An investigation that was for the sake of information, rather than anything like concern: Emet-Selch expected no different. But there were the slightest signs of interest, of something other than neutral observation- curiosity, of a sort. Nothing like that earnest, youthful kind that Emet-Selch could recollect, even now, something that had been both genuine and unhidden. It wasn't as though it were a guarded emotion now, but instead so very faint, so very detached, that he couldn't decide whether it was better or worse to see it at all. It might've been easier to have there been nothing, nothing to remind him of what had used to be.
Of course, he says nothing on it; in addition to investigating, Elidibus was cleaning up his Bonded, which was the desired result. And he leaves Mettaton to comment on the transformation his body had undergone, on arriving to this star. While every monster had their form altered, were made to grow fur, feathers, scales- or some combination thereof- on top of skin, it was perhaps a change most apparently on someone who hadn't had skin to begin with. But the star had made do, the star had adapted, provided a network of something to feed the growth of fur, of living tissue.
The inevitable shortening of Elidibus' title- it gets a flicker of something like amusement. While he certainly didn't like his own title being turned into less of a mouthful, it was fine when it happened to someone else. He could tell Mettaton meant it affectionately, anyway (Even if he wondered a bit as to why; it wasn't as though the puca knew the other Ascian very well at all, he thought. But Mettaton was quick to take to people... he assumed it was something like that. Neither of them had yet worked out what memories had been displaced, what memories had been added.).
But that amusement dies at Elidibus' question- one that Emet-Selch had known would be coming, but which he was no more eager to address than he'd been to start. It distracts from the chill, or from anything other than this.
Mettaton's response to it- honest and direct as it was- has Emet-Selch sigh, low and soft. Well, there wasn't any other way to put it, really, and it was perhaps better to be blunt (not that Emet-Selch truly considered it an attack... to him, that implied something more aggressive than what had occurred, a deliberation towards harm, rather than hunger and instinct). That the pair of them remained together, with no discomfort apparent save for that of the physical persuasion- that they were, indeed, reluctant to part from one another at all- at least seemed to indicate that whatever had occurred wasn't something that had damaged their attachment to one another.
"We were both infected with the cwyld," is what he chooses to add, evenly, glancing from Elidibus' face to his hands upon the robot's body. To the body itself, and the damage to it. "With Mettaton also influenced by that cult. And in his madness, this was the result."
no subject
Of course, he says nothing on it; in addition to investigating, Elidibus was cleaning up his Bonded, which was the desired result. And he leaves Mettaton to comment on the transformation his body had undergone, on arriving to this star. While every monster had their form altered, were made to grow fur, feathers, scales- or some combination thereof- on top of skin, it was perhaps a change most apparently on someone who hadn't had skin to begin with. But the star had made do, the star had adapted, provided a network of something to feed the growth of fur, of living tissue.
The inevitable shortening of Elidibus' title- it gets a flicker of something like amusement. While he certainly didn't like his own title being turned into less of a mouthful, it was fine when it happened to someone else. He could tell Mettaton meant it affectionately, anyway (Even if he wondered a bit as to why; it wasn't as though the puca knew the other Ascian very well at all, he thought. But Mettaton was quick to take to people... he assumed it was something like that. Neither of them had yet worked out what memories had been displaced, what memories had been added.).
But that amusement dies at Elidibus' question- one that Emet-Selch had known would be coming, but which he was no more eager to address than he'd been to start. It distracts from the chill, or from anything other than this.
Mettaton's response to it- honest and direct as it was- has Emet-Selch sigh, low and soft. Well, there wasn't any other way to put it, really, and it was perhaps better to be blunt (not that Emet-Selch truly considered it an attack... to him, that implied something more aggressive than what had occurred, a deliberation towards harm, rather than hunger and instinct). That the pair of them remained together, with no discomfort apparent save for that of the physical persuasion- that they were, indeed, reluctant to part from one another at all- at least seemed to indicate that whatever had occurred wasn't something that had damaged their attachment to one another.
"We were both infected with the cwyld," is what he chooses to add, evenly, glancing from Elidibus' face to his hands upon the robot's body. To the body itself, and the damage to it. "With Mettaton also influenced by that cult. And in his madness, this was the result."