[As he noted that deepening frown, that clear disapproval- Emet-Selch had felt a cold sort of justification. He'd had this sort of conversation before with the Exarch, an attack and defense on the virtues of humanity, pretenses of politeness fading into ever more personally aimed barbs. That was how this manner of discussion always went, regardless of any initial attempt towards civility.
So when that expression, that reaction changes, Emet-Selch is a bit at a loss, feeling a mix of surprise and confusion at hearing any sort of concession towards humanity's fearful condition. It makes it easier for him to listen in turn, rather than seek out something to be insulted by and lash out at it.]
If you understand what they'll do in their fear, why--
[He cuts himself off with a sigh, a vaguely frustrated sound.]
Of course I have all the same emotions that they do. [And he frowns, glancing aside towards the blank walls of his room, trying to not find offense at being compared to mortals. Trying to decide how to explain the difference.] In the true world, there was no need for fear or mistrust. Were you to appear in Amaurot as you are, you would be welcomed without reservation. Anything I display now, I've learned.
[He's... not at all sure how to react at being told of being loved, alongside humanity. It- hurt, a little. And with Mettaton's head on his shoulder, Emet-Selch reaches up to slowly stroke at his hair. That unabashed (and undeserved) love for humanity was something he could almost respect, if it weren't for its target. It reminded him the smallest bit of his own people, who'd never had to learn distrust.]
How could I ever love them, considering what they're capable of? Yet- that first generation, immediately after the sundering... you could see it in their eyes, sometimes. Moments of recognition, recollection- fading dreams of a world that they would never behold again. No- perhaps I loved them still. I despaired for what they had been rendered into, but I knew not what all that entailed. What all they had become.
If I were to ever accept them, humanity would have to move beyond what they currently are. Even then- I don't know. It would be difficult.
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So when that expression, that reaction changes, Emet-Selch is a bit at a loss, feeling a mix of surprise and confusion at hearing any sort of concession towards humanity's fearful condition. It makes it easier for him to listen in turn, rather than seek out something to be insulted by and lash out at it.]
If you understand what they'll do in their fear, why--
[He cuts himself off with a sigh, a vaguely frustrated sound.]
Of course I have all the same emotions that they do. [And he frowns, glancing aside towards the blank walls of his room, trying to not find offense at being compared to mortals. Trying to decide how to explain the difference.] In the true world, there was no need for fear or mistrust. Were you to appear in Amaurot as you are, you would be welcomed without reservation. Anything I display now, I've learned.
[He's... not at all sure how to react at being told of being loved, alongside humanity. It- hurt, a little. And with Mettaton's head on his shoulder, Emet-Selch reaches up to slowly stroke at his hair. That unabashed (and undeserved) love for humanity was something he could almost respect, if it weren't for its target. It reminded him the smallest bit of his own people, who'd never had to learn distrust.]
How could I ever love them, considering what they're capable of? Yet- that first generation, immediately after the sundering... you could see it in their eyes, sometimes. Moments of recognition, recollection- fading dreams of a world that they would never behold again. No- perhaps I loved them still. I despaired for what they had been rendered into, but I knew not what all that entailed. What all they had become.
If I were to ever accept them, humanity would have to move beyond what they currently are. Even then- I don't know. It would be difficult.
[Perfection was a hard thing to be compared to.]