[the poinsettas serve to placate, their magical effects a balm over startle. it's not something mettaton takes any active notice of when he's busy glancing around, seated in flowers of red and white. especially when his sense for magic seems dulled, which is a surprise, as someone made of magic himself.
it's not the first time he's woken in a strange place with no recollection of how he got here. it's not even the second. but it is the first time he's awoken while still remembering the other strange worlds he's been abruptly pulled to—just like this.
gaze drifting skyward, the robotic idol wears an expression unusually vacant for him. his fingers curl in the dirt; he lifts his foot, and digs his heel against his other toe. he feels a dull poke. he wished for something... he'd been properly asleep. but this didn't feel right at all. in nippon, where he'd just been, he could feel things. like the stab of his high-heeled boot.
--unless you like having fur, comes an interruption of a voice. a welcome interruption, MTT decides quickly. with a mechanical turn of his head, mettaton affixes geto with his heavily-lidded gaze. he glances down at himself. there's no fur on his body anymore...]
The golden one. ... And, are you some sort of expert, darling? [never mind his need to collect his thoughts for now. mettaton smiles, coy and sharp.] Is that where you sourced your ears and tail from? But it's such a good look on you!
[his lips are yet pulled into a slight smile at best, as he casts his attention down to the potions, then back to geto.]
It doesn't come at your recommendation. Yet, I can't help but feel you don't mind it...
poinsettia
it's not the first time he's woken in a strange place with no recollection of how he got here. it's not even the second. but it is the first time he's awoken while still remembering the other strange worlds he's been abruptly pulled to—just like this.
gaze drifting skyward, the robotic idol wears an expression unusually vacant for him. his fingers curl in the dirt; he lifts his foot, and digs his heel against his other toe. he feels a dull poke. he wished for something... he'd been properly asleep. but this didn't feel right at all. in nippon, where he'd just been, he could feel things. like the stab of his high-heeled boot.
--unless you like having fur, comes an interruption of a voice. a welcome interruption, MTT decides quickly. with a mechanical turn of his head, mettaton affixes geto with his heavily-lidded gaze. he glances down at himself. there's no fur on his body anymore...]
The golden one. ... And, are you some sort of expert, darling? [never mind his need to collect his thoughts for now. mettaton smiles, coy and sharp.] Is that where you sourced your ears and tail from? But it's such a good look on you!
[his lips are yet pulled into a slight smile at best, as he casts his attention down to the potions, then back to geto.]
It doesn't come at your recommendation. Yet, I can't help but feel you don't mind it...