Creation Begins with an I, Destruction Begins with an E (Undertale Errink Book)

You're Replaceable

A/N: Alright, long-ish chapter time! Sorry for the lack of updates, I re-wrote this chapter several times. Didn't properly have time to edit it, but if there's a lot of mistakes, I'll go back and make edits.

Some violence up ahead in this chapter. Not too much, but just thought I'd drop a warning :)

Enjoy~!

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"You told him what?" Reaper hissed, looking at Nightmare with wide eyes. 

"I panicked!" Nightmare shouted.

"We need to tell him, he needs to, like, not speak to him!" Reaper hissed.

"If we tell him, he's gonna want to speak to him even more!" Nightmare shot back.

"They're in trouble..." Reaper sighed. 

"I know, and there's nothing we can do." Nightmare sat at Reaper's kitchen table, putting his face in his hands. 

"We have to try. You know what happened all those years ago." Reaper looked down at Nightmare, who was now in the process of dialling Dream's number.

"Yeah, Dream, we have an issue. No, It's not me, it's Ink and Error."

**

Error paused before knocking on the door to Ink's apartment. 'Why?' He asked himself. Nightmare told him it was fine and that this was not Creation that he was speaking to. Error knocked.

After about ten seconds, the door opened, revealing the short skeleton. There were a few flecks of paint, blue in colour, on his face. And on his arms and his clothes...Everywhere. Error snorted, "You, uh, might want to wash your face..."

Ink giggled, "Yeah, maybe. I basically exploded a paint thingy."

"...I see."

"...How about you come in?" The artist stepped aside, smiling. 

The apartment was a mess, like Ink had warned. It wasn't unclean or anything, it  was just cluttered. The first room, clearly the living room, was littered with paintbrushes and small tubes of paint, pieces of paper and pencils, all sorts of art supplies. Error bent down and picked up one of the pieces of paper, turning it over. It was a pencil drawing, black and white. It was of what appeared to be either a moth or a butterfly on a window, behind it was a shadowy city. It was shaded beautifully. "Oh, wow, Ink..." 

Ink blushed slightly and took the picture. "Oh, it's nothing special... I saw this really beautiful, monochrome moth on my window the other day... The city behind it isn't actually a sketch like the moth itself, I kinda made that bit up."

Error raised his 'eyebrows'. "You just came up with that? You drew that with your imagination?"

Ink blushed harder. "Yeah... It's not really one I'm too proud of though..."

Error frowned. "Why? It's beautiful."

"I just... I don't know. Sometimes I like what I make, sometimes I think it could be better. And I really don't like the way I shaded some of that picture."

"Oh, really? I can't draw, so it just looks amazing to me."

"Heh, well thanks...." Ink dropped the picture of the floor, the blank side up.

There was a temporary silence as Error looked at the blank side of the paper for a few seconds, thinking about something unclear to Ink. The artist cleared his throat, "Uh, can I get you a drink or anything? I have coffee, tea.... wine..."