middaeg | All That Glitters (Open)

Entry tags:

undertale: mettaton

All That Glitters (Open)

Who: Lahabrea, open
When: 6thish of Feoveuer
Where: Various Jewelry Shops
What: Acquiring some cursed sparklies!
Warnings: Contains sexy cursed sparklies. If someone puts one on who knows what might happen. General warnings for Lahabrea being a constant raging jerk.

It is the first time Lahabrea has ever gone out in public since arriving in anything but all concealing robes and crimson mask. He has been informed that doing so makes him stand out considerably more than he otherwise would, which he still begged to differ given he was brilliantly scarlet and gold in the dead of winter and was going to stand out no matter what he did. But he'd decided to allow it for ONE venture out, replacing comfortable black robes with ... equally black pants and a rather ruffly black shirt, brightly colored plumage ruffled up against the wind and snow, and gone shopping.

Which is where he can be found right now, in fact. He'd heard rumor of good prices to be had of some fairly expensive jewelry, and it surely wouldn't do any harm to increase his small hoard any.

The only problem is he's having trouble finding anything he feels is exquisite enough.

At one such pop-up ramshackle shop in the entertainment district, the half-changed dragon picks silently and deliberately through the offerings of jewels and finely wrought silver and gold, expression fixed in a scowl. He's slow about it, examining this one or that one, occasionally placing it against crimson feathers to see how it looks before setting it back down, tail a slow steady sweep behind him. Although he hasn't finished his changes yet, the ascian turned dragon certainly looks very nearly so - the only thing that would be needed to complete the image is a pair of wings, but the rest is there, from horns to fangs, to curved ivory claws delicately laced in amongst the treasure in offering.

The shopkeep doesn't seem very pleased by his silent scrutiny. No .. maybe extremely nervous is a better suggestion, by the beads of sweat dotting his brow as Lahabrea examines his wares with excruciating care.

All of the jewelry in offering certainly looks amazing! It flashes in the light, it glitters temptingly, it looks to be of artisanal craftsmanship, and the prices are absolutely phenomenal! What else could be asked for? Except maybe that all of it wouldn't be cursed, but Lahabrea's oblivious to that particular ominous looming threat.

Very slowly, a chain of braided black, silver and sapphire stones is held up. Examined carefully under the shop's less than amazing lights, and the dragon finally speaks, his voice a dry, unpleasant rasp.

"Do you have this in garnet and gold..?"

... Well, if it's good enough for a dragon..

[OOC: Will match format!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's been some time since the two were able to speak, but Light recognizes Lahabrea in spite of the change in wardrobe. It's not a surprise to see the shift considering how beneficial it is not to stand out too much, but it's not been entirely easy to predict someone of Lahabrea's temperant. He's a smart man, but also prideful and seemingly willing to stand apart in order to maintain that pride.

A dragon. It's fitting.

"So that's how you look beneath your mask."

A pleasant voice calls from the side as Light approaches.

"It's been a while. Did I catch you in the middle of shopping?"

If Lahabrea hadn't spoken up to ask the apprehensive shopkeeper a question, there wouldn't have been anything at all to recognize him by, and perhaps Light would have passed on by, unremarked and unseen. After all, he and Light haven't crossed paths since he'd begun changing, and those robes and gloves and boots and mask hid everything from sight. As it was meant to. But for all that everything else had changed, including his height (which is now considerably more than Light's current height by well over a foot and a half) his voice remains the same, a still not entirely pleasant dry rasp. It's identifiable, easily.

Musical tones belonged to other breeds of monster, like harpies.

"Tis considered rude to my people to remark upon another's appearance," is the short, curt answer - he's out like this, but he isn't thrilled to be. It felt much like walking around completely naked; who cares if everyone else was doing the same, it was vulgar and unwelcome to have to.

But he did say he'd try, with no promises to the safety and health of others should something go awry.

Light, being a witch and not a monster, doesn't look terribly different. Or sound it for that matter. "...Of a sort," he grudgingly allows. "There are a small number of shops that have sprung up with some interesting things in them."

Even if Lahabrea's tone had bothered him before, Light would have gotten used to it by now, and he was never too offended. The man isn't someone who seems particularly inclined to make friends or be nice.

Moving past the 'rude' comment, he stops a bit of distance away but close enough to see what Lahabrea might consider interesting.

"A necklace?"

Has he always enjoyed jewelry, or is that a dragon trait?

"I didn't mean to interrupt the sell."

Edited 2021-02-09 22:05 (UTC)

There was indeed a very good reason Lahabrea lived a very solitary life. Friendships, or even politeness on most occasions, were beyond him. There were at best levels of tolerance.

Light qualified for that much. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have bothered to go out of his way to find a pepper spray in this technologically backwards city for the youth. He remembered the effort. Had it even been used yet? What circumstances would lead it to being useful? It kept him from thinking too much about the humiliating state of his clothing.

All these kidnappings recently, perhaps. "Among other things. Rings and charms and bracelets, earrings and the like. If one appreciates glittering things, or knows someone who might.." Well, they were worth looking at! "A sale depends on if the proper colors exist. This isn't terrible, but not what I am looking for."

Unfortunately every shred of that glittering, expensive looking rack of gemstones and precious metal is cursed.

The shopkeep heaves a box up onto a small table and begins digging through it avidly; if someone's gonna get a sale, someone had better find an example in garnet! "There's a ... mmm, allied, mayhap, shop closer to the harbor with shades of predominantly emerald and topaz, if you've an interest."

While the two barter, Light stands to the side, not wanting to interrupt something that isn't his business. As someone without any real interest in jewelry, the wares offer him nothing. If the conversation is any indication, Lahabrea isn't as interested, either.

Emerald and Topas? He'd been near enough to hear 'garnet and gold'. Obviously, their relationship is new and shallow enough that Light doesn't know if those colors will be enough to capture Lahabrea's attention, or if the shopkeeper will find something within the box that will satisfy him. Off to the side, he eyes the wares idly, but Light doesn't expect to see a hidden necklace the man simply forgot he owned.

"It's true that I don't see anything in garnet or gold here."

"Unfortunate. I look terrible in blue." And most other colors for that matter. "Several of these come with various magics built into them, so there is at least a practical use to some of it."

Though that's not why he's here, he's seeing if anything tilts the dragon's interest towards adding things to his very small hoard. It was a reluctant indulgence but one he could at least allow for , far more harmless than other options in the offering. "Not all are ornate, if you've an interest in things a bit more useful."

The gesture that accompanies this from the dragon isn't exactly scornful, but he's here to tempt his inner beast, not buy simple rings or bracelets or chains of unremarkable appearance.

"I can see the advantages of using something to supplement my magic, but I'm being careful with my money right now. Since we didn't come with any kind of savings, I'm focusing on building that up before spending very much. If I saw something strong enough to be worth the money, I might make an exception, but I'd also be a little wary of that kind of power being offered, too."

Light's recently opened his own business, one he's keeping secret for now due to current events, but it means he has to be careful with his spending until he can advertise more publically.

"If I did make a purchase, it'd probably be something more like a watch than a necklace."

The shopkeep glosses over most of what seems to him to be pointless drivel in favor of looking for something that might satisfy the one who should actually purchase something. A 'browser' who isn't likely to buy anything is just a waste of time!

He hasn't found a necklace in the colors Lahabrea's asked for but he's come up with a fairly elegant set of earrings of those shades, which are set out for the dragon's perusal. "My cousin, down by the docks, has a wide variety of watches to pick from!" Well, if business goes to someone else in the family at least it's still in the family.. "From ordinary timekeepers to tracking the phases of the moon and each day of the month! And of course, some with minor spells upon them too, for alarm purposes, but you seem rather punctual, I'm sure you need no such thing! Why, it's not power being offered at all, my fine young sir. You must be one of our dear Mirrorbound! Nearly every shop in the city offers magical goods! If we didn't, we'd never be able to keep up with rival shops. A spelled item isn't any more uncommon than an apple, for Aefenglom!"

Lahabrea doesn't add to the shopkeep's sudden enthusiasm, instead weighing it in silence. Likely it'll be rejected too.

Lahabrea is blonde. That much, she remembers from the bar, but Irhya had figured that was the most she was likely to get. So to hear the associated voice coming from someone who looks like that...

Gods above, why are the cute ones always crazy?

She swallows. Her eyes linger on Lahabrea as she approaches, but before he can see her staring at him, she turns to the shopkeeper as if to help him out. "Er, when you have a moment, may I ask about items for protection, if you have any?"

The glittering is nice, certainly, but she isn't impulsively driven to have it just because it's pretty. Her interests are much simpler, but jewelry can often serve a purpose in being enchanted, so it's practical in some ways. Right?

Nothing in this shop is going to be particularly plain, though at least none of it is also over the top gaudy to the tune of what a child might enjoy when playing Princess. What Lahabrea's after is certainly ornate, but doesn't quite tip over into garishness. It might on someone less vividly colored, though; red gems and gold required the proper accents.

And it's while hunting through supplies for a properly colored example of what he'd already found that the shopkeep notices a second patron - as does Lahabrea, by the way one ear swivels to follow the sound of footsteps.

Irhya's presence is an immediate reminder of why he preferred to be covered and decent in public, and this was absolutely not it. Without the mask, as he turns enough to level an unblinking stare on her, it's easier to see changes of emotion .. and to the surprise of nobody, vague annoyance seems to be a default, gray eyes narrowing slightly. If all went well, soon enough she'd be less of an issue. But soon enough wasn't actually soon enough.

"I have several," the man chirps brightly, setting aside one box and picking up another. With another person around, a turnskin by the look of it, surely there's a little bit more safety from potential draconic wrath! "What sort of protection are you looking for?" Meanwhile, his own looking: there's several other examples of Lahabrea's pick, but nothing yet in garnet or ruby.

"Magic wards, primarily. But I'll hear anything you have." Irhya's eyes flick to Lahabrea briefly, then away. Whatever she's thinking, she chooses not to address him with it. "Elements in particular would be handy," she adds carefully after the fact.

Even if she elects to keep quiet for now, she really, really wants to make a smart remark. It's absolutely unfair how attractive you are, or some such. Not to sound like a flirt, of course -- perhaps that's too coy. With a face like that, who needs to barter? That could be better...

When the man turns back around with a few selections, she makes a face, suddenly remembering that one little vampire stipulation. "Oh, I forgot to mention. No silver, if you please. Silver in color is fine, preferable even, but if it's real silver, I can't use it. Beyond that, I have no strong preferences."

Dealing with two perspective clients at once means the original gets the preferential treatment only because he was there first. The shopkeep keeps looking for something of appropriate colors as requested, but holding dialogue is easy enough in the interim!

"No silver! I thought you might be a turnskin! I have a variety of bracelets in gold and platinum that should suit you, though most of my current elemental protection is versus this terrible cold and wet we've been having!" Because that's actually perfectly reasonable in the dead of winter. "Why, that set of rings right there is guaranteed to keep a body nice and warm no matter how cold it is outside! Quite popular with naga."

Said set of rings are directly to her right, and look rather ornate in braided gold and tiny little gemstones of aquamarine.

Meanwhile, triumph! It's short lived - the gems are not in fact the rubies the shopkeep thought they were, but instead glittering chunks of topaz. "My, I know I have something to your tastes somewhere in here.. the topaz would look striking as well, if you don't mind my saying!"

"Too much yellow," is the rumbled response. "Gold on gold is not an ideal combination."

"Vampire, actually," she corrects him, smiling wryly. "The ears and tail are a trait of my race. It's a pretty common mistake." At first, she doesn't react much to the offer of the rings, but after a second of two, her ears pick up, and she glances again, studying them speculatively. Well... perhaps there is a use for such a thing. Certainly, it's not what she'd planned on leaving with, but...

When the man presents the topaz sets to Lahabrea and he makes that comment, Irhya can't help but break her silence, however. "Have you tried blue or purple?" she ventures, looking at him at a slant. "You already have a great deal of red and yellow on your body, so a cooler contrast might be nice."

The shopkeep seems willing to resume rummaging about; there's quite a bit of stock simply not on display right now, and cursed items do need to be sold! Especially since there's a few potential patrons watching. If something was good enough to please a dragon, it might be worth it for them to check in on too.

"Vampire! Why, I wouldn't have guessed at all. I wonder if I might have something better suited to a lady of the night then, let me consider!" At least with someone else there the shopkeep can settle into that almost too friendly routine everyone with something to sell settles into inevitably, but he does at least seem to mean it. It's not flattery for the sake of flattery. "I have some charming necklaces that can change size with you, should you have a little bat form! Guaranteed to be light enough to carry easily! I believe one or two might even breathe the semblance of life's warmth into your skin, if you fancy such a thing."

The topaz is set aside, carefully on display alongside similar things to tempt others with. Plenty of people like topaz just fine, it's simply the matter of finding the right customer. And then back to rummaging. There's plenty of things to pick from, just.. a matter of finding the right thing for the right customer.

As Irhya ventures a comment to Lahabrea himself, the only outward sign of any change of emotion is the way his ears pin back against his hair, barely a spot of red against the blond, tail giving a single dull thud against the ground. "It is not what I am interested in," is the eventual ground-out response. "It is for the beast, and the beast prefers red. And gold. Occasionally something of tourmaline or star sapphire draws its interest, but by and large not." Briefly he bares his teeth in irritation, each one a sharp thing now, fingers clenched. "If its tastes were less precise perhaps its hoard would be larger than a dozen items, but it refuses anything not up to its precise interests."

The only thing he dared indulge his instincts in, so far. And though there had been a stirring of greed now and again, nothing had sprung out at him as absolutely must have yet.

Irhya opens her mouth; closes it. "Ah... an instinct thing," she concludes, a bit surprised. "I... think I understand."

As for the necklaces, though, her eyes keep drawing back to the rings, thoughtful. "As much as I appreciate the offer, I feel a necklace would be too intrusive, and I'm unlikely to need it in my bat form, anyway. But a ring... that might be nice, for my purposes." What purpose is probably not the kind she'd explain in polite company, but perhaps he can figure it out himself. "It will save me a great deal of trouble, anyway."

She hesitates. Perhaps she's barking up the wrong tree, but even so, she looks at Lahabrea and makes her offer anyway. "After this, I wouldn't mind helping you look if you aren't satisfied with anything here."

"I should hope so, unless somehow bat-folk are immune to the pressures of foreign impulse, though I have heard of no such unexpected freedom from instinct or ferality." He'd seen what happens to vampires on the full moons, as interesting as it was it rather solidified their natures as far as Lahabrea is concerned. Most of the time looking perfectly ordinary.. and now and again, once a month or so, the nature of the beast reveals itself and strips away all vestiges of 'humanity', at least by appearance. How fitting, for those otherwise seemingly untouched by the ravages of monstrosity!

When a customer isn't being clear about what they're looking for, by the long puzzled look the shopkeeper gives her, being able to find what Irhya's after seems like it's going to be difficult. Some witches had telepathiclike skills, but if this man is a witch, there's no sign of such mind-reading ability. "I am sorry, but you'll have to be specific about what your purposes are, my lady. I have many options and my cousin down the way many more, but 'protection' narrows it down not at all as there are a countless number of things one may seek protection from."

Lahabrea for his part, has a sense that getting any further help in what he's after, in spite of being there FIRST, was rapidly becoming unlikely. A salesman is after all only interested in the sale, and Irhya seems far less selective than he was. "That would be unwise." 'Help'. He needed no help from an enemy. "Should you happen to chance upon such an item and reveal it chances are high I will kill you to acquire it." He gestures with one taloned hand towards a different part of the city - still being rebuilt after two OTHER dragons had come to blows over an item. "While I am sure I can convince the beast that such an item is acquirable without violence from a seller, you are no such thing."

"Oh." She blinks, once, twice, then rolls her eyes as she turns so he can't see the gesture. "I... wish you luck, then. I shall keep that all in mind."

In case she ever needs to appeal to him with gifts of some sort. She could surely acquire the materials and put something together herself if she needed to, but if he's fussy, then perhaps it would be better not to do the delivery in person...

"Ah, apologies! I was thinking protection from magical attacks or curses, but now that you show me that body heat ring, I'm interested for other reasons. It's..." She pauses, trying to think of how to phrase it. "I worry about my bond partner sometimes, given I have so little body heat for when we... well, bond. He claims not to mind, but I think it'd surprise him nonetheless."

Lahabrea doesn't see the eyeroll - and it's probably for the best, given how he reacts to such things ordinarily. As it is, her decision to not pursue it is accepted as a life-saving reasonable decision, and he doesn't question it at all. He knew how high those bestial instincts normally rode, and that was without provoking them on purpose.

As it seems the dragon's not finding what he's after, the shopkeep produces a small card and scribbles on the back of it quickly. "Here, sir. My cousin has a shop towards Western Residential, I know she has an assortment of rubies that might tickle your fancy. I do apologize for not having what you're looking for here, but please stop in and see if anything there interests you!" It might be overly polite, but one must be careful when dealing with dragons. Lahabrea takes the card, weighing the address silently for a long moment before giving a short nod.

And then turning to leave, heading vaguely north-west. Maybe he really does intend to see that other shop.

The shopkeeper holds his tongue further for a few minutes, though his eyebrows had risen at the earlier eyeroll nothing is said within earshot of the dragon in question. That's dangerous.

"You should heed his warning, my lady," the man says after a moment, producing an entirely DIFFERENT, tied shut box and setting it on top of his other wares. "Dragons can't help it, it's like turnskins changing on the full moons or ... well, your hunger for blood." He opens the box, and it has an array of jewelry obviously meant for personal wear, not public. Some look perfectly ordinary but others..!

"There aren't a lot of Dragons around these days, but everyone knows the stories. Usually they don't actually tell people about it, things just go right nasty out of nowhere when someone stumbles across what they want." He smiles, apparently far more at ease now that there isn't a seven and a half foot dragon breathing down his metaphorical neck. Maybe he hadn't made a sale there, but there might be one here! "Now, if you're looking to entertain yourself and your bond, might I suggest these? Their spells are more crafted towards encouraging pleasure alongside their baseline spell." A simple braided gold ring is plucked up; it does have a lone gem setting but it's pale blue. "This might be something like what you're looking for; it's normally used by the partners of those who lean towards frost magic, maintaining a certain temperature no matter what outside influence there is, but it can be tweaked a bit to hold, shall we say, a hotter degree than you might usually enjoy.."

"Ah?" she says with a blink. "I see. If that's the case, maybe I misjudged him. He and I have... a history, shall we say. So I assumed he was just being difficult again..."

But now that he seems to have relaxed without Lahabrea scrutinizing his wares, Irhya eyes the ring curiously. Silver is definitely more her color, but with the allergy to it, she'll not complain too much. "That would be lovely. Not too hot, I hope, but perhaps it would be a welcome change..."

The thought comes to mind that perhaps something along these lines would be appreciated by Mettaton, too, though without the heating aspect; he is a heated robot now, after all. And if he shapeshifts, it ceases to matter anyway.

"So, what's your asking price, then?" A small smile forms on her lips. "I may also be interested in a second one, ideally without the heat aspect... I've a friend in mind, you see."

The shopkeeper spreads his hands. "If you imply that history is less than pleasant and he hasn't eaten you yet, then things have gone quite well for both of us I think!" There's a lot of value in having a dragon customer, but not if it gets you killed, as far as he's concerned.

Still, a sale at another shop he's part of is just as good as his own, so he can turn his attention to the sale he might actually be able to pull off here instead of worrying about one somewhere else. "Now, I'm not the one that set the spells myself, but as I understand it none of them are going to be dangerous, if that's what you're worried about. No scalding or burning!" That's an easy reassurance to make, and he seems to believe it completely.

A price though~! He taps his chin briefly with one finger looking thoughtful. "Hmmm, well, normally these would be a thousand cunes or so each, and a bargain at that rate.." Which is true, given how they look! Expensive and fancy! "But as it's growing rather late and I haven't made my target for the day... why don't I offer two for the price of one? I'm sure I can find something your friend will like too, though are they inclined towards ordinary jewelry or the more ... private kind?"

"Two, huh? Yeah, I think he'd be interested in something like that..." Pause. Smirk. "And definitely the private kind, in his case. It'll keep him entertained."

Or entertaining, as is Mettaton's way. Plus, a thousand for two sounds like a decent deal to her, especially given it's so perfect for a problem she didn't even know had such a simple solution.

"All right, I'll bite. He doesn't need the heating effect like I do, of course, but if you've aught interesting otherwise for someone who likes to mess around on a regular basis, so to speak, I'm willing to hear it."

And perhaps she can take advantage of it, too, if she's lucky. What would she like to see Mettaton in, though? She presses a thumb to her lips. "Though, just 'aroused all the time' seems like it isn't quite enough... To me, anyway. I really want it to be unique."

The shopkeeper makes a thoughtful noise, pulling on the wisps of what might be an attempt to grow a beard. "It's always a bit dicey trying to guess what another might like," he cautions, setting a small array of delicate-looking gold chains to one side, and some matching rings with it. They're all slightly different, some fancier, some not, but it seems he feels these particular items might be what's being looked for.

"These might be what you're looking for, for someone who knows exactly what he wants and doesn't hesitate to go for it. They're a fair bit more durable than they look, and can certainly hold up to a little rough play!" He taps one of them, inset with a delicate little array of rose quartz gems. "The magic woven into these crystals excels at helping the wearer relax a little bit in intimate situations, and slow encounters down to match the pace of a more leisurely partner. Why rush, there's all night. Or all day."

The wristlet-and-ring set, tied together with their own delicate little chain, is tapped next. "This one might be better suited for someone who could use a little help in changing up their roles in the bedroom. If your partner is quite dominant and pushy, then it should well handle things so someone else can step into that fun little slot for a while! Of course, while doing no harm in the process, and I assure you none of our products are-" He shudders, making a face. "-mind control. Their magic can do nothing that someone wouldn't already be interested in doing, even in their most secret hearts."

He brightens a tiny bit. "And as a third option, while I think about it.." And this one's definitely a fairly ornamental cock ring. "For the discerning partner interested in naught more than an intense night, this little gift will see to it that anyone who wears it is sure to last until everyone is satisfied."

Studying the items placed before her, Irhya thinks on it. What would the two of them like? She ponders the question for a few moments. The first could work, considering how lazy his partner can be, but she can't say with certainty that that's how it always is for them. So perhaps...

"The third one might be best," is the conclusion she finally comes to. "Since you're right about guessing, at least. Plus, I feel his energy is part of his charm, and I'd hate to take that from him. So intensity will be the safest bet, I think."

Though doesn't a cock ring do that normally? she asks herself silently, then dismisses the concern out of hand. If it's magically enhanced, there's surely more to it than the usual.

She runs her fingers over the jewels encrusted into the metal, attentive. It seems well-made enough, and it's definitely attractive to the eye... Hopefully he'll enjoy the sensation.

"If there's something else that catches your eye, I'll be here til I run out of goods." She might change her mind!

And he'll be long gone. He knows exactly what he's selling, and he's fine with it. The shopkeeper picks up from beneath the table a pair of small discreet-looking boxes, and packs up her selections seperately; after all if one's supposed to be a gift it didn't do to have them combined! "And of course if something more mundane is of interest! I'm afraid I can't do much about the silver trouble, but if you know a turnskin, I've an amulet that fares well against wolfsbane."

Of course he'll continue to try to make deals, that's what a businessman does. But with a secured purchase, the rest is simply icing!

As if running into Mettaton wouldn't happen in his own home turf: the entertainment district.

Lahabrea browses. And while he 'negotiates' (read: intimidates) a poor, curse-vending shopkeep, another presence makes his way to an extension of the stall: a neighboring, separate table overseen by a cohort of the shopkeep's. (She doesn't at all envy her coworker's choosy customer.)

Where Lahabrea dresses down to show off his golds and crimsons, Mettaton, too, is... still not dressed in any way whatsoever, but definitely different, and also in... yellows and crimsons. If his monitor counts.

The Puca hums in a voice far different from the modulated, melodic tone he takes in his EX body,. It's deep and low and loud, while he hums a catchy jingle. A clawed finger combs through bracelets with a screen that flickers erratically, a demonstration of being titillated (by glitter), pleased (by gold)... until the boxy bot finally picks out a gem of his own: a chain of gold, accented in deep wines and pops of clear, enticing rubies. On the Puca's screen is a red heart.

"OOH LA LA... THIS ONE, I LIKE." Not only is his voice deep and booming, but also synthesized, robotic. "TALK SWEETLY TO ME, DARLING. TELL ME MORE ABOUT THIS GLIMMERING GOLD..."

Mettaton points to his find, completely ignoring Lahabrea for the moment, fixated on the bracelet he's found—and that he's asking after, as though contemplating its purchase. After all, Mettaton has never seen hide nor feather of Lahabrea as a Dragon, though he easily entertained wanting to tear that mask and those robes from his figure. (In a completely unsexy way, of course. Just to look! He's a curious man, and Lahabrea is wearing a stupid mask! It's like the Phantom of the Opera, and MTT's Christine Daaé, unable to resist just tearing that half-mask from his face to see what horrors(???) lay beneath!) It's pure chance that they've found themselves standing side by side at this jewelry pop-up, handling cursed jewelry to satisfy two different Monstrous needs. In this particular event, the shopkeep seems to eye Mettaton's ears... before asking simply, doubtfully,

"Are you really supposed to be a Puca?"

Edited (i like ooh la la better here because it's worse) 2021-02-16 09:20 (UTC)

There aren't many machines in Aefenglom.

Certainly there is only one with black tipped ears and gray fur, and Lahabrea doesn't much like that one. Tolerated, by necessity, but barely that much. Avoiding causing problems with Emet-Selch's bonded simply meant AVOIDING his bonded, save a certain vampiric miqo'te he's decided to do something about erasing permanently from existence. In the grand scale of things, Mettaton is a nuisance ... and one he preferred to simply stay away from to prevent further problems.

The only olive branch he'd bothered offering, or intended to offer in the future, had been information on what to do with pineapples. As the robot rolls up, in a certainly far less interesting boxy form with an odd display in front, with ONE WHEEL that strikes him as being far more absurd than the ridiculous high heeled boots of previous interaction ... there's minimal reaction from the dragon save a brief thump of feathery tail on the ground and almost felineish ears pinning flat against his hair. The rest of his reactions he's long since learned to control, and those he does so without hesitation, a brief glance cast in the direction of the unwelcome machine before he turns his attention back to what he's doing. That's not the table he'd selected, having found little there that stirred some inner hoarding instinct.

But the distraction of a box on a wheel with bunny ears has distracted Lahabrea's vendor too, expression one of confusion and doubt. Clearly this is some sort of prank, but what to do about it is harder. At least it's not his table the machine has gotten to.

"I... do have something like that, yes," he says eventually to Lahabrea's question, still very much distracted by Mettaton one table over, picking up an unboxed crate of jewelry and carefully digging around in it. "It won't have the same protection spells upon it, however.."

But no necklace is immediately forthcoming because the box with rabbit ears is extremely distracting.

Mettaton's used to it: he's the sort of presence ("thing,") that has heads turning. At this, he doesn't bat an eye, even if he had an eye to bat; he merely marvels at the piece, inquiring for more details.

Unlike Lahabrea, Mettaton simply likes things resplendent and shiny: quality was important though, he wouldn't be humiliated by costume jewelry when he wanted class. So where he wouldn't turn his nose up at something with a less impressive carat or karat, it would up his interest if its value was higher. It was his Puca's luck that managed to unearth this piece of jewelry, buried in the stacks of others. (It's also definitely cursed.) But his marveling's cut short by the shopkeep's tried and tired question.

"'SUPPOSED TO BE,'" he repeats, tapping a claw against the side of his body. "WHAT EVER DO YOU MEAN? I AM A PUCA. DO YOU THINK THESE EARS ARE FOR SHOW???"

Tall ears flick. So organic, so lifelike. The real thing. The woman nods, but the distant, puzzled look to her eye suggests that she absolutely can't wrap her mind around this... automaton exhibiting signs of a living, breathing Puca. (Well, it's no matter? If Monsters are sub-human, if automatons don't even have feelings... She sort of takes his insistence in stride, though it's pretty clear she doesn't have any sort of earth shattering realization about it.)

She nods, glancing to her cohort, then to Lahabrea. Lahabrea's vendor spares only the scantest glance her way. Their faces are masks, betraying nothing beyond discomfort (and sympathetic discomfort) over the Draconic customer.

"Puca indeed," she coughs, then beckons the robot closer. "If you're an authentic Puca, as you claim... Do I have a special deal for you!"

"YOU HAD ME AT SPECIAL, GORGEOUS!" Mettaton exclaims, pretending to fan himself as he nearly throws himself with exaggerated enthusiasm against the table. For being a rectangle, Mettaton is awfully heated in manner, reaching intently toward his deal-striking vendor with a come-hither curl of his finger. "YOU SPEAK SWEETLY, BUT NOT YET OF GLITTER AND GOLD! I'M WAITING..."

She leans in for her robotic customer and cups her hand around her mouth, speaking directly into one of those tall, black-tipped ears. But Mettaton's emotions are made clear as he listens, as he comprehends her request... For Puca are good at fulfilling tasks, for the right price, and she's striking one such deal with Mettaton right now.

The sort of task that has him turning his body, his ears leaning forward, curious. But the face of his body is pointed at Lahabrea, finally. His screen, red, glows at a low, deep crimson. Without eyes, he stares, listening to some mysterious terms.

"..... HM."

For the moment, that's all he has to say.

With Lahabrea's goal being adding to his tiny hoard, any cursed item .. and there would be one.. or two, or more depending on the price ... would simply go into the jumble, lying in wait for the unwary and unsuspecting. He's unaware of any potential such risk, they are after all surely just unusually cheap well crafted goods, perhaps stolen from Dorchacht or the Underground or whatever to make them easier to fence in Aefenglom, but it is in a way appropriate for a dragon's hoard to be cursed in some fashion.

Unfortunate that the dragon tended to prefer to admire his collection as opposed to actually wear it or the revelation as to the nature of these items would be much, much sooner..

"I will forgive a lack of spells. The design.. and the coloration is more important." Because the beast this world has tied his soul to is extremely picky about what it felt was worthy for the hoard, unlike Lahabrea himself, who vastly preferred amethysts. Rubies and garnets were nice, he did grudgingly have to admit that, but amethyst was simply ... better.

Now if only he could convince the damn beast of that.

For all the world it looks like Lahabrea's ignoring Mettaton's own potential shopping spree and the robot himself, but he isn't. Just in case - he's pretty sure he knows what Mettaton's capable of, but that's in a form that actually had legs. And a face. This one's rather more inscrutable, and who knows what sort of trouble it could bring. Especially when it involves whispering; did she think that her sale might somehow be less valuable if overheard?

Or mayhap she was planning something he'd simply have to skin her alive for. Thankfully it's not the shopkeep he's dealing with, whatever her clearly nefarious intentions might be ... and better yet for him, the piece of jewelry the man comes up with does pique the beast's interests. Just as he'd looked for previously, black and gold entertwined, but with tempting bright red gems instead of silver and sapphire. Not garnet, clearly, but ruby was just as nice.. "Ah! Not garnet, but maybe it would suit..?"

Lahabrea takes it in careful claws; one must not damage wares they don't intend to buy. "Mm. And it has no spells upon it?"

"Let me check its tag! I'm fairly certain most of our stock does have some manner of delectable enchantment.."

Well, Lahabrea seems content with the choice... The Puca slightly turns toward his shopkeeper as if to pose the question, what now? Even his screen flashes in disgruntled red, as though jilted for terms that don't seem to be relevant anymore! This shopkeeper had better be generous and make good on her word.

But Mettaton can certainly work on this situation anyway, and he grasps for the vendor's hand to give it a firm shake, much to her bewilderment. After all, the only thing his shopkeeper asked of him was to get Lahabrea away from their booths, he's an unnerving customer who is ungodly choosy and she doesn't like him. Mettaton makes the action as though cracking his knuckles, but that's obviously just for show.

The robotic Puca wheels toward Lahabrea with his hands splayed eagerly on either side of his body before clasping them together in delight.

"OOOH, WHAT A... LOVELY FIND!!" he manages, and it's hard to tell if he feels that sincerely or if he's just forcing a compliment. He points toward Lahabrea's developing scales, the coloration of golds and reds. "IT WOULD BE A STUNNING MATCH SUITABLE TO SHOCKING SCALES. WHY, I THINK YOU'VE MANAGED TO FIND YOUR PERFECT FIT!!! DON'T YOU AGREE?? THERE'S NOTHING MORE TO LOOK AT HERE, THAT WOULD SURPASS THE BREATHTAKING COLORS YOU'VE PICKED. WHAT A LUCKY MAN YOU ARE!! I'M JEALOUS, DARLING. I'M GREEN WITH ENVY!!"

He waits eagerly for a response, for a confirmation that Lahabrea's planning to purchase the necklace. But just in case the Dragon had any doubts... Mettaton flexes his fingers greedily, as though inclined toward this purchase. His screen flickers, displaying the number one in red. He knows Lahabrea could be a Dragon with a penchant for hoarding such items, even though he doesn't know what specifically about it draws him in, but he tries to goad him recklessly anyway.

"BUT IF YOU'RE NOT GETTING IT... WHY, I'D BE GLAD TO STEAL IT UP FROM UNDER THIS DISCERNING DRAGON'S NOSE!"

Pushy, Mettaton holds out a hand, edging closer to the jewelry.

That generous shopkeeper has chosen to bite off way more than she could possibly chew.

Every move they make is in fact tracked, and as a handshake follows, Lahabrea knows more or less where this is headed, tail giving another solitary thump against the ground. False sincerity and eagerness doesn't change his blank expression at all when he turns his head to study Mettaton directly, gray stare unwavering.

"Why do you want this puca to die?" Although he's looking at Mettaton, it's clear who he intends it for. "A customer who would have happily paid for your wares, and then denying your companion a sale too? Is your dislike of rabbits so deep? Or is it a hate for machines?"

That small crowd which had gathered upon it being clear there were at least some things that met a dragon's standards are dispersing rapidly. A puca versus a dragon is no fair fight, and the last time dragons were involved in a struggle over possessions, part of the city burned. The looks that shopkeep woman are given are not at all flattering, glowers and mutters and disgusted looks. But not a soul goes running for the city guard. Some people deserve what they so blatantly beg for.

He had liked the necklace and its glittering gemstones and spiraling golden inlays. But he had made a promise, and whether or not he liked it, Lahabrea kept his promises. Ripping Mettaton into tiny metal shreds - or at least trying to - would violate that. His promise said nothing about idiot humans. At this point his own shopkeep has gone pale, and hurriedly sweeps wares back into their boxes to be sorted later. Things get destroyed when dragons get angry. He makes a brief, aborted reach for the necklace, clearly wanting to put that back in a box too, but it's just out of reach..

Lahabrea wants the necklace, but he doesn't need it. There's no desperate pull and vicious surge of jealousy, a thing that would have contented the beast but not been a desperate acquisition. Mettaton's reaching hand is considered blankly ... and the necklace dropped into it. "You may stop pretending now. Claim the item you were promised quickly, for time grows rapidly short."

And then he heads for the neighboring small shop at a leisurely stride, tail a suspiciously gentle, fluffy banner of crimson and brass, giving a long, slow flex of his semi-retractile claws.

Hate for Puca? Dislike for machines? The way she glances toward Mettaton is hardly with any care for him, or it, or... whatever the box is supposed to be. It's a Puca, and that's... the best she can make of it. As for her cohort...

Lahabrea's shopkeeper pretends he has no idea what his companions is doing, despite the shared look they'd exchanged earlier. The man just ogles at her, and she gawks back, paling at the threat while her friendly competition pays more care to his wares rather than... whatever's about to unfold. Has she been duped by someone she thought a friend? She was so sure he wanted the Dragon gone; she was trying to do him a favor! She's speechless, so she pretends she doesn't notice Lahabrea's advance instead.

And while the bustling passersby know certainly well that Puca are hardly a match for anybody, they're lucky little devils. Those who understand that are the ones to rubberneck, hanging about at a distance. There are some murmurs of Mettaton's name; he's been here for long enough to be recognized on sight, and some even know of his daredevil-like carelessness if they've watched him for long.

Even so, nobody really thinks of him as a sentient life. Merely an object of entertainment. That's what an amusement robot is, right?

Mettaton is taken off-guard by Lahabrea's acquiesce of the item he'd been expressing interest in moments prior. Mettaton himself didn't especially like it one way or another, finding it not suitably bedazzled for his taste. Neither Puca nor Dragon take the necklace, in the end, and Mettaton is puzzled. Both vendors lose a sale.

But he did work his end of the deal: all the vendor had asked for was to drive the Dragon away from that man's stall! Success, right? That much was true. MTT faces the woman who'd struck a deal with him, monitor puzzling through colors as he shrugs with his arms.

"TIME GROWS RAPIDLY SHORT? DARLING, YOU HAVE ME STUMPED." Mettaton tails after Lahabrea, interested in whatever events should unfold—and seeming to forget entirely about retrieving his treasure. "WHAT HAVE I DONE TO EARN YOUR IRE?? ALL I DID WAS COMPLIMENT YOUR CHOICE! DO YOU HOARD ONLY JEWELRY UNREMARKED UPON, OR WHAT?"

Really, he'd just flattered the choice! He thought Lahabrea would have taken it and left after he complimented his eye for sparklies. Mettaton brings a finger up to the corner of his screen, just as confused as he claims he is.

If she survives, she's going to have to learn something very important: driving off any customer costs cunes. And if that customer is just being alarmingly suspicious, deal with it until currency changes hands. "Rule number three," the shopkeeper mutters with an apologetic glance, shoveling goods into boxes, "Don't fuck with Dragons."

Not only is that a good way to get horribly murdered, dragons tend to be very, very wealthy. And what's good enough for a dragon, inevitably lures in other interested eyes that might look to see what's left over. Or had been, until she decided to cause problems and the more clever locals know danger in the wind when they smell it and are getting out of the way. No matter how unpleasant the dragon, cunes are why the shopkeeper is there, and there will be far less income should that potentially rich patron is driven off. He never wanted the dragon driven off without a sale first - afterward is fine but before... well.

In this case it's a mistaken estimate. Most dragons may indeed be ludicrously wealthy but Lahabrea's only really got enough currency for one or two items, but it's not a bad estimate to take ordinarily.

"You know as well as I your compliments are naught more than a farce. Pray shame yourself no further by attempting to continue it." Genuine flattery in theory works fine - but this reeks of deliberate efforts to get under his skin, and so it can't be anything genuine at all. Nobody goes from hatred and hostility to that so quickly, and if Mettaton either played at someone else's game OR wanted the item for himself, it changed the deception not at all.

Lahabrea stops at the front of the second shop, setting his hands and leaning a bit on the display stand. It creaks under the sudden pressure. He never once spares Mettaton a glance, which might not be for the best given the mechanical idol's fondness for humanity. "And this ... senseless creature saw fit to sic you on me like a dog, knowing not two moons' turn past a pair of dragons flattened part of the city over a desired item. Deliberately trying to get you to provoke those selfsame instincts, knowing any dragon would attempt to kill anyone foolish enough to try to touch something they felt was theirs ... is a calculated attempt to incite murder. You're a machine, so mayhap she thinks none would care. You MIGHT escape my claws, but what about everything and everyone between us?"

And that just encourages Lahabrea's own shopkeeper to work on boxing up a little faster, shuffling several out the back flap and to who knows where. The dragon leans a little harder and the entire booth begins to list with a creak. "Nay, you don't yet have my ire, retrieve your prize and go; I will address this dire insult to both of us. She will survive it, this I swear."

That should be a lot more reassuring than it sounds.

Mettaton laughs.

"A FARCE??? YOU'RE TOO SUSPICIOUS OF ME, DARLING!"

But he doesn't get much of a chance to elaborate upon his Complex Feelings (involving how Lahabrea would outshine the piece; that he did think golds and rubies matched him handsomely; that he was still not "green with envy") in this moment, what with the growing tension. It's a missed opportunity, all in all, all thanks to a shopkeeper's rookie mistake when dealing with Dragons—and when trying to win merchant friends.

The woman shopkeeper balks at her cohort, who just... packs his things and leaves. The nerve! But she hadn't realized her mistake, valuing his distress and comfort over the fact that he was willing to endure for the sake of a sale. And now... She fixes her attention on Lahabrea in full, realizing that the things he's saying are a direct threat toward her. Not upon her survival, apparently, oh how fortunate. But her livelihood... What would become of her? If not her, her wares? She frowns, eyes glassy and wide—an apparently novice at doing business, incapable of disguising her feelings of fear.

Mettaton doesn't like what Lahabrea's saying, championing humanity as he does, and abandons completely his pursuit of shinies. His screen glows crimson, and he emits a low buzzing sound akin to an old computer chewing on a floppy disk.

"I KNOW FULL WELL WHAT OCCURRED BETWEEN SOREN AND EREN. THEY ARE MY FRIENDS, AFTER ALL. IT WAS A DISPUTE OVER A COVETED POSSESSION, AND NONE OF THESE ARE YET YOURS," Mettaton decides, pointing at her things and the fleeing shopkeep's. "ARE YOU SAYING THAT JUST TO PROVE A POINT, YOU INTEND TO HURT HER?"

Mettaton's ears remain tall and alert, and he plants his fists on the boxy equivalent of his hips. Mettaton makes a quick veer on his singular wheel and...

launches himself atop the vendor's booth. Mettaton blocks the shopkeeper from view with all 5+' of his chunky metal body on the determined tabletop, which creaks in protest of 300+lbs of robot. He even settles upon all of her jewelry, as though he belongs among the finest collection of jewels.

Despite the ridiculousness of this scene, Mettaton continues boldly, wagging a finger at Lahabrea.

"I WON'T ALLOW IT! EVEN IF SHE'S MADE A GRAVE ERROR IN THE CODE OF BUSINESS, I WON'T LET YOU HURT HER. DO SOMETHING ELSE."

Edited 2021-03-10 20:10 (UTC)

"Like so many others, you only hear part of what's said." He already explained himself, in detail; maybe Mettaton's okay with being set up as a murder victim, so sure is he of his ability to escape, but Lahabrea is not anywhere near as forgiving over someone trying to set him up as the killer. He chooses who he wants to murder and when, not someone else, not when they're going out of their way to try to abuse the instincts he didn't like having anyway. And had that necklace indeed been something hoard-worthy.. "Rewind a little and re-process it and mayhap you'll find some answers."

He doubts it; if there was anything he could rely on it was the decisons of others to take everything he does and says and simply ignore three quarters of it. As Mettaton sprawls on the rows of jewelry, Lahabrea genuinely expects for several moments for the machine to extend a booted, humanoid leg upward out of nowhere, it was the proper pose for it - and the wheel is somewhat lacking in comparison.

The dragon frowns, brows pulling the red and gold stripes along his eyes downward, visible feathers ruffling up as if by an unfelt breeze. It looks almost ridiculously fluffy, the brief snap of electricity in a huffed breath not helping any; it creates little static sparkles across those same fluffed up feathers. "Time and again I offer you favors - a promise to not kill you, the pineapple, how to care for the thing, the necklace you claimed you coveted, and time and again you insult my efforts." All this, because once upon a time, Lahabrea didn't find a machine sexy! And never would, his tastes simply lay in far different directions. But he genuinely thinks he's been outright generous and obliging until this point with a machine he didn't much like, even though his attitude and bearing has made any such generosity a backhanded gift at best long since. "I have gone out of my way to aquiesce to your whims more than enough at this point. This is the last time I will extend you any such courtesy. But there is still a price to be paid for attempting to incite murder, and bring this entire area to ruin. I will give her too a taste of what she asked for, in my generosity."

Lahabrea doesn't have his full strength as a dragon, but three hundred pounds is trivial to a fully changed beast. He isn't - not yet - but he has enough of that strength to dig his claws into the very tabletop Mettaton's sprawled on and heave the entire thing upwards and over in a sudden explosion of scattered jewels and glittering gold and silver, ornamentation scattering every which way. The booth had had enough pressure with a 300 pound machine on it, this further abuse is more than it can handle, the entire thing buckling in a shriek of twisting metal and shattering wood. He knows damn well Mettaton's going to be fine, he doesn't have the strength to toss the machine like a ball just yet, and the woman isn't likely to stick around either, but that booth, and all its sparkling treasures, are going to be going in every direction.

An enterprising young harpy darts in to snatch one of the flying jewels in one hand and flees off with it. With one person doing so, a couple others are edging in to see what can be pillaged as well.

The leg would have come momentarily, had the opportunity not been so utterly upended. Along with the table.

A table which Mettaton slides himself off of like butter, landing on—oh there are those legs, which he chooses to land on. Two heels erupt from where his wheel once was, the click of heels on rabbit-shaped feet hardly at all a distraction to the shopkeeper as she ducks for cover. Her goods are picked from, shinies attracting all manner of shiny-inclined Monsters—and human passersby aren't above picking from her collection, either.

Mettaton doesn't bother gazing skyward, too confident to care about where that abused table might land. His ears bounce up, alert, then lean back, showing their tops as they fold.

"WELL. IF THAT'S ALL, THEN... I APPROVE."

As the sparkling jewels begin to rain from the sky, Mettaton strikes a pose. The shopkeeper desperately tries to catch her cursed jewelry from the deluge in her arms, her livelihood in shambles. But hey, she wasn't physically harmed. More importantly...

Mettaton's stance returns to something more neutral, but he's back to being uncomfortably tall once more, a box standing atop shapely, long legs. He gestures animatedly toward Lahabrea with the point of his finger, continuing to pay attention to only what strikes him as most crucial. Such is the nature of fast-paced interaction, in Mettaton's fast-paced way.

"BUT WAIT! DARLING, THE PINEAPPLE... THE HELP. COULD IT BE?? ARE YOU LAHABREA?????"

He seems most shocked about this, screen flickering with his every syllable.

Would it really be all? Would Lahabrea be satisfied with the destruction of her livelihood - or at least this small portion of it? Was he simply biding his time, memorizing a scent and intending bloodier retribution later? There's really no telling, but even this little ruination certainly soothed a little of the constant agitation and fury that he contended with.

It would be much nicer on fire. All of it. As it is, there's more than a few people taking advantage of the situation who might well deeply regret it later as the various curses and flawed spells kicked in, but if Lahabrea were aware of any of THAT being a risk, he'd have taken his cunes elsewhere a long time ago. As it is he does absolutely nothing to any of them, the slow thump of his tail against the ground in a dull, muffled drumbeat no deterrent as soon as it's clear he's not suddenly going to turn on them. Nothing quite drew his interest enough.

Which was a damn shame, he'd hoped something would prove appealing to that strange dragonish sense of painfully specific greed, the beast within despaired at the tiny size of his collection and wanted far more than what he'd provided.

Maybe it was for the best given the puca's presence. Who now had legs, to go with the box and the rabbit ears. Puca were shapeshifters, he knew that much, but why would anything choose to be a box with legs. It keeps him from going anywhere for a moment mid-reach for the rest of the booth, fully intending to continue his destruction right up until that moment. There is a level of sheer improbable ridiculousness that even an Ascian might struggle with it.

A box with legs qualifies. And heels, he notes absently.

Of course there's heels. Why wouldn't there be heels to go with the legs. It makes as much sense as anything else does at this point.

Although his expression is schooled into something like neutrality, when he's pointed at, and then seemingly finally recognized (though he's certain that's been a thing long, long since now ... whether or not Mettaton had last seen him as an unchanged hyur, clad head to toe in dark and concealing robes), his changed ears flatten against his hair so much they all but disappear into the blond, a hackle-like ridge rising down the spine of his tail. It doesn't at all give him a more intimidating look; maybe if fate had chosen to give him spikes instead..

His claws close on the booth's remaining sides. It gives him something to dig their points into besides flesh or metal or the scattering of glittering, tempting jewels and precious metals. They glint and shine where they lay, a trove of cursed treasure.

"And others tell me I have such a distinctive and recognizable voice." His tone is flat, humorless; if somehow Mettaton hadn't recognized him before, well, now the particular shame of his changed appearance was hardly a secret anymore was it? "I fear your prize has been somewhat lost in the shuffle."

Yes, shuffle, as if Lahabrea hadn't tossed it all like salad in a bowl and then stood there and done nothing as shiny-seekers crept around them to take advantage of the free situation.

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