"Mm, I've not come across anything like him, no." Slightly dryly spoken, even if he is mostly referring to Mettaton's physical composition. "The world spared no effort in adapting him to a monster's life, even though it would have been far easier just to render him a witch and be done with it."
Inconveniences of monsterhood aside, Emet-Selch was glad that his companion was a monster- as he doubted they would've ever Bonded otherwise, the puca having been looking for a witch of particular requirements.
Elidibus' look of questioning towards him, as though inquiring whether this was typical Mettaton behavior- is met with a faint shrug against the bed, and a fainter quirk of lips. None of it seemed to strike him as at all unusual, and if the puca had taken it upon himself to view the other Ascian favorably, Emet-Selch wasn't about to dissuade him of it. His life in general would be much easier if his compatriots and his Bonded could all get on with one another, though he'd settle for anything greater than active animosity.
(If only they were all the Amaurotines they had once been. Then there would have been no question of them all getting along at least reasonably well. Amaurotine disapproval or dislike had never carried with it the risk of violence, at least.)
Leaving the pair of them to decide on the shearing of what was left of Mettaton's fur to facilitate cleaning, the Emissary's response to the culprit of their fatalities arrived. The stillness on Elidibus' part was telling, and while Emet-Selch doesn't tense at it, he watches closely at this version of his compatriot's anger. So controlled, so... unexpressed, but there. That there was an emotion at all to be felt- he supposed it could be taken as a good sign, though it had been a long time since he'd found any measure of hope in those flickers of sentiment. But that a version of fury was one of those things that yet survived in its way, rather than anything positive or kind... it didn't surprise him, but it did depress him that touch more.
Not that there's any sign of this, just an idle staring as he looks between his fiancé and his fellow unsundered. Calmed anger aside, Emet-Selch didn't think Elidibus would deliberately harm the puca, especially not right in front of him. That would require too much passion, and not enough rationality; it wasn't as though Mettaton had intended to kill him, and any attempt at vengeance would accomplish less than nothing.
Letting Mettaton explain that the complication had been mind control on the puca's part, rather than captivity, he sighs at the reminder of the experience of infection. Even though they'd both died technically of something other than that (hence the ability to have been revived), it wasn't as though the cwyld hadn't played its part. Been responsible, in its way, for this specific pattern of injury.
"You could say that, I was... well infected by the end of it. It felt pointless to have it cured before seeing my Bonded cured with me."
He would've just been reinfected. By the time it had progressed enough to warrant seeing it fixed anyway, Mettaton had been housebound, and the Ascian refused to leave him. And then Elidibus touches Mettaton's bitten ear, causing a sharp, clearly pained reaction, a flinch that has Emet-Selch tensing with the puca, as though to defend him somehow from it. Expression turning slightly drawn, he maintains a focus on his fiancé's face, even though he'd rather look aside. He didn't... entirely remember biting him. Not that hard, not enough to have actually removed a piece from his ear.
It's a dwelling interrupted by the sound of growling, Emet-Selch also only belatedly realizing that Elidibus had suggested that they part (briefly), for the sake of a cleaner bed, and his own response is to nudge closer, protectively, defensively. Considering the effort it had taken to get the two of them placed together and concurrently alive, it was reflex to want to see that maintained. But the rationale arrives some seconds later, along with the imagining of being able to rest on a clean bed, having also been cleaned off... it did appeal. They both valued that sort of thing, and it would probably help with feeling like things were getting back to some sort of normal, which didn't involve lying in a nest of old blood.
"...You could still reach me, couldn't you?" he asks Mettaton first, tone quiet. If he could keep his hand, perhaps... he would tolerate it.
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Inconveniences of monsterhood aside, Emet-Selch was glad that his companion was a monster- as he doubted they would've ever Bonded otherwise, the puca having been looking for a witch of particular requirements.
Elidibus' look of questioning towards him, as though inquiring whether this was typical Mettaton behavior- is met with a faint shrug against the bed, and a fainter quirk of lips. None of it seemed to strike him as at all unusual, and if the puca had taken it upon himself to view the other Ascian favorably, Emet-Selch wasn't about to dissuade him of it. His life in general would be much easier if his compatriots and his Bonded could all get on with one another, though he'd settle for anything greater than active animosity.
(If only they were all the Amaurotines they had once been. Then there would have been no question of them all getting along at least reasonably well. Amaurotine disapproval or dislike had never carried with it the risk of violence, at least.)
Leaving the pair of them to decide on the shearing of what was left of Mettaton's fur to facilitate cleaning, the Emissary's response to the culprit of their fatalities arrived. The stillness on Elidibus' part was telling, and while Emet-Selch doesn't tense at it, he watches closely at this version of his compatriot's anger. So controlled, so... unexpressed, but there. That there was an emotion at all to be felt- he supposed it could be taken as a good sign, though it had been a long time since he'd found any measure of hope in those flickers of sentiment. But that a version of fury was one of those things that yet survived in its way, rather than anything positive or kind... it didn't surprise him, but it did depress him that touch more.
Not that there's any sign of this, just an idle staring as he looks between his fiancé and his fellow unsundered. Calmed anger aside, Emet-Selch didn't think Elidibus would deliberately harm the puca, especially not right in front of him. That would require too much passion, and not enough rationality; it wasn't as though Mettaton had intended to kill him, and any attempt at vengeance would accomplish less than nothing.
Letting Mettaton explain that the complication had been mind control on the puca's part, rather than captivity, he sighs at the reminder of the experience of infection. Even though they'd both died technically of something other than that (hence the ability to have been revived), it wasn't as though the cwyld hadn't played its part. Been responsible, in its way, for this specific pattern of injury.
"You could say that, I was... well infected by the end of it. It felt pointless to have it cured before seeing my Bonded cured with me."
He would've just been reinfected. By the time it had progressed enough to warrant seeing it fixed anyway, Mettaton had been housebound, and the Ascian refused to leave him. And then Elidibus touches Mettaton's bitten ear, causing a sharp, clearly pained reaction, a flinch that has Emet-Selch tensing with the puca, as though to defend him somehow from it. Expression turning slightly drawn, he maintains a focus on his fiancé's face, even though he'd rather look aside. He didn't... entirely remember biting him. Not that hard, not enough to have actually removed a piece from his ear.
It's a dwelling interrupted by the sound of growling, Emet-Selch also only belatedly realizing that Elidibus had suggested that they part (briefly), for the sake of a cleaner bed, and his own response is to nudge closer, protectively, defensively. Considering the effort it had taken to get the two of them placed together and concurrently alive, it was reflex to want to see that maintained. But the rationale arrives some seconds later, along with the imagining of being able to rest on a clean bed, having also been cleaned off... it did appeal. They both valued that sort of thing, and it would probably help with feeling like things were getting back to some sort of normal, which didn't involve lying in a nest of old blood.
"...You could still reach me, couldn't you?" he asks Mettaton first, tone quiet. If he could keep his hand, perhaps... he would tolerate it.