Wild-Caught /ˈwīldˌkôt/ ~ adjective ~ (of an animal) taken from the wild rather than bred from captive stock.
Not all monsters were sealed away under a mountain. Some managed to survive the war. Barely alive and scared, the last of the monsters hid themselves away in the wild. Many perished in the harsh wilderness. Only those who adapted lived.
However those who survived changed. Transformed into something that could not be taken back. They became something… new. Something different.
They grew into wild beasts. Beasts shrouded by legend and fiction before the stray monsters came along. Mermaids, fairies, dragons, and many more went from mere folklore to reality.
Soon, instead of hunting monsters because they feared them, humans began to hunt them for their uniqueness. No longer monsters, but something strange and forgein. In managing to survive, they became something even lesser in humans’ eyes. Yet humans desired these special creatures even more, many of the reasons twisted.
Humans didn’t care, they were selfish. Mermaids were caught in nets and had their scales torn off one by one. Dragons were killed for their hearts and their eggs smashed because of the precious metals that made up the shells. Fae had their wings torn off and placed up on display. If it was mythical, humans hunted it.
In response the creatures hid even more, and in doing so became more desired for their rarity and beauty since they were seen so little. Even when monsters were freed from the underground, the creatures had refused to come out of hiding. Centuries of being hunted had made them wary. Time passed and hunting lessened, but humans never stopped searching.
Sans was one of these so called creatures. Instead of a pair of legs, he had a thick tail made up of magic. His scales were a light blue, and when the sun shone just right they glittered like the richest of gems. His fangs were long and sharp, ready to inject a lethal venom at any time. Not many have seen Sans in action and lived to tell the tale. Sans’s deadly venom made that feat quite difficult.
He was what humans called a Lamia, a half monster half snake creature. And he was a skeleton monster at that. A rarity even among monsters and mythical creatures.
Currently Sans wasn’t living up to his title. Like. At all. He had, admittedly, made some dumbass choices. Such as actually letting his lifestyle get to him. Mythical creatures were typically solitary in nature, and Lamia especially so due to their venomous nature. Because of these reasons Sans had grown pretty lonely over the years.
He’d always been by himself, his only company being hunters who wanted him dead. Murdering them was a necessary evil, but Sans got tired of it. He just wanted to be left alone with at least one companion to starve away the loneliness. He wanted a friend who he could spend his days with, if only just to tell each other dumb jokes.
Papyrus changed everything when he came crashing into Sans’s life. After so many hunters ringing his doorbell for a chance at his pelt, Sans had immediately taken a liking to the monster. So, foolishly, he let Papyrus live. He had been the friend that Sans had always wanted. He was kind and thoughtful, and when he came around he hung out with Sans for hours.
Time that had been spent lazing around doing nothing changed into time Sans would spend with Papyrus doing something new or chatting up a storm (Sans loved trying out all of his jokes on the other, and Papyrus’s faked outrage always tickled Sans’s funny bone). Sans began to look forward to Papyrus’s visits, even going as far as to wait eagerly at their meeting spot far earlier than needed.
That had been the worst decision he had ever made. And that was saying something, because he’d made a lot of stupid mistakes.
Papyrus had been special. At least… Sans had thought Papyrus was special. He’d hoped that Papyrus would be the one who would see him for more than his scales. Turned out, wishing on a star never did Sans any favors.
He should have never allowed the monster to see him (as accidental as it was), much less talk to him. Sans should have bitten the other and that hadn’t worked, made his getaway that very day. If he had been smart and kept his head on straight, he might not have felt so trapped right now.
He definitely wouldn't be nestled away in a system of tree roots. Trying not to make a peep and his soul beating hard enough that it felt like the loudest thing in the forest. At the very least Sans had managed to keep his bones from rattling. Though he couldn’t help the small tremors that raced through him every couple of seconds, but thankfully those weren’t audible.
“Sans!” It echoed through the forest like thunder. Sans flinched, tail curling tighter into the roots. It was borderline painful at this point.
“Sans please come out! We can talk about this like adults! I promise I won’t do it again!” Dirty liar.
Papyrus didn’t even have the courtesy of facing Sans head on. Hell, he’d given Sans drugged prey in the hopes that it would slow him down. Too bad Sans had tasted something off with the meat and turned it down after the first couple of bites.
Sans should have suspected Papyrus immediately, but he’d trusted that it was just bad meat. Fat chance.
Sure Papyrus had acted like it was no issue, but now that he looked back on it, the other had seemed to grow more tense at that point. Like a wire drawn taunt. Until he had snapped.
Sans could still feel the cool metal cutting into his throat, another tool quick to hook around his tail in an attempt to hold him in place. Only the slightest loosening of the hold after Sans had whimpered in pain had given him the chance to escape.
“I will find you Sans.” Papyrus’s voice echoed once more.
Sans tensed, eyes wide.
That had been close.
Papyrus was getting close.
Oh stars he was getting close. It was far too late to run away now. Even if Sans tried, whatever Papyrus had fed him was definitely kicking in now. He was in no condition to run. What was he going to do if Papyrus found him?
What would Papyrus do if he found Sans?
Sans turned his face to the tree, eyes prickling. Shit. Maybe the meat was a little more potent than Sans had thought. He was starting to feel really, really dizzy.
Sans almost gave himself whiplash at the speed his head snapped towards the entrance.
There he was, squatting down as he peered into the tiny cave where Sans had managed to entangle himself within. He wasn’t even three feet away now. Just within grabbing distance. If he wanted, Papyrus could reach in and tear Sans from his hideyhole. It’d be all too easy for the strong skeleton.
The pounding in Sans’s soul grew to a roar.
With a gentle tilt of his skull, Papyrus smiled. How something could be so sweet, yet so threatening was beyond the lamia. Sans could make out every single one of his pearly white teeth.
A soft chattering filled the air.
It took Sans a moment to realize the noise was coming from himself. He was rattling. Like a frightened nestling. It was downright pathetic.
“There you are, Sans.” Papyrus had no right to look that soft, his eyes kind and almost relieved? How cruel.
“You thought you could hide from the great Papyrus? Silly snake.” He teased.
The faintest hiss escaped Sans. He felt as threatening as a kitten.
Of course, Papyrus only smiled wider in response.
“Now come here, it’s time to go.” He reached his hand out, fingers spread and palm to the sky. Welcoming and open in all the right ways but for all the wrong reasons. Sans eyed his hand like it was a bear trap, ready to snap shut at the slightest hint of movement.
Sans had to admit that he wasn’t a very determined lamia. Giving up was sort of his motto in life. Why try when you’re destined to fail, right? Even so, Sans still found enough strength left in himself to keep going. Maybe it was the fear talking. Adrenaline does crazy things.
So, despite knowing how futile struggling was at this point, Sans shook his head in denial.
Still shaking his head, he leaned closer into the wall of roots. Maybe if he got close enough to the tree it’d come to life and swallow him whole. That was one way to escape from this nightmare.
Papyrus frowned, bemused, before shrugging, “Fine, be that way.”
Then his gloves were on Sans’s tail.
“Nhno!” It was the first word Sans had managed to say all day.
Papyrus didn’t even pause. His hands were warm even through the gloves. He made quick work of the mess Sans had made of his tail, untangling it from the roots with ease. No matter what Sans did to slow him down. Lunging at him, hissing, even attempting to tangle himself further. Nothing worked. Even trying to bite him failed miserably.
Soon Papyrus had a nice, firm grip on Sans’s tail. The tug wasn’t harsh, but it was still enough to send Sans into near hysterics. He clawed at the ground for purchase, but nothing halted the slow pull.
“No no no no nonono-” In his blind panic, Sans only made it easier for the other to drag him out into the open.
A flash of red streaked across his eyes, and without thinking he snapped forward and bit down as hard as he could. Papyrus grunted, and for a second Sans was sure that in his panic he’d actually managed to get the other. WIth that realization came an odd mixture of hope and horror. Stars what if he actually hurt Papyrus? What if he hadn’t? But what if he had?
Lost in his panic fueled what-if scenarios, Sans flinched hard when something brushed against his skull. Focusing his eyelights, Sans was met with Papyrus’s patient stare. Crossing his eyes to look down his nose, Sans saw that he’d latched himself onto Papyrus’s glove. He bit harder, testing the material. Nope. No give. Just thick leather.
Clearly, he was more than fine.
Manually unhinging Sans’s jaw to free his hand was all too easy for the skeleton. Venom drooled from Sans’s mouth, responding to his fear. He didn’t get a chance to bite again. Something was slipped over his head, covering his mouth with ease. He reached up, only to have his hands caught and bound. Despite himself, Sans whined softly.
“Shhh, you won’t be restrained for long.” Papyrus said, latching whatever was on Sans’s face around to the back of his skull.
It was firm, looping around both sides of his face with another strap winding around his nose and going up his forehead. There was some give, enough for Sans to slip free if he had the use of his hands. However whatever Papyrus was doing involved tightening it, because soon it was flush against his skull. When Sans’s head was finally freed, he tried to paw at the thing to no avail.
A gloved hand pet his skull, and Sans wanted to struggle but he was too dizzy now. Slumping into papyrus with a whimper, Sans had to admit that the petting was nice.
The whole world spun on its axis, but Sans was helpless to stop it in its tracks. When it was done, Papyrus was on his feet walking in some random direction. Fine then. Sans did what he was best at. He gave up and did nothing. He just wanted the spinning to stop.
"I know you're feeling pretty loopy, but it will go away soon." Papyrus almost cooed.
His arms were warm where they pressed Sans against his equally warm body. It was impossible to stop his tail from wrapping around the other in search of more warmth. That seemed to please Papyrus.
“For now though, let’s get you home.”
Struggling proved futile.
No matter what Sans did, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get away. He might as well have been fighting against the air itself. The drugs only made him weaker.
Clearly, Papyrus felt the same way because he thwarted all of Sans’s attempts with a soft hum. After shoving the lamia into the front of what Sans assumed was his car, he proceeded to start it.
Having never been close to any sort of vehicle, much less inside of one, the noise alone made Sans want to clap his hands over the sides of his head. He couldn’t do that though because his hands were bound. Everything was just too much for the little snake to handle.
Apparently noticing this, or having planned on doing so in the first place, Papyrus lifted him up and started pulling a soft black sack over his tail. Sans struggled, but the sack swallowed him up with ease. Soon the world disappeared, replaced with cool darkness. Even the sounds had been muffled a great deal.
He couldn’t get out of the bag when he tried, but at least he could breathe a little easier. The drugs made it next to impossible. Despite himself, Sans started to relax. He was so tired. Maybe he should rest his eyes for a bit? Try and save some of his strength?
Woozy, Sans curled up the best he could and hugged his tail. Just a few minutes, then he’d start looking for a way out again. He just needed a few moments to recover.
Sans passed out.