[For a moment- a brief moment- when Emet-Selch hears the sound of an incoming message, he knew a flash of hope.
It wasn't a daily walk that he took to the Crystal. But it wasn't so rarely that Emet-Selch found himself there either, as a part of his meanderings, absent or otherwise. The village wasn't so large, and the Crystal somewhat central; it would've been more difficult than otherwise to not see it on the regular. And even when he did, he didn't always wish for anything. It still grated, the need to ask for things he had every right to- but if this was the only way, then he'd suffer through it.
And this was one of those occasions where he... tried, on some hesitant whim. Complicated as his feelings were about this request, desire warring with ambivalence (As wasn't this the same as saying Mettaton's body as it is wasn't good enough for him? Even though this was something they both wanted and missed--), it wasn't enough to keep him from asking. Once more, he committed his request to silent facets, and waited for nothing.
A nothing that was broken by a simple chime. With more haste than he'd admit to, he whips his phone out, and sees that the message is indeed from Mettaton. But as soon as he scans it... he finds himself more disappointed than he might have expected.
It was nothing related to his wish at all, but some sort of strange crisis. Struggling to focus on the actual text, he frowns at it, confused over what had actually happened. Had their dragon gotten into some sort of paint...? But from where? It wasn't as though they had any lying about in the cottage. Did they have anything that would stain or stick to a robot? If it was that bad, it was surely more dangerous to the dragon.]
Isn't it your fault for not minding it? This is the price of being inattentive.
[More annoyed than he otherwise would be, given his sharp disappointment, he tries to shake it off. Concern was there too (for Mettaton, and more reluctantly the dragon), because it wasn't just anything that could damage his lover's body. Would he have to wish for another repair instead? At least he had experience with that working--
Exhaling heavily, he types a more practical reply.]
What did it even get into? I need to know what sort of substance I'm countering.
[He's not thinking about bites, given Mettaton's description. Besides, he'd been nipped multiple times himself by their dragonlet (usually in an effort to wake him up), and it hadn't even broken skin.]
no subject
It wasn't a daily walk that he took to the Crystal. But it wasn't so rarely that Emet-Selch found himself there either, as a part of his meanderings, absent or otherwise. The village wasn't so large, and the Crystal somewhat central; it would've been more difficult than otherwise to not see it on the regular. And even when he did, he didn't always wish for anything. It still grated, the need to ask for things he had every right to- but if this was the only way, then he'd suffer through it.
And this was one of those occasions where he... tried, on some hesitant whim. Complicated as his feelings were about this request, desire warring with ambivalence (As wasn't this the same as saying Mettaton's body as it is wasn't good enough for him? Even though this was something they both wanted and missed--), it wasn't enough to keep him from asking. Once more, he committed his request to silent facets, and waited for nothing.
A nothing that was broken by a simple chime. With more haste than he'd admit to, he whips his phone out, and sees that the message is indeed from Mettaton. But as soon as he scans it... he finds himself more disappointed than he might have expected.
It was nothing related to his wish at all, but some sort of strange crisis. Struggling to focus on the actual text, he frowns at it, confused over what had actually happened. Had their dragon gotten into some sort of paint...? But from where? It wasn't as though they had any lying about in the cottage. Did they have anything that would stain or stick to a robot? If it was that bad, it was surely more dangerous to the dragon.]
Isn't it your fault for not minding it? This is the price of being inattentive.
[More annoyed than he otherwise would be, given his sharp disappointment, he tries to shake it off. Concern was there too (for Mettaton, and more reluctantly the dragon), because it wasn't just anything that could damage his lover's body. Would he have to wish for another repair instead? At least he had experience with that working--
Exhaling heavily, he types a more practical reply.]
What did it even get into? I need to know what sort of substance I'm countering.
[He's not thinking about bites, given Mettaton's description. Besides, he'd been nipped multiple times himself by their dragonlet (usually in an effort to wake him up), and it hadn't even broken skin.]