[Belatedly, Mettaton nods, lost in thought. Settled back comfortably, staring at the dark, warm hair of the man laying under the covers with him; tousling it idly, thinking about painful truths. The things he always liked to glance away from, hoping they'd smooth over. He did have much to improve upon still... Though Mettaton gives himself credit, thinking he's gotten better at it.
(And yet he hasn't even told his cousin who he is. When has he done better than averting his gaze?)
Lost in thought, Irhya's words fall upon his ears as though in queue for being processed. Amaurot; Emet-Selch's fear of loss. And to nearly lose someone he's met in a cross-dimensional pocket like Geardagas of all places, it was no small wonder it plagued him the way it did. This isn't news to Mettaton; he only knows he needs to do better on keeping Emet-Selch's pace.
—Mettaton's ears would rise in recognition, if they weren't so damaged.]
Azem? [Excitably, he repeats the name like it's definitely not the first time he's heard it. But it's clear this is a new context for him.] How do you know them? Then again... [He snorts, rolling his eyes.] I wonder if I should even ask.
[Affectionately, disdainfully; Mettaton feels he has a peculiar relationship to his friend. His friend, Azem. ...Emet-Selch has never mentioned Azem by name to Mettaton, though he's described them before. Mettaton hasn't had enough time between revival and now to analyze his own memories.
...The oddest thing that slowly creeps up on him is that Mettaton can't quite remember many details about his friend. It's discombobulating.]
no subject
[Belatedly, Mettaton nods, lost in thought. Settled back comfortably, staring at the dark, warm hair of the man laying under the covers with him; tousling it idly, thinking about painful truths. The things he always liked to glance away from, hoping they'd smooth over. He did have much to improve upon still... Though Mettaton gives himself credit, thinking he's gotten better at it.
(And yet he hasn't even told his cousin who he is. When has he done better than averting his gaze?)
Lost in thought, Irhya's words fall upon his ears as though in queue for being processed. Amaurot; Emet-Selch's fear of loss. And to nearly lose someone he's met in a cross-dimensional pocket like Geardagas of all places, it was no small wonder it plagued him the way it did. This isn't news to Mettaton; he only knows he needs to do better on keeping Emet-Selch's pace.
—Mettaton's ears would rise in recognition, if they weren't so damaged.]
Azem? [Excitably, he repeats the name like it's definitely not the first time he's heard it. But it's clear this is a new context for him.] How do you know them? Then again... [He snorts, rolling his eyes.] I wonder if I should even ask.
[Affectionately, disdainfully; Mettaton feels he has a peculiar relationship to his friend. His friend, Azem. ...Emet-Selch has never mentioned Azem by name to Mettaton, though he's described them before. Mettaton hasn't had enough time between revival and now to analyze his own memories.
...The oddest thing that slowly creeps up on him is that Mettaton can't quite remember many details about his friend. It's discombobulating.]