err0r oneshots

SOUL

NomNomNom

Walking around the empty halls, his mind was blank but his soul felt like it was on fire. His foot burned as he limped with a stick as a replacement leg. It had given out and refused to regenerate after a few days so they settled for a temporary replacement. Coming to a stairway, he only stared it down before grabbing the banister and putting most of his weight on it. Going down one step at a time, stick leg before the other, he made it halfway before a figure reached his step and held his hand, "What're you doing out of bed?"

It was Dust. A constant wanderer at night like most of the insomniacs living here. Their quaint house was always still quiet at night. He didn't know what he was doing or where he was going now that the other was here but he looked concerned. "Let's get you back to bed" grabbing his sleeve he gently pulled Error back up the stairs but he refused to move. Dust looked at his sockets which were wide and distant. He tried to pull him upstairs again, and Error's legs caught him as he stepped up. Sighing, he knew he couldn't just grab the other's soul to make this easier as it was frail. More sensitive than before. After all these years of fighting and losing hope he never had his shard of a soul cracked. But after an ambush by the Council, his soul finally caved. The sound was heard throughout every universe and through the void. An attack from Ink to the chest broke through his soul as his shard became a halved fragment and the small light it had left faded. His body seized and he passed out soon after. His body was limper than a dead body which was chilling for a Monster. Nightmare and those working under him gathered his body and separated bones instead of attacking as they found the trap AU. Every other judge in the AU was stunned in silence as they stared at the escaping villains.

-=effortless flashback=-

Ink felt the crack the most, it echoing around his empty chest where his soul would lay. Especially with his close proximity to Error, he was practically stunned and later passed out after Nightmare left. It was only days after that he woke up, and unlike most things, he remembered every part of the trap AU. He especially remembered the concluding parts like Error's soul breaking. It was haunting to think of and made him lightheaded as he took steps out of his bed. Looking around the house he resided in, he recognized it as Dream's house in the Omega Timeline. Walking around while using the walls for support, he heard conversations in the Council hall of the palace. Dream's place was huge, with the outside practically representing a castle. He originally wanted something small as his life before the Multiverse was minimalistic but the residents had insisted that he have a giant home where good doers can mingle and help in stopping the evil that plagues the Multiverse.

Thinking about the said "evil" got Ink thinking of Error. His bones were different colors and he was taller than any skeleton traveling around the Multiverse.  Scars littered his frame, cracks and dents lined his skull. It looked like his right humerus was always broken, hanging onto nothing yet his arm still functioned. Every step he took must've been hell. His magic was static yet fierce in character. It screamed destruction and instability yet there was  control to the chaos. Error controlled his own magic, it always felt and seemed like it'd backfire on him at any point but he kept it in check. Looking at the Error they beat to near death, he was more stoic. Calm. Even with entire worlds against him. He stood his ground. He was less psychotic as he was back when he started his destruction. He was crazed and determined to kill off everyone. His movements were quick and precise. Sharp turns and bones just as is. He acted like a god. Like he was above everything and everyone.

Now he seems more like a puppet.

That was the only thing Ink could compare him to. It wasn't fitting for such a high being. Like Ink, he was a God. Immortal to most things like poisons, falling, falling objects, hunger, thirst, and many other things.  For such an immortal God being compared to a malleable puppet, an object of imagination and a form of entertainment. Something that is not alive and maneuvered through strings. It's dehumanizing. Objectifying. Humiliating really. Ironically, strings are his main weapon of choice.