[At his obvious gratitude, Mettaton softens up further. Fingers that tangle with Emet-Selch's weave in his further yet. Another reminder of his normal, but on the higher end of acceptable, finger counts.
He wonders what it must be like, to feel his humanity's been lost to him with the fall of his civilization. There's no other explanation for his surprise at it. Of course Emet-Selch should be capable of caring, Mettaton thinks. But such a disturbing incident no doubt traumatized him, and everything thereafter... There is no recovery alone. But the admission itself strikes him as such a lonely existence, never once connecting with anybody, never finding anyone worth it or capable of leveling with him in this way... He squeezes him with his arms. So many years. It's no small wonder he struggles so greatly with coping, with processing, with simple discussion of touchy subjects.
And this softness only intensifies as he continues talking. Mettaton drags his hand laced with Emet-Selch's up to his chest, pressing both of their hands over his Bondmate's heart.
Something he could do for him? As more recompense, for loving him. Is he hearing this right? It strikes Mettaton as a bit absurd, but then, aren't they both a bit odd. Yes, Emet-Selch should be grateful to win his attentions in turn, but this strikes him as another sad sort of thing to say. Not quite founded on any insecurity over whether he's worth loving or not, but just that he felt so touched by the act of being loved and loving in return that he feels he could give more. Mettaton leans into that touch, closing his eyes.]
You're my Bonded Witch. I have your magic, and anything you do with it. I watch you unfold before me... I have your self. I keep your company. Your consideration. And your heart. [His eyes open half-way, fixing his attention upon Emet-Selch with a mild smile.] Yet you want to give me more...
[He says that in hopes of shining a light over the fact that he already does much for him, to start with. He presses his palm into his chest. Of course he'd do what he could for Emet-Selch, and it surprises him little that he should want to do for Mettaton what he can, too. If he ever wanted something beyond himself, Emet-Selch would be the first to know.]
Hmm. ... A kiss. Yes, that's what you can do for me, for now.
[He meets his eyes squarely with a growing smile.]
no subject
He wonders what it must be like, to feel his humanity's been lost to him with the fall of his civilization. There's no other explanation for his surprise at it. Of course Emet-Selch should be capable of caring, Mettaton thinks. But such a disturbing incident no doubt traumatized him, and everything thereafter... There is no recovery alone. But the admission itself strikes him as such a lonely existence, never once connecting with anybody, never finding anyone worth it or capable of leveling with him in this way... He squeezes him with his arms. So many years. It's no small wonder he struggles so greatly with coping, with processing, with simple discussion of touchy subjects.
And this softness only intensifies as he continues talking. Mettaton drags his hand laced with Emet-Selch's up to his chest, pressing both of their hands over his Bondmate's heart.
Something he could do for him? As more recompense, for loving him. Is he hearing this right? It strikes Mettaton as a bit absurd, but then, aren't they both a bit odd. Yes, Emet-Selch should be grateful to win his attentions in turn, but this strikes him as another sad sort of thing to say. Not quite founded on any insecurity over whether he's worth loving or not, but just that he felt so touched by the act of being loved and loving in return that he feels he could give more. Mettaton leans into that touch, closing his eyes.]
You're my Bonded Witch. I have your magic, and anything you do with it. I watch you unfold before me... I have your self. I keep your company. Your consideration. And your heart. [His eyes open half-way, fixing his attention upon Emet-Selch with a mild smile.] Yet you want to give me more...
[He says that in hopes of shining a light over the fact that he already does much for him, to start with. He presses his palm into his chest. Of course he'd do what he could for Emet-Selch, and it surprises him little that he should want to do for Mettaton what he can, too. If he ever wanted something beyond himself, Emet-Selch would be the first to know.]
Hmm. ... A kiss. Yes, that's what you can do for me, for now.
[He meets his eyes squarely with a growing smile.]