[Hiatus] Reincarnated and Soulless, Yet I Create

Exploration 1

"WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE US TO CALL YOU?"

Papyrus was far more observant than I had anticipated. It wasn't so much that I thought he would be wrong— on the contrary, I knew he could have his moments from time to time in spite of his naïve nature— what I hadn't expected, however, was for him to guess what the problem was immediately.

My name was important to me. When I went through so much pain for being myself, I had no choice but to cling to what defined me. The world I was in hated people like me, would have killed me if it could (and it almost did). Long before I had a name for what I was, I faced years of cruelty for being different from everyone else. Is it any wonder that after everything I went through, I wasn't willing to give up the name I had chosen?

Yet, in spite of my resolve, I found myself unable to speak my own name. The word simply didn't come out at all. Even though I could speak just fine before, my name wouldn't leave my mouth.

"Your name is Ink," she had told me, and I had assumed what she was referring to was putting me in Ink's body. I had believed that she merely expected me to preform his role as a Creator. The idea that I was being forced to use his name, or that she expected me to become him had never come to mind. She had been naming me, and I might have no choice but to go along with it... but... I couldn't accept that, not ever. I refused to. I would never accept a name I was forcibly given, not in any body. Never again. If I couldn't speak my true name, then I would name myself something else out of spite.

I tried to think of something, my thoughts pouring over more and more names, yet none of them worked for me anymore. I didn't think I should call myself something like Alex or Charlie; I wasn't human anymore, and I didn't think it made sense for me to have such an obviously human name when so few monsters had human names. That left me with non-human names, whether that meant coming up with a new word entirely, or simply calling myself something I felt represented me, I had plenty of potential names to chose from.

I thought back to the names I had seen used in fanfiction; many alternate versions of Ink would be called things like 'Paint' or 'Acrylic'. It wasn't that different from what she had named me, but it was different enough. I could learn to tolerate it, given time.

With that in mind, I opened my mouth to tell them my new name— yet as I tried to speak, my mouth. Nothing came out. I wasn't able to say a single word. Much like before, the name I had in mind never passed my lips. I found myself at a loss; I was being given a choice between being my true authentic self yet remaining nameless, or choosing obedience at the cost of my very identity. Perhaps that thought might have seemed melodramatic, but given my history it certainly felt true.

"I don't know," I finally answered. Whatever resistance I had planned seemed meaningless in the face of whatever an all-powerful entity might have planned for me. Still, if I chose obedience, I knew it would be the same as giving up my self entirely. If I had to be nameless then so be it; I would choose that over this any day. Nonetheless, I couldn't ignore the possibility that they might try to come up with a name themselves only to end up calling me 'Ink' anyways. "Please don't try to name me yourselves."

The brothers looked at each other, frozen for a moment. Sans gained his bearings first and answered, "well, of course we won't name you 'yourselves' when your name is 'i don't know'."

"SANS!" Papyrus started stomping his foot before he collected himself. "WELL THERE MUST BE SOMETHING WE CAN CALL YOU, OTHER THAN BABY BONES"

"I'm no-" "we might still have that thing, bro" Sans interrupted me before I could correct his brother.

"Papyrus, I'm-" "WHAT THING, SANS?" Papyrus cut me off as well. These two...

"y'know, bro. that thing."

"AH! THAT THING! I WILL HAVE TO GO GET IT BABY BONES. DO NOT FRET, I WON'T BE LONG. I CAN JUST... BOOK IT THERE AND BACK, NYEH HEH HEH!"

Before I could say anything he ran towards his room and closed his door behind him. What followed was several crashing noises, and what sounded like a... tuba? and an... elephant? Before his room fell mostly silent.

"this may take a while." Sans sat on the other side of the couch. "do you want to explore, kid?"

I nodded quietly before looking down at my now cold drink. I hadn't really wanted it in the first place, but Papyrus had insisted it would help. What he expected the drink to help with, I still hadn't figured out. Still, I didn't want to be rude and waste it, and so downed the rest in just a few gulps. I stood up, letting the blanket fall off of me, and went to put the mug in the kitchen.

Upon entering the kitchen and being reminded of the skeletons' comedically tall sink, I froze up again. How exactly was I supposed to get my mug up there? It wasn't I realized Sans had followed me to the kitchen— and had somehow gotten ahead of me to stand next to the trash can— that I finally forgot what I was there for. Strange, I hadn't seen him pass me. Did he want to talk to me or something?

"sorry kiddo, seems you've sunk too low to reach," Sans commented, reminding me of what was in my hand. My face remained deadpan at the pun due to my current lack of emotions. For a moment I thought I saw Sans tense up- no he had tensed up. Was my lack of emotions that off-putting? For a moment I thought about faking a smile to put him at ease, but on upon further consideration I realized that would be a mistake.

In the original game, Sans had been too observant, to the point he could tell the exact number of times you died in a genocide run, or when you had closed the game and opened it again just to 'time travel' to just before he judges you. And all that was without showing any signs of having remembered the resets, something every other main character did. So no, I rather didn't think it was wise to fake your emotions for a man like that, not when I knew he could read me like a book. That didn't make it any easier when Sans looked uncomfortable with me. "what, don't like puns?"

I shrugged. It's not as though I disliked puns, but right now I wasn't capable of finding humor in them. I felt my phalanges brush something only to draw them back when I realized I was touching my sash. Should I? But then I remembered how strong my emotions were right after drinking them and I hesitated. I didn't trust myself not to have a mental breakdown again if I drank blue, nor did I trust myself not to hurt someone if I drank red, not to mention my sudden shift in emotion might make Sans wary of me. Luckily, there was one vial subtle enough that I didn't think I had cause for concern. After weighing my options, I turned away from Sans and drank a quick sip of purple.

The emotions that came from purple, from the extremes of obsession to the much simpler curiosity, seemed subtle enough that I wasn't worried I would do something embarrassing or dangerous, nor did I think I would make Sans suspicious. If anything, it would cure whatever tension he had from my lack of expressions.

"kid?" Sans asked, sounding worried. I took a deep breath and turned back to face him, only to freeze as his sockets went dark for a moment before returning.

"kid, you okay? your eyelight..."

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(Words: 1360)