Chapter Text
Like insects crawling and wiggling under his skin, the incessant itch that settled in his casing throbbed with an uncomfortable burn. No mater how he rubbed and scratched all over, the feeling never went away. It might die down for a few seconds, only to reignite and leave his frustration to seep deeper into his core. This whole ordeal was made worse by the lingering damage to his shoulders. They were often stiff, prone to locking up or going limp on him entirely. The pain never entirely went away, but it would flair up if he raised his arms too high or moved the crippled joints too suddenly, or had the audacity to roll them on a bad day in an attempt to elevate some of the stiffness. His grip strength also wasn’t what it used to be, dropping or hold slipping on things even when it felt like his grasp was secure.
Not being able to contort his arms like he once could was a slap to the face, a reminder of how old and decrepit he’d become. It also meant he couldn’t indulge in a proper scratch fury like he could in the past, even if the aggravated act of dragging his gloved claws over his itching casing didn’t help long-term. The act of being able to alleviate the agonizing irritation under his plastic was self-soothing, cathartic. He wasn’t about to ask someone else for help, as enticing as the brief relief from his symptoms seemed, just considering it made his screen burn with shame. Even if his pride was in taters at this point, what little of it remained, he wasn’t about to humiliate himself further. He wasn’t that desperate, not yet.
And he never did like having people present, too much vulnerability. Well, there were a few people he used to let help him. At least two individuals that would ride this out with him, destressing him as much as possible so the moulting went through without a hitch. But they were either gone or changed into a nearly unrecognizable stranger because he was a pathetic, selfish welp. He missed the way Spamton could run his mouth about something as menial as the weather and put his mind off the peeling, itching feel. Missed Mike’s calm, tempered presence and the way shadowy hands would feel pleasantly icy against his flushed casing. Mike’s hands no longer felt as gentle as they once did, cool or hot on demand as needed.
Tenna first noticed the signs of an incoming moulting the night before Kris opened up a dark fountain, when they first approached with the task of keeping the lightners entertained until the Roaring Knight arrived. Silver mottling around the corners of his screen, a slight discoloration to the metal of his antenna. He knew it was coming, shoved that information to the wayside because it was unimportant to his assigned task. Moulting would happen later, when he wasn’t preoccupied with distracting Kris’ new friends. Not even a near death experience could delay the inevitable. The dusty silver splotches had grown, nearly all of his pale lavender paneling was bleached to a faded lace color.
How would the soldering scars, the silver-gray lines where his arms had been reattached, affect his moulting? The most likely hiccup he could think off was pieces of his molted casing getting caught, or not detaching properly around the textured scars. Darkners couldn’t get infections the same way lightners did, but they had something fairly close. Getting dead casing caught or trapped near the area would put him at risk, if the stress of moulting didn’t end up doing him in. Maybe this was how he died; done in by the viral shock of an infected wound, or burnt out from the stress of a botched moulting. What a pathetic way to go, perfect for a miserable thing like him.
Shrinking just made his slowly detaching old casing feel more bunched up. It only made the irritation and itching worse, so he forced himself back to full size. Maybe a walk would help deescalate his mind, but he didn’t want to be seen in such a pathetic state. Didn’t want to be caught during the vulnerable transition from his old, peeling casing to a new one. It was stressful enough without being turned into a gawking spectacle in the middle of town. So here the TV was, curled up as best he could in a far corner of the room. As far from the doors as he could manage. The dry air and his own clothes felt gritty and chaffing on his tender moult-sensative plating. Crap, it was going to be a nightmare getting his clothes off when his casing really started peeling.
Numb pins-and-needles, a very different sensation of the uncomfortable needling of the itch, settled into his fingertips. The firm ground beneath his palms was a barely-there sense of pressure as the numbness settled further up his fingers, edging towards his major knuckles. Alongside the numbness was a dampened responsiveness and stiffness that made his fingers slow and clunky. Turning practically useless at the most inconvenient time for him. There was no way he’d be able to get the buttons undone with what minuscule dexterity he still had, not without ripping them out. Not on his own. Torn and ruined as it was, this was the only set of cloths he had. After the hasty repairs done to his arms, there had been a mad scramble to seal the dark fountain before Toriel woke up. No time to grab even one change of clothes, even if he’d been cognizant enough to do so. The stress and wear from getting his arms slashed off, then dropping from a cliff from a tangible height, left him weak and delirious. So, with nothing to change into, Tenna was very much eager to keep his current suit as presentable as possible. It was improper, unsightly, for someone like him to strut about with a shirt and blazer that couldn’t be closed properly.
Especially when Susie and Kris finally found him that new home they promised. Walking around in such an indecorous state of dress in front of total strangers, new neighbors he needed to put his best foot forward with, was just asking for a scandalous first impression. A disaster just waiting to happen. But if he didn’t give his old, scuffed dead casing room to detach properly it would get stuck to his new, soft casing and cause problems. Or worse.
Maybe he could call Ralsei in, the kindly monster-like darkner could probably help him disrobe without making things feel too awkward. Might even be able to help peel the dead plastic along his back and head, where it was impossible for his crippled arms to reach without straining something. Oh- but how was he supposed to reach the little prince? It wasn’t like he could call the fluffy boy, Ralsei didn’t have a phone on him. And if the dark prince wasn’t somewhere in the castle, was out among his townspeople, Tenna was in a bind until the smaller boy came back. If he came back in time. There was still time… maybe a short nap might help him calm down.
“Hey Ralsei!” Susie cackled as she nugied her friend playfully. Ralsei laughed softly as her fist gently tussled the downy fur on the crown of his head. They had only seen each other a few hours ago at worst, and yet without fail the softened mean girl would treat each encounter like a long-awaited reunion after weeks of waiting.
“Susie! Kris! So nice to see the both of you. Everyone will be ecstatic to see you both!” The Dark World prince chirped back. Leaning into the mock rough touch, Susie’s brand of affection, laughter pealed from him as his carefully groomed fur was turned into a kicked mess of white strands. He didn’t mind the slight inconvenience if it meant getting to enjoy the warm touch of a friend.
Standing a short distance away, Kris watched the friendly display of affection with the same blank expression they always wore. Eyes veiled by the darkened mop of their messy hair, keen beneath the curtain. When the curious greeting between the more expressive members of the trio tapered off and the two fell in step behind the human, they began marching towards the town. Lively and jovial as the darkners from many different Dark Worlds mingled with one another so naturally. The first stop was always to Malious’ smithy/the bakery to see what new items could be fused from the gear in their pockets. Better defense items were always a must, each new Dark World was more dangerous than the last, even as the three grew stronger with each adventure themselves. After acquiring better gear, decluttering their pants hole in the process, and acquiring the new, better spin cake for their next adventure, it was on to the café.
The lively establishment was a favorite gathering place for the locals. Up-beat music thanks to the Shadowguys and Tasque Manger (who was a shockingly good jazz singer), tasty drinks and light snacks to help relax, a good atmosphere. It was good place to gather insight as to how everyone was doing, if a little crowded most of the time. Next was the love dojo. A good place to let off stream in a safe environment and let Susie run loose. The prizes were a fun bonus. Just, maybe they could all do without as much PDA- mostly courteous of the weather duo. The pair in question were boldly nuzzling noses together off to the side.
“Ah, Kris and company!” Laninio waved, brightening (somehow) when he spotted the trio. Next to him, his darling Elnina smiled welcomely. The two trotted over. “It’s so nice to see everyone, has everyone been doing well?”
“Pshaw, like I’d ever be anything less than great.” Susie scoffed playfully. “I’m too tough to let anything get to me!”
“…Fine.” Kris said quietly, voice flat and toneless as normal. They rarely emoted in all the time Susie had known them, unless something really got to them. That fight with the puppet thing in Cyber World was the first, and most prominent, example- they hadn’t stopped shaking until getting back up to the main parts of the mansion.
“We see each other often enough that you already know my answer.” Ralsie nodded.
“Yes, that is true.” The sunmoon agreed with a gentle laugh.
“You two come here often?” Kris enquired. Now that they mentioned it, just about ever time they came to visit the lovey-dovey pair were in the love dojo.
“You guys have been spending a lot ‘a time here,” The lizard girl agreed. “What, you looking to move in here or something?” She teased.
“Oh, nothing quite that extreme,” Elninia dismissed. “As the two who helped champion this fine establishment, it’s our duty to help run things. That, and we don’t have to worry about stepping on anyone’s toes with our affection in here.”
Well, it was now called the love dojo. While a fair number of darkners did come for its original (pre love) purpose, of getting stronger, it looked like a fair number had comes in hope of possibly meeting a special someone. There were worse places to go nosing for love, and everyone who walked it knew what they could get into.
“Yeah, I think Tenna might kick you out if you guys’ snog in front of him one too many times.” Susie joked. It would piss any single person off seeing any happy couples flaunt that stuff in front of them day in and day out. “Speaking of, how’s he doing, anyhow?” It still wasn’t that long ago the TV guy got cleaved right in front of them. She could still remember the feeling of his severed wires in her hands; duct tape pinched between her teeth as she and the others labored to fix him up. The repairs had been rushed and sloppy at best. Even if he put on a brave face, she knew he was still feeling it even now.
“Tenna’s holding on.” Laninio answered. “He tends to just keep to his room, though he’s occasionally left to visit the new studio. But other than that…”
“And even when he does go out, he’s always so withdrawn and shy around others. He’s become a real wallflower.” Elninia added, a hand on her cheek, painted lips downturned into a frown to match her partner’s.
“Maybe you should drag him here sometime. Make him participate in a few battles, let him get to know some people.” A rematch with Tenna sounded awesome. The last time had been a total bummer, even before the cleaving happened. Sour with tension as they confronted him in the hopes of getting him to let Toriel go peacefully. The entire fight had been uncomfortable, watching the already spiraling TV doom spiral to lows even she didn’t realize were possible.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea…” Laninio winced. He and his partner shared a look, both shifting uncomfortably as they shared some sort of silent conversation. It was clear this was something of a, not quite sore spot, but certainly sensitive matter regarding their old boss/friend.
Did it have something to do the weird pipis thing he kept in a closet, the one the puppet thing enthusiastically recognized? Or why Tenna had a paper mâché head that looked oddly similar to the dealmaker’s true form. It was starling when the little guy jumped from her face and made a beeline for Tenna, talked to him like they knew each other. Like Tenna should have recognized him. Then looked so miserable, even through all that foam, when he limped back to them like a kicked dog. It was always a little jarring seeing darkners from different world talk to one another about a shared past. A reminder that darkners had thoughts and memories, entire lives that could be independent from those in the Light World.
“And, besides, now seems like a poor time to go dragging Tenna out of him room.” Elnina continued. “He’s been even more of a broody homebody than usual. Won’t even tell us what’s bothering him.”
“Tenna does seem a little more stressed than usual,” Ralsei agreed thoughtfully. “I didn’t think much of it because of how reclusive he’s been since arriving in Castle Town. I know his eagerness towards going to a new home’s been making him introverted.”
Right, she did promise to find the TV a new home. And she’d been trying, too. But most people already had a TV that worked just fine, or didn’t need one. Streaming and video sharing platforms were popular, easy to access with a computer or smartphone. Cable TV just wasn’t that popular anymore. Not like there was much on recently, anyway. Alongside the internet being down, long-distance TV wasn’t getting through. The only things on were reruns from the local stations.
Actually, now that she was thinking about it, wasn’t that strange? The cell towers were all working no problem, she’d seen plenty of people use their mobile phones just fine. It was just the internet and national cable that were down. And had been since a few days before her and Kris’ adventure in Lancer’s kingdom. Shouldn’t the issue have been fixed by now? Not even a short statement had been released abut the issue. Then again, no body seemed all that inconvenienced by the outage. Still, it was all sorts of strange. Hometown was no urban city, but it wasn’t out in the boonies either. It was a fairly suburban small town that still had plenty of modern amenities, so how hard could it be to get someone to fix the internet? Maybe it was related to the dark fountains the Knight was making. Something for her and Kris to look into.
Back in the present, Susie scratched the back of her head. “Maybe we should go visit Tenna.”
“You know, I think that would really brighten up his day.” Elninia beamed.
It was a short walk to Ralsei’s castle, the love dojo was one of a few key buildings right outside the courtyard. Despite its towering size -as the biggest building in Castle Town- very few darkners other than Ralsei lived there. Lancer, Queen, Tenna, King was down in the basement dungeon. Maybe that weirdo Rouxls, she often saw him hanging around. Most regular darkners preferred to find a place in one of the many, many houses that cropped up as the town expanded. The two lightner heroes also had rooms in the castle, and Susie admittedly used hers often. There was Ralsei’s cooking cauldron right up front as they entered, a perpetual fire simmering under the clear water-like liquid inside the cast-iron vessel. It still amazed her how the meek boy could practically summon whatever he wished from the cauldron upon command.
Up the first flight of stairs was her and Kris’ cool rooms, right next to each other. It was always cool having her own dedicated space, even cooler when it was allowed to reflect her personal tastes. She still maintained that hers was the more awesome of the two, not that Kris’s room wasn’t neat, just way fewer spikes than hers. The unimprisoned boss darkners’ rooms were on the third floor. Double doors rather than the singular ones most others had. Maybe because Queen and Tenna’s rooms didn’t feel like actual bedroom. Barely any more furniture than Ralsei’s own room, no bed to speak of. She didn’t like to dwell on what she’d come to learn that implied.
Marching up to the yellow doors neighboring Queen’s blue ones, Kris rapped the knuckles against it a few times. A silence followed, or as much of one as was possible when the low whisper of music reverberated through the hallway. How loud was Queen blasting her fancy speakers if they could hear it form outside? It wasn’t loud enough that Tenna couldn’t have heard them, she’d heard Kris’ knocking just fine.
Shouldering her way past, Susie threw the doors open. “Tenna, hey! We came to visit…”
For a moment she couldn’t see the TV darkner. The lights in the room were dim, but not to the point it was too pitch-black inside for her to see. She eventually spotted her target huddled in a corner. His screen was dim, just barley brighter than the dim illumination. He was rubbing the side of his head against the wall, antenna lowered close to his casing. A low hiss exhaled from his vents.
“Tenna?” She tired again. This time he heard her, pinned antenna twitching. He paused his rubbing, finally taking notice of the doors and her standing in the doorway. Ralsei and Kris peered around her to take in the dim room, and the CRT in the corner.
“Su- sie?” The bigger darkner croaked. Was he even still bigger than her? He was looking pretty tiny, folded in on himself like that. Something felt, off, and not just because the typically lively, animated darkner was so still and lethargic. Not yet wrong, but there was a tension in the air that had her pausing in an unusual show of caution.
“Hey, is everything okay? You look…” She was at a loss about how to phrase it. He didn’t look like shit, but did look almost miserable, certainly seemed uncomfortable. In the dim light, the plastic that made up his head looked washed out, like most of the pale lilac had been scrubbed away. Even his screen seemed cloudy, smudged like someone had smeared hand and fingerprints over the snowy, flickering glass. His nose was gone, leaving a smooth, partly curved surface. “You catch a cold or something?” She decided upon.
“Ahaha, nope. I’m right as… Okay, so I might be feeling a little tired, but it’s nothing serious, I promise.” Tenna tried to assure her. The smile, forced at the edges, he tried to plaster on his fuzzy screen wobbled in the corners. Flickering, even the colors of his grin were washed out. There was a strained undertone to his voice, a crack to his forced laughter.
“…Bullshit.” Susie felt her hair fall over her eyes in a familiar way. How long was it when she last stopped brushing her hair forward to veil her eyes like Kris? She stomped over towards Tenna, teeth gritted. When she was close enough, she grabbed him by the lapels of his coat (she nearly grabbed him by the shoulders, then remembered how carful he moved his arms, how tender and pained they still seemed) and shook him. “You look anything but alright, dumbass! I know a sick person when I see one, and you sound like shit.” Now that she was up close like this, it wasn’t just that his casing looked pale. It really was lighter and silver-toned compared to normal, liked someone had drained the color out like blood.
“H-hey now, I’m sorry if I upset you, but I’m really okay!” He tried to placate her, forcing a slightly bigger smile. The smudgy film to his screen turned the edges fuzzy, more than usual.
“Susie…” Realsei hesitated by the doorway. Kris remained outside entirely. What, were they determined to keep out of this or something? Not important right now.
“How am I supposed to believe you when you look like, like,” Like that night, when you almost died. Would have, too, if she hadn’t found people to hold find him. Even with the bright red of his suit standing out against the snow, it had almost been impossible to find him. He’d shrunken so small he was living up to his namesake right then, cold to the point he’d stopped shivering completely. “Don’t try to tell me your alright when you clearly aren’t. I’ll kick your ass!”
Tenna opened his mouth to reply. Before he had a chance to say anything, the TV host’s posture went rigid. He practically threw himself against the wall, whining and whimpering like a pained animal as he dragged as much of his body as he could press up against across the wall. Rubbing himself in short, incessant drags. Something about the sight strummed at some way-back thought in her head. He sort of looked like- It finally clicked, what this reminded her of.
“You’re molting.” The words tumbled carelessly from her lips. Once the worst of the itching fit died down, and her words could sink in, the TV darkner froze. He refused to look her in the face. Shit, no wonder he looked so washed out and sickly. Molting was a stressful time for anyone, and Tenna was nearly killed not too long ago. “Ralsei,”
The fluffy boy stiffened. “Yes, Susie, what is it?”
“I need you to get me a spray bottle and water, preferably nice and warm without being too hot.” She requested. Warm water would help soften the top layer, make it easier to shed without tugging on the softer underlayer. Misting was usually the best, most comfortable method to do so- even if she herself just preferred to dunk herself in water until her molting layer was ready to come loose.
“Yes ma’am!” Ralsei squeaked.
What else did she think they were going to need? Once the dead layer was ready, it would start peeling on its own. This seemed like more of a bug molt rather than her own scale molting. Weren’t bugs all squishy and vulnerable after they molted, needing their outer skin to dry before they could move? “Hey, Tenna, do you want to use a blow-dryer? Does that sound like something that would help?”
“No!” The boss darkner shouted. Then, quieter “No, I don’t like when my new casing dries out too quickly. It feels all gritty and uncomfortable.”
“Okay,” She assured him. “No blow-dryer, got it.” Anything else? When she molted, she liked to have a nice warm spot to lounge on, like a big, smooth rock in the sun. There was no sunlight, and Tenna might maul her if she tried to drag him out of here in such a vulnerable state (totally fair, she’d do the same if their roles were reversed). Maybe something soft to lounge on would help. “Kris! Mind finding a really big blanket or something- the softer and fluffy the better!”
Her human friend saluted her, then stiffly walked out of sight. Okay, while her friends were getting those things. “Tenna, can you sit up a little for me? I think you’d be much happier if we got all these annoying obstructions off you.” Clothing was a nightmare for a molting person. They itched, chaffed, trapped the dead layer too close to the body, and all around made molting impossible. Tenna wordlessly complied, leaning back on his haunches so she could reach and pop the buttons with ease.
“Thank you…” He whispered as she opened his tailcoat and helped ease it off his shoulders.
“No problem, we molters got ‘a stick together, right?” She flashed him a toothy grin. She knew how stressful this could be. Knew all too well how painful being different from the people around you was, especially when it was something so outlandish to them as shedding dead skin in one big layer. Humans and most monsters shed little bits of their skin at a time. The most understanding she got was from bird monsters, who molted large swaths of their feathers in stages. It wasn’t the same, but it was the closest to her own situation anyone else had come. Well, until now.
Once the rest of his clothes were out of the way, Tenna looked much more relaxed than before. Apparently fumbling with the buttons was a big worry for him. He’d been cautious with how he moved his arms, fingers twitching almost involuntarily. She could see patches along his back and sides where the casing was looking especially loose, like it was almost ready to start peeling. She cast his shoulders, and the white-silver soldering lines encircling them, a worried glance. Scars were always liable to snag and catch the dead layer, and then made everything around the area worse because of it. They also had to be careful when peeling the dead layer away, because it might stick to the soft new layer and tear something. She had a few unfortunate pockmarks on her back from that exact thing happening. Moistening the dead layer should help minimize that.
Ralsei returned first, one of those nice DIY-household-cleaner bottles in one hand, a large towel in the other. Nice, the towel could be used to mop up extra moisture. The spray bottle was pleasantly warm to the touch, just a few degrees cooler than bath water. Armed, she immediately started spritzing the area around the soldering scars, try and soften the casing as much as possible there. She let Ralsei pat any extra droplets from the area with the towel as she got to work on the rest of Tenna. The spray bottle was empty long before she could do Tenna’s whole body, but all the problem areas she’d scoped out were damp. Kris returned with a big folded chunk of fluffy cloth in their arms. That thing could have been an over-sized table cloth if it wasn’t made of the furry, cozy material the really fluffy, good blankets were made of. Where her friend found one big enough for Tenna to use, she didn’t know, but Susie wasn’t about to question it.
Lining the ground with the blanket, Tenna immediately started loafing on the ground like an oversized house cat. Sort of, his arms were draped on either side of him as he fell into a sort-of crouch, rather than fold them underneath his front. It was close enough. At least he looked comfortable. Now it was just a waiting game.
Susie’s touch was gentle as she ghosted her claws over his casing, feeling for any gaps where she could start to ease the discarded moult off. The worst of the itching had died down once the purple girl started hydrating his discarded casing with water. The perks of being in a Dark World, he didn’t have to worry about shorting out or zapping someone if he got wet. The same could not be said about him in the Light World- so don’t try this at home kids! Ralsei had been kind enough to ease some of the numbness in his hands with a healing spell.
Kris lingered over in the back, eyeing all this with a passive sort of curiosity, but didn’t dare risk coming close. This was unlike anything they would have personally seen with their family or the Holidays. Maybe the Holiday’s antler shedding came close, rubbing peeling velvet from their horns before those same horns would fall off. His was much more like a bug’s; his chassis like an exoskeleton. He typically only moulted once or twice a year, depending on the wear to his casing. Normally he could manage just fine, handled his own moults on his own like the adult he was for years. Would have been fine if he wasn’t also adapting to the new limitations in his arm mobility. Because it was Susie and company, he didn’t feel as mortified as if it was someone else attending to him. It was almost like he was back to better times.
He knew immediately when his plating started peeling. The itchy needling that had died down turned to a flaking tease to his new casing. His first impulse was to start rubbing against the wall to help try and pry the moult off. Susie stopped him after a bit. Her fingers pinched the slight outward curl of the end, gently coaxing the layer off. Never once tugging if it felt like the moult was sticking, instead she loosened it with a misting of water and worked from a different angle to ease the trouble spot off. It was the same gentle care his old partner or Mike should use back in the day. He never once let Mike assist with moulting after he left. Tenna could tell by the new way Mike handled him that he no longer possessed the same delicate patience that moulting required. Pluey came close, but even the mute form was prone to carelessness too often to trust.
A purr rumbled from his chest as the first piece of plating eased free. Cool air ticked his new, soft casing now that it was exposed. It would dry and harden with time, usually in under an hour. While she worked on his harder to reach areas (back, shoulders, head and antenna) he worked on his arms and legs.
“Mister Tenna, if you’d like, I could help too.” Ralsei offered.
“Sure, you can help with my arm so I can walk you through it.” The young prince didn’t have the same experienced touch as his monster friend, but he worked with a similar gentleness. His timidness was the real issue. Scared of pulling too hard and ripping something, Ralsei was prone to not nudging the peeling exoskin firm enough to move it, or lose his tentative grip. It was preferable to the opposite problem, and easier to walk Ralsei through then getting him to ease up. The joy on the bespectacled boy’s face was palpable as he stared at the peeled casing moult pinched between his fingers, then back up at Tenna.
Unlike say a lizard’s moulted skin, his casing was thicker. The former was comparable to sheer cloth or a single sheet of paper. His chassis was nearly an inch thick and not nearly as flexible, even when softened with water. With the three of them working together, they made quick work of most of the discarded moult. The only remaining areas were all the most difficult; his antenna, screen, and the area around his scarring. They were all a pain to moult for vastly different reasons. The scaring was obvious. His antenna were tricky because of how thin the layer was, and how sensitive they were. A sensory organ like they would be on an actual ant, even more important than his eye-like screen, as well as one of two key players in maintaining his balance. With his screen, it was tedious to try and catch a side of the quarter-inch thick material that even moulted remained rigid, and the softened glass beneath scratched painfully easy.
In the end, it was decided that Susie, with her superior experience with scar moulting, would handle his shoulders. It was always going to have to be one of his two helpers, he just couldn’t reach that far up without hurting himself. Tenna could manage his screen just fine, even with his limited dexterity. Ralsie with his shy touch could handle the antenna. The thin moult peeled much easier than the rest of him.
Puffing his cheeks out, he managed to shoved the glass-moult out and give himself the gap room needed. Shoving a claw into the pane, he slowly dragged it out. The shed glass clattered to the ground with an almost ringing tat-tat. Ralsei was courteous enough to get that out of the way before getting all grabby with his antenna, pealing the thin, metallic layer off with measured, light flicks of his wrist. The sensation made the boss darkner flinch and shudder. It was almost like having someone caress an exposed nerve, just without the pain. Painless, even with the broken, crooked right antenna, it was over in mere seconds.
Last was Susie, who was locked in as she gently dragged the moult-plastic up. It snagged around the rough shoulder lines, as anticipated. Warm water was used to soften the moult until it finally tugged free.
“Damn, I didn’t realize you could be this soft.” Susie teased, poking at the softened plating along his back.
“Yes, I dare say it feels squishy.” Ralse agreed.
“Careful with the goods.” He warned them, mostly to tease. His new casing was very mailable before drying, one wrong touch could warp it permanently. But they weren’t wrong, the new plating was springy and souple to the touch, like molten glass that was safe to handle. It was extra sensitive, too.
Another chittering purr rumbled from his chest as Ralsei’s soft touch roamed the underside of his chin, smoothing over the tubing of his neck. Behind him, Susie was scratching down his back just soft enough not to damage the hardening plastic. Perhaps emboldened by their friends, Kris finally coaxed closer. A metal encased hand shyly reached out. Cool fingertips brushed down the metal seam between two plates on his left arm. His hand lifted up so they could follow the seams down to his fingers. Pressing against the naturally soft and squishy silicone of a finger pad, the retracted claw sprung free. His pads and claws were about the only parts of him that didn’t shed with the rest of him. His claws, like a cat’s, shed in thin layers every day to maintain their form and sharpness. The pads of his hands and feet did so a little less often, usually when they were worn thin from use.
They eyed his claw curiously, pressing against another pad, marveled when the same thing repeated. They pressed a finger to his own, studying the way his claw curved over their fingertip. It was sharp enough to tear through the thin silvery metal of their gauntlets, cutting open the squishy flesh beneath. He’d never do that willingly, purposefully, not to any of them.
“How often do you do this?” Susie asked.
“Once a year, twice if my casing really takes a beating.” Tenna hummed.
“Cool, I just molt one a year myself.” She chirped back.
“Next time, feel free to come to me for help. I know it’s much easier to have someone else get your back.” He offered smoothly. Not that he thought she needed it, but it was always nice when things were made easier.
“You know, I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” Susie barked with laughter. “You’re new owner better be alright with visitation rights!”