Severed Ropes, Wires Torn (ErrorInk)

Chapter 3 - Green or Blue, I'll let you choose.

Ink finds himself among dreams of radio static and RGBs and weirdly, nothing at all.

When he awakes he is pulled from it like he came up for air after diving 100m, adjusting to the change in pressure blearily.

Inks arms felt heavy, and he could scarcely feel one of them, which was worrying.

Craning his pounding head up slightly he saw something fuzzy and coloured charcoal-navy with a dust of shimmer.

It calmed him a bit, reminded him of Outertale.

There was a hum of something like static electricity outside where he was curled up on a...bean bag? It seemed familiar, well...more felt.

When he breathes in it comes out shaky and when he tries to steady his breathing it's shallow and laboured.

It takes him what feels like minutes for his breaths to finally appear even and relaxed, though it was probably only a few seconds knowing himself.

Now that Ink's head felt more clear and ready for existing, he started to pay more attention to his surroundings.

When Ink breathed through his nose he could smell fried wiring and he felt he was wrapped in something that gave the sensation of a buzzing artificial heat.

And it tickled a little. Heehee.

His legs were not bound but he felt as if moving them would be a terrible mistake. They felt inflamed or something... dastardly sensitive to the slightest movement, it made him want to just go back to sleep.

Now that all of these were assessed, his mind started to catch up, if a bit sluggish and with an unusual gait.

He must've gotten hurt. How? Why? Where was he now?

It took him a few moments to gather the scraps of what he retained from last he awoke and -

. . . oh. He remembered now, a little... his memory only seemed to be where he'd felt the most and used up the most paint, which made sense. Ink remembered feeling magenta and green separately, but strongly enough to have retained them both.

But then why was he here? In the Antivoid? With Error? On his furniture? What would happen now? He'd never gotten around to inquiring that far before he'd passed out.

Would Error kill him?... No. He wouldn't, he remembered he'd sounded so...scared. Saying what he couldn't remember... he'd only retained an echo that never quite got clear enough to comprehend, the cadence was slipping from him already.

Error wouldn't've brought him here just to kill him.

Ink was surprised at how confident he was about that fact.

Which was strange because that's what Error should have done or what he should be doing right now. He should have been elated back in that AU when he'd lost consciousness rather than what looked to be downright petrified.

Ah, but nothing was like how it should be right now, was it?

Ink gathered up enough strength in at least one of his arms (not only was it numb but when he moved it, it twitched and screamed in pain, definitely broken. How inconvenient.) to haul himself up somewhat, which proved difficult with the material he was cushioned on and the fact that it was one arm taking the entirety of his body weight.

He grunted, managed to gather himself into a half-seated position and started patting around himself as his fuzzy eyelights scanned the area.

He could recall most of this, but it never hurt to be sure. That, and the variety of textures helped him come to his senses more (literally, heh).