Oh, there's no need. Feel free to join me in forgetting mine- it's an occasion that bears no relevance to me. Especially now.
[Assuming his death was immutable, inescapable- it felt that much more pointless to keep track of the ticking over of days here. What good did that accomplish, existing past a point of expiration--
He shakes his head; that was the wrong direction for distraction. And Emet-Selch doubted that Mettaton has at all forgotten the doom that hangs over him, dragon-shaped and indifferent, and that the conversation now was equally about distraction as it was interest (though he supposes the interest part was still genuine, for some reason). But it was a glimmer of distraction that the Ascian didn't mind indulging in itself, as meaningless as the topic seemed to him. Even if it wouldn't be possible to relax entirely until the problem was solved, that would take some time; if he could provide some kind of break to that gnawing concern, that was all to the good.
But Spring to Autumn... all the things they had in opposite, from the notable to the mundane. And considering the seasonal inverse of the Wilde- opposites that could technically coexist at the same time. The Ascian is not going to mention this.]
It sounds as though you're used to having some manner of celebration. [An opportunity to celebrate... himself. Of course Mettaton would embrace every chance of it.] Is there anything you prefer to do for the... occasion, as lengthy as you might attempt to make it?
[Claiming a whole month- a whole season still struck him as absurd, but- gods help him, he'd probably have to get something for his Bonded. Mettaton seemed like the sort of person who would appreciate that, and he cared about him enough to take preferences like that into account. How annoying.
At least he had time to think about it, he supposed, sighing again.]
no subject
[Assuming his death was immutable, inescapable- it felt that much more pointless to keep track of the ticking over of days here. What good did that accomplish, existing past a point of expiration--
He shakes his head; that was the wrong direction for distraction. And Emet-Selch doubted that Mettaton has at all forgotten the doom that hangs over him, dragon-shaped and indifferent, and that the conversation now was equally about distraction as it was interest (though he supposes the interest part was still genuine, for some reason). But it was a glimmer of distraction that the Ascian didn't mind indulging in itself, as meaningless as the topic seemed to him. Even if it wouldn't be possible to relax entirely until the problem was solved, that would take some time; if he could provide some kind of break to that gnawing concern, that was all to the good.
But Spring to Autumn... all the things they had in opposite, from the notable to the mundane. And considering the seasonal inverse of the Wilde- opposites that could technically coexist at the same time. The Ascian is not going to mention this.]
It sounds as though you're used to having some manner of celebration. [An opportunity to celebrate... himself. Of course Mettaton would embrace every chance of it.] Is there anything you prefer to do for the... occasion, as lengthy as you might attempt to make it?
[Claiming a whole month- a whole season still struck him as absurd, but- gods help him, he'd probably have to get something for his Bonded. Mettaton seemed like the sort of person who would appreciate that, and he cared about him enough to take preferences like that into account. How annoying.
At least he had time to think about it, he supposed, sighing again.]