[Emet-Selch was also taking stock of his own consciousness. Which was a vaguely annoying thing to have to do. But though he was completely spent, and believed himself capable of falling asleep rather quickly, he didn't feel on the verge of uncontrollable napping. But then, those fainting spells happened very suddenly, with no more than a handful of seconds of warning that he'd managed to detect.
And privately, Emet-Selch is a bit relieved that he hasn't passed out yet. He was still working out how this new weakness manifested, a process that was made more difficult by it getting continually worse, rather than holding steady. Still, if it did happen now, he thought it would be a degree more acceptable than falling asleep in the middle of sex. He sighs to himself.
Though it was less sleep, and more of a complete unconsciousness. He didn't even feel particularly rested afterward, which was particularly galling. Not that he ever felt particularly rested, but it was like these fits of random darkness weren't even trying.
And Emet-Selch wouldn't be at all surprised to hear that Mettaton felt at all entitled to his body. Considering their shared possessiveness, he expected it, and it wouldn't even occur to him to mind it. Especially not after their souls had been wrapped up in one another; being protective of one's outer shell would feel almost arbitrary.
The comment about comfort gets a tired-sounding, but equally as amused hum from him, and he tilts his head to press a light kiss to Mettaton's neck.]
More than you'd expect.
[That is to say, he could deal with it, just as he could tolerate Mettaton's weight over him before. It was fine. Because he was definitely disinclined towards moving at all, and if the idol wasn't going to encourage him to shift elsewhere, he wasn't going to do it himself. Cuddling with a robot was his life now.
But when dwelling on their souls, whose continued contact felt almost natural, as though this was how they were meant to be, he continues.]
Mm... not too dark for you, I hope. [With a slight ironic lilt; since it couldn't be seen, it was entirely dark, technically.] But yours... is not quite what I expected.
[A slow, almost thoughtful tone. He was surprised by how endeared he was to it- perhaps having to do with whom it belonged to? The Bond encouraging a positive reception? Emet-Selch assumed he would've scorned something so much smaller than his own, so fragile. But it was complete in itself, not malformed- and considering the effect it had on him, certainly made a lot of itself.]
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And privately, Emet-Selch is a bit relieved that he hasn't passed out yet. He was still working out how this new weakness manifested, a process that was made more difficult by it getting continually worse, rather than holding steady. Still, if it did happen now, he thought it would be a degree more acceptable than falling asleep in the middle of sex. He sighs to himself.
Though it was less sleep, and more of a complete unconsciousness. He didn't even feel particularly rested afterward, which was particularly galling. Not that he ever felt particularly rested, but it was like these fits of random darkness weren't even trying.
And Emet-Selch wouldn't be at all surprised to hear that Mettaton felt at all entitled to his body. Considering their shared possessiveness, he expected it, and it wouldn't even occur to him to mind it. Especially not after their souls had been wrapped up in one another; being protective of one's outer shell would feel almost arbitrary.
The comment about comfort gets a tired-sounding, but equally as amused hum from him, and he tilts his head to press a light kiss to Mettaton's neck.]
More than you'd expect.
[That is to say, he could deal with it, just as he could tolerate Mettaton's weight over him before. It was fine. Because he was definitely disinclined towards moving at all, and if the idol wasn't going to encourage him to shift elsewhere, he wasn't going to do it himself. Cuddling with a robot was his life now.
But when dwelling on their souls, whose continued contact felt almost natural, as though this was how they were meant to be, he continues.]
Mm... not too dark for you, I hope. [With a slight ironic lilt; since it couldn't be seen, it was entirely dark, technically.] But yours... is not quite what I expected.
[A slow, almost thoughtful tone. He was surprised by how endeared he was to it- perhaps having to do with whom it belonged to? The Bond encouraging a positive reception? Emet-Selch assumed he would've scorned something so much smaller than his own, so fragile. But it was complete in itself, not malformed- and considering the effect it had on him, certainly made a lot of itself.]
Not in a bad way at all. 'Tis only unfamiliar.