[Emet-Selch would have to agree that Mettaton's presence had brought with it a form of respite, against all odds and good sense. The Ascian was still tired, but differently so (or at least, in a more pleasant way in addition to his usual way). Though alarming in its intensity, everything had served as a disruption, a scattering of thoughts, and considering the usual nature of his thoughts, that probably counted as an undisputed good.]
I could make a similar claim... as I believe I'll carry the marks of your ardor for some time. [Not that the Ascian could see his own neck, but the treatment of it had felt nicely extensive.] Well... I suppose I'll certainly need to keep you alive now.
[Not that he wouldn't have before, but he felt a particular investment in it by this point. His first project would have to be creating some Amaurotine-worthy glass to replace that slowly-shattering casing. Considering his specialties and foreknowledge, Emet-Selch didn't think it would take terribly long, but he did want to have the chance to test his creation properly before any installation. Then he could delve into the intricacies of finding a means to permit a machine body a physical climax. Survival over pleasure.
One of the more absurd projects he'd ever devoted his attention to, but it would keep him occupied.
Though it was reassuring to hear that Mettaton had enjoyed himself already nonetheless. Not that Emet-Selch hadn't thought as much, but... he hoped he'd been able to feel some version of satisfaction in all of this. And was becoming a trace concerned for what would happen if he did somehow attain for him more functional anatomy. If they were this taken by one another now....]
And I'm only partially crushed, I assure you.
[He even manages a bit of lightness, finally, and when Mettaton's face moves to his neck, the Ascian wraps both of his arms back around him, loosely, but certainly not trying to push him off anywhere. Tilting his head a little against his, he encourages the puca to remain close.]
no subject
I could make a similar claim... as I believe I'll carry the marks of your ardor for some time. [Not that the Ascian could see his own neck, but the treatment of it had felt nicely extensive.] Well... I suppose I'll certainly need to keep you alive now.
[Not that he wouldn't have before, but he felt a particular investment in it by this point. His first project would have to be creating some Amaurotine-worthy glass to replace that slowly-shattering casing. Considering his specialties and foreknowledge, Emet-Selch didn't think it would take terribly long, but he did want to have the chance to test his creation properly before any installation. Then he could delve into the intricacies of finding a means to permit a machine body a physical climax. Survival over pleasure.
One of the more absurd projects he'd ever devoted his attention to, but it would keep him occupied.
Though it was reassuring to hear that Mettaton had enjoyed himself already nonetheless. Not that Emet-Selch hadn't thought as much, but... he hoped he'd been able to feel some version of satisfaction in all of this. And was becoming a trace concerned for what would happen if he did somehow attain for him more functional anatomy. If they were this taken by one another now....]
And I'm only partially crushed, I assure you.
[He even manages a bit of lightness, finally, and when Mettaton's face moves to his neck, the Ascian wraps both of his arms back around him, loosely, but certainly not trying to push him off anywhere. Tilting his head a little against his, he encourages the puca to remain close.]