After some time of running as far away as you could get from the sick, twisted Nightmare - you finally stopped to take a break. Then you continued onward, moving one step at a time while you wiped your cheeks to get rid of the dry tears. Then you took another break... then you moved forwards again. It quickly became a repeated routine.
Despite every bone in your body, your head would still manage to convince you that you should keep moving forward. That you might just walk through a door and get out. It had never worked for all the years you had been trapped here before, why would it suddenly work now? It was ridiculous. But... you had to have hope, right? It was the only thing keeping you sane, after all.
That, and thoughts of the people that might be back home. You hoped that they were thinking of you. You hoped that they were missing you. You hoped.
... This must be how you felt when you first ended up trapped here. You couldn't remember your first couple of years here, it was all a blur. But you eventually lost hope and your sanity had slipped away, piece by piece.
Rest assured, you weren't going to be sticking around and you would not let yourself be trapped here for hundreds more years.
You weren't some weak, pathetic, girl dressed in rags anymore.
The faint sound of wood being chipped and scratched could be heard, the sound seemed to echo as well as your quiet humming while you kept yourself entertained. You had been using a sharp, metal hook you found on the back of one of the paintings to draw in the wooden floor boards. So far, you had done a skull with a big smile and large flower.
You had been sitting there for a while now, thinking about what you were going to do next. And you didn't mean things that could keep you busy. You meant battle plans. Escape plans.
Going back to Nightmare was an immediate no.
Not to fight him or beg him to let you free, not for anything. Ever.
Nothing was worth going back.
You didn't have your wrench, unluckily, which would have been a great help since it's not only your weapon but it's like your flying carpet. Except it opens portals, you didn't sit on top of it like some kind of witch.
The purple and black patterned glue and your scissors were still on you, attached to your belt but they wouldn't be much help here. For so long, you had no idea what any of these things did but now you remembered.
The glue was used to heal. All you had to do was apply it over any wound and it would heal pretty quick. Not to brag but your magic was strong.
The scissors were another tool for editing. You would mostly use the scissors to edit something out. For example, you could cut away a memory or a feeling. Happiness, sadness, anger - any feeling. Or if Ink made a mistake while creating something then you would simply take your scissors and snip it away. There wasn't much that you wouldn't fix.
That was usually one of the harder things to do with the scissors, especially if you were cutting something away from someone rather than something. That would involve taking the scissors to a soul and... well, you could easily kill them if you didn't do it correctly. You needed a steady hand, for sure.
Your wrench was mostly used to fight, create portals or to add things. Perhaps something good that would replace whatever you had taken away. It complimented the scissors nicely. It would be tough to have one but not the other... And that was currently your problem.
But you would find a way to get out still. There had to be something you could do. You remembered now, you knew what you were doing and you knew you were strong enough to do it. Whatever it was. You had no idea how you were getting out of here yet.
Having your memories back couldn't feel better, you felt whole again, but it had made you considerably more upset too. Remembering everything you've been through, the fight, losing your friends... you really wanted to see them again. You missed Ink and even Error.
Of course, you missed your new friends too. All of the different, new skeletons that you had come to know.
Toriel and... Frisk. Dear, sweet Frisk. You loved that kid.
They were the one that got you out here in the first place, so maybe they could help you?
But... if they could, then why hadn't they already?
You were fairly certain about a week had passed since you had been taken... Maybe they couldn't do anything to help? If they could then surely they would already be here...
Well, you couldn't rely on other people's help anyway. You needed to find a way out yourself, you were sure that you were more than capable now.
With a sigh, you heaved yourself back up off the floor. That was enough of a break for now, time to move again.
Another reason that you kept moving... you didn't want Nightmare to catch up to you. So it was probably a bad idea to stay in one place of a long period of time.
Although, you were pretty sure he knew exactly where you were. Sometimes, you could feel eyes watching you in the darkness. It made you shiver each time you felt it and you would always start running again. Even if you were just being paranoid, you wouldn't take the risk.
Cupping your hands together, you began to try and summon your magic. There was a small crackle for a moment before it fizzled out, as usual. You rolled your eyes and kept trying again as you walked forwards.
For some reason, you were having some trouble doing this.
You got the feeling that it may have something to do with this place. It was like it lacked magic, lacked life. And sometimes, you considered that maybe this place isn't even real. I mean... maybe it's a nightmare?
But then, where was your body if this was all a twisted dream?
Either way, you just couldn't do it. Normally you could simply activate it and it was second nature. The purple magic would surround your hands like wisps of fire and after that, you could use your magic to do pretty much anything.
Even make shapes and objects. Much like Ink and Error's magic, you could make a bone if you wanted and use it to fight although you preferred making things like nails or even hammers. Things that just fit your personality.
When you were alone though... you would often find yourself making butterflies and watching them flutter beautifully around you.
Your mind suddenly went back to Sans and the time you spent with him.
... And that hot, make-out session.
Your face heated up immediately, steam practically rising into the air and you began to quickly slap your face between your hands in attempts to stop thinking about it.
Sans just seemed so normal and casual. He didn't cling to you, didn't bother you or pester you, he wasn't perverted or overly flirty... and when he kissed you...
It felt damn good.
Oh jeez, stop thinking about it.
"something on your mind, broseph?"
You yelped and stumbled back slightly, looking up at the figure leaning against the door frame you were just heading towards.
... What in the multi-verse is that?