[Describing his feelings on their transience as "enjoyment" doesn't sit right with Mettaton, but it's not as though he resents them for it. He finds death and all of its monstrous approximations to be sad, a regrettable part of life for most people. Thankfully for him, he's never had a close contact who passed on, but it's bound to happen. He hardly thought of people as individual things with beginning and end, though it's not like he never considered their individual plights, either; but when you're someone who takes a position high up, everybody below has a sense of insignificance, intentional or not.
Being permitted the "safety" of sympathizing with Emet-Selch, Mettaton smirks and deliberately brings his body closer. He hums a laugh.]
Come on. I doubt many are devoted to your demise, darling... For what good that does. Which isn't much. But it's the sentiment that counts... Or, lack thereof.
[He's thinking about Mira. There's no way she wanted him dead, Emet-Selch, the man himself. She's too fond of him, and with all of Emet-Selch's Bonds to these Warriors, he doubts they feel so strongly about killing him.
He feels the pause, but more than that, he notes the tightening of his arm. It feels nice, and he returns the gesture. That's the feeling he gets from him, he realizes. It's unfathomable loneliness wherever there's want and need. One of his hands moves from his shoulder to trace a slow line across the Ascian's back, one that will follow his shoulder blade before uniting with his spine and tracing further south.
Emet-Selch's bouncing Mettaton's observation back at him in the form of a question doesn't cause the robot to freeze, but it does cause him to slow. Yes, the love of his fans has been plenty. But he's realized that it caused him to place even greater distance between himself and all others, and... The Puca has some thoughts. He places a soft kiss against Emet-Selch's clavicle.]
My fans will always remain my fans, and I... to them, just with in reach. It's as the saying goes. It's lonely, being at the top!! I can't accept every proposal for my hand I receive! Even if my goal is always to please my fans, however possible. ... I hadn't thought about it. Becoming lonely. I'm always surrounded by adorers... And I could see myself being content that way.
[But here he stands in the company of someone he's found comfort with, and just before arriving here, he found himself breaking his routine for companionship. He remains pressed to his skin.]
But I realized something. I've been missing... companionship. I forwent it for long enough that I'd forgotten what it's like. To share myself with someone else, without restraint. ...If my only option was humanity, it's not impossible to find somebody I could keep close. I should think that I would cherish them in their life, and remember them fondly thereafter. It's a bit... It's bittersweet. But it would beat being idolized, having so many to cherish in return, yet lacking someone of significance to adore...
[This sentiment pricks him a lot more than it ever has, and maybe becoming the company-favoring Puca is slightly responsible for it. But the heartache he feels is also in part due to his penchant for ignoring the troublesome aspects of existence: how could he ever fear loneliness if he never acknowledged it? Emet-Selch, with his incredibly different perspective on things, forces Mettaton to consider that which he doesn't allow himself.
From his collar bone, Mettaton places another kiss further up his throat — just barely, the first hint that he'll kiss all the way up. Before he can advance, he remains against Emet-Selch's neck for a moment more.]
Haha. Listen to me. Of course my fans are enough. But... I like this. A lot.
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Being permitted the "safety" of sympathizing with Emet-Selch, Mettaton smirks and deliberately brings his body closer. He hums a laugh.]
Come on. I doubt many are devoted to your demise, darling... For what good that does. Which isn't much. But it's the sentiment that counts... Or, lack thereof.
[He's thinking about Mira. There's no way she wanted him dead, Emet-Selch, the man himself. She's too fond of him, and with all of Emet-Selch's Bonds to these Warriors, he doubts they feel so strongly about killing him.
He feels the pause, but more than that, he notes the tightening of his arm. It feels nice, and he returns the gesture. That's the feeling he gets from him, he realizes. It's unfathomable loneliness wherever there's want and need. One of his hands moves from his shoulder to trace a slow line across the Ascian's back, one that will follow his shoulder blade before uniting with his spine and tracing further south.
Emet-Selch's bouncing Mettaton's observation back at him in the form of a question doesn't cause the robot to freeze, but it does cause him to slow. Yes, the love of his fans has been plenty. But he's realized that it caused him to place even greater distance between himself and all others, and... The Puca has some thoughts. He places a soft kiss against Emet-Selch's clavicle.]
My fans will always remain my fans, and I... to them, just with in reach. It's as the saying goes. It's lonely, being at the top!! I can't accept every proposal for my hand I receive! Even if my goal is always to please my fans, however possible. ... I hadn't thought about it. Becoming lonely. I'm always surrounded by adorers... And I could see myself being content that way.
[But here he stands in the company of someone he's found comfort with, and just before arriving here, he found himself breaking his routine for companionship. He remains pressed to his skin.]
But I realized something. I've been missing... companionship. I forwent it for long enough that I'd forgotten what it's like. To share myself with someone else, without restraint. ...If my only option was humanity, it's not impossible to find somebody I could keep close. I should think that I would cherish them in their life, and remember them fondly thereafter. It's a bit... It's bittersweet. But it would beat being idolized, having so many to cherish in return, yet lacking someone of significance to adore...
[This sentiment pricks him a lot more than it ever has, and maybe becoming the company-favoring Puca is slightly responsible for it. But the heartache he feels is also in part due to his penchant for ignoring the troublesome aspects of existence: how could he ever fear loneliness if he never acknowledged it? Emet-Selch, with his incredibly different perspective on things, forces Mettaton to consider that which he doesn't allow himself.
From his collar bone, Mettaton places another kiss further up his throat — just barely, the first hint that he'll kiss all the way up. Before he can advance, he remains against Emet-Selch's neck for a moment more.]
Haha. Listen to me. Of course my fans are enough. But... I like this. A lot.