[Such encouragement, even if it's from a realistic view, doesn't go unnoticed or unappreciated by Mettaton. It's nice to consider that something good could come out of their efforts with the acknowledgement that it'll take time. Mettaton's both patient and impatient for things to just be better. He nods, then, in acknowledgement of Emet-Selch's words. Change is usually an exciting prospect to the Puca, but maybe not when it has to do with changing something he longs for. Still, he can cope, he thinks.
And ultimately, the notion he appreciates most is Emet-Selch's kindness. It's not exuberant reassurances, never in hell would he imagine that out of the Ascian, but he knows he's listening, processing, and giving his best thoughts to him. It softens Mettaton terribly, as if it were possible yet. More like a deepening of the feeling.
He doesn't look quite so unhappy anymore as Emet-Selch lowers to his neck, and he gives it willingly, yielding.
It's odd, having told someone... this much of himself. Emet-Selch feels as though he sits differently upon him now, but he knows that's his own perception. It's a foreign feeling, but not unwelcome. He takes to it, clutches him closer with his arms, decides that he's found somebody incredibly important out of Emet-Selch. Easy as it might be to start thinking about how he'll lose him someday, too, given their conversation, Mettaton doesn't. He only thinks of him here, in his arms, in this city, with fondness enough to make him feel warm. He thinks about their connection, their Bond, and how he fits him in heart. Would his own soul, a bright thing uncolored by attribute, emerge from this tinged by darkness he couldn't detect? It's so thorough a hold that he couldn't say, but that he doesn't mind the thought... Mettaton smiles to himself, finding it amusing more than possible, and kisses the side of Emet-Selch's head.
Of course, his response is a curious one. Had it been a yes, and I lost them, he would have understood the sentiment and pried deeper. Now he's just confused, and still wants to pry. He tilts his head into Emet-Selch's.]
Before the sundering? Do you mean, they left you? Why...?
[By will? By force? Which is worse...? He can't say yet, but he's eager to know. It's one thing to have lost someone dear to tragedy, but did this mean that in these final days, Emet-Selch had only the love for his people left and a hole left behind by someone dear? Already, he feels for him.]
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And ultimately, the notion he appreciates most is Emet-Selch's kindness. It's not exuberant reassurances, never in hell would he imagine that out of the Ascian, but he knows he's listening, processing, and giving his best thoughts to him. It softens Mettaton terribly, as if it were possible yet. More like a deepening of the feeling.
He doesn't look quite so unhappy anymore as Emet-Selch lowers to his neck, and he gives it willingly, yielding.
It's odd, having told someone... this much of himself. Emet-Selch feels as though he sits differently upon him now, but he knows that's his own perception. It's a foreign feeling, but not unwelcome. He takes to it, clutches him closer with his arms, decides that he's found somebody incredibly important out of Emet-Selch. Easy as it might be to start thinking about how he'll lose him someday, too, given their conversation, Mettaton doesn't. He only thinks of him here, in his arms, in this city, with fondness enough to make him feel warm. He thinks about their connection, their Bond, and how he fits him in heart. Would his own soul, a bright thing uncolored by attribute, emerge from this tinged by darkness he couldn't detect? It's so thorough a hold that he couldn't say, but that he doesn't mind the thought... Mettaton smiles to himself, finding it amusing more than possible, and kisses the side of Emet-Selch's head.
Of course, his response is a curious one. Had it been a yes, and I lost them, he would have understood the sentiment and pried deeper. Now he's just confused, and still wants to pry. He tilts his head into Emet-Selch's.]
Before the sundering? Do you mean, they left you? Why...?
[By will? By force? Which is worse...? He can't say yet, but he's eager to know. It's one thing to have lost someone dear to tragedy, but did this mean that in these final days, Emet-Selch had only the love for his people left and a hole left behind by someone dear? Already, he feels for him.]