[He's a little taken aback, soul and body stilling. It was a form of recognition that... he wasn't sure he'd ever received, and his emotions reflect this uncertainty.
None of those Warriors had said as much. And he didn't expect it- and when it came to regret over his death, Emet-Selch didn't want it. How cruel would it be for them to regret it now, after the fact, accomplishing nothing? A regret that wouldn't even be able to travel back with them. But had any of them ever expressed empathy for anything else? Would it have made a difference if they had? They respected him, he thought, and he could no longer deny that they cared about him either.
But it was one of those awkward things no one brought up. Or perhaps they felt nothing at all, being from the place impacted by the Ascians' work, knowing of the lives they'd taken, and the suffering they'd wrought. What was one person's grief in comparison to that?
It was the most unsympathetic view, so he assumed it to be correct.
...It shouldn't matter. It didn't matter, but he found himself holding onto Mettaton's words nonetheless.
And holding onto him in general, breathing in his nearness on all levels. Eyes closed, dwelling on the sensation of the kiss, the fingers in his hair, the hand on his back. He didn't feel held in place so much as just- held, doused in the mix of their feelings, giving himself over to both. But he settles further, if more heavily, away from the limited energy that anger brought. Digging in that bit more, with what strength he could manage, as though he could keep himself from falling entirely. Emet-Selch wasn't sure if he was sinking further into despair, or just... sinking in general. A slow drift downward was inevitable, he supposed.
But affection deepened. He hadn't thought it could deepen so far.]
...Fear was a large part of it. And misunderstanding. They believed that for all that Zodiark's new laws governing reality appeared immutable, that time would find flaws in them. That Hydaelyn would serve to bind Him, should His power run rampant. But outside of this....
[This was the bit Emet-Selch tended to avoid mentioning. The only reason the heroes knew was because someone else told them. And while it was entirely true that a small number of his people feared Zodiark, for no proven cause, ruining the world in their panic- this other aspect was slightly less sympathetic towards the Ascian cause.]
...Once our world was healed, and life began to take root upon it again, our Convocation decided that after enough of it had amassed, a portion would be given to Zodiark in order that He may restore those who had first fed His creation.
[A forced sacrifice of the younger races. Emet-Selch still sees nothing wrong with this; his people deserved the world more than anyone else.]
So Hydaelyn was created to preserve them. Borne in part of this desire, 'tis no wonder She chooses to protect them at all cost, even if it meant breaking the world to do so. Hiding the past and lying to them, all to make exacting our plan ever harder. So long as none are given to Zodiark, I suppose She cares not how many of them perish....
no subject
None of those Warriors had said as much. And he didn't expect it- and when it came to regret over his death, Emet-Selch didn't want it. How cruel would it be for them to regret it now, after the fact, accomplishing nothing? A regret that wouldn't even be able to travel back with them. But had any of them ever expressed empathy for anything else? Would it have made a difference if they had? They respected him, he thought, and he could no longer deny that they cared about him either.
But it was one of those awkward things no one brought up. Or perhaps they felt nothing at all, being from the place impacted by the Ascians' work, knowing of the lives they'd taken, and the suffering they'd wrought. What was one person's grief in comparison to that?
It was the most unsympathetic view, so he assumed it to be correct.
...It shouldn't matter. It didn't matter, but he found himself holding onto Mettaton's words nonetheless.
And holding onto him in general, breathing in his nearness on all levels. Eyes closed, dwelling on the sensation of the kiss, the fingers in his hair, the hand on his back. He didn't feel held in place so much as just- held, doused in the mix of their feelings, giving himself over to both. But he settles further, if more heavily, away from the limited energy that anger brought. Digging in that bit more, with what strength he could manage, as though he could keep himself from falling entirely. Emet-Selch wasn't sure if he was sinking further into despair, or just... sinking in general. A slow drift downward was inevitable, he supposed.
But affection deepened. He hadn't thought it could deepen so far.]
...Fear was a large part of it. And misunderstanding. They believed that for all that Zodiark's new laws governing reality appeared immutable, that time would find flaws in them. That Hydaelyn would serve to bind Him, should His power run rampant. But outside of this....
[This was the bit Emet-Selch tended to avoid mentioning. The only reason the heroes knew was because someone else told them. And while it was entirely true that a small number of his people feared Zodiark, for no proven cause, ruining the world in their panic- this other aspect was slightly less sympathetic towards the Ascian cause.]
...Once our world was healed, and life began to take root upon it again, our Convocation decided that after enough of it had amassed, a portion would be given to Zodiark in order that He may restore those who had first fed His creation.
[A forced sacrifice of the younger races. Emet-Selch still sees nothing wrong with this; his people deserved the world more than anyone else.]
So Hydaelyn was created to preserve them. Borne in part of this desire, 'tis no wonder She chooses to protect them at all cost, even if it meant breaking the world to do so. Hiding the past and lying to them, all to make exacting our plan ever harder. So long as none are given to Zodiark, I suppose She cares not how many of them perish....