VALENTINES CHARITY - Feoveuer 14th

[thejoyrider]

♥ THE FESTIVAL OF LOVE ♥

"At the Festival of Love: Shine like thunder
At the Festival of Love: Cry like rain
At the Festival of Love: Hear my calling
At the Festival of Love: Hear my name"

...wait, who prepared this poster? The vibe it gives off is totally wrong... ah, well, it will do! ♥





I. Welcome! ♥

On Feoveuer 14th regulars of DiplomaTea will immediately notice that the place looks different. Fresh flowers, garlands and paper decorations are everywhere, all in lovely shades of pink and red. Heart-shaped confetti is falling from the ceiling, magicked to disappear shortly after touching the floor so it would not make a mess. Quiet music is filling the whole cafe, one of the many masterpieces of Amadeus Mozart and a particual favorite of Marie who picked this particular song to play. Even those who have missed Marie's flyers and announcements about the upcoming event would definitely notice that something joyous is going on inside, why not check it out and join everyone?

If you haven't heard before, the posters will explain everything. Today's event, The Festival of Love celebrates the holiday known as Valentine's Day some Mirrorbound might be familiar with. This is the day to celebrate love in all shapes and forms. Spend a wonderful, romantic evening with your partner... or your friends and family, because these kinds of love are important too! Or get some sweets and eat them all by yourself, because self love is also important! All money collected during today's event will go to aid the refugees and help those who have been affected during last month - celebration of love for your fellow woman, man and everyone else.

a. Preparations ♥

Of course an event this big cannot happen without the help of many. Making and putting up the decorations, enchanting the confetti and music, building the booths, preparing the tables, all of this and much more took almost the whole previous day. Everett will also defintely need part-timers to help tending to the increased number of custoers during the event. If you visited DiplomaTea during that time, you probably couldn't enjoy your drink in peace... or maybe you were roped into helping? Marie gives you a pleading look. Every pair of hands is useful, you know!

II. The Festival of Love ♥

Kissing Booths ♥

Two hastily made but lovingly decorated wooden booths have been placed on DiplomaTea porch. For supporting the cause with a small fee of 100 cunes the person inside will gladly give you a lovely kiss... though you are, of course, welcome to throw an even bigger amount into the donation box! The Mirrorbound staff the booths in shifts so nobody will be forced to sit out the whole event and more volunteers are always welcome... come on, don't you want to support the charitable cause? Marie is quite persuasive, she might find a way to convince you even if it's not something you would have usually agreed to ♥ Or maybe your crush is currently in the booth and this is your big chance? Either way, thank you for your support, good people!

Bake Sale ♥

Are you skilled with the cooking appliances? Would you like these skills to serve a good cause? The tables just next to the main entrance of DiplomaTea have been filled with cakes, pastries and other kinds of sweets donated by Mirrorbound - help yourself to some! You have to pay for it, of course, but all the money collected helps the charitable cause! For those who are not fond of sweet things, savory and spicy snacks are also found on the table.

Did you bring a dish? Would you like to buy something? Or maybe you are just staffing the tables and helping with the bake sale itself? All kinds of help are appreciated! Are you culinarily challenged but refuse to admit it? Thank you for your donation anyway, it is going on sale! Did anyone see the Fae who donated these cupcakes? These appear to be enchanted and eating one will cause you to say the opposite what you mean for fifteen minutes. What do you mean, Marie, we are putting these on sale as well? Could it be... that Fae was... No, impossible!

Auction ♥

Want to support the cause with a bigger sum? As a part of the main event, a couple of items will be auctioned. To show their support, the Coven donated several valuables that could definitely be of use for both Witches and Monsters:

• an ornate golden ring Fae-blessed to provide the wearer 12 hours of invisibility (which does not have to be used consecutively, it's 'turned on and off' by rubbing the stone set into it, and does not conceal the wearer from other Fae)
• a suit set and a dress that will both transform magically to fit whatever Monster form the wearer has (and will also take on the wearer's color and design preferences)
• a book on imbuing baked goods with minor luck spells - good and bad both.

Place your bids now! But that's not everything that will be put on sale today - donations from Mirrorbound are also accepted and will be auctioned! Do you have any items you no longer need and could contribute? Maybe it's something you have crafted yourself? Or a voucher for any kind of services you can provide? Whatever it is, thank you for your donation! Yes, even if it's enchanted. Especially if it is enchanted!

Not donating or buying anything? You could certainly help with the organization part! That pile of items over there... Mind checking out what we even have there and assign starting bids?

A Word from our Sponsor ♥

DiplomaTea is offering a couple of special offers on this special day, all proceeds will be donated! Extra large mug of cinnamon cocoa you can share with a special person to warm up your bodies and hearts. You can also drink it yourself if you want to, nobody will judge you and certainly not Everett. However, even if you came here by yourself... Are you sure you can finish it by yourself? How about splitting the cocoa with someone who also came alone? That's the spirit of the day! 

For those interested in a drink that can provide more thrill than simple cocoa, Everett is offering a tea blend called Ardric's Warmth. In his own words, it tastes like a live firecracker and has enough caffeine to raise the dead. And yet, this blend seems to have its dedicated fans in Aefenglom, especially among Dragons. Dare to try it? Or maybe someone tricked you into drinking some?

Inkchanted Corner ♥

Caster Cú Chulainn is doing a promotion on behalf of his and Waver's tattoo shop, Inkchanted. Still undecided if you would like to visit their place? Unsure about a permanent tattoo? You can try it out here and help the cause! For a low fee you can have Caster draw a small, enchanted painting on your skin. It can make you give off a charming aura, perfect if you are still looking for someone to spend the evening with or trying to grab the attention of that particular person. Or maybe you are celebrating self love and just want a spell that will allow you to eat a lot of sweets without consequences tonight? Perfect! Another idea? Be sure to communicate it well, you would not want to end up with an enchanted painting that gives a different effect you originally wanted... though even if you do, the magic will only work for a few hours. You can wait that long, can you?

Magic Show ♥

Trucy Wright, one of the recent arrivals to Aefenglom is on stage and about to perform her splendid magic show! Huh, that's nothing special in Aefenglom, you might think. Magic is an everyday thing for every Witch after all. However, this young lady here is not a Witch, so how does she do it? With totally real magic, of course! Get your seats and pay close attention to everything she does, but you are not very likely to notice anything - this girl is a professional, after all. In using real magic, of course! Or maybe you have similar skills? You are welcome to join her on stage and perform your own well-practiced trick. If it's not as well-practiced as you thought... well, at least you made the audience laugh? In need of a charming assistant? Just pick someone more or less willing from the audience!

III. Cleanup ♥

Tired after a busy day? Congratulate yourself on a job well done, we managed to collect a nice sum that will certainly help a lot! But before you can rest in your bed, there's more to be done. Taking off decorations, removing the confetti enchantments, washing the dishes, collecting the trash and cleaning the whole place. We cannot leave Everett alone with this mess after he was so nice to allow the usage of DiplomaTea for today's event, can we? You can stay and help, can you? Maybe there are some leftowers from the bake sale to sweeten the deal?

Comments

[unsundered]

Well... we are at the center of every world-wrecking Calamity. For those that know of us... some caution is perhaps expected.

[His voice is lower than such information warrants, which probably had something to do with Mettaton's face pressed to his neck, the hand to his hair. It was... not bad, this, more intriguing than he would have expected, Mettaton's presence, even his voice both strangely more pleasant the closer he was pressed. Emet-Selch would've assumed the opposite to be true.

Arm slipping to tighten around him in turn, his lips brush along the length of the other man's neck. Without moving from it, he murmurs an answer against it.]

But I imagine that would be quite... frustrating. How fortunate that you can avoid such circumstance.

[Was this the manipulation of a Bond making such nearness tolerable, even somewhat desired? If so, Emet-Selch was- surprisingly fine with that. It wouldn't be the first time. His adoration for Zodiark wasn't necessarily by choice; an encouragement of closeness from a Bond was minor by comparison. And, well, as detached and cold as he wanted to seem, the Ascian was driven entirely by impulse and emotion; mixed with a lack of self-examination, he didn't always make the best decisions.]

[glitzandglamour]

[Mettaton bites his lip at the mere sensation of it all, slight as it is. He could be saying anything right now and it would elicit the same response, but it's a cocktail of feeling, undeniably powerful. It's the contact, his closeness, his voice, and the sensation he can feel. Much earlier, he'd regretted that he could feel at his neck at all when the Rathmores found fascination with it, but he decides that he'd live through that again if not to be rewarded with this. Sensation is, after all, entirely welcome, and the pleasurable makes up for the unwanted.

He shifts his weight not by any necessity, but to expend some of the pent up energy in his body; as he settles again, he's sure to press more urgently against Emet-Selch. He fancies the way they must look to an observer in the haunts of his mind, but that's about all he'll spare toward that: he's sincerely too enraptured to decide anything about what he's doing needs some dramatic alteration.]

Frustrating... But. I never truly knew, what fortune I was... missing out on.

[His voice is carried on a sigh, which is about the only way a sigh is ever authentic coming from him. He settles closer to Emet-Selch as he feels his grip about his waist tighten. The Puca places a kiss against his neck and moves up to his jaw to do the same, exposing more of his own neck in the process. His fingers curl affectionately in his hair. Even if he knows that a part of him will be perplexed/amused by this later, Mettaton's true to himself: the thrill of this and the odd intimacy he's found with the Ascian are enough of a reason to find this so delightful. There's nobody in the universe who has gained this kind of knowledge about him this quickly, and that's both terrifying and comforting.

...He'd love to know that there was any parallel going on between himself and Emet-Selch's god, even if it's about compulsion. He'd be flattered, and it'd be terrible.]

[unsundered]

[It's more a breath than a hum, but it's approving in either case, at the combination of touches. Tilting his head up a little, he mirrors the gesture, pressing lips to the line of the robot's jaw, and drifting upward to the corner of his mouth.]

How much of this is new...?

[Even with as intense as Mettaton generally was, in his way, this seemed more than that, or different. But if he'd only been able to touch objects as a ghost, had his metallic forms bypassed that difficulty, yet not included much in the way of sensation? To go from nothing to... something, if not everything, must be an experience, he imagined.

Not that he was exactly unmoved himself; if not quite matching that urgency, he certainly did nothing to discourage it either. There was an uptick in his pulse that he couldn't deny, and a degree of entirely pleasant warmth to match it. His other hand moves up, fingertips dragging along Mettaton's upper back, to scrape upwards along the back of his neck.

Perhaps a sharing of troubling backgrounds did encourage a degree of intimacy. Not even all those from his own star knew anything of the Ascian's history, and of those not from his world, only one other knew much of it. And that had been over the course of months, ideal vagaries giving way to more unfortunate truths. But he'd told much of his past on his third meeting with the puca. This was only their fourth; the trajectory here should probably alarm someone.

...They moved fast, it seemed.

And who knows, bizarre comparisons to Zodiark might eventually come up; Bonding and tempering did have their parallels....]

[glitzandglamour]

[At first, he barely seems to acknowledge that he's been asked a question, drunk as he is on sensation. For everything Emet-Selch does, Mettaton appreciates it then demands something more, as in the case of moving so close to his lips. He responds by stealing up an eager kiss, this one not as long as his first, but still just as charged. Though, his tongue flicks out to test Emet-Selch's lower lip before he pulls back, just in time to shudder at the harsher sensation of the Ascian's fingertips against his upper back. He's barely able to hold back a noise of pleasure; he reflexively bows his head forward, as though trying to give his fingers yet more area to wander as he smiles. In doing so, he maintains closeness with Emet-Selch's face.

Finding himself at this point at all required a pure emotional connection with his body, and that happened only during his grand finale. Sensation finally happened, then, though he was stricken only once as his introduction to sensation. He meets Emet-Selch's eye with his, though his gaze is unfocused, its sharpness turned wanting.]

All of it.

[His hand idly travels down to Emet-Selch's neck, having warmed significantly from all of this direct contact. His other hand remains fisted in his clothes.]

The first time I felt. Much of anything... was the same day I showed up here. But this...

[He couldn't get close enough, he thinks. The longer he stays in Geardagas, the more he feels; and the more the month wanes on, the less it's framed by constant pain. He'd take pain over nothing, but this is divine. He's decided he prefers this significantly, though there's hardly a contest.]

[unsundered]

[When the kiss came, it was not unexpected, but no less for it. And it's without hesitation that Emet-Selch presses into it for as long as it lasts, even making a slightly annoyed sound when it ends sooner than he would have preferred. But the touch of tongue distracts him, as does the response he'd elicited from the scratch of his fingers. It was a bit gratifying, for some reason, to watch him like this.

Much like he'd been surprised that Mettaton hadn't formed a Bond before, Emet-Selch was surprised to find that he seemingly hadn't experimented with sensation like this before either. Though with what bit more he knew of him now... it was perhaps not entirely unusual, after all.

...Ah, right, words.]

Then I suppose there's much to catch up on.

[And he wasn't unamenable, for reasons Emet-Selch didn't care much to examine. Mettaton was interesting, and the touch of his hands were nice, especially once warmed; there were worse situations to be in.

However, they were still in public, and there were limits, even for an Ascian. It doesn't keep him from closing that small distance between their mouths once more, this time with his own tongue flicking out, to brush along the other man's lips. And slip between them, if permitted to. The hand at the back of the robot's neck drags itself up to bury itself roughly in his hair instead, as though discouraging any attempt to pull away from him.]

[glitzandglamour]

Ah...

[If he was feeling sensory overload before, this is well past that. But he welcomes every bit of it, his fingers gripping against Emet-Selch's neck. Though there's no longer any worry for overheating with his repairs and developments, within his metal chassis is intensifying heat, and his mouth's just a hint of that heat. Mettaton reciprocates ardently: of all things, he's developed a sense for temperature with his taste, so this is more than a welcome surprise. From the deep kiss to his fingers boldly woven into his hair, entrapping him, Mettaton finds that it's more sensory input than his mind knows what to do with. But being drowned in what Emet-Selch has to offer is exhilarating. He wouldn't pull away even if he had the chance, but this somehow makes it better. He feels deep satisfaction from this, and it exudes from him.

The TV star isn't a fan of losing his composure, as a general rule. But this is one of those moments where he can't help but allow it. If Emet-Selch is going to lock him into this, he'll pull him in closer, holding him firm into the kiss right back with that hand against his neck. He's not the one who needs to breathe, but he is the one who is already pushed over the edge, here in public.

What a thing to say, too. Mettaton decides that it had better be an offer. That might be what gets to him the most.

And for Emet-Selch's reference: he tastes... weird. A mix of something chemically/ethereal, neutral enough for it not to bother Mettaton, but not normal. He has his Monster changes to blame for all odd deviations from being a machine.]

[unsundered]

[Being held in place in turn was welcomed, even wanted, as his hands clutch at the idol with no little pressure. Emet-Selch could guess that this sort of reaction from Mettaton was unusual- or at least, it was unlike what he'd seen of him before. Intensity and satisfaction; was he simply witnessing it, feeling it, absorbing it from the Bond? He couldn't tell.

But it fed into the Ascian's desire for closeness; even transitory, even artificial, it was better than being alone--

He'd had no expectations for taste, except, perhaps, 'unusual.' Which seemed to come true. It wasn't unpleasant, only unfamiliar, different. Unique in a way that wasn't troublesome. He'd have a hard time qualifying it, afterward.

Unfortunately, though, Emet-Selch did need to come up for air occasionally. One of the flaws of mortal form. But even when he breaks the kiss off, he doesn't try to pull back from damp lips, his breathing sharp against them. His fingers twitch against Mettaton's scalp, feeling the smallest bit off-balance. Perhaps he should breathe more often. That was probably it.

And he can't quite manage to say anything more just yet, still taking it all in. There was more than expected, more than he'd anticipated. His grip on Mettaton's hair loosens, turning into a slower stroking of it. The background hum of their surroundings was an annoyance, a nuisance of a reminder of where they were. Because his words had been an offer.]

[glitzandglamour]

[Mettaton keeps his eye closed for moments longer, appreciating the sounds and sensations where he's otherwise reached capacity for them. The best of all is the sound of Emet-Selch's breathing, hard and close. How he wants to kiss him more and more until he's gasping for whatever he can get, and when he opens his eye, he looks at him with pure lust, unfocused all but for Emet-Selch.

This isn't what Mettaton had expected out of this encounter, either. But what did he expect? How could he have expected anything, when he didn't know his own desire and he's only just beginning to see how receptive and even wanting Emet-Selch is for this in turn? Because every time the Ascian returns his affections and every time he exacts them for himself, he feels the haunts of something vast, though the robot can't place what it is in words. It's not as though this side of him blindsides Mettaton — from all of his previous understanding of him, it makes surprising sense that he'd be this receptive. It's akin to longing.

For all of his carnal want, he absolutely can't fulfill that here. It's very hard to tell himself no, and he won't be able to do it for long at this rate. But he smiles at him. The look in his gaze hasn't gone away, but there's a warm fondness there now. His voice is still soft and smooth, placing focus on the way he strokes his hair. He's collected enough to manage words, at least.]

H... Ha. What a tease you've proven to be... Bringing me well beyond my senses. What am I to do...

[A tease, if not because of their circumstances, which... Mettaton initiated. But he's dumping his insatiable desire into Emet-Selch's lap. Truly unable to curb his appetite even with the distraction of hair petting, Mettaton hums as he closes his eye and deliberately readjusts his body against Emet-Selch's, settling against him firmly.]

[unsundered]

[His eyes eventually open again to regard him, and it makes his breath catch again from being looked at like that. Not that it was exactly a surprise at this point, but it was another thing to directly witness. The later fondness was something he less knew what to deal with, and decides to just ignore.

But there was nothing about this that the Ascian had anticipated- which was becoming par for the course in his dealings with the robot. Oh, Mettaton was flirtatious, suggestive- but he seemed to be that way with everyone. A personality trait (or flaw). He hadn't expected there to be any... follow-through.

Mettaton's words pull a vaguely amused sound from his throat, low and still a touch breathless.]

Have patience, unfortunately.... Perhaps another time, another... place.

[There's disapproval in his last word, and his gaze, when it flickers briefly towards their surroundings, is scornful. As though he blamed the world for being where it was. Which he did. Being unreasonable had never stopped Emet-Selch from his opinions before.

...He really should pull back, the continued contact would turn from pleasant to frustrating soon enough. And his hold on Mettaton does relax a bit, though he doesn't yet move away. That quiet petting of the idol's hair continues, and if it weren't for the degree of tension in his body, it would all be quite comfortable..]

[glitzandglamour]

[Emet-Selch's regard for the little event now that it's proven to be even more of an inconvenience brings a smile to Mettaton's face and the hint of a snicker, even if the reminder of it hardly does to quell his appetite for more of him. If anyone's well in frustrated territory, it's him, and there's no coming back from it and nothing that can be done. He would need to have patience. He knew that. But the mere mention of another time or place is like electricity, and he can't help needing to close his eyes just to deal with the desire he feels. Why is it this hard to resist?]

Such... a shame. But to hear you offer such a thing... I can hardly take it. The thought of waiting.

[He'll follow suit, and pull away gradually. It's all he can do. His hand against Emet-Selch's neck moves down, until both of his hands rest at each of his shoulder blades, though even still his fingertips prod into him sensuously. Focusing on the feeling of the other man's hand against his hair is helpful, pleasant contact that feels reassuring and loving.

There's palpable reluctance, and even as he attempts to wind this down, he slips up: their proximity is too tantalizing, causing him to go in for another kiss. And as long as Emet-Selch doesn't break it, it won't be as feverish as their last, but it's firm, conveying only some of the longing the cyborg has for his Bondmate. And that "some" is a lot. He can't get enough, even when he tries to make himself stop.]

[unsundered]

[It wasn't as though Emet-Selch couldn't be patient. His life, for a very long time, had been nothing but the demonstration of patience. That didn't mean that he enjoyed it, and particularly with things like this, when what he wanted was right before him, was eminently attainable--

How very vexing.

But just as he was starting to resign himself to frustration, to begin the arduous journey of calming himself back down from all this attention, Mettaton has to go and kiss him again.

A more startled sound escapes him, stifled by the other's lips; caught off-guard, there's more of an open sense of need to it, that he would otherwise keep restrained. And underneath it all, a yearning for something unattainable in truth, yet longed for all the same.

But he answers the kiss without hesitation, continues it for longer than was probably safe, before finally wrenching himself free from the contact, breathing fast. Letting go entirely, he takes a step back; the sudden lack of contact almost painful, but necessary. What a terrible thing necessity was. Looking to Mettaton, his expression is unguarded for a moment- and showing something strangely akin to grief, of all things- before it's quickly masked by irritation, the common frown. His eyes close, willing his pulse to calm, to little effect.]

Honestly... 'tis cruel to tease like that.

[glitzandglamour]

[He can't think all over again. With Mettaton's own sense of desire compounded with Emet-Selch's need, this would surely have been the point where Mettaton couldn't stop himself... If the Ascian hadn't forced their contact to an abrupt halt.

There's need, yearning, surprise, and... grief. Emet-Selch feels so much, and it's affective in how it makes Mettaton soften. In return, he can only press his fingertips together in the wake of the body he's lost, biting his lip and restraining himself from being anything but socially acceptable. He's forced to smooth himself over, though it takes a shudder and the physical separation of them, apparently. That was a lot, and it continues to be a lot. Embarrassing, how little he's able to reign himself in. He smiles, once more fond, though he can't quite rid himself of desire.]

Forgive me, darling. Will you? You're... [On a sigh,] more difficult to give up than I anticipated.

[Having him pulled from his arms feels empty, oddly, and he feels off-kilter after having had somebody flush to his body for a good spell. He wants him back, even when he knows this is for the best.

Mettaton leans half-way against the booth, clearly trying to pull himself together.]

[unsundered]

[And it remained an absurd temptation to just... go to him again. He wouldn't be rejected; the Ascian was fairly certain of that. There was very little left that mattered to him, and social acceptability in this world did not number among it. There was impulse and distraction, there was the way Mettaton was looking right now, and--

But no. Self-control it was, and he sighs. It was a small booth, but he'd make the best of what little separation it afforded them. Was it actually cold, or did it just feel that way, now that they were no longer pressed together? Emet-Selch shivered nonetheless. His thoughts were a bit scattered.]

I suppose I must. T'would be unfair of me otherwise.

[Because whatever the hell had just happened, it seemed to be mutual. They both needed a moment. Probably several moments.

It was difficult to even look on Mettaton directly, and he settles for glancing sideways at him, with his good eye. It was hard to know what to say after all that, and he shakes his head, making an amused sound that was almost noiseless, tinged with exasperation. Mostly towards himself.]

--Well. I'm sure we'll find each other again, soon enough.

[glitzandglamour]

We will. I couldn't stay away from you.

[He knows where he lives. That's never a threatening thought to have.

Even though the same is true for Mettaton, that looking at Emet-Selch only serves to worsen matters, Mettaton does so unabashed. Anybody looking at him would easily pin him as covetous.

And yet, for as much as he doesn't want to do anything but figure out what deeper depths they could achieve, Mettaton has to. So the Puca exits and rounds the booth (though it takes significant willpower to do so and act normal) and shows up on the other side, as if to signify that he's back to whatever surface qualities he plays the part of. It makes it easier for him to part with Emet-Selch at all.]

By the way! I was thinking. With your eye in that condition...

[Mettaton pushes his bangs out of the way, displaying a non-functional eye of his own that appears like a white lens against the skeleton of his face, incomplete for some reason or another. He lets his dark hair fall back into place, a smirk tugging at his lips.]

You should style your hair like mine!! It's not as though you'd be missing anything. What an opportunity... To look even more gorgeous, just like me! I do have very nice hair, I know...

[amazing... Is Mettaton being sincere? Would he prefer Emet-Selch with his own hairstyle? Who... knows...]

[unsundered]

[It was probably good that the Ascian wasn't the type to worry overmuch, or else Mettaton knowing where he lived would be an ever-present, ever looming shadow over his household and its relative serenity.

With the booth's space that bit less crowded, Emet-Selch sits heavily back down in his long-neglected chair. Even with leaning on Mettaton as he had been, his leg had still been tested moreso than in some time. And while he hadn't noticed it much in the heat of the moment... now it was deciding to remind him of his carelessness.

But well. Commentary like that brings back the old, familiar annoyance at Mettaton's presence, which under the circumstances, was practically welcome.]

I feel no need to hide it.

[A small, dismissive wave, though he's curious about that non-functioning eye. If his body's creator was here, why hadn't she completed it? A lack of materials? Emet-Selch assumed it wasn't a deliberate aesthetic choice, considering how Mettaton hid the thing....]

Besides, I don't think it would suit me.

[glitzandglamour]

[He'll realize the first time Mettaton breaks down a wall or fails to use a door correctly.]

Haha. Don't be daunted out of trying my look, just because I pull it off with such polish... You might be surprised. And it's not hiding anything if it's sexy!

[He almost reaches for Emet-Selch's face, hoping to run his hand through the white stripe of bang, but he freezes. That's a rabbit hole he wants to take a dive into, but he knows he's just going to end up trying to kiss him again if he does. He envisions it completely: he starts at his hairline, traces his finger down to his temple, then down his jaw, and... That's too much of a slippery slope for him right now. His reluctance is transparent, but he regrettably withdraws his hand.

He shakes his head and gives his that hand some other purpose by flipping his hair in the back.]

Anyway. I hope you're... Enjoying yourself more than you expected. You'll be relieved soon enough... At least, of your duty. But not of me.

[unsundered]

[Please don't destroy his house, Mettaton... even the Ascian knows how to use doors sometimes, instead of just teleporting from room to room like someone indifferent to the concept of (other people's) privacy.

Though he's about to protest that being daunted has nothing to do with anything, but then it looked like Mettaton was about to touch him again, and Emet-Selch stills. He only relaxes once it seems no contact is forthcoming, though he can't deny the twinge of disappointment, and it probably shows.

But it was for the best. He was only just starting to settle again, anything more would just frustrate him to no good end. Patience could only go so far.

Shrugging faintly, it's some forced display of detachment.]

I'll look forward to it being over. As... interesting as parts have been, the rest is quite dull.

[He hums at the last, low and quiet.]

But no... I suppose we're stuck with one another for the foreseeable future.

[glitzandglamour]

[Look at that, the word "sometimes..." So he can't criticize him for old habits! Except for the part where he can, because one results in discomfort, and the other results in property damage. All criticism is deserved.

Mettaton gives him a warm smile — not the note he was expecting to end this encounter on, but he hardly knows what he ever expects out of Emet-Selch. Looks of annoyance are getting easy to predict because most all of Mettaton warrants them, and he's already endeared even to that. But getting this close to him yields a terrible many surprises.

He waves at him with a cheery bounce.]

Oh, yes! We are. As far as I'm concerned, that future is vast... And I look forward to making good on that offer!! Until next time!

[He's quick to dart off. ...For as cheerful as he appears, he hates placing any further distance between himself and his Bondmate, though. It's in direct conflict with what he really wants. That much is obvious.]