aftr_stories | [MU] - AUGUST STORYTELLING

This should, as of the last dream, be a far more familiar setting than it was prior. The flames flicker with an almost hypnotic effect, and round slabs of driftwood form log-like seats around the bonfire. This time, however, you are not alone with the elephant or rabbit or dog or Storyteller in the room - and they are in the room, taking whatever shape they deem most suitable for the situation.

This dream is shared.

One by one, you will each have the opportunity to share your stories. Stories have a certain power that cannot be replicated or cast aside. As far as those for whom this is their first Storytelling, the Storyteller will not require that the story itself take place in LifeAftr, though all Storytellings from this point onward will.

If you prefer to keep your mouth shut, that's always an option, though you're more liable to benefit if you do. Perhaps you'd rather not relive any of your history, varied and variegated as it must be. Or maybe you're something of a compulsive un-truther, prone to embellishments and long, fanciful tangents. As long as the core of the story is true to its spirit, you are free to spin your tale however you like. Longer, more entertaining anecdotes will be far more appreciated - and, indeed, useful, - than the verbal equivalent of a third grader's "What I Did On Summer Vacation" essay.

So choose your tale wisely.

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Isn't that an interesting story.

[That's all Mettaton offers. Because he doesn't really know too much to discern what's true, what isn't, or whether the whole tale was a lie. Actually, what he's most interested in is gauging Chara's responses, and holding a conversation with them to see who they really were.

Because Mettaton has a very deep seated distrust for small human children in striped shirts right now.

But he'll be civil to test the waters.]

I'm curious however, as to what other trickery the children got up to, if they were thusly banned from using the kitchen. You imply that there were workarounds.

[The corner of his mouth quirks up, as if he is amused. Entranced by the tale, even!]

I want to hear more stories, if you have the inclination to share them.

[Mettaton sounds sincere, but...to someone who might have a better understanding of his personality, this is more than a little out of character.]

[Ah.

It's been a long while, since they've seen him. Flitting in and out of the castle like (ha ha) a ghost- there one moment, and gone the next. They hadn't interacted with him, there. Gone out of their way to ensure they didn't; their mother would certainly have questions, if they were to be accused of ripping a robotic fool to pieces.

Alas. They can't simply act upon that urge here, either.]

You'd be correct, sir. There were always workarounds. However, those aren't a part of this story, and I'm afraid I do not feel inclined to tell them, just yet.

[A smile. It doesn't bode well.]

I do have another, more fanciful tale, should you like to hear it.

["Sir." Oh, how polite of them. That doesn't sound in the least out of place when referring to him. And of course they shoot him down at first, but then...then the human relents to tell him something. Good.]

Oh, certainly! I would adore another story.

[He smiles back, and the floor is theirs. What does a little child have to tell a big robot star like him? What do they have to say that Asriel might not have told him by now, because of course they weren't as close of friends as two siblings could ever be.

Tell him, child. Take him on a journey.]

Wonderful. Let me see...

[They shift, turning their body towards him and settling back into their cross-legged position, folding their hands in their lap.

Close to their boots, and the knives hidden against their ankles.]

This is the story of the narcissistic duckling.

[Ah. Haha...

Mettaton's smile falters for a moment. Not that he even for a moment believes that they'd dare to tell a story which would expose him. Of course they wouldn't.

They weren't that stupid, were they?

The worst that they could do was to judge him, and he's had plenty of that. How terrible could it be?]

Go on, then. Don't waste my time, sweetheart.

[Oh- familiar with this story, is he?

What a pleasant surprise.]

Once upon a time, there was a duckling who did not want to be a duckling. 'I am meant for far great things!' The duckling thought. 'I should be a peacock, not some lowly duckling in a backwater pond!'

And yet, the duckling did not know how to become a peacock. And so he stayed with his family on their farm as the years drifted by, in a haze of dull passing.

[Mettaton isn't smiling anymore. Instead, his teeth are grit in a painful grimace and his gloved fingers are balled into fists so tight he could feel the metal straining. This has ceased to be amusing, or even educational.

He has to keep his cool though. He has to keep that outward appearance of not a murderer he's not a murderer what happened wasn't his fault and it's not even relevant--]

How...intriguing.

[For an actor, he's really not doing too well at hiding precisely how this makes him feel. A testament to his skills, undoubtedly- and certainly nothing to complain over.

They always knew he was terrible at his job. If anything, their smile just gets wider, clearly enjoying the internal struggle their audience is playing out.]

Quite. One day, however, the duckling met a very eccentric lizard. Though the lizard was quite a nervous thing, they somehow struck up a friendship- no doubt due to their mutual love of peacocks.

Which was when the lizard, with skills beyond that of most, offered the duckling a grand gift indeed. "I-I c-could- I mean. With the proper! Equipment! You could be-!" The lizard stuttered, "You could be a peacock!"

The choice the duckling made, of course, was obvious. Giving up on his dream, when it was so suddenly within his grasp? Perish the thought!

And so, the duckling left it all behind. His belongings. His past life.

And his family. Without a word, he disappeared off into the world, becoming the peacock he had always desired to be. The narcissistic, selfish peacock was finally able to show his true colors.

Those of a flashy, self-centric fool who would, and did, crush the hearts of those closest to him with no qualms, so long as he got what he wanted at the end.

A truly wonderful story, don't you agree? How good, that no such duckling exists.

Edited 2017-09-01 07:46 (UTC)

[Mettaton listens, of course. He has no choice, he's set himself up in this now, and if this is how Chara chooses to stand, then who is he to stop them? Who, indeed?

They're just a nasty little child.

A terrible little kid whose job it was to hurt monsters, because that is apparently all that the human race is good for. How pitiful, that the peacock should fall so abruptly, his wings clipped damn near to the bone and reminded what his kind feared. To be plucked and beaten until not a single flashy color remained, and he was relegated to the role of a sad little duckling.

...But not quite. Maybe he couldn't act to their standards, but he could still fire back within this abstract rhetoric, couldn't he? It mightn't bother them. But Mettaton had learned long ago that holding his tongue for the benefit of others did little more than weigh his SOUL with despair.

Never again.]

An interesting story, I give you that. What a pitiful peacock that was, and so he truly would have deserved any ill fate he might garner, right?

Except at the point where perhaps the peacock might have found that he ought to have paid for his success properly, once he was there. Once he was alone at the top of that platform.

And maybe then, the peacock would have to fear danger of a rabid little stray attacking his home, sentencing everyone he cared for to a quick and untimely death. Perhaps he would have expended effort to claw the dog's eyes out, if he was ever able to do so.

But of course, it's just a story, right? The ending is up to us.

[He laughed, but it was a mirthless sound.]

It sounds like hindsight for the miserable peacock was 20/20.

[Do you really think that absolves you of your sins, Mettaton? Do you think they'll judge you more kindly, just because you have a child killer to throw under the bus? How good of you, to pin your faults and failure to redeem yourself upon a poor, tiny dog.]

Oh, I would have warned the peacock not to try. You see, the dog had a much less friendly dog hiding behind it, all along.

[Their eyes continue to meet his own, vibrant red and far too knowing.]

That dog would have LOVEd to meet him.

[MU] - AUGUST STORYTELLING

tension? what tension??

ah yes, my favorite undertales. Chara, Mettaton, and -looks at smudged hand- tent Sans.

...i can already tell this thread is going places :')

Haha =)

impending slaughter

where are the knives

about to be in this child's body

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