Do You Get It?

Smoke

"Hey, I think I found something." I hear Ink say as I continue to stare at the knitted square. "Uh, cool." I say without thinking. "Error, did you just hear what I said?" Ink says, discovering that I had zoned out and was paying no attention to him. "What?" I reply, my head snapping to attention.

"I found something about the machine in the notes." Okay, that really is something I should have listened about. My eyes go wide and a sense of hope trills my soul. I move over next to him and stare at the page he's holding. It has a sketch of some sort of machine. The same machine that was in the lab. There were a bunch of symbols next to the drawing, probably indicated what it does. But just like most of the things that are going on right now, I don't understand it.

"Well, that's great. Now we know the person who worked in that Lab, intentionally made that machine." I say, my voice leaking with sarcasm. "Well yes, that and if we can somehow find the person who wrote this, then we can see if what happened can be reversed." Ink justifies. I can't help but only feel a false sense of security try to comfort me. What kind of person would want to make a machine like this in the first place. Make something with the intent of switching bodies? What's the purpose of that?

"Who do you think could have written this?" I ask, taking the paper from his hand. Even though it may have been an older piece of paper I have found, the age it was actually written must have been a lot longer. "I'm not really sure, but maybe Asgore would be the best bet." He says brining out another sheet from the pile. There on the right hand corner of the weathered paper is the royal family crest. It seems to be a report of some kind. Written in the symbols, addressed to the royal family.

But which one? "Which AU was this one made for?" I ask also taking that one from his hands. I take a better look at the symbols, with repeating words and phrases. Looks like I've stumped Ink with my question, for he waits a minute before answering. "I'm not really sure." He says, confused with himself. I mean he dreams of weird symbols and writes them down, how can that not be weird. "But I don't think I have ever made them for an AU." He says thinking about the subject. If he didn't make them as an add on to an AU, then what are they? Somehow the piece of paper in my hands feels like a start to a much darker story.

I always thought he intentionally made them all to be different. Some sort of fun way to spice things up. Or maybe he knew that I was taking them and decided to play along with the twisted game. One of me saving something out of every AU I demolish. But from the fact that he is so enthralled with the papers, has me wondering. Does he even remember making them?

"Then why did you make the papers? I found them in AU's you've made." I point out. His non existent eye brows deepen in concentration. "I didn't make them for an AU." He repeats to himself. I can't tell if he's thinking back in his memories, or if he's slowly going insane. But before I can stop his deepening train of thought, I see a shooting pain go through his head. The pain is kicking back up again. With every dropped paper and every wince of pain, I come nearer to a conclusion. He needs to destroy.

I have to lean forward to grab my solution. Somehow even though I am in Ink's body, my curse still plagues me. I hold the knitted square, the first thing I have ever created. Defying a fundamental truth I have believed since day one. I can't create. And now due to unconventional circumstances, can't has evolved to shouldn't.

"Ink give me your hand." I order, the newly charged emotion leaves me. And I come back into the role of an apathetic error. "Now channel the pain," I say holding his wrist with my good hand. "Now release." I teach. Flame emits from his palm. Ink's tightly closed eyes then become less painfully glued shut. He still won't open them, and knowing how sharp this pain can be, he won't open them soon.

In stead I hold the knitted square in my hand and dangle it over the flame. It seems that I still have to destroy, but at least it is something that I've created. I hold the square by one corner and with a tired sigh, I release.

The smoke that billows upward seems to mock me. It laughs at even in the creators body, I still destroy. But I knew it had to be done. Ink slowly opens his eyes, the pain ebbing away. And incomes curiosity. He watches the flame goes out. And in his hand is the ashes of the string. His confusion is as powerful as my emptiness. And I am actually scared of when this has to happen again. When I have to put time and effort into a skill, and then watch it all burn away. And I know Ink doesn't want this to happen again either.

His realization is as powerful as the path of destruction plays out to be. Even when his hollowed out terrified eyes look into mine. There is a mutual understanding. He creates to keep balance within himself...

And I only destroy to stay alive.