[That Mettaton could predict and understand his thoughts with such accuracy- Emet-Selch would both expect it of him by now, and love him for it in the same breath. Of course his fiancé should know he operates- but it was also something that he knew he couldn't take for granted, that was worth appreciation.
And the Ascian did wonder if Mettaton- being a monster with a physical body, if an inorganic one- would stand up better to being revived. But it sounded as though there was something wrong with the condition of those subjects, and would having a concrete form to inhabit be enough to counter it? Or would he only die again, his soul unable to bolster itself by fusing to others? If they ever found themselves together on Mettaton's world, it would be something to test, and on subjects that weren't his lover.
But then, so much might be bypassed if they could fuse. What powers would they unlock together, and what intimacies? From making monster souls robust (or at least, Mettaton's), to passing between worlds as they wished, where did the limits lie? Could they save Amaurot, as Mettaton had suggested nearly a year ago? Emet-Selch would have been willing to take that chance then, if it had somehow been available- and that was before he'd known him anywhere as near as this, even if he had begun to be attached to him. To love him.
(Yet how wonderful it would be now, just for the sake of it. Would anything less than being able to merge souls whenever they liked satisfy their need to be together?)
For the moment there was trying. There was doing better. There was surviving. There was taking proper advantage of what few boons they had, like Mettaton's sense for danger. Emet-Selch nods against his face, taking a steadying breath, feeling the softness of lips against him. Feeling as well his fiancé's own stubbornness, his unwillingness to let go, reflected in the grip he took on him- it touched him. They were both shaky still- how could they not be?- but already Mettaton was trying so hard for him. And gradually it helped.
Even though Emet-Selch had also occasionally considered that even if, against all odds, he remained on this star permanently... his host would age, wouldn't it? It would grow older, and eventually it would die. There was nothing a necromancer could do for that, and without his ability to take another body, that would be it. He knew from prior experience how many years this form would last, and that he was at roughly its halfway point (unless all these misadventures had shaved away some portion of that... he couldn't be sure). While he might remain strong and healthy for years to come, even that vitality would fade.
Without his powers, remaining on this star wasn't a solution either, if they wanted to stay together for longer than a portion of a mortal life. And of course they would- what amount of time would be enough for them? It was the same as with closeness, that they would always seek out more of it.
It was a problem the Ascian didn't know what to make of, that felt even more hopeless to avoid. Even if a way to attach to this world was discovered, it would ultimately only delay their separation for a handful of decades. Mettaton could endure indefinitely, so long as he was repaired, and that no one killed him (but that was always a risk, and one that worried him more now, terribly so), but Emet-Selch could not. Without his power to change hosts... what good would that research do?
It would grant more time to find a better solution, that was all. Would his abilities return if they travelled to Mettaton's star? The puca's presumably would, so it was possible.... But would memory persist? Would their Bond, somehow, make the journey with them? The idea of losing it was anathema, and his hand twitches around the robot's heated core. Emet-Selch wondered too, how much he would sacrifice, if it meant he could keep feeling his lover's soul against his. This ease to his loneliness... it was worth giving up a great deal.
There were so many unknowns. So many uncertainties, with nearly every conceivable path, from the likely to the improbable- resulting in their separation. It was a heaviness of fate that pulled him down, that choked him with it, even as his grip on his Bonded tightens, as he shifts ever closer, tilting his head to press a kiss to Mettaton's jaw, his cheek, firm presses that lead to the corner of his lips.
It was hopeless, but he hadn't given up before, even when faced with the impossible task of restoring a world shattered. His mind had eventually been changed, and he'd been rendered unable to proceed regardless, but- he hadn't given up.
(Where was the boundary between stubborn determination and a refusal to face their fate? Perhaps there was no boundary at all, nothing so tidy and well-defined. Emotions didn't work like that, and neither did they. They had to be resolute to the point of obsession- to protect their beloved, to ensure their mutual survival. But there had to be realism too, to know how to surpass the trials their union was faced with, even if they involved the likelihood of parting.
--But they would fight it. But was fighting just another shade of denial?)
Their hands held Mettaton's soul container, and with as close as they were Emet-Selch could feel it warming his chest as well as his hand. The soul inside it was brittle, delicate, and dearly treasured. He would protect it; they both would. Just as they would protect every other part of the other's lives and forms.]
A recovery longer than we have time for... but we'll do what we can.
[There was damage more than to skin or soul, but the memory of things neither of them would be able to forget. But they would live with that too.]
no subject
And the Ascian did wonder if Mettaton- being a monster with a physical body, if an inorganic one- would stand up better to being revived. But it sounded as though there was something wrong with the condition of those subjects, and would having a concrete form to inhabit be enough to counter it? Or would he only die again, his soul unable to bolster itself by fusing to others? If they ever found themselves together on Mettaton's world, it would be something to test, and on subjects that weren't his lover.
But then, so much might be bypassed if they could fuse. What powers would they unlock together, and what intimacies? From making monster souls robust (or at least, Mettaton's), to passing between worlds as they wished, where did the limits lie? Could they save Amaurot, as Mettaton had suggested nearly a year ago? Emet-Selch would have been willing to take that chance then, if it had somehow been available- and that was before he'd known him anywhere as near as this, even if he had begun to be attached to him. To love him.
(Yet how wonderful it would be now, just for the sake of it. Would anything less than being able to merge souls whenever they liked satisfy their need to be together?)
For the moment there was trying. There was doing better. There was surviving. There was taking proper advantage of what few boons they had, like Mettaton's sense for danger. Emet-Selch nods against his face, taking a steadying breath, feeling the softness of lips against him. Feeling as well his fiancé's own stubbornness, his unwillingness to let go, reflected in the grip he took on him- it touched him. They were both shaky still- how could they not be?- but already Mettaton was trying so hard for him. And gradually it helped.
Even though Emet-Selch had also occasionally considered that even if, against all odds, he remained on this star permanently... his host would age, wouldn't it? It would grow older, and eventually it would die. There was nothing a necromancer could do for that, and without his ability to take another body, that would be it. He knew from prior experience how many years this form would last, and that he was at roughly its halfway point (unless all these misadventures had shaved away some portion of that... he couldn't be sure). While he might remain strong and healthy for years to come, even that vitality would fade.
Without his powers, remaining on this star wasn't a solution either, if they wanted to stay together for longer than a portion of a mortal life. And of course they would- what amount of time would be enough for them? It was the same as with closeness, that they would always seek out more of it.
It was a problem the Ascian didn't know what to make of, that felt even more hopeless to avoid. Even if a way to attach to this world was discovered, it would ultimately only delay their separation for a handful of decades. Mettaton could endure indefinitely, so long as he was repaired, and that no one killed him (but that was always a risk, and one that worried him more now, terribly so), but Emet-Selch could not. Without his power to change hosts... what good would that research do?
It would grant more time to find a better solution, that was all. Would his abilities return if they travelled to Mettaton's star? The puca's presumably would, so it was possible.... But would memory persist? Would their Bond, somehow, make the journey with them? The idea of losing it was anathema, and his hand twitches around the robot's heated core. Emet-Selch wondered too, how much he would sacrifice, if it meant he could keep feeling his lover's soul against his. This ease to his loneliness... it was worth giving up a great deal.
There were so many unknowns. So many uncertainties, with nearly every conceivable path, from the likely to the improbable- resulting in their separation. It was a heaviness of fate that pulled him down, that choked him with it, even as his grip on his Bonded tightens, as he shifts ever closer, tilting his head to press a kiss to Mettaton's jaw, his cheek, firm presses that lead to the corner of his lips.
It was hopeless, but he hadn't given up before, even when faced with the impossible task of restoring a world shattered. His mind had eventually been changed, and he'd been rendered unable to proceed regardless, but- he hadn't given up.
(Where was the boundary between stubborn determination and a refusal to face their fate? Perhaps there was no boundary at all, nothing so tidy and well-defined. Emotions didn't work like that, and neither did they. They had to be resolute to the point of obsession- to protect their beloved, to ensure their mutual survival. But there had to be realism too, to know how to surpass the trials their union was faced with, even if they involved the likelihood of parting.
--But they would fight it. But was fighting just another shade of denial?)
Their hands held Mettaton's soul container, and with as close as they were Emet-Selch could feel it warming his chest as well as his hand. The soul inside it was brittle, delicate, and dearly treasured. He would protect it; they both would. Just as they would protect every other part of the other's lives and forms.]
A recovery longer than we have time for... but we'll do what we can.
[There was damage more than to skin or soul, but the memory of things neither of them would be able to forget. But they would live with that too.]