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In dealing with the Ascians, so often their expressions are covered by a mask. Elidibus had shown a range of emotion before when he first appeared in Ardbert's body. Still, a notable expression is novel. In particular, the way the Emissary slowly lets one eyebrow arc high in the wake of Irhya's indignation.
And her explanation of why the curse is present.
"I see." There is recognition in his tone which suggests Elidibus remembers mention of the shops in question. He had of course avoided such a suspicious environment and decides not to vocalize this fact aloud. What follows is long regard and thoughtful ponderance as it becomes clear he's considering several options at that moment. And given the options are broadly 'help Irhya' and 'let her continue under the curse', that probably isn't immediately reassuring.
What Emet-Selch would or would not reap might be a small part of the matter considered. If his fellow Unsundered has had reason not to aid his Bonded Warrior of Light with this issue. "Why have you sought my aid? What of Emet-Selch? Or the Coven?" The latter seemed a more favorable solution. Surely the native Witches would be discreet?
And her explanation of why the curse is present.
"I see." There is recognition in his tone which suggests Elidibus remembers mention of the shops in question. He had of course avoided such a suspicious environment and decides not to vocalize this fact aloud. What follows is long regard and thoughtful ponderance as it becomes clear he's considering several options at that moment. And given the options are broadly 'help Irhya' and 'let her continue under the curse', that probably isn't immediately reassuring.
What Emet-Selch would or would not reap might be a small part of the matter considered. If his fellow Unsundered has had reason not to aid his Bonded Warrior of Light with this issue. "Why have you sought my aid? What of Emet-Selch? Or the Coven?" The latter seemed a more favorable solution. Surely the native Witches would be discreet?
"Emet-Selch doesn't know much about the curses of this world, evidently, so the best he can do is all physical, and I'd prefer not to trouble him constantly, at least. And the Coven..." Irhya hesitates. "I'll be honest, I don't know how much I trust the Coven, and I'm not saying that out of embarrassment or shame."
Perhaps she'll end up having to swallow her pride in the end, she thinks, but it was bad enough having to rely on them for Cwyld treatment, even remembering what had transpired during the liberation of Dorchacht.
Every magic has a price.
"There is one other I might turn to, but he's been sparse, and I've been unable to get a hold of him recently. So that's my remaining recourse." She slides the saddle across the table, locking eyes with him. "That's why."
Perhaps she'll end up having to swallow her pride in the end, she thinks, but it was bad enough having to rely on them for Cwyld treatment, even remembering what had transpired during the liberation of Dorchacht.
Every magic has a price.
"There is one other I might turn to, but he's been sparse, and I've been unable to get a hold of him recently. So that's my remaining recourse." She slides the saddle across the table, locking eyes with him. "That's why."
"For a world so desperate for salvation, it seems to have an overabundance of energy," Elidibus offers very dryly. But there is no evidence of surprise. After all, Hydaelyn's own behavior had been similar. Constantly broadcast, throw out Her energy and slowly waning. The problem lay in what similar behavior might mean for those stuck on this world.
Much follows. Conversation, anger, careful grooming, tending of the bitten ear, and mending of the dented metal. A silent exchange of curiosity and bemusement over the puca's mannerisms. But at least this all kept the Emissary from pursuing 'Lidi-darling' overly long. Mettaton will have plenty of chances to try to get him to give up on correcting the nickname in the future.
But while the Emissary finishes removing the mats, Emet-Selch offers insight into those terrible final moments between himself and Mettaton. The puca will feel Elidibus's actions slow, though not stop. The Ascian is giving his fellow Unsundered a look that seems utterly unfathomable in its intent to absorb every nuance that accompanies what was just heard. There was nothing if not madness in the recitation of events or so it seemed. But now was not the time to raise outburst anymore than it would be time to give in to his anger over the demise experienced by his fellow Convocation member.
Elidibus has recovered enough of his usual manner by the time Mettaton growls at the suggestion of being removed from the bed and hardly misses how Emet-Selch echos, in his own way, the sentiment against being parted. And while it is not as though he had suggested that they move to separate rooms, the Emissary does content himself to a certain resigned sigh at this behavior and steps away while the two Bonded discuss the matter.
Not to leave the room but to rearrange the small amount of furnishings in the room. Specifically where a side table by the bed on Emet-Selch's side can be moved away and the chair he intended to set Mettaton- a sturdy, functional seat- is very pointedly placed with one side flush against the bed and backrest against the wall. There would be a means for the puca to reach his fiance and a way for Elidibus to work on bathing and changing bandages.
A little extra time is given as he leaves the room to fetch a second chair. This one, on return, is placed next to the first. Because Emet-Selch will need a place to go when the bedding is cleaned. And Elidibus is going to be drawing the line at catering to their reluctance to part so far as to nest one on top of the other.
Much follows. Conversation, anger, careful grooming, tending of the bitten ear, and mending of the dented metal. A silent exchange of curiosity and bemusement over the puca's mannerisms. But at least this all kept the Emissary from pursuing 'Lidi-darling' overly long. Mettaton will have plenty of chances to try to get him to give up on correcting the nickname in the future.
But while the Emissary finishes removing the mats, Emet-Selch offers insight into those terrible final moments between himself and Mettaton. The puca will feel Elidibus's actions slow, though not stop. The Ascian is giving his fellow Unsundered a look that seems utterly unfathomable in its intent to absorb every nuance that accompanies what was just heard. There was nothing if not madness in the recitation of events or so it seemed. But now was not the time to raise outburst anymore than it would be time to give in to his anger over the demise experienced by his fellow Convocation member.
Elidibus has recovered enough of his usual manner by the time Mettaton growls at the suggestion of being removed from the bed and hardly misses how Emet-Selch echos, in his own way, the sentiment against being parted. And while it is not as though he had suggested that they move to separate rooms, the Emissary does content himself to a certain resigned sigh at this behavior and steps away while the two Bonded discuss the matter.
Not to leave the room but to rearrange the small amount of furnishings in the room. Specifically where a side table by the bed on Emet-Selch's side can be moved away and the chair he intended to set Mettaton- a sturdy, functional seat- is very pointedly placed with one side flush against the bed and backrest against the wall. There would be a means for the puca to reach his fiance and a way for Elidibus to work on bathing and changing bandages.
A little extra time is given as he leaves the room to fetch a second chair. This one, on return, is placed next to the first. Because Emet-Selch will need a place to go when the bedding is cleaned. And Elidibus is going to be drawing the line at catering to their reluctance to part so far as to nest one on top of the other.
"I could reach you anywhere in this room, darling. Haha."
A cocky smirk. That's just how it is, being a robot.
On a more practical level, the Puca watches Elidibus get to work on arranging the room; for that, silence washes over him. In the meanwhile, he sinks closer against Emet-Selch's shoulder, protective and nearly guarding his Witch—from what, he wouldn't be able to say. It's instinctive, really.
Following the Emissary as he wanders about the room, Mettaton takes takes stock of his own body even as he's curled close to his Bonded. A body formerly coated in dried blood and matted fur, Mettaton's ears... barely twitch at the sight, a direction toward improvement finally attained. He smiles, too busy staring at himself to notice the second chair.
"That close, I could hold you." Mettaton giggles, leaning into peck Emet-Selch's cheek. To Elidibus: "How sweet of you, darling."
With a chair at Emet-Selch's side, Mettaton determinedly takes his lover's hand as though for stability. But Elidibus arrives to whisk him off for his assigned seat, and Mettaton's not about to deny the assistance to his feet. It's only with a small noise of complaint in his throat that he's made to loosen his grip on Emet-Selch's hand, though Mettaton finally rises, guided by Elidibus' help.
Given that Elidibus is fully capable of supporting the heavy robot, Mettaton sighs, batting his eye at him. "Oooh, so you can hold small hares and voluptuous robots... Most people can't handle this body."
A grin. Mettaton will cooperate, either guided or lifted to his bedside chair—where he'll settle and immediately take Emet-Selch's hand with an affected sigh of relief.
A cocky smirk. That's just how it is, being a robot.
On a more practical level, the Puca watches Elidibus get to work on arranging the room; for that, silence washes over him. In the meanwhile, he sinks closer against Emet-Selch's shoulder, protective and nearly guarding his Witch—from what, he wouldn't be able to say. It's instinctive, really.
Following the Emissary as he wanders about the room, Mettaton takes takes stock of his own body even as he's curled close to his Bonded. A body formerly coated in dried blood and matted fur, Mettaton's ears... barely twitch at the sight, a direction toward improvement finally attained. He smiles, too busy staring at himself to notice the second chair.
"That close, I could hold you." Mettaton giggles, leaning into peck Emet-Selch's cheek. To Elidibus: "How sweet of you, darling."
With a chair at Emet-Selch's side, Mettaton determinedly takes his lover's hand as though for stability. But Elidibus arrives to whisk him off for his assigned seat, and Mettaton's not about to deny the assistance to his feet. It's only with a small noise of complaint in his throat that he's made to loosen his grip on Emet-Selch's hand, though Mettaton finally rises, guided by Elidibus' help.
Given that Elidibus is fully capable of supporting the heavy robot, Mettaton sighs, batting his eye at him. "Oooh, so you can hold small hares and voluptuous robots... Most people can't handle this body."
A grin. Mettaton will cooperate, either guided or lifted to his bedside chair—where he'll settle and immediately take Emet-Selch's hand with an affected sigh of relief.
It's an interesting thought. Of all three Unsundered, Emet-Selch has been here the longest and would by rights be the most likely to be versed in the world's magic. But having to relearn magic in its entirety has made Irhya's reasoning in asking Elidibus contain a certain amount of common sense.
Even if it didn't there is a matter the Ascian is now interested in since the Warrior of Light has spoken about it. So the Emissary is going to indulge the moment. Approaching from the opposite side of the table- the side which Irhya pushed the saddle to- Elidibus brings a chair with him and sits down.
"Have a seat and show me this piece of jewelry. I cannot promise it is not beyond my ability but I will examine it nonetheless." But it won't be without cost. Elidibus moves the saddle to the side so there is enough space on the table between them. "In exchange, I wish you to tell me in detail why you do not trust the Coven."
Even if it didn't there is a matter the Ascian is now interested in since the Warrior of Light has spoken about it. So the Emissary is going to indulge the moment. Approaching from the opposite side of the table- the side which Irhya pushed the saddle to- Elidibus brings a chair with him and sits down.
"Have a seat and show me this piece of jewelry. I cannot promise it is not beyond my ability but I will examine it nonetheless." But it won't be without cost. Elidibus moves the saddle to the side so there is enough space on the table between them. "In exchange, I wish you to tell me in detail why you do not trust the Coven."
Moving her chair to the side of the table, perpendicular from him, Irhya offers him her hand and finds a spot on the floor to look at while she formulates her thoughts.
"You might've heard, but maybe about a year and a half ago, Dorchacht was basically a dystopia. Monsters were under a city-wide mind control spell to make them subservient, cruelty and abuse ran rampant, and any dissenting voices were taken by their Coven and used as materials. By which I mean, sedated and hooked up like batteries to power the wards over the city, slowly drained of their magic."
A pause. She grimaces. "That, of course, is all Dorchacht's former Coven, but there was another incident a few moons later in which several handfuls of people were captured and tortured by a family of anti-Mirrorbound nobles, who believed we were doing more harm to their city than good. They were caught, tried, and summarily executed, the lot of them... but it made me realize that there are more people out there that are afraid of us than not. And that Aefenglom's Coven is likely among them, considering they can't control the influx. So... I don't think the kindness they give us is unconditional."
Her fingers flex on her other hand, eventually finding a spot to grab her shirt sleeve on the arm she has extended to him. "In this case, perhaps it's just me being irrational, since I've yet to hear any conspiracy theories about our Coven. But I think it is true that they look out for their city first and foremost. If we ever became a burden to them... I don't want to find myself indebted."
"You might've heard, but maybe about a year and a half ago, Dorchacht was basically a dystopia. Monsters were under a city-wide mind control spell to make them subservient, cruelty and abuse ran rampant, and any dissenting voices were taken by their Coven and used as materials. By which I mean, sedated and hooked up like batteries to power the wards over the city, slowly drained of their magic."
A pause. She grimaces. "That, of course, is all Dorchacht's former Coven, but there was another incident a few moons later in which several handfuls of people were captured and tortured by a family of anti-Mirrorbound nobles, who believed we were doing more harm to their city than good. They were caught, tried, and summarily executed, the lot of them... but it made me realize that there are more people out there that are afraid of us than not. And that Aefenglom's Coven is likely among them, considering they can't control the influx. So... I don't think the kindness they give us is unconditional."
Her fingers flex on her other hand, eventually finding a spot to grab her shirt sleeve on the arm she has extended to him. "In this case, perhaps it's just me being irrational, since I've yet to hear any conspiracy theories about our Coven. But I think it is true that they look out for their city first and foremost. If we ever became a burden to them... I don't want to find myself indebted."
Surprise is not evident and Elidibus does nod. But there is no look of horror either as Irhya outlines an example of what happened to the Monsters of Dorchacht. "I have heard tales of such extreme methods." Taking her hand with one of his gloved ones, his eyes fall on the ring which is the source of the cursed enchantment. "And of the events against the tortured Mirrorbound." Though he does not specifically voice his opinion of the mortals who performed such actions, there is mild disdain in his tone.
The utterly typical repetition of what mortals will do to one another.
But the Emissary is not unaware of the dangers these risks currently are to him and his brethren. Hence his keen interest in the information Irhya can provide. And her mention of the Coven's altruism not being considered unconditional earns a glance. "Such matters should go without saying. No matter how civilly Mirrorbound are treated, the Coven and their ilk are our self-appointed wardens in this prison."
The hatred is real and a reminder the Ascian may go through the motions but is hardly to be expected to believe in the lie of 'acceptance'. He turns back to his study of the enchantments tied to the ring. His emotions return to their typical calm.
"Perhaps the Coven were once more generous to the newly arrived than what I experienced, but that matters little. The solution to your concern is simple. If you desire to not be in a position of debt to the Coven, then be certain you give payment. Money seems acceptable enough. Should the gratitude of the service lead to the belief you somehow owe more, then you have only yourself to blame."
Elidibus releases Irhya's hand. "I do not have the skill to undo this enchantment. In another half month's time... perhaps. Yet I expect you wish it to be taken care of sooner." Oddly, there's a bit of frustration in the soft sigh which follows.
"It's an inelegant solution, but I would be able to enchant another item of jewelry to resist the curse." The Emissary calmly regards the miqo'te vampire. "It will do nothing to relieve your current physical arousal and it will not be permanent. But it would allow you to find someone to remove the cursed ring without further influence from its effects to distract you."
The utterly typical repetition of what mortals will do to one another.
But the Emissary is not unaware of the dangers these risks currently are to him and his brethren. Hence his keen interest in the information Irhya can provide. And her mention of the Coven's altruism not being considered unconditional earns a glance. "Such matters should go without saying. No matter how civilly Mirrorbound are treated, the Coven and their ilk are our self-appointed wardens in this prison."
The hatred is real and a reminder the Ascian may go through the motions but is hardly to be expected to believe in the lie of 'acceptance'. He turns back to his study of the enchantments tied to the ring. His emotions return to their typical calm.
"Perhaps the Coven were once more generous to the newly arrived than what I experienced, but that matters little. The solution to your concern is simple. If you desire to not be in a position of debt to the Coven, then be certain you give payment. Money seems acceptable enough. Should the gratitude of the service lead to the belief you somehow owe more, then you have only yourself to blame."
Elidibus releases Irhya's hand. "I do not have the skill to undo this enchantment. In another half month's time... perhaps. Yet I expect you wish it to be taken care of sooner." Oddly, there's a bit of frustration in the soft sigh which follows.
"It's an inelegant solution, but I would be able to enchant another item of jewelry to resist the curse." The Emissary calmly regards the miqo'te vampire. "It will do nothing to relieve your current physical arousal and it will not be permanent. But it would allow you to find someone to remove the cursed ring without further influence from its effects to distract you."
"...It's better than nothing," she says finally, letting out a pent-up breath from the moment he suggests it. "I can probably find something to use for the purpose."
It'll just require her to swallow her pride and perhaps consult her fellow Mirrorbound for a more permanent fix. Irhya leans forward on her elbows, looking half-attentively somewhere in the vicinity of his hands. "Of course, I don't want to be indebted to you, either. What do you want in return?"
Unfortunate that he doesn't count the sex as the something in return, she thinks with dry sarcasm. Though he hasn't really offered a clear answer on that bit, either, come to think of it... But she holds her tongue for the time being out of caution.
It'll just require her to swallow her pride and perhaps consult her fellow Mirrorbound for a more permanent fix. Irhya leans forward on her elbows, looking half-attentively somewhere in the vicinity of his hands. "Of course, I don't want to be indebted to you, either. What do you want in return?"
Unfortunate that he doesn't count the sex as the something in return, she thinks with dry sarcasm. Though he hasn't really offered a clear answer on that bit, either, come to think of it... But she holds her tongue for the time being out of caution.
"Then a piece which has not been shaped or touched by magic would be best," Elidibus explains simply. More than a bit tedious, but this way what enchantment he places upon it will be at its most durable and 'cleanest'. "At the very least something which has not been enchanted previously should be sufficient."
Setting aside other issues, the Ascian would likely not engage in sex as payment, given that deal would conveniently handle the other problem Irhya previously stated a desire to take care of. Hardly a 'payment' when it is to the miqo'te's advantage. It is good that she holds her tongue.
The Emissary affords the Warrior of Light a faint half-smile. "I had no illusions that you would have enjoyed a debt to me." He had considered that an open-ended favor owed may have been gained had Irhya not paid attention to the lesson in his words about owing the Coven. But it seems he had more concrete payment in mind. Just in case there was some hope for her.
The saddle near him is tapped. "I remember the designs and sketches you created for this. I would have them all. That will be how you settle this debt." Whatever concepts, sketched designs, the imagined glimpse of Amaurot under a blue sky. Why he wants them is not easily read from his expression.
Setting aside other issues, the Ascian would likely not engage in sex as payment, given that deal would conveniently handle the other problem Irhya previously stated a desire to take care of. Hardly a 'payment' when it is to the miqo'te's advantage. It is good that she holds her tongue.
The Emissary affords the Warrior of Light a faint half-smile. "I had no illusions that you would have enjoyed a debt to me." He had considered that an open-ended favor owed may have been gained had Irhya not paid attention to the lesson in his words about owing the Coven. But it seems he had more concrete payment in mind. Just in case there was some hope for her.
The saddle near him is tapped. "I remember the designs and sketches you created for this. I would have them all. That will be how you settle this debt." Whatever concepts, sketched designs, the imagined glimpse of Amaurot under a blue sky. Why he wants them is not easily read from his expression.
She did say either or, she thinks as her expression fades. At this point, she'd probably need to pay him twice over to ask him to help with the incessant horny of right now. So, running a hand through her bangs and over her ears, she glances to the side, moving a few things around to uncover her sketches at the bottom of the pile.
"These?" Curious. She stops to wonder why for a brief moment, and her mind immediately jumps to the idea that he wants them as a reminder... for a city he quite possibly doesn't fully remember. It's the simplest explanation, anyway, knowing what she knows about him. Handing them off, she looks him over again, evaluating.
"I'll need to run upstairs to get the jewelry," she says. "But have fun with those, I suppose."
"These?" Curious. She stops to wonder why for a brief moment, and her mind immediately jumps to the idea that he wants them as a reminder... for a city he quite possibly doesn't fully remember. It's the simplest explanation, anyway, knowing what she knows about him. Handing them off, she looks him over again, evaluating.
"I'll need to run upstairs to get the jewelry," she says. "But have fun with those, I suppose."
"Yes, these." Elidibus breaks off his regard of Irhya. Ah, all the luck, huh? Of all the people who could have arrived today, it's one of those who have a more vested interest in ink and color drawings than physical sensuality. For whatever reason, though the Warrior of Light may well be close enough. The Ascian shows no sign of offering why he wants them. But it is with care his payment is treated, set in a place where wrinkles will not threaten them.
"I will await your return." If she had happened to look back before going upstairs, she might have seen Elidibus open his mouth again to say something else only to close it again and settle into thoughtful repose.
It's for the best, really. While pragmatic, it may not have been very tactful to point out he was willing to wait around if she needed to take a while to compose herself while gone. Or perhaps he realized it would be better not to seem as though he were goading the Warrior of Light unfairly.
"I will await your return." If she had happened to look back before going upstairs, she might have seen Elidibus open his mouth again to say something else only to close it again and settle into thoughtful repose.
It's for the best, really. While pragmatic, it may not have been very tactful to point out he was willing to wait around if she needed to take a while to compose herself while gone. Or perhaps he realized it would be better not to seem as though he were goading the Warrior of Light unfairly.
Perhaps thinking the same thing he's decided not to say out loud, Irhya makes sure to be quick about it, collecting an ordinary bracelet she supposes she can live with wearing for a while and coming back down the stairs with it. Unfortunate that it will probably also suppress the warming effect, she thinks, but such is the price she pays for the thought. She sighs, dropping heavily back into the chair across from him.
"Ugh... here. If you please."
Well, it was nice while it lasted. Her tail moves briskly, as if trying to work off the stress through just the movement alone.
"Ugh... here. If you please."
Well, it was nice while it lasted. Her tail moves briskly, as if trying to work off the stress through just the movement alone.
It's a response on Elidibus' part that receives an exhalation that contains a whisper of amusement. "A familiar use of resources, isn't it?" Whatever will this star had, whatever hand was guiding it- if indeed, there was any- certainly put their efforts in a strange, even wasteful direction. The energy bringing them here, denying them their true powers, changing them- it had to come from somewhere, it couldn't be free. Nothing was limitless, not even a god (and they would know, having created one). And yet, they were all made to 'fit in', for whatever purpose, to whatever end.
Not that it mattered, except as an abstract consideration. There was nothing they could do for it but live with it, made to adapt.
Grooming continues, as does the Emissary's form of disapproval at hearing anything there was to say about this recent demise. That there had been madness involved in how their deaths had unfolded... Emet-Selch would have a hard time denying it. But he offers no more in the way of either explanation or defense, only gazing quietly, tiredly back.
But finally there came a time of movement, something practical to think on rather than everything that had led to this particular situation. And so long as he remained in contact with his Bonded, his needs were- if not satisfied, indulged enough that there was little quarrel that Emet-Selch could make. It was perhaps a weakness to show this requirement at all, but- it was met and overmatched by the Ascian's lack of self-consciousness, and a perhaps overly developed amount of confidence; if Emet-Selch wanted to remain in contact with his fiancé, then he was not going to be shy about demonstrating it.
Apart from keeping an eye on proceedings, there's no protest on his part when Mettaton is collected off his side of the bed, and led to his duly-assigned seating. There's not quite a robot-shaped outline of flecks of blood and loose hairs where he had just been... but it's obvious that something unclean had been resting in that spot. Not that the Ascian's spot is likely to be much better, considering how closely they'd been resting.
Hand retaken, Emet-Selch squeezes it, if not terribly hard. "If only you were able to shift to your hare form, all this tiresome maneuvering would've been avoidable." A rabbit could've tucked himself into any number of places around him or on him, and just by virtue of being smaller, any mess he left behind would've been automatically less. But the magic for any of that had hardly had a chance to return; even their physical bodies could barely move as it was.
Emet-Selch couldn't say he looked forward to being shuffled off the bed himself- but then, he didn't particularly look forward to much of anything. Clean selves and clean sheets though... he supposed there was that. He would hold onto that most modest of hopes for the future.
Not that it mattered, except as an abstract consideration. There was nothing they could do for it but live with it, made to adapt.
Grooming continues, as does the Emissary's form of disapproval at hearing anything there was to say about this recent demise. That there had been madness involved in how their deaths had unfolded... Emet-Selch would have a hard time denying it. But he offers no more in the way of either explanation or defense, only gazing quietly, tiredly back.
But finally there came a time of movement, something practical to think on rather than everything that had led to this particular situation. And so long as he remained in contact with his Bonded, his needs were- if not satisfied, indulged enough that there was little quarrel that Emet-Selch could make. It was perhaps a weakness to show this requirement at all, but- it was met and overmatched by the Ascian's lack of self-consciousness, and a perhaps overly developed amount of confidence; if Emet-Selch wanted to remain in contact with his fiancé, then he was not going to be shy about demonstrating it.
Apart from keeping an eye on proceedings, there's no protest on his part when Mettaton is collected off his side of the bed, and led to his duly-assigned seating. There's not quite a robot-shaped outline of flecks of blood and loose hairs where he had just been... but it's obvious that something unclean had been resting in that spot. Not that the Ascian's spot is likely to be much better, considering how closely they'd been resting.
Hand retaken, Emet-Selch squeezes it, if not terribly hard. "If only you were able to shift to your hare form, all this tiresome maneuvering would've been avoidable." A rabbit could've tucked himself into any number of places around him or on him, and just by virtue of being smaller, any mess he left behind would've been automatically less. But the magic for any of that had hardly had a chance to return; even their physical bodies could barely move as it was.
Emet-Selch couldn't say he looked forward to being shuffled off the bed himself- but then, he didn't particularly look forward to much of anything. Clean selves and clean sheets though... he supposed there was that. He would hold onto that most modest of hopes for the future.
Whether this suppresses the warming effect will depend entirely on how intrinsically tied to the arousal curse it is. Elidibus will be putting his focus on an enchantment that counteracts the specific problem- to give more power and durability to the enchantment he's crafting in general. If the formula is 'warmth through arousal' instead of 'warmth with a hidden added curse to arouse the bearer', then the effect Irhya bought it for in the first place will be canceled out.
Upon her return downstairs, she will notice Elidibus has been preparing while he waited. It is simple enough. Where he has settled at the bench now has a handkerchief size piece of silk spread and he has removed his gloves. Direct contact with the object he wishes to impart magic into, the Ascian has discovered, produces better results for the time being. It would be best if his hands were bared for such detailed work.
Once the bracelet is handed to him, Elidibus nods. There is a moment wherein he regards Irhya quietly, taking note of her agitation. Well, it's to be expected really. Somberly he offers instruction. "I would ask you not interrupt until I am finished. This will require a certain level of concentration. Likewise, do not allow anything else to disturb my focus."
It is a bland instruction but it also imparts a certain sense of trust. Time is given for Irhya to respond before the bracelet is set in the middle of the silk cloth. Lifting a hand and spreading his fingers- as the Warrior of Light has no doubt seen the Ascian do as a habit of his spellcasting back home- the Emissary slowly lowers the palm of his hand to touch the circle.
Magic is called upon, focused, and shaped with words. Words that are spoken in the Ascian's ancient language in heart and mind but are twisted by this world's laws to emerge as Aefenglom's native tongue. Which is good in a sense. It means Irhya can listen in on the instructions he's imprinting. There won't be any tricks. Not that Elidibus had intended there to be any.
Some of the vocabulary and terms used may be on the complex side. But it is the nature of his intent and the way he has come to express spellcasting of this world. Until the day he has managed to reach a level of proficiency that does away with all the extra steps, much of his spellwork is an.... inadequate translation of the visual exercise of creation magic.
Upon her return downstairs, she will notice Elidibus has been preparing while he waited. It is simple enough. Where he has settled at the bench now has a handkerchief size piece of silk spread and he has removed his gloves. Direct contact with the object he wishes to impart magic into, the Ascian has discovered, produces better results for the time being. It would be best if his hands were bared for such detailed work.
Once the bracelet is handed to him, Elidibus nods. There is a moment wherein he regards Irhya quietly, taking note of her agitation. Well, it's to be expected really. Somberly he offers instruction. "I would ask you not interrupt until I am finished. This will require a certain level of concentration. Likewise, do not allow anything else to disturb my focus."
It is a bland instruction but it also imparts a certain sense of trust. Time is given for Irhya to respond before the bracelet is set in the middle of the silk cloth. Lifting a hand and spreading his fingers- as the Warrior of Light has no doubt seen the Ascian do as a habit of his spellcasting back home- the Emissary slowly lowers the palm of his hand to touch the circle.
Magic is called upon, focused, and shaped with words. Words that are spoken in the Ascian's ancient language in heart and mind but are twisted by this world's laws to emerge as Aefenglom's native tongue. Which is good in a sense. It means Irhya can listen in on the instructions he's imprinting. There won't be any tricks. Not that Elidibus had intended there to be any.
Some of the vocabulary and terms used may be on the complex side. But it is the nature of his intent and the way he has come to express spellcasting of this world. Until the day he has managed to reach a level of proficiency that does away with all the extra steps, much of his spellwork is an.... inadequate translation of the visual exercise of creation magic.
"Shouldn't be any problem." There's no one else in the house to disturb anything, after all, and even the one person who does visit only does so sparsely, so it's doubtful he'll have such poor timing. She stands up out of her seat with the pretense of watching for anything, but ends up with her attention glued to his work instead, curious to see the process.
There is a pang of something raw in her chest, though whether it's associated with the interminable desire the curse has her under or something a little different, it's difficult to say. Her eyes move as she listens to the enchantment, apparently able to track most of it mentally, just in case something sneaks in that doesn't align with their agreement. No such thing happens, however, so she relaxes after a while, letting her thoughts drift when the chant stops.
There is a pang of something raw in her chest, though whether it's associated with the interminable desire the curse has her under or something a little different, it's difficult to say. Her eyes move as she listens to the enchantment, apparently able to track most of it mentally, just in case something sneaks in that doesn't align with their agreement. No such thing happens, however, so she relaxes after a while, letting her thoughts drift when the chant stops.
Disapproval is such a harsh word for it. Call it for what it is. An alarm that shifts his ever-growing pile of data to conclude that this is of pressing concern and may need to take priority in finding out more. Whether it was the Bond or the Cwyld infection or a mix of both coupled with the machinations of the Evergreen Circle's brainwashing spellwork may remain unclear for now. Mostly because getting the two clean, bandages changed, bedding refreshed remains marginally more important.
"If you will indulge me for a moment between the trading of wit with Emet-Selch." Utterly. Deadpan. "Are you capable of self-diagnostics, Mettaton? I would be interested in any information you may be able to provide now of your rate of recovery." To be honest, Elidibus is a little interested personally given the hybrid combination of machine and mammal, but he's probably asking primarily for the practical aspects such an answer might resolve.
As a note yes, Elidibus would encourage any effort to walk whether supported or not. But he will for the sake of expediency bodily lift Mettaton in a princess carry if he had pretended any overcomplicated struggle. So perhaps the best of both worlds there, being both supported and carried by a dashing, heroic figure. Pity the Emissary's face shows how plainly disinterested he is in the puca inclusive of largely ignoring the weighted words about how well he handles the robot's body. But it should, perhaps, amuse the bedridden ascian.
Or more like distract. The next bit of time would probably be awkward for both Unsundered. It was one thing when Emet-Selch was unconscious and Mettaton sleeping but quite another matter all told when sensibilities are conscious for both to see and one to bear witness. What will be needed is prepared from the supplies. Fresh water, plenty of towels, bandages, and dressings. It will certainly be a process both in bathing and supporting Emet-Selch when held upright. And of course the whole matter of doing this while stripped of sheets and any fabric that may have been used to clothe the injured form before Mettaton had awakened and effectively shut down the healthcare.
Elidibus has steeled himself. This is just a host body to his mental bias. Mostly. He has firmly shut off the portion of the mind that wonders whether this is more due to the facts brought to light. He presses on because he must. But he's mostly silent and laser-focused on the task.
One might wonder where any change of bedding is come to think. Or how he plans to do that final step. Patience though, that's forthcoming after this awkward moment.
"If you will indulge me for a moment between the trading of wit with Emet-Selch." Utterly. Deadpan. "Are you capable of self-diagnostics, Mettaton? I would be interested in any information you may be able to provide now of your rate of recovery." To be honest, Elidibus is a little interested personally given the hybrid combination of machine and mammal, but he's probably asking primarily for the practical aspects such an answer might resolve.
As a note yes, Elidibus would encourage any effort to walk whether supported or not. But he will for the sake of expediency bodily lift Mettaton in a princess carry if he had pretended any overcomplicated struggle. So perhaps the best of both worlds there, being both supported and carried by a dashing, heroic figure. Pity the Emissary's face shows how plainly disinterested he is in the puca inclusive of largely ignoring the weighted words about how well he handles the robot's body. But it should, perhaps, amuse the bedridden ascian.
Or more like distract. The next bit of time would probably be awkward for both Unsundered. It was one thing when Emet-Selch was unconscious and Mettaton sleeping but quite another matter all told when sensibilities are conscious for both to see and one to bear witness. What will be needed is prepared from the supplies. Fresh water, plenty of towels, bandages, and dressings. It will certainly be a process both in bathing and supporting Emet-Selch when held upright. And of course the whole matter of doing this while stripped of sheets and any fabric that may have been used to clothe the injured form before Mettaton had awakened and effectively shut down the healthcare.
Elidibus has steeled himself. This is just a host body to his mental bias. Mostly. He has firmly shut off the portion of the mind that wonders whether this is more due to the facts brought to light. He presses on because he must. But he's mostly silent and laser-focused on the task.
One might wonder where any change of bedding is come to think. Or how he plans to do that final step. Patience though, that's forthcoming after this awkward moment.
It is all surprisingly straightforward. The method appears to play well into honesty. Though one must admit Elidibus can be considered famed for being honest while not telling the whole truth.
This time everything is in order. The enchantment on the bracelet will, for a limited time, be able to block further effects from the arousal aspect of the curse. The bit about getting the ring removed from the finger seems beyond his power. At least not without a very brutal and pragmatic (though probably messy) solution.
Irhya probably doesn't want to lose a finger though.
Slowly moving his hand back, the Warrior of Light's attention may be brought back to Elidibus as he takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. A trace of sweat on his brow suggests a certain difficulty of the exertion even if his expression does not otherwise show it.
Maybe there would have been more power available to him closer to the new moon. But it would not have been worth swapping out for the 'difficult to control' part. Or the wait.
"There. It should prove adequate. Please try it on now." Naturally, the Emissary will make certain it works. "Even if you feel no immediate difference, I will be able to ascertain its success."
He did, after all, mention it would not do away with current symptoms.
This time everything is in order. The enchantment on the bracelet will, for a limited time, be able to block further effects from the arousal aspect of the curse. The bit about getting the ring removed from the finger seems beyond his power. At least not without a very brutal and pragmatic (though probably messy) solution.
Irhya probably doesn't want to lose a finger though.
Slowly moving his hand back, the Warrior of Light's attention may be brought back to Elidibus as he takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. A trace of sweat on his brow suggests a certain difficulty of the exertion even if his expression does not otherwise show it.
Maybe there would have been more power available to him closer to the new moon. But it would not have been worth swapping out for the 'difficult to control' part. Or the wait.
"There. It should prove adequate. Please try it on now." Naturally, the Emissary will make certain it works. "Even if you feel no immediate difference, I will be able to ascertain its success."
He did, after all, mention it would not do away with current symptoms.
Of course he's going to want to be carried! Only if Elidibus showed some sign of dropping him would Mettaton have demonstrated his ability to amble along, or at least help. It's much more glamorous to be princess carried. He'd say he looks gorgeous in a dress.
"I hadn't even thought about shapeshifting," admits the Puca, gazing ceilingward. And though the thought of becoming a compact hare is now there for the consideration, he dismisses it just as easily. "Oh well. Elidibus here is perfectly capable of carrying me! There are no problems!"
He even princess carried him. Mettaton is pleased. He squeezes Emet-Selch's fingers, smiling smugly as though they didn't just spend the last few days dying and whatnot. Mettaton has a knack for glossing over the worst of issues in this way.
Mettaton stares at Elidibus wide-eyed as soon as the other Witch makes his request. Self-diagnostics... For some reason, he hadn't thought such words would escape Elidibus' mouth. It's always hard to gauge how technologically savvy someone is, and the phrasing suggests that he needs to play his role more carefully. It's perhaps a boon to the Puca that his ears are so damaged that they can't emote, for they might have risen in shock then folded back in unease if they could. But they do nothing, and his face is only wide and blank.
A canvas which he uses, morphing surprise into utter emptiness. Incredulity. Then, Mettaton puts forth his best robot impression, gaze vacant and voice tinny and monotonous.
"3... 2... 1... Self-diagnostics: complete." His brow knits, drawing his expression into one of ire that he points at Elidibus. Monotonous quality is lost as he continues, though it's still spoken through a synthesized, robotic filter. "My analysis suggests that your eyes are functioning just fine, sweetheart!! You can see my damage clear as day! Use them!!!"
He clutches onto Emet-Selch's hand with both of his own now, giving Elidibus a smile sharp as knives. His voice returns to normal: abnormally silky and very emphatic as ever, riding the waves of inflection to draw attention to his every word. And though he speaks sweetly, the challenging darkness of his expression doesn't depart, as though affronted that he'd ask him to perform (gasp) a robotic function.
"Or you can ask me how I'm doing. To which I'll reply: splendidly, now that I'm finally clean! Though I have a few repairs to endure, from both my creator and Emmy... I'll be bouncing back before you can count the letters of my name." Which, as anyone true fan would know, is as long as he would like for it to be. "Thank you for the concern, Lidi-darling."
"I hadn't even thought about shapeshifting," admits the Puca, gazing ceilingward. And though the thought of becoming a compact hare is now there for the consideration, he dismisses it just as easily. "Oh well. Elidibus here is perfectly capable of carrying me! There are no problems!"
He even princess carried him. Mettaton is pleased. He squeezes Emet-Selch's fingers, smiling smugly as though they didn't just spend the last few days dying and whatnot. Mettaton has a knack for glossing over the worst of issues in this way.
Mettaton stares at Elidibus wide-eyed as soon as the other Witch makes his request. Self-diagnostics... For some reason, he hadn't thought such words would escape Elidibus' mouth. It's always hard to gauge how technologically savvy someone is, and the phrasing suggests that he needs to play his role more carefully. It's perhaps a boon to the Puca that his ears are so damaged that they can't emote, for they might have risen in shock then folded back in unease if they could. But they do nothing, and his face is only wide and blank.
A canvas which he uses, morphing surprise into utter emptiness. Incredulity. Then, Mettaton puts forth his best robot impression, gaze vacant and voice tinny and monotonous.
"3... 2... 1... Self-diagnostics: complete." His brow knits, drawing his expression into one of ire that he points at Elidibus. Monotonous quality is lost as he continues, though it's still spoken through a synthesized, robotic filter. "My analysis suggests that your eyes are functioning just fine, sweetheart!! You can see my damage clear as day! Use them!!!"
He clutches onto Emet-Selch's hand with both of his own now, giving Elidibus a smile sharp as knives. His voice returns to normal: abnormally silky and very emphatic as ever, riding the waves of inflection to draw attention to his every word. And though he speaks sweetly, the challenging darkness of his expression doesn't depart, as though affronted that he'd ask him to perform (gasp) a robotic function.
"Or you can ask me how I'm doing. To which I'll reply: splendidly, now that I'm finally clean! Though I have a few repairs to endure, from both my creator and Emmy... I'll be bouncing back before you can count the letters of my name." Which, as anyone true fan would know, is as long as he would like for it to be. "Thank you for the concern, Lidi-darling."
Irhya lets go of a breath herself, having held it while he worked as if afraid the mere sound of her breathing would disturb him. It sounds loud and ungraceful to her in her own ears, after all. Turning, she collects the bracelet and clasps it onto her wrist with her other hand, tightening it a bit to make sure it doesn't fall off.
"So... does it work?" she asks, holding it up to look from different angles. "It almost looked like you had a hard time with it... though I've admittedly no concept of these things and their level of difficulty beyond what I knew back home."
"So... does it work?" she asks, holding it up to look from different angles. "It almost looked like you had a hard time with it... though I've admittedly no concept of these things and their level of difficulty beyond what I knew back home."
The host Elidibus took was rather strong, the Ascian had to admit to himself. As would be expected from both an adventurer and a former/current Warrior of Light. Emet-Selch knew he would have had a much harder time picking up the heavy robot at all, especially in the ever-dashing princess-carry position (he was normally the one being princess-carried).
The request for the robot to demonstrate a basic robot function- Emet-Selch could feel a bit of the puca's startle and unease through their recovering Bond, but he can't help but permit himself a brief, amused smile at how the ostensible machine chooses to respond. The offense at being asked to do something robotic... yes, this is about what he might have expected from him. He knew perfectly well Mettaton could do nothing of the sort. Even his battery life seemed to be something he only had a general sense of.
And technically, it did count as some sort of diagnostics check, only filtered through Mettaton's particular personality. Content with the solid grip on his hand, Emet-Selch glances back to Elidibus. "I told you he was alive. 'Tis more straightforward to treat with him as such."
Rather than treating the robot as a... robot.
Diversion as it all was, it only briefly distracted from the inevitability of more Washing. There was a bit of steeling to be done between them, he knew. Emet-Selch wasn't shy, nor modest, but he was ultimately more of a private sort, and what was more personal than one's body? Except, of course, this was just a host, no different than a bit of clothing, something fleshy to wrap around the soul. Any body would be viewed that way after so many years without, an object that was his but not him. So in that regard, why did it matter? Even if this was a bit of fabric that could no longer be readily removed and replaced with a fresher piece.
It was both more and less awkward for Elidibus to be the one performing the task. It wasn't as though Emet-Selch weren't already fully aware as to how many others had seen his body. It felt like half the hospital had been involved in his necromancy and healing, and subsequent efforts to both reach Mettaton and ensure that he was likewise resurrected. And why would that bother him, or even so much as register? Any thoughts those people might have (especially considering the amount of older, non-fatality-related markings his body possessed) never occurred to him, because he still didn't see the average mortal as much of a person. If pressed, he might hesitantly agree that they were alive, but it would also be clear that he didn't think of them that way.
Elidibus, though, was one of the very few of the city that he definitely considered as completely alive, a whole entire person (no matter the state of his memories) and someone who he knew besides. That part especially just made it awkward.
But his look, when gazing back upon the other Ascian, is something resolute (and with a touch- only a touch, as it was about all he could scrape up- of performative exasperation, as though this were all just a dreadful hassle, but one which he would stoically be made to endure). He was ready to be washed, handled, observed, and otherwise banded around in a too-small room while his fiancé also observed.
The request for the robot to demonstrate a basic robot function- Emet-Selch could feel a bit of the puca's startle and unease through their recovering Bond, but he can't help but permit himself a brief, amused smile at how the ostensible machine chooses to respond. The offense at being asked to do something robotic... yes, this is about what he might have expected from him. He knew perfectly well Mettaton could do nothing of the sort. Even his battery life seemed to be something he only had a general sense of.
And technically, it did count as some sort of diagnostics check, only filtered through Mettaton's particular personality. Content with the solid grip on his hand, Emet-Selch glances back to Elidibus. "I told you he was alive. 'Tis more straightforward to treat with him as such."
Rather than treating the robot as a... robot.
Diversion as it all was, it only briefly distracted from the inevitability of more Washing. There was a bit of steeling to be done between them, he knew. Emet-Selch wasn't shy, nor modest, but he was ultimately more of a private sort, and what was more personal than one's body? Except, of course, this was just a host, no different than a bit of clothing, something fleshy to wrap around the soul. Any body would be viewed that way after so many years without, an object that was his but not him. So in that regard, why did it matter? Even if this was a bit of fabric that could no longer be readily removed and replaced with a fresher piece.
It was both more and less awkward for Elidibus to be the one performing the task. It wasn't as though Emet-Selch weren't already fully aware as to how many others had seen his body. It felt like half the hospital had been involved in his necromancy and healing, and subsequent efforts to both reach Mettaton and ensure that he was likewise resurrected. And why would that bother him, or even so much as register? Any thoughts those people might have (especially considering the amount of older, non-fatality-related markings his body possessed) never occurred to him, because he still didn't see the average mortal as much of a person. If pressed, he might hesitantly agree that they were alive, but it would also be clear that he didn't think of them that way.
Elidibus, though, was one of the very few of the city that he definitely considered as completely alive, a whole entire person (no matter the state of his memories) and someone who he knew besides. That part especially just made it awkward.
But his look, when gazing back upon the other Ascian, is something resolute (and with a touch- only a touch, as it was about all he could scrape up- of performative exasperation, as though this were all just a dreadful hassle, but one which he would stoically be made to endure). He was ready to be washed, handled, observed, and otherwise banded around in a too-small room while his fiancé also observed.
It's also obvious that Elidibus has taken good care of the host body. Good diet, plenty of exercise, and practice at combat. The hyur frame definitely has muscle. Mettaton's frame was not any real trouble especially with such a short distance involved and a willing individual.
And Emet-Selch. Did it occur that your turn to be princess carried by Elidibus will be coming soon?
But first, the distress which a simple query created. Elidibus would need to be blind not to discern the unease despite the lack of real body language in the form of the puca's ears. The Emissary looks between both Mettaton and Emet-Selch. He's listening to the explanation and ire, as well as the defense his fellow Ascian raises for his Bonded's sake.
In response, Elidibus closes his eyes momentarily and his expression is very, very close to an exasperated equivalent of 'Zodiark give me strength.'
He will continue taking care of Emet-Selch because there is a lot to do between washing, cleaning wounds, and rebandaging. But very patiently he offers an explanation. "Yes, I am aware you are a creature with a soul. I trust Emet-Selch's judgment in this and, as it has been pointed out you would hardly be capable of Bonding were it not true. Regardless I apologize for any perceived insult." A glance is given Mettaton's way. Sincerity could be construed if only by the fact the apology is being honestly offered.
"My intention was not to treat you as an object but to determine whether you are capable of accurately calculating the amount of time it will take you to recover from your weakened state and any remaining injury. Given you have both recently returned from the dead and given Emet-Selch's own condition, I would not leave you both in the sole care of one another."
Briefly, he pauses his ministrations of the bedridden Ascian's form and turns to focus fully upon the puca with narrowed eyes. "And before you growl at me again, I would remind you that your desire to protect Emet-Selch and the collective capacity of judgment from both of you while one or the other are compromised has led you to the current state I found you in upon arrival." He glances back at Emet-Selch to include him in this statement. Then he turns around fully to go back to the washing task.
"I have no particular desire to interrupt your lifestyle but given these developments, I will be at least stopping by from time to time in the near future. How little or much that is will depend on how much thought you put into the words I have just spoken. I would like to think this latest incident has been a learning experience for the two of you."
There is a lot to take from Elidibus's small lecture. For one, pieces of it were directed at one, the other, or both depending on what he was addressing. And another, he was sincere when he mentioned he does not consider Mettaton an.... inanimate thing. But like Emet-Selch, how much of a soul the puca has is up for debate. The important part to take from this is as he did trust his brethren when it came to the claim that Mettaton was... well 'alive'.
Another matter suspect is how Elidibus is upset. Not the briefly frustrated moment of asking for patience from his God but honest distress and concern. For all his lecture had a great deal of sense involved it was also made in earnest. In the frame of mind both seem to have recently experienced and- to some extent- are still in, they seem to be their own worst enemies. And he's balking at the idea of leaving them both to their own devices until they're both fully healed.
This probably isn't doing much for the awkwardness of Ascian intimacy but at least both seem capable of communicating a certain level of resolute determination to the other. The Emissary's bedside manner has improved greatly ever since the last time he treated an injury on Emet-Selch but he seems to be going the extra mile to be gentle. So perhaps this too is a way to determine just how concerned Elidibus truly is under that calm mask.
After all, there was only a touch of magic used on Mettaton. Probably one of the largest pieces Elidibus has reserved for Emet-Selch, though eminently practical, is a flat barrier between the Ascian and the bed. It serves a dual purpose of keeping the body separated from gore-soaked sheets but with minor manipulation can aid in supporting the injured during upright moments. For Emet-Selch there's no suggestion to cut mats out of the tangled hair. Muttered words see it untangled and clean with a burst of magic. Certain bandaged cuts are left uncovered- the ones that are scratches and smaller bites - if these are there - but all of those will be given a blanket spell much as applied to Mettaton's ear. Some might heal completely others only slightly and those will have their gauze replaced. The most serious are treated with a strict regimen of both water and anti-septic and are certainly beyond the Witch's current abilities. But he does what he can. At least he's already aware of what caused the harm.
Once all is said and done on caring for Emet-Selch's body, there is a brief look of inquiry as if to give the Ascian a chance to determine how he'll be carried to the chair while Elidibus takes care of the bed. Or maybe it's an indirect apology since the Emissary will likely insist on doing so.
Why he had not simply used magic for everything involving the cleaning of bedding and person- because as he is about to prove he somewhere gained spellwork and expertise in such daily lifestyle magic- will become clear soon enough. His hand gesture is familiar enough. A hand and fingers outstretched. Though he still requires words; ones which spill out of his mouth in an energy-infused description of the task at hand. It could be likened a little to a program of sorts but to listen to it is to develop an accurate picture of the task performed. For his magic now is as though it sought to establish understanding between a perfect mental picture and the desire for the bedding to be cleansed of the contaminants down to the very bedframe.
It is a pity this world twists all spoken languages to sound like its common native tongue. In Elidibus's heart and mind, he uses the ancient language. Though effective as the gore disappears as though it were never there, there is still something lost in the recital.
And for magic, it seems to be nearing his limits. It is the latter half of the month and the new moon is long past. It's not as if he had expected to do this much today and his technique? Well, it's hardly the most efficient of things after a bare three months of learning. But it is done and at least he hasn't collapsed from the effort. Also, the room is clean, sans the pile of stained towels used to clean both Mettaton and Emet-Selch.
With any luck, they'll have saved their critique- both for his spellcasting and his lecture- until he had reached the end. But he can probably handle it even if neither do.
And Emet-Selch. Did it occur that your turn to be princess carried by Elidibus will be coming soon?
But first, the distress which a simple query created. Elidibus would need to be blind not to discern the unease despite the lack of real body language in the form of the puca's ears. The Emissary looks between both Mettaton and Emet-Selch. He's listening to the explanation and ire, as well as the defense his fellow Ascian raises for his Bonded's sake.
In response, Elidibus closes his eyes momentarily and his expression is very, very close to an exasperated equivalent of 'Zodiark give me strength.'
He will continue taking care of Emet-Selch because there is a lot to do between washing, cleaning wounds, and rebandaging. But very patiently he offers an explanation. "Yes, I am aware you are a creature with a soul. I trust Emet-Selch's judgment in this and, as it has been pointed out you would hardly be capable of Bonding were it not true. Regardless I apologize for any perceived insult." A glance is given Mettaton's way. Sincerity could be construed if only by the fact the apology is being honestly offered.
"My intention was not to treat you as an object but to determine whether you are capable of accurately calculating the amount of time it will take you to recover from your weakened state and any remaining injury. Given you have both recently returned from the dead and given Emet-Selch's own condition, I would not leave you both in the sole care of one another."
Briefly, he pauses his ministrations of the bedridden Ascian's form and turns to focus fully upon the puca with narrowed eyes. "And before you growl at me again, I would remind you that your desire to protect Emet-Selch and the collective capacity of judgment from both of you while one or the other are compromised has led you to the current state I found you in upon arrival." He glances back at Emet-Selch to include him in this statement. Then he turns around fully to go back to the washing task.
"I have no particular desire to interrupt your lifestyle but given these developments, I will be at least stopping by from time to time in the near future. How little or much that is will depend on how much thought you put into the words I have just spoken. I would like to think this latest incident has been a learning experience for the two of you."
There is a lot to take from Elidibus's small lecture. For one, pieces of it were directed at one, the other, or both depending on what he was addressing. And another, he was sincere when he mentioned he does not consider Mettaton an.... inanimate thing. But like Emet-Selch, how much of a soul the puca has is up for debate. The important part to take from this is as he did trust his brethren when it came to the claim that Mettaton was... well 'alive'.
Another matter suspect is how Elidibus is upset. Not the briefly frustrated moment of asking for patience from his God but honest distress and concern. For all his lecture had a great deal of sense involved it was also made in earnest. In the frame of mind both seem to have recently experienced and- to some extent- are still in, they seem to be their own worst enemies. And he's balking at the idea of leaving them both to their own devices until they're both fully healed.
This probably isn't doing much for the awkwardness of Ascian intimacy but at least both seem capable of communicating a certain level of resolute determination to the other. The Emissary's bedside manner has improved greatly ever since the last time he treated an injury on Emet-Selch but he seems to be going the extra mile to be gentle. So perhaps this too is a way to determine just how concerned Elidibus truly is under that calm mask.
After all, there was only a touch of magic used on Mettaton. Probably one of the largest pieces Elidibus has reserved for Emet-Selch, though eminently practical, is a flat barrier between the Ascian and the bed. It serves a dual purpose of keeping the body separated from gore-soaked sheets but with minor manipulation can aid in supporting the injured during upright moments. For Emet-Selch there's no suggestion to cut mats out of the tangled hair. Muttered words see it untangled and clean with a burst of magic. Certain bandaged cuts are left uncovered- the ones that are scratches and smaller bites - if these are there - but all of those will be given a blanket spell much as applied to Mettaton's ear. Some might heal completely others only slightly and those will have their gauze replaced. The most serious are treated with a strict regimen of both water and anti-septic and are certainly beyond the Witch's current abilities. But he does what he can. At least he's already aware of what caused the harm.
Once all is said and done on caring for Emet-Selch's body, there is a brief look of inquiry as if to give the Ascian a chance to determine how he'll be carried to the chair while Elidibus takes care of the bed. Or maybe it's an indirect apology since the Emissary will likely insist on doing so.
Why he had not simply used magic for everything involving the cleaning of bedding and person- because as he is about to prove he somewhere gained spellwork and expertise in such daily lifestyle magic- will become clear soon enough. His hand gesture is familiar enough. A hand and fingers outstretched. Though he still requires words; ones which spill out of his mouth in an energy-infused description of the task at hand. It could be likened a little to a program of sorts but to listen to it is to develop an accurate picture of the task performed. For his magic now is as though it sought to establish understanding between a perfect mental picture and the desire for the bedding to be cleansed of the contaminants down to the very bedframe.
It is a pity this world twists all spoken languages to sound like its common native tongue. In Elidibus's heart and mind, he uses the ancient language. Though effective as the gore disappears as though it were never there, there is still something lost in the recital.
And for magic, it seems to be nearing his limits. It is the latter half of the month and the new moon is long past. It's not as if he had expected to do this much today and his technique? Well, it's hardly the most efficient of things after a bare three months of learning. But it is done and at least he hasn't collapsed from the effort. Also, the room is clean, sans the pile of stained towels used to clean both Mettaton and Emet-Selch.
With any luck, they'll have saved their critique- both for his spellcasting and his lecture- until he had reached the end. But he can probably handle it even if neither do.
"Perhaps if you were to hold it still, I may better assess its effectiveness?" Elidibus requests somewhat dryly. But since she is likely to still the action at the reminder, the Ascian will be able to look it over and feel for the activation of the enchantment. He also avoids directly answering whether or not he had a hard time casting it.
"Hm. It appears to be holding. And both ring and bracelet are active," he says after a proper pause. "I designed the resistance to prevent the ring's influence on your body's physiological desire to mate. It should also block any further mental influence such as the lowering of inhibition which might accompany it."
Elidibus fixes his gaze steadily on the miqo'te. "There should be no further inclination to ask your sworn enemies to alleviate your symptoms simply because they are a convenient presence."
"Hm. It appears to be holding. And both ring and bracelet are active," he says after a proper pause. "I designed the resistance to prevent the ring's influence on your body's physiological desire to mate. It should also block any further mental influence such as the lowering of inhibition which might accompany it."
Elidibus fixes his gaze steadily on the miqo'te. "There should be no further inclination to ask your sworn enemies to alleviate your symptoms simply because they are a convenient presence."
"Ah, yes, straightforward as ever," she says with a shrug once he's done assessing, sounding a little like Emet-Selch in her theatrics. "I suppose it's a good thing I can count on you not to pull your punches, all things considered. At least I can make some headway on getting it off now."
For her current situation, though, she's not about to press. Probably not happening unless she were in some kind of mortal danger, or he were somehow indisposed -- which, given how cautious he is, seems even more unlikely. But at least she knows for the next time she goes to buy enchanted jewelry.
"So... thank you for that. Trouble though I'm sure it was for you, I'm grateful."
For her current situation, though, she's not about to press. Probably not happening unless she were in some kind of mortal danger, or he were somehow indisposed -- which, given how cautious he is, seems even more unlikely. But at least she knows for the next time she goes to buy enchanted jewelry.
"So... thank you for that. Trouble though I'm sure it was for you, I'm grateful."
Ah yes, that does give Elidibus a moment's pause, the resemblance to his fellow Ascian's mannerism.
"I would suggest you also avoid troubling Emet-Selch with the 'physical aspect'. I recognize you do not see him as the enemy he once was. Yet he is still recovering from recent events. I fear physical exertions may undo considerable progress."
Yes. Elidibus is as straightforward as ever. Though this last matter does seem to have been expressed with some real show of concern. Concern for Emet-Selch maybe, but concern nonetheless. Having had a moment to catch his breath, the man stands up and starts reaching for the saddle and sketches.
"While I acknowledge your gratitude, there is no need to express it. I merely performed a service and you paid in kind with these design concepts." Pragmatic too and perhaps a harkening back to their earlier conversation about not letting gratitude suggest Irhya owes him any more than he's already been paid.
It is also in his best interests to have her rational and not awkward in future encounters.
"As before I will fit the saddle. If you wish to stay inside I will only return if there is some adjusting to be considered."
"I would suggest you also avoid troubling Emet-Selch with the 'physical aspect'. I recognize you do not see him as the enemy he once was. Yet he is still recovering from recent events. I fear physical exertions may undo considerable progress."
Yes. Elidibus is as straightforward as ever. Though this last matter does seem to have been expressed with some real show of concern. Concern for Emet-Selch maybe, but concern nonetheless. Having had a moment to catch his breath, the man stands up and starts reaching for the saddle and sketches.
"While I acknowledge your gratitude, there is no need to express it. I merely performed a service and you paid in kind with these design concepts." Pragmatic too and perhaps a harkening back to their earlier conversation about not letting gratitude suggest Irhya owes him any more than he's already been paid.
It is also in his best interests to have her rational and not awkward in future encounters.
"As before I will fit the saddle. If you wish to stay inside I will only return if there is some adjusting to be considered."
"Bit late for that..." Irhya mutters, feeling a pang of annoyance as she averts her gaze, but puts up no further fuss at the request. It's not like she wasn't tortured at the same time he was killed. In fact, her tail and ears are still healing over from it, likely to remain bare patches for a while to come. But, well, maybe she can plead her case to Mettaton instead, if he's not having trouble with the exact same thing...
A sigh. "I'll come out, too. I could never turn down a chance to say hi to Filia." Maybe the cool air will help settle her mind, too, she thinks. Certainly, her calling him over has been productive, but she can't shake the slight unease from his request to lay off Emet. He could just be trying to drive a wedge between them using reason as his excuse... after all, it's likely that he and Lahabrea are still less than pleased about it. And maybe she is just being selfish, in the end, but...
A sigh. "I'll come out, too. I could never turn down a chance to say hi to Filia." Maybe the cool air will help settle her mind, too, she thinks. Certainly, her calling him over has been productive, but she can't shake the slight unease from his request to lay off Emet. He could just be trying to drive a wedge between them using reason as his excuse... after all, it's likely that he and Lahabrea are still less than pleased about it. And maybe she is just being selfish, in the end, but...
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