#selfshiptember25

Original template :

The SOUL glimmers dimly in Gaster’s hands, its usual red shine muted. It emits a dull crimson light into the inky darkness around them, a miniscule beacon of the scientist’s HOPE throughout the depths. How long had it been, then, without its host? A day, a week? Time was nothing in the echoing void around them, but such a period without the angel took its toll on their vessels. The soul gently pulsates again in his bony grasp, warmth filling the scientist as he stares down at it.

Red strings surrounded the heart, stretching on into the infinite heights of the Depths to serve an unseen puppeteer. The strings had found their way onto Gaster as well as he held the SOUL close, weaving around his skeletal hands. Years ago, he may have scoffed at the idea of attaching himself to an experiment in such a way. Cold detachment was his specialty, after all. But the man who may have watched the events of Hometown with such a detachment was long gone, and the one who remained is idly twirling the SOUL’s strings in his fingers, patiently awaiting his ANGEL’s return.

As if on cue, the soul begins to gently glow brighter, growing warm in Gaster’s hands. The light intensifies, glowing impossibly bright as it shifts from red to yellow to pure, blinding white. It rises from his hands, the two dimensional shadow of a body shining as it forms before him.

Due to the nature of their connection, Gaster can never truly see the human’s face, as it is. But nonetheless, the ANGEL’s true form is fascinating. Wings surround the form, blood red as the SOUL. Two of them sit behind their head in a mimicry of hair, framing the void of the ANGEL’s face as it fills with tiny stars. Their body is massive compared to the scientist, stretching out in the DEPTHS that surround them, and their hands alone could scoop Gaster up. The SOUL took its place in the void of the ANGEL’s chest, a beacon against the inky darkness surrounding both figures.

His Angel. Here to grace him once again.