palevessel

[palevessel]

Change comes quickly, though not without warning. Though the days are as lively as ever, the night brings with it a chill. A promise that things will only get colder. It has lived in this world for over a year now, and the change of seasons is familiar.

I’m sorry. It’s not what I was meant for.

Under the watch of the Ophiuchus tree, the city’s residents have gathered at the river to pay their respects: to those they’ve lost, to those who have left the city, to another summer gone by. The Hollow Knight sits at the bank now, alone in a darkness lit only by the stars above...

...And hundreds of candles below. The water’s surface crowds with them; as the festivities were ending, the locals had heeded its request to use every candle they had left. They understood it meant a lot. Though even this glittering sea of candle-light only represents a small fraction of the lives it wished to honour. Lives never lived. Hundreds of thousands of empty shells, abandoned in the dark forever.

It still recalls the sound of breaking shells, the cracking of bodies as it climbed over them. It grew strong, fed on grief, armed in desperation—never hollow. Why was it chosen, out of all of them? Why was it the one to carry all their burdens?

I know. It was unfair.

It looked back once, to see a near-identical form struggling close behind, reaching up for its help.

It never looked back again.

A world unchanging, where time did not pass and life did not decay. That was its ideal. That was Father’s ideal... is there a difference? A kingdom held in stasis could not fall, even as its inhabitants slowly sank into dreams, as history moved on and forgot.

Here, the sun rises and sets; there is no force holding back the dawn from breaking. The world ends each day, and then it begins again. Such a cycle seems natural... though it is beyond the comprehension of a creature who has been dead from the moment it was born.

I cannot change it. I cannot... I must not...

To those countless discarded vessels, lives snuffed out before they began, all in pursuit of an impossible goal... nothing will ever change again. To the ruins of Hallownest which it had failed to keep from crumbling all around it, nothing will ever be the same. There is no way to go back.

All that can be done is to watch as the candles slowly drift away. This is an empty gesture. But not a meaningless one: if no one else will remember, at the very least it does.

My only wish is that I could see you again... my siblings.

[palevessel]

Sunlight doesn’t agree with the Vessel, and even when choosing to participate in a social event it finds itself isolated, hiding in shadows. Perhaps it will brave the water once the light has faded.

The keen observer might notice something different about it, however: its horns are abloom in colourful summer flowers, grown there by a curious witch who said she wanted to try something.

The sensation is strange... though not unpleasant.

[palevessel]

A strange creature falls from the sky, startling the Vessel. It watches, surprise fading into a milder curiosity as they don’t seem to be hostile. In the prolonged silence, it stoops down to look more closely, its head tilting to one side, and then...

...It tries to pull its own cloak around itself, in a poor imitation of the other.

@palevessel​

Meta Knight has been scouting for less than an hour of this night when his wings abruptly feel heavy. Frantic flapping does not keep him in the air, and he’s barely able to soften the landing by trying to glide. He hits the ground and rolls a few moments before he’s able to get to his feet. Sensing a presence other than himself, he immediately wraps his cape around himself and -

- it does not warp him anywhere. So he… stays like that. As though this is exactly what he’d meant to do.

[palevessel]

fcxrcin​:

At first, her initial worry strikes her, but when she remembers where she is, Hansol calms. Someone is watching her, but there doesn’t seem to be any malice behind any of it. The Gumiho turns her head. She can’t get a good look with how the angles are, but she can tell they really mean no harm. 

“Did you want to join me?” She asks, patting the seat right next to her. “I was enjoying the weather. The tree blocks a lot of the sunlight so it isn’t too bright.”

The Vessel hesitates, then it nods, approaching with the manner of a shy creature. Its joints creak disconcertingly as it sits down, shifting slightly until it is the right distance from her—right beside, though not so close that it could feel her warmth.

Whatever she’s here to look at, it doesn’t quite understand the appeal. But... the sound of her voice is pleasant.

[palevessel]

The Great Tree’s canopy provides ample shade, shelter to many a strange furtive creature. The seasons here are fickle, and time passes far too quickly... or is this how it was always supposed to pass?

As the Vessel watches from a low branch, it thinks (It thinks? It thinks.) the shape moving below is familiar. Not like a friend it has met here... like a bug of old Hallownest, the first it has seen in an age.

It leans down to get a closer look... a little too far, and all at once it falls from its perch, landing hard on the ground. It barely seems to notice, much too transfixed by the sight before it.

Familiar is an apt description, but an inadequate one. Kin recognizes kin: this is unmistakably another of the King’s progeny. And she speaks, in a clear voice with which the rest of the siblings have not been privileged. Then this must be their sister, lone daughter to the Beast.

Gendered Child. There is no cause for alarm.

...Perhaps its presence here is shocking. It has grown so used to languishing in this place, it sometimes forgets all that which it once stood for.

It would like to forget.

It should not have a preference on the matter. It shouldn’t feel self-conscious, either.

You seek answers where none exist. Seek instead, something more attainable...?

@palevessel liked for a starter!

Cotes is... different now than what Hornet remembers. No, maybe it had been this way while she was here last, but she must have moved out of the ward by then. Regardless, it had changed enough and it had been long enough that Hornet considered it re-exploring- especially since she'd been given housing here.

The area is more magical now, for lack of a better word. Hornet knows no such thing exists, but she can't help but find herself at least a little in wonder by the sights in Cotes now. She isn't sure if this makes the place feel more or less like home, like Greenpath... but she does catch herself considering returning to her old ways of simply taking up residence under a tree somewhere here. And speaking of trees...

"My Wyrm," she mutters, taking in the grand Ophiuchus tree as she approaches. She'd seen its branches overhead for some time now, but hadn't put together that the forest canopy was all from one large tree instead of many smaller ones. She gets closer now, with the intent to climb the tree-

Something makes a clumsy landing about three inches from Hornet's face. Startled, she hops backwards, grasping her needle if need be. Then she realizes it's not just any something.

"You?!" She says. She was sure by now she'd be the only one she knew still in this realm. "What are you doing here?"

[palevessel]

An unnatural quiet, an all-encompassing restfulness falls over the city. Seemingly at random, the residents have started to drop into a deep slumber...

The silent Vessel jerks awake, fighting the sleep clinging to its form like so many grasping claws. It’s warm, inviting: you’re safe here, it says. Haven’t you earned this?

Sleep. Dream.

Its frantic sprint brings it to a public space, where it finds a sleeping figure slumped over a table. They seem... peaceful. But it knows better. The empty space of its mind still echoes with hateful, burning dreams. It reaches out and shakes the figure violently, praying they wake up.

[palevessel]

origingened​:

well, that makes them a little sad. eating is one of the best things in the world.

but at least if they get a cute cake, they can look at it together and enjoy the sight…? or would that make it feel bad? it doesn’t seem like it minds, but still.

[maybe someday i can figure out how to share the feeling of eating cake. until then, do you wanna pretend marry anyway?]

It’s kept its head pressed up against the window, almost enjoying the feeling of the cool glass. There is... a simple satisfaction in learning something new. It does not do that so often as it should.

Does it... want?

It turns to face the little floating creature. They don’t know what they’ve done, asking someone never meant to want anything to make a decision. What terrors they have unleashed.

Yes.

[palevessel]

A pen held tight in its uncertain grip, the wayward bug scrawls crude lines over a piece of paper. It knows... their family, if such a word could be used, numbers too many to fit on the page. But, in this moment it holds a selfish desire.

It’s too late to fix that now.

The drawing depicts two figures: the Hollow Knight, albeit much smaller, nearly unrecognizable as the same creature. And Father.

He doesn’t look quite right. There is a certain... quality to him, that cannot be captured. It tries again, and again, until the page is filled with increasingly desperate scribbles—all disjointed shapes, limbs and cloaks and wings, the sharp outline of a crown, dark eyes that haven’t held life in a long time.

It tries so hard, but it can’t even remember what he was supposed to look like.

It isn’t fair.

[palevessel]

origingened​:

oh, they’re going too fast. they slow down… just a bit.

when they get to the storefront, they do a little wiggly dance in midair as they wait for their potential spouse to catch up. there’s a cute round cake made to look like a tree stump in the window!

[these are cakes. they’re sweet food that you can decorate. people make them fancy for celebrations and parties and stuff.]

hm. it… doesn’t appear they have a mouth. that miiight be an issue.

[do you eat?]

Fortunately their destination is not too far. An unassuming little storefront... but when it peers inside, it is taken aback by all the bright colour inside. It presses its head against the window, simply taking in the sight.

Celebrations... parties... food. All concepts it understands, in theory. Just as it understands its own parents to have been married, in some fashion.

It knows the question is coming. At least they’re more observant than some others here have been. It shakes its head.

Alas. Such a thing is not for me to have.

But that means there is more for you.

[palevessel]

As the weather grows warmer, the Knight has lost any desire to remain indoors; the narrow geometric spaces of the city have long been more prison than sanctuary. Still, the wide-open sky is equally as frightening in its unfamiliarity. Though this world must end somewhere, it more often than not feels infinite.

It is drawn to quiet, sheltered places. Sacred places, like the one it once inhabited. Amid the sprawling roots of the Great Tree is where it takes its rest... disturbed by the occasional presence, but the tree's aura seems to repel those of a malicious nature.

Nearby, someone starts to hum. The music, however simple, is enough to gain the Knight’s attention.

Using its wooden sword as a walking stick, it limps over to the strange figure. And watches her, silent curiosity all it has to offer.

@palevessel​

She makes a mental note to come by the Great Tree more often. She hasn’t been here since…well, she actually doesn’t remember the last time she was here. She’s here now though and she feels that visiting this place was much needed. Something about forests and woods always felt familiar to her. Must be from her long, long ago past. 

She places a hand on the trunk of the tree and closes her eyes, humming. She doesn’t have any powers that allows her to speak to nature, but if she did, she’d probably thank the tree for all of its hard work. 

Hansol takes a seat beneath the tree. The nightsky looks gorgeous where she sits and so she’s staring up at the sky. Her tails wraps around her frame to keep her warm (the temperature is just right.)

[palevessel]

origingened​:

oh, it’s the creature that helped them with the goo (i totally forgot to reply to that thread but shh). it’d probably make a great marriage buddy! they circle it excitedly, then point behind them. there’s a bakery a couple of blocks down, and they always have really cute displays!

[this way. i’ll show you.]

without waiting for an answer, they begin zipping down the sidewalk.

Ah, they’re quick... they must have something good to show.

That wasn’t the only question it had, but the others can seemingly wait. It struggles to keep up, using its limited number of dashes.

[palevessel]

What is... cake?

[pokemon can fall in love, but marriage is a human thing. it seems kinda complicated.]

though… a big dress up party does sound fun…

…

[… would anyone want to play pretend marriage so we can have cake?]

[palevessel]

The shell removed, the object pulses with a sick, familiar light. Is this a joke? A trick, perhaps? If so, it is a cruel one.

Still, while the Vessel is repulsed, it is in equal measure captivated.

It is rare that it feels anything so strongly.

When the orb is offered, it draws its nail and knocks the offending object away, letting it splat on the ground. Only... it bounces, completely unharmed by the impact.

Its head tilts... one way, then the other. Cautiously it approaches, poking at the ball with a foot. Then it gives it a good kick. And another, catching up as it rolls away.

It’s... safe. It’s... strangely exciting, such a pointless activity. What is this feeling it has now? Is this how it feels to play?

🔮

Oh, it is you. The cold one. Come to take a crack at this orb business, huh?

A hard white shell has formed around this stone. I have a little hammer for situations like this. A few light taps and... Ah.

It. Feels soft. In a very disagreeable way. Filled with a bright orange goo, and almost... Yes, it is throbbing. There is some black object floating perfectly in the middle.

Oh, now a symbol is being made out. Some kind of... Four pronged symbol.

Hmm. I suppose this goo toy is yours. Here you are.

[palevessel]

Through the day it has stood, in the shadow of trees, so still that it might seem a statue, or part of nature itself.

Long after nightfall, as a light rain has begun to fall on the canopy above, its legs give out, in a sudden burst of movement as it collapses to the ground.

[palevessel]

The sky is mercifully overcast—dim, but not completely blackened as it had been moments before. The ground, a well-manicured field that stretches out in all directions, dotted with stones at consistent intervals.

As the Knight wanders along a row, reading the weathered inscriptions, it understands: this is a graveyard. Do the memories of the dead haunt this ground? Having no access to the world of dreams, it cannot know.

Regardless, it steps lightly.

It gets the sense, somehow, that one of these graves is meant to be familiar. It thinks on how a memorial was built in its honour back in old Hallownest... the last protection against being forgotten forever.

What is it looking for...?

[palevessel]

Oh, no. There’s a strange grub out there, completely unaware of the danger.

MOVE!!

For all the ferocity behind the thought, it still has no voice to reach the creature’s ears. It dashes in, grabbing them with a tendril of void as its one hand is already full with its weapon.

they don’t seem particularly concerned about the goo.

or… maybe they were already asleep when it started to rise. either way, they’re definitely taking a nap on a rock that’s dangerously close to getting consumed.

[palevessel]

From the void at this world’s heart, a sticky black substance oozes forth. The Vessel could be excused in mistaking this for something familiar. Comforting? No, the feeling is more neutral, but still it is strongly compelled to approach the ooze.

As the clinging substance climbs up its legs, it realizes its mistake. Somewhere below, a steady pulse beats. Something sick, reaching out to infect any creature it can take hold of.

White soul leaks from the crack in its mask as it tries to focus. Finally, a burst of energy explodes around it, half a set of wings flashing momentarily in an ethereal halo at its back. It tears free from the dark sludge, leaping backward out of the street.

The stuff is rising quickly. In another flash, it jumps onto a nearby windowsill, and from there onto a low rooftop. There doesn’t seem to be any way of stopping this...

...But if it can get others out of harm’s way, that is better than nothing. Someone else is up here, sharing the same predicament. It turns to face them, holding up its nail in a gesture of confidence.