Part 1: The Refuge

~

In retrospect, they should have seen it coming.

Tensions had been growing between the monsters and the humans, and they had been lucky to keep out of most of the trouble. Skeletons were, truth be told, in a funny place. After all, humans also had skeletons, but it was more a part of them rather than their whole being. Not to mention that theirs were much more solid; the skeletons in the village had a similar makeup to monsters: magic and dust. How it came to be that way, no one knew, and so long as they had their security from the war, there was no reason for them to question it. They were a strange mixture of monster and human, and both sides of the war seemed to recognize that and let them be.

But, of course, the humans were the ones to ruin that.

~

He was particularly unlucky. He was born into the Gaster clan. At home, he regularly impressed his family with his articulacy and turns of phrase. He was good at telling stories, and every now and again he would manage a good joke.

In the village, he was useless.

You see, his particularly family tree had a strange quirk. While most skeletons had particular cadences and phrases common only to their clans—with enough variance that they needed a "common" dialect—the Gasters went above and beyond: they signed their language. The story was that several of their ancestors had been mute, but he suspected it was more out of defiance rather than necessity. Regardless, it made any trip to the village a nightmare. He could manage a few bits of garbled Arial, enough to get what he needed, but ultimately he was left silent, too proud to admit that languages did not come naturally to him.

In later years, he would regret not trying harder to learn. It might have made all the difference.

It was the smell of smoke that woke him that morning, and the cries from the village that got him out of bed. His sockets were wide with horror as he saw the scene outside his window—smoke pouring from windows, roofs licked with flames, skeletons running for cover as an army of humans swarmed their village. Some fought back, but by the time he tore himself away, the ground was already powdered white with dust.

They needed to get out.

He ran through the house, already in silent chaos. His mother was signing comforting things to his sisters, his father's hands moving steadily as he came up with a plan of attack. Enough of them could fight, so they would defend the ones that couldn't. Hopefully the clan could make it to the forest, and after that—

He'd never been certain about the noises his family could make. As the wall to their house collapsed, crushing his father beneath it mid-sign, he found that screaming was one of them.

A wave of humans came through the new opening, their magicians and warriors already attacking. Without thinking, he shot a slew of bones at the human nearest to him.

Oh, god.

Humans splatter.

He had no time to be horrified by the blood covering him. His attack had rendered them even more dangerous in the human's eyes, and the slaughter truly begun. He shot as many bones as he could, impaling a few humans, but not nearly enough. More and more dust filled the air, clinging to him, coating his bones and clothing. As he squinted through the clouds of dust and smoke, he caught a glimpse of his mother's hand, signing one thing.

Run.

His legs moved faster than his mind—before he knew what exactly he was doing, he was pushing himself out of the house. He ran through the village, toward the forest. He threw bones at every human in his way, clambering through the wreckage. More dust, more smoke, more blood. It all stuck to him, burning his sockets and sticking to his ribs. A small part of him said it would be better to give up, to not have to live through this nightmare, but the survival instinct was far too great.

Eventually, he was out of the village, though the screams still echoed against the trees. He shut his sockets and leaned against a tree, taking gulps of air as his skull spun. Could a skeleton vomit? He felt as if he might.

The crack of a stick breaking echoed in the forest, and once again he was tensed, bones at the ready. His breath caught as he saw glowing blue eyes in the growing darkness. A woman's voice shouted something he couldn't quite understand, and the blue slowly faded. He swallowed and took a cautious step forward.

Two skeletons stood in front of him—one short and one fairly tall. Their clothes were powdered with dust, just as his were, and they looked just as haunted as he felt.

His arms went limp, and they whispered to each other. Finally, the woman asked him something. He grimaced and signed back, I don't understand you.

The man murmured something to the woman, then asked, "Arial?"

He hesitated. "A little."

"What's ---- name? ----- Lucida..." The man gestured to the woman, who waved, then to himself. "...and Palatino."

He blinked. He'd never heard his name aloud. He signed it to them. Palatino frowned, but Lucida pat his humerus and looked back up at him.

"-- --- going to ---- -- some----- safe. You ------ come ---- us."

He translated what he could and guessed the rest. After a moment, he nodded. If this was all that was left, they needed to stay together.

Lucida smiled at him—in times of peace, he was certain it would be a wide, lovely smile—then took Palatino's arm. Palatino looked him over again, then nodded and turned. They headed deeper into the forest.

~

"Lu-ci-da."

"Lu-ci-da."

"Pal-a-ti-no."

"Pal-a-ti-no."

"Tree."

"Tree."

"See? Easy!"

Night had come. Sufficiently deep in the forest, they had set up camp, and Lucida was trying her hardest to teach him Arial. But...she really wasn't that great of a teacher; her method of teaching involved pointing at things and saying them slowly for him to repeat. But she was so eager, and at any rate, it wasn't like he could tell her it wasn't helping. Finally, after about an hour of him parroting her, it was Palatino who had the idea of writing their respective alphabets in the dirt.

With some hesitation, he scrawled out the strange symbols of his written language—again, the Gasters went above and beyond when it came to isolating linguistics. The couple—he thought he had picked up something about them being recently married? But it was entirely likely he had misunderstood—looked over it, and Palatino wrote the Arial alphabet under each symbol.

"—what's ---- name? Point."

His browbone furrowed, and he used the stick he'd written with to point at the letters.

W-I-N-G. D-I-N-G.

"Wing Ding?" Lucida was politely trying to conceal a laugh.

He pulled a face. It was a much more graceful name when signed. Palatino rolled his own stick in his hands.

"--- right, Wing...or, uh, do you ------ Ding?"

He grimaced again. Neither sounded right. He tapped on two letters.

"W.D.?"

He nodded. Still not great, but it would suffice. Palatino spoke, but it was muffled by static filling his skull. It was entirely possible he'd never see his name signed again. His family was gone—the dust on his clothes was proof. He felt his ribs constrict, and he couldn't breathe as the realization of the past few hours hit him full force. He was the last of his clan...he had watched his family die.

"W.D.? W.D.! Wing Ding!"

He gasped in a breath, brought back to the present. Lucida and Palatino were staring hard at him, their sockets wide with concern. He let out another breath and quickly signed that he was fine, then stopped himself and instead said, "Fine. It fine."

A silence stretched between the three skeletons. No doubt the couple were having the same thoughts as him. Finally, though, it was he who spoke first.

"Monsters. Go to...monsters," he managed to say, with no small amount of difficulty. "Erm...they...erm...ready?" He looked up at them hopelessly. Both skeletons frowned at him, but it was Lucida who put his words together. She spoke excitedly to Palatino, who remained silent for a long stretch. Finally, he nodded.

"Tomorrow ----- go to --- monster's ----."

Wing Ding Gaster let out a breath. Perhaps they would find safety with the monsters. Perhaps they could stop the humans.

He could hope, at least.