[If the mannequin dopplegangers are meant as guards to keep them all in the larger cage of these tunnels, they're doing a very good job. Papyrus had thought he was halfway to freedom with a group of the others, but between half-rotten floors, people breaking off to look for the voices calling for help, and a rather panicked chase, he's finding himself alone by the gross lab space again.
Well. Not as alone as he'd like. Just a moment ago he'd thought he heard Undyne's voice of all voices, calling for help in a way that was so unlike her. He'd hesitated, torn between investigating and not falling for another obvious trap, only for the mannequin to ambush him from above anyway.
The flailing limbs tearing at his set his ribcage and face to stabbing pains again, and shoving it off him only gets it so far before it's leaping at him again. There's nothing for it - even though his bone magic's limited, he has to pin it down. The first volley is an unintended warning shot, veering wide from lack of practice and the lingering soreness of his everything, and Papyrus has to dodge out of the way of its lunge himself.]
Nnnn, stop attacking already.
[Even as he complains he wants to grumble even more - his voice is off, and not just from being winded. The stiffness of his face is distorting something about how his lips shape sound. But the mannequin's almost helpful for a moment, tilting its head and chirping back in an even more distorted version of his voice, Have a nice day!
At least he doesn't sound like that, he thinks, and flings another set of three as quickly as he can. One of the bones crashes with a crunch into the mannequin's arm, plastic cracking as the bone goes through.]
given the face situation, gonna see a lot of skulls and lost soul sprites
Well. Not as alone as he'd like. Just a moment ago he'd thought he heard Undyne's voice of all voices, calling for help in a way that was so unlike her. He'd hesitated, torn between investigating and not falling for another obvious trap, only for the mannequin to ambush him from above anyway.
The flailing limbs tearing at his set his ribcage and face to stabbing pains again, and shoving it off him only gets it so far before it's leaping at him again. There's nothing for it - even though his bone magic's limited, he has to pin it down. The first volley is an unintended warning shot, veering wide from lack of practice and the lingering soreness of his everything, and Papyrus has to dodge out of the way of its lunge himself.]
Nnnn, stop attacking already.
[Even as he complains he wants to grumble even more - his voice is off, and not just from being winded. The stiffness of his face is distorting something about how his lips shape sound. But the mannequin's almost helpful for a moment, tilting its head and chirping back in an even more distorted version of his voice, Have a nice day!
At least he doesn't sound like that, he thinks, and flings another set of three as quickly as he can. One of the bones crashes with a crunch into the mannequin's arm, plastic cracking as the bone goes through.]