Severed Ropes, Wires Torn (ErrorInk)

Chapter 8 - Only plastic flowers never die...Here comes the sun...

(full chapter title is 'Only plastic flowers never die...Here comes the sun, am I falling up?' ...Wattpd has a title limit ;/)

Error didn't know what he expected when he stepped out in the AU that he had attacked not too long ago in a disguise and cover name along with his previous-enemy-turned-confusing-ally, but he certainly didn't expect for the AU to be doing...

Fine! great,actually.

It was kind of fucked up how well they were doing,there was even kids running around!

It had snowed recently (It was Snowdin,after all) so the snow creaked under his flats like an unoiled door hinge.

Ink - Pup - clung to his arm, to keep balance surely, no other reason.

The residents of the AU gave the pair curious looks but nothing else, not even when they trudged in the opposite direction of where the town was.

A wispy cloud of breath came into view from the skeletons side in the form of an amused huff.

'I don't think they'll be here.'

Error rolled his eyelights and tugged him along to where he thought the general area was (on the cusp of Waterfall,surely),grumbling,

'S-s-so we came all this way fo-for nothhh-ing?'

Ink flailed,phalanges bunched in the front of Errors - Faes - hoodie.

'No,no. Don't say that! We can go portal hopping! Look for it!'

...

Once again,that was the most logical and reasonable solution. ugh,that was annoying... Logical solutions were HIS thing!

'...I gu-guess-ss so. Oh, we're he-here, I think.'

The Destroyer's shadowed eyelights searched the snowy area - next to that evergreen - and found nothing of interest, shocker.

The recent snowfall had covered all of the evidence of their...confrontation. That and it was old news by now,having happened weeks ago.

Ink didn't let go of Error's arm as he inspected the area more closely,kneeling down with his knees to his chest as he picked at the snow.

The other stared at it for a while, it seemed surreal to be back at a place they had fought. He hadn't unlocked any memories in which he did that, but if he were to guess most of those battlefields didn't exist anymore.

A weird state to be in, to be destroyed beyond repair - There but not anymore - and only existing in memory and memorial. There was a sort of forlorn beauty to that. Ghosts of the past.

As The Destroyer of Worlds, he must've made a lot of those - not that he would have remembered. It wasn't him,not really. - and he must've been prevented from making a lot of them. By the stubby skeleton raking through the snow beside him, no less.

Oh, as usual, all his thoughts turn to Ink.

He really doubted he would find anything running his phalanges through fallen snowflakes, but who was he to spoil his fun?

Pup's hand drifted down his clothed arm to take his hand. His bones were chilled to the touch and Error brushed it off like it was a layer of dust, rubbing up and down individual phalanges with his thumb and furrowing his browbones in thought.

Was Ink always this touchy with people? Fae knew he was very tactile and hell he was too, but it was very startling when you've gone most of your existence up until about a few weeks ago characterised by touch being an inherently violent action done only by people who want to hurt him and to people he wanted to hurt.