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September | Test Drive Meme
Jikan Test Drive MemeMinimize
You've seen this before. The thought strikes suddenly, during whatever it is you were doing. Having an important conversation? Running away from home? Dying in the midst of a fierce battle? Where ever you are, one things is true: you're certain this isn't the first time you've lived through this. But upon realizing this, that's when it happens. Like someone hitting rewind on the VCR, you're back where you were ten minutes ago. And it happens again. And again. And again--Until finally, something is different. A door stands in front of you. Will you go through it? Nothing else seems to be working, so this might be your only chance.
Upon opening the door and heading inside, a strange feeling overwhelms you. It's comforting and warm, like being enveloped in a soft, heavy blanket. You hear a voice murmuring in your ear, but it's unintelligible.
And in the next moment, you've appeared in a laboratory, surrounded by the unfamiliar yet worried faces of people in lab coats, speaking in a foreign language that doesn't sound so foreign to you anymore.
Nanjikan Research Laboratory
There isn't much time to process what's happening before characters are ushered out of the arrival room. They're passed between a medical and a psychiatric team, checking them for injuries and psychological trauma. Their every need is met: food is offered, injuries are tended to, and questions are answered. "You're in the Eastern Kingdom of Nippon on a planet called Gaia," they explain. "You were brought here because you became aware of the timeloop... we'll explain everything."
Orientation Nanjikan Research Lab, Tokyo
Everyone is brought to a large auditorium, where dozens of other people looking similarly out of place are seated around them. The scientists and doctors from before file on stage, thoroughly explaining the situation. What they experienced back home was a timeloop. While the loops in their home worlds are smaller and likely to resolve on their own, the fact that such a small amount of time is being repeated is what makes them so dangerous for those who become aware of it. And they've been working around the clock in collaboration with the neighboring Western Kingdom, checking adjacent universes for others who've become aware. While the technical explanations may go over the heads of most, that's not the reason they were all brought together like this.
And they continue to explain: their own world was trapped in a year long loop for decades, if not longer. Through the use of an ancient form of bonding magic, they bound their world to the present flow of time, allowing it to progress past the timeloop. Or at least, that's how they thought it worked. In truth, Kizuna is very powerful reality-warping magic. And thanks to the powerful bond all refugees now share with the country of Nippon, the magic surrounding them will only continue to evolve.
Until they find the means of resuming the flow of time back in your home world, the refugees will just have to make due with this one. But not to worry, because Nippon is fully committed to taking care of everyone!
A Place to Call Home Tokyo, Kanto
Once orientation is over, characters will be allowed to choose housing in both Kyoto and Tokyo, enabling them the means of easily living between both Kingdoms if they please. These housing options will be fully paid for by the government of Nippon, with the NRL and MRU providing a stipend for food expenses in Tokyo and Kyoto respectively.
In lieu of providing transportation, all refugees will be granted an unlimited rail pass that they can use to travel all across Nippon! Thankfully, express routes connecting Tokyo and Kyoto will be running at all times of day, allowing refugees to freely travel between the Eastern and Western Kingdoms as they please. While this TDM and its prompts are focused on the Eastern Kingdom, you are welcome to have your character arrive in the Western Kingdom instead.
In Nihonbashi, an exclusive new sweets shop called Suipara has recently opened its doors, and the people of Tokyo have been positively raving over it. An all you can eat buffet featuring dozens of pastries and cakes, with the variety of flavors changing by the hour. Unfortunately, there's a catch: only couples are allowed to dine in the shop, with a kiss required for admission. While some will have no problem grabbing their lover to gain admission, others may need to get a little more creative. Why not find someone else looking for a date and go together? It's just a little kiss, after all!
In Little Edo, a neighborhood gardening contest is underway, as each home aims to be crowned the most beautiful in Tokyo. Refugees are encouraged to join in, as each shared home in Little Edo is already outfitted with its very own garden! Of course, pretty much all of them will need some heavy TLC before they can be considered contest-worthy. The prize for the winning home is one million yen, with dozens of runner-ups winning ten-thousand yen, so this isn't an opportunity to let pass up!
Over in Yoshiwara, an amateur theater troupe is holding auditions for a stage production that just so happens to feature the refugees themselves! A dramatic re-telling of their quest to save Tokyo back in March, the showrunners seem especially keen on involving as many refugees as possible! Will you play the heroine that slays the final Jubokko Tree? The fanservice hero that gets tangled up in an overzealous Nuruname Bloom? Or maybe the god of destruction itself? Time to work on your best Gojira impression!
NRL Time Refugee Support Network
Once they've received their housing assignment, all refugees will be given small handheld devices called magi-tech communicators, or magi-comms for short. They're heavier than a conventional smartphone would be, but far sturdier, and powered by the ambient magic that flows through the city. Now available with limited sepia-tone color, and video cameras! They don't need to be charged, but they won't work outside of cities at all. Upon booting it up, they'll find a message linking them to a special channel for refugees.
#nrl_time_refugee_support - online
Use the following code for your top-level if you'd like! This is how network communication will look for characters in the game until more advanced magi-tech comms become available for characters.
Capitalism
With August finally behind them, it was time to say goodbye to summer and hello to the fall season! Of course, it's still pretty hot in Nippon this time of year. And with many of the refugee housing options lacking in proper air conditioning, many of them are likely just sitting around at home, counting down the days until the summer ends.
Or are they? Player characters aren't the only refugees here in Nippon from other worlds. And as their numbers steadily continue to grow, so too does their influence around Nippon begin to spread. And nowhere is that more apparent than in Yokohama, long considered to be the international city of Nippon, now set to become the interuniversal capital of Gaia.
Coffeeshop AU Kannai, Yokohama
As many refugees may know (or not know), coffee is something of a luxury in Nippon. Due to a lack of international travel and trade, coffee imports have ground to a halt, with the remaining stock being heavily regulated by the Port Market. The only place where one can find true, undiluted coffee is Yokohama, whereas versions found throughout Nippon often substitute a similar bean plant that's been flavored to resemble coffee.
But times are changing! A new chain of coffee shops has begun popping up all over Yokohama-- Moonkicks. The brainchild of a native coffee fiend and a refugee with the unique ability to grow seemingly any plant from his body, this chain boasts genuine coffee at a reasonable price, and even sells coffee beans by the pound! But how exactly does co-founder Shailesh grow coffee beans from his body-- look, don't ask questions you won't like the answer to.
But Moonkicks offers more than just good coffee. With a refugee as one of its founders, every location aims to serve as a community outreach center for fellow refugees, offering services provided by and for refugees only. And after the timeloop fiasco last month, this month has introduced a special afterhours refugee support group. Free coffee and snacks are provided, as new refugees are given a space to mingle and old refugees an opportunity to talk about things that have been bothering them with their peers.
Although some may not be keen on the open nature of these discussion forums, there is one side effect of attending. Regardless of whether they actively participate or not, all refugees who attend will leave with a temporary feeling of euphoria, as well as a lingering sense of familiarity and comfort whenever they visit a Moonkicks Coffee House. It seems gathering that many Kizuna bonds in one place can have a positive effect on people. Who knew?
Fashion Forward Kohaku, Yokohama
Starting with a single boutique in Yokohama's Kohaku Ward, Fils de Splendeur has quickly grown to boast three locations throughout Kanto. Born from a single refugee's desire for "modern" clothing, Fils de Splendeur only carries fashion trends from other worlds. While many of the fabric choices have been substituted for what can be easily found in Nippon, there's no denying that the styles are certainly unique. "Modern" seems to be relative, as those from a true modern day era may still find some of the choices to be a bit esoteric, with very few plain or normal styles.
Hoping to ignite a passion for fashion in her fellow refugees, owner Adeline is offering one outfit or one bespoke clothing item for every refugee who shops in her stores. Of course, as a shrewd business woman, she's not just giving them away for free. Those who wish to take home a full outfit or have a favorite garment from home recreated must be willing to model that outfit for her upcoming catalogue. Photoshoots of refugees in costume are scheduled all across the city, with Adeline hoping to both advertise her clothing lines, as well as boost Yokohama's image as a melting pot of culture.
But it goes without saying that Adeline can be a little... over-enthusiastic. With her fabric manipulation ability, models who wear her clothing particularly well may find themselves suddenly transformed into a different array of outfits, or added to the mix with other refugees for themed photoshoots. Themes range from very peculiar wedding attire, modern day street fashion, definitely-not-modest-enough-for-1920s-Nippon swimsuits, and... cowboys? Well, someone has a taste for that, at least.
And for those who are interested in being paid for their modeling work, they'll also have the option of doing a private photoshoot for a burlesque calendar as part of a collaboration with Yoshiwara's Sakuranbo Voyuer's Club, which boasts a staff made up almost entirely refugees. While these photos will be more risqué in nature, they won't be outright pornographic. Those who accept this offer will be paid for a full day's work, and even offered a set of old timey lingerie to keep!
Danger Drinks Port Market, Yokohama
Perhaps the most famous neighborhood in Yokohama is the Port Market. Originally named for a famous night market that occupies much of the port area, it's also the name of one Nippon's largest criminal organizations. While their power and influence extends throughout much of Yokohama, the port area itself is their territory. And yet despite the dangerous reputation, the Port Market remains one of the most popular tourist destinations in Yokohama. There are hundreds of stalls and shops that are always looking for employees, with the nature of these shops growing seedier and a little less legal the further down into the lower levels of the market you go. Despite the risks of working so close to potential criminals, the Port Market has become a popular choice of employment for any refugee looking to move up in the underworld.
One such refugee has quickly made a name for herself. Known only as Hex, she's the owner of one of the most popular night clubs in the Port Market, owing in part due to her own special power. What exactly this power is seems to be unclear, but what is clear is that very mysterious things tend to happen at this club. And this month, Hex plans to expand her business, inviting refugees to attend a weekend party in the hopes of finding a business partner to open a second club in Tokyo's Yoshiwara neighborhood.
The club itself has a very distinct theme, with dark and spooky decor, a steam-powered fog machine for the dance floor, and no shortage of interesting and unique drinks, most of while seem to include some kind of spell. The Smoky Strawb is a sweet berry-flavored drink that invokes feelings of confidence and self-assuredness. Blood On My Lips is a stronger drink with a sugared rim that stains the lips of the one who drinks it, causing the drinker to appear irresistibly kissable to those around them. And the very aptly Kinklist is a coffee-flavored drink that turns completely white after a sip, before causing a person's deepest sexual desire or kink to appear in black ink on their cheek until they finish the drink.
And finally, the Skull Drink is... well, it's just a non-alcohol cocktail put into a fancy skull cup. Designated drivers wanna drink fancy too, you know.
Refugees who attend the party on the first weekend in September will drink for free, so new arrivals won't need to worry about breaking the bank if they want to drink the night away!
OOC Notes
Welcome to Jikan's September TDM! The TDM is considered game canon, and also serves as the intro log! That said, whether you choose to carry threads over to the game or not is up to you!
• Current players are more than welcome to top-level, or take prompts from the TDM and use for their own logs! This may change in the future depending on how busy TDMs become.
• CRAU characters may start regaining their CRAU memories one month after the TDM. However, vague feelings of familiarity are allowed between previous game CR! For more on this, please read the FAQ!
• You do not need to sign-up for housing! Choose whichever style you prefer. Roommates can be chosen by the characters or can be random. If you want to switch housing later, your character has the option of moving at the beginning of each month.
• Refugees must continue to maintain the act of appearing as a couple to stay in the sweets shop! If they make it too obvious that they're faking it, they may be kicked out.
• Feel free to get creative with that sort of clothing your character can find in Fils de Splendeur, keeping in mind that it's not the sort of place that would carry basics such as plain modern t-shirts and pants. Think: avant-garde meets RPG character. However, your character may request a plain/modern clothing items as part of their reward for modeling it for Adeline.
• Your character is welcome to pick up a job at any of these shops if they so please! There is no need to sign up for this!
Please leave any questions about the TDM prompts in the thread below! General game questions can be directed to the FAQ!
Apps are always open!
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no subject
But he watches Emet-Selch's Disapproval from the side, their fingers laced together. As Emet-Selch notices their hands, Mettaton, too, notes that they're still navigating the crowd like this. ...It was strange, this. Mettaton realizes that Emet-Selch has five digits; this is somehow unsurprising, even though humans were often with four. (Right?) But this felt normal, at least on the Ascian.
Their fingers slotted to place, eerily aware of precisely where to sit by instinct alone. What was the strangest of all is the the reluctance to let go, even though the robot knew they were surely being seen. ...Couldn't he justify this? If the public saw him holding hands with this man, couldn't he simply say they were having a tour together of their new home, taken by the evening air together? Perhaps there was a boon in being so fresh faced here, too, in that the idol anticipates just a bit of anonymity. Even though he knew he stood out in a crowd... just for now, he could get away with this.
Both men discreetly excuse their grip on each other's hand, and find reason to maintain it. Mettaton doesn't dwell on it too heavily on it beyond that, finding the contact pleasant. He could drag his company beyond the southern gate into Yoshiwara proper, and the rest of the district was their oyster from there, with Mettaton taking the lead.
He laughs, the air of the busy district infectious. Fixing Emet-Selch with a steady, direct gaze, his dark-painted eyelid drooping somewhat, Mettaton smirks his way.]
Concerned about me, are you...? So sweet. But there's no need. I'm perfectly safe, darling. Besides. I can hold my own just fine. If I had to, maybe I'd be one of the first monsters to nab a soul. Haha...
[He says, casually.
And why would humanity bring harm upon such a lovable star such as himself?? ...Mettaton isn't so naive. After just a few months of living on the Surface, he's quickly seen some of what he has to be wary of living there. It surely wasn't all a happily-ever-after, and not every human was welcoming of their new monster citizenry. But united, humanity has proven to be more welcoming than not. As for monsters... none of them have harmed a single human out of any malice. Mettaton's content to believe it'll stay that way. (He's likely too optimistic. But he's also Mettaton. Of course he'd believe in the good of humanity.)
But he doesn't protest the notion that a monster's fearsome power is much to worry about. He knew what it could mean, that it could guarantee powers beyond one's wildest imagination, and that the intent was to guarantee Asgore's godhood... And even Mettaton had once coveted the power, knowing he could use it to guard all of humanity from monsters. But other than that, this was the sort of reaction he'd hope for out of a human: casual acceptance.
Entering Yoshiwara, signs for performances galore complete with performers out to net patrons flank the streets. Young women dolled up in fine kimono and blood-red lips invite passersby to a traditional dance, while more ostentatious, liberally dressed duos chant catchphrases for hybrid performances that would fuse cultures from faraway with local culture. Signs for restaurants boasting local singers and musicians, comedians, and troupes pepper the strip, underlining bright lights that contribute to the warm cacophony of Tokyo's nightlife. Mettaton hums, squeezing Emet-Selch's hand in excitement, waving at performers and bobbing his head excitedly to drink in the sights.]
Emet-Selch... I think we've stumbled upon Tokyo's entertainment district! And look at how much traffic it gets...!
[Mettaton stares at performers and singers and musicians and dancers—but closer to alleyways lay advertisements for more specialized sorts of entertainments, from personal massage to brothels, from intimate companions to bars. Blissfully unaware of these advertisements, busy stricken starry-eyed at the prospect of making his own mark, Mettaton coaxes Emet-Selch close, especially as he marches them in the direction of an establishment advertised by an ornate, but minimalistic sign. It advertises only the business's name, but discloses nothing about it.]
Ohhh yes! Before you know it, it'll be ME advertised on these streets. You'll see!
no subject
What does warrant his disapproval was the suggestion of being at all concerned for his robotic company. Giving a flat, unamused look to meet the robot's smirk, the idea that Mettaton could look after himself... well, he couldn't rule it out, he supposed. It seemed like the idol was capable of some sort of magic, and it was hard to guess what abilities being a machine gave him. Fragile soul aside, perhaps he could hold his own against a random belligerent human.
And even if he couldn't- it wasn't exactly something he needed to trouble himself over anyway. The casual suggestion that Mettaton might even claim some stray soul doesn't get more than a sound of mild disbelief. Even if the idol did, how much power would that really give him? He shakes his head at it, waving it off with his free hand.]
There's no shortage of souls here, should you ever care to test it. Garner enough fame, and who knows, you might find some willing donors.
[Dryly. Though humans could certainly be passionate about their entertainment providers.
But his feelings turn to a small measure of amusement as Mettaton takes to exclaiming over the energy of their surroundings, to the point of even squeezing at his hand in his excitement. They'd found themselves on a major thoroughfare, by the look and busyness of it, where everything was vying for the attention of everyone who passed by- and the robot seemed intent on paying attention to it all.
Restaurants and bars, one place after another offered a show of one kind or another, for those inclined to take in the local culture, or for anyone interested in the novelty of other worlds. It all seemed to attract a varied clientele, who loitered and chatted amongst one another, discussing where to spend their evening. Wherever one looked, there was something happening.
The Ascian remained unmoved, eyes sliding from one posturing pair to another, casually spurning each while Mettaton soaked all of it in, voice reflecting his degree of impress (it wasn't much).]
Of course you would find the noisiest, gaudiest part of the city... like calls to like.
[But he'll permit himself dragged close by the robot's enthusiasm, not paying attention to where they were heading as he catches Mettaton's assertion that he would soon be amongst those selling themselves on this street (be it through song or dance or body).
As Emet-Selch had not missed the more risque advertisements- in the form of signs as well as more living displays, suggesting what might be found behind the doors that lay closer to alleys. However one wanted to be entertained, there was a place catering to it- that was the impression it gave off, at least.]
And which side of the street do you intend to be advertising?
[Idly spoken, as he spares his companion another glance over, dubious. The robot's appearance spoke of someone wanting to be perceived as, well, sexy. A desire not remarkable or strange, really, as most people cared to present themselves attractively. But yet his manner... flirtatious aspects aside (which he was taking to be some terrible personality trait rather than anything serious), struck him as ultimately... naive. The eagerness of someone without that much experience with the world, or at least someone who hadn't had their optimism crushed yet.]
no subject
[And now he nearly expects it from a group who should be so dedicated to him... though it's not as though he'd have any reason to follow through with taking those souls.
If anything, he ends up squaring his focus upon Emet-Selch and the edges of his soul that he could perceive. A being like that... What would that produce, its power amplified betwixt his own? An idle consideration, as Mettaton has no desire for follow through in this regard, either. But it was a curiosity, one that he feels he's... had before? Mettaton decides he's conflating the consideration with his earlier desire to take Frisk's soul, and he settles with that.
(Except for that there have been entirely too many coincidences and feelings of nostalgia or déjà vu. ...This doesn't make it any easier to know what to do with these feelings, with this man, or... even with the familiarity of the five-fingered hand laced with his own.)
Like calls to like, just as MTT has such a thought, and it causes him to snort. Both at the notion that he was gaudy and noisy... and that there's something about himself and Emet-Selch that must connect them. Did they have much in common? It felt so, at least in some more private regards. Everything else, though, spoke of being very different people. It was no wonder Emet-Selch found such an exciting district to be a bit much. He decides that is unimportant as he struts along.
Not without a bit of accusation, though, as Mettaton turns over his shoulder.]
Surely you know how to have fun. Or do I have to show you?
[He could be so helpful in guiding Emet-Selch to some MTT-Brand fun. In fact, he could guide him somewhere right now, he thought. He wants to ogle at the curiosities of this district... Could he pass a troupe of dancers performing a side show? He entertains the possibilities as he leads Emet-Selch off of the thoroughfare and down a side street, curious to see how lights and people advertised in the confines of a narrow path.
There are more bars down this street, some advertising concurrent shows. Singers, mostly, some with their tunes carried on far enough that a mashup of music somehow coordinates in the street for passersby. There were all sorts of possibilities for potential patrons, and Mettaton's interested in it all, perking up at each individual tune or crowd of people. (What did people here favor...? It seemed to be the exotic, the new, whatever refugees had to offer that Nippon did not.)
Mettaton points a look Emet-Selch's way as he closes in on an ornate building, one that does advertise street-side shows. One where one could simply peek within, and be entertained, is that right...? MTT tilts his head at the concept, and at Emet-Selch's question.
He does not know what Emet-Selch is implying. Not out of innocence to the concept, but because he's too taken by all of the types of performance here to notice that some of them are a bit risqué.]
Which side...? Why, darling. You can't expect me to pick a side. I'll take the whole thing, thank you!
no subject
(But there was a familiarity in the conversation that he couldn't shake. So he leaves it be; if there was something to it all, eventually the truth of it could be pieced together.)
He shrugs loosely at Mettaton's snort and backwards glance to him, meeting his accusation with an easy:]
No. Never heard of it.
[Delivered completely deadpan, apart from the eyeroll that follows it. Of course he knew about fun, he just wasn't interested in it. Or wasn't in the mood for it, and hadn't been for... more years than he wanted to count. But he'll accept Mettaton's choice of direction without protest (even if he was a little surprised to find him taking them down one of the sidestreets, considering his impression that many of the shows available here were ones that couldn't be advertised quite as openly).]
I'm particular. Moreso than anyone here, it seems. Or do you think you can find something here that would entertain me?
[Past the tangle of voices they walked, songs that struck the Ascian as less than harmonious (it all just registered as noise to him), nothing that invited him to take a closer listen, to make the effort to pick any one performance out of the crowd. And to a building fancier than the rest, with signage that advertised 'shows' that struck him as somewhat... questionable. Voyeuristic, even. This was where Mettaton wanted to stop in?
It gets the robot something of a sideeye in response to his look, but when paired with his statement to take everything, after telling him he'd show him what fun is- well, perhaps he was willing to dip his toes into every avenue after all.]
Might as well take a look at your competitors then, hm? If you would prefer to take the whole thing... your time is certain to be occupied.
1/2
How could he retort that he could when he felt he was the most qualified to do it?
Thinking that way, though, has Mettaton smirking as they approach that house. It isn't Sakuranbo, no, but it's a building with a similar approach in business. Less geared toward refugees, nobody needed to be registered as an employee here to put on a show. Mettaton found the words exclusive and new, but doesn't read too far into the nitty gritty fine text to further clarify just what he was leading himself and Emet-Selch into.
Nevermind that they weren't actually entering anywhere. No, the two men remained safely outdoors, where they could choose to meander on to their heart's content. Mettaton plants one of his fists proudly upon the swell of his silicone hip, tilting up his chin.]
Give me time, gorgeous. Whether it's tonight, or in a month... I will find you something in this district that'll drive you wild. After all. I'm an entertainer, too.
[Which is to say that if nothing here currently did the trick, Mettaton would stop at nothing to impress. It becomes something of a challenge for himself to excite even a personality type like his—and he feels anything but discouraged.
But Emet-Selch had a point. What better way to gauge his tastes than to figure out what they had to offer, and how his new companion felt about it? Mettaton laughs openly, waving Emet-Selch's threat over his time of all things away.]
Oh, darling. You're talking to a robot who worked twenty five hours a day, every day in the week! I know what it's like to work that clock. [...Intentionally or not, given what he just said, his gaze heats so something nearly sultry in its confidence. Mettaton sure did pick a sexy design...] Though I've never seen this as a vehicle for performance... I can't deny my interest!
[This, meaning this sort of way to keep the performer isolated from his audience... Mettaton wasn't sure he'd like it for himself, but why not learn what the fuss was about? There were a few quiet viewers—but refugees that they apparently are, the payment stall for viewing takes Mettaton's magi-comm and registers five free minutes.
(Genius! he thinks. To charge by the minute for some exclusive performance that anyone could pay into...)]
Though if it were me, I'd do away with these walls. What's the point of the privacy, when you want to perform for a crowd?? [he says, voicing his preemptive thoughts to Emet-Selch as he stoops in for a peek.] It's a way to rake in the cash, but I'd give all of that up just to give the people an eyeful of——
[The window is unlocked, and Mettaton slips it open. His expression freezes comically, that lively body coming to an absolute standstill.]
2/2
Mettaton doesn't draw away immediately, busy lost in anatomy he's seen before, in theory. But never so... graphically. Never so... glistening. So... sweaty, or pornographic. This was absolutely obscene, and nothing save for the shape of any insertions is left up to the imagination.
It was hypnotically disturbing. When Mettaton finds himself pulling away, dumbstruck, he doesn't realize what sort of face he's making, all for Emet-Selch's entertainment.
Which is a knit brow, a wide eye. A dropped jaw, offended alarm pulling silicone features into a mix of shock, horror, and amazement. His lips form syllables, though his psyche lags behind, unsure of what to spit out.]
Oh my. I... Well. They... nailed that shock value.
[They really didn't. Only for Mettaton they did, because he wasn't expecting it. He should've stopped to read the signs a bit more carefully, or brushed up on his genre-savviness when it came to entertainment districts. It wasn't his haunts, really, these red-light districts.
Is this..... entertainment?]
no subject
I'll wait. It's not like I'll have much else to occupy my hours.
[Apart from, you know, investigating an entirely new world, and its accidental emissaries from gods-knows how many other worlds. Right now, he just didn't feel like it, tolerating this excursion primarily due to his pushy companion.
'25 hours a day' just gets a flat stare, though he doesn't bother to point out that he has no idea how long that was, and how absurd it would be to assume that one world's measure of time was the same as another. The implication of it being a lot was clear enough, anyway, and the outright seductive way Mettaton presented his work schedule... well, it leaned more towards the idea that maybe the robot was involved in adult entertainment after all.
But he allows the taller man to chat away, as he unlocks the tease of a performance, a suggestion of the sights they could purchase if they put actual money towards it. Performing before a crowd? Doing away with walls? How much of an exhibitionism fetish did this robot even have? (And how much would he be able to do, given his... construction. Emet-Selch couldn't help but wonder.)
Though once the window is opened, and Mettaton falls into immediate, stunned silence, his body going more still than any organic entity ever could- Emet-Selch realizes that his initial impression of him had probably been the right one. The idol had had no idea what he would be looking into. ...And had possibly never witnessed sex before (though the Ascian supposed some of the shock could just be having not expected to see it right there, in explicit detail).
Emet-Selch does note the 'performance' they were now explicitly privy to, eyes regarding it with a detached neutrality. As expected, that sure was two people fucking, which was exactly the sight Mettaton had signed up for. But apart from ascertaining that nothing more or less than that was taking place in front of them, the Ascian's attention falls onto his companion's reaction to it all.
Which was a source of far more entertainment to him than the oiled up and rhythmically writhing bodies. Faint, amused smile twisting the corner of his lips, he takes in the series of emotions that cross the robot's exceedingly open, expressive face.]
Do you think so?
[Casual as anything, commenting on Mettaton's declaration about shock value, restraining the impulse to snicker at him.]
I'd call it tragically ordinary, myself. Then again, this is just the free sample. I assume paying customers would unlock more compelling vistas.
[As if struck by a sudden thought, he turns towards Mettaton entirely. It's accompanied by a light squeeze of the robot's hand.]
Ah, but I guess you'd prefer to 'perform before a crowd', was it? Do let me know when your first show will be... I'll be sure to stop in.
no subject
A peep show that Mettaton's solidly looking away from now, staring at Emet-Selch instead as he starts to look incredibly smug, in his eyes. This is all just perception, as the statement that follows sure is taunting. Emet-Selch felt this to be an ordinary state of affairs? What kind of planet does he live on?? (More compelling vistas? Mettaton starts to generate scenes more pornographic than outright fucking. He mostly fails, but only because as soon as he tries to match the human anatomy together in a theoretical position or activity, he struggles to do so.)
But his hand is squeezed. He doesn't miss this. It has his kneejerk retort stop dead on his tongue, for some reason. He wasn't flustered, he'd assert. But Mettaton also wasn't sure what he was feeling. Amusement's there, though, and he smirks back at Emet-Selch despite the hike in temperature in his body.
And with his free hand, he slams that window shut with so much force that the couple beyond that peep hole would be surely rattled out of their own scene. His hand is promptly returned to his hip.]
Ha, ha. You're so funny. Were you waiting this whole time to make that joke?
[Looking back over the past minutes, there was no way Emet-Selch was unaware of what lay beyond this window. It looks so obvious in retrospect... Hindsight is 20/20 and all that.
And yet, Mettaton finds himself squeezing Emet-Selch's hand back. It felt like the thing to do, as he looms over him with a sneer.
So Mettaton plays along, eyelid curtaining heavily his dark amethyst gaze, eyelashes long and thick. A bright pink tongue drags over his lower lip, and the idol hums in amusement.]
Not that I could blame you for wanting to see me in such a sensual scenario. I've been told I'm a people pleaser, when it comes to my capacity for performance. And I am sexy...
[Shifting all of his weight into one leg, Mettaton pets his glove over his smooth, silicone hip, nearly tugging Emet-Selch closer on reflex as his hands draw close to his body. Intentionally he draws their faces close, looming over Emet-Selch to convey his confidence and surety: yes, if ever he performed a strip tease, he'd summon for Emet-Selch.
Right now, though, he lets his finger dance over his metal leg as he hums nice and low.]
VIP seating, just for you. Guaranteed. Though you'll have to give up your dreams of seeing me so discomposed in front of an audience, darling. I'm not so unrefined.
[A smile; a wink. The show would not be sexy... save for the robot featured in it, of course. But his reaction to the sex show should clear it up well enough: Mettaton dabbles in many genres, but not this one. Mettaton's recovered quickly enough at any rate. But he wouldn't be forgetting the memory of that anytime soon.]
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And you made it so easy, too.
[Had Emet-Selch been waiting, specifically to see his new companion in shock over what he was getting himself into? Not entirely, but his curiosity had been both invoked and satisfied with this display. So he can't help the teasing.
But when Mettaton takes advantage of his height to loom over him, all that intensity translating into a show of seduction, a deliberate tease in its own right- he's briefly surprised. Wielding his attractiveness almost as a threat, the robot draws the Ascian close, their faces closer, offering the tease of a tongue, his dark gaze lowered, and voice suggestive.
Of course, Emet-Selch knew it was just a tease; the robot's reaction to outright sex-as-entertainment made it clear that those weren't the kind of shows he put on. Not even remotely. Flirtation and some level of suggestion, perhaps... but nothing so explicit.
But Emet-Selch wasn't about to be the least bit daunted by the way the robot towered over him, this show of assurance. Permitting him near, his eyes dip briefly to watch Mettaton stroke over his hip, his leg, and from there scan slowly over his body as if in assessment, before landing right back on his face. That he has to tilt his head up somewhat to meet his eye now doesn't faze him either, and his own gaze is similarly confident. Even challenging.]
Oh...? Then you would suggest a more private showing?
[Though it's been muted down through a show of idleness, voice low, some measure of that smugness remains.]
Call on me when you like, then. When you think you can hold my attention.
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Which he'll make a point to emphasize, is not watching people fuck.
Giving Emet-Selch a show of his assertiveness has the Ascian meeting him back with his own, a low-key stubbornness that felt like part of a familiar dance that made his body heat, that made him crave movement. To think that this man who was a perfect strange not long ago could have this sort of impact on him was a bit astonishing, yet somehow... unsurprising, even when it should be one. He squares up against him, gaze following the lead of Mettaton's finger, over his hip and down his thigh until it lands upon the robot's face once more.
His voice dips invitingly. Smugness meets smugness, as Mettaton barks a laugh; he still doesn't let go of his fingers, even though they're facing each other. It brought their hands together in front of them, in a gesture that still felt warm even in the face of their suggestive conversation, the invitation for private showings and rapt attentions.
An... exciting prospect. But still. The audacity of this man. Mettaton knows he needs to put him in his place.
Lifting his leg, Mettaton effortlessly strokes Emet-Selch's hip with his inner thigh, a gesture that entices and shows himself off. Yet his smile thins.]
Oh...? You fancy a "private showing" featuring me? Ha ha... Keep dreaming, mon chéri. I like to see a man who knows what he wants... Even if it's futile.
[Despite the flirtatious denial, Mettaton's voice is syrupy and low, and now just for show. But how could any part of him be for show when he's engaged, even when indignant? He's interested in Emet-Selch, and if there was anything this man had that nobody else did, it was... more of Mettaton than he often dispensed of himself. That was something. Whether it was worthy of a private show, that was up for debate. Whatever that entailed.
Stroking over the back of his hand with a gentleness that doesn't match the provocative edge of his smile, Mettaton continues.]
You can be sure that I'll captivate you. Think of me hard enough, and I'll be there calling for you, Emet-Selch-darling.
[Oh, lord. Mettaton's lips twitch, from suave to stumbling. That's a terrible name to lengthen with his classic term of endearment! Terrible, awful, cumbersome! He recovers quickly, but besides the awful mouthload of a strangely long name (that... didn't feel right, which just suggested to him that all of his feelings of déjà vu were only feelings), Mettaton's back to showy charm.]
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But at the laugh, and especially at the intimate drag of the robot's inner thigh over his hip, the Ascian's manner cools. It wasn't unappealing (it was anything but, which surprised him), but altogether with Mettaton's words it crossed a level of presumption that he balked at accepting. From an incitement amused, it veers contemptuous, as his look narrows.
...It surprised him, somewhat, to actually be irritated. They were strangers, and Mettaton was doing nothing that mattered to him. All of this should have invoked only boredom, or the mildest of passing diversions, treading the line between tolerating company and desiring seclusion. But the familiarity of it bothered him now, as he questions why he was falling into patterns that didn't exist.
The gentle stroke to his hand has him hyper-aware of it; it twitches, and a moment later he tugs it free, with slow deliberation (ignoring the irrational pang of regret), while Mettaton stumbles over the hyphenated disaster of his title. Why had he even accepted his hand in the first place?
Though he otherwise stands his ground, even if it meant continuing to crane his neck up a bit. When he replies, his tone is low and even, as consciously mild as he can make it.]
And what a grotesque scene that would be to dream about. How fortunate, then, that I'll be spared all imaginings of it. You assume far too much when it comes to my interest, my dear.
[Concluded with a slight shrug, as if that was all he could be bothered to do.]
As if that's the best you can do, I know I won't be hearing from you again. I'd rescind my offer entirely, but that would just be churlish. You may keep your dreams of my captivation.
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But he just as quickly covers his smile with that hand, dainty fingers pressed over his lips as if to stifle laughter. There is no laughter, only a low hum. as he gazes down upon Emet-Selch from his height of seven feet.]
Getting defensive now, hmm...? Well well. No shame in finding me in your dreams! Or your daydreams, or your thoughts, or...
[He trails off, as if to say, 'you get the picture.' Mettaton is not put off by the narrow of his eyes or the drop of his amused smile; Emet-Selch's, and all other's, space was for him to invade, and he could do so as sensually as he liked. To be bothered at all like this was obviously defensiveness, in his eyes.
Though as he speaks, the happenings of the last few moments catch up with him. Mettaton may view other people as easy to invade the space of (and he deserved to do whatever he liked), but that was a bit much. A bit more enticement than he often offered... but it did use his leg, which is what counts, he decides, and easily dismisses it. What truly weighed on his mind was the loss of a hand in his, which felt a space that bit more hollow for it. His fingers flex, unsure of what he's missing at all when there was nothing there to begin with.
He uses that empty hand to gesture toward Emet-Selch, smiling pleasantly.]
Do what you like with your offer. I won't resent it. But my robotic hearing ducts are always tuned in! Which is to say, my offer remains. And I will tell you all about it, when I decide hit the scenes and work them into submission. Ohhh yes...
[Even if he's irritated, Mettaton remains cheerful, as is his natural mode. But deep in his heart, he felt something far more perplexed at this person who could sort him out so readily. At this person who he could hold hands with and feel weirdly tickled about it, or who could nab his attention from the dazzling skyline of the city. Not that he'd tell Emet-Selch any of these things.]
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This time Emet-Selch does take a step or two back. Though he refused to view it as a retreat (even if it was), only a taking back of space that shouldn't have been infringed on to start with. Indifferent as he was to crowding people or being crowded, entirely willing to use it to his advantage when necessary, that didn't mean he welcomed it or liked it, and there had been no reason to tolerate (or invite) it as far as he had. Whatever instinct he'd been running on was clearly mistaken- and something to be more wary of, until he worked out an explanation. Which he could do without indulging it, as the strange emptiness of his hand was a reaction to be suspicious of now.
If this was something this world did to the people who arrived, tying together strangers because they happened to have a conversation... he would have to be more on his guard than he'd suspected. An insidious magic like this, trying to convince him to find someone so aggravating palatable- he'd fallen into it too easily, just because they had a small bit in common.
(That he was just going in the other direction, settling on irritation as a response, rather than finding actual neutrality, proper apathy- he ignores that detail.)]
Yes, yes. [And with physical distance regained, he's able to gesture dismissively in the robot's direction.] Are you done? Or is nonsense all you can spout?
[A thin sort of smile that's lacking even the pretense of being anything other than an expression of annoyance.]
You're starting to bore me. The one thing I won't tolerate.
[No, his patience for everything was just worn. But going elsewhere to be alone was quickly becoming the predominate wish.]
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Where Emet-Selch found himself frustrated with his own irritation, Mettaton found himself at a loss for his longing. But he quickly makes excuses for it. The pressure in his hand, the presence at his side... Yes, maybe Mettaton was the sort to enjoy the touch of someone else. That's not news to him, though. He may be a star, but even someone who fancied himself famous could want for company. He knew that about himself, too: he learned well that companionship was important to him, and in a world where he was guaranteed to go without...
Kizuna. That must be the offending force, for all that Mettaton hardly took offense to it. It must be what made it feel nice to hold hands, at least. Anything else, MTT doesn't hesitate to embrace. He was amicable in general, so why wouldn't he embrace Emet-Selch's company?
So he hums, tilting his head forward in interest. The fingers of his recently-abandoned hand perch against his lower lip. The narrow of his companion's eyes and the thinning of his smile suggested impatience, too... but why on earth would Mettaton care what this man thought? In the end, he didn't want to bore him. Probably because he's an entertainer, through and through.
Mettaton proceeds seamlessly from self-aggrandizing to the elephant in the room, even if it risked the conversation entirely. His smile drops to something far more modest, his gaze intent. His fingertips slip from his lip to rest upon his chest.]
Oh? So you were entertained! Splendid. [Until he started becoming bored. Mettaton smiles.] Well, it's not a very entertaining approach of me to pursue. But tell me. We were both curious about Kizuna... What do you think of it now? Do you... notice anything?
[Mettaton had some budding thoughts himself, past the annoyance and interest of it all. Obviously he had some thoughts. There was entirely too much chemistry going on between them, for all that they were so... different. Why else would he inquire? His voice is lower, not as playful or grand.]
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The statement that he had been entertained gets something like a glower in response, though he can't argue with it. Even if this hadn't been a particularly great time, it had been diverting enough in one direction or another. It still was, but with a frustration that had come to outweigh any other aspect of being occupied.
But the switch in topic, paired with the reduction in deliberate aggravation at least has Emet-Selch pause, frown becoming one that was merely habitual, with a more generalized displeasure. Though he'd suspected as much, that Mettaton would bring up kizuna seemed to suggest that he was being likewise afflicted with- something. Something that was trying to convince them in a more amiable direction.
And perhaps the robot was alright with that. Social sort that he clearly was, the Ascian assumed that he'd probably welcome any and all kizuna, because what was it but an extension of what he'd seek out anyway? But the more Emet-Selch thought about it, the less appetizing it became if this was the result. If it was trying to take advantage of his loneliness... it would have to work harder than this. Encouraging him to tolerate excessive familiarity- what a cruel joke of connection it offered.]
The magic that supposedly ties us to this star. And which attempts to tie strangers together.
[Loosely crossing his arms in front of his chest, it is a gesture of something like defensiveness.]
Would that I could sever all trace of it and return to my rest. [A sigh.] If it's so quick to embed itself in the most passing and insubstantial of meetings, 'tis one more thing to guard against.
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And it became just a bit clearer that Emet-Selch could sympathize with... whatever it was that this is. They're strangers, he remembers... But then, are they strangers? They've seen each other's souls, they've perceived bits and pieces about each other, and they even knew each other's names! (He thought. Emet-Selch's made no indication that it's but a title.) To him, they were... well, friends, if he was being generous. Acquaintances, though, is something he felt solidly sure about.
So they both felt that connection, the one that made his heart spark when he held Emet-Selch's had. The strange feeling of familiarity, too, must be shared. But there was something intrinsic about it all that he has a hard time pinpointing. It felt so buried, as though tangled into his very soul. Kizuna was a powerful force, he decides readily. This is his first encounter with it, after all...
But what has Mettaton's smile flattening is when Emet-Selch calls their meeting insubstantial. It's not anger or frustration that possesses him, but something more like a frown of consternation. That, after all, is his true emotion.]
What? It's hardly insubstantial, darling. I... You...
[And that fist is returned to an insistent press of his fingers against his torso. Emet-Selch knew of his private secret... How was that insubstantial? And though Mettaton didn't know how secretive Emet-Selch kept his own circumstance, he still knew of it now. Mettaton keeps his heart open, though his attention skirts about them for any potentially unwanted listeners.
But when he rules that the coast is clear, his voice remains low.]
I should have you know. What you know of me... is very personal, Emet-Selch. [His brow furrows, dismayed and preemptively offended.] And I'd rather you keep it that way.
[It wasn't insubstantial at all, not to him. The fact that Emet-Selch knew this secret about him made him something of an anomaly in this city. Who he was to Mettaton... would shape over time, but he wasn't someone he wanted to make an enemy of. Not when he'd found this shred of common ground with him. In fact, he felt strangely drawn to him to start, and why for? It matters to Mettaton, and he's not afraid to show that. Whether it mattered to Emet-Selch was another story entirely.
If this was what formed a bond via Kizuna, the it made sense to Mettaton, if substance is all it took. (But didn't he start feeling these strange things prior to their delving into each other as they did?)]
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Was all of this to be blamed on kizuna, though? There had been something there, even before they'd had a chance to speak very far to one another- hadn't there? He wonders if he was overestimating it, that it was a reaction to the surprise of Mettaton's soul and nothing more- or it was one more effect of these sense-altering bonds to re-imagine meetings to feel more fated than they were.
Something like offense crosses the robot's expression, but even temporarily removing the smile from his face doesn't please him now. Was Mettaton so inclined to just... give in to what this world was choosing for him? Making a companion of someone out of happenstance rather than anything real?]
Insubstantial.
[He reiterates, fixing Mettaton with an even stare.]
Or can you prove your actions are entirely your own, your hand not guided by a power not yours?
[There was something there, a faint ache when he looked at him, a sense of reassurance and normalcy when their hands had met. It bothered, to not know where it came from, and his fingers dig into his arms as he forces his expression towards neutrality. His heart towards distance.
He takes a breath.]
Unfortunately, my nature isn't something I find very personal at all. [A faint shift of his shoulders.] You've nothing to use against me, no detail I'd particularly care to keep obscured. While... well. [A tilt of his head, though his eyes linger at the robot's waist, on the soul trapped there.] Your nature is apparently very important to you.
[Which was to say he had leverage. Something he'd suspected, but to have Mettaton outright confirm it- he gives the robot a halfway-pitying look. That had been careless.]
If you'd prefer it to remain private... don't give me any reason to make it otherwise.
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And he somehow trusted Emet-Selch. That wasn't unusual though. He was more inclined to trust someone than not, but this felt moreso. He wants to interject and proclaim that he trusts him, that there's something about him that made talking to him so easy.....
Emet-Selch looks down upon him after a passive shrug, his attention cold. (But he notices the way his fingers dug into his arms, the forced hand he played upon even the control of his expression.) His terms are clear: play it safe with Emet-Selch, and his secret remains a secret.
Mettaton's lips part, betrayal pulling away any hope for a smile. At first, he's aghast, scandalized.]
"Use?!"
[There was never any intent to use a single detail of Emet-Selch's against him, and he feels blindsided by the suggestion. But just as quickly, he closes his eye altogether as though to shutter out the raw fear that Emet-Selch's warning struck in him. He trusted Emet-Selch... Was that a doing of this world? He shouldn't have. And yet somehow, Mettaton couldn't fault himself for following the intuitive step, whether it was Kizuna at play, or their innate chemistry.
Mettaton's head bows somewhat as he squeezes his eye closed, lips pressed together. He just couldn't fault himself for having trusted Emet-Selch, or the way he felt, or... anything. And yet this was the result. Still, Emet-Selch denies him substance or significance, blocking him out with the threat of exposure.]
..... I see. That's... [Callous. He doesn't understand this at all... But he supposes all men would be dying to hold something over someone like himself. He tries to make peace with that, even though it makes him anything but at ease.] Understood.
[When he opens his eyes, his expression's changed. Performative grace disguises the turmoil in his heart, but he's closed off from Emet-Selch entirely. If there was any bond developing between them, it would no doubt halt in its tracks.
His smile is pleasant and small, but tight. ...Mettaton's never had to play this role of negotiation before. Nobody's ever had any sway over him, after all.]
Then... Do tell me in advance, before airing out my private matters. I'll always see to it that I make it right. [Another way of saying that he would not permit his secret to go public.] I'm very approachable, and negotiable, you'll find.
[Gone is the cheerful robot, as Mettaton dons a mask of business-like caution that he hadn't been wearing before. Emet-Selch is practically a stranger to him, making it difficult for him to tell what could set him off. And Mettaton took guarding this secret seriously. Why had intuition told him that this man would be safe to open up to? (Why did it still tell him he was safe? He wasn't the sort to deny his own heart.)
Mettaton's hands drop from over his chest, palms hovering over his hips neutrally.]
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The ease that he'd found in Mettaton's company, the worry that he easily could have, given a bit more time, given him something that he could use against him, was all the reason he needed to be wary (Emet-Selch still thinks in those terms. It came completely naturally- and if anything, he was a bit confused at Mettaton's shock and offense at the implication that he would have used any secrets against him. It seemed a genuine reaction too, and some small part of him... felt a bit guilty at thinking this way, even if it was the only thing that was reasonable.).
He wanted to prefer this. Mettaton was far less aggravating like this, when he was so impersonal, closed off, polite. There was no more of that invasive, cheerful persona, nothing that could threaten him, nothing that could work its way past his defenses. A stranger who he could deal with as the stranger he was, without being lured into falling for whatever tricks of intimacy this world tried to blindside him with.
...It didn't feel like a victory, or anything right. It wasn't anything to gloat over, and if anything Emet-Selch felt more off-balance than he had before, to see the robot's clear discomfort, in discovering that his trust had been misplaced.
But this was what he wanted, wasn't it?
The Ascian's hands remain tense, though agitation wasn't nearly enough to cause him to consider recanting. He didn't regret it; surely the discomfort was a sign that this was the right decision, fighting whatever false bond had tried to form before it got any worse. Without being indulged, with their relationship pushed back into the realm of cautious strangers- the feelings would fade and he could forget all of this. And he knew to be more cautious in approaching anyone else on this star. He wouldn't be caught out again.]
You're not exactly in a position to make demands. [Requests. Not even unreasonable ones, but Emet-Selch continues to stare impassively at him for a few long seconds, as though he needed to consider it. But in the end he nods, once.] Should you veer too close to inspiring my indiscretion, I'll let you know.
[That he wouldn't be inclined to share it without particularly good reason (what reason would be particularly good enough, he wasn't even sure), he doesn't offer. There was no consolation to give after a threat like that, and he had no desire to undermine himself either. ...This was for the best. Mettaton would just have to live with an unfriendly soul knowing his secret.
Taking another step back, further emphasizing their new distance, of lines that shouldn't be crossed, the Ascian's voice falls into something similarly polite, detached, their negotiation managed.]
Well. With that business sorted... I assume you would prefer to take in the rest the city has to offer on your own?
[They would be unlikely to find any sort of comfortable company together now. There was the impulse to make some sort of comment about spoiling the mood, or something similarly flippant, but... he wasn't in the mood for that either. He was less at ease with this than he wanted to be, but this had been a gesture to protect himself. It was necessary. And why should he care if he troubled a stranger?]
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The smile he adorned falls into something a bit more neutral, his wide eye narrowing somewhat with a touch of resignation. With an idle tone and a sharp tongue, Emet-Selch first denies him the ability to negotiate—which has Mettaton's brow furrowing again in concern. But when the Ascian approves of his pitch next, Mettaton sighs in relief that he didn't need to feel.
And though he closes his eye, Mettaton can't help but feel something ache in him at the sound of Emet-Selch's retreat. Peeling his eye open again, he watches Emet-Selch with a still expression, mourning the loss of... a friend he wished he could have, he realizes. (That must be more Kizuna at work. The beginnings of this world's magic tying them together by bond...) It did hurt to have someone he confided in turn him away so harshly, and it was a reminder to avoid doing it again.
Mettaton wants to share the stage and to share his life, but he needs to draw a line. He is a performer, an actor, and there was only so much he could indulge about himself beyond that dream. Tread carefully in this new world, he realizes. (He had a lot to learn about Kizuna, first. It becomes a primary goal of his.)
Emet-Selch suggests on a cordial tone that he might prefer to take to the city on his own. In truth, Mettaton didn't want to take to the city at all anymore. Fixing his sights on Emet-Selch again, he wonders why he didn't mind the thought of exploring with him by his side, even after the harsh method he'd exacted upon his robotic company. So for heavy moments, his gaze darts over Emet-Selch's expression for something real, like the smile he saw on his lips earlier, or the flinch of fingers.
Neither of them were in the mood to explore, but Mettaton maintains the pretense of being eager to take it down in his stride. He smiles. It's brittle.]
Yes... You might be right. [His smooth voice is steady and low, not injecting too much enthusiasm into his tone. He also can't quite keep the wound from it, even if he tries. (He felt more wounded that this was apparently where their budding friendship led. ...He needed to think.)] Since I need to hunt down some method of keeping my body charged up, well... It might take a while. I'd hate to bore you. Ha.
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Which was dangerous. This was a rift that needed to be cultivated until it was broad enough that there could be no concept of crossing it. Not through more cruelty than this (That the idea of telling anyone of Mettaton's ghosthood deeply unsettled him was something that he kept to himself. It would still do as a threat, as a means of keeping an appropriate distance between them. It looked to be important enough to Mettaton that he didn't seem inclined to test it.), but a maintenance of boundaries.
They weren't friends, or anything even resembling it. Nor was he interested in becoming friends, not with Mettaton, and not with anyone else on this star.
It shouldn't be difficult, he told himself. It shouldn't be hard to avoid one person in this world, in cities so populated. And Mettaton was a showy presence; there would be plenty of advance warning to know if he was around, so at the very least he wouldn't have to stumble upon him accidentally.
...Not that he felt very showy at all now, only contained and looking almost... Emet-Selch wasn't sure. With the way Mettaton's eye had squeezed shut, the clear relief in hearing that the Ascian wouldn't give up his secret without permitting him a chance to fix things first- he didn't want to spare too close attention towards it. That he disliked the thought of Mettaton being uneasy was all the more reason to leave now, before kizuna made things any worse.
So it's stoically that Emet-Selch presents himself, too complete and unmoving for it to be natural, but with all else hidden behind that facade. Mettaton's smile looked like something strained, his voice low yet reflecting some degree of hurt (the Ascian doesn't react, beyond a slight twitch of his hands). They each had their defenses in place.
But he keeps himself otherwise still, apathetic, with even less energy than he'd had to start. From conversations so personal, reactions that felt as though they'd done this before- and now here they were, their fateful encounter ending in rejection and hurt.
Mettaton's statement about needing to find an energy source for his body is answered with a neutral nod and another loose suggestion of a shrug, as though indifferent to what the robot did with his time from here. Their paths were separate now.]
I'm bored already to hear about it. ...So I'll leave you to it.
[It felt as though he should say something more, but the words wouldn't come, and the inclination itself he couldn't explain. Just one final attempt of this kizuna to convince him to remain, no doubt.
No well-wishing, not of the mocking, polite, or genuine sort. There was nothing. And especially no goodbyes; he balked at that with a sharpness that startled him, though apart from a hesitation in breath, there's no sign of it. Sparing Mettaton only a last, warier look, as though he were to blame for it, the Ascian disappears in a void of darkness, teleporting elsewhere.
There was too much to think about, and very little that he wanted to start with. Most of all Emet-Selch wanted to sleep, and continue to sleep until this bond had drained away and he felt nothing at all for strange ghosts.]