Your Perspective

The moment you close the door to Papyrus's house behind you, you can't help but collapse against it, releasing a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding.

That could have gone better, you think with a slight sigh. 'Do you need someone to talk to?' Really?! I hardly even know the guy, and that's what I come up with?!

You put a hand to your face, trying to fend off the blush that you can feel spreading across it. You got carried away, just like always. You don't know what it is about you, but you can't stand seeing other people in such desolate places. Maybe it's because it reminds you too much of those times... those times when...

Stop thinking about it, you tell yourself firmly. That... that happened a long time ago. There's no use dwelling on it. We don't need them—we're getting on fine without them.

You shake your head to clear it and stand up, turning for a moment to glance at the upper windows of the skeleton brothers' Christmassy house. Even if it was a little awkward and over-the-top, you hope your speech did some good.

You could practically feel the depression oozing from that room. And if your experiences are anything to go by, if this Sans person is depressed enough to lock himself in his room... well, he's probably considering radical actions to escape it, just like you did. You can still remember that day, when you'd almost decided that life wasn't worth it anymore. You can still remember the feeling of cold steel in your palm, your hand shaking as you were about to pull the trigger...

"HUMAN!" Papyrus calls, waving to you. "YOU HAVE PERFECT TIMING! FRISK SAYS SHE NEEDS A MODEL FOR HER SNOW SCULPTURE! ...OR, AT LEAST I THINK SHE DID! I CAN'T UNDERSTAND HER VERY WELL."

Frisk and Papyrus are over in a clearing adjacent to the skeleton bros' house, and are busily shaping piles of snow. Well, Papyrus is, at least. Your sister seems to be a bit... uninspired, you guess.

"A model?" you ask.

"MmmHmm," Frisk confirms, running over and taking your hand. She leads you over towards Papyrus and positions you on a very well-shaped pedestal of snow. She looks over you critically and the grabs your arm, carefully placing it on your hip.

"Frisk?" you ask.

"Mmm!" she exclaims. "Don't move!"

She positions your other hand like the first, and then asks you to puff your chest out. You reluctantly agree, feeling rather silly. After a few minor adjustments, Frisk looks you over again and nods, apparently happy with your super-man like pose.

"Stay still!" she commands.

"SO, (Y/N)... HOW DID IT GO?" Papyrus asks while Frisk starts to coat your feet in snow.

"I'm not sure," you sigh, unable to look the skeleton in the eye. "He didn't say anything."

"OH..." Papyrus says quietly. You try to figure out what to say to the skeleton to cheer him up, but nothing comes to mind.

"WELL, WE DON'T NEED HIM!" he exclaims indignantly, non-existent eyebrows somehow lowering over his eye sockets. "FRISK NOW HAS A PERFECTLY GOOD MODEL TO WORK WITH, AND SO DO I!"

"Oh yeah?" you ask, trying to ignore just how cold the snow Frisk's placed against your calves feels.

"YES," he says proudly. "ME!"

He unveils a half-finished snow sculpture of himself that had been previously hidden underneath his scarf.

"W-wow P-Papyrus," you say, teeth starting to chatter. "That's r-really good."

And it really is. It's astounding how much attention to detail he's put into it—it's completely anatomically correct, as if he'd been referring to a health textbook when he made it. He even remembered the empty spaces between his Tibia and Fibula.

"NYEH HEH HEH!" he exclaims. "I KNOW! LET ME TELL YOU HOW THE GREAT PAPYRUS MANAGED SUCH A FEAT. YOU SEE, FIRST I HAD TO GATHER SNOW, AND ONLY THE BEST QUALITY SNOW WOULD DO..."

You tune out of Papyrus's raving to glance over at the house again.

Maybe there was something else I should have said... you think. Or maybe I should've had Frisk says something, and translated for her. Frisk would probably hold more sway over him, since the two of them are friends and all. Or maybe I should've said more about Papyrus. Or maybe...

"Mmm!" Frisk exclaims. Apparently, you'd been so lost in thought that you hadn't noticed her sign at you.

"S-sorry," you tell her. "C-could you repeat that?"

"Pay attention this time!" Frisk exclaims. "Your backpack's getting in the way. Take it off."

You suddenly realize that you can't feel your legs anymore. In the time you'd spaced out, Frisk's managed to coat you all the way up to your waist in snow.

"G-geez, Fr-Frisk," you mutter, sliding off your backpack. "Are you tr-trying to give me fr-frost bite?"

Frisk giggles, but doesn't answer.

"Fr-Frisk," you protest. "I'm Fr-freezing!"

"Just hold on until I'm done, okay?" she asks. "I wanna post a picture of this on the UnderNet."

"...Th-that sounds like a F-Facebook," you say suspiciously. "A-and if it is, I don't want my p-picture on it."

"Come on, Sis," she signs. "Pleeeease?"

You're not entirely sure you want to become immortalized as the human snowman, but your sister is the one person you can't refuse... even if you wanted to. She's giving you the doe eyes. You swear that's why she squints in the first place—to use her cuteness as a weapon when she needs to.

"Y-you sure are st-stubborn," you mutter, giving in.

"No, I'm determined," she signs indignantly. "That's what everyone tells me."

"St-stubborn, d-determined—whatever floats your b-boat," you sigh, flinching when she presses snow against the small of your back. "J-just know that it'll be y-your fault if I turn into a p-popsicle!"

"HUMANS CAN TURN INTO POPSICLES?" Papyrus asks, cocking his head to one side.

"N-no, it's a f-figure of sp-speech," you explain, giggling.

"OH. I SEE," he says slowly. "I SUPPOSE YOU REALLY DO LEARN SOMETHING NEW EVERY DAY."

"Mmm!" Frisk says, waving to get Papyrus's attention.

"WHAT IS IT, FRISK?" Papyrus asks.

"Sis, can you tell Papyrus that—"

"S-sorry, Frisk. Th-the translator's office has been sn-snowed out, and is o-officially closed for the day," you say, pointedly crossing your arms. Petty, you know. But you're not exactly thrilled with your sister at the moment.

"...Meanie," Frisk signs, sticking her tongue out at you. She then starts something akin to a game of charades with Papyrus.

"YOU'RE WALKING... NO, CLIMBING... NO... SASHAYING UP A MOUNTAIN. WHAT? I'M WRONG? BUT YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY..."

A distant door swings closed, diverting your attention from the conversation. A short, vaguely humanoid figure has just exited Papyrus's house, and is slowly making its way over to the three of you. It's too far away for you to make out most of the details, but the figure's bright pink shoes stand out against the snow.

Once it gets closer, you find that it's another skeleton. Seeing as he's the only other skeleton you've seen down here (well, so far, at least), and he's just exited Papyrus's house, you can only assume that this is Sans, Papyrus's brother.

Listening to Papyrus talk about him, you'd immediately assumed that Sans was the older brother. Now that you can actually see him, though, you're not so sure. He's much shorter than Papyrus—maybe even an inch or so shorter than you—and heavy-set in comparison with his tall and lanky brother.

His hands are shoved in the pockets of a very warm looking baby-blue jacket (which you're actually cold enough to be jealous of), and he's wearing a plain white T-shirt underneath it. That seems reasonable enough. When you notice that he's wearing predominantly black, white-striped shorts, and that his shoes are actually slippers, however, you begin starting to question his life decisions. It's freezing out here.

He hesitates for a moment, stealing a glance back the way he came. Papyrus and Frisk still haven't noticed him yet, so this is his last chance to go back. He seems to seriously consider it, even going so far as to take a half-step back towards the house.

I can't let that happen. You take a breath to call out to him, but you release it again as he makes up his mind and slowly saunters over towards the three of you.

He has small white pinpricks in his eye sockets, in the place of pupils. This is a detail that you probably would have missed, had he not been staring at you. The moment he was within speaking distance, he locked eyes with you, and he's since gone completely still. It's hard to tell what he's thinking. He's smiling... but it seems, well... permanent.

I guess that makes sense, you reason. He is a skeleton, after all.

You can't believe you just thought that with a straight face. All this craziness is becoming normal a lot more quickly than you would have thought possible.

After a few moments of tense silence, his smile grows just a little bit, and he turns to look at Frisk, who's still in the midst of a "conversation" with Papyrus.

"Hey kid," he says, taking one hand out of his pocket to point at you decisively with a thumb. "That's pretty good—looks almost lifelike."

Wow. I... I actually have no idea whether or not he's joking.

Instead of replying, Frisk squeals and runs over to the skeleton, practically tackling him with a hug. Papyrus isn't far behind.

"GROUP HUG!" he exclaims, effortlessly lifting the both of them off their feet as he squeezes the living daylights out of them. You can't help but laugh at the sight of it. Sans glances over at you, and you swear you see a faint tinge of blue enter his cheekbones.

"Hey, Pap? The kid can't breathe," he mutters, purposely avoiding your gaze.

"OH!" Papyrus exclaims, putting both of them down. "MY APOLOGIES, FRISK. I FORGOT HOW FRAGILE HUMANS CAN BE."

Your sister looks a little confused, but doesn't question it.

"ANYWAY, NOW THAT YOU'VE FINALLY JOINED US, I CAN FINALLY INTRODUCE YOU TO MY NEW FRIEND, (Y/N)! SHE'S THE HUMAN'S SISTER," Papyrus pronounces, pointing to you.

"Is she now," Sans says. "I thought she was an ice sculpture."

"NO, SHE IS MOST DEFINITELY HUMAN," Papyrus says.

"Heh. Well, either way..." Sans' smile suddenly seems incredibly genuine. "That's pretty... cool... wouldn't you say?"

Oooh boy, you think. Frisk wasn't kidding about the puns.

"YES, IT MOST CERTAINLY IS. WELL, NOT AS COOL AS THE GREAT PAPYRUS, BUT..." Papyrus trails off, before giving Sans a look. "SANS...!"

"Oh, come on Paps, that was good," he says. "You could even say—"

"SANS, DON'T YOU DARE!"

"—that it was pretty... humerous."

"OH MY GOD, SANS," he moans. "WHY?!"

Papyrus may not appreciate it, but Frisk is in stitches—her wildly shaking shoulders show as much. And, if you're being honest, you're trying your best to hold back a snort.

"Heh. See? The kid thought it was funny," Sans says.

As Frisk's silent laughter starts to die down, so does Sans' 'humerous' attitude. His permanently fixed smile drops just a little bit at the edges, and he suddenly becomes very interested in his slippers.

"Hey, uh... kid?" he asks, stealing a quick glance in your direction. "I... I need to borrow your sister for a minute."

Yet Another Author's Note

For those of you who may think that things are moving a little slowly, I apologize for that. I'm a novelist at heart, and it's just my basic instinct to give my story a good (*snort*) backbone. ...Ahem.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that it will pick up the pace eventually. I've got a whole plotline written out for this thing, and it's got a lot of potential... if I set up a good base enough for it.

Oh, and I'm really starting to like adding Author notes to these things. So, uh... that might just become a thing, having author notes at the end of every chapter.

--Zana