It's a Robot Family Gryftmas (OPEN)

[ex_mettacrusher33]

CHARACTERS: Mettaton and OPEN
DATE: A few days before mission start, but after receiving the dossiers
WARNINGS: I'll update if things get weird.
SUMMARY: It's almost time for a new, exciting mission!! That means it's time to research by singing loud for all your neighbors to hear!! Or... laying listlessly in the snow and feeling like garbage.



The Bedrooms

[Mettaton's been singing for hours.

Not endlessly. There are breaks between his singing the same song 20 times in a row; usually there's a lull when he finally lets a new song play. This is research, after all! He has to listen to its melody, each individually and masterfully crafted to evoke a different, palpable emotion. He has to memorize the words: beautiful tales of love, longing, occasional murder... He listens to the way the harmonies work together. To the way the instruments and vocals meld into one another. He has to occasionally break into fits of snorting laughter at the lead singer's terrible, nasally vocals and wonder which humans let this enter the top 100.

Hopefully, that last one was just a 90's fad, because every time it happens Mettaton can't stop himself from mimicking their horrible intonations and laughing. ...in fact, "research" has somewhat been sidelined by entertaining himself with a new game: "As Sung By Cher!" Where there was once soulful singing is now exaggerated timbre and wobbly vocals and awful, breathless, wheezing laughter.]

Courtyard

[...this new mission is certainly taking its time, isn't it? Before, that was fine. Mettaton had time to run new show ideas by the crew, test the waters, that sort of thing. It's gotten harder, now. Not because people aren't interested! Of course not!! There will always be an audience. It's just...

Despite the bustle, the kitchens feel empty. The library, while beautiful, feels stuffy. He refuses to go to the Squid(?) Park; anything remotely resembling a farm needs to never be in his sight. He doesn't want to go to that terrible room that does nothing but remind him of what he left behind.

The Courtyard it is.

Honestly, it's been either here or his bedroom for the past few days. He needs to research and recharge, after all! There's a big mission ahead!! Surrounded by humans, being their hero... Acting! Singing! Entertaining for them, finally!

...

While he lays on the ground, charging, he mindlessly draws shapes in the snow with his finger. Hearts. Stars. Swirls. A cute little blob with wide, blank eyes. A fish. A nerdy looking lizard. A cat in a burger costume.]

Wildcard: what up

Comments

courtyard

[onethousen]

( She's kind of excited and also a little horrified by what they're heading into, but by now, she's sure that means things are going Right by ALASTAIR standards. Chewing on her lower lip, Chihiro sets herself to jogging and calling it training; she can't quite make herself face the training rooms, knowing that she has no real concept of how to use them to train. She's been in them, yes. She's managed to help people kill bugs (mostly by watching), but that was... she can't remember. Months ago. Years?

She tells herself it's silly to be dramatic, and she continues her jog. This much is probably helping.

It's not on the first pass that she stops, considering she stays to the perimeter and people should be allowed their space and oddities. It's on her third pass that Chihiro finally gives in, approaching Mettaton where he lies, coming to a stop just out of reach. What's being drawn on the ground? )

... Are you okay?

( Almost immediately, she realises that's a silly question, tucking her chin in and straightening up. Okay, think faster, Chihiro. )

I, um. How's your day going?

( ... nope, not really better, but she's rolling with this anyway. )

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[Oh. Oh! Oh, that's a voice. He almost didn't hear it at first, mind still looping in a circle of avoidance and recollection and avoidance again. He raises himself up on his... well. Not elbows. The middle-bits of his noodle-like arms. To peer at where that voice came from.

It's a small, human girl.

...it isn't Mettaton's first instinct to be anything but over the top and bombastic when meeting a new person, especially a human, but.

It seems like a nice, quiet morning. It'd be a shame to ruin it.

So his smile is muted and calm.] Perfectly well, sweetheart, thank you. Just charging, is all. [He gestures to what looks like a cross between a tanning board and solar panel sticking out of his chest with a practiced chuckle.] We need to be ready for whatever's coming, don't we?

...aren't you cold, darling? I wouldn't think a human would want to be running in this weather. [At least, not without it being a competition.]

[onethousen]

( She nods, balling her hands into fists and tucking them up under her armpits. Slowing down makes the cold something she can't shrug off as easily, but she's young, and she has heat and energy yet to burn. It's interesting to meet someone who charge like this, looking like... she's not sure.

Yet in agreeing with what he says, she just has to nod. )

Not really. The coat's good at keeping me warm. ( She holds out one arm, sacrificing her armpit warmth hold in order ton indicate herself. ) And the running makes me hot. ( A pause. ) I'm training.

( Outside? Here? It's a bit like Perdition's Rest, and she's learning that things aren't always easy or controlled or even manageable on her own. But she can run. That's something she can always get better at doing. )

Since we need to be ready, like you said.

[ex_mettacrusher33]

Oho! Well, don't get a chill on my account! [He knocks on his stomach, where a floating, pink heart rests. Tink tink.] I'm all metal and magic, you see; I'm fine in the snow. You should keep warm, beautiful!

...Here, I know the perfect thing to help. [The solar panels slip back into his chassis as Mettaton stretches out his legs and climbs to his feet. He shakes a bit of snow out of his hair and- oh. What's he pulling out from behind his back?! It's...

A microphone!!

...maybe that's not so exciting by itself. He flicks his free wrist to summon some intangible glitter and giant, floating grey words: GO, HUMAN, GO!!]

I'll be cheering you on! Nothing like a little motivation to keep us going, is there?

[onethousen]

( SHe cranes her head back when he's standing, watching him unfold with fascination she tries to disguise out of politeness. Taking a step back, Chihiro migrates her hands to her pockets, wondering at what's happening. The microphone has her blinking again, opening her mouth to ask a question.

Then there are floating grey words, spelling out words she can read, and she finds herself giving Mettaton a look of wonder and... amusement? Chihiro smiles. Sometimes she thinks she doesn't smile enough around here. (It's probably even true.) )

You want to cheer for me? You really don't need to, but um...

( She pulls her hands out of her coat pockets, lifting both arms up like she's rallying herself. )

If you are, then I'll have to do my best!

( This does not tell her what to do other than give him a smart sort of salute and start jogging again, heading for the outer edge of the courtyard, where she's gotten something of a path started for herself. Seven more laps at least? Ten should be good, though if she's actually running instead of jogging, maybe fewer? Chihiro picks up her pace, furrowing her brow and setting off at a determined run. )

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[...heh.

He drags a heel through the snow as she goes, erasing the tiny figures he'd drawn. There's no time for that, not when there's someone that needs a little extra hope!!

Most all of Mettaton's magic is entirely to be showy; in an instant there's a small army of small boxy-robots, all cheering, waving their arms, and blowing kisses. The gray text shifts into an image of a hanging banner: "YOU CAN DO IT <3". Out of his speakers plays the most encouraging soundtrack he knows.]

Aaaaand she's OFF, ladies and gentlemen! Kicking off this year's Audentes' Winter Races is the brown-haired human in her FIRST official tournament and ALREADY look at that form!! She's off to a glorious start, folks! Why, I haven't seen technique like this since the winter of '43!! The crowd is going wild!! They love it!!!

[Confetti! Explosions!! Canned applause!!!]

[onethousen]

( The influx of small boxy robots takes her by surprise, though she doesn't break stride. It's not frightening, just startling. She's gotten good at handling both states of being.

The music is new, and strikes a chord with her; maybe running to music is something she can investigate in the future. People still have walk mans here, right? Or the music that's shared on the other technology. She remembers something about music being found on those devices.

Chihiro tunes out the specific words, finding her own pace to settle into as she loops the courtyard. Seven times in total, before the burn is enough she wants to linger in the better side of that feeling. She slows down, jogging, then angles back toward Mettaton and careful as she navigates through the small boxy-robots, if they're still present. )

You're — phew! Really good at cheering people on!

( She shakes out her arms, walking in a smaller circle to keep moving. Chihiro's not quite ready to stop moving yet, and the chill of the air feels pretty nice where it manages to penetrate to her skin. )

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[The summons only stay long enough to give the human one last wave before floating off back into the sky like so many English nannies. Mettaton stays where he is, but crouches down so it's easier to speak to the small human.

And she is small. She's almost the same size as Frisk-darling. And almost with the same haircut and color.

...]

I'd certainly hope so! We wouldn't want years of making inspirational music, television, and movies to go to waste, now would we? [When you and your kind were trapped under a mountain for centuries, the most you could do was be good at cheering people on.

...not with the snails, though. They always caught on fire.

Anyway.]

You should probably head back inside now, darling. You don't want to get sick.

bedrooms

[backthatup]

[ As nice as it is to hear the same song 20 times in a row, he decides that he should attempt to have a brief chat with the person singing. The voice singing, while has the same mechanical sounding one as his own, is not unpleasant to listen to. It simply is that he's found that now he has an earworm in his head. He's going to be humming this song everywhere he goes now -- and slamming his fist on whatever solid object he can find in an attempt to stop himself.

But it's hard to actually stay mad when he catches the wheezing laughter. It's infectious and really, is there any harm in it. So he knocks lightly on the door to both introduce and-- ]

Do you take requests?

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[...so many times had Mettaton wished his life were more like a simple, happy sitcom. Of course that was before the fame, but he'd spent so many hours watering snails while imagining being drowned in a sea of goofy shenanigans and thunderous applause anytime he made a sly remark that it's hard to simply let those tropes and images go.

So it's now that a stranger is at his door while he's hanging upside down off the edge of his bed and wheezing like an idiot that those images come back to haunt him. This is not what he wanted.

There's a series of thunks that's obviously a large, metal person sliding off their bed and scrambling toward the door, but he opens it with the same practiced smile as always. It's another robot! How delightful!!]

O-of course!! Whatever you'd like, sweetheart!

[backthatup]

[ He smiles beneath his visor as he decides that he shouldn't ask if he is all right. That would be embarrassing for this person. Instead, he tilts his head as an indication of a friendly smile without actually having the means to emote it. ]

Whatever I like? [ Genji hums thoughtfully for a second. Ah, wait -- the songs that he heard this person sing were more from the past than the present. He should think on those terms, right? What song does he know from back then? ] Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On...

[ That immediately came to mind. Steam starts to pour out of the vents on his shoulders. An indication that he's actually embarrassed but he continues to stare at the robot. This is his defense mechanism -- stare at the person after saying something excruciatingly embarrassing like what he said is a normal thing. ]

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[Oh thank god, he didn't ask. Mind you, Mettaton would have never acknowledged it anyway, but it's nice to know someone is playing along.

Speaking of playing along... Steam. Like that other, nosy robot from the party, this one doesn't have much in the realm of facial expressions, but that steam is interesting... Whatever could that mean?

Let's find out.]

Afraid I haven't heard that one yet, darling, [he admits with a sad shrug.] Still a bit behind on the times. [He rests a hand against his check. He's the perfect picture of innocence.]

Perhaps if you'd sing a few bars...?

courtyard

[headlining]

[An ominous shadow is cast over Mettaton. Is it an incoming enemy? Some harrowing being, ready to destroy his life?]

[.....No, it's just a bespectacled bookish gentleman, who stares down at his little snow doodles. Keats pushes his glasses up, mouth creased, as always, into a grumpy-looking frown. Despite the expression, he does sound faintly amused.]

What, you were too bored for snow angels?

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[Ah. A human is standing in his light.

What magnificent hair! He could deal without the attitude, though he doesn't let any negative emotion show. Instead, Mettaton smiles patiently and gestures toward the solar panels sticking out of his chest.]

I'm after the sun, darling, not the shade. So if you'd please put it away?

[headlining]

Well, if you ask so nicely.

[He has half a mind to just be a jerk and keep standing there, but, well, he'll play nice for now - he steps over to Mettaton's side, allowing the sun to come back over the reclined robot.]

I didn't know robots needed to sunbath.

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[...no points for paying attention, huh?]

Oh, no. This[he says while extending a leg into the air, arching his back, and framing his face with his hands in the most STRIKING of poses!!] is entirely for everyone else's benefit.

[Pft.

He flops back into the snow, resting his hands against the glass case of his core chamber.]

I'm charging, beautiful. Can't you see these lovely little solar panels?

[headlining]

[He can't help it - Mettaton poses, like he's on the cover of Vogue, and Keats lets out a quiet snrk, too amused to react any other way.]

That so? [Okay, okay, moving on.] So you don't have to plug yourself in? That's efficient. [There aren't any robots where he comes from, but he finds them significantly more believable than people throwing around magic and things.]

What happens when it isn't a sunny day, however?

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[When it isn't sunny?]

Well, then I can plug myself in, but it's as you said: I don't have to. And when it's this lovely a day, who would want to stay inside a stuffy castle with their body plugged into a wall? [He's raising both his legs now, like he's stretching, but it's plainly obvious he's just admiring himself in the sunlight.

Oh, the sun. The greatest spotlight of them all...]

This is much more preferable, don't you agree?

[headlining]

[Where's the pool that this Narcissus can stare into all day to admire his reflection for the rest of the day?]

I do agree, actually. Staying inside has it's merits, but I hardly want to do that forever. It's good to get some fresh air.

[He tilts his head, smirking.] What were you made for, though? Robots usually are built for a purpose.

bedrooms

[digiorno]

[What the hell is that, it sounds like Cher being put through a trash compactor?]

[--is what Giorno thinks, approximately five minutes before he squints tiredly at his door and puts down his reading to wander into the hall in search of the culprit. The rest of the songs were quite good, actually, nice background noise, but honestly.]

[Of course, when he leans on the doorframe and looks in at the vocalist in question, it's pretty hard to be mad. Not because it isn't obnoxious, it's totally obnoxious, but he's fond of this kind of dramatic display from this particular person. Because: compliments happened. The way to a man's heart is through his ego.]

What year have you made it to?

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[Anyone who has had the pleasure of seeing Mettaton dance knows how quickly he can move! Anyone who hasn't... well, they might be startled at the sight of a man going from "hanging off the edge of his bed head-first like an excited teenager" to "twisting his lower-half around 160 degrees to spring himself into a standing position" in about 3 seconds. They might be startled. They should mostly be impressed.

...yes.

Regardless, twisting himself in impossible ways like a possessed doll to get out of his bed is exactly what he's done. He can't be seen so lax!! He's a professional! He has an IMAGE! He- ...

Oh, he knows this human! They're lovely! Mettaton relaxes slightly, as if that horror show hadn't just happened. He laughs easily as he reorients his joints.]

1991. The music is dirty and dour and Cyndi Lauper is nowhere in sight. I won't hold spoilers against you if you'd like to tell me this isn't a trend.

[digiorno]

[This is, hands down, the most relatable sequence of movements Giorno has ever seen. While he can't personally twist his legs and hips around in that way, it would be cool to be able to, honestly. He clasps his hands in front of him and grins, clearly very impressed. Stick your leggy out further, sir.]

1993 is a good year. Generally speaking, though, 1995 through 2000 are highlights in terms of catchy vocals, bright colors, and the slow, painful demise of grunge.

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[It lasts four more years at the LEAST? Robotic groan of dismay! Mettaton flops back into his bed, sitting this time, and gestures toward the... floor.]

You can come in, sweetheart. Close the door behind you if you would, though; there's so much more catching up that needs to be done.

[Dramatic sigh.]

At least when they made depressing music in the 80s it could still be danced to. This is just... abysmal.

[digiorno]

[Oh. He brightens a little, steps inside and knocks the door closed gently with his heel.]

Yes, but--

[Aaaaand plonks himself down unceremoniously on the edge of the bed. Like a cat, he assumes that all spaces are his space. Why wouldn't they be.]

Prince put out twelve albums between 1990 and 2000. Six between 1990 and 1995. So it's not all hopeless.

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[Oh. Well, that works too. Mettaton takes the time to twist himself onto his bed, crossing his legs over one another to face his new music... partner? Safari guide? Somethi--]

What.

[He's immediately fiddling with his necklace to change it to something... Princely and upbeat. Goodbye, miserable, marble-mouthed base-player. Hello...

Oh...]

Oh my. [His pupils have formed into little hearts.] It's like being on an elevator that's slowing being filled with melted chocolate. [That is to say that it's very smooth.]