[It's not difficult for Mettaton's attention to be drawn skyward, given that he must keep his head up to look toward Hythlodaeus anyway. And as he listens, he glances to the ceiling: the revitalization of the theater brought with it the need for repairs and upkeep and the theater looks better than ever, but this one... This one has a sky Mettaton remembers seeing.
For some, seeing a starry sky is a starry sky. Aefenglom's sky is too often overwhelmed by the bright lights of the sister moons, rendering it difficult to see its stars, and Mettaton's otherwise never seen a sky mottled with stars — he comes from underground, having never seen the sun or the moon before. Visiting Amaurot was the first time he saw two things he'd always wished for: skyscrapers, and a starry sky not drowned out by the light of two moons. Its brilliance would take his breath away if he had any to spare, compared to the sky of Aefenglom. That's why he's able to connect the dots between Amaurot and this theater.
He nearly remarks upon it, until he hears Hythlodaeus's pondering. He jerks his head toward him, thrown for a loop as his ears flatten. Mettaton is a very reactive and expressive sort.]
Ah... You...
[Staring at Hythlodaeus' work, he wonders what Hades will think of it. The sort of pain it'll bring him to see this, since everything is generally felt in shades of remorse. Mettaton feels it every time, right alongside him. It could never tear him down, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it.
Even Mettaton's led to veer into some shade of sadness, though it's not because of the scene painted before him. It's that observation of Hythlodaeus', about his beloved Bondmate and the sorrows and burdens he shoulders. His expression remains forlorn, ears down.]
... He does. [And he drags his attention back to Hythlodaeus, here.] I don't think you only imagine it. You see it, don't you?
[Because when Mettaton saw the Hades in his memories, though he appeared in his native body then, Mettaton could feel the difference in even the way he carried himself. He was much the same, but to him, the Hades straight from Amaurot didn't even walk as though he hurt so much. He thinks Hythlodaeus probably sees the opposite: his friend carries himself in a way more tired than ever, no doubt. Body language means much to Mettaton.]
[It is confirmation that isn't truly necessary, for Mettaton is entirely correct in his assessment. Yet it has been offered to him in the form of a question, and so he gives the answer that Mettaton already knows.]
...I do.
[The simple admission hangs in the air, amplified by the acoustics of the stage.]
It may bring him greater sadness, to be reminded of that which he is yet unable to return to. However, I think he will think of it anyway. [At this, he lowers his head, masked gaze settling on his small friend.] He's very sentimental, you know.
[Sentimental, and perhaps somewhat prone to long stretches of contemplation that can all too easily lead to brooding.]
That is why I placed this here for him. For him to take comfort, if he might take comfort in it, or to provide a focus during those times he cannot help thinking of home. Either way, it is here if he wishes to come... and if he wishes not to come, he need not linger here. Even with the rebirth of theater yet in its infancy, there are more than a few places to which he may go if he desires to enjoy a performance.
[The robot nods. Yes, he thinks about home with or without the help of a mural painted upon a ceiling. Geardagas is a strange place where people from all times and dimensions could show up, and if anything, he wonders if it would just remind him of his friend. He hopes he feels cared about... But even that would be tinged by sadness, if that's what registered at all. In his time, Hythlodaeus is no more.
So Mettaton glances between the ceiling and the Amaurotine. It was true enough that Hades could come or go as he pleased in this auditorium — there were others he could choose. But this one...
Mettaton smiles. First at the stars, then at Hythlodaeus.]
I'd like to perform here, before him. [The idol's resolve grows by the moment, the longer he thinks upon it.] I think Hades is capable of coexisting with his memories and thoughts... and still be drawn to the present.
[A difficult task, but one Mettaton sees to with zeal. His rabbit tail flicks in his defiance of the Ascian's nature to reminisce into despair, and even his ears perk up a little more from their earlier remorse.]
Don't worry about a thing, darling. I think he'll appreciate this sight.
Hythlodaeus giving the lovebirds all his blessings
[It is reassuring, though he'll not go dwelling on his worries, least of all openly so. Instead, he returns to smiling as before, his gratitude conveyed through expression as well as words.]
It brings me great warmth to think of you performing for him here... Though I may not be around to see it, the mere thought of it occurring gives me cause for cheer.
[They will, perhaps, have to imagine his happy reactions to their budding romance, if the theories about his time here being shortened hold true, yet he is keen to not let that dissuade them from taking what happiness they can from the moments they are allowed together.]
[Mettaton's ears perk up even further, leaning at a sort of confident, content angle and even flicking a little with his cockiness.]
I'm nothing if not capable of enrapturing an audience. Hades, or otherwise.
[... Even if Hades considered the performances he saw in all of Mettaton's memories to be... Verbally, he called them "distinct." A dangerously loaded word... Mettaton is too vain to think he wouldn't have his full attention, regardless of the kind of show he were participating in. (The saving grace of being in a place so populated with other performers: Mettaton can collaborate!)
The robot spares another glance ceilingbound, trying to figure out just what he's trying to verbalize when it all strikes him at once. Nostalgic, despite being nothing like it. Looking at a ceiling full of stars reminds him so much of his own home, where the sky wasn't something he'd ever seen before. A ceiling like this, a replica of the starry sky... It'll be Hades' only rendition of his own sky, now. Still, Mettaton snickers somewhat, remembering that the only memory he'd seen of his Bonded's prior to the fall of Amaurot was one that started with him stargazing (and soul-gazing).]
To remember this sight so vividly... The both of you must have had your eyes trained skyward often.
[The thought is endearing. He used to be someone like that, even when he had no actual stars to gaze upon.]
Skyward... and into the very aether itself, though that is a sight I have refrained from putting to paint here. The medium would not do it much justice, I am sorry to say.
[If he could only share the visions his own sight gifted him with. Yet such generosity was beyond his capacity to bring to fruition here, and rather than dwell on it, he instead switches the subject to something more presently achievable, something more here and now.]
So, have you decided where you would like to go for dinner?
[Mettaton's ears spring up excitably, reeled back into the present moment where he belongs. He recalls well the way it looked to Hades, gazing upon the aether, and he would have to agree that paint couldn't capture it. Paint can't capture stars, either, but it's more than a token effort, he thought.
Nonetheless, dinner. Mettaton grows a little bouncy, bending his knees somewhat with energy he can't contain. If there's something he's known for, it's for moving, constantly. Mettaton not moving is Mettaton with a dead battery, or worse.]
There was discussion of wine, and such... Naturally, there are plenty of restaurants around here that fit the bill. There's a nice one that borders the Aristocratic District, I recall. I've never been, but it's upscale, by Aefenglom's standard. [And new things are good things, even when they're somewhat Victorian.] That's my choice. Is it agreeable?
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fuc-
For some, seeing a starry sky is a starry sky. Aefenglom's sky is too often overwhelmed by the bright lights of the sister moons, rendering it difficult to see its stars, and Mettaton's otherwise never seen a sky mottled with stars — he comes from underground, having never seen the sun or the moon before. Visiting Amaurot was the first time he saw two things he'd always wished for: skyscrapers, and a starry sky not drowned out by the light of two moons. Its brilliance would take his breath away if he had any to spare, compared to the sky of Aefenglom. That's why he's able to connect the dots between Amaurot and this theater.
He nearly remarks upon it, until he hears Hythlodaeus's pondering. He jerks his head toward him, thrown for a loop as his ears flatten. Mettaton is a very reactive and expressive sort.]
Ah... You...
[Staring at Hythlodaeus' work, he wonders what Hades will think of it. The sort of pain it'll bring him to see this, since everything is generally felt in shades of remorse. Mettaton feels it every time, right alongside him. It could never tear him down, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it.
Even Mettaton's led to veer into some shade of sadness, though it's not because of the scene painted before him. It's that observation of Hythlodaeus', about his beloved Bondmate and the sorrows and burdens he shoulders. His expression remains forlorn, ears down.]
... He does. [And he drags his attention back to Hythlodaeus, here.] I don't think you only imagine it. You see it, don't you?
[Because when Mettaton saw the Hades in his memories, though he appeared in his native body then, Mettaton could feel the difference in even the way he carried himself. He was much the same, but to him, the Hades straight from Amaurot didn't even walk as though he hurt so much. He thinks Hythlodaeus probably sees the opposite: his friend carries himself in a way more tired than ever, no doubt. Body language means much to Mettaton.]
I am so sorry for the cliffhanger!
...I do.
[The simple admission hangs in the air, amplified by the acoustics of the stage.]
It may bring him greater sadness, to be reminded of that which he is yet unable to return to. However, I think he will think of it anyway. [At this, he lowers his head, masked gaze settling on his small friend.] He's very sentimental, you know.
[Sentimental, and perhaps somewhat prone to long stretches of contemplation that can all too easily lead to brooding.]
That is why I placed this here for him. For him to take comfort, if he might take comfort in it, or to provide a focus during those times he cannot help thinking of home. Either way, it is here if he wishes to come... and if he wishes not to come, he need not linger here. Even with the rebirth of theater yet in its infancy, there are more than a few places to which he may go if he desires to enjoy a performance.
💕
So Mettaton glances between the ceiling and the Amaurotine. It was true enough that Hades could come or go as he pleased in this auditorium — there were others he could choose. But this one...
Mettaton smiles. First at the stars, then at Hythlodaeus.]
I'd like to perform here, before him. [The idol's resolve grows by the moment, the longer he thinks upon it.] I think Hades is capable of coexisting with his memories and thoughts... and still be drawn to the present.
[A difficult task, but one Mettaton sees to with zeal. His rabbit tail flicks in his defiance of the Ascian's nature to reminisce into despair, and even his ears perk up a little more from their earlier remorse.]
Don't worry about a thing, darling. I think he'll appreciate this sight.
Hythlodaeus giving the lovebirds all his blessings
[It is reassuring, though he'll not go dwelling on his worries, least of all openly so. Instead, he returns to smiling as before, his gratitude conveyed through expression as well as words.]
It brings me great warmth to think of you performing for him here... Though I may not be around to see it, the mere thought of it occurring gives me cause for cheer.
[They will, perhaps, have to imagine his happy reactions to their budding romance, if the theories about his time here being shortened hold true, yet he is keen to not let that dissuade them from taking what happiness they can from the moments they are allowed together.]
Romance him thoroughly and with zeal, my friend.
no subject
I'm nothing if not capable of enrapturing an audience. Hades, or otherwise.
[... Even if Hades considered the performances he saw in all of Mettaton's memories to be... Verbally, he called them "distinct." A dangerously loaded word... Mettaton is too vain to think he wouldn't have his full attention, regardless of the kind of show he were participating in. (The saving grace of being in a place so populated with other performers: Mettaton can collaborate!)
The robot spares another glance ceilingbound, trying to figure out just what he's trying to verbalize when it all strikes him at once. Nostalgic, despite being nothing like it. Looking at a ceiling full of stars reminds him so much of his own home, where the sky wasn't something he'd ever seen before. A ceiling like this, a replica of the starry sky... It'll be Hades' only rendition of his own sky, now. Still, Mettaton snickers somewhat, remembering that the only memory he'd seen of his Bonded's prior to the fall of Amaurot was one that started with him stargazing (and soul-gazing).]
To remember this sight so vividly... The both of you must have had your eyes trained skyward often.
[The thought is endearing. He used to be someone like that, even when he had no actual stars to gaze upon.]
no subject
[If he could only share the visions his own sight gifted him with. Yet such generosity was beyond his capacity to bring to fruition here, and rather than dwell on it, he instead switches the subject to something more presently achievable, something more here and now.]
So, have you decided where you would like to go for dinner?
no subject
[Mettaton's ears spring up excitably, reeled back into the present moment where he belongs. He recalls well the way it looked to Hades, gazing upon the aether, and he would have to agree that paint couldn't capture it. Paint can't capture stars, either, but it's more than a token effort, he thought.
Nonetheless, dinner. Mettaton grows a little bouncy, bending his knees somewhat with energy he can't contain. If there's something he's known for, it's for moving, constantly. Mettaton not moving is Mettaton with a dead battery, or worse.]
There was discussion of wine, and such... Naturally, there are plenty of restaurants around here that fit the bill. There's a nice one that borders the Aristocratic District, I recall. I've never been, but it's upscale, by Aefenglom's standard. [And new things are good things, even when they're somewhat Victorian.] That's my choice. Is it agreeable?