Lost Crown, Lost Self || Captain Palette 2 || part 2 of Cappa!AU || ON HOLD. ||

(11) Had there been? (11)

Palette's eyes grew heavy with every moment that passed, he clutched onto the small circular crown of silver between his skeletal fingers as he attempted to weigh up his options. He just made the solidifying decision to keep pushing this adventure. Hope burning through his body as if it were his own source of energy.

There had been so much going on. He couldn't sleep. Not until he planned. So, he finally just froze for a minute.

Unlike his tired self, his cousin Crescent was quite nocturnal. So he was being kind enough to help guide Palette through the planning phase.

"So let me get this straight." Crescent shifted on his backside, adjusting himself to be more comfortable against the bed frame as the pair sat on the floor, a piece of scrappy paper before them using Palette's ability to decorate it as needed.

"... You need a moment to recollect yourself. You've got the crown, but don't want to return it to your grandmother."

"Our grandmother." Palette corrected him with a smile, to which Crescent cringed.

"... And you also don't have a way of escaping this hell of a home because Reaper left you behind. So, you plan on trying to make a paint portal which will lead you to the place that your other dad Ink will be, or if things go worse... My uncle. You want to.. What? What does that say?" Crescent pointed at some smeared texta words.

"Steal Broomie."

"You still haven't explained to me exactly who or what Broomie is."

Palette's smile reached his eyes as he began to explain his dad's connection to this brush. As the explanation continued on, Crescent looked more and more sure that he was conversing with a lunatic.

".. Right. And what will that brush do for you then? There's really no point in you taking it since everything you need for this plan is right here." Crescent tilted his head, a sense that Palette over complicating things must've been usual for him.

How could someone contradict themselves so much? Someone so impulsive, yet such an over thinker.

"Well, if I can duck around the AUs. I can find some supplies to help with my back up plan. Maybe I can find some old Dreamtale people, or maybe I can find someone that Nightmare knew in the past. Someone to help him snap out of it. My dad, Dream won't be the one. It's clear they hate each other. Did yours ever have a childhood friend?" Palette questioned.

Crescent narrowed his eyes in silent thought. The pause filled the air before he spoke again. "No. I don't think Nightmare has ever told... Anyone about what he was like as a kid. Which... Leaves us with no options."

Palette nodded. "So I can just... Ask around?"

"and that's how you ended up getting in a shit situation." crescent pointed a finger at him. "You trust people too much. You can't just 'ask around'. You need to act as if the world is against you, then you'll make it out of this." He was sharp, blunt but the honesty that Palette needed.

The sunshine skeleton sighed.

"but even so, I kind of need to apologize to Broomie anyways." Palette frowned, the horrifying snap of wood echoing behind his eyes and inside of his skull.

"stars, you're insane." Crescent muttered.

"Fine. I'll try and help you make a portal. But we don't exactly have portal magic. So, we're going to have to plan around this. Maybe trick one of father's goons... If I can sneak you past them. We can-."

"Sci!" Palette clasped his hands together. "Sci can help us out!" He smiled, recalling the moment where he was surrounded by horrifying creatures beyond mortal comprehension in the True Lab.

Crescent's tentacle flickered slightly. "Who?"

"Scientist sans. He helped me get here. So he can help me get out!" Palette nodded. The two continued to plan throughout the night. Although, it wasn't long until Palette passed out on the floor.

Crescent shuffled the idiot under his bed. He was not sharing with a stranger.

[...]

And as if nothing had changed. Palette was sitting back on the boat.

That small, dingy wooden boat stained with the tar water surrounding him alone.
Again.

The grey sky darker than last time. Had this dream been changing?...

Now, it was more symbolic of a shadow stretching forevermore across the horizon. Palette's eyes nervously darted around. Almost every time looking around this boat to see something to aid him.

To get to shore.

To stop the inevitable flooding.

There was nothing.

The S.S. Palette did nothing but bounce against the waves. The oars obviously long discarded...

His expression turned upside down. His frown growing tight as he lifted his knees against his chest. Sinking his head into his legs.

What had he done to deserve this?

Why couldn't it stop?

He hadn't gotten a proper in months. Even when he was grounded, the nightmare didn't end. It never did.

Was he cursed?

Cursed to feel the water in his lungs forever?

And as if comedically on cue. The sound of bubbling occurred. He felt his soul sink, but despite how much he wanted to give up on this sinking boat. He returned to trying to plug the hole.

Forcing the heel of his boot against it worked for a moment. But, 'water' began to spill past that.

That.. Worked for a moment.

If Palette kept calm, instead of panicking like usual... He...

He actually kept the water at bay for a moment.

His star pupils widened, excitement filling his body. If he just takes a different approach... Maybe this boat won't sink!

But, he had to get out of this internal monologue as the boat was filling with that disgusting black water and as quick as lightning.

First, he took off his scarf and tried to use that to plug the hole. Which immediately got soiled and was now sticky.

Ew.

The water was. Now up to his half of his tibia. The broken bones underneath the pants he wore felt the cold, thick sensation of this slime.

And the boat continued to sink, the water rising rapidly.

He was out of options now.

Great.

He stood up, quick. It was too late to climb onto his seat as the water rose.

The water devoured him once more. His hat falling from his head as the liquid clung onto his body like a slick oil.

His eyes burst open, looking for that crown..  He found the shining object glittering above him as if it had materialised for convenience.

He fought against the stick, attempting to swim up to clutch it. If he held his breath long enough... He might!

No!

It barely missed his reach, just barely above his fingertips.

He went to yell out, but as expected. His mouth and throat flooded in with this tar as he suffocated.

He tried to scream, but his head was underwater.

As it filled his ribcage with a lack of oxygen. His eyes looked up one more.

Wait. Had there been something besides the crown this entire time. It was hard to tell since it was transparent.

But it was.. Oddly sphere shaped.