[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.
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.
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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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
[A few moments later, he adds:]
perhaps we can discuss this civilly another time. in more detail.
that is up to you, of course.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
at any rate. Asriel is likely soon to arrive. i'll leave you here.
i apologize for any inconvenience. truly i do.
no subject
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.