Phoenix

Chapter 3 - Duties

I didn't properly update for two months. Whoops.

Warning: Death.

Loss.

Sorry about that. If you're uncomfortable with these things, skip Reaper's entire part. It's only some of my most dramatic storytelling in existence, it's fiiiine- but it would be appreciated if you stayed along for the ride.

Ciao.

- HK

Ink was bored. He had nothing to do.

Well, sure, he had three animatics and countless WIPs left unfinished, plus the flute practice he asked Dream to remind him of, but still! He was reaaaaally bored. Error hadn't been trying to destroy as much lately (keyword: trying)... shame, Ink really liked fighting him- wait.

No. Don't think like that. You're supposed to protect AUs, not want them to be destroyed! You don't want them to be destroyed! Protecting AUs is your purpose- wait, oooo the Doodlesphere looks so pretty today! Well, it always looks pretty, but still!

Ink found an unfinished sketch of his home, formerly so empty, so blank-

Ink found an unfinished sketch of his home and got to work, gathering all sorts of supplies. He searched through his few pockets and found a phone, tapping on a small little icon to listen to some renditions of Spooktune the creators made, and instead getting sidetracked for three hours watching psychological horror skits.

A creator reached out to Ink at last, and he jumped up, ready for action, his phone dropped carelessly on the floor.

"Mx. Creator, a multi-universal protector of worlds at your service! What's for today, pal?"

Ink tapped his feet and hummed, listening to some unknown voice carefully. "That's a great idea, buddy! I love it! When do we start?" He listened some more and seemed to melt a little in sadness. The creators were always so afraid of failure... "Well, you don't have to show anyone if you don't want to. Do what's most comfortable for you! Y-you don't have to make an AU if you don't want to, but your ideas are so amazing, the world won't know what it missed! You can do this!"

Ink listened more, standing in silence as he thought of what to say.

"If you fail, you can always do it all over again- that's what's great about creating! When you make this world, you can adjust it however you like. You won't regret making it, but you'll regret not making it," Ink said.

"I've seen many creators gloss over their masterpieces, seeing all of the faults and never the beauty. Please make it... our worlds could really use it. It would make many peoples' days." The protector frowned in worry. The creators were scared. Scared of many things. Scared of failure... of the world, of hate, of people, of their families. He may not be able to feel much compassion, since there's not much in the AUs, but he wanted to.

A pause.

Ink jumped in the air, filled with as much happiness as his non-existent SOUL could handle. "YES!!! CREATOR, YOU WON'T REGRET THIS!" He ran around in excitement, a rapidly vibrating bundle of sunshine. It was the first AU in months! Yes!!!

A few alternate universes away, Dream felt happier than usual. Granted, he never really wanted to feel happy due to its effect on others, but this was a strange kind of happy. Ink's happy.

Dream smiled a little. There was probably an AU in the making. He hoped it would be a more positive AU- the multiverse's balance was tilted in the favor of negativity, however much he and his small ball of joy, Palette, tried to nudge it back to neutrality.

Dream would kill Error if he could- the destroyer of worlds was constantly plagued by voices telling him to destroy and making his life worse overall, from what Ink said. He had so much negativity, it could balance the scale of positivity vs negativity- but Dream's weapons were formed out of his own happy magic. They could only hurt his brother- besides, Error's death would make all the inhabitants of Nightmare's mansion hurt more than ever, driving the final wedge between Nightmare and Dream. They'd never come back from that.

Palette shouldn't know if his dad murdered anyone, anyways. It would only hurt him. Sure, Dream has killed countless Jerrys before, but he doesn't need to know that.

Akfjvkdanfhjken nevermind, just spread positivity, ignore the storylines Ink protects (poor Ink), do your duty, make people happy... but not too happy, not so happy that they'll cling onto you and make you have to leave them and make them sad or that they'll get upset because they think your aura is making them feel happy on purpose-

Sigh.

Just move on, do your job, and everyone will be okay.

Reaper sighed.

Geno had been gone for centuries. His Geno, at least.

The original Aftertale Sans. The one who remembered him. The one he'd pestered relentlessly for countless days, half-dead, dead enough that Reaper would be able to say he was still doing his job, waiting for a death that would never come.

The ones closer to Death knew how important the skeleton was to him- they didn't want another outburst like the one in the start of the Era of Corruption.

When he found out that Geno didn't remember him, he tried everything.

Everything.

He would make a deal with a dEmon before he'd give up on Geno... but even the demon didn't know where the other Sans was.

He made a deal with a different demon. A destroyer. He was a new player in the game of balance, but he was essential.

Don't erase or destroy Aftertale.

Check Geno's codes.

See if it's a copy, because his Geno would never forget about him.

He brought Goth.

Geno didn't know who he was. His own child.

It couldn't have been him, it couldn't be, it can't be, but WH ER E IS H E1/?!// i/

He and Goth were never closer before than that day. The first time they both cried in front of each other.

The first time they broke in front of each other.

The destroyer of worlds finally responded after days of looking through code.

It wasn't his Geno.

He was still expected to do his job.

dust.

so much dust.

so much death, misery, anguish, so many lost SOULs to lead to rest, to calm or reap, so much work.

Reaper only left the home of the gods to work.

Reaper only worked because he lessened his brother's workload.

Reaper only lessened his brother's workload because he cared about him.

Reaper only lived because he was Death.

It was his job, no matter what happened, no matter his state of mind.

no matter who he lost.

It was his duty.

One he didn't want.

One he never wanted, because he witnessed death, Death, himself at work, because his job was to lead these poor souls away from the ones who cared about them too quickly.

Or to lead the poor souls to rest, away from the ones who never cared- or away from no one at all.