room, the messy skeleton that he is. Even if he can't remember where the mess came from in the first place. Blue grabs the broom and starts collecting everything into a small pile. Each wooden chunk he sweeps up corresponds with a pulse of pain. Still, it is his mess and no one else will clean it for him so he continues.
Eventually each broken piece makes it to the trash, hands dripping with blood from splinters and something more. He moves to put the broom up, mind glancing over the bloody hand prints covering it, and the barbed wire.
A timer rings, and something lights up with recognition. ah yes shower time.
He gathers his clothes and makes his way to his own private bathroom. The lock on the outside of the door is normal. He unlocks the door, and steps inside.
The bathroom is rather clean, and constantly smells slightly of bleach and something metallic. Showering after a long day of work was the best way to rewind in his professional opinion. Turning the water to hot after he sets his clothes on the closed toilet seat. He sticks a hand underneath, making sure it would actually get up to temperature, less he would have to shower in ice cold water again. Warm water cascading over sore, bloody bones. It is still cold so he steps away and towards the sink. He might as well brush his teeth.
It was when he finally looked up he noticed something was off.
The mirror showed a young skeleton, eyelights circles within circles, normal. What wasn't normal was the lack of a rather noticeable crack that used to run from the top of his face to the bottom of his left socket. That wound would never heal, Killer assured that when he stuck his knife into Blue’s skull.
His breathing stutters. A clawed hand reaches up to trace around the edge of his socket. He could still feel the faint wisps of pain but there was no wound. No noticeable groove, much less any discoloration. That scar had been deep enough to break up the foundation of his eyelight, Blue himself had confirmed that it would never completely heal. Where did the scar go?
He hurriedly pulled his shirt off, looking over his ribs with a disconcerted frenzy. His ribs should look like ruined china. He had gotten caught by Nightmares tendrils more than a few times. Leaving the bones crushed, and him barely clinging on to life. The water in the shower adds a backdrop as Blues fingers trace over nonexistence scars, running over his pristine bones. No scratch or bump.
He turns, looking over his shoulder to admire his spine. His memories tell him that it should almost be unrecognizable as the bones it was originally. It had been severed more than once by the gang. Crushed under rocks and rubble from falling buildings. Clawed at by frantic citizens too far gone to recognize he was there to help them. There was no way, this was not his body.
He whispered denials but his spine didn't answer. Blue shifts, tilting this way and that, watching it bend. He could feel his breathing get out of control, see his ribs shift with his crazed breathing. Rattling gasps rapidly fill the room. Slowly, ever so slowly he moved his hands and checked his wrists. Nothing. His body was lacking damage in any shape or form. He stumbled backwards and tripped over the tub, falling hard into unforgiving porcelain.
He felt as the back of his skull cracked, but his brain wouldn't process it. Dream nor Ink had ever actually healed him, he realized. He. He had never been healed in his life unless his brother had helped him when he was younger. He couldn't remember.
Something warm dripped down his neck, and his pants were soaked in lukewarm water.
He shook. Keep moving, that's all he had to do. He heaved himself upwards and removed the rest of his clothes. Letting them splat against the tile as he caught his breath. He grabbed the soap and got to work cleaning himself up. Answers. He wanted, no, needed answers. Blood flaked off of his neck as he repeatedly scrubbed. He wasn't hurt so it wasn't blood that was being removed.
And he left it at that.
-
It took him a bit to finish up, putting his dirty clothes in the hamper. His bandana was completely ruined, caked in something that wasn't blood. Blue turns the sink on and puts his bandana in to soak. Gripping around the barbed wire wrapped around the doorhandle he leaves the room.
Toweling off the top of his skull and letting it rest around his neck he grabs a small note book. Scribbling out a list of every inconsistency, clothes, height, scars. Did he even have a brother? His eyes lit up with hope as his list filled out. He would be able to get at least one answer from it.
The pen he grabbed broke in his tight hold, spilling ink on his hands and on the corner of his paper.
“Blue! Time to go!” And the light went dim.
Blue blinked, looking at the paper below him. A list of some sort. Interesting.
“BLUE!”
He sighed and reached for a box filled with extra bandanas, some covered in a fine off-white powder. He grabs the top one and tosses the towel into the hamper. The bandana is quickly wrapped and tied around his neck. He rips the note out of the small book and tucks it into his bandana. He would read it later. Slipping on the rest of his armor, Blue reaches for the door knob.
-
Fighting was one of Blues favorite past times. As much as beating a bunch of copies of yourself could be. Huffing as he takes a rough hit to the ribs, he quickly summons his Hammer to beat Killer back. He could see Ink battling Dust in the distance, and Dreams arrows occasionally zip past, hitting each of Nightmare’s attacks before he can hit any of the members of the stars.
“Nice bandana, Berry boy,” Killer said, spinning his knife in his hand. This happened on occasion. Killer loved to talk about everything and anything, though most of the time it was snide remarks.
Using the small break to catch his breath, Blue looked up to Killer's empty sockets. They had both migrated away from the main group, Horror and Cross were hidden in the forest somewhere. They were probably finishing whatever Nightmare sent them to do.
A cage of bones flew out of the forest from behind, catching his shirt and pinning him to a tree with a thump. Blue wasn't expecting it, and therefore didn't dodge.
“No words for me, not even a whimper? Awh I'm hurt Swappy” gesturing dramatically with his knife, Killer strutted forward. Laying a single hand on Blues shoulder. He hoped Killer couldn't feel him flinch.
“Your little wittle ban ban get damaged? You have a new one rather often.” Blue froze, feeling Killer's fingers trace around his neck. The likelihood of Killer actually dusting him was low, but never zero. One never wanted the enemy's hand around their neck. Blue felt his breath catch, shallowing like playing dead would work. He decided to stay silent, giving Killer more information never worked out.
“Staying silent huh?” the hand around his neck reached down into the bandana and pulled out the papers that Blue had forgotten about. He stopped breathing, stopped being aware. That paper was his, he didn't understand what it meant or if it even was for him, but it was his to protect.
“Stop.” quiet, but it was loud enough in the small clearing where even the trees sung silence. Killer only sped up, unfolding the paper and bringing it up to his face to read. Blue could feel his lights fade out, leaving him a mimic of Killers iconic look.
The world seemed to go still. He watched as the note was held tight enough to crumble it. Knowledge gone under unforgiving strength. Killer's face was unbelievably blank, tears of hate dripping at a melodic speed. Blue watched as the note was tucked away, into a side pocket on Killers bloody jacket. The attacks holding him to the tree disintegrated, letting Blue fall onto his feet. He steadies himself, ready for knives and bones to go flying.
Killer stumbles, his stance dropping into something animalistic as his soul spins with a sort of electric anger. Blue watches with a sharp eye, not about to let himself be taken by surprise again. When Killer takes a step back, almost on all fours.
Blue knows he's somehow won. Watching Killer flee, though. It feels like someone else lost.
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
Growling isn't uncommon when it comes to Nightmares men. So when he feels Killers burning fear and bitter anger, not in stage two, sprinting forwards like someone set him on fire. Night prepares for an abnormal amount of animalistic noises and perhaps a bite or two. Ordering Killer to fight Swap wasn't something he did often and clearly with the way Killer was approaching, He saw something he didn't like.
As much as Nightmare enjoyed the different flavors of negative emotion, getting them from his gang always tasted rather rotten. As such Nightmare decided he needed to end this concoction as quickly as possible, and when you're the guardian of Negativity, he can end it rather fast.
Batting Dream back a few steps he takes that time to melt into the shadows. Zooming towards the beacon that represents Killer in his incorporeal form, he takes a second to wonder what exactly Swap did. It doesn't take a lot to force Killer to swap stages, no pun intended, he is not a lesser Sans like the rest of his crew. Yet still, Killer prefers to keep the entire soul stage thing under wraps.
Sighing as much as a corrupted creature without lungs can, he reappeared in front of Killer. The body of the feral thing almost shoots past him if not for the tendrils catching and wrapping around Killer’s leg, pulling him towards Nightmare. The animal that Killer is in stage four whines and wriggles in his grasp. It starts squeaking out something before it notices that its master is the one who confines it. One of its hands reaches up, holding a note covered in liquid hate and ink.
Nightmare takes the note and reads it over, the writing chaotic and liquid hate covering some words.
Very, very interesting.
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
Blues neck ached a little as he made his way over to where Dream stood, phantom hands still trying to choke him out. Approaching, Dream's golden aura hit him full force, making him pause to hold back his tears of happiness. Dream didn't say anything to him, didn't even glance, scanning the surrounding forest for any danger or attack. A ripple of distinct negativity told of Nightmares retreat. Only then did Dream acknowledge him.
“Blue, how do you fair?” Dream’s soft voice flowed over him, like pure positivity. He could almost feel it dripping through his ribs to wrap around his soul.
Blue blinked, thoughts moving slow, redirected to flow though a narrow channel “I'm alright Dream I fought Killer off quite easily, a simple task for the Magnificent Swap”
Dream almost seemed to flinch, moving to hold himself in a tight hug, “That is not your Name”
Blue stopped his posing in confusion, having jumped into one when declaring himself the Magnificent Blue, “What are you talking about? Blue is my name.” He took a second to look over Dream. Noting the way he seemed to curl in on himself.
Dream looking so small broke Swaps Blues soul. He pulled the immortal skeleton into his arms, holding him tight and snug. Ink suddenly opened a portal behind Dream, prompting Blue to scoop Dream up and hop in. Falling into the main room, Blue could feel a spot in his shirt dampening as his golden friend's shoulders shook with silent cries. He leaned back, letting Dream soak up all the comfort he needed. Ink appeared with a deep blue blanket and wrapped both of them in it.
“What have you been up to Blue?” A yellow star and a green triangle looked at him with open curiosity. Ink had never bothered to hide his soullessness from Blue. Choosing to keep most secrets open and well known. Ink was rather understanding in the long run, but that didn't mean he was perfect. Blue watched Ink thumb over his vials before pausing over a new color that Blue had never seen before.
“Ive been cleaning up my room,” he adjusted his hold on Dream who had seemingly fell asleep in his arms, “What have you been doing Ink?”
Ink wandered a bit away to find a cup, "I've been helping a creator make this really unique AU! It has a character who gets reverted to his past self and the knights, the character is a king by the way, have to decide if they will stay or go!” Blue hummed, letting Inks rambles wash over him. Looking over the walls, and shelfs. There was a spool of barbed wire in the corner which Blue assumed Ink was using for one project or another. A candle was lit in front of an empty picture frame, a blue ribbon tied around it. Ink continued talking, mixing something in the cup he had grabbed.
Dream shifted and Blue moved to accommodate. Hand absentmindedly rubbing his back. Blue admired his other hand, looking for any reason Killer would have fled so easily. It had to be something to do with his hand, he reached up to grab something and Killer fled. Killer could have easily ended him just then, but he didn't. Leaving Blue to live. Why?
Ink handed him a cup suddenly, the liquid inside glowing a vibrant gold with flashes of pure black appearing from underneath.
“Um, Ink, What is this?” Blue could faintly see his reflection in the cup, his circles within circles swirling into a sort of spiral like shape.
“DRINK”
There isn't an answer but his hand brings the cup up to his mouth. He tries to stop himself. Letting go of Dream to use his other hand to try and remove the cup, but Dream is suddenly awake, holding his hand in a vice grip. Dreams lights blur slightly with tears but he doesn't say anything, letting Blue drink the concoction. It tastes horribly metallic, with pure joy and bitter ink on the side. He wants to stop, to spit out the disgusting drink but his body will not move. His vision flickers, removing the metaphorical blindfold that covered his eyes, letting him see the crawling scars that cover his entire body. It looks like tons of skeletons were shoved together to make a disgusting mod-podge creation.
His hands looked like shattered glass, reflecting the gold that now surrounded his eyes. It looked like he had the sea trapped within his skull, gold glinting like the sun on an ocean of black. His lights were barely recognized as blue anymore, taken over by the magic of his best friends.
He couldn't speak but still he dragged his lights up to stare at Ink and Dream, Inks hand kept hovering over his blue vial but he moved his hand away to consider his yellow one. Dream continues to cry, his hand reaching out to hold Blues.
“Shhh friend, worry not.” His vision was starting to go out, Blue getting increasingly dizzy. He knew Dream was holding his hand yet he could not feel it. Blue tried to communicate with his faint lights. Why, why would they do this to him?
His magic flickers out and he becomes unaware. The last thing he feels is cold ink, and bright joy smothering his soul.