Rising Storm [ Ink!Sans x Reader ]

6. Everything Moves Slowly

The journey had just begun and already it had ended.

How funny, you reflected, was the passing of time. It seemed aeons ago in which you were just another miner in some dusted coal mine, an unimportant piece of code that would never again be remembered should it wither into ash. But then the dream had come, the dream of the painter that had beckoned you home to the Void, to give up everything you had strived so hard to achieve, a normal life, a normal everything.

And you had thrown it all the way the minute you came running out of that crumbling factory, labelled as Public Enemy Number One, your face most likely shown in every universe in existence, every living thing now calling out for your blood. Why had you done such a thing, left on the mere whisper, the mere grasping of something greater, to pursue an escape from the weak and feeble life you had once lived? Maybe the answer lie with that, the prospect of being remembered, being known in the minds of all those in the multiverse, maybe that was why you had left your world in hopes of finding Ink, if saving the entire construction of reality from those that lay claim to its throne.

You were perplexed with Paperjam, the way the child giggled and came up with jokes as if it was a second nature to him, not once comprehending the idea that the two of you may be nothing more than blood and dust within a few hours time. Even when you arrived at the black castle in the distance, the dark fortress that harboured nothing good inside, the little ball of ink and happiness still blubbered about.

"It looks like one of those castles from that human world!" Paperjam squeaked, waving a closed fist towards the fortress. "I've never been there, but Fresh used to show me pictures. He called it something like Disneyland, and there's this really big castle that a lot of humans went to!"

Disneyland? You had never heard of such a thing. Maybe that was a memory that had been wiped from your mind, a memory of happiness that the rulers of the multiverse deemed could not exist in the minds of their subjects and thus erased it all from thought.

"Listen." You knelt so that your eyes met Paperjam's gaze. "I'm going to go inside there, but you can't come. It's too dangerous, I don't want you to get hurt."

"Why not?" Paperjam looked over your shoulder. "What's inside?"

"Ink." The words spilt from your tongue on mere instinct. The truth was, the painter had never been specific about where he was being held prisoner and yet a part of you had known, always known that your journey would end here, whether it be in blood or sacrifice, that was yet to be determined. "He's my friend." Again, that was another phrase that tumbled from your mouth without thought, stating the words as if they were solid facts. But you had never met the artist besides your dream, but even that thought seemed false. You had known him, walked with him in a forgotten time, but when had that occurred? For as long as you could remember you had worked in the coal mines within your hellhole of a universe, mining and working long hours.

"But I'm stronger than you!" Paperjam squeaked in defiance. "I helped you get here here, right? So I should be able to come inside!"

"You can't," you insisted, not wanting to imagine his corpse littering the walls of the castle. "I know I'm not strong with magic - "

"You're really not," the skeleton child agreed.

"But," you interjected sternly, "I still have to try. You're pretty much the only thing that's been nice to me these last few days, and I don't want you to get hurt while trying to help me. The last thing I need is another person - " Your voice halted, the word dying still frozen on your tongue. Memories flashed through your mind, Fresh's writhing form as the blue strings shattered his skull, the purple daemon roaring in the flames, cackling with sadistic glee.