middaeg | RUE YOUR LONG SLUMBER (open)

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RUE YOUR LONG SLUMBER (open)

Who: Papyrus - and YOU
When: Octeuril, after the full moon
Where: A hospital, the Coven, around Aefenglom generally
What: Catch-all for the month
Warnings: Recovery from his long illness, possibly discussion of Dorchacht and Fright Night unpleasantness, will update as needed

The best laid plans of dogs and skeletons oft go awry, especially when they've been kidnapped by magic into another world. In a strange new world, you never know what mysterious malady may waylay you - whether it's losing your own magic, turning into a werewolf, or even a very persistent illness.

Back in the start of Septeril, Papyrus had every intention of going along for the Dorchacht trip and seeing for himself the waking truth of that city. He signed up, he made plans... and then he got bulldozed by a fever that knocked him directly into a hospital bed for weeks on end.

Well, maybe someone found him and brought him there. He doesn't remember the fine details of it very well, having spent a majority of the time asleep. Even the flashes of emotions and images across the bond from Chandra - heated moments of combat, argument, or, uh, stuff she cut off quickly... Those woke him up a little bit, but never for long. Enough to send back curiosity, concern, encouragement, and leak more than a little disgruntled irritation about being bed-bound, before he dozing off again.

💀 RECUPERATION, REHABILITATION, REHABITATION
Whatever it was, it was definitely a real illness, and not just his anxiety about it all getting the better of him. Papyrus would never choose to sleep so long! And so he's happy to tell anyone who will listen, now that he is, thankfully, recovering. Something about the upheaval of Fright Night, with the effects of the mist making for one of the worst full moons the city has ever experienced, breaks the worst of his illness. Having mostly-skeletal wings sprout from his back makes it even harder to sleep on his back, too.

Over the next few days he recovers enough to use his watch again, start moving around, and chat with his fellow patients. There's no shortage of reasons why people might be in at the hospital right now, after all - injuries from the recent full moon, people concerned about the effects of the mist, or those just visiting others.

The hospital holds him for observation a few days, to make sure the fever doesn't return, and to guide him through a little physical therapy. Skeletons may not have muscles to deteriorate, but even bones can get stiff from lying around too much... And, well. The wings fade with the mist, but the rest of the changes stick around, and they take a little getting used it.

💀 THE AFTERMATH
It's a few days after the full moons, and Papyrus is mostly recovered... but nothing's back to normal.

The city's changed over the last several weeks. Far more unhappy faces, with far more people who scowl and turn away at the sight of him. There's so few skeletons around that there's no question if he's one of the Mirrorbound, after all. And, awkwardly, the hospital, Coven, and the residential Haven are all in the aristocratic district - surrounded by the most irritable humans.

And his slow physical transformation continued while he mostly slept, and now there's an undeniable amount of fur on his bones, and his legs are far more canine. Even more canine than some of the dogs he's known! If he didn't have a little practice with it thanks to the more vivid dreams, it would really be tripping him up. As it is, he only stumbles when he's surprised by an abruptly slammed door, or other gesture of lingering anger.

"Oh my god," Papyrus complains at one point to the world at large, "what's gotten into everyone?" Surely it didn't get this bad just over the last couple of days, and he's heard things about Fright Night from messages sent out by watch... But what else did he miss while he slept?

💀 I HAVE TO MAKE EVERYONE GIVE UP GIVING UP!
Ultimately, it seems that people are being angry and scared of others in the same obnoxious way anyone ever does. And let no one say that Papyrus is incapable of being obnoxious in turn.

Having been in the hospital so long, all his part-time jobs are filled and moving on without him. He finds himself at loose ends, thinking about ethics and unacceptable behavior, when the brilliant idea strikes: clearly, the city has gone downhill so hard and so fast because they've been missing out on his guidance. Or, maybe it's not so direct a cause and effect, but they could at least benefit from his input! Regardless of how wanted it is.

So he goes around the streets on walks and jogs, talking about how great he is... and how great everyone else is, too. A glaring and whispering human who sees Mirrorbound and makes rude comments? Papyrus is sure they're better than that, and admires how much they must care about everyone, given how worried they are for peoples' wellbeing! Post a message on the watch that sounds self-disparaging and defeatist? Papyrus will appear, with positivity and encouragement.

Maybe you're one of the people suddenly subjected to Papyrus' help, or a bystander taking in the whole scene, or maybe you're stepping in to try troubleshooting his methods. He has the energy to do this for days, especially after all that sleeping.

💀 WILDCARD
[As always, if you have another prompt in mind, feel free to shoot it my way - we can chat via pm or plurk, or you can toss it up and I'll see if it works for me!]

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If she was totally honest, Chandra was kind of avoiding Papyrus in the immediate aftermath of it all. She struggled with control on the best of days, and her transformation into a hedonistic elf had not really done wonders for that. But it couldn't be something she could go on doing forever, as it was kind of ridiculous.

So, she sought him out, following the bond and turning a corner just in time to see him finishing up a lecture.

"You know," she says as she walks up, "Not everyone responds well to that..."

"Maybe not!" Papyrus admits, turning to greet her with the same bright smile he's been directing at a few wealthy humans.

The people in question take the chance to skedaddle the moment his ominous death skull isn't turned their way. They shoot the Mirrorbound a mix of anxious, annoyed, fearful, and thoughtful expressions as they go, blending swiftly into the crowd.

For his part, Papyrus hasn't sought her out too much either. It feels like she's been grappling with big, embarrassing feelings she's not ready to deal with, and he definitely doesn't have any idea what that might be like.

He can imagine all too well his brother prodding at him with questions, and that would be obnoxious enough. But with Chandra... Even if neither of them asks, hanging out is sometimes like an extended walk through that leaf tunnel, with everyone intently trying not looking at the images and feelings that come over the bond. He doesn't have any regrets about bonding with his friend partly because he's sure neither of them wants to hurt each other - and both want opportunities for privacy. Maybe a little of his restless energy is from going too long without much interaction with his bond, but he's fine.

"But some people respond very well," he continues, after a glance back at their retreating footsteps. He shrugs, dismissing the moment. "It's worth giving it a shot!"

And it's something to do with his excess energy, beyond being a way to reframe his discomfort with the city's condition. Reminding people they're making others uncomfortable by turning discomfort on them, and doing so in a way he makes it very clear he means no malice or harm...

Oh all that energy is definitely present and accounted for in her head too. She can tell he's a Skeleton on a Mission today. Even if that's just to get out and burn off excess feelings because he's been cooped up. She'd checked on him of course, but there didn't seem to be anything she could do a lot of the time.

"I suppose..." she muses, before reorienting herself and focusing entirely on Papyrus.

"You're looking a lot better. Doc said you could roam around?"

"Yeah, the fever broke. And it hasn't come back. So the doctor said I could pace around outside."

The doctor emphasized the last word. As opposed to pacing inside, walking and talking and generally getting on peoples' nerves. Though they didn't say it like that - they just mentioned the healing properties of outside air.

And he does feel better, really. His attention isn't wandering, and he isn't slipping off to sleep at any given moment. But as for looking better... His smile shifts a little to wry as he presses a hand to the furred back of his skull, and he glances down at his distinctly canine legs. As though it would all disappear from being touched.

"But... I'm getting used to the paws."

"Yeah?"

Chandra hadn't wanted to comment, exactly. She was going to get to it eventually, but since he brought it up, then she had less concern about it being a sore point. Or at least, a sore enough point that she wasn't okay to bring it up.

"How long have they been like that? Just today, or a little while now?"

The changes to his legs are a little bit a sore point, one he couldn't avoid thinking about once the question of how he looked came up... but the paws themselves aren't the worst thing, and he latches onto talking about them to avoid other thoughts for the moment.

"A little while?" Papyrus echoes, uncertain himself. "It happened while I was sick..." And the days blurred together, without work schedules or weekly events giving the passage of time any structure.

He continues studying his legs, thinking back, and concludes, "a few weeks ago. I guess that's the one, and only, upside to sleepy illness! I didn't have to walk around while they changed."

That would have been a particularly, literally sore point. This isn't so bad. It feels different from bone, different enough that he shifts his weight to distract himself from the strangeness of it, but they're developed enough not to hurt from standing. He doesn't mind the canine thing the way some humans might - dogs are people just the same as skeletons, where he's from. It's annoying that these paws don't fit in any of his shoes, meaning he has to retire yet another piece of his 'battle body' for good.

"I...see."

Chandra gets it, and she reaches up, rubbing at her forehead a little bit with her thumbs. She did get it, actually. In more ways than one.

"...Sorry, Papyrus. While you were out, things got weird. I changed too. I had horns but they just fell off."

Actually, literally fell off. She has set them aside.

Papyrus nods, guessing what she means - that fog. He's heard a bit about how it impacted the city, saw some of the Witches at the hospital suddenly sprouting their own monstrous features.

"Just like that? Recently??"

Very casually, he leans to the side a little, glancing back the way Chandra came from as if there's a pair of horns lying in the street. There aren't, and it was a kind of silly thought. But there's another logical extension from what he said to what she did.

"Did they itch, coming in? Or... hurt falling off?"

"Hurt like a bitch coming in. I had a headache for about three hours and probably was not particularly pleasant to listen to internally...sorry about that...but no itching. And no hurting coming out."

She shrugs casually, just...not happy with that memory at all.

"It was the mist. It turned me into an elf? Which that in and of itself is weird."

Mostly because Nissa.

At the question of unpleasant listening, Papyrus just sort of bobbles his head, not quite nodding or shrugging. He remembers bits and pieces, and pushing concern and encouragement back, but the hospital had been in a bit of upheaval. When everyone was suddenly becoming monsters, they worried that the already-monsters might go even moreso. It was distracting enough.

"An elf like your... friend?"

Significant pause, friend.

"That sounds weird. Turning a little like someone important... But when they're not there to see it." He pauses before adding, "and, I didn't know elves have horns."

"Sort of...like Nissa?"

Chandra pauses, knowing damn well that Papyrus knows about her. How could he not? However, it's easier to just ramble on past that. Let's not dwell on Nissa too much...right now.

"Some do have horns. Lorwyn Elves do, anyway. She's a from Zendikar, not Lorwyn, but they're similar. Zendikari elves are taller and more hardy, while Lorwyn Elves are the...uh...apex species on that world."

That's politer than saying 'they're the only ones not absolutely bugshit insane like the Merrow and the Boggarts and the rest.'

Papyrus looks anywhere else as Chandra pauses. Whoopsie daisy, he failed the 'pretend we don't know things' game. But emotions are hard, and they can rush right past that with a quick, uh, anthropology lesson?

"The top dogs have horns, huh..."

In his world, you could say humans are the apex species on the planet... thanks partly to them sealing monsters away. But even among monsters, those with really strong souls tend to be more powerful magically, and find themselves in positions of authority. He assumes the Lorwyn Elves are the 'apex' for similar reasons.

"Even if they're not the tallest or toughest... With strong magic, and horn headaches, I bet they butt heads a lot."

He says it sympathetically, with a hand idly brushing back along his skull to help himself imagine having horns. Something protruding from his skull, catching on clothes and banging on doorways... He hadn't considered this particular benefit to the werewolf change - that won't happen to him. What a relief.

He's not wrong, though a lot of it has to do with their mastery over moonglove poisons to kill their opponents more than any innate magic. ~~Most of them have deathtouch~~.

"Pftt..."

She actually laughs. Papyrus's...animated...way of speaking and gesticulating has a way of getting her to relax and have fun even if he's trying to be serious.

Quite a bonehead, that one.

"...Well, yes, I'm sure they do. I avoided them on general principal when I was on Lorwyn. They don't like outsiders much. Probably to do with the headaches. But anyway! You didn't miss anything fun with all that mist. It generally sort of sucked."

A lot of sucked, actually.

"And Dorchacht, when I went, wasn't that different from the dream.

~~Thank goodness she didn't have that ability, then. She's powerful enough as is, and nobody wants to accidentally poison anyone.~~

When Chandra laughs at something about his reply, he smiles more widely, cheekbones squishing up at the edges of his mouth. Distraction routine not quite intended, but successful all the same! That's an accomplishment.

His eyesockets don't squish up with the smile, though. Especially with the turn of the conversation directly after. The mist. Dorchacht...

"I heard that it sucked! Lots of people complained. But, uh... it really wasn't very different?"

Papyrus tugs at his shirt collar a little, grimacing through the increasingly forced smile. So much better than a magic controlling collar. He should probably regret having missed the trip more than he does. His ideals say, he needed to see for himself and make a difference. But boy.

"The dream was a terrible experience... I'm glad things aren't as terrible there now. Even if it's at the cost of Aefenglom being a little more terrible."

"Sure, yeah. We...definitely did some real damage to the city's slaving infrastructure."

Chandra does seem kind of proud of that. She had definitely burned a lot of stuff, and cracked and destroyed other things. It was a good time.

"The Resistance was taking over where we left off, once we had to return to the city. So, honestly I think it'll all be better. Even if there are refugees having to make the trip here, and terrorists trying to get back at us for what we did."

Slaving, ugh. It's still hard to believe that's a relevant word for things happening in the same world as him. Much better to follow the image of fire, and remember the fires in the dream. Maybe they weren't quite as bright and cheerful as accidentally burning a house down while cooking... But they were intentional fires with a very good purpose, so overall just as rewarding a good time. It's easy to imagine Chandra's recent bouts of pyromania were even moreso, a heartwarming destruction parade.

"Yeah!! Good! I'm glad," Papyrus declares, with plenty of sincere happiness. "I was rooting for them! Good people, hiding underground, with a world above that needs their help... I felt like one of them, and I never even saw their secret base."

Alas, it was members-only, which he didn't learn until after a while mucking about in the sewers. Thank goodness the mud didn't follow him out of the dream. And that's another thing to appreciate about missing this recent trip.

"And, as refugees share their stories... I'm sure everyone will understand how important it was!"

Well, maybe not everyone. But he does think more people will understand, and his voice picks up in volume as he expresses the sentiment.

"I'm sure."

Chandra smiles warmly, and finally walks the rest of the way over, putting a hand on Papyrus's bony shoulder. She has...thoughts...but they're kind of muddled. She's glad to see him up and about, really. He's got good, hopeful, energy.

"So..." she begins somewhat awkwardly. "You're up and about, and that means we should celebrate."

With that, she grins and looks down the street.

"Is there anything you've been dying to do, cooped up like you have been? Or eat. My treat."

Up, about, and - now that they've been standing here a minute - bouncing on his feet a little bit. He has energy to spare, and he grins back at her before starting to walk in the direction she's looking.

"Oh, loads of things! Walking around the city... Doing a good day's work... Even, chasing squirrels..?"

Papyrus trails off on that last, since, well, it's a little more doggish an impulse than usual. But he has chased his share of small animals before, back underground. It's not too different for him, but he suspects not something Chandra would want to do, treat or no.

"As for food! Well! I don't know. Are there any cool new places open? Anything you've discovered and liked? I'm up for anything!"

Even the pain of that curry would be worth it, after so much safe, bland hospital food.

"Well, let's start with food. I did see a stall in the market that has some fried stuff that sounded good. Fish, chicken, but it's all on a stick."

Which is pretty novel, lets be honest.

"I was going to head there sometime this week to try it, and it's a good walk away, so you can stretch."

...She pauses, looking at his legs.

"...And maybe we'll find a squirrel or something you can chase around on the way."

Papyrus nods along with the idea, and coughs a laugh at the last suggestion.

"Stretch, walk, chew some food off a stick, and chase a squirrel up a tree... Incredible!"

He doesn't get through the last word without laughing outright, and the humor sticks around in his voice.

"You've planned every dog's dream day."

A few months ago, that might have been an upsetting offer to receive. He'd been worried for his missing brother, overshadowed by the upcoming transformations, and scared of the moon. But this isn't so bad.

"It sounds like a plan! I haven't had kabobs in a while... And I don't think they were fried."

"I guess I have, haven't I?"

Chandra can't help but sound a touch amused. He's not wrong, exactly. Though she's never really spent a ton of time around dogs, she figures that's the case. They can't be that different from cats, right?

"Every skeleton has his day I guess. Just don't ask me to scratch behind your non-existent ears."

She's kidding, of course, and it's an easy kind of banter.

"Aww, but all the dogs want ear scratches."

Unlike some cats, who seem prefer to watch people from a distance... and maybe see incoming hands as toys to chew and tug at. Most of the dogs Papyrus knows love to stick by their favorite people, and he's finding himself happiest near friends, even if bored with what they're doing. Will that turn into wanting to get pet, too? Turnskin instincts are absurd

"But I have hands, anyway! I can scratch my own non-existent ears. And... that may change soon enough. If the dreams are any indication."

He tugs off a glove and takes a couple claws gently to the side of his skull. If he thinks about it too hard, it's as if he can feel the fur growth reaching forward. Somehow the paws, claws, and tail aren't as bizarre as the ears - at least they're all changes to what he has. Fur? Ears? Those are something completely new.

"Existent ears are fair game, right?"

"We'll see..."

Chandra gives him a teasing look, reaching her arm around to pull the lanky bag of fuzzy bones into a shoulder hug. It's brief, but the contact is nice. She's missed that. Even if he isn't exactly the softest to the touch.

"I have to wonder, can a skeletal turnskin get fleas? Would they have anything to nibble on, or would you be free of that..."

Questions for the ages...

"Have you had your first full change yet, actually?"

Awww. Papyrus leans into the hug for that moment, and continues walking side-by-side when she pulls off. There's not much cushioning to him, it's true. Maybe there's something to wearing a heavy hoodie.

"Ugh."

Papyrus grumbles briefly at the notion of fleas - a terrible question, but the idea has been haunting him for some time. He doesn't know have an answer for that one, yet.

"Well... I think so. I don't remember the full moons very well..."

Not least because he was put into magic sleep for most of the last two, so the hospital would have a minimum of sick and feral monsters to worry about.

"My memories go a bit fuzzy. "

He's earnest about that much - what he does recall of the Juril and Auguril full moons involved a bit of destroying his room while he became some kind of canine, and then not very much at all. But he doesn't manage to hold a straight face, and a wheezy little snicker leaks out of his mouth.

Chandra...has no idea that this is troubling him. She just keeps on walking, listening quietly...but when he lets out that pun, she stops.

Turns.

And stares at him with the flattest possible look.

"...That was absolutely the worst pun I've ever heard."

Papyrus comes to a stop when she does, halfway through a step that he pulls back from.

"Huh?? I know it was bad..."

His gaze flickers around briefly, eyesockets shifting as he thinks back over the joke he'd just so pointedly made.

"...You're right, it was terrible! And the delivery made it even moreso. But the worst?!"

Has he lived a life steeped in terrible punnery, or has Chandra lived one blissedly free of it? Maybe he needs to reconsider a few things.

"The worst."

She...maintains a stony face for all of...maybe ten seconds before she bursts out laughing. Absolutely bursting out laughing.

Why? Because...

"...The look on your face!"

Those ten seconds are a brief but grim time, overshadowed by an imagined future of dirty socks and dirtier rooms.

So he startles when she starts laughing, then scowls - his cheekbones going pink.

"Huh..? Oh my god! Don't scare me like that!"

He throws his hands up and stomps a few times for good measure.

"I'm already turning into dog person, I don't need to turn into my brother too!"

"We'll see..."

Chandra, smugly, grins at him. She's a bit of a shitter sometimes.

"I make no promises, if you keep telling groaners like those."

She really is. He'll have to plot a fitting revenge, maybe while they eat.

"Sigh. I guess I deserved that."

Rather than stay here, with a couple people watching them after his complaining and Chandra's laughter, Papyrus starts walking again - slowly enough for her to catch up without trouble.

"I just don't have much to say about it. I hardly remember the full moons. People say that happens sometimes, with turnskins..."

Especially if they're fighting the change.

"But, maybe this time will be different. I know what to expect... I have a bond... It's not so scary."

"Yeah."

Chandra follows along, letting the matter lapse back to the serious stuff.

"One of the Turnskins I know went ballistic one night and tried to bite my head off. Which, by the way, silver is something you're gonna want to avoid. It burns Turnskins as bad, or worse, than fire just by a touch."

At that, she reaches to her belt and pulls out a long silver dagger. And keeps it very, very far from him.

"I've carried this since I wound up on Innistrad. There were werewolves crawling all over that place, and it seemed like a smart idea. Probably the only reason Fang didn't bite me and I didn't gut her is because even a slight touch burns."

A few parts of the conversation are alarming surprises to him, and Papyrus' smile fades harder with each one.

"Okay. That's plenty scary."

Thanks to her starting with a warning, he doesn't reach out to experimentally poke the knife. A burnt finger would likely put a damper on the fun lunch outing, gloves or no gloves. But he fixes the image to memory before trying to smile again.

"But also... Reassuring! Reassuring for you. With burning silver, and burning hair... You're about as turnskin-safe as they come."

"Sorry. It...wasn't really scary at the time. I was just real mad."

Surprise, surprise, Chandra was angry at something. It's almost like it's her default emotion.

"But yeah, I'm okay. I also figured out teleportation so I can get away, if I really want win. You don't have to worry about me, Papyrus."

The part where she was angry wasn't a surprise at all. That she's had repeated experiences with hostile werewolves, though? That she's still friends with them...

"A continued relief!" Papyrus concludes. "I might be relieved of that duty, but... I think I'll worry a little. Part-time, on the weekends."

He has to get his practice in, in between marathons of determined optimism.

"And... hmm. So you can teleport, now... I expect you're hugely tempted to prank people, right?"

Arlinn was cool and super helpful before she showed up on this plane. She brought wolves to the crazy planeswalker war. And Fang just has perfect hair.

"Yep."

Chandra grins. Not at all abashed by this.

"Though it's not a temptation, it's just a thing I'm doing now. Like, appearing out of a fiery portal tends to make people jump, you know?"

"That makes sense. I don't expect fiery portals anywhere, any time. But it's 'porting prankster 101 to teleport just out of sight!"

As with the skeleton puns, Papyrus is opinionated and experienced in this matter.

"That's key to things like... Ominous silhouettes, that disappear before you can make them out. Twigs snapping behind you, when you think you're alone, and you look back... and they're already gone. Things like that."

He's been gesturing as they walk and talk, and his hands slow to a halt as he realizes what he's been advising her.

"However! You don't have to do any of that. Everyone would appreciate that you don't!"

"The real question is....how would you feel if I started doing that?"

The pyromancer, of course, has a mischievous smirk plastered all over her face.

Is she gonna? Yes, 100%. But if it bothers him for real, then she will leave him be.

Papyrus squints at her face, taking in the mischievous smile, before going oh. He's being had, or at least being teased a little. Fair enough, for all it's driving home the likelihood she will do some pranking. Maybe he shouldn't give her more ideas.

"Frustrated! And a bit concerned. I'm already turning into a dog, or something... You don't need to go turning into my brother!"

It may not bother him for real, but it will probably brother him.

"That is... I do love him. But sometimes he's aggravating. And, not in the hug it out way."

"Don't worry. I do intend to keep my skeleton on the inside."

So, she has that at least.

"Anyway! Here's that stall. So let's eat!"

"Efforts made by agents of Dorchacht, apparently," Toby rumbles. If she were human she'd be looking pale. As is she's carrying herself differently, shoulders more hunched and tense, her arms generally held so her blades angle more defensively outwards. She did not have a good fright night.

Possibly because of the blades, people are giving her more of a berth than usual. Toby is still constantly assumed to be a full-form Dragon, despite all her time here; that's playing in her favor now.

"Did you see the report on the communicators?"

"The... report?" Papyrus echoes, a little shifty as he tries to guess what she means without letting on that he's guessing. If she's injured or sick too, it's hardly the time to let her down by not knowing what she means.

"I saw a few reports. About mind control, and making people forget, and refugees? And SQUIP doing some terrible things."

He briefly skimmed most of the communications sent about while he was sick, but only retained bits and pieces of them. And after so long lying in bed, he hasn't wanted to just sit around reading the archive. He'll get to it. Eventually.

"More recent than that. There was a text-based announcement about someone using Monster parts and Witch blood to make that horrible fog. Including parts Mirrorbound had been selling." She exhales sharply through her snout, irritated; while she'd never imagined it would lead to the events of a couple days ago, she hadn't liked the concept.

Though she had sold some blood to vampires to fund her efforts with the Dorcha refugees. It's the terrible thing about capitalism - to do anything at all, you need money. Her blood was definitely consumed instead of going into the fog and so she has that one bit of comfort, counterbalanced by the knowledge that there is absolutely a vampire who likes the way Toby tastes.

"Did it affect people in the hospital?"

"Oh! That! Yeah, I saw that." He even replied to it, less responding to the gravity of the situation than expressing relief Toby had already warned him about people might use body parts for nefarious purposes. Even if she had mostly been talking about witch body parts.

"You were right... and it did. It surprised the doctors! They didn't know what to do with suddenly being monsters. And I grew wings."

And more than a few people were rushed in, between panic about the changes, injuries during the more violent upheaval, and people knocked out because they took the full moons even worse than others.

"They're mad at us about that fog? We didn't even make it??"

Growing wings. That sounds so much more pleasant than what she got. Maybe it's a physiology thing, or amount of exposure. Maybe she shouldn't try too hard to work out the logic of how she and a talking skeleton reacted differently to breathing (?) or having surface contact to an aerosolized magic potion. "It seems few people escaped the direct effects. It is extra cruel to include a hospital in this."

Toby shakes her head, her horns swinging. "We are associated with it. I believe the reasoning is, if not for us Dorcha would probably continue as it had been and the non-contact between the cities would be maintained. It's not fair to blame us, but we are convenient targets."

More pleasant for sure. Maybe it's any of those things, or maybe it's the world briefly acknowledging that being a skeleton with fur is already unpleasant enough. Itching! Tangling! Maybe one day, though hopefully not, fleas?

Papyrus isn't complaining about the wings, in any case. Or about being in a hospital when it happened. There's no better place to be than a hospital, when you get injured, sick, or mutated by magic - as long as it's not super contagious.

But he does scowl - not at her, so much as at the description of the tension in the city, at the thought process people are displaying. "But there's a festival every month. About friendship! And love! And bonds. This is how they treat their new neighbors? Or their very old, very distant neighbors??"

Fleas will come and go without blood to drink. That doesn't mean there can't be mites of some sort.

"Yes, it's hypocritical, isn't it? Humans get like that," Toby says, student of a bookish middle school dropout. "They often hold creeds of acceptance and fellowship while also doing terrible things to people who are only slightly unlike them. The Mirrorbound are more unlike them. Even the humans have no older ties to these place and these people."

Phew! The skin binding his fur to bone is pretty minimal, without much blood to speak of. So it would take some pretty impressive fleas to get at his blood, given it's either in his bones or all but nonexistent.

"Outrageously hypocritical," Papyrus agrees, shrill with that very outrage. His scowling continues, and his footsteps are decidedly more stomping than mere footfalls. "I thought better of them. I thought they thought better of them! And... And I don't know why I'm so mad about it!"

He throws his arms up and grumbles enough to growl. It's not as though it's news to him that humans can be awful. At minimum, he's a lifelong underground denizen. And he knows a couple of neighbors in the underground are gone forever, thanks to his brief and departed friend. And, even in this city, there's a pretty stark contrast who lives in which areas...

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RUE YOUR LONG SLUMBER (open)

GIVE UP GIVING UP!

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I think maybe we can phase this out? I'm wanting to start new stuff here soon and wrap old

Aftermath

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