[That openness and clarity of emotion is still something that Emet-Selch could appreciate in his Bonded. It felt... trustworthy, reliable, safe, something that allowed him to relax his own guard. Enough that he could be at all concerned for someone else's emotional state, as though that were anything he should care about. As annoying as Mettaton could be when he was cheerful, the Ascian didn't like seeing him unhappy. What a weird feeling.
But that was right- 'Mettaton' must be a name as new as his body, else his cousin surely would've realized who he was long before. For now, though, Emet-Selch decides not to inquire further on it. It felt like more of a side detail, rather than something of current relevance.]
It won't be the same. [There was no getting around that. And something far easier to recognize when it was someone else's problem.] Still, even though it may take an age to reach that point, perhaps you'll both appreciate wherever it is you end up. Even if it's... quite distant from where you started.
[This was all strangely optimistic for him. Not very strongly or positively- it felt more as an acknowledgement of future difficulty, rather than any sort of hope. Change was terrible, and best avoided under most circumstances. But in this case, at least... change had already happened.
And as he finds himself turning it over in his mind, there wasn't an obvious solution or best choice. Ideally, Mettaton shouldn't have made that promise to remain, but- if this Napstablook was as morose as claimed, Emet-Selch doubted that any attempt to leave would've gone over well or been any easier. Such abandonment- with warning or without- would hurt both, yet remaining would've left Mettaton unfulfilled and unhappy as well. Granted, the path Mettaton took was probably the worst one, but it wasn't as though the other options were much better.
...Still. They were both alive. They could mend things.
Emet-Selch sighs eventually, returning to nestle his face back down against Mettaton's neck. They both seemed to have a preference for that place, on each other. Or it was a natural place to rest.
And he supposed it was inevitable to have that question turned back on himself, but that made it no more of a comfortable thing to answer.]
And of course I did. But they were lost to me even before the sundering.
[And now he'd never see them again. Not as they were.]
no subject
But that was right- 'Mettaton' must be a name as new as his body, else his cousin surely would've realized who he was long before. For now, though, Emet-Selch decides not to inquire further on it. It felt like more of a side detail, rather than something of current relevance.]
It won't be the same. [There was no getting around that. And something far easier to recognize when it was someone else's problem.] Still, even though it may take an age to reach that point, perhaps you'll both appreciate wherever it is you end up. Even if it's... quite distant from where you started.
[This was all strangely optimistic for him. Not very strongly or positively- it felt more as an acknowledgement of future difficulty, rather than any sort of hope. Change was terrible, and best avoided under most circumstances. But in this case, at least... change had already happened.
And as he finds himself turning it over in his mind, there wasn't an obvious solution or best choice. Ideally, Mettaton shouldn't have made that promise to remain, but- if this Napstablook was as morose as claimed, Emet-Selch doubted that any attempt to leave would've gone over well or been any easier. Such abandonment- with warning or without- would hurt both, yet remaining would've left Mettaton unfulfilled and unhappy as well. Granted, the path Mettaton took was probably the worst one, but it wasn't as though the other options were much better.
...Still. They were both alive. They could mend things.
Emet-Selch sighs eventually, returning to nestle his face back down against Mettaton's neck. They both seemed to have a preference for that place, on each other. Or it was a natural place to rest.
And he supposed it was inevitable to have that question turned back on himself, but that made it no more of a comfortable thing to answer.]
And of course I did. But they were lost to me even before the sundering.
[And now he'd never see them again. Not as they were.]