[After only the slightest break, Mettaton only flew right back into place. And he was exhausted, emotionally and physically: before he could even make this post, despite having resolved to make it with immediacy (and he no doubt proclaimed to Emet-Selch that he needed to make it right away), he required rest. Developing the ability for sleep meant that the robot could rely upon it to replenish his power, but it also meant that when he needed such power, it was easy to fall prey to its influence. Like any organic being, he was quick to pass out for the sake of a fitful nap.
But they'd spent these days in constant contact. Even having parted for this important errand reminded Mettaton just how weak their Bond still was. It's better than it had been, but not as brilliant as it usually was. Both of them wanted it back, and it felt that staying close was the best medicine. It was soothing; Mettaton felt both comfortable for it, and more alive because of it. His fingers press more firmly against bare skin, claws denting flesh—but his grip's too weak for anything else.
And from there comes Emet-Selch's reply, clarifying the scene he'd seen before him. And pain tears over his skull at times, though Mettaton doesn't flinch, as his ears attempt to perform their usual emotive acrobatics but fail miserably. She wasn't dead? How could she commit her soul there? Humans were a strange lot. It sounded as though she'd just... somehow parted from her body without intention, and found herself unable to return to it. A resurrection in a fashion, but it was only because her "death" was a poor attempt at it, the imitation of it the byproduct of magic. It's a little beyond Mettaton, but he follows along the best he can.
For starters, he smiles at the fact that Emet-Selch's display was so effortless in appearance, compared to the Coven's.]
You did make it look like a practiced act, dear. But then, your magic could put this world's to shame.
[He smiles close up to his neck, and plants a lingering, soft kiss there.
Apparently, they were different things... Were he and Emet-Selch both dead and following the laws of his star, there would be no Ascian capable of restoring them. They'd be dead. Humans were... a startlingly innovative sort, and he can only regard their move to harness necromancy for the sake of reviving their people of Geardagas with awe. But Mettaton nods again when Emet-Selch compares their structures of afterlife: it seemed like souls (normally) had enough of a connection to the living world even postmortem to be returned. Whether there were rules about what could and couldn't be revived, Mettaton isn't sure. Either way, their Bond had enough threads left to remain; their souls were bound even in death, somehow. Better yet, they maintained enough connection to their hosts to be reunited, and best of all, their souls themselves remained intact.
Rebirth, of course, is all quite beyond Mettaton. Maybe humanity had some ideas about rebirth, but it made sense that monsters did not. So where Emet-Selch's world had laws that made it so that true death could not be reversed, that souls would be reborn into new entities, Geardagas had its own set of rules, too. Upon being prompted for information, Mettaton tilts his head against Emet-Selch's neck before sliding down to his shoulder in thought, humming, struggling for some... comparison.
He can only shake his head no.]
If the humans have necromancy, or even an equivalent... I don't know about it. Defibrillators, to restart the heart?? But that's medicine. Haha. [And Mettaton's not very knowledgeable about medicine. May as well be necromancy, it makes the heart pump blood again. Blood, very important.] Humans aren't very magical at all. They have technology!
[He smiles softly, thinking about how different souls and afterlives and undeath are among worlds. It complicates matters; it's pretty amazing, to him.]
I don't think I've told you about what happens to us upon death, have I? [Here, he draws back just enough to press his cheek to the side of Emet-Selch's head, though he permits the Ascian to remain against his neck.]
no subject
But they'd spent these days in constant contact. Even having parted for this important errand reminded Mettaton just how weak their Bond still was. It's better than it had been, but not as brilliant as it usually was. Both of them wanted it back, and it felt that staying close was the best medicine. It was soothing; Mettaton felt both comfortable for it, and more alive because of it. His fingers press more firmly against bare skin, claws denting flesh—but his grip's too weak for anything else.
And from there comes Emet-Selch's reply, clarifying the scene he'd seen before him. And pain tears over his skull at times, though Mettaton doesn't flinch, as his ears attempt to perform their usual emotive acrobatics but fail miserably. She wasn't dead? How could she commit her soul there? Humans were a strange lot. It sounded as though she'd just... somehow parted from her body without intention, and found herself unable to return to it. A resurrection in a fashion, but it was only because her "death" was a poor attempt at it, the imitation of it the byproduct of magic. It's a little beyond Mettaton, but he follows along the best he can.
For starters, he smiles at the fact that Emet-Selch's display was so effortless in appearance, compared to the Coven's.]
You did make it look like a practiced act, dear. But then, your magic could put this world's to shame.
[He smiles close up to his neck, and plants a lingering, soft kiss there.
Apparently, they were different things... Were he and Emet-Selch both dead and following the laws of his star, there would be no Ascian capable of restoring them. They'd be dead. Humans were... a startlingly innovative sort, and he can only regard their move to harness necromancy for the sake of reviving their people of Geardagas with awe. But Mettaton nods again when Emet-Selch compares their structures of afterlife: it seemed like souls (normally) had enough of a connection to the living world even postmortem to be returned. Whether there were rules about what could and couldn't be revived, Mettaton isn't sure. Either way, their Bond had enough threads left to remain; their souls were bound even in death, somehow. Better yet, they maintained enough connection to their hosts to be reunited, and best of all, their souls themselves remained intact.
Rebirth, of course, is all quite beyond Mettaton. Maybe humanity had some ideas about rebirth, but it made sense that monsters did not. So where Emet-Selch's world had laws that made it so that true death could not be reversed, that souls would be reborn into new entities, Geardagas had its own set of rules, too. Upon being prompted for information, Mettaton tilts his head against Emet-Selch's neck before sliding down to his shoulder in thought, humming, struggling for some... comparison.
He can only shake his head no.]
If the humans have necromancy, or even an equivalent... I don't know about it. Defibrillators, to restart the heart?? But that's medicine. Haha. [And Mettaton's not very knowledgeable about medicine. May as well be necromancy, it makes the heart pump blood again. Blood, very important.] Humans aren't very magical at all. They have technology!
Monsters... We also don't have necromancy. Though, Alphys. [He sighs. This is something he doesn't even entirely understand, but he proceeds, drawing away from Emet-Selch's shoulder to press his cheek against the side of his fiancé's head. One of his hands skirts up the Ascian's back to rest upon his neck, warm and gentle.] I think she's gotten the closest to it... if the qualifiers for necromancy are to defeat untimely death with prolonged existence. But it wasn't without harrowing results.
[He smiles softly, thinking about how different souls and afterlives and undeath are among worlds. It complicates matters; it's pretty amazing, to him.]
I don't think I've told you about what happens to us upon death, have I? [Here, he draws back just enough to press his cheek to the side of Emet-Selch's head, though he permits the Ascian to remain against his neck.]