Create And Destroy (Error X Ink)

A little talk (part 2)

The pervasive, unsettling quiet of the Anti-Void pressed in on them, a vast expanse of stark, unforgiving white. The eternal silence was only ever truly punctuated by Error's glitching speech, a broken symphony against the nothingness.

"You c-came from tHe anti-void a-as well, c-correct?" Error's voice whirred, breaking and distorting with each syllable, a habit born of his very existence. He cast a quick, almost nervous, glance around the infinite blankness that stretched in every direction, as if expecting something to materialize from the oppressive emptiness. The Anti-Void was his domain, yet it always felt like a prison.

Ink, ever the calmer of the two, even without the steadying influence of a soul, responded with a soft hum. "Yes... I woke up here, just like you. But I didn't feel like anything was wrong with me, not initially. Just... blank. I simply wandered around at first, adrift in the endless white." He paused, a flicker of memory in his multi-colored eyes. "Then, I realized I had paint. My brushes, my vials, they simply... appeared. You know what happened afterwards, don't you?" His gaze implicitly referenced the sprawling multiverse, the endless creations born from his unique existence.

Error gave a slow, deliberate nod, the motion stiff, almost pained. He didn't need Ink to elaborate. His mind replayed the warped, static-filled memory of the first AU he'd ever stumbled upon, the first "anomaly" he'd felt compelled to unravel, to erase. It was a raw, primal urge, much like Ink's own to create.

"I d-d-don't underStand," Error stammered, his voice scrambling worse than usual, the question truly bothering him. "How are we the o-only ones tO come from tHe anti-void? T-this p-place... it's just... emptiness. How did anything originate here?"

Ink brought a thoughtful finger to his chin, his non-existent brows furrowing in concentration. He truly pondered Error's question, his mind sifting through countless facts and logical deductions, yet finding no satisfactory answer. Finally, with a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head, he shrugged, a universal gesture of uncertainty that transcended even the void.

"Perhaps..." Ink began, his voice softer, slightly hesitant. "Perhaps... We don't belong?"

The words hung in the air, heavy and unsettling. Error flinched, his eye lights narrowing to pinpricks. "What do Y-y-you meAn?" he demanded, his voice cracking, a raw edge of panic creeping into his glitching speech. The idea of not belonging, of being an anomaly even in the realm of anomalies, struck a deep, discordant chord within him.

"Well, it is called the ANTI-void, isn't it?" Ink suggested logically, gesturing to their surroundings with an open palm. "It's a place of nothingness, a rejection of existence. For anything to come from it... it implies a contradiction."

"Then w-why are we heRe?" Error's voice was barely a whisper now, the glitches more pronounced as his existential dread mounted. If they didn't belong even in the Anti-Void, then where did they belong? What was their true origin?

Ink's shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. He could not answer. He honestly did not know. He was just hypothesizing, throwing out theoretical constructs in the hope that one might stick, illuminating the path forward. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice holding an unusual note of quiet frustration. "But I do know this: we don't belong to any specific universe. We only truly belong in the Anti-Void, or rather, to the Anti-Void itself."

Error processed Ink's words, the implications settling heavily in his core code. He thought back to his own destructive tendencies, to the countless AUs he'd unraveled and deleted, always rationalizing it with the mantra that they "didn't belong," that they were "mistakes." The irony was sharp, cutting. He enforced belonging, yet he himself was an outcast.

But the Anti-Void... it was different. Ink belonged here, in this paradoxical place of non-existence. And Error... he belonged here too. Sort of. A nagging feeling, a persistent echo, told him that something crucial had happened to him on the way here, something that fractured his memories and twisted his purpose.

A new idea, audacious and startling, began to coalesce in Error's fractured mind. His optical displays widened, and he leaned forward slightly, his body thrumming with a suppressed energy. "What iF... The anti-void... w-was not a-always tHe anti-void...?" The words were difficult to force out, each stutter a struggle against a forgotten truth trying to surface.

Ink looked at Error, a genuine expression of confusion blooming on his usually composed face. His eyes, typically a swirling kaleidoscope of colors, settled into a questioning yellow and blue. "What makes you say that?" he asked, his tone crisp, analytical.

"Well," Error began, finding a surge of articulate thought despite his glitches, "we bOth woke up here w-w-without knowing how we got here, and we both s-seem to have distant meMories of one anoTher, memories that f-feel like they are a dream from a loNg time ago. Fragments, echoes... The anti-void is the only place that we seEm to belong. All of t-this is c-connected. We just need to think of a way to rEmber." He finished, his voice trembling slightly with the weight of the realization.

Ink, after a moment of intense contemplation, nodded his head slowly, a rare sign of complete agreement. The logic, even without emotional context, was undeniable. "But how can we do that?" he asked, his analytical mind immediately jumping to the practical application of this revelation.

Error fell silent, his internal processors whirring as he sifted through every memory, every interaction, searching for a clue. How could they unlock these lost memories? Then, a specific, deeply personal memory surfaced, unexpected and vivid. He thought back to that moment, barely a flicker in time, when Ink had... kissed his code. It had been accidental, a desperate attempt to help, but it had resonated deeply, momentarily stabilizing his voice, smoothing out some of the harsher glitches.

A mischievous glint flickered in Error's eye lights. "P-Perhaps a kiss?" he suggested, the suggestion delivered with a slightly exaggerated stutter, betraying a playful intent.

Ink's reaction was instantaneous and spectacular. A vibrant rainbow flush exploded across his cheekbones, painting his face in a mosaic of embarrassed hues. "W-what?" he squeaked, his voice shrinking to a tiny, barely audible whisper, eyes wide with shock.

Error thoroughly enjoyed Ink's utterly adorable, flustered expression, a rare sight that always brought a genuine, if fleeting, warmth to his own fractured existence. A low, rumbling chuckle, surprisingly soft, escaped him. "I'm j-just kidDing, Ink," he clarified, though a lingering smirk belied his words.

Ink visibly deflated, though the rainbow blush stubbornly remained, a gentle glow beneath his skeletal skin. "R-right," he managed, clearing his throat, still a little breathless.

Error's grin softened into a thoughtful frown as he pulled his attention back to the pressing mystery. The teasing was fun, but the question remained. What was the key to unlocking their true selves, their shared past? His gaze fell upon Ink, then inward, towards the empty space where his own soul should theoretically reside.

"Our s-souls..." Error whispered, the realization hitting him with the force of a physical blow.

"What?" Ink asked again, his head tilting in confusion, the concept of a "soul" being particularly abstract to him.

Error's eye lights flared with renewed determination. He lifted his head, a fierce spark in his gaze. "ouR souls! W-we need to hAck into our s-souls, Ink! That's it! That's how we'll remember!"

*remastered*