[He answers blandly. Of course, they lived together because they liked to see each other, and because they were in love. That much he knew, and where he doesn't respond to Mettaton's shifts and squirms, his own body a prop for an embrace, and nest for a dragon, he doesn't try to escape the couch either. Annoyed still, but calmer now, he sighs more quietly. Wistful... a mood he was familiar with, and on this star, who else was there to turn to?
Emet-Selch did not consider this place, this world, any sort of 'home'. Not in the short term, and not in the long term. Its welfare was irrelevant to him, and all that mattered was surviving it (and regaining what shouldn't have been taken from them in the first place). Where to go from there was its own problem.
For now, there was navigating what each month strove to throw at them, which at this point included an egg that Mettaton had decided to get attached to. (Emet-Selch didn't think anything of his lover being 'drawn' to this charge, that he'd picked it up for reasons other than whim, on finding one that suited his aesthetics.) An egg that was an awkward lump between them, of similar durability to Mettaton, it seemed; the mage would be the only one to give way, between them.
Not that he was currently being crushed. Not even figuratively, with Mettaton relenting on any attempt to convince him of anything right now. Instead he felt a degree of tension only, agitation always slow to settle, even when it wasn't being provoked.]
Add it to the list of things to plead for. [His voice is a lazy rumble; the way he waves it off, similarly languid.] Along with something to watch....
[Cozying up to a blank screen didn't sound very entertaining... but he wasn't rejecting the idea. It did sound nice.]
no subject
[He answers blandly. Of course, they lived together because they liked to see each other, and because they were in love. That much he knew, and where he doesn't respond to Mettaton's shifts and squirms, his own body a prop for an embrace, and nest for a dragon, he doesn't try to escape the couch either. Annoyed still, but calmer now, he sighs more quietly. Wistful... a mood he was familiar with, and on this star, who else was there to turn to?
Emet-Selch did not consider this place, this world, any sort of 'home'. Not in the short term, and not in the long term. Its welfare was irrelevant to him, and all that mattered was surviving it (and regaining what shouldn't have been taken from them in the first place). Where to go from there was its own problem.
For now, there was navigating what each month strove to throw at them, which at this point included an egg that Mettaton had decided to get attached to. (Emet-Selch didn't think anything of his lover being 'drawn' to this charge, that he'd picked it up for reasons other than whim, on finding one that suited his aesthetics.) An egg that was an awkward lump between them, of similar durability to Mettaton, it seemed; the mage would be the only one to give way, between them.
Not that he was currently being crushed. Not even figuratively, with Mettaton relenting on any attempt to convince him of anything right now. Instead he felt a degree of tension only, agitation always slow to settle, even when it wasn't being provoked.]
Add it to the list of things to plead for. [His voice is a lazy rumble; the way he waves it off, similarly languid.] Along with something to watch....
[Cozying up to a blank screen didn't sound very entertaining... but he wasn't rejecting the idea. It did sound nice.]