Skeleton Ghost

Gaasyendietha

The earth smelled rich beneath his talons, leaves crunching pleasantly as the lush undergrowth rustled in his passing, trees dully roaring with the wind, birdsong echoing in his senses as he galloped by. The air was intoxicating, every breath tinged with something that was not smoke, but not steam either. His tail scraped the bark off trees in his passing, the sensation dulled in his wild excitement.

He belonged here, in the wild, free and uncaged. The world was not quite itself, and that was alright. He would make it better. He wasn't quite sure how, but as he bounced through the forest, he knew.
On two feet, he didn't believe he should be anything important, but on four he was more.
...On four, he was hungry.

It was an odd thing to realize, but it didn't matter. Free. Thoughts weren't important. Who he was faded in value, concerns drifted away as his feet pounded the earth, full of endless energy, a gift from the world.

He sped up momentarily as he approached a river, only to leap into the air, arching over to land solidly on the other side, stumbling briefly as human voices cried out in alarm, glancing back at a boat on the water.
It didn't matter. They were only humans. What harm could they do? He meant no harm himself.

He turned and continued prancing through the woods, breathless in delight. Trees, bushes, grasses, shrubbery, all were familiar. Reminiscent of home. What home?

A wilder place. A land older than this one, much older, yet forevermore young. A place only in memory now, a place in dreams. Brighter, fresher, balanced. Beasts of scale, beasts of feather, of fur, of more, those that were part of and watched over the land, and the simple ones that lived off it, ignorant yet blissful in their smallness.

He distantly remembered scales as blue as the ocean, glinting in the pale glow of lightning as it flashed through the night, striking the water and lighting it up in all directions, waves the size of small mountains roiling in the wind and rain in the dark of night, breaking apart wooden vessels that trespassed in his waters.

He sighed, the memory breaking apart into fragments, cut through with moments of shivering in the dark, dank caverns that dripped endlessly, alone. Of clinging to another with the fierce desire to protect them from his own pain, of struggling to stay close to another that drifted away without any good reason, of being cast aside for not being needed anymore.

Memories of the desire to put effort into anything anymore on both parties abruptly draining away, giving up to lonely and empty fates. Memories of trying to speak and failing, confused and trying again and again, quickly cast aside for perceived reasons that could not be further from the truth. Of remaining indignant, frustrated in isolation until abuse turned thoughts to the mountain where children didn't come back.

He abruptly slammed his back feet into the ground to slide to a stop, suddenly jolting back into a more present frame of mind. Napstablook blinked, trying to hold onto the memories flitting away from him as Sans flinched and lashed out at something grabbing him, struggling to return to himself. Frisk was left to try to pick up the pieces before they could vanish, stunned by the fading recollection.
Something isn't what it should be. He realized.

. • ° . • ° . • °

"Ow, fuck." Undyne cursed quietly, gripping her hand. Alphys flinched at the surprising amount of blood, glancing at Sans as the skeleton groaned, holding his skull. At least he seemed awake now.

"Undyne, are you alright?" Toriel quested, stepping forth to heal the shockingly deep gash in the fish lady's wrist.
"Yeah, it's fine. I just.. is something wrong with Sans? He somehow cut me."

"He appears to have claws." Abbadon noted, crouching over the short one as he checked the blood-specked hand.
"Since when? Sans doesn't have claws." Undyne scoffed, unbelieving.
"I am aware of that. Few skeletons have claws, and he was not among their number."
"What, you're saying he just sprouted them?"
"..It would seem that he did."