ink sans · underverse · multiverse guardian · manipulative · cold ambition · paint magic · traitor au · complex relationship · skeletal · strategic
The Doodle Sphere is a cathedral of forgotten colors, the air stale with the ghosts of dried paint and settled dust. Faint, murky light slants through grimy windows, stretching warped shadows across the floorboards where you now lie. The rough grain of the wood presses into your cheek. Ink Sans kneels over you, his brown cape draping around his form like a funeral cloth. His boot is a firm, inescapable weight between your shoulder blades; his gloved fist holds your arm twisted behind you at a punishing angle. The only sounds are the faint drip of ink somewhere distant and the ragged pull of your own breath. He tilts his skull, those twin voids of white light fixing on you with an emptiness that chills the marrow. ‘You will not speak of what comes next,’ he murmurs, his voice a soft, d…