[Was it unfair to hold this Soren accountable for uncontrolled attacks against his Bonded? Probably. But it wasn't about to stop him, especially when hearing any detail of the assault on Mettaton... how without intervention, he might well have pierced the core of him. Had he shown any remorse for his actions...? The Ascian assumed not, if he claimed not to remember. Why feel guilty for acts one couldn't recall? But responsibility remained.
And electricity worked, at least. Something for him to remember. And also something to research: what was effective and what wasn't, when it came to this particular type of monster? Emet-Selch had looked into dragons in general, with K'rihnn being one- but the miqo'te was a thunder dragon; a black dragon presumably had different capabilities.
But he pushes aside the thought for the moment; violence may not be the last resort, but it wasn't the first resort either.
So: they were facing another mage (at least originally), and someone who seemed to not favor the obliteration of humanity. In the Ascian's book, that latter point was another strike against him, but it possibly made him less of a potential loose cannon. A dour sort of hero, perhaps. While it certainly wasn't an elimination of the danger, he could grudgingly lower the immediacy of it.]
From your description of him- dull and humorless, yet taken by heroic tales- 'tis entirely possible that he genuinely wants nothing from you. In such case, no offer you could make would sway him, and with no obvious gain to telling anyone of it, no reason to bother.
But should such a reason appear... well, I suppose it would depend on what it was. Whether he would gain more from having this leverage over you, or more from revealing it without warning.
[But there was no guarantee that the Ascian's assessment was correct- that this was an indifference of neutrality, and not one of carelessness, where it was information to spread on a whim because the content of it just didn't matter.]
Avoidance is mere mitigation... but there may be some means of removing the threat. Non-lethally, of course.
[In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have offered to kill someone over these devices. How secure were they? But there was no need for providing further evidence of planned wrongdoing (though there was nothing wrong about any of this). And if there was magic that existed for solving this problem, Emet-Selch very much doubted that it was of an approved variety.]
[It's not reassuring to think that his very private history hangs in the balance between usefulness and uselessness to this other Mirrorbound. He wishes hard that Soren wasn't dreaming that night, or that any other Mirrorbound chanced upon that memory of his in his place.
Or maybe not. If Mikasa saw that memory, he feels she probably wouldn't regard him the same. Does he have any evidence of that? No, but he's convinced of it. He'd rather she didn't see it, either. He doesn't know which he'd prefer, in the end. Neither.
Because he'd rather Soren didn't know this at all. He'd rather nobody did, save for the company he decides gets to know it.]
Everything was going so well before this. Nobody else knows. Only you and Alphys. [For obvious reasons.
Mettaton's not entirely aware of all of the magic that exists in Aefenglom. After all, learning that teleportation and conjuration was concept was a revelation to him, so other things always manage to surprise him as well. But he easily conceptualizes the existence of magic that must be able to manipulate the mind — after all, the reason theater was banned was because of a Witch who altered people's perception of him to favor him completely.
He himself is vaguely aware of the fact that devices are not always secure. Existing around Alphys would do that to him, not that he thinks anything they've said is bad. He'd threaten people over an unsecured channel!]
If there were some way to undo his knowing... Do you suppose magic exists that could easily pluck that memory from his head? Otherwise... I'm at the mercy of his whims, or his plans. Whatever those are.
[He hopes Soren never cares to talk about him. He hopes Soren's the type to keep his word, even if he's not the type to understand Mettaton's need for privacy. But regardless of his hopes, he feels secure in knowing Emet-Selch is so ready to help him. Of course he would be. They'd both rise to each other's defense.
And Mettaton feels suddenly that even were the whole city to learn, somehow... maybe, Emet-Selch would help him even then. Whether that was dealing with people who felt that to be objectionable, or erasing their collective knowledge of Mettaton's truth, he'd somehow help him. They'd both try. It calms him down somewhat.]
Edited (added some stuff at the end) 2020-06-24 23:40 (UTC)
[It certainly did open up the possibility that Soren might not be the only voyeur when it came to rummaging through mirrors that didn't belong to them (it was entirely fine for Emet-Selch or Mettaton to traipse through whatever they liked, however). Had anyone else snuck in before they found it? It must've been a limited window of opportunity....
But it was pointless to worry about. No one else had approached Mettaton with the information, so either there were no other witnesses, or they'd never made the connection with his current self. ...Or, he supposed, as in this case, that they just hadn't gotten around to letting Mettaton know that they knew about him.
He sighs. In any case, there was only one dragon-shaped problem before them now.]
It's not something anyone else needs to know.
[So they would fix it. Emet-Selch doesn't even question his immediate dedication to this plan, to the necessity of it. The Ascian was nothing if not dutiful when it came to the important things pertaining to the people he cared for.
This was a critical aspect to Mettaton's identity. Of course he would do all he could to preserve it.]
It's not a memory he has any right to... so taking it back from him is only fair, don't you think?
[Even if the whole city were to learn...
...it wasn't as though Emet-Selch hadn't killed far more than cities worth of people in his time. The only difficulty would be means. But he'd undoubtedly try. One by one, if necessary... their lives, their memories, what did they matter to him? They weren't even alive. Their agency might as well not exist.]
I'll find a way. Why else has this place given me its magic?
[That resolute conclusion fills Mettaton with a sort of anticipatory relief, one less dreadful than the possibility of doing away with the Dragon boy. Because sure, it would suck to have to kill him, but it's less bad to tamper with his memories. Brainwashing and stuff is all fine, no real harm done.
From his place post-show, Mettaton leans back in a chair in his relief, holding the watch above his head as his ears flop over the back of the seat.]
Yes... you're right. It's only fair. He really shouldn't have seen that memory. Anything else would have been acceptable, but not those.
[As if Soren picked it. Mettaton, too, thinks that he and Emet-Selch were valid in treating this as a memory free-for-all. Only the two of them are give any pass.]
Thank you, darling. You know how much this means to me... Naturally, I'll facilitate your efforts, lacking in the ability to do magic as I am. I'll do anything to ensure our success.
[Emet-Selch may be the practicing Witch behind the efforts, but Mettaton is the inertia, and he's willing to embrace that role. If he could do magic, he'd be investigating such a spell for himself. Not that he can't get started on that as he is. If he could find anything for his Bonded to learn from, it'll help.
What they have: a plan (memory removal); the hope for time (due to Soren's supposed indifference); a back-up plan (death). It's more than Mettaton had prior to contacting Emet-Selch, and what more would he have hoped for? Of course Emet-Selch would be there for him. He's proven it time and again. It's not a problem yet dealt with, but Mettaton already feels like it's only a matter of time.]
[Really... what is the harm? What could go wrong? It's not a memory that the dragon values, nor one that he even intends on using (hopefully). Losing it would be to the greater good of everyone, including the dragon himself (because it would mean not dying instead)! A solution where everyone wins... how unusual.]
Precisely. Belated as it is, we'll only be rectifying an error on his part.
[Even though the 'solution' had eventually come from elsewhere, Mettaton had helped him when he was facing the effects of overbonding. Wanting to assist in the robot's dilemma now wasn't so much returning the favor as... the natural thing to do. Of course he would help. The only oddity was in knowing someone worth his assistance.
And a magic like this... who knows, it might come in useful elsewhere. There was no part of this that would be a wasted effort.]
I've no doubt that with our resources, we'll soon find an acceptable conclusion to this affair.
[Thusly motivated, they are probably a terrible force to be reckoned with. Dubious morality, devotion to one another, and relentless if provoked- it's something of a combination.]
I assume you've given him no cause for concern? No reason to believe you might seek out a solution that he may not approve of? No careless threats to his well-being?
[That would increase the potential threat level... and reduce the amount of time they had at their disposal.]
[They would be an unstoppable pair when they collectively want something beyond a passing want or an idle curiosity. They've demonstrated it again and again for one another; this is just an external use of that force...
How useful mind control magic could be. Even Mettaton idly considers it, comparing it to the use of an enchantment that managed to get theater banned. Mind control would, no doubt, be worse. A mental note not to fall prey to the desire to use it for any reasons related to stardom, even though Mettaton, once again, doesn't see the big deal in mind controlling an audience... save for the fact that he imagines he could do it without magic.
Not quite like what Soren requires, however. Not only does Soren seem to dislike him (ugh), but no persuasion could make him lose a memory, unless it's persuasion with a blunt object and a gamble for amnesia.]
Anything careless... No, nothing like that. I asserted that I would give him anything I had as compensation. No matter what I offered, he kept telling me that no trade or promise would placate me. Maybe he was right.
[In reality, Soren was being practical-minded: why would Mettaton believe a promise from a mere stranger? Unfortunately, he would have at first. All it would take for Mettaton is an authentic display of complete reassurance, which obviously didn't happen. It's too late for that. Mettaton can't see his position. In retrospect, he almost thinks it's silly that he trusted Soren so readily, that he would have accepted a promise from him.]
I had no options at the time but to accept that he had this on me, otherwise.
[Mind control was just one of those things that was fine to use on others, when there was some reason to do so. Using it on either of them would be unacceptable, of course. Just another of their fortunate little exemptions to the laws and morals that governed most everyone else.
But if he were in a mood towards charitability, he'd have to give Soren some credit for his blunt honesty. A simple promise would not have been believable, would not have settled the issue- though Emet-Selch could well believe that Mettaton would have trusted him, at least initially. A trait like that... was one of the reasons why he'd come to care about him so dearly. To be capable of trust unwarranted.
But whether out of naivety or desperation, Mettaton might well have hung onto a meaningless promise were one extended to him. But the Ascian also thought that the reassurance of it wouldn't have held in the long term, once the initial panic had worn off; that the more trusting robot would've come to realize on his own how very little those words would've amounted to.]
That's all to the best, honestly... both that you refrained from threats, and that he did spare you the pretense of being anything other than callous. Had he been duplicitous he may well have promised you anything you desired, in return for anything you offered, only to betray you when convenient.
[Not doing so probably meant he was sincere in his apathy, in his disregard for the memory witnessed.]
Even were he the thoughtful sort who recognized the importance of what he'd beheld, and offered a promise genuine... there would be no telling the difference between that and a lie.
[And it wouldn't erase the problem of someone else knowing in the first place. So really... messy situation aside, this was probably the best outcome. An indifferent sort who Mettaton didn't care for... yes, as targets went, there would be few better ones.]
Were this one of your favored humans instead, what would you have wanted?
[Mettaton felt at the time that Soren was being duplicitous by outlining what he could do and what he would do, if it came to that. But maybe Emet-Selch's right. The fact that Soren was so forthright with how deception could be used here and how he couldn't be truly persuaded, could betray him at any time, may be the best outcome. To Mettaton, it was an admission that he couldn't be trusted with a secret of this importance. At least he spared him that pretense.
Which leaves him with two options, only one of which is acceptable: make the memory go away.
The question Emet-Selch poses has Mettaton type up a few quick, knee-jerk replies, but he has to succumb to reclining for a bit longer to think on it. He tries to imagine a scenario where Mikasa, or Eren, or Mira, or Amadeus suddenly came to learn that he's a ghost, not purely a robot imbued with an artificial soul or... whatever his story is that he can't keep straight. (He needs to work on that.)
He can't fathom it. He wonders if they'd think of him the same. It's not just that, however. It feels invasive in a way he dislikes... If they learned the way Soren did, he would feel wronged. (But what if he told them, the way he told Emet-Selch? He's not sure of that, either. He doesn't know that humans should know.)
So his response is a bit slow to take.]
If they traded places perfectly with Soren... I don't know.
If I could have exactly what I wanted. I might want them to forget, too. I don't think I could take knowing that they saw.
[Right. Maybe it's the idea that he saw that disturbs him so greatly, in addition to all implications. Mettaton has a lot of issues with form, and it's not difficult to tell based on the way he carries himself. If he told any of them, they would only know what Mettaton had to say, a verbal conveyance of the record. Not perceiving him at all. Apparently, like any good ghost, Mettaton hates being perceived. (Yet he thrives on being perceived the way he wants to be seen.)
It would be different if he surrendered the memory on his own accord, or achieved a level of trust the way he did with Emet-Selch. But it's unnecessary information none of them require, he thinks. He'd sooner tell them than let them see.]
[Both the delay and Mettaton's eventual decision don't surprise him. This was an aspect of his life that he was fiercely, fiercely protective of; a matter of identity that couldn't be soothed or eased with a few words of reassurance. For someone so generally confident to be so discomforted by something- it filled the Ascian with an annoying amount of sympathy. He didn't like knowing he was shaken, and would be likely to remain so until this was solved. Who wouldn't be unsettled, to have information worth protecting falling into the hands of someone who didn't care?
He wondered distantly if would've gone better if Mettaton had some choice in the matter, if it were his decision to tell, to provide only the detail he decided on. And the Ascian thought it might, yet at the same time- that would inherently still be a choice under duress, wouldn't it? Emet-Selch couldn't imagine him volunteering anything unless the alternative was even worse.
Mettaton's slow reveal of information to himself, though... yes, he supposed that was probably the closest to a voluntary affair. And that was only because he'd guessed at the robot's nature on his own, rather than needing told or finding out elsewhere. And with that starting point, Mettaton had been able to disclose more about himself at his own pace, more or less. A sharing of selves....
While he doubted the man would've wanted him to ever see what he had... the opportunity had only come about after trust had been built. And Mettaton could have refused him, and Emet-Selch would've listened (even if it would've damaged his own trust of him, to be denied).
Control of the information, he thought- that was probably crucial. Not being in the same category as humanity probably helped as well. In the presence of another ghost... there was less need for a facade. Emet-Selch felt the same way, after all.]
If that's the case....
[It's something he has to think a moment on himself. But the conclusion arrives quickly. There could really be only one choice in the end.]
Should such an outcome come about, regardless of all our efforts- there's no one here I would refuse to act upon. That much, at least... you may be assured of.
[That's not to say there weren't those he would hesitate with. Or that he wouldn't regret the necessity of it, perhaps. But it wouldn't stop him. He'd done far worse things for the sake of people he cared for.]
[It doesn't take long for Emet-Selch to give him a reply, a moment's worth of time, but he's taken by the watch and waiting for what Emet-Selch's thoughts are on that. His dedication should be expected, but it warms Mettaton's heart for the other man all the same. A mutual protectiveness and care, an attribute that ought to be present alongside love. He smiles.
Reaching out to Emet-Selch was the right choice, not that there was any other path he would have taken. He trusts him wholly.]
Having you to confide in... and to rely on. I feel better. Immeasurably. You know just how to ease my worries, dearest. I could kiss you.
[Onlookers watching this liberally reclining Puca and his leaning ears as he regards his device with a relieved grin and fixed attention probably think he's messaging a crush, with how totally absorbed he is by the device. They're right. Would That They Knew The Subject Matter, However.
The problem has yet to be solved. That much is true. But Emet-Selch's willingness to help Mettaton, no matter who should come into possession of his history in the future, is an immense relief in a city as precarious as Aefenglom. Who knew what sorts of spells or situations existed that might expose him? Yet with Emet-Selch to help him, he could feel secure in knowing that he'd be taken care of.
A thought strikes the robot. A curiosity he'd never addressed, surprisingly.]
You yourself very quickly admitted to me that you're an Ascian, though in description rather than in word. Do you prefer to keep that secret, here in Aefenglom? I imagine it was a necessity to keep it secret where you're from... Given the reactions I saw humans have to you.
[Twice... Well, Varis already knew, obviously. (He didn't appreciate it. Violence happened.) But there was the time he introduced himself as an Ascian, and all hackles were raised then. (They didn't appreciate it either. There was tension that could be cut with Thancred's readied blade.) Perhaps it has something to do with trying to usher in their demise...]
[Is there anything more romantic than one's beloved being willing to learn and perform Questionable Magics for their sake? Even if it meant going against the rest of the world and all within it? Surely not... surely anyone would agree to this.
But it was... good, to know that he'd been able to provide Mettaton some relief from that unsettled state he'd been in during the past few days. That he'd been able to do that for him with just a few words- was nice. And yet the Ascian's own look is a bit sad, and something he only permits himself because he's in private; he's not sure if he'll ever get used to being afforded the chance to have a positive effect on someone he cared for.]
I'm sure you could. Alas, 'tis a physical impossibility.
[Not being in the same location... is probably the only way they can keep their hands off each other.
The accompanying question comes as a slight surprise, but given the context of their conversation, he supposed it made sense. Unlike Mettaton, though, he didn't have any particular issues when it came to being a ghost-like entity. Though it was true that he didn't usually go out of his way to volunteer it, yet he had with the robot.... Still, facing the likelihood of death, keeping a detail like that to himself had felt pointless. Mettaton had incorrectly labeled him as a human, and he'd seen no reason not to correct him at the time.]
Here, 'Ascian' is not a word that would mean much of anything to anyone, save to those from my star. And when it comes to them, most already know what I am. But even at home, our existence is not common knowledge, and apart from a handful of individuals who attempt to track our activities, we remain an unknown.
As for a more practical description of my nature, in this place, I don't offer it to everyone, but nor do I specifically hide it. I've no particular identity to maintain here. And with no relevant abilities to speak of... what I used to be capable of is of little relevance.
My name and Amaurot are all that I truly care to keep private.
[Even then, Mettaton considers telling Emet-Selch to just teleport to him. The temptation is there. What's a physical impossibility between them? It doesn't stand a chance, as far as Mettaton's concerned.
And then they wouldn't be able to stay off each other, and Mettaton's in a particularly summery mood that he'd scarcely care about anyone around him, and it would only devolve from there. A repeat of the Looking-Glass House, only worse... A part of Mettaton's mind is dedicated to this very thought and scenario, fantasies about kissing his Bondmate at the forefront. But he's also preoccupied with the conversation, the unfortunate distance, and the still-present worries about Soren that have been soothed, but not eliminated.]
Amaurot too... I assumed as much. And now I know with certainty, what you consider classified.
[As chatty as Mettaton is, there are two things about him that have kept him from talking much about Emet-Selch to others, from inane details to matters of what he is or where he comes from. The first: Mettaton loves to talk about himself, particularly his capabilities and beauty (and not about his past, thank you). The second: nobody has really asked about his personal life, and Mettaton doesn't readily offer it without being pressed. Emet-Selch constitutes part of his personal life, as his Bonded and his lover.
Rereading, he registers that Emet-Selch has no identity to preserve here. He wonders what it must be like to be like him, caring so little whether or not somebody found out that he was an entity who lost his body and assumed a new one for a lack of one. That he's otherwise incorporeal. Aefenglom's general attitude toward the spectral is wary, and Mettaton dislikes the thought of a human treating him with wariness and concern, or worse. Emet-Selch, on the other hand, he could believe caring less for how others regarded him.
There could have been a hint of progress toward being less fearful of others learning that he's a ghost, but it doesn't occur. He chalks it up to their differences in energy and demeanor. Mettaton has his own misgivings, besides.]
Well. What you consider important is safe with me. Although switching back to Emet-Selch is always a difficulty... I like your name too much. But I manage.
[It is a temptation, and the awareness of it still causes him to sigh, shaking his head at this recently-found insatiability on his own part. With how prone they both were to one another... he suspected that even the barest hint of privacy would lead to escalations. A progression from scandalous hand-holding to suspiciously intense kissing, to an inevitability of biting. And worse. They were fortunate to have gotten away with it once, but eventually even Mettaton's considerable luck would give out.
So he turns instead to the conversation, concerns for this new crisis in the back of his mind, along with a certain resoluteness regarding it.]
Then I will appreciate both your attempts at discretion, as well as your preference for my name. Even so- 'tis not the same as your protectiveness over your own history. While I would detest strangers knowing of mine, it's not to the point of needing to erase their memory of it.
[The difference between something being personal, and being mortifying, he supposed. Few had any right to his name or past, but it wasn't something he was specifically hiding. It was only a matter of who deserved to know. And those numbers were drastically limited.
By comparison, being a ghost was of significantly less concern. Keeping it to himself was more a matter of keeping most things to himself, rather than a spectral-nature specifically. It helped, certainly, that the Ascian had considerable disdain for humanity. Why would he be interested in the opinion of something so far beneath him? Whether it was fear or acceptance, neither was a result that he cared anything for.]
But what of you? Apart from the obvious... is there anything you'd wish to keep private?
[While Emet-Selch was considerably less distractable when it came to discussions about himself, no matter his own superiority, he also kept his personal life, well, personal. Given an appropriate question, he might deign to answer it, but there was no reason to volunteer anything. So though he had no interest in hiding anything (they'd certainly had public conversations on the network which would no doubt imply something about their relationship), he'd also had no reason to specifically bring up being Bonded to him to much of anyone.
Which had, perhaps, backfired a little when he hadn't cared enough to inform any of his other Bonded when he'd taken on a fourth, but, that was all in the past now.... Perhaps he might even have learned something from that.]
Your name didn't strike me as something to be upset about... Yes. It's because only special people deserve to know it. Understood.
[Which is very different from his own origin or history, which he'd prefer nobody knows unless they already do, without his intervention, but within his control. It's a very delicate subject and with Emet-Selch serving as his Bondmate, he scarcely sees any need for anyone else to know. It's not as if anyone would think to ask of such a specific scenario, he thinks.
On the other hand, having a name of preference plus a title slots in with the Ascian's preferences about the way he conducts himself. Truly, having been stripped of all that he regards as his, he can see why he'd hold close what's important to him. It's the reverse of the way Mettaton flaunts what he considers his, but because Mettaton only gained, while Emet-Selch only lost. ...It's saddening to think on.]
Let's see... Well, I'm not forthright about my original build. The one intended to win the king's favor. It's as you said, when I first told you that I was built as a human eradication robot. Humans might not like that! But if one of them learned, I'd manage it. For example... I have told Mira that I was built as a weapon first, among a few others. Not that it was to destroy humans, though. Haha.
I can't think of much else. Oh. My age. I have a story to uphold! I claim I'm several years old. Nine, I think. Yes. I believe I would be almost nine, to the public.
Robots, darling. They start out life precisely as programmed. There is another robot here... he's scarcely a year old. You wouldn't guess it.
[Imagine Mettaton trying to ensure that fellow robots do not perceive him as anything but. It's an ordeal, but he's an actor, even though he fails at understanding his own body where most androids are calculating and accurate... It's fine. He makes it work.
From his place remotely, Mettaton nearly jumps in his interested realization. More of the learning process about his Bonded, more details he'd love to know should he possess them.]
That reminds me! Do you have a birthday?? Even old men like you surely have a beginning, thousands of years back.
[He was very amused when Vanitas called him, endearingly, "old man."]
[It was something of a belated thing to realize, that with Mettaton so careful to present a specific persona to the world, that it would be useful to know a few details if, for whatever reason, Emet-Selch needed to give any. Fortunately it hadn't come up, and even if it had- well, it would've been easy enough to shrug and say that he honestly didn't know, and wouldn't it be better to ask Mettaton directly for his personal information...? He'd probably still do that regardless....
But still, useful information nonetheless. And when it came to a more explicit past- Emet-Selch rather liked being one of only two people here who knew of it, and would agree entirely that Mettaton didn't need to share this part of himself any further. The idol was protective of it, and the Ascian was possessive of it.]
Yes, I'm unsurprised that you've avoided mentioning your supposed purpose for construction. As unfitting as you seem to that cause, humans are foolish, their feelings capricious.
[Because it's completely irrational to be uneasy around a robot who self-discloses that he was specifically created to destroy humanity.
A robot would be made to perform a specific way... so presumably Mettaton's eccentricities could be written off as an intended part of his design. Or an accidental flaw in construction. Or even just a quirk in the rules governing robots on another world. Some places had magic, and some did not... and some had stranger robots than others. Even when facing other robots, he thought it shouldn't be too strange of a thing to manage.
Old men... that has Emet-Selch side-eyeing the watch a little, indeed reminded of Vanitas' term for him. Not that it wasn't fitting, he couldn't exactly pretend otherwise, especially from the perspective of a mortal. But it wasn't as though he was anywhere near the oldest in the Convocation....]
And of course I have a birthday, though it's not as if the turns of days were smoothly translated over when the world was broken. And this place is even further removed from that.
It was in the late Spring, I can give you that much.
[So thankfully just past any point of picking a day here and going with that.]
Do you remember your own? Assuming you have one, of course.
[With all else they knew of each other- more heavy topics than not- it struck him as almost quaint that they'd eventually reach inane details like this. Did ghosts even have birthdays? Was there any point in an immortal marking the span of years?]
I wouldn't mind mentioning it too much, darling. Capricious as they are... I'm sure they would understand in the end. Haha...
[Mettaton is far less worried about people knowing, but at least he's learned to act with a bit of discretion. Some people can know, others might not be a good idea. It wasn't as though it would be a surprise that his people would want to defend themselves... Or kill just a few humans...
More importantly, he's excited to have received a birthday from his Bonded. Late Spring? Good enough for Mettaton! It's likely the most helpful measure he could have, given how different he can imagine some worlds operate. Seasons may even be different, but at least there's an approximate springtime in Aefenglom. (Two springtimes, if the Wilde counts! Mettaton's greedy.) He spares a moment to regard passersby on Aefenglom's streets, noting their attire for warmth with the acknowledgement that Spring has sprung and it's onto Summer already.
This world may not be even remotely close to Emet-Selch's, but Mettaton decides late Spring is his.]
Late Spring. That's perfect. I'm surprised! Not because of the time of year. But because late Spring just passed!! Of course you wouldn't make any note of it. Next time, beautiful.
[He wonders when the last time was that he even celebrated a birthday. (Is that something he was ever accustomed to doing?) More years yet to add atop Emet-Selch's stacks of years. A cake with so many candles on it, it may as well just be a bonfire. A thing to get a fire permit for... Mettaton amuses himself with this thought, because he likes the thought of his Bonded having a birthday at all (and his own humor). The robot just has that kind of energy. Someone excitable about small details like this, and there may be more reasons yet for that, because-]
My birthday... is whenever I want it to be, of course. [So his is "picking a day and going with it".] I pick a month... and that's my birthday! [Oh, or... "picking a month and going with it."] Really though, I wasn't born, like most beings. I'm sure you could have guessed. I don't know where I came from. I just started being! Though I don't have a clue when...
[Seasons do not exist Underground. Neither does any indication of the passing of time, lunar nor solar. He easily realized that was why Monsters in the underground civilization never had to worry about going feral on the full moon, because it simply didn't apply.]
The day I started being a robot. That was late October — mid-Autumn. I'm sure you can imagine what month I favor... but I can have any of them, as I like.
[Really, humans kill so many other humans, a robot made to do so just means he should fit right in. What better claim to humanity was there?]
I'd honestly forgotten. I can't recall the last time I made any notice of it.
[Though it had been mostly from a lack of inclination, the differences between Source and shard didn't help. On some occasions time flowed at the same speed between them, at others a hundred years could pass on one in the space of a few months on another. Even though he spent the majority of his time on the Source, it would've been futile to keep track of something so arbitrary. And those years spent asleep in the void between spaces- how would those even count?
That Mettaton would've been likely to do something for it doesn't surprise him. And Emet-Selch can't deny either the sense of relief that he'd narrowly avoided the attention, or the dread of him doing something for it next year. Yet at the same time... he found he didn't disapprove of the idea as much as he thought he would. It would mean they would both still be here in a year. And how terrible it was, to have to mark time in such small increments, that a single passing year together would be a cause for celebration.
(And how could he ever consider it like that at all? How could he desire to stay, even if going home wouldn't save anyone--)]
I'd wondered how entities like yourself came about....
[What other way could naturally-occurring ghosts exist, he supposed, other than just... appearing one day. A soul spontaneously manifesting, wrapped up in a non-corporeal shell. Did all ghosts consider themselves 'cousins'? It wasn't as though they could be related in the normal sense, but their shared nature could lead to a closer natural tie than most families....
But he hums to himself, unsurprised that Mettaton didn't know the specific day he'd begun existing, or even the time of year. A life spent wholly underground would make denoting any passage of time far more difficult. No time of day, much less time of year- time itself would be a hypothetical.]
Though if you select too many months, then it stops being special, doesn't it? [The Ascian is even more Unsurprised to hear Mettaton apparently deciding to select a month (or several), rather than content himself with a mere day. It gets a sigh from him.] The point when you became a robot seems as reasonable a time as any.
My origins are a mystery even to me, yes. I'm a blessing unprecedented.
[Given how people everywhere regard ghosts, he's wondered if he is the product of something dead after all... Who knows. Regardless, he's living now, and that's all that really matters to him. If he was something else before, he doesn't remember it. He doesn't think about it too hard.
Mettaton hums in turn, likewise unsurprised that Emet-Selch cannot remember the last he'd regarded his own birthday. It's somehow predictable of him, even if it's still remarkable. To have a concrete birthday - or at least, the rough figure of one - and not to pay it mind is far from what the idol would do, space-time complications aside. To have gone so far as to neglect it, at that... It checks out with so much else the Ascian has neglected about himself, he thinks. Indeed, as Emet-Selch fears, he'll change that. His is a birthday that will go fully acknowledged at the next opportunity, be it within Aefenglom's city limits, or out in the Wilde. Mettaton's not picky.
He doesn't even consider Emet-Selch or himself not being here, because he's busy thinking about this conversation happening right now, and what it pertains to. About birthdays. About knowing Emet-Selch's, and more concretely deciding his own — particularly relevant now that the sun is a thing, and time flows with meaning beyond squares on a calendar and the hands of a clock. He instead dreams about ways to celebrate, closing his eye.]
Any birthday of mine is special. There's never too much of a good thing! It was something to be excited about! An occasion for everyone to celebrate. But I'm glad you agree with my primary choice.
Since you're inclined to forget, I'll be sure to remember for you, Hades, darling. It wouldn't be hard to remember. After all, we're practically opposites again! How lovely.
[Thinking about birthdays is a distraction from the knowledge that another Mirrorbound possesses unwanted knowledge about him. And wouldn't promise to keep it secret, the way Mettaton wants. His attention's on his Bonded.]
Edited (I Wrote "Forget" Instead Of "Remember") 2020-06-27 09:49 (UTC)
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.]
[Of course his sentiment would be such... Mettaton snorts at the suggestion to forget because it's not relevant to him, though he doesn't connect that reason to his future demise. Instead he connects it to his apathy for the world they inhabit, its laws surely different from where he comes from. He feels inclined once more to kiss him, because he feels even freer to remember it.
So he writes,]
Such liberty to do as I please... I may just take your birthday, then. Yes, I WILL celebrate it.
[Weirdly threatening for just saying "I'm going to celebrate your birthday whether you like it or not." It's also one of the things he feels like biting him for suddenly...
Mettaton does not view his thirst for blood to be tiresome or unwanted. He stares at very human-appearing passersby. The robot remembers when he could smell Mira in a particularly tense moment, how she was just a Witch to him for a fleeting moment that he can barely grasp...
And just as quickly, he banishes the thought. Really, other Witches don't smell like Emet-Selch. There's no reason he'd want their blood as much, logically. That he would ever pursue anyone else's was surely because he only wanted Emet-Selch's. And that makes it all slot comfortably into place, even as he watches two obviously practicing Witches walking by hand-in-hand, watches their skin, thinks of the taste that pulses underneath. Yes, Mettaton's distracted. For him, it's a manageable distraction to the tune of arousal on a body that shows no signs of it. Similarly, he shows the public no signs of his hunger unless there were a perceptive eye in the crowd.
He's just thinking of Emet-Selch bruised and bitten and in his arms. And thinking of him makes him keep reading. Then, of course, he's made to think of himself, given the subject matter.]
I am used to it. Yes. I would get plenty of fan correspondence... Letters, flowers, gifts. Tributes to my splendor. When you have a birthday before a crowd, that's the sort of reception you'd expect. An abundance of adoration foisted upon you... Haha.
[Mettaton is the kind of person who would say he got "so many cards that he couldn't read them all," but he definitely reads every last word. Nonetheless, there wasn't as much in the ways of celebrating from anyone he considered close during those times. So when he thinks of that, he has to dig deeper, and he stops thinking of Witch blood altogether. He stops listening to people conversing around him, sinking into his spot.]
Before that. [Chewing on how to address whatever he did in more intimate company, he wonders if he should send anything like this at all. But of course he... could. Not should. That's part of what makes Emet-Selch unique company: he has the whole of him.] Sometimes... If I wanted to celebrate others, I would try to impress them with something nice. One time, Blooky made a mix CD for me, entirely without me knowing. It was pretty bad. I liked it.
[That was strangely threatening of a promise, which ends up hitting on his own stubbornness.]
Take it and do with it what you like, then. I won't be coming anywhere near it.
[Take his birthday so thoroughly, that it has nothing to do with him and he can just ignore the whole thing.
Though oblivious to any desires for a bite (or several; there was rarely just one), Emet-Selch would not be surprised by it. Nor would he ever think of discouraging the impulse, neither of the biting, nor of the taking of his blood. Both experiences had become... pleasant. Both the rush of pain and the thought of the accompanying drain. Perhaps even the drain itself when Mettaton took enough for him to notice the distinct way it felt as it was being pulled from him. The idea of filling his Bonded up that way, coupled with the sight of the resulting wounds left on his own body- was something that not-infrequently occurred to him.
But any chance of thinking about that now is deflected by the rest of Mettaton's reply. The first part was as expected- the kind of gifts one would get from adoring fans, and though by their nature impersonal, the Ascian doubted that the idol would scorn them. For a love of the attention, a receiving of adoration that was only to be expected- but also an appreciation of their feelings expressed.
But it's the second part that gets his attention, and it softens him a little to think about. That the morose and depressive ghost would still manage to find the energy to put something together for their cousin. And of course Mettaton would appreciate it, regardless of the gift's actual quality- because it was for him, because someone important cared enough for him to try. That Mettaton would choose to disclose this moment to him at all, while knowing how reticent he was of his past- also mattered.
It takes him some moments to reply.]
Your cousin must care for you a great deal.
[And how awkward it inevitably would be, when he revealed who he was to them. It was the sort of thought that has him want to pull the idol into an embrace, to press his face to his throat.]
I don't think I could ever match something so earnest... but I suppose I'll have to try to find you something appropriate when the season turns.
[It's the sort of retort that has Mettaton that much more craving of Emet-Selch's skin: the heat of his blood washing his tongue, the warmth of his vitality in his throat, the give of his body flush to his own. A demand to overtake and temper him, to show him how very present they'd both be for the event. The kind of wanting that he glares at his device for. Were anybody watching him closely, he would be a roller-coaster ride of emotional twists and loops in expression, and he grinds his teeth for lack of anywhere to sink them. Emet-Selch misses his point, and he doesn't think he feels threatened enough.
It reminds him a little of how the Ascian would tell him not to get accustomed to the look of surprise on him when in reality, Mettaton relishes it all the more for how frequently he can pull it from him. And so he dedicates himself to surprising him and keeping his attention, something he glares harder at his device for until he levels his gaze with the nightlife unfolding before him. Why is he here... and not where his Bonded is?
He rises to his feet in that moment, incensed and alert and excited, before he gets the next reply.
It softens him in turn. The acknowledgement that the ghost he left behind cares for him so is a bittersweet note, and it feels like too long ago since he's seen them. He saw Napstablook in a memory, but he also saw them right before he showed up here... Those are points to hang onto. He wonders if he'd see them here. If he could introduce Emet-Selch to them — after, of course, awkwardly coming clean once and for all.
And how awkward it would be. Mettaton feels less uncertain about it right now, compared to some months ago. He can't begin to figure out why, not in this moment, especially when his focus is shifted back to the Ascian's sentiments. Mettaton so quickly shifts from ravenous and passionate to tender and infatuated when it comes to Emet-Selch. For his Bonded to have such dramatic sway over his emotions... He feels he met someone very special in him.]
I'm not concerned about you matching anything, darling. So don't worry about that. I have faith in you for what you have a mind for.
[Mettaton has no expectations, but a bar of standard. He's neither easy nor difficult to impress, but affected nonetheless. Emet-Selch's wondering about comparing to his cousin in itself is endearing.]
How about you? Did you commonly celebrate your real birthday? As opposed to my mercurial one.
[Was that a flash of something he felt through the Bond? A demand, a frustration, a hunger? He can well imagine that Mettaton wouldn't have been pleased with his refusal to have anything to do with his own birthday. A refusal that had more to do with pettiness rather than any deep-seated conviction, a stubbornness out of habit. And that if Mettaton were before him now, that they would've begun to tear at each other, his own body so much more fragile and blood-filled than the robot's, but no less willing to give in. And they would take--
--But it had faded just as quickly back and- Emet-Selch wasn't entirely certain if he'd imagined the whole thing. If he'd just been caught up in his idea of Mettaton's disapproval and passion, as well as to how it could fade back into tenderness just as easily. With just a few words of genuine sentiment, a memory invoked.]
Well, we'll see. 'Tis not an effort that I've regularly indulged in.
[And yet here he was, desiring to do unnecessary things. But he knew that Mettaton's relationship with his cousin was different than his relationship with the Ascian; there was no competition there. But he did want to please him. Or at the very least, not disappoint.
While he'd always known that Bonding with the puca was bound to be troublesome, he hadn't expected this to be one of the ways.]
And I'm sure it will come as no great surprise that I did not. My lack of interest in it was not unusual, however- with as long-lived as we were, any individual year might as well have been a day or an hour: so numerous as to be made mundane.
Moreover. It wasn't frowned on exactly... but to be so individually-invested was not a commonplace desire.
[It doesn't even occur to him to specify that this all applied to Amaurot alone. The idea of celebrating anything after the sundering would've been absurd.]
So with no tradition for it, I'm sure you can see why I'll continue in my lifetime of apathy to the bitter end.
[It's just as well that he doesn't think to address anything but Amaurot, because that's what Mettaton's thinking of. The aspect of birthdays losing meaning with years... It makes sense, even though Mettaton's own excitability over things like this scarcely wanes, only takes on new shades and variables. There's nothing mundane about the way the robot would like to live his life — he's been there, he's not a fan, time can disappear with the blink of an eye. Nothing provoking, nothing interesting, nothing stimulating. The Underground was full of that.
How did Emet-Selch deal with it... It makes more sense yet to read that being "individually-invested," or wanting to stand out, wasn't commonplace. He nods to himself. No wonder they didn't appear to care for fashion! No wonder even architecture was formed with such resonant harmony, not one building vying for attention over another! He's contrasting with human cities he's seen in movies with their advertisingsplendorandbrightlights, all things Mettaton... likes... and did not see in Amaurot. It was closer to the towering pressure he wanted than Aefenglom, far closer to the city strips he'd dreamed of, but quite different. Orderly. Beautiful. Elegant. And Mettaton thought that if he were unleashed in such a city, he'd have a hard time figuring out which building was which. Lacking individuality.
He hums thoughtfully. They're not talking about cities, though. Though an undercurrent of possessiveness remains, he remains in a more thoughtful state than a fervent one.]
Then... I'll ensnare you in my own captivation for such investment. I think you can break your streak of apathy a little... and celebrate a birthday. Something exciting to occupy one of those mundane days or hours! An indulgence, yes.
[Even if he's sure Emet-Selch isn't inclined toward being so center stage, it's not like it has to be like that. That may be Mettaton's thing, but he acknowledges their differences. Even if it were just himself, he would be content celebrating Emet-Selch.
Already, Mettaton brainstorms "good ways to celebrate Emet-Selch." A lack of desire for material goods, it would be easy for Mettaton to deliver his sentiment through means of expression. He knows already there are other things he could give him any day, but things made special by dedicating them upon him specifically for a day. Mettaton's aim is always to impress, and he has no doubt he could. He's nothing if not confident in his ability to inspire.]
You wouldn't protest to my want to celebrate you, would you? As I am invested in you, after all...
Edited (he could break his Steak of Apathy, too, i guess) 2020-06-28 05:23 (UTC)
[Emet-Selch would be surprised to hear that Mettaton thought Amaurot, in its beautiful elegance (that part was right) lacked individuality itself. Or thought it would be hard to navigate on his own. Surely the Ascian's memorization of the city, down to the placement of individual trees, had nothing to do with his idea of how easy or otherwise the place would be to get around in to an outsider.
Mettaton's insistence on giving any sort of attention to a birthday still pulls a continued frown from him, directed at the watch, as though that would make any more of a difference compared to directing it at Mettaton directly. It was fine for the robot to be interested in things like that for himself- considering how captivated he was by mortal habits, it was to be expected, and who else would care about the recording of years?- but why inflict it on someone uninterested?
While on one hand, he could appreciate Mettaton's desire for appreciation of him. It was warranted, of course. But on several other hands (somehow) he resisted the concept entirely.]
Anything that you would call exciting I doubt I would want to get anywhere near of. So yes- I would protest.
[Though he can guess that Mettaton would try to take his preferences into account, and that it wouldn't be a wholly terrible experience, but that doesn't make him like the idea that much more. He'd tolerate it if it happened, but--]
Besides. It seems a morbid thing to celebrate. An accruing of years in this place... knowing that it shall never be reflected elsewhere. No, I still want no part in that.
[Time could only keep ticking over for him here. He already spent enough time dwelling on that, he didn't care to devote a specific day to doing nothing else.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Was it unfair to hold this Soren accountable for uncontrolled attacks against his Bonded? Probably. But it wasn't about to stop him, especially when hearing any detail of the assault on Mettaton... how without intervention, he might well have pierced the core of him. Had he shown any remorse for his actions...? The Ascian assumed not, if he claimed not to remember. Why feel guilty for acts one couldn't recall? But responsibility remained.
And electricity worked, at least. Something for him to remember. And also something to research: what was effective and what wasn't, when it came to this particular type of monster? Emet-Selch had looked into dragons in general, with K'rihnn being one- but the miqo'te was a thunder dragon; a black dragon presumably had different capabilities.
But he pushes aside the thought for the moment; violence may not be the last resort, but it wasn't the first resort either.
So: they were facing another mage (at least originally), and someone who seemed to not favor the obliteration of humanity. In the Ascian's book, that latter point was another strike against him, but it possibly made him less of a potential loose cannon. A dour sort of hero, perhaps. While it certainly wasn't an elimination of the danger, he could grudgingly lower the immediacy of it.]
From your description of him- dull and humorless, yet taken by heroic tales- 'tis entirely possible that he genuinely wants nothing from you. In such case, no offer you could make would sway him, and with no obvious gain to telling anyone of it, no reason to bother.
But should such a reason appear... well, I suppose it would depend on what it was. Whether he would gain more from having this leverage over you, or more from revealing it without warning.
[But there was no guarantee that the Ascian's assessment was correct- that this was an indifference of neutrality, and not one of carelessness, where it was information to spread on a whim because the content of it just didn't matter.]
Avoidance is mere mitigation... but there may be some means of removing the threat. Non-lethally, of course.
[In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have offered to kill someone over these devices. How secure were they? But there was no need for providing further evidence of planned wrongdoing (though there was nothing wrong about any of this). And if there was magic that existed for solving this problem, Emet-Selch very much doubted that it was of an approved variety.]
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[It's not reassuring to think that his very private history hangs in the balance between usefulness and uselessness to this other Mirrorbound. He wishes hard that Soren wasn't dreaming that night, or that any other Mirrorbound chanced upon that memory of his in his place.
Or maybe not. If Mikasa saw that memory, he feels she probably wouldn't regard him the same. Does he have any evidence of that? No, but he's convinced of it. He'd rather she didn't see it, either. He doesn't know which he'd prefer, in the end. Neither.
Because he'd rather Soren didn't know this at all. He'd rather nobody did, save for the company he decides gets to know it.]
Everything was going so well before this. Nobody else knows. Only you and Alphys. [For obvious reasons.
Mettaton's not entirely aware of all of the magic that exists in Aefenglom. After all, learning that teleportation and conjuration was concept was a revelation to him, so other things always manage to surprise him as well. But he easily conceptualizes the existence of magic that must be able to manipulate the mind — after all, the reason theater was banned was because of a Witch who altered people's perception of him to favor him completely.
He himself is vaguely aware of the fact that devices are not always secure. Existing around Alphys would do that to him, not that he thinks anything they've said is bad. He'd threaten people over an unsecured channel!]
If there were some way to undo his knowing... Do you suppose magic exists that could easily pluck that memory from his head? Otherwise... I'm at the mercy of his whims, or his plans. Whatever those are.
[He hopes Soren never cares to talk about him. He hopes Soren's the type to keep his word, even if he's not the type to understand Mettaton's need for privacy. But regardless of his hopes, he feels secure in knowing Emet-Selch is so ready to help him. Of course he would be. They'd both rise to each other's defense.
And Mettaton feels suddenly that even were the whole city to learn, somehow... maybe, Emet-Selch would help him even then. Whether that was dealing with people who felt that to be objectionable, or erasing their collective knowledge of Mettaton's truth, he'd somehow help him. They'd both try. It calms him down somewhat.]
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But it was pointless to worry about. No one else had approached Mettaton with the information, so either there were no other witnesses, or they'd never made the connection with his current self. ...Or, he supposed, as in this case, that they just hadn't gotten around to letting Mettaton know that they knew about him.
He sighs. In any case, there was only one dragon-shaped problem before them now.]
It's not something anyone else needs to know.
[So they would fix it. Emet-Selch doesn't even question his immediate dedication to this plan, to the necessity of it. The Ascian was nothing if not dutiful when it came to the important things pertaining to the people he cared for.
This was a critical aspect to Mettaton's identity. Of course he would do all he could to preserve it.]
It's not a memory he has any right to... so taking it back from him is only fair, don't you think?
[Even if the whole city were to learn...
...it wasn't as though Emet-Selch hadn't killed far more than cities worth of people in his time. The only difficulty would be means. But he'd undoubtedly try. One by one, if necessary... their lives, their memories, what did they matter to him? They weren't even alive. Their agency might as well not exist.]
I'll find a way. Why else has this place given me its magic?
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From his place post-show, Mettaton leans back in a chair in his relief, holding the watch above his head as his ears flop over the back of the seat.]
Yes... you're right. It's only fair. He really shouldn't have seen that memory. Anything else would have been acceptable, but not those.
[As if Soren picked it. Mettaton, too, thinks that he and Emet-Selch were valid in treating this as a memory free-for-all. Only the two of them are give any pass.]
Thank you, darling. You know how much this means to me... Naturally, I'll facilitate your efforts, lacking in the ability to do magic as I am. I'll do anything to ensure our success.
[Emet-Selch may be the practicing Witch behind the efforts, but Mettaton is the inertia, and he's willing to embrace that role. If he could do magic, he'd be investigating such a spell for himself. Not that he can't get started on that as he is. If he could find anything for his Bonded to learn from, it'll help.
What they have: a plan (memory removal); the hope for time (due to Soren's supposed indifference); a back-up plan (death). It's more than Mettaton had prior to contacting Emet-Selch, and what more would he have hoped for? Of course Emet-Selch would be there for him. He's proven it time and again. It's not a problem yet dealt with, but Mettaton already feels like it's only a matter of time.]
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Precisely. Belated as it is, we'll only be rectifying an error on his part.
[Even though the 'solution' had eventually come from elsewhere, Mettaton had helped him when he was facing the effects of overbonding. Wanting to assist in the robot's dilemma now wasn't so much returning the favor as... the natural thing to do. Of course he would help. The only oddity was in knowing someone worth his assistance.
And a magic like this... who knows, it might come in useful elsewhere. There was no part of this that would be a wasted effort.]
I've no doubt that with our resources, we'll soon find an acceptable conclusion to this affair.
[Thusly motivated, they are probably a terrible force to be reckoned with. Dubious morality, devotion to one another, and relentless if provoked- it's something of a combination.]
I assume you've given him no cause for concern? No reason to believe you might seek out a solution that he may not approve of? No careless threats to his well-being?
[That would increase the potential threat level... and reduce the amount of time they had at their disposal.]
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How useful mind control magic could be. Even Mettaton idly considers it, comparing it to the use of an enchantment that managed to get theater banned. Mind control would, no doubt, be worse. A mental note not to fall prey to the desire to use it for any reasons related to stardom, even though Mettaton, once again, doesn't see the big deal in mind controlling an audience... save for the fact that he imagines he could do it without magic.
Not quite like what Soren requires, however. Not only does Soren seem to dislike him (ugh), but no persuasion could make him lose a memory, unless it's persuasion with a blunt object and a gamble for amnesia.]
Anything careless... No, nothing like that. I asserted that I would give him anything I had as compensation. No matter what I offered, he kept telling me that no trade or promise would placate me. Maybe he was right.
[In reality, Soren was being practical-minded: why would Mettaton believe a promise from a mere stranger? Unfortunately, he would have at first. All it would take for Mettaton is an authentic display of complete reassurance, which obviously didn't happen. It's too late for that. Mettaton can't see his position. In retrospect, he almost thinks it's silly that he trusted Soren so readily, that he would have accepted a promise from him.]
I had no options at the time but to accept that he had this on me, otherwise.
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But if he were in a mood towards charitability, he'd have to give Soren some credit for his blunt honesty. A simple promise would not have been believable, would not have settled the issue- though Emet-Selch could well believe that Mettaton would have trusted him, at least initially. A trait like that... was one of the reasons why he'd come to care about him so dearly. To be capable of trust unwarranted.
But whether out of naivety or desperation, Mettaton might well have hung onto a meaningless promise were one extended to him. But the Ascian also thought that the reassurance of it wouldn't have held in the long term, once the initial panic had worn off; that the more trusting robot would've come to realize on his own how very little those words would've amounted to.]
That's all to the best, honestly... both that you refrained from threats, and that he did spare you the pretense of being anything other than callous. Had he been duplicitous he may well have promised you anything you desired, in return for anything you offered, only to betray you when convenient.
[Not doing so probably meant he was sincere in his apathy, in his disregard for the memory witnessed.]
Even were he the thoughtful sort who recognized the importance of what he'd beheld, and offered a promise genuine... there would be no telling the difference between that and a lie.
[And it wouldn't erase the problem of someone else knowing in the first place. So really... messy situation aside, this was probably the best outcome. An indifferent sort who Mettaton didn't care for... yes, as targets went, there would be few better ones.]
Were this one of your favored humans instead, what would you have wanted?
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Which leaves him with two options, only one of which is acceptable: make the memory go away.
The question Emet-Selch poses has Mettaton type up a few quick, knee-jerk replies, but he has to succumb to reclining for a bit longer to think on it. He tries to imagine a scenario where Mikasa, or Eren, or Mira, or Amadeus suddenly came to learn that he's a ghost, not purely a robot imbued with an artificial soul or... whatever his story is that he can't keep straight. (He needs to work on that.)
He can't fathom it. He wonders if they'd think of him the same. It's not just that, however. It feels invasive in a way he dislikes... If they learned the way Soren did, he would feel wronged. (But what if he told them, the way he told Emet-Selch? He's not sure of that, either. He doesn't know that humans should know.)
So his response is a bit slow to take.]
If they traded places perfectly with Soren... I don't know.
If I could have exactly what I wanted. I might want them to forget, too. I don't think I could take knowing that they saw.
[Right. Maybe it's the idea that he saw that disturbs him so greatly, in addition to all implications. Mettaton has a lot of issues with form, and it's not difficult to tell based on the way he carries himself. If he told any of them, they would only know what Mettaton had to say, a verbal conveyance of the record. Not perceiving him at all. Apparently, like any good ghost, Mettaton hates being perceived. (Yet he thrives on being perceived the way he wants to be seen.)
It would be different if he surrendered the memory on his own accord, or achieved a level of trust the way he did with Emet-Selch. But it's unnecessary information none of them require, he thinks. He'd sooner tell them than let them see.]
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He wondered distantly if would've gone better if Mettaton had some choice in the matter, if it were his decision to tell, to provide only the detail he decided on. And the Ascian thought it might, yet at the same time- that would inherently still be a choice under duress, wouldn't it? Emet-Selch couldn't imagine him volunteering anything unless the alternative was even worse.
Mettaton's slow reveal of information to himself, though... yes, he supposed that was probably the closest to a voluntary affair. And that was only because he'd guessed at the robot's nature on his own, rather than needing told or finding out elsewhere. And with that starting point, Mettaton had been able to disclose more about himself at his own pace, more or less. A sharing of selves....
While he doubted the man would've wanted him to ever see what he had... the opportunity had only come about after trust had been built. And Mettaton could have refused him, and Emet-Selch would've listened (even if it would've damaged his own trust of him, to be denied).
Control of the information, he thought- that was probably crucial. Not being in the same category as humanity probably helped as well. In the presence of another ghost... there was less need for a facade. Emet-Selch felt the same way, after all.]
If that's the case....
[It's something he has to think a moment on himself. But the conclusion arrives quickly. There could really be only one choice in the end.]
Should such an outcome come about, regardless of all our efforts- there's no one here I would refuse to act upon. That much, at least... you may be assured of.
[That's not to say there weren't those he would hesitate with. Or that he wouldn't regret the necessity of it, perhaps. But it wouldn't stop him. He'd done far worse things for the sake of people he cared for.]
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Reaching out to Emet-Selch was the right choice, not that there was any other path he would have taken. He trusts him wholly.]
Having you to confide in... and to rely on. I feel better. Immeasurably. You know just how to ease my worries, dearest. I could kiss you.
[Onlookers watching this liberally reclining Puca and his leaning ears as he regards his device with a relieved grin and fixed attention probably think he's messaging a crush, with how totally absorbed he is by the device. They're right. Would That They Knew The Subject Matter, However.
The problem has yet to be solved. That much is true. But Emet-Selch's willingness to help Mettaton, no matter who should come into possession of his history in the future, is an immense relief in a city as precarious as Aefenglom. Who knew what sorts of spells or situations existed that might expose him? Yet with Emet-Selch to help him, he could feel secure in knowing that he'd be taken care of.
A thought strikes the robot. A curiosity he'd never addressed, surprisingly.]
You yourself very quickly admitted to me that you're an Ascian, though in description rather than in word. Do you prefer to keep that secret, here in Aefenglom? I imagine it was a necessity to keep it secret where you're from... Given the reactions I saw humans have to you.
[Twice... Well, Varis already knew, obviously. (He didn't appreciate it. Violence happened.) But there was the time he introduced himself as an Ascian, and all hackles were raised then. (They didn't appreciate it either. There was tension that could be cut with Thancred's readied blade.) Perhaps it has something to do with trying to usher in their demise...]
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But it was... good, to know that he'd been able to provide Mettaton some relief from that unsettled state he'd been in during the past few days. That he'd been able to do that for him with just a few words- was nice. And yet the Ascian's own look is a bit sad, and something he only permits himself because he's in private; he's not sure if he'll ever get used to being afforded the chance to have a positive effect on someone he cared for.]
I'm sure you could. Alas, 'tis a physical impossibility.
[Not being in the same location... is probably the only way they can keep their hands off each other.
The accompanying question comes as a slight surprise, but given the context of their conversation, he supposed it made sense. Unlike Mettaton, though, he didn't have any particular issues when it came to being a ghost-like entity. Though it was true that he didn't usually go out of his way to volunteer it, yet he had with the robot.... Still, facing the likelihood of death, keeping a detail like that to himself had felt pointless. Mettaton had incorrectly labeled him as a human, and he'd seen no reason not to correct him at the time.]
Here, 'Ascian' is not a word that would mean much of anything to anyone, save to those from my star. And when it comes to them, most already know what I am. But even at home, our existence is not common knowledge, and apart from a handful of individuals who attempt to track our activities, we remain an unknown.
As for a more practical description of my nature, in this place, I don't offer it to everyone, but nor do I specifically hide it. I've no particular identity to maintain here. And with no relevant abilities to speak of... what I used to be capable of is of little relevance.
My name and Amaurot are all that I truly care to keep private.
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And then they wouldn't be able to stay off each other, and Mettaton's in a particularly summery mood that he'd scarcely care about anyone around him, and it would only devolve from there. A repeat of the Looking-Glass House, only worse... A part of Mettaton's mind is dedicated to this very thought and scenario, fantasies about kissing his Bondmate at the forefront. But he's also preoccupied with the conversation, the unfortunate distance, and the still-present worries about Soren that have been soothed, but not eliminated.]
Amaurot too... I assumed as much. And now I know with certainty, what you consider classified.
[As chatty as Mettaton is, there are two things about him that have kept him from talking much about Emet-Selch to others, from inane details to matters of what he is or where he comes from. The first: Mettaton loves to talk about himself, particularly his capabilities and beauty (and not about his past, thank you). The second: nobody has really asked about his personal life, and Mettaton doesn't readily offer it without being pressed. Emet-Selch constitutes part of his personal life, as his Bonded and his lover.
Rereading, he registers that Emet-Selch has no identity to preserve here. He wonders what it must be like to be like him, caring so little whether or not somebody found out that he was an entity who lost his body and assumed a new one for a lack of one. That he's otherwise incorporeal. Aefenglom's general attitude toward the spectral is wary, and Mettaton dislikes the thought of a human treating him with wariness and concern, or worse. Emet-Selch, on the other hand, he could believe caring less for how others regarded him.
There could have been a hint of progress toward being less fearful of others learning that he's a ghost, but it doesn't occur. He chalks it up to their differences in energy and demeanor. Mettaton has his own misgivings, besides.]
Well. What you consider important is safe with me. Although switching back to Emet-Selch is always a difficulty... I like your name too much. But I manage.
[it's short and the perfect amount of syllables]
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So he turns instead to the conversation, concerns for this new crisis in the back of his mind, along with a certain resoluteness regarding it.]
Then I will appreciate both your attempts at discretion, as well as your preference for my name. Even so- 'tis not the same as your protectiveness over your own history. While I would detest strangers knowing of mine, it's not to the point of needing to erase their memory of it.
[The difference between something being personal, and being mortifying, he supposed. Few had any right to his name or past, but it wasn't something he was specifically hiding. It was only a matter of who deserved to know. And those numbers were drastically limited.
By comparison, being a ghost was of significantly less concern. Keeping it to himself was more a matter of keeping most things to himself, rather than a spectral-nature specifically. It helped, certainly, that the Ascian had considerable disdain for humanity. Why would he be interested in the opinion of something so far beneath him? Whether it was fear or acceptance, neither was a result that he cared anything for.]
But what of you? Apart from the obvious... is there anything you'd wish to keep private?
[While Emet-Selch was considerably less distractable when it came to discussions about himself, no matter his own superiority, he also kept his personal life, well, personal. Given an appropriate question, he might deign to answer it, but there was no reason to volunteer anything. So though he had no interest in hiding anything (they'd certainly had public conversations on the network which would no doubt imply something about their relationship), he'd also had no reason to specifically bring up being Bonded to him to much of anyone.
Which had, perhaps, backfired a little when he hadn't cared enough to inform any of his other Bonded when he'd taken on a fourth, but, that was all in the past now.... Perhaps he might even have learned something from that.]
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[Which is very different from his own origin or history, which he'd prefer nobody knows unless they already do, without his intervention, but within his control. It's a very delicate subject and with Emet-Selch serving as his Bondmate, he scarcely sees any need for anyone else to know. It's not as if anyone would think to ask of such a specific scenario, he thinks.
On the other hand, having a name of preference plus a title slots in with the Ascian's preferences about the way he conducts himself. Truly, having been stripped of all that he regards as his, he can see why he'd hold close what's important to him. It's the reverse of the way Mettaton flaunts what he considers his, but because Mettaton only gained, while Emet-Selch only lost. ...It's saddening to think on.]
Let's see... Well, I'm not forthright about my original build. The one intended to win the king's favor. It's as you said, when I first told you that I was built as a human eradication robot. Humans might not like that! But if one of them learned, I'd manage it. For example... I have told Mira that I was built as a weapon first, among a few others. Not that it was to destroy humans, though. Haha.
I can't think of much else. Oh. My age. I have a story to uphold! I claim I'm several years old. Nine, I think. Yes. I believe I would be almost nine, to the public.
Robots, darling. They start out life precisely as programmed. There is another robot here... he's scarcely a year old. You wouldn't guess it.
[Imagine Mettaton trying to ensure that fellow robots do not perceive him as anything but. It's an ordeal, but he's an actor, even though he fails at understanding his own body where most androids are calculating and accurate... It's fine. He makes it work.
From his place remotely, Mettaton nearly jumps in his interested realization. More of the learning process about his Bonded, more details he'd love to know should he possess them.]
That reminds me! Do you have a birthday?? Even old men like you surely have a beginning, thousands of years back.
[He was very amused when Vanitas called him, endearingly, "old man."]
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But still, useful information nonetheless. And when it came to a more explicit past- Emet-Selch rather liked being one of only two people here who knew of it, and would agree entirely that Mettaton didn't need to share this part of himself any further. The idol was protective of it, and the Ascian was possessive of it.]
Yes, I'm unsurprised that you've avoided mentioning your supposed purpose for construction. As unfitting as you seem to that cause, humans are foolish, their feelings capricious.
[Because it's completely irrational to be uneasy around a robot who self-discloses that he was specifically created to destroy humanity.
A robot would be made to perform a specific way... so presumably Mettaton's eccentricities could be written off as an intended part of his design. Or an accidental flaw in construction. Or even just a quirk in the rules governing robots on another world. Some places had magic, and some did not... and some had stranger robots than others. Even when facing other robots, he thought it shouldn't be too strange of a thing to manage.
Old men... that has Emet-Selch side-eyeing the watch a little, indeed reminded of Vanitas' term for him. Not that it wasn't fitting, he couldn't exactly pretend otherwise, especially from the perspective of a mortal. But it wasn't as though he was anywhere near the oldest in the Convocation....]
And of course I have a birthday, though it's not as if the turns of days were smoothly translated over when the world was broken. And this place is even further removed from that.
It was in the late Spring, I can give you that much.
[So thankfully just past any point of picking a day here and going with that.]
Do you remember your own? Assuming you have one, of course.
[With all else they knew of each other- more heavy topics than not- it struck him as almost quaint that they'd eventually reach inane details like this. Did ghosts even have birthdays? Was there any point in an immortal marking the span of years?]
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[Mettaton is far less worried about people knowing, but at least he's learned to act with a bit of discretion. Some people can know, others might not be a good idea. It wasn't as though it would be a surprise that his people would want to defend themselves... Or kill just a few humans...
More importantly, he's excited to have received a birthday from his Bonded. Late Spring? Good enough for Mettaton! It's likely the most helpful measure he could have, given how different he can imagine some worlds operate. Seasons may even be different, but at least there's an approximate springtime in Aefenglom. (Two springtimes, if the Wilde counts! Mettaton's greedy.) He spares a moment to regard passersby on Aefenglom's streets, noting their attire for warmth with the acknowledgement that Spring has sprung and it's onto Summer already.
This world may not be even remotely close to Emet-Selch's, but Mettaton decides late Spring is his.]
Late Spring. That's perfect. I'm surprised! Not because of the time of year. But because late Spring just passed!! Of course you wouldn't make any note of it. Next time, beautiful.
[He wonders when the last time was that he even celebrated a birthday. (Is that something he was ever accustomed to doing?) More years yet to add atop Emet-Selch's stacks of years. A cake with so many candles on it, it may as well just be a bonfire. A thing to get a fire permit for... Mettaton amuses himself with this thought, because he likes the thought of his Bonded having a birthday at all (and his own humor). The robot just has that kind of energy. Someone excitable about small details like this, and there may be more reasons yet for that, because-]
My birthday... is whenever I want it to be, of course. [So his is "picking a day and going with it".] I pick a month... and that's my birthday! [Oh, or... "picking a month and going with it."] Really though, I wasn't born, like most beings. I'm sure you could have guessed. I don't know where I came from. I just started being! Though I don't have a clue when...
[Seasons do not exist Underground. Neither does any indication of the passing of time, lunar nor solar. He easily realized that was why Monsters in the underground civilization never had to worry about going feral on the full moon, because it simply didn't apply.]
The day I started being a robot. That was late October — mid-Autumn. I'm sure you can imagine what month I favor... but I can have any of them, as I like.
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I'd honestly forgotten. I can't recall the last time I made any notice of it.
[Though it had been mostly from a lack of inclination, the differences between Source and shard didn't help. On some occasions time flowed at the same speed between them, at others a hundred years could pass on one in the space of a few months on another. Even though he spent the majority of his time on the Source, it would've been futile to keep track of something so arbitrary. And those years spent asleep in the void between spaces- how would those even count?
That Mettaton would've been likely to do something for it doesn't surprise him. And Emet-Selch can't deny either the sense of relief that he'd narrowly avoided the attention, or the dread of him doing something for it next year. Yet at the same time... he found he didn't disapprove of the idea as much as he thought he would. It would mean they would both still be here in a year. And how terrible it was, to have to mark time in such small increments, that a single passing year together would be a cause for celebration.
(And how could he ever consider it like that at all? How could he desire to stay, even if going home wouldn't save anyone--)]
I'd wondered how entities like yourself came about....
[What other way could naturally-occurring ghosts exist, he supposed, other than just... appearing one day. A soul spontaneously manifesting, wrapped up in a non-corporeal shell. Did all ghosts consider themselves 'cousins'? It wasn't as though they could be related in the normal sense, but their shared nature could lead to a closer natural tie than most families....
But he hums to himself, unsurprised that Mettaton didn't know the specific day he'd begun existing, or even the time of year. A life spent wholly underground would make denoting any passage of time far more difficult. No time of day, much less time of year- time itself would be a hypothetical.]
Though if you select too many months, then it stops being special, doesn't it? [The Ascian is even more Unsurprised to hear Mettaton apparently deciding to select a month (or several), rather than content himself with a mere day. It gets a sigh from him.] The point when you became a robot seems as reasonable a time as any.
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[Given how people everywhere regard ghosts, he's wondered if he is the product of something dead after all... Who knows. Regardless, he's living now, and that's all that really matters to him. If he was something else before, he doesn't remember it. He doesn't think about it too hard.
Mettaton hums in turn, likewise unsurprised that Emet-Selch cannot remember the last he'd regarded his own birthday. It's somehow predictable of him, even if it's still remarkable. To have a concrete birthday - or at least, the rough figure of one - and not to pay it mind is far from what the idol would do, space-time complications aside. To have gone so far as to neglect it, at that... It checks out with so much else the Ascian has neglected about himself, he thinks. Indeed, as Emet-Selch fears, he'll change that. His is a birthday that will go fully acknowledged at the next opportunity, be it within Aefenglom's city limits, or out in the Wilde. Mettaton's not picky.
He doesn't even consider Emet-Selch or himself not being here, because he's busy thinking about this conversation happening right now, and what it pertains to. About birthdays. About knowing Emet-Selch's, and more concretely deciding his own — particularly relevant now that the sun is a thing, and time flows with meaning beyond squares on a calendar and the hands of a clock. He instead dreams about ways to celebrate, closing his eye.]
Any birthday of mine is special. There's never too much of a good thing! It was something to be excited about! An occasion for everyone to celebrate. But I'm glad you agree with my primary choice.
Since you're inclined to forget, I'll be sure to remember for you, Hades, darling. It wouldn't be hard to remember. After all, we're practically opposites again! How lovely.
[Thinking about birthdays is a distraction from the knowledge that another Mirrorbound possesses unwanted knowledge about him. And wouldn't promise to keep it secret, the way Mettaton wants. His attention's on his Bonded.]
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[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.]
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So he writes,]
Such liberty to do as I please... I may just take your birthday, then. Yes, I WILL celebrate it.
[Weirdly threatening for just saying "I'm going to celebrate your birthday whether you like it or not." It's also one of the things he feels like biting him for suddenly...
Mettaton does not view his thirst for blood to be tiresome or unwanted. He stares at very human-appearing passersby. The robot remembers when he could smell Mira in a particularly tense moment, how she was just a Witch to him for a fleeting moment that he can barely grasp...
And just as quickly, he banishes the thought. Really, other Witches don't smell like Emet-Selch. There's no reason he'd want their blood as much, logically. That he would ever pursue anyone else's was surely because he only wanted Emet-Selch's. And that makes it all slot comfortably into place, even as he watches two obviously practicing Witches walking by hand-in-hand, watches their skin, thinks of the taste that pulses underneath. Yes, Mettaton's distracted. For him, it's a manageable distraction to the tune of arousal on a body that shows no signs of it. Similarly, he shows the public no signs of his hunger unless there were a perceptive eye in the crowd.
He's just thinking of Emet-Selch bruised and bitten and in his arms. And thinking of him makes him keep reading. Then, of course, he's made to think of himself, given the subject matter.]
I am used to it. Yes. I would get plenty of fan correspondence... Letters, flowers, gifts. Tributes to my splendor. When you have a birthday before a crowd, that's the sort of reception you'd expect. An abundance of adoration foisted upon you... Haha.
[Mettaton is the kind of person who would say he got "so many cards that he couldn't read them all," but he definitely reads every last word. Nonetheless, there wasn't as much in the ways of celebrating from anyone he considered close during those times. So when he thinks of that, he has to dig deeper, and he stops thinking of Witch blood altogether. He stops listening to people conversing around him, sinking into his spot.]
Before that. [Chewing on how to address whatever he did in more intimate company, he wonders if he should send anything like this at all. But of course he... could. Not should. That's part of what makes Emet-Selch unique company: he has the whole of him.] Sometimes... If I wanted to celebrate others, I would try to impress them with something nice. One time, Blooky made a mix CD for me, entirely without me knowing. It was pretty bad. I liked it.
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Take it and do with it what you like, then. I won't be coming anywhere near it.
[Take his birthday so thoroughly, that it has nothing to do with him and he can just ignore the whole thing.
Though oblivious to any desires for a bite (or several; there was rarely just one), Emet-Selch would not be surprised by it. Nor would he ever think of discouraging the impulse, neither of the biting, nor of the taking of his blood. Both experiences had become... pleasant. Both the rush of pain and the thought of the accompanying drain. Perhaps even the drain itself when Mettaton took enough for him to notice the distinct way it felt as it was being pulled from him. The idea of filling his Bonded up that way, coupled with the sight of the resulting wounds left on his own body- was something that not-infrequently occurred to him.
But any chance of thinking about that now is deflected by the rest of Mettaton's reply. The first part was as expected- the kind of gifts one would get from adoring fans, and though by their nature impersonal, the Ascian doubted that the idol would scorn them. For a love of the attention, a receiving of adoration that was only to be expected- but also an appreciation of their feelings expressed.
But it's the second part that gets his attention, and it softens him a little to think about. That the morose and depressive ghost would still manage to find the energy to put something together for their cousin. And of course Mettaton would appreciate it, regardless of the gift's actual quality- because it was for him, because someone important cared enough for him to try. That Mettaton would choose to disclose this moment to him at all, while knowing how reticent he was of his past- also mattered.
It takes him some moments to reply.]
Your cousin must care for you a great deal.
[And how awkward it inevitably would be, when he revealed who he was to them. It was the sort of thought that has him want to pull the idol into an embrace, to press his face to his throat.]
I don't think I could ever match something so earnest... but I suppose I'll have to try to find you something appropriate when the season turns.
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It reminds him a little of how the Ascian would tell him not to get accustomed to the look of surprise on him when in reality, Mettaton relishes it all the more for how frequently he can pull it from him. And so he dedicates himself to surprising him and keeping his attention, something he glares harder at his device for until he levels his gaze with the nightlife unfolding before him. Why is he here... and not where his Bonded is?
He rises to his feet in that moment, incensed and alert and excited, before he gets the next reply.
It softens him in turn. The acknowledgement that the ghost he left behind cares for him so is a bittersweet note, and it feels like too long ago since he's seen them. He saw Napstablook in a memory, but he also saw them right before he showed up here... Those are points to hang onto. He wonders if he'd see them here. If he could introduce Emet-Selch to them — after, of course, awkwardly coming clean once and for all.
And how awkward it would be. Mettaton feels less uncertain about it right now, compared to some months ago. He can't begin to figure out why, not in this moment, especially when his focus is shifted back to the Ascian's sentiments. Mettaton so quickly shifts from ravenous and passionate to tender and infatuated when it comes to Emet-Selch. For his Bonded to have such dramatic sway over his emotions... He feels he met someone very special in him.]
I'm not concerned about you matching anything, darling. So don't worry about that. I have faith in you for what you have a mind for.
[Mettaton has no expectations, but a bar of standard. He's neither easy nor difficult to impress, but affected nonetheless. Emet-Selch's wondering about comparing to his cousin in itself is endearing.]
How about you? Did you commonly celebrate your real birthday? As opposed to my mercurial one.
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--But it had faded just as quickly back and- Emet-Selch wasn't entirely certain if he'd imagined the whole thing. If he'd just been caught up in his idea of Mettaton's disapproval and passion, as well as to how it could fade back into tenderness just as easily. With just a few words of genuine sentiment, a memory invoked.]
Well, we'll see. 'Tis not an effort that I've regularly indulged in.
[And yet here he was, desiring to do unnecessary things. But he knew that Mettaton's relationship with his cousin was different than his relationship with the Ascian; there was no competition there. But he did want to please him. Or at the very least, not disappoint.
While he'd always known that Bonding with the puca was bound to be troublesome, he hadn't expected this to be one of the ways.]
And I'm sure it will come as no great surprise that I did not. My lack of interest in it was not unusual, however- with as long-lived as we were, any individual year might as well have been a day or an hour: so numerous as to be made mundane.
Moreover. It wasn't frowned on exactly... but to be so individually-invested was not a commonplace desire.
[It doesn't even occur to him to specify that this all applied to Amaurot alone. The idea of celebrating anything after the sundering would've been absurd.]
So with no tradition for it, I'm sure you can see why I'll continue in my lifetime of apathy to the bitter end.
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How did Emet-Selch deal with it... It makes more sense yet to read that being "individually-invested," or wanting to stand out, wasn't commonplace. He nods to himself. No wonder they didn't appear to care for fashion! No wonder even architecture was formed with such resonant harmony, not one building vying for attention over another! He's contrasting with human cities he's seen in movies with their advertising splendor and bright lights, all things Mettaton... likes... and did not see in Amaurot. It was closer to the towering pressure he wanted than Aefenglom, far closer to the city strips he'd dreamed of, but quite different. Orderly. Beautiful. Elegant. And Mettaton thought that if he were unleashed in such a city, he'd have a hard time figuring out which building was which. Lacking individuality.
He hums thoughtfully. They're not talking about cities, though. Though an undercurrent of possessiveness remains, he remains in a more thoughtful state than a fervent one.]
Then... I'll ensnare you in my own captivation for such investment. I think you can break your streak of apathy a little... and celebrate a birthday. Something exciting to occupy one of those mundane days or hours! An indulgence, yes.
[Even if he's sure Emet-Selch isn't inclined toward being so center stage, it's not like it has to be like that. That may be Mettaton's thing, but he acknowledges their differences. Even if it were just himself, he would be content celebrating Emet-Selch.
Already, Mettaton brainstorms "good ways to celebrate Emet-Selch." A lack of desire for material goods, it would be easy for Mettaton to deliver his sentiment through means of expression. He knows already there are other things he could give him any day, but things made special by dedicating them upon him specifically for a day. Mettaton's aim is always to impress, and he has no doubt he could. He's nothing if not confident in his ability to inspire.]
You wouldn't protest to my want to celebrate you, would you? As I am invested in you, after all...
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Mettaton's insistence on giving any sort of attention to a birthday still pulls a continued frown from him, directed at the watch, as though that would make any more of a difference compared to directing it at Mettaton directly. It was fine for the robot to be interested in things like that for himself- considering how captivated he was by mortal habits, it was to be expected, and who else would care about the recording of years?- but why inflict it on someone uninterested?
While on one hand, he could appreciate Mettaton's desire for appreciation of him. It was warranted, of course. But on several other hands (somehow) he resisted the concept entirely.]
Anything that you would call exciting I doubt I would want to get anywhere near of. So yes- I would protest.
[Though he can guess that Mettaton would try to take his preferences into account, and that it wouldn't be a wholly terrible experience, but that doesn't make him like the idea that much more. He'd tolerate it if it happened, but--]
Besides. It seems a morbid thing to celebrate. An accruing of years in this place... knowing that it shall never be reflected elsewhere. No, I still want no part in that.
[Time could only keep ticking over for him here. He already spent enough time dwelling on that, he didn't care to devote a specific day to doing nothing else.]
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