If that is what you would prefer.
[They're beyond argumentative impulse, beyond digging in their heels. This has...helped him, in some capacity, a concept that should be anathema but simply resolves into a dull ache in the center of their chest. Inescapable, like the breadth of their sins.
Sitting on their back, where they belong.]
[They're beyond argumentative impulse, beyond digging in their heels. This has...helped him, in some capacity, a concept that should be anathema but simply resolves into a dull ache in the center of their chest. Inescapable, like the breadth of their sins.
Sitting on their back, where they belong.]
i am interested in what you would prefer as well.
at any rate. Asriel is likely soon to arrive. i'll leave you here.
i apologize for any inconvenience. truly i do.
at any rate. Asriel is likely soon to arrive. i'll leave you here.
i apologize for any inconvenience. truly i do.
[Ha.
As if it were to be that easy. Apologies are meaningless; everyone knows that. What do they accomplish, truly, besides allowing the speaker to feel better about themselves for an imaginary bandage over a still-bleeding wound?]
I imagine the only inconvenience is in the fact that you felt you had to turn to me.
You should see to him, in any case.
As if it were to be that easy. Apologies are meaningless; everyone knows that. What do they accomplish, truly, besides allowing the speaker to feel better about themselves for an imaginary bandage over a still-bleeding wound?]
I imagine the only inconvenience is in the fact that you felt you had to turn to me.
You should see to him, in any case.
Request data.
Location/status: yourself, Asriel, Frisk?
Location/status: yourself, Asriel, Frisk?
[So it seems he got the memo. He would. He is nothing if not expeditious.]
En route out of Kauto R5.
[A pause.
And then, because they know they will both ask and persist in asking until Chara ascertains or they both waste precious time ascertaining themself, they have to blow out a long, low sigh before adding:]
Yourself?
En route out of Kauto R5.
[A pause.
And then, because they know they will both ask and persist in asking until Chara ascertains or they both waste precious time ascertaining themself, they have to blow out a long, low sigh before adding:]
Yourself?
[En route is good. Gone would be better.]
R1.
[For now.]
Status?
R1.
[For now.]
Status?
Alive.
[Ha ha, unfortunately. But he is as well, and that bodes well. Although...]
The other two are confused and worried on nearly everyone else's behalf.
I presume I'd be correct in believing the hazard would not have an effect on inorganic systems.
[Ha ha, unfortunately. But he is as well, and that bodes well. Although...]
The other two are confused and worried on nearly everyone else's behalf.
I presume I'd be correct in believing the hazard would not have an effect on inorganic systems.
[Well, that is an interesting question. Especially for the program who's still trying to pretend his gross biology dream meant nothing at all.]
Effect: less.
[Admission what admission nope nothing to see here. More relevantly:]
Assistance required?
Effect: less.
[Admission what admission nope nothing to see here. More relevantly:]
Assistance required?
Not at the moment.
[Effect less. But not nonexistent? That shouldn't be a concern, and yet - ]
Define "less."
[Effect less. But not nonexistent? That shouldn't be a concern, and yet - ]
Define "less."
At some point where neither of these jackasses can move
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mttbrandlegs
2017-06-09 06:44 am (UTC)(link)
[So. Here they are. Both of them are stuck in place, unable to move, but fairly lucid. Mettaton is anyway. It infuriates him with each passing moment how little he can affect anything around him. His body is like a leaden weight with no life to it, and he's perfectly clear on why that is.
Dying's a bitch.
Dying alone, though...he doesn't have to worry about that. Chara's here, and for the moment, they are the only one here. He's not a fan. And yet...considering their last conversation did not go too terribly, he's willing to take a chance and strike up a new one.]
Traveling places rarely leads to any good for us, does it?
[A poor excuse for salutations, but Mettaton doesn't sleep, and Chara hadn't moved. No greetings needed, right?]
Dying's a bitch.
Dying alone, though...he doesn't have to worry about that. Chara's here, and for the moment, they are the only one here. He's not a fan. And yet...considering their last conversation did not go too terribly, he's willing to take a chance and strike up a new one.]
Traveling places rarely leads to any good for us, does it?
[A poor excuse for salutations, but Mettaton doesn't sleep, and Chara hadn't moved. No greetings needed, right?]
[They've been possessed with little reason to move, and so they have not; remaining in place, back ramrod straight, staring dully ahead as they try and fail to sway their mind from the rapid pool and flow of thoughts they've no desire to dwell upon at large.
And then, Mettaton.
He is inorganic. He has little to concern himself over in terms of his own life, even they cannot claim he does not care to an uncertain extent for two thirds of the unfortunate trio of children native to his world. And said two thirds, naturally, care blithely back, leaving the responsibility of keeping him alive squarely upon their shoulders.
It is going poorly.
Exceedingly so.
He does not move when it requires undue effort, when he moves at all. His actions have become dulled and sluggish, as though a heavy pall has mantled itself over the slope of his shoulders. He still speaks, but his commentary is less and less frequent. He does not look pained so much as he simply appears to be...empty. Everything spilling by in an untextured, dispassionate rush while he sits idly by. He can deny the warning signs, if he wishes. He is a member of that species lucky enough to simply lose the will to live when enough hopelessness has been piled upon them, and it seems he lacks the energy to conceal the warning signs any longer.
When he speaks, Chara at long last flicks their gaze in his direction, balefully. One corner of their mouth twitches.]
I petitioned one simple job of you, Mettaton.
[Try not to die. Does he remember?
He is failing even in that.]
And then, Mettaton.
He is inorganic. He has little to concern himself over in terms of his own life, even they cannot claim he does not care to an uncertain extent for two thirds of the unfortunate trio of children native to his world. And said two thirds, naturally, care blithely back, leaving the responsibility of keeping him alive squarely upon their shoulders.
It is going poorly.
Exceedingly so.
He does not move when it requires undue effort, when he moves at all. His actions have become dulled and sluggish, as though a heavy pall has mantled itself over the slope of his shoulders. He still speaks, but his commentary is less and less frequent. He does not look pained so much as he simply appears to be...empty. Everything spilling by in an untextured, dispassionate rush while he sits idly by. He can deny the warning signs, if he wishes. He is a member of that species lucky enough to simply lose the will to live when enough hopelessness has been piled upon them, and it seems he lacks the energy to conceal the warning signs any longer.
When he speaks, Chara at long last flicks their gaze in his direction, balefully. One corner of their mouth twitches.]
I petitioned one simple job of you, Mettaton.
[Try not to die. Does he remember?
He is failing even in that.]
[Of course. He's failed them, and he cannot be left to think otherwise. If Chara hadn't said it, Mettaton would have believed them untruthful anyway. Chara must always tell him the uncomfortable truths and berate him for tasks left to pot.
Dying? That'syour his fault, isn't it?
Mettaton doesn't--can't--move his head much to look at them. Such a movement requires more energy than he can expend, and with the magic that makes him up reduced to a weak, faltering spark, he really can't bring himself to overtax himself. He knows what's coming. Now, at this point? It's just a matter of when and how he will go. This time, it won't be a body failing from blunt trauma and the tick down of HP.
No, this time the HP will simply cease to exist. And then he'll shatter into a billion infinitesimal pieces, gathering into a small, useless pile of powder.]
Let's not be disingenuous. Or would you have imposed such a request on me even if you didn't think it was an eventuality? I can't really believe that of you, honey.
[They had known. They wouldn't waste time beseeching him not to die if they didn't know. Not even he's worth that much effort, or so he believes. He does oft undervalue their relationship with both Asriel and Frisk.]
Dying? That's
Mettaton doesn't--can't--move his head much to look at them. Such a movement requires more energy than he can expend, and with the magic that makes him up reduced to a weak, faltering spark, he really can't bring himself to overtax himself. He knows what's coming. Now, at this point? It's just a matter of when and how he will go. This time, it won't be a body failing from blunt trauma and the tick down of HP.
No, this time the HP will simply cease to exist. And then he'll shatter into a billion infinitesimal pieces, gathering into a small, useless pile of powder.]
Let's not be disingenuous. Or would you have imposed such a request on me even if you didn't think it was an eventuality? I can't really believe that of you, honey.
[They had known. They wouldn't waste time beseeching him not to die if they didn't know. Not even he's worth that much effort, or so he believes. He does oft undervalue their relationship with both Asriel and Frisk.]
[They've come to recognize the signs, well enough. It's a simple instinct when you operate on that manner of edge for every waking moment of your days, and have for as long as you can remember. There is no escaping that which is intrinsic to the whole of your being; the corruption that eats at the SOUL and tints you, irrevocably, with the stink of your own inability to die and your own profound willingness to.
Monsters must have it so easy, in that manner. Untainted by the human determination that keeps children tethered to a world that refuses to relinquish its grasp around them, roots sunk into their flesh and drinking greedily at the lifeblood that's long since dried and left their veins hollow as straws.]
They will ask, you must realize.
[It is not preventable. It is not treatable.
Therefore, they will proceed to the next item on the list.]
They will wait anxiously for your return. They will hound the site of your death day and night. They will suspect that, as you and I are now alone together, I had some hand in the manner. One cannot fault them for that; that is simply how children are.
[That is simply how demons are. No matter the level of faith or trust either child may place in their humble servant, it is clear that they will never breach whatever bond exists between them and Mettaton. He is the friend they wished they always had, both of them, and Chara is merely - secondary. An afterthought. A tumor that swelled with such bulbous authority that they'd been reduced to structuring the patterns of their lives around them.
How much easier it would be to stay away forever.
A pity Shepard had felt it prudent to intercede.]
Monsters must have it so easy, in that manner. Untainted by the human determination that keeps children tethered to a world that refuses to relinquish its grasp around them, roots sunk into their flesh and drinking greedily at the lifeblood that's long since dried and left their veins hollow as straws.]
They will ask, you must realize.
[It is not preventable. It is not treatable.
Therefore, they will proceed to the next item on the list.]
They will wait anxiously for your return. They will hound the site of your death day and night. They will suspect that, as you and I are now alone together, I had some hand in the manner. One cannot fault them for that; that is simply how children are.
[That is simply how demons are. No matter the level of faith or trust either child may place in their humble servant, it is clear that they will never breach whatever bond exists between them and Mettaton. He is the friend they wished they always had, both of them, and Chara is merely - secondary. An afterthought. A tumor that swelled with such bulbous authority that they'd been reduced to structuring the patterns of their lives around them.
How much easier it would be to stay away forever.
A pity Shepard had felt it prudent to intercede.]
Indubitably, you did have a hand in this.
[Mettaton doesn't sugarcoat it. Unlike with Asriel or Frisk, he didn't feel a deep need to do so where Chara was concerned. If they felt it imperative that they were frank with him, he would repay the favor.
It is their fault he's fallen to this point. There's only so much burden a monster can shoulder. Unlike humans, their constitution is weak. The threads of physicality that hold them together are so fine, so rare, that with just magic and the feelings which fuel it...it's inevitable that a monster dies when they fall to despair.
To his credit, Mettaton clung onto his life stubbornly, for an impossible amount of time.]
However, this particular instant has nothing to do with it, and they both should know that. Asriel in particular, I have already spoken with. But you, who is masterful at seeking out the weakness of others, should have seen it too. I guess you hate monsters like me enough that it didn't matter even if you could see.
[He smiles, but it's not a smile. It hurts.]
I'll come back. They will be relieved. Things will proceed as they have. After all, we've fallen off the edge of the map, but a game is only ever a game.
[Cynicism, perhaps. But for a group of children who can SAVE, LOAD, and RESET, what else can it be but a game? Even Mettaton can't deny the farce.]
I'll try not to disappoint again.
[Mettaton doesn't sugarcoat it. Unlike with Asriel or Frisk, he didn't feel a deep need to do so where Chara was concerned. If they felt it imperative that they were frank with him, he would repay the favor.
It is their fault he's fallen to this point. There's only so much burden a monster can shoulder. Unlike humans, their constitution is weak. The threads of physicality that hold them together are so fine, so rare, that with just magic and the feelings which fuel it...it's inevitable that a monster dies when they fall to despair.
To his credit, Mettaton clung onto his life stubbornly, for an impossible amount of time.]
However, this particular instant has nothing to do with it, and they both should know that. Asriel in particular, I have already spoken with. But you, who is masterful at seeking out the weakness of others, should have seen it too. I guess you hate monsters like me enough that it didn't matter even if you could see.
[He smiles, but it's not a smile. It hurts.]
I'll come back. They will be relieved. Things will proceed as they have. After all, we've fallen off the edge of the map, but a game is only ever a game.
[Cynicism, perhaps. But for a group of children who can SAVE, LOAD, and RESET, what else can it be but a game? Even Mettaton can't deny the farce.]
I'll try not to disappoint again.
[There's a momentary hesitation. But...]
Similar disturbance to rest cycle.
No other effects known.
Similar disturbance to rest cycle.
No other effects known.
[Of course it's their fault. It was not the slavers that broke him. It was not the visit to the Outpost in the Runoff that broke him. It was not, ostensibly, losing person after person he held very dear and panicking as a result of it. It was not the stress and pain of seeing the results of that doomed endeavor to tear the Outpost asunder, and the results that came of that.
It was harsh words from a single child.
Because it's different when you do it, Chara. It's always different when it's you. You're the one who cannot ever pull your punches, whose frankness reduces monsters to dust simply via extended contact, whose cynicism is fatal. You're the one who cannot possibly call situations as you see them, because there will be consequences, and those consequences will be fatal, as most things involving you are.]
Monsters are hypocrites. They all deserved what I gave them. Every one.
[Spoken without inflection, without remorse. They could claim some manner of sorrow for it, but what would that accomplish? They are not sorry. They could never be sorry. Apologies, pity, are nothing but self-serving attempts for the party that committed the wrongdoing to feel marginally better about their part in it.
They've not earned that.]
It was harsh words from a single child.
Because it's different when you do it, Chara. It's always different when it's you. You're the one who cannot ever pull your punches, whose frankness reduces monsters to dust simply via extended contact, whose cynicism is fatal. You're the one who cannot possibly call situations as you see them, because there will be consequences, and those consequences will be fatal, as most things involving you are.]
Monsters are hypocrites. They all deserved what I gave them. Every one.
[Spoken without inflection, without remorse. They could claim some manner of sorrow for it, but what would that accomplish? They are not sorry. They could never be sorry. Apologies, pity, are nothing but self-serving attempts for the party that committed the wrongdoing to feel marginally better about their part in it.
They've not earned that.]
Other effects possible due to prolonged exposure.
[Do not mistake this for "worry." It is simple damage assessment. Nothing more.]
[Do not mistake this for "worry." It is simple damage assessment. Nothing more.]
It's a shame you didn't really do much, isn't it? I would have preferred you, and only you, to any other situations which I have had to endure.
[Mettaton can't fully decipher what they're thinking, to be honest. But he can guess they're placing more credit on their actions than he is. Because they've proven to think in absolutes, whereas he doesn't. He has a lot of shit going on in his head, and all Chara had really contributed was pushing him to the brink.
Even going back to the Outpost had been their idea...and yet he didn't blame them entirely for it. He'd gone there. He'd gotten himself into trouble.]
Still, you are right. Monsters are hypocrites.
So are humans, but your focus is unilaterally fixated. This is something that I can understand.
[Even...if he doesn't agree with it, he'll accept it as best he can. If he's going to die, he'll die with some closure, because Chara mightn't think much of it, but a monster in such despair will eventually die, as he's doing now.
Mettaton would like to limit his death count in this manner to only one.]
[Mettaton can't fully decipher what they're thinking, to be honest. But he can guess they're placing more credit on their actions than he is. Because they've proven to think in absolutes, whereas he doesn't. He has a lot of shit going on in his head, and all Chara had really contributed was pushing him to the brink.
Even going back to the Outpost had been their idea...and yet he didn't blame them entirely for it. He'd gone there. He'd gotten himself into trouble.]
Still, you are right. Monsters are hypocrites.
So are humans, but your focus is unilaterally fixated. This is something that I can understand.
[Even...if he doesn't agree with it, he'll accept it as best he can. If he's going to die, he'll die with some closure, because Chara mightn't think much of it, but a monster in such despair will eventually die, as he's doing now.
Mettaton would like to limit his death count in this manner to only one.]
[Better the devil you know. Is that it?]
Did Asriel not inform you? I have always hated humanity.
[They've a lot hatred in their SOUL to Spare, it turns out. A wealth of LOVE in their heart and a legion of beings who would attack a child, who would not ask them to defend themself and then blame them for daring to hit back against a world that did nothing but grind their face into the dust.]
Hating one species does not absolve the other of its collective sins.
[They know precisely what they are. What they're capable of. What horrors they've the capacity to inflict.
They are not above consequences.]
Did Asriel not inform you? I have always hated humanity.
[They've a lot hatred in their SOUL to Spare, it turns out. A wealth of LOVE in their heart and a legion of beings who would attack a child, who would not ask them to defend themself and then blame them for daring to hit back against a world that did nothing but grind their face into the dust.]
Hating one species does not absolve the other of its collective sins.
[They know precisely what they are. What they're capable of. What horrors they've the capacity to inflict.
They are not above consequences.]
Chara...
[Mettaton hesitates after saying their name. Asriel didn't need to tell him that they hated humanity for him to get the picture, but there's still so many questions left unanswered. Even with the entire history of all things that could happen catalogued in his mind...Mettaton didn't know much about Chara.
He did want to, though he doubted they would tell him.
...But what the hell, he's dying anyway. Asking a question can't expedite it further at this point.]
Why do you hate humanity? Why do you not forgive?
[The robot doubts that he'll get an answer. But he's asked it anyway. Talking is the only action he has left to perform, and some days it's hard to do even that. How lucky for Chara, huh?]
[Mettaton hesitates after saying their name. Asriel didn't need to tell him that they hated humanity for him to get the picture, but there's still so many questions left unanswered. Even with the entire history of all things that could happen catalogued in his mind...Mettaton didn't know much about Chara.
He did want to, though he doubted they would tell him.
...But what the hell, he's dying anyway. Asking a question can't expedite it further at this point.]
Why do you hate humanity? Why do you not forgive?
[The robot doubts that he'll get an answer. But he's asked it anyway. Talking is the only action he has left to perform, and some days it's hard to do even that. How lucky for Chara, huh?]
[That earns a laugh. A small, brusque huff of one, utterly mirthless. Oh, but he knows how to twist the knife in. Perhaps they should thank him for that. A tint of yellow in his SOUL, perhaps, to match the button that flashed in gold, that turned a SOUL into a pea-shooter.
Perhaps more indicative than first assumed.
They smile, a grim, rueful twist of the lips.]
Do you forgive me, Mettaton?
Perhaps more indicative than first assumed.
They smile, a grim, rueful twist of the lips.]
Do you forgive me, Mettaton?
Unknown.
[And just as little relevant.]
Current vector?
[And just as little relevant.]
Current vector?
[Well.
That certainly isn't what he expected. It shows in the way his brow rises, nearly disappearing into his hairline out of how surprised he was. But it was...well, it was a question.
Certainly, it was. A. Question.
One he's not sure how to answer, and which tugs at his SOUL in an unpleasant way. He...doesn't want to think too hard about this. It's complicated. Alas.]
Do I forgive you? Haha...
[He wishes he could move his arms, to add any body language at all to what he's saying. But of course, he can't. That's simply not within his power to do. Not even to scratch nervously at his neck as the torn circuitry exposed by the awful gash buzzed and irritated him.]
It depends on what I'm forgiving you for, and whether it would actually hold any weight, me being who I am.
[Not just a monster...he's Mettaton. Mettaton has done many unsavory things, treated others like tools, and will probably continue to behave in a self-serving or self-interested fashion. Of course, part of that would be to right himself from this depressive state, but he's still a terrible individual. Does it matter?]
That certainly isn't what he expected. It shows in the way his brow rises, nearly disappearing into his hairline out of how surprised he was. But it was...well, it was a question.
Certainly, it was. A. Question.
One he's not sure how to answer, and which tugs at his SOUL in an unpleasant way. He...doesn't want to think too hard about this. It's complicated. Alas.]
Do I forgive you? Haha...
[He wishes he could move his arms, to add any body language at all to what he's saying. But of course, he can't. That's simply not within his power to do. Not even to scratch nervously at his neck as the torn circuitry exposed by the awful gash buzzed and irritated him.]
It depends on what I'm forgiving you for, and whether it would actually hold any weight, me being who I am.
[Not just a monster...he's Mettaton. Mettaton has done many unsavory things, treated others like tools, and will probably continue to behave in a self-serving or self-interested fashion. Of course, part of that would be to right himself from this depressive state, but he's still a terrible individual. Does it matter?]
Undefined.
[They have no idea. They've not been keeping track.]
We've not stopped to take stock of our surroundings since this began.
[They have no idea. They've not been keeping track.]
We've not stopped to take stock of our surroundings since this began.
[Chara inclines their head, faintly. There it is. A question for a question, and an answer far more cohesive than any explanation could hope to be. They are singular, as he is. If there have been lines drawn in the dirt, they crossed them long before arriving here. They burned every book. Spoiled every page. Sunk fingertips into the ashes until their nails were ugly, clotted with dark crescents of filth.]
Not as simple as a slogan on a self-help manual.
Let me put it another way.
[Perhaps they should consider this humoring him. He is making, remarkable as it may seem, some vague attempt to understand. Some poorly conceptualized, poorly implemented attempt on his proverbial deathbed, because he simply has nothing else to lose.
So humor him. Laughter is, after all, the best medicine. Is it not?]
If I were to forgive every person who had ever wronged me, starting today...
What possible effect would that have?
[They would not care, simply put. They would not have the capacity to care. They would not have any idea, assuming they devoted any brain cells to wondering about the child that scaled a mountain such a very long time ago, assuming they remainder of them are still alive to do so, that they had been absolved of their sins, free to live out the rest of their lives content that there would be no consequences for their actions, no fallout for the pair of children they murdered for the monstrosity of their appearance.]
Not as simple as a slogan on a self-help manual.
Let me put it another way.
[Perhaps they should consider this humoring him. He is making, remarkable as it may seem, some vague attempt to understand. Some poorly conceptualized, poorly implemented attempt on his proverbial deathbed, because he simply has nothing else to lose.
So humor him. Laughter is, after all, the best medicine. Is it not?]
If I were to forgive every person who had ever wronged me, starting today...
What possible effect would that have?
[They would not care, simply put. They would not have the capacity to care. They would not have any idea, assuming they devoted any brain cells to wondering about the child that scaled a mountain such a very long time ago, assuming they remainder of them are still alive to do so, that they had been absolved of their sins, free to live out the rest of their lives content that there would be no consequences for their actions, no fallout for the pair of children they murdered for the monstrosity of their appearance.]
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