[It's voice, left as a message. Because typing with one hand is actually quite hard.]
Eren-darling, hello! [It's Mettaton. He doesn't say this.] Listen. How about striking a deal with me... and trading my arm for a BEAUTIFUL knife I've gotten my SINGULAR hand on??
If that's your style - and I know it is! - come meet me on the street corner outside of the orphanage you generously purchased, at four in the afternoon. Well, toodles!
[And at that time awaits Mettaton... and visible or not, it might also bear the hints of Mikasa afoot. What could this be about?]
[ this message is heard for the most part, now mettaton would have to wait to see if it worked—oh, wait.
nevermind, you don’t need to wait! with the magic word said, the dragon is waiting outside in the designated area, an hour earlier than notified to be, and with a metal arm hanging around in his lap where he sat. he’s waiting. ]
[Mikasa's scent was light. It was still a little strong to have been lingering from close contact with the puca...unless he'd like, carried her around. But that had to have been it surely.
After all the fae was focusing almost completely on her illusion. The one that she wasn't there, hiding her from view, dampening her sound. The scent though, she was trying.
But she had her watch ready. Staying close to Mettaton.]
[So Eren gets there first, which means that he has the upper hand (ha ha, get it...) with regards to standing his ground. Mikasa appears by Mettaton's side, but not at all, only by the barest of scent. Who knows? Maybe it's just traces of her lingering on the Puca's person. Otherwise, Mettaton smells like ozone, like electricity, like... sweets?
But more than all of that might be the smell of a house fire, because he sure smells like that, very strongly. It might even be overpowering, even. Maybe that's how Mikasa's illusion could be so effective: Mettaton smells like a goddamn house fire, all of that ozone and electricity aside.
His eye widens in surprise upon spotting Eren, and it's hard to tell if there's fear there when he smiles tightly at him before flashing his teeth. With his one hand, he waves. And there, in the only hand he has (that he is also waving with), is a long, thin box. Perfectly knife-sized.]
Eren, darling! There you are. And I see you even have my arm! Just as I thought. [He pauses a beat, still talking from across the barren street. (Mikasa, he is aware, should be close to his hip... though he can't see her.)] Did you know? A Puca's able to hone in on objects, and tell where they are... even without seeing them! Useful, right? Ha-ha.
[Mettaton's talent is filling the room with talk. Even if the room is the whole outside world, apparently. This is not a nervous habit: his nerves are not manifest as he stares at the Dragon who'd attacked him the night before. There's another heavy pause as he holds the box in front of him. His arm socket sparks.]
Well...? Do you have anything to say? As I can't help but notice that, unless you're threatening to consume me, you've been awfully quiet toward me.
[Not even replying to his messages about his missing arm! Mettaton's gaze is sharp past his smile.]
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11/01 aftanoon; voice
Eren-darling, hello! [It's Mettaton. He doesn't say this.] Listen. How about striking a deal with me... and trading my arm for a BEAUTIFUL knife I've gotten my SINGULAR hand on??
If that's your style - and I know it is! - come meet me on the street corner outside of the orphanage you generously purchased, at four in the afternoon. Well, toodles!
[And at that time awaits Mettaton... and visible or not, it might also bear the hints of Mikasa afoot. What could this be about?]
no subject
nevermind, you don’t need to wait! with the magic word said, the dragon is waiting outside in the designated area, an hour earlier than notified to be, and with a metal arm hanging around in his lap where he sat. he’s waiting. ]
no subject
After all the fae was focusing almost completely on her illusion. The one that she wasn't there, hiding her from view, dampening her sound. The scent though, she was trying.
But she had her watch ready. Staying close to Mettaton.]
no subject
But more than all of that might be the smell of a house fire, because he sure smells like that, very strongly. It might even be overpowering, even. Maybe that's how Mikasa's illusion could be so effective: Mettaton smells like a goddamn house fire, all of that ozone and electricity aside.
His eye widens in surprise upon spotting Eren, and it's hard to tell if there's fear there when he smiles tightly at him before flashing his teeth. With his one hand, he waves. And there, in the only hand he has (that he is also waving with), is a long, thin box. Perfectly knife-sized.]
Eren, darling! There you are. And I see you even have my arm! Just as I thought. [He pauses a beat, still talking from across the barren street. (Mikasa, he is aware, should be close to his hip... though he can't see her.)] Did you know? A Puca's able to hone in on objects, and tell where they are... even without seeing them! Useful, right? Ha-ha.
[Mettaton's talent is filling the room with talk. Even if the room is the whole outside world, apparently. This is not a nervous habit: his nerves are not manifest as he stares at the Dragon who'd attacked him the night before. There's another heavy pause as he holds the box in front of him. His arm socket sparks.]
Well...? Do you have anything to say? As I can't help but notice that, unless you're threatening to consume me, you've been awfully quiet toward me.
[Not even replying to his messages about his missing arm! Mettaton's gaze is sharp past his smile.]
no subject