[Open] Come In From The Cold...

[inlikethebrume]

Who: House Darkness Residents and OPEN
When: All of February
Where: House Darkness in the Haven
What: It's an open log!
Warnings: Shadowbringers Spoilers in some threads possible, possible talk of the Snatched Event

[If anyone knows the residents of the house, it might seem strange that such a group have selected a cozy abode for their home in the city. However, it is not to be said that they are unwelcoming (depending on who) and usually when someone comes to visit, there's always a warm cup of tea ready for them...and maybe some food to go along with it. Feels like a crime if someone doesn't get fed. And despite the hardships of the previous month, the house does welcome guests for any particular reasons whether a visit for the soul, a chat to catch up on events, or even maybe go a few rounds with the poor striking dummy in the backyard.

When you live with sword users and have stress, it gets used, ok?

It might be chilly outside but strange enough, the house itself is pretty warm. Just mind the gaelkitten and Flood running around from time to time.]


((OOC: Feel free to make a top level if you wish! Open to all!))

Comments

[unsundered]

[That's not very reassuring at all, Mettaton! Though his stance is somewhat too theatrical for him to take entirely seriously, the words he couldn't ignore.

It wasn't enough to make him uneasy; there was no sign of anyone's powers returning, so it remained a hypothetical that would likely never be tested. But while he once would've assumed his natural ability would protect him from all threats, he knew better now. Being in this world at all was proof, what he'd learned of his future was proof- so this chance, however minute, couldn't be dismissed entirely.

To be protected from attack by intent alone? Mettaton certainly had the attitude of someone fickle, but was he really?]

I'd think the seeking of power to be a fine source of intent.

[Though he does drop his defensive posture, spreading his arms out instead.]

You'd be hard-pressed to find a stronger soul here for the taking. And a single death is quite easy to justify.

[With a show of relaxing his stance, he offers a small shrug, tone deceptively light.]

Well... not that I think you would succeed if you tried. How fortunate that you won't get the chance.

[Not that Emet-Selch would know the actual weaknesses of monsters. Then again, he's a mage; he probably wouldn't think to attack physically anyway.]

[glitzandglamour]

Hm. ...Yes, you're absolutely right. That dazzling power might be enticing enough to justify death. Who can say? [He shrugs with his arms.] Don't underestimate me now, sweetheart.

[Mettaton??? He nods, acknowledging that Emet-Selch is being perfectly reasonable. Yes, he could see himself in that position, justifying the Ascian's death or coveting such power for himself. He's met Emet-Selch a grand total of twice. He knows himself better than anybody, and he thinks it's perfectly within him to find excuses to justify his death. He's done it before, over a human, not an Ascian.

Apparently reassuring Emet-Selch isn't entirely his intention at all.

But he smiles again, this time with a more... seductive edge. He takes a step forward, toward Emet-Selch after he's relaxed some, entering that boundary of personal-intimate space again. There's nothing about him that's particularly threatening this time, not even dramatically. He clasps his hands together, resting the back of one against his cheek.]

That's why, if you really wanted to protect yourself from danger by my hand... You really ought to make me love you. Absolutely adore you. Physically, that would render me useless against you! I can't kill what I love! Hahaha...

[Thank you, Mettaton. Once again, it's hard to tell if Mettaton's joking or not. One thing's for sure, he's taking it as an opportunity to be ridiculous.]

[unsundered]

[Honestly, Mettaton admitting to it- that reassures him more than any attempt at denial, and gets a small point of favor in the cyborg's direction. The Ascian preferred to know where he stood, and assumed that where he stood was with the entire world against him. Just having it confirmed relaxed him. Bizarrely enough.]

There's a running theme to all of my Bonds, it seems....

[An exasperation so mild it almost qualifies as a bit sad. But he supposed he could appreciate the consistency.

And he looks no more bothered when Mettaton enters his personal space- or at least, he doesn't tense or recoil, and his gaze is unimpressed, voice mild.]

But would I find your affection more or less troublesome than your aggression...? I have a hard time deciding.

[Ridiculous or not, honest or not, Emet-Selch will at least pretend to take it seriously. And though his manner is detached, a casual sort of superior, he raises a hand, closes the small distance between them with it, to rest his fingertips underneath Mettaton's chin. The look to his good eye is utterly indifferent.]

Or are you claiming to be worth my effort?

[glitzandglamour]

[He allows Emet-Selch to reach for him, his own expression a mixture of smug amusement and unrelenting poise. But his smile grows.]

Oh...? Just what are you thinking...?

[It isn't difficult to endear Mettaton to you. It's not difficult to get him to use the "love" word on just about anybody, and the less acquainted are treated to this most about him. Truly, he loves... a lot of people. People whose names he doesn't know, and even people who've never seen him. But the closer he gets with another, the more distance grows. Even Mettaton's become aware of it. It's his own doing.

Emet-Selch's gesture is one of fondness, romantically cliche, though his eyes betray anything but. Not even a hint at trying! He's almost insulted that this would be his approach, but he keeps his haughty smirk anyway. He doesn't know what qualifies as worth Emet-Selch's effort, but does it matter? Vying for his attention is worth every ounce of effort, of course!]

You have no idea. But you surprise me... Shooting for romance. If that's the kind of love you'd wish to stoke in me, you'd have to try much, much harder.

[unsundered]

[It was true, he wasn't trying very hard. Or at all. And after a moment he drops the pretense entirely, pulling his hand back and stepping away from him, looking more bored than anything.]

Don't flatter yourself.

[Blunt, if not particularly harsh. He'd never been romantic, even with people he did care about. He'd never been kind, especially with people he cared about.

And while he'd certainly played the part otherwise, in his thousands and thousands of mortal lives, he had neither the inclination or the energy for it now. Even the memory of having to play all those roles irritated and drained him, and while his manner is certainly no nicer for it, it is more honest.

Turning away, he begins limping off.]

...Well, you've wasted enough of my time for one day. Enjoy the Bond.

[Because he's just. Going to teleport mid-stride there, waving sarcastically as he goes.]

[glitzandglamour]

[As Emet-Selch prepares for his departure, Mettaton shifts his weight onto one leg and places a hand on his hip. Then, he's gone.

He tsks into the empty lobby of the Coven.]

"Enjoy." Ha, ha. Just like that. How rude, after leading me on...

[Because he could appreciate the acting, even though he knew it was only that. It was fun!

Well, he will enjoy it. He hopes Emet-Selch enjoys that initial hollowness! And he hopes that he can feel his own sentiment of "Enjoy that Bond!" from here, if that's even how Bonds work. (It's the emotion of just mocking spite.) How dare he. Oh well. Mettaton gets on with his life.]