Or so they might lead us to believe, [Midousuji mutters dryly aloud, narrowing his eyes in suspicion at the thought of the Coven. it's a goddamn army of Witches, for crying out loud. how's everyone's faith in their numbers so absolute?
Mettaton, is, of course, right. Midousuji is just a slave to his magical thinking, and doesn't know how to survive without that kind of thing. it's not quite denial, but it won't be long before it is, and Midousuji's forced to confront the fact that he's a fucking idiot, and he's doomed.
Midousuji's eyes hang vacantly on his screen, wide with his mildly shell-shocked expression, brows high and mouth slightly agape. soul corruption?
forgotten memories?
there's a part of him that thinks that might be appealing—but he quickly doubles down against himself, dashing that idea with violent resistance and anger towards himself. Midousuji slaps a gloved hand against his eye, gritting his teeth. his painful memories are there, even if he doesn't let himself dwell on them as much as he can help it—but altering memories isn't the same as changing what's happened. how disgraceful that would be. how disgraceful of him to even curiously wonder. those memories, his entire construction, are as a shrine to her passing.
it's probably like..... ten minutes before he responds. ]
Okay.
That's troubling.
Of course, you could lose some stupid memory, right? Like what you ate for breakfast two years and five months ago. But if you lose something important, I could see how someone would start to change.
I guess I won't experiment with that, then. It seemed too easy, anyway.
[as if you would have the balls to die, Midousuji. but he thinks he does.]
no subject
Mettaton, is, of course, right. Midousuji is just a slave to his magical thinking, and doesn't know how to survive without that kind of thing. it's not quite denial, but it won't be long before it is, and Midousuji's forced to confront the fact that he's a fucking idiot, and he's doomed.
Midousuji's eyes hang vacantly on his screen, wide with his mildly shell-shocked expression, brows high and mouth slightly agape. soul corruption?
forgotten memories?
there's a part of him that thinks that might be appealing—but he quickly doubles down against himself, dashing that idea with violent resistance and anger towards himself. Midousuji slaps a gloved hand against his eye, gritting his teeth. his painful memories are there, even if he doesn't let himself dwell on them as much as he can help it—but altering memories isn't the same as changing what's happened. how disgraceful that would be. how disgraceful of him to even curiously wonder. those memories, his entire construction, are as a shrine to her passing.
it's probably like..... ten minutes before he responds. ]
Okay.
That's troubling.
Of course, you could lose some stupid memory, right? Like what you ate for breakfast two years and five months ago. But if you lose something important, I could see how someone would start to change.
I guess I won't experiment with that, then. It seemed too easy, anyway.
[as if you would have the balls to die, Midousuji. but he thinks he does.]