Calling yourself a Boss makes you a toy. Or maybe just me but it's all in good fun. Or that's what we're meant to think.
[It's probably a dead giveaway who this is now, from the leaning on the word "Boss". The Mirror idly scratches at the cross he's drawn before writing some more. Just to make the protagonist waste some time. Ahahah. It's soooo funny.]
It's me, little robot. Zacharie. I came to say hello. Hi, buenos días, bonjour. So on.
[He'd also write * It's me but that's too much for now.]
[He does know who it is before the mirror confirms it, and it makes Mettaton pause.]
Zacharie, hm? You're his mirror. Is there any particular reason you've come waltzing into my life? Or do you just want to poke fun at my position in my game?
[It's moments like these where he wishes he could see the other side of the mirror. He wonders if Mirror Zacharie looks like his real or if something is fundamentally different.]
[As far as he's willing to let anyone see, his voice is scratchy. Otherwise nothing - unless someone is stupid enough to try and take off the Mirror's mask.]
Can't make fun of you because that's me and we can't have that. There are rules to this game. I can't break them even if we all wanted that. Beings like him and me have interesting thoughts.
But I'm not here for me and just general curiosity. Like the little puppet, you seem interested in making a human out of an NPC. Or just digging into secrets. That's bad, you know. It's his biggest one.
[Mettaton raises an eyebrow at the scrawled words.]
Does reaching out to me to talk about these things count as breaking the rules? You're outside the game now. Could you not do something else, be something else?
[Though, if he thinks about it, perhaps not. He is still trapped under the Queen of Heart's influence, after all. He pauses at the rest of what the mirror wrote.]
You mean Sugar, yes? This mysterious Sugar he talked about in Neverland?
The strings say no so we can't be. Not until the end we get a moment. Rather listen to songs instead.
[The Mirror tries to stay out of the Queen's way. Don't look, don't see him, just ignore him because he doesn't want to play his role, even if the Mirror was right now. A guide who spoils most of the game.]
Her. Yes. Tender Sugar, although that's her theme. He'll never answer you. Secret in more than one way. "I guess it's better like that."
So you have no freedom whatsoever within the bounds of your home? Nothing that comes after The Player is done and the story is told?
[How utterly bleak that sounds. Of course, Mettaton has no idea of what, exactly, happens when you play a complete No Mercy run...
If Mettaton were a better person and a better friend, he would be shutting down this nonsense immediately. If Zacharie didn't want to share his secrets, than who was he to go snooping around?
But! Mettaton is not that better person. Hypocrite that he is, having suffered his secrets being told behind his back, he continues to engage.]
Did things not end happily between them? What is she to him? And, I suppose, you?
[It's nice to be able to do things like 'runs'. Here it's Worst or Slightly Less Worse. But since Mettaton's a robot of details, so he'll probably notice the hint he left. Up until that sentence, Zacharie's Mirror's spelling had been perfect, despite the chicken scratch and his...unique way of phrasing things. Capitals in all the correct places, so why did the Mirror not bother with the beginning of the sentence this time?
But that's also....quite a response he wasn't expecting. Well, not like it matters.]
My hidden boss, dear toy. To know her is to know who he is. Top to bottom, inside and out.
I can tell you. Ask.
[The Mirror has to get direct conformation to go farther. And Mettaton better be careful. Zacharie's Mirror was still Zacharie. Hopeful he's not under the impression this is free...]
[Mettaton is detail-oriented, so he notices the odd change in dictation the mirror takes. What does that mean, he wonders?
Either way, the mirror continues and Mettaton pauses before responding. This... is a lot of information to have. And he knows the regular Zacharie would be charging quite a bit for it. So he feels it's safe to ask for a price.]
And what, exactly, would you ask for in return? I doubt you offer this out of the kindness of your heart.
[The Real would have asked for limbs for this, or something just as strange. Something to put it off.
Give him a second.]
I can't do malicious things, only sell. Counterproductive.
Standing on your head is useless so let's try something else. Can you pass a message to my Real? A little long but the meaning is long. You can solve it too if you want.
[Frisk had gone through with it but he wonders if this one would too.]
If you think a salesman can't be malicious, you must have had very little interaction with other shopkeeps.
[Not to say anyone in the Underground was bad, oh no. All of the Monster shopkeeps were very pleasant and sweet and forthright with you! It's when they got to the surface that a lot of Monsters realized that not every store was looking out for their well-being.]
A message to your Real? Is Zacharie not answering your calls, so to speak?
[Should he do this? Is it worth the information? ...He cares for Zacharie, yes, but surely knowing this sort of thing is harmless, right?
He may not pass on the message though. Whatever his mirror's intentions are, Mettaton doesn't want to put Zacharie in a tight spot.]
[Sassing is fine, Mettaton just might not like the answer.]
Tuer, tuer, tuer.
Watch out for the dead.
Crush the bones and turn them into fine powder.
[Then he stops and continues as if he never wrote any of that. The Mirror isn't going to answer questions regarding it either.]
She is his heart. Hidden in a basement and like you. She can answer any question you may have of him. His name, face and heart. That sweet girl found the human in the NPC.
Mettaton shivers as he reads the words, his mind unwittingly flashing to dust in a jar. He shakes his head. He doesn't want to ask. He's too afraid of what he might get.
Then he gets what he paid for and his eyebrows raise as he reads the mirror's words curiously.]
So she was a Boss Battle? Did she not... make it in your and your Real's timeline?
[The concept of a battle always being destined to end in death is not something he truly understands.]
[He can sense the mirror's confusion in his scribbled writing, so he attempts to clarify.]
You know, timelines! Hm. Different ways your game could have gone! For example, I am from a timeline where no one died! Where The Human stayed their hand and, together with the Player, showed us all Mercy! A friend of mine from the same world is from a version of the story where The Human chose the opposite path.
[Mettaton has no idea how this knowledge will affect the mirror. Surely it won't be that bad?]
[....mercy. A game...where the Player could choose to give mercy to everyone? There was a game where something like that was possible...?
Things could have been fine and it would have just been a beautiful day and Sucre wouldn't have died and I hate you all so much stop playing this game please let us go just let The Batter kill us it's good that you kill them I'm begging you just stop stop STOP JUST LET US ALL DIE PLEASE KILL ME
It's a long time before the Mirror responds again. He brought along a paint bucket in case he needed a way to break the mirror on his side. Guess there's another use for it. The Mirror dips his fingers into the bright red paint and writes a message.]
[At first the robot thinks that perhaps that was enough. Perhaps Zacharie’s mirror was satisfied with his answer, and that their conversation is over. But then he sees writing return and- …wow.
Wow, did this guy seriously bring red paint for this? Did he prepare for this level of spooky? While, yes, on one hand Mettaton is a… tad disturbed by this development, he also feels vague amusement. Zacharie’s mirror seems to have a small flair for dramatics just like him. (Though small is not the word I would use to describe Mettaton’s ways.)
Past that, however, it takes him in kind a few moments to respond. He reads over the words on his mirror and is honestly…puzzled.]
No Mercy? None at all? Your Puppeteer has no choice?
[How? How is that possible? He doesn’t understand.]
How can there be no other outcomes? How can it be set in stone like that, how can…
[His eyes grow wide in horror as he thinks of how it could have been with him. How there could have been a world where no matter the circumstances, no matter the intent of The Player and Frisk’s SOUL, he would have died. He would never have gotten to the Surface, would never have seen his dreams come to life, or the dreams of everyone around him…
He sits back from the mirror.]
You mean to tell me that if my game were like yours, Frisk would always kill us? That even if they wanted to do something different, there would only be that end? That instead of only a few of us here who remember a time like that, it would be all of us?
[He’s schooling the panic out of his voice pretty successfully, except for the slightest hiccup towards the end of his sentence.]
[He knows it's for flair but it's eye catching. Good for awful implications, which the robot seems to be working out in his head. Good. It gives the Mirror time to calm down and find his marker again.
Silly, isn't it? To want such things, to be concerned about the endings even though you're just the merchant. To want it all to just end.]
[Your purpose, huh? What was Mettaton's purpose? He always thought it was to entertain, but within the game it was to be a boss fight. To continue the story. But afterwards he was free to be anything and could choose it! Right? Nothing could take that away.
At least he thought so. He never considered that even after everything is over, he's still bound to the, heh, Mercy of the one in charge.
He pulls away from the mirror, angry.]
No. Things can be changed. If there is one thing from home I've learned, it's that your choices matter. Your home may be bleak, but mine never will be.
[He pulls the blanket back over the mirror with a swift movement. He sounded confident. Unshakeable. If only he felt that way.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
:D
Date: 2016-11-29 03:24 am (UTC)[It's probably a dead giveaway who this is now, from the leaning on the word "Boss". The Mirror idly scratches at the cross he's drawn before writing some more. Just to make the protagonist waste some time. Ahahah. It's soooo funny.]
It's me, little robot. Zacharie. I came to say hello. Hi, buenos días, bonjour. So on.
[He'd also write * It's me but that's too much for now.]
:D!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Date: 2016-12-02 05:23 am (UTC)Zacharie, hm? You're his mirror. Is there any particular reason you've come waltzing into my life? Or do you just want to poke fun at my position in my game?
[It's moments like these where he wishes he could see the other side of the mirror. He wonders if Mirror Zacharie looks like his real or if something is fundamentally different.]
no subject
Date: 2016-12-02 08:49 am (UTC)Can't make fun of you because that's me and we can't have that. There are rules to this game. I can't break them even if we all wanted that. Beings like him and me have interesting thoughts.
But I'm not here for me and just general curiosity. Like the little puppet, you seem interested in making a human out of an NPC. Or just digging into secrets. That's bad, you know. It's his biggest one.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-03 09:24 pm (UTC)Does reaching out to me to talk about these things count as breaking the rules? You're outside the game now. Could you not do something else, be something else?
[Though, if he thinks about it, perhaps not. He is still trapped under the Queen of Heart's influence, after all. He pauses at the rest of what the mirror wrote.]
You mean Sugar, yes? This mysterious Sugar he talked about in Neverland?
no subject
Date: 2016-12-04 02:08 am (UTC)[The Mirror tries to stay out of the Queen's way. Don't look, don't see him, just ignore him because he doesn't want to play his role, even if the Mirror was right now. A guide who spoils most of the game.]
Her. Yes. Tender Sugar, although that's her theme. He'll never answer you. Secret in more than one way. "I guess it's better like that."
[They all say it.]
no subject
Date: 2016-12-06 04:17 am (UTC)[How utterly bleak that sounds. Of course, Mettaton has no idea of what, exactly, happens when you play a complete No Mercy run...
If Mettaton were a better person and a better friend, he would be shutting down this nonsense immediately. If Zacharie didn't want to share his secrets, than who was he to go snooping around?
But! Mettaton is not that better person. Hypocrite that he is, having suffered his secrets being told behind his back, he continues to engage.]
Did things not end happily between them? What is she to him? And, I suppose, you?
no subject
Date: 2016-12-06 04:40 am (UTC)[It's nice to be able to do things like 'runs'. Here it's Worst or Slightly Less Worse. But since Mettaton's a robot of details, so he'll probably notice the hint he left. Up until that sentence, Zacharie's Mirror's spelling had been perfect, despite the chicken scratch and his...unique way of phrasing things. Capitals in all the correct places, so why did the Mirror not bother with the beginning of the sentence this time?
But that's also....quite a response he wasn't expecting. Well, not like it matters.]
My hidden boss, dear toy. To know her is to know who he is. Top to bottom, inside and out.
I can tell you. Ask.
[The Mirror has to get direct conformation to go farther. And Mettaton better be careful. Zacharie's Mirror was still Zacharie. Hopeful he's not under the impression this is free...]
no subject
Date: 2016-12-09 03:59 am (UTC)Either way, the mirror continues and Mettaton pauses before responding. This... is a lot of information to have. And he knows the regular Zacharie would be charging quite a bit for it. So he feels it's safe to ask for a price.]
And what, exactly, would you ask for in return? I doubt you offer this out of the kindness of your heart.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-10 01:29 am (UTC)Give him a second.]
I can't do malicious things, only sell. Counterproductive.
Standing on your head is useless so let's try something else. Can you pass a message to my Real? A little long but the meaning is long. You can solve it too if you want.
[Frisk had gone through with it but he wonders if this one would too.]
no subject
Date: 2016-12-10 05:26 am (UTC)If you think a salesman can't be malicious, you must have had very little interaction with other shopkeeps.
[Not to say anyone in the Underground was bad, oh no. All of the Monster shopkeeps were very pleasant and sweet and forthright with you! It's when they got to the surface that a lot of Monsters realized that not every store was looking out for their well-being.]
A message to your Real? Is Zacharie not answering your calls, so to speak?
[Should he do this? Is it worth the information? ...He cares for Zacharie, yes, but surely knowing this sort of thing is harmless, right?
He may not pass on the message though. Whatever his mirror's intentions are, Mettaton doesn't want to put Zacharie in a tight spot.]
What message do you want me to give him?
no subject
Date: 2016-12-12 12:02 am (UTC)There is nothing to fear from me but Nothing.
[Again with that. 'Nothing'.]
The little puppet passed on the first and avoided the rest. I want to be clear.
[The Mirror switches to an orange marker to write out his message: "Mirum Videtur Guod Sit Factum Iam Diu".
The Mirror knows Zacharie can translate it easily, if the message is delivered: "Does it seem wonderful merely because it was done so long ago?"]
Say it, write it, carve it in his skin. It's your choice.
Sound fair?
no subject
Date: 2016-12-12 02:05 am (UTC)[He may be a bit more open to listening to his own mirror, but that doesn't mean he won't sass other ones.]
...Sounds fair.
[What does that mean? Perhaps he'll devote some time to deciphering it some time in the future.]
Now, tell me about this Sugar.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-12 02:13 am (UTC)Tuer, tuer, tuer.
Watch out for the dead.
Crush the bones and turn them into fine powder.
[Then he stops and continues as if he never wrote any of that. The Mirror isn't going to answer questions regarding it either.]
She is his heart. Hidden in a basement and like you. She can answer any question you may have of him. His name, face and heart. That sweet girl found the human in the NPC.
And she too was found.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-13 12:39 am (UTC)Mettaton shivers as he reads the words, his mind unwittingly flashing to dust in a jar. He shakes his head. He doesn't want to ask. He's too afraid of what he might get.
Then he gets what he paid for and his eyebrows raise as he reads the mirror's words curiously.]
So she was a Boss Battle? Did she not... make it in your and your Real's timeline?
[The concept of a battle always being destined to end in death is not something he truly understands.]
no subject
Date: 2016-12-13 02:04 am (UTC)Hidden. Could have been missed.
Was found.
The big, frightening ducky always wins.
Timelines. What timeline?
[What do you mean Mettaton? What do you mean?]
no subject
Date: 2016-12-14 02:04 am (UTC)You know, timelines! Hm. Different ways your game could have gone! For example, I am from a timeline where no one died! Where The Human stayed their hand and, together with the Player, showed us all Mercy! A friend of mine from the same world is from a version of the story where The Human chose the opposite path.
[Mettaton has no idea how this knowledge will affect the mirror. Surely it won't be that bad?]
cw for suicidal ideation
Date: 2016-12-14 02:34 am (UTC)Things could have been fine and it would have just been a beautiful day and Sucre wouldn't have died and I hate you all so much stop playing this game please let us go just let The Batter kill us it's good that you kill them I'm begging you just stop stop STOP JUST LET US ALL DIE PLEASE KILL ME
It's a long time before the Mirror responds again. He brought along a paint bucket in case he needed a way to break the mirror on his side. Guess there's another use for it. The Mirror dips his fingers into the bright red paint and writes a message.]
There is no such thing as mercy in this game.
She was found. She lost.
The Puppeteer moved on.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-17 09:39 pm (UTC)Wow, did this guy seriously bring red paint for this? Did he prepare for this level of spooky? While, yes, on one hand Mettaton is a… tad disturbed by this development, he also feels vague amusement. Zacharie’s mirror seems to have a small flair for dramatics just like him. (Though small is not the word I would use to describe Mettaton’s ways.)
Past that, however, it takes him in kind a few moments to respond. He reads over the words on his mirror and is honestly…puzzled.]
No Mercy? None at all? Your Puppeteer has no choice?
[How? How is that possible? He doesn’t understand.]
How can there be no other outcomes? How can it be set in stone like that, how can…
[His eyes grow wide in horror as he thinks of how it could have been with him. How there could have been a world where no matter the circumstances, no matter the intent of The Player and Frisk’s SOUL, he would have died. He would never have gotten to the Surface, would never have seen his dreams come to life, or the dreams of everyone around him…
He sits back from the mirror.]
You mean to tell me that if my game were like yours, Frisk would always kill us? That even if they wanted to do something different, there would only be that end? That instead of only a few of us here who remember a time like that, it would be all of us?
[He’s schooling the panic out of his voice pretty successfully, except for the slightest hiccup towards the end of his sentence.]
no subject
Date: 2016-12-17 10:01 pm (UTC)Silly, isn't it? To want such things, to be concerned about the endings even though you're just the merchant. To want it all to just end.]
Two outcomes. The Puppeteer chooses.
Now or Eventually.
No way around it.
Escaping from your purpose is impossible.
[And that's the end of that.]
no subject
Date: 2016-12-21 01:17 am (UTC)At least he thought so. He never considered that even after everything is over, he's still bound to the, heh, Mercy of the one in charge.
He pulls away from the mirror, angry.]
No. Things can be changed. If there is one thing from home I've learned, it's that your choices matter. Your home may be bleak, but mine never will be.
[He pulls the blanket back over the mirror with a swift movement. He sounded confident. Unshakeable. If only he felt that way.]