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Sans was a fantastic monster.
In many ways, the stroking and prodding of Sans's bones was borderline questionable. But he and the skeleton continued to sit in relative silence. Something was playing in the background, on the television, but Traven had a feeling neither of them were watching it. Even if Sans's eyes were glued to the screen.
The smaller of the two looked relaxed; reclined against the arm of his couch. But there was a smattering of concentration Elliot had learned to pick up on, just beneath the surface of the skeleton's careful facade.
He still wasn't sure exactly how this felt to the other. "probably the same way it feels to humans," the monster had said with a shrug. But he could never be sure.
That aside, Sans's bones were... fascinating, in a sense. They intrigued him. They were, expectedly, solid. As bone should be. But they were warm. And pliable. You could change the shape with a decent amount of pressure; pushing it one way or the other, or by pinching it. But it shifted back to original form the same moment the pressure eased. He'd dare say it was akin to human tissue and skin, in that respect, but the material felt too alien. Not smooth enough to be glass-like, not rough enough to be a fabric or skin. Something in between that left Traven very curious as to whether or not such a material existed outside the realm of magic.
The bones also lacked the normally easy give of a human body. He could, in fact, rap his knuckles on Sans's leg, and get a resounding, wooden knock for his efforts. That had been one of the first things he'd tried, upon receiving permission from Sans to satiate his buzzing thoughts. The skeleton had snickered at the action, and made a pun accordingly.
There wasn't any oil you'd find on a human on Sans, either. It was a stark contrast to his own fingers, naturally oiled as they were. That was something he never thought he'd notice. But on Sans, it was obvious.
And while all of this was interesting, there was one more thing of note. Something that made goosebumps rise on the back of Elliot's neck every so often.
Sans's magic.
It was palpable in a thin layer of air around his immediate form. Like static on an old TV screen. It had the same warm, fuzzy, pseudo texture, buzzing against his hands at all times. Touching the bone itself, the feeling was more concentrated, but also accompanied by something damn near magnetic. Not that it would attract metal. No- the similarity was drawn because it felt like the resisting force of one magnet pushing against another.
And there was something so inarguably alive about his companion's body. Sans would definitely make a pun about being a skeleton if he heard that comment from Elliot.
The life was like a hum, or a vibration, but it wasn't. It was the feeling people got after leaving a body part touching something that jittered or vibrated for too long. The echo that existed once they'd peeled themselves away, and could still feel the shaking. But it wasn't numbing. That was the best way Elliot could describe the life-like quality in Sans's physical form. And it frustrated him that it wasn't enough to do justice.
This is magic, the doctor thought, tapping absent-mindedly on the other's leg. This is magic from this universe.