[...But it's two days late for Modranicht. A present awaits Alphys wrapped in a picture-perfect "present" box with red ribbon, one that resembles a bomban Earthbound present something one might see on TV. Within the box is a dress of a cutesypersuasion.
There's a note attached to it. The note is written in a familiar, curly, perfectly legible script.]
Dear Alphys,
Happy EX-mas! Or Modranicht. Same thing, but with a marked reduction in frenzied seasonal spending. Not on my watch.
Sorry that this gift made it to you late. You know how it is. But I hope you enjoy it. I had it fitted especially for you. I don't know if you could pull it off as FABULOUSLY as me (that's an impossible standard), but you'll look absolutely darling in it. I wanted something brighter, more pink, but that's not in style here in Aefenglom! Soon, that'll change. I have some expectations for Aefenglom's fashion trends, and this will be perfectly en vogue for the following year.
If you need it tailored for whatever type of Turnskin you're becoming, I'll have it taken care of... But I don't expect it to be a problem, unless Turnskins sprout wings. Dresses are very forgiving for all kinds of lower-body transformations, I find. Such as going from a single pole, to a pair of dreamy legs.
-MTT
[Mettaton, stellar friend: "MY FRIEND ALPHYS, THE TURNSKIN, AND DEFINITELY NOT A FAUN. I KNOW WHAT MY FRIEND IS BECOMING WITH COMPLETE CERTAINTY AFTER TELLING HER SHE'S NOT A CAT GIRL."]
P.S. About the way I spoke to you earlier this month... I hope you won't hold it against me. Since you know how full moons are. We were both a bit out of our minds, weren't we? Ha ha.
[On the day of the holiday, a plate of homemade cookies and a sample of herbal tea mysteriously appears on her doorstep. The wrapping is decorated with a fresh lily flower (actually a Fae magic product, designed to fade away from existence in a few hours) and a ribbon. The attached handwritten note reads as follows:]
Happy Modranicht! Let’s have another great year here in Aefenglom!
[It was into the night on the 15th or so when their Bond seemed to dissolve so suddenly into nothing. When a Bondmate dies, the last emotion they feel rings strong and true to their Bonded, and in Mettaton's case, it's aggression, fear, and dread, all of the trappings of a defensive animal.
That was then, and since, he hasn't stirred. It was only by nearly late on the 17th that he stirs to life, but their Bond is hollow, barely there at all.]
[Alphys has felt those emotions before, usually in waking in a cold sweat from a guilt-fueled nightmare in her old bedroom in the Hotland lab. But it's been a while since then, and even though the sensation is familiar, the sudden dread hits her like a truck. And Mettaton... she can't really feel him anymore like she could before. That's... that's bad, right? The fact that she's unable to contact him for a few days just adds to her general anxiety. But then she gets the message and she can't reply fast enough.]
I'm alright now. Though I hear you must've gotten quite the startle through our Bond, thanks to my latest daring endeavors. Battling the Cwyld. Partaking in cult activities, against my will! Oh my. And in my final act... I died out in the Wilde!!
Not that there was anyone there to watch, save for my merciful killer.
[Mettaton is surprisingly lackluster in the drama department about the whole thing. Maybe it's because the actual event was SO dramatic that he can't even muster the exuberance to retell it with verve. (He's also freshly resurrected and can't move very well.)
This is the short version with most of the awful parts left out.]
I'm alive now. The Coven can revive even souls like ours... Incredible, isn't it?
I'm alright... However. These nurses wouldn't even wash me off. I was covered in dirt and stuff, until I sought outside help. And! They shocked me when I woke! Talk about TERRIBLE hospitality. The nerve.
[Making light of terrible things again! To be perfectly fair to the Witches and nurses, they don't understand that MTT can tolerate water without exploding or something. They're not used to robots.]
Lunch. Alphys... No, I'm not especially hungry. But thank you, darling. If you'd like to visit... I wouldn't mind. Oh, god. Maybe you can bring me a mirror, and a hairbrush??
[Mettaton doesn't even have the energy much to reply to her message, so he just collapses back against the bed until she arrives, where he musters the energy to sit back up.
Mettaton offers Alphys a smile. But oh, god. His hair is a rat's nest of tangles, clods of dirt, and dried... blood?? if all of the flecks of brownish-red all over his body are any indication. He's a horrible mess.
So un-glamorous. ONLY Alphys can see this mess, and even then a twinge of a grimace flashes on his features, knowing what she's beholding. But he's quick to brighten at the sight of actual hairbrushes, and mirrors.]
Oh, Alphys! You went above and beyond. You're my hero!
[Mettaton works to clap his hands together in front of him. But the Faun may notice next that he has company: a man is practically unconscious, laying under the blankets and tucked under Mettaton's arm.
He doesn't stir. Not even when Mettaton makes grabby hands for the brush and the mirror.]
I haven't gotten a chance to see how awful I look, but I've been told it's absolutely harrowing. Death is ugly, no matter how pretty I am! Would you mind, darling...?
[So there's just a lot of stuff here to react to, and Mettaton's more focused on his hair. Yeahhh ★]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
10/13
Hypothetically.
[Is the timing coincidental? Gee.]
Modranicht gift
“Happy Holidays! We are not friends yet but I hope we can become friends in the coming year.” is what the attached note says]
Modranicht gift
a bomban Earthbound presentsomething one might see on TV. Within the box is a dress of a cutesy persuasion.There's a note attached to it. The note is written in a familiar, curly, perfectly legible script.]
Dear Alphys,
Happy EX-mas! Or Modranicht. Same thing, but with a marked reduction in frenzied seasonal spending. Not on my watch.
Sorry that this gift made it to you late. You know how it is. But I hope you enjoy it. I had it fitted especially for you. I don't know if you could pull it off as FABULOUSLY as me (that's an impossible standard), but you'll look absolutely darling in it. I wanted something brighter, more pink, but that's not in style here in Aefenglom! Soon, that'll change. I have some expectations for Aefenglom's fashion trends, and this will be perfectly en vogue for the following year.
If you need it tailored for whatever type of Turnskin you're becoming, I'll have it taken care of... But I don't expect it to be a problem, unless Turnskins sprout wings. Dresses are very forgiving for all kinds of lower-body transformations, I find. Such as going from a single pole, to a pair of dreamy legs.
-MTT
[Mettaton, stellar friend: "MY FRIEND ALPHYS, THE TURNSKIN, AND DEFINITELY NOT A FAUN. I KNOW WHAT MY FRIEND IS BECOMING WITH COMPLETE CERTAINTY AFTER TELLING HER SHE'S NOT A CAT GIRL."]
P.S. About the way I spoke to you earlier this month... I hope you won't hold it against me. Since you know how full moons are. We were both a bit out of our minds, weren't we? Ha ha.
Modranicht gift
Happy Modranicht! Let’s have another great year here in Aefenglom!
M⚜️
~17th-18thish
That was then, and since, he hasn't stirred. It was only by nearly late on the 17th that he stirs to life, but their Bond is hollow, barely there at all.]
Alphys, hey. Are you there?
no subject
mettaton!?!? are you OK???
no subject
Not that there was anyone there to watch, save for my merciful killer.
[Mettaton is surprisingly lackluster in the drama department about the whole thing. Maybe it's because the actual event was SO dramatic that he can't even muster the exuberance to retell it with verve. (He's also freshly resurrected and can't move very well.)
This is the short version with most of the awful parts left out.]
I'm alive now. The Coven can revive even souls like ours... Incredible, isn't it?
no subject
[Sometimes its hard to parse someone's tone through text. This is not one of those times.]
are you ok!? i mean i know you're ALIVE now but all of that sounds HORRIBLE oh my god
do you
do you need anything i can bring you lunch or something
[she's helping]
no subject
[Making light of terrible things again! To be perfectly fair to the Witches and nurses, they don't understand that MTT can tolerate water without exploding or something. They're not used to robots.]
Lunch. Alphys... No, I'm not especially hungry. But thank you, darling. If you'd like to visit... I wouldn't mind. Oh, god. Maybe you can bring me a mirror, and a hairbrush??
text -> action
[Sure enough, Alphys arrives a short while later, with several hand mirrors and brushes in her arms, of various sizes and bristle types.]
I-I-I wasn't sure which ones you'd prefer so I got all of them!
no subject
Mettaton offers Alphys a smile. But oh, god. His hair is a rat's nest of tangles, clods of dirt, and dried... blood?? if all of the flecks of brownish-red all over his body are any indication. He's a horrible mess.
So un-glamorous. ONLY Alphys can see this mess, and even then a twinge of a grimace flashes on his features, knowing what she's beholding. But he's quick to brighten at the sight of actual hairbrushes, and mirrors.]
Oh, Alphys! You went above and beyond. You're my hero!
[Mettaton works to clap his hands together in front of him. But the Faun may notice next that he has company: a man is practically unconscious, laying under the blankets and tucked under Mettaton's arm.
He doesn't stir. Not even when Mettaton makes grabby hands for the brush and the mirror.]
I haven't gotten a chance to see how awful I look, but I've been told it's absolutely harrowing. Death is ugly, no matter how pretty I am! Would you mind, darling...?
[So there's just a lot of stuff here to react to, and Mettaton's more focused on his hair. Yeahhh ★]