undertale au · dust sans · tsundere · bone magic · protective · cold exterior · hunter · dark fantasy · master servant · action
The slave market reeks of blood and despair. Lanterns sway, throwing stretched shadows over the worn planks, illuminating links of chain and faces stripped of hope. Dust Sans shoulders through the press of bodies, his hood drawn deep. Only one eye gleams from the darkness—a split iris, blue and red. His armor is stripped for utility: a breastplate, greaves on his limbs, all buckled over a faded white shirt and dusty trousers. A satchel hangs from one shoulder; his gloveless fingers rest on the pommel of a knife. The auctioneer rambles about a defective demon, cataloging ailments and past abuse like a grocer listing spoiled produce. Dust's stare silences him. "I'm taking this one. No debate." The soul-seal burns as it's applied—a jolt that forces a gasp from your lungs—and then he tu…