Chapter Text
This is a map I made of the layout of the viewing place, created in Canva. I thought it'd be fun to make it as if Ink drew it out, so he's added a bunch of doodles and comments to it. XD
Dust’s POV:
Dust startled awake to an unfamiliar room. His eyelights scanned his environment, noting the sleeping forms of several familiar figures. Once he’d ascertained that they were alone, he hoisted himself into a standing position.
“Where do you think we are?” Papyrus scratched his skull as Dust found Killer sprawled out at the base of a couch and cautiously approached. The hooded skeleton gave a noncommittal hum and shrugged, shooting his brother a quick glance so he’d know he was addressing him.
“You could dust a few of them?” The not-ghost suggested idly. “It’s free EXP! Or you could tuck them in with a blanket, they look a little cold.”
Dust snorted at the suggestion. Dusting the people he’d begrudgingly come to care for wasn’t exactly high on his to-do list when there wasn’t a homicidal human running about, but tucking them in like a Papyrus would a Sans wasn’t really up there either. Plus, Nightmare would be disappointed if he started dusting the Stars after the truce.
He smirked and gave Killer a light kick—enough to hurt, but not enough to cause damage—careful to stay out of the guy’s immediate striking range as he did so. The tearstained skeleton had once told him that despite his strength and speed, his world had gone through a RESET shortly before joining Nightmare, which had ultimately reset his base stats to one. Though his LV seemed to fluctuate with his emotions, for whatever reason, the guy usually defaulted to the Sans-staple of one HP.
Dust wasn’t looking to turn the guy into his namesake anytime soon, so he had to be mindful of his strength whenever he physically interacted with his fellows.
Killer startled awake with a light growl, hand whipping out to grab Dust’s ankle, only to be swiftly sidestepped. This wasn’t exactly the first time he’d had to wake Killer.
“Hey, no need for that.” Dust smirked slightly. “You’d best wake up before Nightmare does.”
Killer blinked and sat up, looking around the room with confusion. “Dust? Where are we?”
“That’s the question we’ve been asking ourselves for the last few minutes.” Papyrus crossed his nonexistent arms with a sigh.
Dust shrugged as he shifted his position to stand between the groaning figure of Ink and his still unconscious teammates. Though they’d all made peace with one another two years ago, he was always wary of an attack—one didn’t go through as many Genocides as him without retaining a certain level of distrust, even of allies.
Perhaps especially of allies.
“Ow… Gosh… Where are we?” Blue rubbed his skull as several others started to awaken.
“Aw, fuck. That’s one helluva headache.” Fell grumbled as he pressed a fist to his forehead.
Nightmare had gotten to his feet by this point and was scanning the room much in the way Dust had upon awakening. “This place…” His gaze narrowed as his tentacles flexed warily behind him, alert and ready for an attack. “It is… strange.”
Dream gave a very light frown. “It’s not familiar at all. Is this some kind of new AU?”
“No, I don’t think this is an AU…” Ink hummed as he looked around almost appreciatively. “Whoever managed this has resources.” He seemed rather relaxed.
“He has a point, brother!” Papyrus floated over to the corner of Dust’s vision. “You’d be hard enough to kidnap yourself, but they’ve got both Dream and Nightmare too!” His brother paused for a moment. “D’you think whoever this person is would give you a lot of EXP?”
Dust briefly considered it but shook his head regardless. There’d be no point in gaining more LV. He didn’t gather it to fight other Sanses, he’d gathered it to protect his home. There was no longer any point in gathering more when that was gone. Until the next RESET, at least.
“Okay, but that doesn’t help us figure out where the hell we are.” Fell scowled.
Blue suddenly Shortcutted a short distance away, frowning at his hands in confusion. “I can Shortcut within this place, but I can’t seem to leave it.”
Dust’s SOUL skipped a hard, painful beat as he reached for his magic, aiming to slice it through the space before him and tug on the energies of the multiverse to create a portal, but the magic that soaked the multiverse as a whole seemed to slip through his phalanges like water. He tilted his head towards Nightmare with a small shake. “I can’t make a portal.”
Nightmare and Dream shared a heavy look for a moment. “You as well?”
Dream deflated a little. “I can feel the positivity in the multiverse, but I can’t reach it. It’s like there’s something keeping me from grasping at it.”
“It doesn’t exist.” Error’s distorted voice matched Ink’s as the two spoke in perfect synchronization, sending one another a startled look.
“What?” Horror blinked at them both. “What doesn’t exist?”
“This space. It isn’t real.” Error eyed the room with a mixture of what appeared to be intrigue and wariness.
“How does that make any sense?” Killer scowled. “I mean… we’re right here.”
“Just because we exist in the space doesn’t mean the space itself exists.” Ink tapped his chin. “It feels… synthetic?”
“Feels like desperate programming.” Error ran a hand down his face and Dust took another look around the room.
Indeed, there was a certain feeling of… disconcertment that pervaded the air like monster dust. Though the couches and coffee table looked clean and well maintained, everything felt off in a way he couldn’t quite put his phalanges on. Like walking through your house in a dream, but still only on the outer edges of being aware it was a dream.
“Error?” Ink looked towards his counterpart. “Do you think you can, um… check the code of this place?” He gave a light pout as a small notebook disappeared back into his pocket. “This place isn’t an AU, so there’s no script.”
Error sighed as he gently touched the blue stains beneath his own sockets. Dust watched with intrigue as a string of blue was pulled away and detached, stretched instead between two index fingers. Error gave a sharp flick and something in the air glitched. His eyelights fuzzed in a myriad of headache-inducing colors as he flickered within existence, reading whatever code their not-reality was made of. His scowl seemed to deepen, and Dust was pretty sure that was a bad thing.
“Well… I’ve got good news and bad news.”
“Oh! Oh! Do the good news first!” Blue bounced on his metatarsals excitedly, earning a fond glare from Fell.
Error gave an irritated sigh. “Well, the good news is I was able to figure out what the coding of this realm is for, though there’s a lot and I wasn’t able to see all of it, whoever made it did leave me a basic overview of what this code is for in the notes.”
“Multiverse code has a notes section?” Fell looked as startled by that as Dust felt.
“And the bad news?” Killer shot him a look that earned him a warning glare from Nightmare.
“Aside from the fact that it’s specifically coded to prevent me from altering it?” Error clicked his tongue. “This place is meant to relive a pre-selected set of memories.”
Everyone went quiet at that. “H-hold on.” Dream looked rather alarmed at the prospect. “You’re saying this place is going to make us relive our memories?”
“I’m saying it’s going to show our memories to each other. Like a… holographic television, I suppose.” He hummed. “Seems to be keyed to specific people, but I can’t figure out who just yet, since we’re all ‘Sans’.” He scowled, eyeing Nightmare and Dream. “Well… most of us.”
“So we could be watching one person’s memories, or we could be watching everyone’s.” Ink leaned against his brush in thought. Dust thought he saw something like trepidation cross the artist’s expression. “Well, that might be a bad thing, or it might just be boring.”
“Oh, sorry that the prospect of reliving our lives and trauma is boring to you.” Horror snarled.
“Horror, calm down.” Nightmare gently wrapped a tentacle around his wrist before turning to address the others. “If it’s coded for ‘Sans’, then it’s fairly safe to assume Dream and I are excluded.”
“We’ve never had that name, though we were created in the image of a Sans.” Dream smiled. “That said, I don’t think our usual methods of travel are going to work here.”
“Think we could just break down the walls or something?” Killer glanced towards one of the walls of the room, but Error shot him a glare.
“Don’t even think about it. If you somehow destabilize this place and it collapses on us, escaping will become the least of our worries.”
“If it’s not real, then we can’t die though… right?” Killer blinked at him.
“This space isn’t real. I never said we weren’t.” Error snarled.
Dust was pretty sure he had a fair grasp on the situation now, so he decided to intervene before Error had a shutdown. “He means that we were physically transferred to a space that didn’t exist before we got here. This place was created as something separate from the multiverse, but those of us here were fully and physically transported here. We’re not just mental projections or something.” He turned to stare at Ink and Error, who were both staring at him with slightly open mouths and looks of surprise. “Did I understand that properly?”
“Uh… y-yeah.” Error shook himself.
“It seems like this place has a few rooms, at least?” Blue piped up hesitantly.
“Yeah, there’s a kitchen too.” Horror pointed behind himself, where an open doorway revealed a rather impressive kitchen layout with a dining room just through the other doorway on the same wall. “It seems stocked.”
Dust hid his momentary smile in his brother’s scarf. Leave it to Horror to be the first to locate the food. “Oh! I think there might be bedrooms in that case, too!” Papyrus bounced up and down in excitement, but the hooded Sans opted instead to turn his gaze towards the living people that accompanied him.
“I don’t like it.” Nightmare frowned, flicking one of his tentacles in irritation. “This implies that we’ll be spending a fair bit of time here…”
“Hey, Sans! Look at this!” Papyrus’ red scarf drew his eye, and Dust’s gaze fell upon a small paper sitting on the couch that nobody had noticed. The others were still discussing things, but the note was probably something important. This in mind, Dust made his way over to the small slip of paper and picked it up.
The first thing he noticed was that it was handwritten. Something about the script struck him as off—it bothered him, almost irrationally so, to the point where he couldn’t even read the damn note. It took Dust a long moment of staring at it before he realized what was bothering him so much. He was staring at his own handwriting. It shook him more than he’d like to admit to see his own handwriting staring back at him in letters he had no recollection of inditing.
It took him another moment to realize the implications behind what he held in his hand. Either someone was trying to frame him for this mess—and very committed to doing so—or there was some serious time travel bullshit going on here. If this was another him behind this though, then why? What could any version of him possibly gain by kidnapping everyone to watch memories of one another?
Better yet, how would this even be possible? If this was another him—and at this point it was still a tossup between someone framing him or some kind of dimensional or temporal spaghetti going on—then how in the name of the stars could he manage to create a space that ‘doesn’t exist’?
Then again, there was a third possibility… that whoever was behind this just happened to have frighteningly similar handwriting to Dust’s own.
“Hm? Dusty, did you find something?” Killer’s inquiry drew the attention of the rest of the room.
He nodded, holding up the note that he still hadn’t had the chance to read. He could read it aloud, if he wanted to, but the thought of everyone’s gazes upon him for an extended period of time was a distinctly displeasing thought. He instead handed the note to Nightmare, who took it with a nod of thanks.
Nightmare’s eye flickered towards Dust in question when he saw the handwriting.
“Not me.” Dust shook his head. Nightmare hummed and nodded before he began to read the letter aloud.
‘Hey. So if we’ve done this right, there should be nine of you here, and you should all have been pulled roughly two years after the end of the war. I know you’re skeptical, some of you might be angry or scared. I’ll do my best to explain what I can.’
‘First, let me address some concerns you likely have. While you are here, time will not progress in the multiverse. However, though this space is isolated, your individual times have not paused. You will get hungry, or desire rest. We’ve done our best to accommodate you. The kitchen is stocked, there’s a sparring room down the hall, books in the library and individual bedrooms for you all. Horror, don’t worry. There’s no need to ration anything. There’s plenty of food.’
Horror stiffened a bit as he was personally addressed, but Nightmare continued reading.
‘Some of you will have more memories shown than others. Several of you will only have a handful, while those who were forced to take more morally drastic actions will unfortunately have more detailed memories shown to build a firmer understanding of what led you to those decisions.’
‘I’m sorry. I know watching memories and sharing pasts isn’t something many of you are keen to do, but it’s the only way we could think of. There is another war on the horizon. We didn’t lose, but we didn’t win either. I’d say we’ve reached one of the worst endings we can, honestly.’
‘It took a lot to make this happen. You are our only chance. I know you’re still confused, and yeah… if you see this handwriting, then you’ll probably be able to guess the idiot behind this pen. But if things have gone the way I intended, then by pulling you here, we’ve already ceased to exist. We’ve painstakingly ensured that this wouldn’t splinter the timeline, but instead flex it back linearly to erase our future entirely.’
Future… If this was someone from the future, then… Perhaps that handwriting was Dust’s after all.
‘I’ve mentioned a lot of things in this letter, least of all being time travel and a war. But those explanations will come later. We’ve set up further messages for you and if I’ve got this right, then you’ll eventually get the full rundown of what’s coming. But as for the reason why we’ve decided on making you watch memories…’
‘Trust is something that is not easily shared, especially among those of you with darker pasts. This coming war will require a full understanding of each other, your abilities, and why you are the way you are. It wasn’t just my choice, many of you in the room also agreed to this—your future selves, at least.’
‘Dream. Nightmare. We weren’t able to pull any memories from you, but the two of you also need to be here. Support the others, and please… take care of yourselves.’
‘Good luck everyone. We’re rooting for you.’
The room was silent as everyone processed the new information. Dust’s own mind was running a thousand miles a minute. War. That message had mentioned a war. Honestly, he’d never much cared for the other universes. His interests lay mostly with his own, but if something had happened to threaten everything, then…
His gaze landed upon the troubled furrow of Killer’s browbones, the way his soul shivered visibly for a moment as he processed things as well. Horror was tugging at his right eyesocket again—a bad habit he had when stressed. Even Error was playing with his threads, creating complex string figures as he mulled over this new information, his form glitching more than usual. Nightmare’s tentacles curled and unfurled with what he’d learned was anxiety or stress.
Yeah, Dust decided, if the existence of these people were at stake, then maybe he’d be okay with sharing some of his memories. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d gotten attached. There wasn’t much he could do about it at this point, so he’d resolved himself to protect them however he could. Protect them like he couldn’t protect his brother.
And if his own future self had decided that showing his past was for the best, then Dust had to trust himself. He was sure his future self had some very good reasons for doing this. He just wished he knew more about the entire situation.
“I suppose…” Dream broke the silence tentatively, “that if it’s really a matter of another war, I can understand why…”
“Easy for you ta say.” Fell huffed. “You and Nightmare are excluded from this whole mess.”
“Lucky bastards.” Killer muttered softly, earning a sigh from Nightmare.
“If it eases your minds,” the King of Nightmares turned his gaze towards those who had given him their loyalty, “I will share parts of my own past with you privately. An… even trade, so to speak.”
Dust stiffened. Nightmare was going to tell them about his past?! Willingly?
Killer squinted at Nightmare. “Who are you and what did you do with the Boss?” He approached the deity with a twirl of his blade. Nightmare didn’t deign to give him a verbal response, instead placing a tentacle in the middle of his forehead and slowly pushing him towards Dust and Horror. “Fine, be that way.”
“Don’t take it so personal, Kills.” Horror chuckled. “It’s not like you’re alone or anything. Plus we’ve got plenty of food here. We should be fine.”
“Well, it did mention a sparring room…”
“It did.” Dust reassured him. “If you need one later, I’ll spar you.”
Killer perked up like a puppy smelling a treat. He reminded Dust a lot of his Gaster Blasters when he got like this.
“Oh! I have an idea!” Blue popped up in their social circle, a disgruntled Fell firmly in his grasp. “Why don’t we explore this place!”
“It is… probably best to familiarize ourselves with the layout.” Nightmare begrudgingly agreed.
“Ooh, what do you think our rooms look like?!” Ink spun on his heel excitedly. “Do you think they’re blank canvases waiting to be filled? Or do you think our future selves decorated them?!”
“How would our future selves have decorated anything?” Fell shot him a look.
“Dunno.” Ink laughed. “How did our future selves make this place and pull us all here?”
Error scowled particularly harshly at that. “If I see my future self, I’m going to punch him in the face.”
“You think your future self helped out with this?” Ink blink at him curiously.
“Who else could code this thing?” He gestured to the empty air at his left, presumably where he had a ‘coding window’ pulled up. For a moment, Dust wondered if he looked that insane when he was talking about Paps.
“C’mon! Let’s start with the kitchen!” Blue spun to the east end of the living room. The open doorway on the right appeared to lead into the kitchen, while the larger open doorway on the left looked like a dining room. The table looked like it was enough to sit twelve people—plenty of space for their group of… nine, was it?
“Woah, future us didn’t half-ass this.” Killer whistled when they entered the kitchen. It was utterly massive, a long room that vanished around the corner. Plenty of counterspace, two sinks and what appeared to be an industrial grade oven and stove. There was a floor-to-ceiling walk-in fridge that Horror was nearly drooling over, especially when he saw it was fully stocked. The freezer was filled as well—also a walk-in.
“I think future me helped.” Horror stated after staring at the meat in the freezer. “Unless I taught some of you how to cut these right, this is my work.”
Dust mentally jotted that down. There was future him, future Horror, and future Error that were all involved in this so far. He couldn’t help but wonder who else had a phalanx in this pie.
The kitchen ended up wrapping around to the other end of the dining room. “So this room has three entrances.” Killer noted. “Two to the kitchen, one to the living room.”
“Hey, was that clock there before?” Fell pointed towards a large digital clock that appeared to be counting down from twenty two hours.
“Perhaps it is the amount of time we have before the memory viewing begins.” Nightmare hummed.
“A day to adjust.” Dream had a sour look on his face. “Well, it’s better than being thrown right into things?”
“You can say that again.” Fell shook his skull.
“It gives us plenty of time to explore, though!” Blue grinned.
“Do you think the other rooms have anything fun?” Ink hummed as they came back into the living area.
“Only one way to find out!” Killer sprinted ahead as Nightmare shook his skull. The tearstreaked skeleton hung a hard right as he entered a very long hallway, only to slip on the hardwood floor on the turn and crash to the ground with a startled yelp.
Several of them burst out laughing—Dust included—as Blue held out a hand to help him up through his own chuckles. “G-gee, Killer. Mwehehe… maybe you should slow it down a little?”
“It’s the FLOOR!” Killer insisted, as if his cheekbones weren’t turning red. “It’s got it out for me!”
“Of course, let’s blame gravity too since it’s also got it out for you. Obviously.” Dust smirked as Killer shot him a dirty look.
“I know where you live.”
“You say that like you can find a way to slip past my guard.” He waved his hand through the air. “Which you’ve done… how many times over the years?”
Killer glared but said nothing as he finally accepted Blue’s hand up. They both knew he’d never once managed to get the jump on Dust. “Whatever, I…” He trailed off when he saw the room he’d tried to enter. “Hey, Dusty. Think I found your’s and Nighty’s newest haunt.”
Dust’s eyesockets widened when he took in the view before him. It was a library, and it was massive. Though it wasn’t as large as Nightmare’s private library, it didn’t fall short in comparison either. The room was large, filled with mazes of twelve foot tall bookshelves—the kind that most of them would need blue magic to pull from the upper shelves—but it maintained an airy open feel to it. Massive windows let in what appeared to be natural sunlight (was there a sun here? Was there an outside as well?) and a fireplace was set into the far wall, complete with soft-looking chairs and couches that made Dust want to snag a book and curl up right then and there.
“An impressive collection.” Nightmare was already perusing a shelf. “Some of these books are new to even myself. I do wonder if they’re from the future.”
Dust didn’t know if his eyelights were capable of changing shape like Blue’s or Ink’s, but he felt like he was seeing stars when he saw that an entire section of the place was dedicated to fantasy stories—his favorite genre. One that Nightmare had only begun adding to his own library after Dust’s hesitant request for him to do so.
Future-him definitely helped make this place, he was certain of it.
“If this is a damn peace-offering, you’re still getting decked.” He muttered softly, earning an amused look from Papyrus. If he somehow met his future self, he would still hit him. Though with this library as a peace offering… well, he probably wouldn’t get a blaster to the face. Probably.
“Come on, we still have more to see.” Dream grabbed one of Nightmare’s hands with a fond, knowing smile. “You can spend the afternoon here once we’ve finished exploring.”
Nightmare narrowed his eyelight at his brother. “Uninterrupted?”
“Well, I won’t bother you.” Dream grinned.
“Somehow, this brings me little comfort.” Nightmare shot a look towards Ink and Killer, both of whom gave him the least convincing innocent smiles Dust had ever seen.
He made a mental note to read with a Blaster handy, just in case. He wouldn’t use it—not in the library where the books could be damaged—but it would serve as both a threat and a guard-dog of sorts while he relaxed.
If he had the chance to relax.
He reluctantly followed the group out into the hallway again, straight across into another room. It was a wide open and sun-filled area. There was a piano—a baby grand, he thought it was called—and a few glass tables with cushioned chairs. It reminded him almost of a surface cafe or something.
“Looks like some kind of reception room?” Ink tilted his head. “Like where you’d bring guests and talk over tea or coffee!” He poked at a potted plant that sat in one corner of the room. “Looks real to me.”
“This room’s got a lotta instruments.” Fell had apparently poked his skull into a room to the left of the entrance, on the same wall they’d entered from.
“Instruments?” Ink practically skipped over to him. “Oh, wow!! There’s a cello, and a marimba, and a guitar, and a keyboard and a koto, and—”
“We get it.” Error cut him off irritably. “Lots of instruments. Big variety. You can probably play all of them. Don’t.”
Ink shot him an affronted look. “I can’t play every instrument, you know! Can you even play one?”
Dust’s attention was pulled towards another room, opposite the instrument storage one. He still followed the conversation as he approached the door silently.
Error scowled. “Of course I can.”
“Prove it.” Ink gestured to the room.
“Uh, guys? Can we maybe do this after the tour?” Blue hesitantly spoke up as Dust took a peek inside, sockets widening as excitement thrummed through him. He quickly shoved the emotion down as best he could before he could tip off Dream or Nightmare, but going off the curious look from the deity of Negativity, he wasn’t quite fast enough. He sent him a smirk and a shrug. He saw two keys hanging on a leather cord just to the right of the door and snatched them, shutting the door quietly and locking it and rejoining the group. “Because if you two get into another spat, we’ll never get this done.”
“I agree.” Nightmare gestured back towards the hallway. “Shall we?”
“I wanna see that training room!” Killer grinned as he sped out.
“Find something good?” Nightmare asked him softly, and Dust smirked.
“That whole room is filled with liquor.” He grinned. “Floor to ceiling, the good stuff.”
Nightmare hummed. “Any wine?”
“Tons of it.”
“Does it have a lock?”
“Don’t think anyone else has noticed it yet.” Dust held up two keys and gave one to Nightmare, pocketing the other for himself. “Let’s leave it as a surprise.”
Nightmare chuckled. “As you wish.”
“These must be the bedrooms.” Fell spoke up as they entered the hallway again.
Doors lined the place like a hotel. The door to their right was blank, but the one on their left had Horror’s name written on it.
“Well? Should we take a look inside?” Killer looked towards Horror, who shrugged.
“I don’t see why not.” Horror pushed open the door, only to blink in surprise. “Oh.”
“What’s wrong?” Dust frowned as Horror shook his head, tapping the wall to the right and twisting what appeared to be a light dimmer dial. Dust blinked when Horror led them inside. It was a nearly perfect replica to the room he had back at the mansion—minus the mess, of course.
The walls were a soft green-grey color, and his desk was pushed up against one wall. The mirror in the corner was covered by a sheet, and Horror’s extra axe was leaning against his nightstand. A personal fridge hummed softly in the corner. “Looks like mine. From home.”
“Does that mean all our rooms are replicas of ours?” Blue hummed.
“Only one way to find out.” Killer grinned. “Mine’s next!” He dipped back out into the hallway and went to the room right next to Horror’s. Dust rolled his eyelights and followed, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.
The room was, indeed, a replica of Killer’s back home—walls covered with knives and glass cases for his special ones. “Nah, this can’t be yours.” Dust smirked. “It’s clean.”
“Shut up.” Killer threw a pillow at him, but missed spectacularly. The pillow nearly hit the lightswitch and instead caught on one of the displayed knives, tearing it open and spreading feathers everywhere.
“Oh, nevermind, guess it is yours.” Dust snickered as the others took in the room.
“That’s… a lotta knives.” Fell stared. “Dunno why I expected somethin’ different.”
“It’s Killer. He asks for new knives every Gyftmas.” Dust deadpanned.
“I do not!” Killer pouted. “I asked for other stuff last year.”
“Killer, you asked for knife polish.” Horror shot him a look.
“Which isn’t a knife!” Killer insisted.
“Oh! My room’s across from yours!” Blue skipped across the hall and opened the door. “It really is like mine!”
Dust trailed behind him, curious despite himself. It was… pretty normal, actually. Pale blue walls with a darker blue accent wall, baseboards in white, galaxies strewn across his ceiling in a way that screamed it was Ink’s handiwork. The room itself was very clean, yet lived-in. A few papers were already strewn across the desk as Blue sorted through whatever was there. He half expected a blue racecar bed, but alas… it was simply a bed.
Though he was somewhat surprised to see some science books on the small knee-high bookshelf. Perhaps Blue had once been a science nerd like many Sanses seemed to be (he blamed Classic wholly for that, despite the fact that he was once a Classic himself).
“I’m your neighbor, I guess.” Fell stepped back out into the hallway. Everyone trailed behind him as he opened the door. The room was… very Underfell.
The walls were dark grey with a deep red accent wall. All the furniture was red or black or some combination of the two, and various weapons hung upon the wall as if to scream at anyone who visited that the owner of the room was dangerous. Dust couldn’t help but snort when he saw the very out of place black cat bed in the corner, complete with a scratching post wrapped in hemp cord.
“You got cats?” Killer blinked at the bed.
“The boss has a cat.” Fell corrected. “Named her Doomfanger. She just likes me more.”
“I’ve got three cats.” Killer grinned. “I’d love to meet Doomie some time!”
“Doomie?” Fell repeated with an almost offended expression.
“Yep! My cats are Stabby, Bitey and Knifey!” Killer pulled out his phone and swiped the screen a few times before spinning it around to show his cats off. “That one’s—”
Dust tuned him out, sharing an eyeroll with Horror over the whole occurrence. Killer did this every time someone mentioned liking cats. He had half a mind to get a dog just to see the chaos unfold, but he was about eighty percent sure Nightmare would gut him for that. And he certainly didn’t want to put forth the effort of caring for a dog. Too much cleanup and attention, thanks.
Besides, if that thing ever made a mess of the library, Nightmare wouldn’t be the only one out for blood.
Horror was the first to back out of Fell’s room, sockets clenched. Dust quietly made his way over. “You good?”
“Yeah, just a lot of contrast.” He shook himself.
“Let me know if you need anything.” Dust gently patted his arm before pulling away, earning a soft smile from the taller skeleton. He blinked when he realized his own room was across from Fell’s—smushed right between Horror and Error’s.
“Oh, Dusty, it’s you!” Killer popped up right behind him and slung an arm around his shoulder. Dust shot him a look that had him retracting his arm in record speed, holding his hands up in surrender. “Right, right. Sorry.”
He shouldn’t have to remind Killer that he doesn’t like physical contact. Well, to be fair, he usually did remember. But Killer got clingy when he was stressed, and Dust got touch adverse when he was having an off day, so… they really didn’t mix well when they were both stressed. And this entire situation was one gigantic ball of it.
He pushed open the door to his own room and felt something in his chest unwind. The mid-grey walls smattered with trails of white, like monster dust floating through the air and curling around him. His soft rug that cushioned his aching feet at the end of each day. The subtle tones of gentle reds and pastel blues that peeked out from accents in the room. It was rather minimalist—Dust didn’t like collecting a lot of useless trinkets—but the main part of his room was what brought him the most comfort.
The books.
Two walls were nothing but books, floor to ceiling. Organized by subject and sub-organized by personal preference—a system Nightmare absolutely hated, but he didn’t have to like it since it was Dust’s personal collection.
“Huh… didn’t peg ya for a bookworm.” Fell’s voice caught his attention, and what little tranquility he’d managed to find fled like shadows before the sun.
“Dust’s as big of a reader as Nightmare.” Killer snickered. “I think he’s starting his own library in here.”
“Wow! Is that a quantum physics book?” Blue was looking over some of his titles with great enthusiasm. “And psychology too!”
“The wall paint is interesting.” Ink hummed. “Did you do this yourself? You’ve traced the wind currents well!”
“If there’s one thing I know well enough to recreate, it’s monster dust.” He said simply, noting the way Fell and Blue both winced at that. He saw the way Fell eyed a jar of dust on his shelf, but the red-eyed skeleton wisely didn’t say anything about it.
“You done?” Dust shot the group a look. “Then stop invading my space.” He shooed everyone out before closing the door behind him, mentally sighing in relief when he realized it had a lock, just like the one back home. They’d probably have to explain ‘room rules’ to the Stars though. Maybe he could make Nightmare or Killer give that explanation.
“Guess I’m next.” Error’s was the room right next to Dust’s. When he pushed the door open, Dust nearly hissed in displeasure.
It was white. Stark. White. Blindingly so. He felt like the hallway was a million times brighter just from him opening that damned door.
“Geez, what the hell, Error?!” Fell cracked open an eyesocket.
“You live in the Anti-Void long enough, you get used to it.” Error shrugged.
“No wonder you’re half-blind.” Ink scrunched his nose.
“Hang on, I think it’s somewhere around here…” Error must’ve done something, because the whiteness suddenly changed to a much more soothing green-blue color. Dust scrubbed at his sockets for a moment before hesitantly stepping through the doorway.
“Colored lights?” Killer blinked as the room started to slowly filter through a rainbow of colors.
“Oooh, that’s neat!” Ink bounced excitedly. “You could also put a disco ball up there and really have fun!”
“Knowing you, you’d do a glitterbomb.” Error scowled.
The room, now that Dust could see it, was pretty sparse. There were a couple of beanbag chairs in a corner, a television, a desk against the wall, and a handful of books on a shelf. Strangely enough, there was no bed to be seen, though there was a large wooden chest that Dust could barely see some yarn hanging out of. Must’ve been his knitting supplies. Perhaps he kept his sewing fabrics in there too.
“Boring.” Ink pouted. “You have no stuff.”
“I live in the Anti-Void.” Error rolled his eyelights. “I don’t need stuff.”
“Well, c’mon! Mine’s next! I’ll show you what a room should look like!” He grabbed Error’s scarf and practically dragged the guy from the room.
Dust stared when he entered the room. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting—perhaps something that’d make Fresh feel right at home with headache-inducing colors—but Ink’s room was surprisingly… beautiful.
The wall opposite the door had a whole damn forest painted on it. Paint bled across the wall like watercolors, blending greens and browns against a soft blue backdrop dotted with wispy white clouds. There was a desk pushed into the corner, a piano keyboard beside it—both somehow already overflowing with handwritten sheet music scrawled in colored pencil. The wall to the left, where Ink’s bed was pushed against the wall, was another watercolor scene, though instead of depicting anything specific, it seemed to be a gentle abstract of different colors that left Dust feeling oddly inspired.
The wall the door was set against was done in soft browns and yellows—it reminded him of the pictures of sand dunes he’d seen in a book long ago. It made him feel warm, somehow. The last wall was done in hues of blues and greens with veins of shimmering gold running along it like marble. Along that wall appeared to be Ink’s art supplies—three easels, two stacks of sketchbooks, and five large boxes that probably held paints and pencils and whatever else the artist used on the daily.
There was a chest of drawers along the wall too, each drawer labeled with what type of paint lay inside, and pictures hung along each wall. Every finished piece, a work of mastery the likes of which Dust hadn’t ever witnessed before. He had charcoals, paintings, pencil drawings and wood burnings. Everything from strange abstracts Dust couldn’t make heads or tails of to images so real he swore they were moving.
He didn’t know what he’d expected when he entered Ink’s room, but this was beyond his wildest imagination. And just when he thought he’d seen it all, he looked up.
Dust had seen the stars before. Constellations glistening against an inky backdrop that felt a breath away and a thousand years all at once. No picture had ever compared to the real thing, but damn if this didn’t come close.
Because those stars painted real constellations, they seemed to move and shift and gleam like the real thing. He half expected a cloud to drift across his view any second.
“Holy shit… you did this?” Killer tore his gaze away from the ceiling to stare at Ink.
“You like it?” Ink beamed as Dust also ripped his sockets from the painting above them.
“It’s incredible.” Dust found himself answering.
“Is… that what they look like?” Horror’s voice was oddly distant, and a few people startled and looked at him.
“You… haven’t seen stars before?” Blue blinked at him. “But several surface Aus…”
“I don’t go there at night.” Horror was still staring at the ceiling. “Didn’t wanna see it. Not like I’ll ever… not at home. So I…” He seemed to remember where he was at that moment, because his jaw clicked shut and he resolutely stared at the wall in front of him instead, as if looking at the paintings that hung upon it. “Nevermind.” His voice was hard this time.
Blue went to say something to him, but Dust shot him a sharp look and silently shook his head. Thankfully, the shorter skeleton seemed to get the hint. “Dream’s room is next to Ink’s!” He shared a grin with Dream. “Let’s go check it out!”
Horror’s shoulders relaxed as everyone filed out. He snuck another look at the ceiling. “If you want, I could paint yours like that?” Ink suggested quietly. “When we’re out of here, I mean.”
“Maybe. I’ll… get back to you on that.” Horror answered before leaving.
“What’s that about?” Ink frowned. “Did he like it, or not?”
“His AU doesn’t have a Frisk anymore.” Dust explained softly. “It’s likely his Underground will never reach the surface. I think it’s bittersweet for him. He’s avoided seeing the stars all this time because of that.
Ink hummed. “I don’t really get it, but I guess if he doesn’t wanna see them, that’s that.” He shrugged and grabbed Dust’s wrist, ignoring the sharp glare he got in response. “C’mon! Dream’s room’s next!”
He pulled his wrist out of Ink’s grasp as they reached the room. “Don’t touch me.” He hissed and tugged his hood a little further down his face. Killer sent him a slightly concerned look, but Dust met his gaze and rolled his eyelights to let him know he was fine. Relatively.
Dream’s room was simple. He had a lot of useless trinkets on his shelves, and the color scheme seemed to match his own—soft blues and yellows. He didn’t have many books, though he seemed to have a few color-by-number books that’d likely been gifted to him by Ink. A few different bows rested in the corner of his room along with some different types of quivers and a box that was likely for storing his physical arrows.
His walls proudly displayed several pieces of art that had Ink’s signature scribbled in the corner, and there was also a carefully framed childish drawing of a yellow and purple blob beneath some kind of tree. Nightmare had a bit of a reaction when he saw that one, but he didn’t say anything.
Perhaps it was something personal, then.
“Ooh, Nighty’s last!” Killer looked unreasonably excited, especially since the three of them knew quite well what Nightmare’s room looked like.
“Uh… is it really okay?” Fell looked suitably intimidated by the prospect of looking at the bedroom of one of the most feared deities in the multiverse.
“It is fine.” Nightmare assured him as he opened his door and flicked on the lights. The Stars stared, each one with varying amounts of what appeared to be disappointment—much to Nightmare’s apparent amusement.
The room was done in dark neutral greens with mahogany furniture, each piece hand carved by a master craftsman with intricate designs. A soft rug of grey-green patterns sat beneath a four-poster bed, the curtains of which were currently drawn back. Two large floor to ceiling windows stood on the far end of the room, where a single elegant wingback chair sat with a soft blanket thrown artfully over its arm. A coffee table sat before it, ready for a cup of coffee and a good read.
Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined the wall to the left, filled with all kinds of knowledge that Nightmare didn’t let out of his room—even for Dust.
Overall, the room had a very aged and elegant feel. It was cozy, warm, and still inviting and open in that way that was uniquely Nightmare.
“That’s… it?” Blue blinked. “Y’know, for the god of negativity, it’s a little… underwhelming?”
“What, you expected a torture chamber perhaps? Or some sort of cellar?” Nightmare’s cyan tongue subtly licked his upper lip—a habit Dust noticed he had when an unexpected and welcome emotion popped up. Looked like the disappointment of Fell and Blue in particular were quite the tasty snack for him.
“Well, there’s just so many rumors about your room.” Blue admitted.
“Lotsa people say it’s the place ya take people to ‘show ‘em who’s boss’.” Fell sent the room a disappointed pout. “S’ppose I was curious to see what all the excitement was about.”
Nightmare snorted. “I assure you, the only being I need to ‘show who’s boss’ on any frame of regular basis would be Killer’s cats. And I fear it is an exercise in futility.”
“Cats are the boss.” Fell agreed at once. “Ain’t nothin’ ever changin’ that.”
“Well, I think that’s everyone’s rooms.” Blue hummed as they stared at the last unopened room in the place. Large double doors gave way to one of the largest and most comprehensive training rooms Dust had ever seen.
Training dummies lined the wall to the left, an obstacle course to the right, an open area on the far end that looked large enough for three separate spars to take place… There were sections with workout equipment and even an area for showering off when someone was done.
“Oh yeah. Now this is what I’m talking about!” Killer’s grin became as sharp as his knives. “Dusty! You said you’d spar me!!”
Dust was very much regretting that decision now. He gave Killer a look, silently begging him to push it off until later. He was tired. He wanted a nap, preferably in his room where there was some modicum of familiarity.
“Pleeeeease?” Killer widened his sockets.
Dust sighed as Horror gently made a shoulder-patting motion, careful not to actually make contact with him. “Good luck. Try not to kill him. I’m going to start on dinner.”
The other skeletons had already started to retreat into the rest of the house, and Dust gave a heavy sigh. “Fine. Just one round.”
“YES!”
Dust bit back a groan as he watched Killer excitedly bounce from one foot to the other. He had a feeling this memory-watching thing was going to be a very long experience.