TRIP THE LIGHT FANTASTIC (REVERSE REAPERTALE METTASANS/METTATON X SANS)

THE START OF A NEW LIFE

Day gave in to dusk then bleed into a black night. All of Snowdin was mummified in their thin sheets, eager to escape the death of day, prayers still tingling on their lips with the promise of imagination and good tidings. Small boys clinging to talisman to shield the evil, girls speaking in hushed tones to keep the dead to their slumber, and swaddling babies quiet in respect to the ownership of the night.

Happstablook drifted among his realm- not to view dreams, but to begin a mission.

Snowdin did not really belong to them. No, they didn't hold a desire to rule anything. Nor did the drippy night belong to them- Happstablook usually rented a portion of the night out. Yes, only the dreams mattered to him.

Gods above, just watching the ambition of men roll out before him sent goosebumps up and down his visage. Even if the fantasies are no more legitimate than capering follies upon a stage, the murmur of hopes still bestowed a chill to the Golem of Dreams.

Tonight, Happstablook had to resist the gravitational pull of the dreams, however. Their mind was set on one thing and one thing only.

So, they continued their trek across the mountainous snow, pausing as their elephant feet got stuck in buried ditches. They held each arm on each side as if they were walking midst an earthquake, or murky swamp. Flakes landed forgotten on his broad, rock shoulders. Their screen blazed a path through the treacherous snow toward the shrine.

Why was Snowdin so far away from the Shrine of Life? Snowdin inhabited an aspect of life, yes- mortal endurance. Tenacity against the harsh elements. Hanging by a thread, perhaps, but a thread woven by many grizzled hands. They accomplished this without divine intervention, so the Shrine became less of a palace of hope and more of a commemorative piece. A hotel of decay to the needy and homeless.

Now, however, the Golem of Dreams planned this tower of cold stone to be starting line. A beginning to their story.

Their dream.

Happstablook shoved their own path to the obelisk, the top of it just peaking over a mound of snow. The spire continued its point upwards, and other steeples joined in, a quiver of black arrows to heaven.

When Happstablook came in full view of the Shrine, they realized with a jolt that it wasn't merely a collection of dark stones.

It was a hand.

Happstablook was facing the hand in the middle of its high-five motion, like it was announcing; hey, if you don't like gods, that's cool! No sign of anyone loitering around. No camps, no life disciples, not even tattered travelers with a sense of adventure and curiosity. All the better for them. The fewer mortals see of the Golem of Dreams, the better.

A small slope meandered to a shadowy doorway. Grunting with effort, they lifted each stump onto each stair, growing ever closer to an axis of life. They tried not to pay too much attention to the foreboding nature of the Shrine. No wonder Snowdin was such a distance.

Or maybe it was the fact that-

No. A sickening cold entered his wiring. They refused to think about that right now.

They entered the Shrine, and all emotion had to be flushed out to make room for immense awe. The main chamber was tiny in cathedral standards- but still managed to fit a ten-foot statue of the Life God himself and a pool of frozen water. Happstablook imagined that the pool of water suckling and slapping the edge of the God's feet, but the God himself not betraying any sound.

The statue was shrouded in shadow from the lack of light inside and the twilight outside. Still, they could just make out a short, hooded figure shrugging; his hands splayed and shoulders tense with laughter. A secret grin must be hidden under that cowl somewhere.

Happstablook didn't know what to feel. The Shrine gave of an aura of danger, but inside, the God was welcoming him with open arms. Maybe paranoia was bugging them the Golem again.

Still, shaking off any unease and grinning an inward smile, they knelt before the statue, clasping two meaty claws in a semblance of prayer. They despised the way the rock clicked and rubbed together.

"Life God, hear my plea." They willed their voice to be stronger. "I have been nothing without my cousin. Allow me to see him once more!"

They resisted the urge to add please. No more information needed to be shared. The God surely did not require begging to understand the gravity of the situation. Besides, incorporating please would be like boiling Ramen for a coworker. Well-meaning perhaps, but just as pointless as the food itself. Disgusting.

A pressure weighted on Happstablook's SOUL. If they had any hair or neck, it would've been a forest of goosebumps by now.

A snap of a twig. The Golem of Dreams winced, but knew they would not be able to turn around in time.

Should they say anything? Was anyone even there? Happstablook listened. A faint, pounding echo. Like a pebble skipping stone.

No, that could be footsteps.

Happstablook deepened their voice. "Begone, mortal! The Life God is to see no one at this moment."

"Huh. That's funny. Since when?"

"Since now! He has declared war against all the unfaithful in Snowdin. No one can drag him out of his rage."

A chuckle boomed throughout the small space. "Is that what mortals think of me these days? Wow. I've been outta the program for way too long."

Happstablook froze. No. It can't be. In the flesh?

Maybe he's speaking through a disciple.

Slowly, and carefully, he maneuvered his boulder of a body around, still remaining on their hands and knees. All the while, he attempted causal conversation. "Sir, I'm not sure what you mean... could you-?"

The word elaborate caught dead in his throat. A petite figure donning only an earth-brown robe hovered in front of the entrance, basking inside an outline of blue light, despite the dimness.

The stranger slipped a step forward. His garb clattered and groaned like a defective machine.

"Heya. Your prayers have been answered, Happstablook. Call me Sans for right now, okay?"