[They are their counters. Mettaton marvels at how hard the Ascian clings to his past while he takes care to remove trace of his where possible. Even the assuming of a new form was his assumption of a new life, by choice. For Emet-Selch, it was a major tragedy that changed things. It doesn't surprise him that they see their own existences so differently, that he himself would fixate on the present and the future while Emet-Selch would live in the past, unable to do much living now.
If the Ascian could learn how to simply be without having the past haunt him, he thinks he could only benefit. He catches him hurting so often. Emet-Selch's beyond being relieved of his past without losing his memory of it, but the inability to move on is impressive, if not despairing. There's no coming back from such trauma, an incident of terror Mettaton can only imagine. But if he could help him let go of it for a time here or there, he likes the thought of it.
The attention paid to his neck causes the robot to sigh and shift his other leg in a weak squirm, pressing closer to him as a gesture of appreciation for his contact. His shiver's enough to get him to close his eye and bite his lip to steel himself from... losing himself to continued want so readily, he supposes. He knows he could go on. Have some composure; he's trying to have a conversation!
For the sake of his focus, Emet-Selch's pause is helpful. Mettaton focuses on his hair, able to just barely catch the darker color of it from the corner of his eye where the Ascian has his face close to his neck. Feeling him press into him more firmly with such an alarming symptom...
The robot keeps stroking his hair without pause. For somebody who likes sleep, surely this is remarkable if Emet-Selch finds it noteworthy.]
Unconscious. [He's repeating it, like it could give him new understanding that way. He assumes easily that this is not due to a lack of rest.] That is concerning. I've never heard of it happening before... in the context of a Bond.
[Nor does he know enough about the science of Bonds to say why this might be happening, aside from having too many of them. He's a Monster, so is Irhya, and Mira's a Witch... the last of his Bonds is unknown to him, but no matter what sort of arrangement it is, that could still be three Monsters at most. Three, which is the recommended maximum for any kind, and having his opposite? Why wouldn't having three Monsters plus a Witch not work out? ...He can't delude himself very far, of course. Having three Monsters to service, plus a Witch, likely doesn't change the fact that there are four ways his magic's being forced. Mettaton's predisposed to thinking of magic as a life force, since that's precisely what it is for him. It would make sense that it would rob him of his consciousness.
He feels a spike of concern. It's a bit more worrying than he'd like it to be.]
... I never did tell you. When we first Bonded, I didn't care to... Though now, you might have noticed already. That someone with a soul like mine might have different, steeper demands. I'm supposed to be made of magic, and upon losing it...
[Someone might feel they could handle four, but what of four when one of them is like himself? He absolutely doesn't want to give this Bond up: about that, a streak of stubbornness runs strong. The thought now is unbearable, and he doesn't even consider it, even if he were the problem. His hand rests against the back of Emet-Selch's head, his fingers twisted in his tousled locks.]
Is there something you've found that relieves these fainting spells?
no subject
If the Ascian could learn how to simply be without having the past haunt him, he thinks he could only benefit. He catches him hurting so often. Emet-Selch's beyond being relieved of his past without losing his memory of it, but the inability to move on is impressive, if not despairing. There's no coming back from such trauma, an incident of terror Mettaton can only imagine. But if he could help him let go of it for a time here or there, he likes the thought of it.
The attention paid to his neck causes the robot to sigh and shift his other leg in a weak squirm, pressing closer to him as a gesture of appreciation for his contact. His shiver's enough to get him to close his eye and bite his lip to steel himself from... losing himself to continued want so readily, he supposes. He knows he could go on. Have some composure; he's trying to have a conversation!
For the sake of his focus, Emet-Selch's pause is helpful. Mettaton focuses on his hair, able to just barely catch the darker color of it from the corner of his eye where the Ascian has his face close to his neck. Feeling him press into him more firmly with such an alarming symptom...
The robot keeps stroking his hair without pause. For somebody who likes sleep, surely this is remarkable if Emet-Selch finds it noteworthy.]
Unconscious. [He's repeating it, like it could give him new understanding that way. He assumes easily that this is not due to a lack of rest.] That is concerning. I've never heard of it happening before... in the context of a Bond.
[Nor does he know enough about the science of Bonds to say why this might be happening, aside from having too many of them. He's a Monster, so is Irhya, and Mira's a Witch... the last of his Bonds is unknown to him, but no matter what sort of arrangement it is, that could still be three Monsters at most. Three, which is the recommended maximum for any kind, and having his opposite? Why wouldn't having three Monsters plus a Witch not work out? ...He can't delude himself very far, of course. Having three Monsters to service, plus a Witch, likely doesn't change the fact that there are four ways his magic's being forced. Mettaton's predisposed to thinking of magic as a life force, since that's precisely what it is for him. It would make sense that it would rob him of his consciousness.
He feels a spike of concern. It's a bit more worrying than he'd like it to be.]
... I never did tell you. When we first Bonded, I didn't care to... Though now, you might have noticed already. That someone with a soul like mine might have different, steeper demands. I'm supposed to be made of magic, and upon losing it...
[Someone might feel they could handle four, but what of four when one of them is like himself? He absolutely doesn't want to give this Bond up: about that, a streak of stubbornness runs strong. The thought now is unbearable, and he doesn't even consider it, even if he were the problem. His hand rests against the back of Emet-Selch's head, his fingers twisted in his tousled locks.]
Is there something you've found that relieves these fainting spells?