[Emet-Selch didn't need to see the heart light up on his husband's front to know of his feelings for him... but he was fond of it all the same, just as he was of the angular robot waiting on the couch for him. When they had been Bonded, he remembered that slight rush he often felt when entering his presence- something that he still felt, even when that emotion couldn't be directly echoed and shared. It had taken longer for him to recognize it as love, but there was no escaping his awareness of it now.
Just as unmistakable was the way that the orbiting rings and their center light had grown more vivid on his approach. Though already clearly defined, they seemed that much more so as Emet-Selch sat down next to the robot, as if reacting to his presence, or Mettaton's feelings for him.
Whatever ability was at work here, it was an intriguing one. And where he's all set to sigh at the idol's verbal answer to him, both that and all thought is shaken from him at the reaction to the gentle contact between them.
Mettaton cries out, flinches, and Emet-Selch flinches with him, jerking his hand back as though he had been the one shocked. Gold eyes briefly widen, startled, before narrowing as he soon assesses that he felt nothing unpleasant himself- and nor had Mettaton, somehow, as the other man offers some small description of what had happened. A glance down to his fingers revealed them as unharmed too, but strangest of all was how certain he was of having pressed quite lightly; the sort of lightly he was sure that his lover wouldn't have been able to feel at all. He frowns at the tattoo and its rectangular canvas; the skepticism in his face matches his tone as he flexes his hand.]
--What kind of infection does this? Are you sure you're not damaged? Has something knocked loose in there?
[But it's without reluctance that he presses the tips of his fingers once more over the strange pattern, attention flitting between his slow trace of the design, and up to Mettaton's 'face', to watch his reaction. It wasn't so much an unheard of amount of sensitivity, but an impossible one; even as a puca, Mettaton's classic body had known lesser degrees of it. It was probably a coincidence, something to do with the dragon bite....
But this had been a part of what he'd wished for, when facing the Crystal. For Mettaton to feel things as he'd used to, to be able to touch his husband and be touched, and to know that they were sharing in it completely. It was a crucial part of what he'd asked for- if not the whole of it, and the rest had yet to make itself known. And given the timing, it seemed no less likely that this was the work of their dragonlet. Even if what that work was had yet to be understood.
His touch drifts up Mettaton's side, not yet daring to hope that it was more than the sigil that was sensitive.]
no subject
Just as unmistakable was the way that the orbiting rings and their center light had grown more vivid on his approach. Though already clearly defined, they seemed that much more so as Emet-Selch sat down next to the robot, as if reacting to his presence, or Mettaton's feelings for him.
Whatever ability was at work here, it was an intriguing one. And where he's all set to sigh at the idol's verbal answer to him, both that and all thought is shaken from him at the reaction to the gentle contact between them.
Mettaton cries out, flinches, and Emet-Selch flinches with him, jerking his hand back as though he had been the one shocked. Gold eyes briefly widen, startled, before narrowing as he soon assesses that he felt nothing unpleasant himself- and nor had Mettaton, somehow, as the other man offers some small description of what had happened. A glance down to his fingers revealed them as unharmed too, but strangest of all was how certain he was of having pressed quite lightly; the sort of lightly he was sure that his lover wouldn't have been able to feel at all. He frowns at the tattoo and its rectangular canvas; the skepticism in his face matches his tone as he flexes his hand.]
--What kind of infection does this? Are you sure you're not damaged? Has something knocked loose in there?
[But it's without reluctance that he presses the tips of his fingers once more over the strange pattern, attention flitting between his slow trace of the design, and up to Mettaton's 'face', to watch his reaction. It wasn't so much an unheard of amount of sensitivity, but an impossible one; even as a puca, Mettaton's classic body had known lesser degrees of it. It was probably a coincidence, something to do with the dragon bite....
But this had been a part of what he'd wished for, when facing the Crystal. For Mettaton to feel things as he'd used to, to be able to touch his husband and be touched, and to know that they were sharing in it completely. It was a crucial part of what he'd asked for- if not the whole of it, and the rest had yet to make itself known. And given the timing, it seemed no less likely that this was the work of their dragonlet. Even if what that work was had yet to be understood.
His touch drifts up Mettaton's side, not yet daring to hope that it was more than the sigil that was sensitive.]
Can you- ...what is it like?