Severed Ropes, Wires Torn (ErrorInk)

Chapter 11 - No one here but me to judge me

°。°。°。°THE VOID,ABOUT TWO MONTHS EARLIER。°。°。°。

Death wasn't uncommon for creatures like him.

It wasn't uncommon for any creature, really, they just had different consequences.

Ink had learned a while ago to not be so blase about death around mortals ; for them it was permanent. And for him, The Destroyer and the others it was about as significant as coming down with an illness.

Stars, was it annoying.

He liked it, though.

There was something about this place that made him feel freer somehow, like he was truly alone with his thoughts.

Which Ink supposed was true enough.

The Creators don't talk to him here, maybe they couldn't reach?

Regardless, they never followed him in death.

Error had killed him, this time, before succumbing to his own wounds The Protector had inflicted. He winced thinking of the reaction Blue might have when he returns, the first time he had died since he met him was...messy, even if Blue logically understood that he couldn't leave forever.

And now we wait.

Waiting was always the worst part, even if it was a respite from his usual...supervision, could he call it?

He never thought about it too much.

Maybe he should be, it is something to do after all.

What was so different about his consciousness here that it felt so candid?

The only factor that really changed was that

1. He was dead

and

2. The Creators couldn't reach him.

So it had to be one of those two, probably, if what Sci told him about theorising that one time applied to this.

The latter unsettled him somewhat in the same way that seeing someone unscrew something from a potentially dangerous piece of machinery might make you uneasy.

If he dug into his memories and opinions of people they seemed off.

Up there they seemed so set in stone, carved in such a way that who are you to question it. So basic of a knowledge that he needn't question himself or others.

He hates Error, he dislikes Nightmare and feels pity for his ruffians, he likes Dream and Blue and thinks they are good teammates and friends.

Everyone else is neutral.

And he is The Protector. He projects an image of confidence and assurance to the denizens of the Multiverse, his image alone is a shining reminder and comfort to hundreds thousands billions of monsters and humans and all out and in between.

And he must live up to it, he lives by the book, within parameters of what he should do to protect. It's his duty. It's what he was made for.

Or at least that is how they were when he was alive, it seemed that things felt different here in more ways than one.

Ink thought of The Destroyer, the antithesis to himself, and found he didn't experience a wave of nausea nor fury at the notion of him being.

In fact, the more he mulled on him and those burning eyelights and his ired attacks the more he found himself...confused?

Is that what that feeling is? Yes, it must be.