thisavrou_log | Aftermath

It's been two days since he'd been released from the medbay, and Mettaton had come to a realization pretty quickly. He was very expressive in his EX form, and that didn't just include when he was happy. Anyone who asked already knew that he wasn't in a good mood, or that he was faking it for their benefit. The questions were becoming unbearable, even for him, and that was saying something when considering that this was a guy who outright ignored or belittled anything that didn't please him.

So for once in a very long time, Mettaton wasn't roaming about in his signature high heels. Instead, he'd flipped his own switch and decided to roll through the halls in his box form, where the only real expressions he could give all centered around how his screen grid flashed or created shapes. This form wasn't any less damaged than his EX one of course; there were dents and scrapes all over, a few holes in need of patching, and at least a handful of his grid squares flickered. One was even shattered completely. In addition, his left arm still had delayed movement from his brief encounter with Papyrus' magic.

Still. He could move.

In his hands, Mettaton had a mop, and he was cleaning the floor. After all, he had been slacking off in his duties both as a media distribution officer, and in maintaining clean halls. Usually he'd just throw himself into the former job, but at the moment, he's far less interested in that because it involves being social.

As he passes the mop from side to side, he can't help but let his mind wander. It's been hard to think of anything else but what a savage brute he was for the latter half of the month. And to think that maybe it was all he was good for anyway. That's what Alphys had really made him for, and he couldn't even fight those impulses. While his conscience reminded him that compliance was forced by his collar, and that he had made some progress before this, Mettaton was unable to grant such positive thoughts credence right now. Because killing others came so naturally to him.

But feeling compassion for his enemies and those he had slain was a little less simple right now. He just...couldn't. And it frustrated him. Wasn't he once a monster? What kind of monster doesn't care about causing pain to others?!

But you're not a monster. You're a robot. You had a choice to be a ghost again and you chose robot.

His grip tightens around the mop handle, causing the wood to creak loudly beneath his fingers before letting out a loud SNAP!! Mettaton glances down at the broken mop and a sigh escapes him.

Edited 2016-07-26 22:00 (UTC)

Cleaning ship is about the only part of his job(s) that Kaworu bothers to do any more. The instruments he was meant to teach people to play lie abandoned in the (unofficial) music room. The novelty, such as it is, has worn off for him. Now the only interactions he has with his inherited collection is to pick them up and dust them off--a simple act performed mostly as a courtesy.

If it doesn't interest him, he doesn't do it. That's the conclusion he's reached in all of this, really; indulging the wishes of everyone around him might be easy for him to do, but it's just as easy not to. Maybe if he'd had more students, he'd still be interested in it.

But he doesn't, and he's not. He's on his way out of the room after tending briefly to the instruments' needs (he tuned them this time, mostly on impulse) when the loud crack of wood echoes across the hall.

He doesn't jump. He doesn't have the kind of startle reflex a real human would. He only looks in the direction of the sound--just in time to see Mettaton sigh.

And change his path to walk towards him.

Mettaton sees the young man walking towards him and his grid flashes with a brief exclamation point of recognition. It might seem like a positive expression but...it's more of an oh shit reaction. Had Kaworu heard that? Was he going to ask questions now? Shit, he was getting closer. Come on, can't everyone just leave him alone??

The robot almost sighed again. Well...at least he doesn't have a face now, not technically. So if he's as good an actor as he knows he is, then his voice will carry the right tone for the coming conversation. Just ignore the broken mop. He doesn't know his own strength, that's all.

"Oh, well look who it is! I haven't seen you in a while, darling!!"

Yeah. That sounds convincing!

It really does sound convincing.

Honestly, Mettaton should have saved it for an audience that could appreciate that.

"... it has." Kaworu agrees. He doesn't even miss a beat--in part because he's not really cognisant of those pauses where such things can and do happen. "But that was deliberate."

That sure is a thing to say with a smile, Kaworu.

"You're here cleaning because you want to be left alone, right? You should be less obvious about it if you don't want people to notice."

Mettaton did pause. He assumed that he wouldn't get called out like that immediately seeing as normal people followed a subset of rules related to conversational etiquette.

Kaworu obviously did NOT. It was a little grating, but hey. He can't express that with his face.

"I'm here cleaning because it's my job, honey," he says flatly. And yes, that is the most passive-aggressive use of "honey" that anyone could ever go with. "I expect people to walk by."

Kaworu blinks slowly, regarding Mettaton for a moment longer--with the exact same smile he had before Mettaton changed his tone. Then his gaze drops to the mop.

Then he shrugs. And turns to walk away.

...Look. Mettaton is in fact inherently violent and he won't lie about it. He thinks mild violence is good for ratings, and has questionable ethics. That said, he has had a very trying month with regards to his violent impulses, and is trying extremely hard to maintain his poise and temper.

This kid ignoring him? That is not helping. It's skews so far in the opposite direction of helpful, in fact, that moments after Kaworu turned away from him, Mettaton reeled his noodly arm back and just let fly the bottom half of the mop.

It's far from dignified. It is not his usual plan of action. But he's pissy. Don't you dare ignore him, you awful little cretin!!

Let it be known that Kaworu Nagisa is, by just about any known metric, one of the most powerful beings on the ship--if not the most powerful. His AT Field, when active, is so powerful that it can not only present an impenetrable barrier to any form of physical matter, it can block light, magnetic waves, and--yes--overpower any other AT Field.

He is factually invincible, and just shy of omnipotent.

The broken mop handle clonks him square in the back of the head, making a solid th-whunk noise as it bounces off his skull. Kaworu stumbles, pitching forward for balance as the projectile flips over him and lands further down the hall, clattering into a wall.

He regains his footing and turns, a truly offended look on his face, and he spreads his hands, palm up, in absolute, aggravated betrayal.

"Why!?"

Edited 2016-07-28 00:05 (UTC)

Mettaton may as well have been EX'd out, because with the way he moves, you can sense that he would be stomping towards Kaworu if he didn't have just a wheel for locomotion. So instead he angrily rolls up to the boy, his screen--or at least the squares that were still functional--a solid wall of red.

"Because while you are correct that I was interested in conversation, I am NOT interested in having a child attempt to psychoanalyze me, and then have the nerve to leave!! I was talking to you, and it is RUDE to simply leave a conversation without even a hello or goodbye after dropping your judgments!!

Learn some manners!!! I did not treat you unkindly until this point!!"

........

?????????

"--how was I supposed to know any of that?!" His face is somewhere between 'bewildered anger' and 'kicked puppy.'

"I was trying to talk to you! You acted like you didn't want me there, so I left you alone! Now that's not what you wanted?!"

Kaworu has tried very hard in the past to just make do with whatever happens around him, but that doesn't usually involve throwing things at him.

A displeased sound leaves the robot--how can he even make a disgusted sigh with no face? Don't ask.

"You were not talking to me. You were ascribing motives to me!! It isn't very polite of you to do that, and then leave as if you weren't saying something that would affront me!"

Mettaton isn't budging on this. Though...he will admit if necessary that throwing an object at someone wasn't the best way to convey his point. Where had his poor temper gotten him so far? Nowhere but a bad place.

"...I shouldn't have thrown that at you. And I am sorry for that. But not for the reason behind it."

Kaworu stares at Mettaton for several seconds, his brow still furrowed deeper than one usually gets to see.

Then he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he lets it out. It's not angry--just resigned. He turns around, walking away from Mettaton for a second time--an act that makes slightly more sense when he reaches the broken half of the mop and bends to pick it up, carrying it back to the robot with a... smile?

"Here."

Don't hit him with it again, please.

...This is acceptable.

Mettaton takes the other mop half. He isn't the most emotionally well-rounded individual on the ship but he still thinks that was better than walking off without acknowledging the robot in the room.

"Thank you," he says, holding both parts awkwardly now. Yikes, this sure was an uncomfortable situation.

"You don't take much interest in anyone else's problems, do you? You seem a little socially inept, if I may say so!"

He already said so. Go on and call him a hypocrite for assuming things about you, kiddo. Or don't. Whichever suits.

Thankfully for the continuing de-escalation of this little incident, Kaworu is completely aware of his shortcomings in that department.

...well, not completely aware. But he's not entirely blind to it. Not even he's capable of that.

"Sorry." It's not insincere--even if the tone is a bit inappropriately casual. "I've never had anyone throw anything at me before, though." Just punch him. And grab him by the collar and slam him into walls. And shove him away.

"Now that is a surprise. Have you really never frustrated someone that much?"

Ahem.

"At any rate, I may as well have stayed in my alternate form at this point. At least that way, people would be able to read my mood."

Which is, to be quite honest, what he doesn't want, but if Kaworu the socially inept could still read it from his words, then is there really a point to him being a faceless box after all? Man. Emotions are aggravating.

"I am certain they'd still ask invasive questions though. Lose-lose situation, my least favorite!"

Edited 2016-07-28 18:42 (UTC)

You know, Kaworu is just going to ignore that question.

But lose-lose? His brow furrows a bit.

"...you don't want others to understand you?" Of course, others are frightening. They have the power to hurt you, after all. It is the fear of that pain that causes humans to close themselves off to each other. But they also desperately desire to be understood and accepted, to feel love and form bonds with other people. Because humans cannot live alone.

He's actually a little unclear on whether Mettaton is a monster or an unequivocally "human" being in the vein of Lilim--monsters continue to be a poorly-defined quantity--but in this case, it's all the same thing. Emotionally, at any rate, monsters are exactly like Lilim and other humans. He's very certain of that.

That's an interesting question. Mettaton doesn't know how exactly to answer it though. He wants people to know him so that they can pay attention to him and worship the ground he stands on, that much is clear. But he's not interested in having his dirty laundry aired, and he's already been screaming that he's fine into the face of anyone who asked.

...Still. He doubts that Kaworu has the mentality to disseminate the information to embarrass Mettaton, and he does need an out. So why the hell not?

"I don't need everyone to understand me. I just need them to know what I do and why I'm important!!" he replies at last. "Once you start getting psychological about things, then it's not the kind of drama anyone likes."

Take that as you will.

Kaworu absolutely does not have that mentality. Anyway, who would he tell? Mettaton noted it himself: Kaworu is socially inept to a degree that makes toddlers look smooth.

He doesn't exactly have friends.

"Why are you important?"

.... for example.

Ok. That's it. Mettaton drops the mop pieces, ignoring the clatter they make as he reaches back and flips his switch. You, Kaworu, are going to get to see him transform.

It's flashy, of course. How wouldn't a box transforming into a seven-foot human-shaped automaton over the course of about half a minute be anything but flashy? Mostly though, Mettaton's doing it because Kaworu is annoying without even trying that hard, and he needs his face to emote.

Seriously, buddy. He switched to the box so he didn't have to emote and now you have him in his EX form again so that he CAN.

Once everything's locked into place, Mettaton crosses his noodly arms and gives Kaworu the stankest eye ever.

"Ex-cuse you?"

Kaworu takes one step back in surprise, but he doesn't look awed so much as utterly confused and... maybe a little perturbed.

Don't get him wrong, that was impressive. But he is still very uncertain about what exactly Mettaton is ("robot with a soul?" what does that mean? why can't Frisk ever explain anything so he understands?) and Mettaton's display... hasn't really helped that in any capacity.

So he's standing there with his hands in his pockets, his white hair slightly ruffled by the effects of Mettaton's transformation, and a smile is on his face like nothing important just happened at all. Or--

"Was I unclear?" He is, if nothing else, hilariously short compared to Mettaton. 5' isn't really much to write home about.

"I asked why you were important. Is the acknowledgement of others the same as happiness? Does the recognition of those around you protect you against loneliness?"

God, this boy is trying him today. Maybe it's the smile and the utter nonchalance.

In fact, Mettaton knows it is. Because that same combination had gotten him angry before, especially when combined with such judgmental words: I'm already a disappointment. You didn't have to be.

Damn it, no. No, he's not going to punch this boy. He already threw the mop handle at him, and that was undignified enough! So instead, Mettaton exhales sharply in irritation, his arms uncrossing and one going to his hip. He's not impressed with this sass...even less so because that last question really does sting.

It reminds him of Napstablook.

"To me they are one and the same, and I've worked very hard to gain my place in the spotlight, I will have you know! I fought for my recognition, and whatever loneliness I felt on that path was alleviated by the love of my fans!!"

Some of that is a lie.

"....I see."

If Kaworu is even a little bit aware of how hard he's testing Mettaton's self-control, it isn't externally obvious.

"So you substitute the attention of your fans for the frightening experience of exposing yourself to someone else. Do you fear rejection? Or are you afraid of the burdens others will place upon you if you open your heart?"

Kaworu hit the nail on the head so hard that Mettaton is actually stricken speechless. Congratulations, asshole. You literally did the same thing he hit you with a mop handle for, and you did it so well that he has no words.

Mettaton goes through a range of expressions; shock, insult, sadness, guilt...and finally settles on anger. He's been doing that a lot, but this time it's not just anger at being ignored like earlier.

It's anger at Kaworu telling him the truth about himself, and how unfair it feels, while at the same time it was completely legitimate. He should feel bad!

"If this is the result of baring myself, then tell me. WHAT IS THE POINT?!"

He doesn't care how loud that was, not anymore than he cares how aggressive his stance had become.

"You need to leave before I do something we will both regret."

That is a threat. He doesn't care how damaged his body is. He doesn't give a good goddamn.

Kaworu steps back, red eyes wide in bewilderment.

He has no idea what he did to engender such a virulent response. Humans are so fragile. They desperately seek the company of others, but their hearts are in such constant pain that they react to the slightest touch.

It's impossible.

But he didn't mean to--

Well. He knows when he's crossed a line. ~~Usually not, actually, but Mettaton was pretty clear about it in this case.~~

He backs up another step or two, giving Mettaton a short look, then beats a (walking) retreat down an adjacent hall--stopping only once to ensure Mettaton isn't about to throw something else at him before he vanishes around the corner.

That was the correct choice for this situation. For both of them, honestly. Mettaton was so aggravated he was beginning to overheat himself, and besides, he had no idea what sort of abilities Kaworu might have. Clearly he wasn't human or else he wouldn't behave like a psychopath who doesn't know when he's insulted someone.

Once the boy's out of his sight, Mettaton relaxes. He was angry, that's exactly how he started, but with Kaworu gone, that righteous fury switched to such paralyzing guilt that he just put his back to the wall, closed his eye and tilted his head up as if he could somehow drown out his emotional upset this way.

He doesn't move for a very long time, and if anyone crosses his path again, he will outright ignore them. He's done talking for the day.

One of the doors in the hallway is ajar and there's music music playing inside. All the lights are turned on and J's there, right in middle of the room as she dances all by herself, her lips moving silently along the song that's coming from a small portable vinyl player. Up until now, she's harshly dismissed and looked down at lip-syncing. She's always used her own voice and practised singing and dancing ever since being a young child. Although, due to her condition she hasn't been able to do her own singing for a while.

There had been months when she had even avoided touching her vinyls and records as they reminded her from something she could perhaps never do again, leaving her feel bitter and hurt. But now, due the all events and horrible experiences she, and everyone else, had gone through during the past month, she simply needed the comfort and escape from the present. The invasion and massacre of Caducans,w Witnessing deaths and killing someone herself. The violence and abuse she went through at the Runoff, forced to face the death and murder once again. And then Rinzler.

She wanted to forget about all of those but she couldn't escape from the nightmares, not even when awake, and they kept playing in her mind -- leaving her no option than turn back to Marilyn, drown herself into her.

Her eyes were shut as she let the music and the voice take her away. Her movements are fluid and smooth as she remembers each beat, step and turn -- it's almost as if there had never been a break of any kind! She might not be wearing a fancy dress or have any make up on her face as she dances inside the tiny room, but in her mind she can feel the warmth of stage lights hitting her and hear the crowd cheering at her. Just like back at New York.

However, she's brought back to the present by sharp snap sound coming from outside of the room, making her eyes open wide and stop on her tracks. There's a brief moment when all she can feel is panic and fear, freezing her still as she stares at the door. But those feelings are quickly replaced with annoyance and frustration that are directed both at herself, for getting scared so easily again, and the sound that dared to interrupt her! So, with rather hesitant steps she moves towards the door and pushes it wide open to see what was happening in the hallway.

Mettaton's caught trying to force the two halves of his mop together when he hears the door open. Turning, he faced a familiar, blonde haired lady. An exclamation point flashes briefly on his grid and he forgets about his busted mop.

"Oh! Have I startled you? Please forgive me, sweetheart, I didn't mean to be so loud!! They just don't make mops like they used to!"

Oh, he remembers J. He'd given her a rather excellent hype on the stage for Leg Con, and she'd taken the whole competition. He had yet to tell anyone. Maybe he should tell her now that she's here? Hmm.

At first J just stares with her mouth hanging open at the black box holding the two pieces of the mop. Well, she knew that some people were given robots for the chores few months ago by the Captains as rank privileges. But J didn't own one she still had a vague idea what they were supposed to look like -- and this wasn't quite it. Maybe this one was one of the earlier models?

But then the box spoke, addressing her in a way that was so personal and human-like that J dropped any thoughts of him being a chorebot. So, talking a black box with a broken mop. Sure, why not. This is hardly the weirdest thing she's seen around the ship. She can accept this.

After the moment of disbelief passes J closes her mouth and slowly gives the box a slow and clumsy nod as a sign of agreement to his statement of the mops -- feeling like a complete idiot. Luckily, she's saved by the player as the vinyl reaches it's end, casting a silence between them that only emphasises the awkwardness. Looking over her shoulder, J steps back inside her room and walks to the vinyl player and starts the track from the start.

Of course, although they had just shared quite the awkward moment, Mettaton couldn't help but wheel in after J, because he certainly needs a distraction from himself, and all the uncomfortable thoughts he'd been left with. Those thoughts had brought about the unfortunate passing of his mop anyway, so clearly he wasn't coping well. He'd thought that just being an expressionless box would suit his purpose, and that he wouldn't feel the need to converse with anyone...

But it it was never that easy. The bot was a sociable creature, and although he hadn't gotten more than a nod, he's still going to be a busybody and see what J is up to.

Besides, the music was catchy. And is she really going to kick him out?

J hears the wheel softly squeaking against the floor as the bot moves inside the room. She's not sure why the bot would even want to follow her -- didn't it have work to do or something in the hallways? -- but she still allowed it to come in, without even bothering to look at it over her shoulder or anything as her whole attention is directed at the vinyl player.

Once J's done with it a new song starts playing and she finally turns around to take a look at the bot behind her, raising a curious brow up as she examines it. Well, it's not the audience she's used to but it's still better than nothing. And it had not only addressed her just a moment ago but also called her 'sweetheart.' Sure, she can work with this.

So, when the intro part is over in the song J makes a quick spin, flashing the bot a flirty smile as she begins to dance.

If Mettaton had a choice between busywork and watching J work...well, he'd take the second option. The curious look doesn't put him off, especially not when the young woman does her flirty twirl. Ooh, she's good! Well--she was already ace before he came in here.

But her showmanship is excellent, and although he can't really join her, his damaged grid manages to flash out a bright heart of appreciation.

"Oh my, having fun, are we~?" he hums. If he was in his other form, the flirt would sound less creepy, probably. Just...let him have this, J.

"Uh oh." A familiar voice tsks from down the hall, hands resting casually in his jacket pockets. "Did Al calibrate your grip strength too tight?"

It's a joke. Or it should've been a joke. An unfortunate final memory and the endless time between it and now -- of which Sans can only appreciate in concept -- sours the words between his teeth.

Still, he steps forward. It's odd, how used to things a guy can get when he's forced to carry on this often.

"Didn't expect to see you as a rectangle, not gonna lie."

That voice.

For a guy whose sole point of balance is on a single wheel, Mettaton whirls pretty quick. A few lights might be flickering erratically, but there's definitely an exclamation point on his screen, and it's not flickering. It's solid. He is very surprised, if only because he'd almost given up any chance of seeing the short skeleton again.

"Sans?!"

Mettaton tries to think of the appropriate words as he rolls up to Sans. There are a lot of words he would like to use, surprisingly only a tenth of which are negatively charged. Eventually, he speaks.

"You certainly took your time!"

Simple. To the point. Very deeply ignoring the mop situation.

The sudden rush of metal coming his way earns little more than a barely perceptible lean back, expression even and unchanged. As always.

"Well, you know me... I take a little longer in the oven to cook through." He pokes at his incongruously large belly for emphasis before sliding his hands back into his pockets. "Miss me?"

The mop situation is only going to get worse before it gets better, MTT.

Oh, Sans. Never change.

Except maybe you could change a little. You worried your family, you worried your friends, and whatever category Mettaton fell into, he was worried too. Don't be blithe!

Man, he wishes he could say that to Sans' face. Tell him to quit being so casual when he's so important to people! But he won't. Which might come off strange, but he's been fluctuating between aggressively outgoing and reticent for a while now anyway. Welcome to the future, Sans.

"Why wouldn't I miss you?! You're my agent, and I'd like to think that we are more friends than acquaintances!! Besides which, Papyrus was obviously concerned!!"

Mop? What mop? We are talking about you, buddy.

"... Really?"

That sentiment actually startles some sincerity out of him, like an incredibly lackluster prize from a particularly stubborn pinata.

Sans couldn't help it. He didn't know Papyrus to show much outward concern to anyone but, well, him.

"He okay?"

He'll get to that agent part later, MTT. Probably. Maybe.

Maybe Mettaton had spoken out of turn by saying that. That wasn't a normal Sans response, was it? No joke, no flippancy. But still, he's not going to drop it.

"Of course he's fine! Papyrus has a way of dealing with everything in a very positive manner!! But darling, I wouldn't have gotten as far as I have if I were dense. He doesn't have to say something to still express himself about it.

You're family. He missed you! I am fairly certain you take that seriously, as you are a good brother."

Which...brings them to a more uncomfortable subject than any they were actively avoiding. MTT would rather add this one to the pile, for sure. But instead, he just gets on with it.

"By the way. I'm sorry for what happened before. During that dreadful invasion. I shouldn't have been so cross with you."

"Heh... jeez. Someone slip you a few happy pills, MTT?" He asks, rubbing the back of his skull and looking more than a little awkward. It's weird, to have someone be this nice to him -- for anyone, really. "I'm gonna get a bigger head if you keep this up."

He doesn't return the apology, though it's not clear if that's intentional or not.

"You could stand to accept a few more compliments even if it does inflate that big skull of yours," is all Mettaton says on that subject. He gets the idea that Sans didn't really...accept his apology. He can't be sure, but why else would the skeleton ignore it? Not even...comment on it?

Sigh.

"Anyway, it's good you took your time, I suppose; because you missed all the 'excitement.'"

Which he does air-quotes for, mop parts notwithstanding.

Aftermath

In My Own Little Box [Random Hallway, 8/2]

no subject

no subject

Subtlety..... what's that?

Absent, that's what.

I'm keeping that gagtag forever. It's mine now.

and me? I'm keeping this one. :)

I DON'T HAVE A STUPID ENOUGH ICON

it's ok my dude. I don't have enough angry box icons for this

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Mettaton: probably not an Eva

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

random hallway, random room. HOPE THIS OK?

Totes okay!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject