#trombcner

     hff, hff. hff.  keep moving. come on, a few more steps. you can make it. sans will help. sans can help... 

    he’s crying, eyes aflame with a terrible ferocity –– in any other circumstance, he would have found it strange. how can water and fire come from the same source?  but the pain is all he feels. it consumes him, snaking down his arms and chewing at his wrists. his hands are shaking violently, and magic flickers occasionally from the tips of his fingers. it’s too much. too powerful. he can’t control it anymore, it’s EATING him and he doesn’t know how to stop it. oh, god.

                ❛    ss– SANS......    ❜

     it’s pitiful, more of a wail than anything else. his voice cracks in the middle, and drops off into muffled sobbing. he keeps walking, though. the sentry station is a ways off, and he keeps muttering “sans, sans, sans..” like it’ll give him the strength to walk a few more steps. a tree root trips him – he staggers, and falls to his knees, breathing hard. he rubs his eyes, hard, trying to shut off the flames that now sear his eyesockets. not gonna make it. not gonna make it.. he’s whimpering, too quiet to be heard from any distance, but loud enough for him to catch over the hissing and popping of his eyes.