He texts them out of nowhere, after making it clear that he thinks next to little of them, that he has no desire to interact with them outside of what is utterly necessary. He does not, as it stands, get along with the fallen child; who would have ever imagined something like that?
And now he breaks that vow of silence, following their tenuous truce on the - planet they've not thought about since, and for what purpose?
To ask them about the time, devoid of his typical all-caps pomp and verve?
[As to what he attempted to verify? Why bother telling them? Did Chara really want to know what he was doing? Were they really in any state to do so?
If pushed, Mettaton might take the conversation somewhere that neither of them would like. In fact--he'd certainly do it on purpose.
After all, he deserved their ire, their cold words, and their sarcasm. He would take it all on if he had to, because their situation, the entire situation thus far fell squarely on his shoulders for telling them about the slavery outpost at all.
He's not even getting punished for it by the Savrii because they don't know.
All of that, of course, pales in comparison to what is actually causing him to do this.]
[To verify what, exactly? The world, as it spins surely and inevitably onward? Does he...stare into the middle distance, uncertain and disoriented, wondering why he cannot feel himself? Does everything feel shifted to one side by an inch, by a mile?
[Not very strange, no. But one doesn't typically do that without purpose. The burden would fall to them, naturally, to ease the slide and general progression of things. To ensure that this does not worsen to the point of impossibility. If he were to sink beyond the point of recovering -
Asriel. Frisk.
Doubtless they would never forgive them, for allowing such to happen.
Something is, inevitably, extremely off-kilter, and their task remains coldly outlined from the start. Keep him on this side of the abyss. Do not watch him falter.
Your humble servant has received its necessary instruction.]
Your name is Mettaton. You were built by Alphys, or so you continuously claim, though her story of your origins is as full of holes as any other improbable story of hers. You were once the star of the Underground, laden with glaring pomp and a monumental ego to match.
And then you came here.
Feel your neck. Count your fingers. There are ten of them, yes? Count the threads in the ridiculous scarf you wear. Count the amount of chairs in your house. Affirm that they are there, just as you are.
Everything is in its place. Everything is as it should be.
[It takes Mettaton a long while to respond to that, not because he thought Chara's advisement was in any way disingenuous, although maybe it was. But...it's startling to him how very exact they were. How it sounds as if they have experienced this before.
He takes a while because...he's following some of that advice. He's trying to focus on the simple tasks, and the small truths. It's not entirely successful, but he gave it a shot so...]
there is a lot to worry about
that being said
["would it surprise you to know that i am fortunate for your presence here?"
...no. He deletes that and amends it.]
thank you
but not everything is as it should be. and it never will be again.
[There is a lot to worry about. A borrowed line of dialogue that was never theirs to begin with, well, that hardly resolves anything. It doesn't mean much at all, in the grander scheme of things.
It means they talked him away from an edge he was potentially creeping toward. How good, for them. How atypically good.]
Things seldom are.
Yet as I understand it, you are not, at the present moment, dying. It may feel as such, but you are currently alive, for a certain value of "alive." Your thoughts may continue to insist otherwise, but I've found such things do not necessarily hold water.
[Unless they do.
The only person who could answer that query, of course, would be Mettaton himself.]
i suppose that you are correct. i am not really dying. that would be foolish to think.
[Mettaton can't tell Chara that they are in any way incorrect. He can't argue with them over what he's feeling, nor does he want to. He just wants it to stop. And for the moment, their advisement has indeed staved off the worst of it. Maybe not forever.
But for now, it simmers in the back of his mind, and at least for the moment...he still has the will to ACT. That's important.]
you seem very familiar with this kind of situation
[They're stalling, and it's likely glaringly obvious. But in answering in earnest rather than with something barbed and desolate, they'd opened this window, no doubt. Have no one to blame but themself, for this!
Too late to turn him aside now. To sweep the rug out from under his feet would be -
There would be a certain poetic justice, to that. Certainly, they are that cruel. But they've bared themself to this just as easily, and he could do the very same to them.
the kind where someone gives very apt advice to a very specific situation.
Chara, i will not pry.
i was just making an observation.
[Far from turning it around on them, Mettaton can't say he has the effort to do so. Rather, he'd prefer to just keep things on a peaceable level. With his mind in such a precarious state, he doesn't want to risk Chara's ire.
Their words would be less like barbs and more like heated spikes driven into every inch of his writhing body, punishing him like he rightly deserved, but hurting him all the same. He's a coward. He won't risk it.]
Then in the interest of mutually-assured observations, I suppose I will elect not to pry either.
[Easier, is it not? To circle one another warily as opposed to going for the throat, seeking, ripping, tearing, watching the inflorescence of EXP drool into LOVE and redden everything, stain it with the grain and gray of dust.
Shepard, she...
She left a mark. That which cannot be refuted, cannot be ignored, cannot be cast aside.
This is her fault. Of this they are quite certain.]
I would advise that you continue to put effort into not dying.
[Haven't you heard the saying, Mettaton, that you can't play a player?]
I trust Asriel is already on his way.
[He has grown increasingly difficult to pry from Mettaton's side, for reasons beyond their comprehension. Given Mettaton's apparent desire for validation from even those whom he's made his dislike quite transparent, they cannot say they're surprised.]
[Of course, Mettaton would never turn Asriel away. They're too close for that at this point. For the barest moment, there's a twinge of guilt, because he feels as if he's robbing the other children of their sibling.
But now...who else can Mettaton turn to?
Who else is there that he can speak to about this?
Once he has an idea set in his head, very little can sway him from it.
[They would tell him, were he inclined to listen, that it is not his moral duty to ensure that Mettaton is not self-destructing at any given moment. That for all his desire to offer out a hand to every anthropomorphized conflagration he encounters, sometimes it would be safer, for everyone, if he were to sit back and just let it burn.
[One of them more than once. The slow sink of their organs shutting down, one by one, the bloodied smears that trailed down their front, down their back, staining the sheets in every awful, disgusting fluid possible. As quickly as they'd replaced the blankets where they sat there, sweating, bleeding, retching, pissing, they would have fetch fresh ones.
How fitting, that they'd essentially drowned in their own filth.]
Amazingly, this did not do us many favors down the road.
but in my opinion, nothing that you did was for bad reasons. you were both just children.
[Perhaps that was too personal.
But personal or not, Mettaton can't erase his knowledge. He sorely wishes that he could...but such is not possible. Everything he saw was with him until the day that he was unmade.
Hah...even then, he doubted he'd forget.
The words of two children, plotting to do what their father had never once taken action on until after blood had been spilled. To free everyone.
...Funny, isn't it? How sympathetic Mettaton could be on the other side of a TAB. But it was never to Chara's face. Not because he didn't want to be, but because sympathy was a crime. They wouldn't believe it if they saw it.
They never would. It was his fault. He couldn't convey himself properly.]
Is it one favor for another? One kindness in exchange for a handful of pointless words? As though one small moment in which they did not twist the knife in deeper is worth a medal, an excuse for their actions, as though they did not deserve every inch, every mile?]
Perhaps it is nice of you to say so, but I know what I am and the extent of my crimes. I will not run from my sins.
[They will not run from their sins, nor will they run from anyone else's. That guilt cannot be supplanted, no matter how many pleasant words are pasted over the open wound.]
[But is Asriel not their victim? Subject to their manipulations, their exploitations, their toxic, venomous whims? Did they not lead him astray, commit him to ash and dirt and the destruction of their own kind? Did they not sully him, stain that snowy white fur with gray and red, just as they corrupt everything they touch?
They could argue.
He did not come to them, in any case, to argue. Accept your place, Chara. Accept every moment of it. You have learned what happens when you attempt to forge a FIGHT where none should exist.
[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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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He texts them out of nowhere, after making it clear that he thinks next to little of them, that he has no desire to interact with them outside of what is utterly necessary. He does not, as it stands, get along with the fallen child; who would have ever imagined something like that?
And now he breaks that vow of silence, following their tenuous truce on the - planet they've not thought about since, and for what purpose?
To ask them about the time, devoid of his typical all-caps pomp and verve?
No.]
Time to throw obfuscation to the winds.
What do you want?
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[As to what he attempted to verify? Why bother telling them? Did Chara really want to know what he was doing? Were they really in any state to do so?
If pushed, Mettaton might take the conversation somewhere that neither of them would like. In fact--he'd certainly do it on purpose.
After all, he deserved their ire, their cold words, and their sarcasm. He would take it all on if he had to, because their situation, the entire situation thus far fell squarely on his shoulders for telling them about the slavery outpost at all.
He's not even getting punished for it by the Savrii because they don't know.
All of that, of course, pales in comparison to what is actually causing him to do this.]
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To verify what?
A moment passes. Another.]
The time?
Or something else?
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that is not very strange, is it? to count. to verify.
don't you sometimes wish to verify the things all around you? or maybe i'm nothing but a simple robot.
[What does Chara think?]
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Asriel. Frisk.
Doubtless they would never forgive them, for allowing such to happen.
Something is, inevitably, extremely off-kilter, and their task remains coldly outlined from the start. Keep him on this side of the abyss. Do not watch him falter.
Your humble servant has received its necessary instruction.]
Your name is Mettaton. You were built by Alphys, or so you continuously claim, though her story of your origins is as full of holes as any other improbable story of hers. You were once the star of the Underground, laden with glaring pomp and a monumental ego to match.
And then you came here.
Feel your neck. Count your fingers. There are ten of them, yes? Count the threads in the ridiculous scarf you wear. Count the amount of chairs in your house. Affirm that they are there, just as you are.
Everything is in its place. Everything is as it should be.
So.
Take a deep breath.
There's nothing left to worry about.
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He takes a while because...he's following some of that advice. He's trying to focus on the simple tasks, and the small truths. It's not entirely successful, but he gave it a shot so...]
there is a lot to worry about
that being said
["would it surprise you to know that i am fortunate for your presence here?"
...no. He deletes that and amends it.]
thank you
but not everything is as it should be. and it never will be again.
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It means they talked him away from an edge he was potentially creeping toward. How good, for them. How atypically good.]
Things seldom are.
Yet as I understand it, you are not, at the present moment, dying. It may feel as such, but you are currently alive, for a certain value of "alive." Your thoughts may continue to insist otherwise, but I've found such things do not necessarily hold water.
[Unless they do.
The only person who could answer that query, of course, would be Mettaton himself.]
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[Mettaton can't tell Chara that they are in any way incorrect. He can't argue with them over what he's feeling, nor does he want to. He just wants it to stop. And for the moment, their advisement has indeed staved off the worst of it. Maybe not forever.
But for now, it simmers in the back of his mind, and at least for the moment...he still has the will to ACT. That's important.]
you seem very familiar with this kind of situation
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[They're stalling, and it's likely glaringly obvious. But in answering in earnest rather than with something barbed and desolate, they'd opened this window, no doubt. Have no one to blame but themself, for this!
Too late to turn him aside now. To sweep the rug out from under his feet would be -
There would be a certain poetic justice, to that. Certainly, they are that cruel. But they've bared themself to this just as easily, and he could do the very same to them.
It would be deserved.]
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Chara, i will not pry.
i was just making an observation.
[Far from turning it around on them, Mettaton can't say he has the effort to do so. Rather, he'd prefer to just keep things on a peaceable level. With his mind in such a precarious state, he doesn't want to risk Chara's ire.
Their words would be less like barbs and more like heated spikes driven into every inch of his writhing body, punishing him like he rightly deserved, but hurting him all the same. He's a coward. He won't risk it.]
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[Easier, is it not? To circle one another warily as opposed to going for the throat, seeking, ripping, tearing, watching the inflorescence of EXP drool into LOVE and redden everything, stain it with the grain and gray of dust.
Shepard, she...
She left a mark. That which cannot be refuted, cannot be ignored, cannot be cast aside.
This is her fault. Of this they are quite certain.]
I would advise that you continue to put effort into not dying.
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[He's not entirely sure if that's honest, of course, but better not to tell Chara that. Bit too much fuel to the fire, isn't it?]
thank you for answering.
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I trust Asriel is already on his way.
[He has grown increasingly difficult to pry from Mettaton's side, for reasons beyond their comprehension. Given Mettaton's apparent desire for validation from even those whom he's made his dislike quite transparent, they cannot say they're surprised.]
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i'm sure that he'll disregard that
[Of course, Mettaton would never turn Asriel away. They're too close for that at this point. For the barest moment, there's a twinge of guilt, because he feels as if he's robbing the other children of their sibling.
But now...who else can Mettaton turn to?
Who else is there that he can speak to about this?
He's gone.]
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[They would tell him, were he inclined to listen, that it is not his moral duty to ensure that Mettaton is not self-destructing at any given moment. That for all his desire to offer out a hand to every anthropomorphized conflagration he encounters, sometimes it would be safer, for everyone, if he were to sit back and just let it burn.
Fire has a penchant for spreading.]
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[Mettaton quickly realizes that he's probably said something wrong, and the next message comes in immediately.]
i'm sorry. that was very rude.
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Is it ever. But why should it not also be true?]
It applies. Our family resemblance extends beyond our penchant for terrible decisions, you know.
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And right now, talking to Chara--yes, Chara of all people--is drawing him away from his despairing thoughts.
He'll take what he can get.]
i know. it's not exactly subtle. you two are very close, and why shouldn't you be? you're siblings. you grew together, you played together.
i can see the similarities.
[That, at least, he doesn't mean as an insult. But Chara and Asriel share several traits with each other, some fairly harmless.
Others, well...]
cw description of poisoning
[One of them more than once. The slow sink of their organs shutting down, one by one, the bloodied smears that trailed down their front, down their back, staining the sheets in every awful, disgusting fluid possible. As quickly as they'd replaced the blankets where they sat there, sweating, bleeding, retching, pissing, they would have fetch fresh ones.
How fitting, that they'd essentially drowned in their own filth.]
Amazingly, this did not do us many favors down the road.
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but in my opinion, nothing that you did was for bad reasons. you were both just children.
[Perhaps that was too personal.
But personal or not, Mettaton can't erase his knowledge. He sorely wishes that he could...but such is not possible. Everything he saw was with him until the day that he was unmade.
Hah...even then, he doubted he'd forget.
The words of two children, plotting to do what their father had never once taken action on until after blood had been spilled. To free everyone.
...Funny, isn't it? How sympathetic Mettaton could be on the other side of a TAB. But it was never to Chara's face. Not because he didn't want to be, but because sympathy was a crime. They wouldn't believe it if they saw it.
They never would. It was his fault. He couldn't convey himself properly.]
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Is it one favor for another? One kindness in exchange for a handful of pointless words? As though one small moment in which they did not twist the knife in deeper is worth a medal, an excuse for their actions, as though they did not deserve every inch, every mile?]
Perhaps it is nice of you to say so, but I know what I am and the extent of my crimes. I will not run from my sins.
[They will not run from their sins, nor will they run from anyone else's. That guilt cannot be supplanted, no matter how many pleasant words are pasted over the open wound.]
None of us ever can.
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but to blame you is tantamount to blaming Asriel. i will never, ever blame him for what happened. you cannot expect me to put the blame on you.
or if you do, that is something i cannot agree with
i'm not saying you are a perfect person. hardly.
but having seen the things i have, i am allowed to form my own opinions.
[Hah...he's talking about this again. He shouldn't be talking about this again, because it always leads to the same thing; panic. Breaking down.
So...basically what he'd just experienced for an entirely different reason.]
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They could argue.
He did not come to them, in any case, to argue. Accept your place, Chara. Accept every moment of it. You have learned what happens when you attempt to forge a FIGHT where none should exist.
Someone else receives your blame.]
If you insist.
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[A few moments later, he adds:]
perhaps we can discuss this civilly another time. in more detail.
that is up to you, of course.
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[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.]
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