[They speak, and it feels like every particle in her body, every individual piece of her, begins to vibrate away. That out of nowhere, she is an amalgamation of atoms and bits and not at once herself, just pieces of magic held together, suddenly, by nothingness.
The laugh. The image file. The red voice drawing her back through months and months and it's too much. She wants to run, but she doesn't remember how to move her legs. She wants to be somewhere else entirely, as if her pieces could contract into a small enough line to fit all of her through the particles in the ceiling, through the floors, up up up to the sky and through the clouds and away, somewhere, not here.
Sans is talking and she doesn't know if she hears it. She can't feel the fact that a hand has gone to her head, that she's gripping it so tightly her claws are breaking through the skin. The palm is pressing one of her glasses lenses against her eyes, and she doesn't even register. Sans' words wash over her like water, white noise, slipping through the holes in her, where the p i x e l s don't quite meet when you're in too close-
He's talking. Words, equations, the essential numbers that make up the world. She can't remember what he said. Shifts to something. Anything.]
We n-need to get them somewhere safe. Where they can't hurt themselves or, or s-somebody else.
the disassocitrain don't stop
The laugh. The image file. The red voice drawing her back through months and months and it's too much. She wants to run, but she doesn't remember how to move her legs. She wants to be somewhere else entirely, as if her pieces could contract into a small enough line to fit all of her through the particles in the ceiling, through the floors, up up up to the sky and through the clouds and away, somewhere, not here.
Sans is talking and she doesn't know if she hears it. She can't feel the fact that a hand has gone to her head, that she's gripping it so tightly her claws are breaking through the skin. The palm is pressing one of her glasses lenses against her eyes, and she doesn't even register. Sans' words wash over her like water, white noise, slipping through the holes in her, where the p i x e l s don't quite meet when you're in too close-
He's talking. Words, equations, the essential numbers that make up the world. She can't remember what he said. Shifts to something. Anything.]
We n-need to get them somewhere safe. Where they can't hurt themselves or, or s-somebody else.