#I admit that I know almost nothing about abyss monarch other than that it was corrupted in the same way as bp so that's the joke

[circusdraw]

he took the wrong path and ended up in sugarteara

[98prilla]

Wings of Change

AO3

I was in a Remus mood and this happened.

...

He was sore. God, he was sore. Not that it was unusual for him to be sore. He got into all kinds of mischief and life-threatening scenarios every day. His imagination wasn’t nearly as tame as Roman’s usually was, blood and guts and death, oh my!

 It wasn’t an uncommon sight, him bloodied and staggering down the hall to Janus’s room, or the living room, grin wide through red stained teeth, needing help patching himself up. Janus always grumbled and made a fuss about it, but with his extra arms he was fast, and always tenderly gentle, scolding him good naturedly the whole time.

 Once Virgil would have helped as well. He was almost better at it than Janus, his fight or flight making him eerily good at assessing injuries, which ones were serious, which ones needed cleaning, which ones needed tending to first. But more than that, he often stopped Remus before he went that far to begin with, appearing in the shadows of the imagination and dragging him home, or teaming up with him to defeat the day’s monster, making sure they both stayed relatively safe.

 Once he might have had Roman, watching his back, moving together as one, not needing to speak to understand the other’s movements. It was a well-rehearsed dance, one that was more familiar than breathing, one that brought to the surface a strange sort of quiet, in his mind, a soft silence reigning for a few precious hours, afterwards.

 But they had left. And he was used to pain. Pain of dislocated limbs, the sting of disinfecting wipes, the bubble of iodine, the wheeze of cracked ribs. Once Roman would have healed him with a snap of his fingers. Once Virgil would have stopped him from getting hurt in the first place. But now there was only Janus, to piece him back together after.

 And then the wedding happened.

 And Thomas, more importantly, Patton, admitted that Janus was right. That their thinking was too black and white, that deception wasn’t everything Janus was, that his advice and opinions mattered. He would have loved to lurk behind the television and watch, but he had other business to attend to.

 That business being Virgil.

He’d slowly creaked open the door, knocking softly on the door frame to alert Virgil to his presence. Now was not the time to scare the storm cloud. Virgil was already scared enough as it was.

 “go away.” Came the muffled response, tempest tongue tinging it dark and growling, the shadows of the room darker than ever, and if he were anyone else, standing in there for more than a minute would have him corrupted beyond repair.

 But he was Remus, intrusive thoughts, dark creativity, and anything the room could show him he’d already imagined himself, and though it was unpleasant, he knew they didn’t matter. Because Virgil was curled up under a pile of blankets, his shaking visible even from the doorway, the fear strong and visceral.

 “Easy, storm cloud. It’s just me.” He murmured, stepping inside and letting the door close shut behind him.

 “Oh goodie. All my worries are soothed.” Virgil snarked, voice trembling, and Remus let out a small huff, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He couldn’t tell exactly what was going on, out there with Thomas, but he could feel the negativity roiling out from the living room, and knew Virgil was overwhelmed, trying to process it all, absorb it all, disperse it all. They were overwhelming him, and no one had even deigned to check on him, choosing to ignore him.

 Thomas had chosen to ignore him. Remus knew that was hurting Virgil the most. That he hadn’t been called. That they hadn’t wanted him up there. That he had told the truth, bared his soul, and now Thomas wouldn’t even look towards his spot on the stairs. Carefully, Remus laid a hand atop the lump under the blankets, stroking his thumb in small, grounding circles, nothing more than a light touch. Virgil shuddered, but didn’t shift away.

 “why are you here? Shouldn’t you be using this time to wreak havoc, or something?” He laughed again, a soft, warm sound, not his usual cackle. The kind of laugh only Janus and, once, Virgil, were privy to.

 “I could. But even I know that would only make everything worse, and you’re already dealing with enough bullshit right now. I don’t need to add to the pancake pile of misery.” He stilled as the blankets shifted slightly, Virgil’s dark eyes peeking up at him, eyeshadow streaking down his face, more raccoon like than ever. “Let me help, kit?” He asked softly, Virgil’s eyes searching his for a long moment, before he nodded minutely, shifting to make room for Remus.

 He didn’t hesitate. He slipped under the covers, Virgil squeaking as he slid in behind him, pulling Virgil onto him, his head resting on Remus’s chest, their legs tangled around each other, Remus’s head resting atop Virgil’s as he gently ran his hands up and down Virgil’s arms to ground him, humming softly, slowly absorbing and siphoning some of the anxiety and fear and negativity from Virgil, into himself. Virgil let out a soft sound, halfway between a whimper and a sigh, and he shushed him, pressing a kiss to his head.

 “Y’know you don’t hav ‘t Rem.” Virgil slurred, eyelids drooping closed as the stress leaked out of him, his anxiety returning to normal levels as Remus took the extra.

 “It’s ok, kit. I can handle it. You’ve already done enough, for today. Later I’ll go up there and give them a piece of my mind, for making you so miserable.” He smiled at Virgil’s small laugh, the emo pressing closer to him, and Remus wrapped his arms around Virgil, holding him carefully close. “Get some sleep, Vee. I’ve got you.”

 “m’kay. Ree? ‘M sorry. I… missed you.”

 …

That was when it had started. It was small, at first, and he attributed it to his usual bumps and bruises, a sore back was rather tame compared to what he usually dealt with, of course. Still, he took it slow that day, choosing to rabbit hole down youtube, instead of wreak his usual havoc. He was still coming down from the effects of all the anxiety he’d absorbed in Virgil’s room, after all, and he didn’t want his creations getting away from him and doing actual harm elsewhere.

 But the pain only grew.

 Soon, his whole back was sensitive and tender to the touch. It hurt to bend, to stand, to move, to stretch. Even resting against the couch was a no go, any kind of pressure on it hurt like hell, made him bite his lip to contain the hiss trying to escape his lips.

 But he suffered through it in silence. Sometimes, he thought Janus knew something was wrong, his gaze lingered on Remus for a moment too long, he watched a little too closely as he shifted so his back wasn’t against the back of his chair, a small wince when he laughed, a forced smile here and there, Janus could see through them all, but he didn’t ask.

 Virgil was almost as bad. He’d lived with them, after all, and he was almost as sharp as Janus. After the wedding, he’d been visiting more often, which meant at all, really, but once a week turned into near daily, as Remus made sure to make him feel welcome, and Janus started warming back up to Virgil, started to close the icy abyss between them.

 It was Virgil who apologized first, to Janus. It was stuttering and slow, and a bit rambling and incoherent, but that didn’t matter. Janus knew what he was trying to say, could feel the sincerity of it, and before Virgil had even finished, he’d swept him up into a hug, using all of his arms, Virgil melting against him with a quiet sob, repeating the same soft words he’d said to Remus after the wedding for Janus.

 “I missed you.”

…

Objectively, Remus knew the others had wings. The light sides, that is. They didn’t appear in the videos, of course, only actually manifesting in the mindscape itself. He knew Roman’s were delicate monarch butterfly wings that he usually kept folded carefully against his back like a cape, and that he loved their look but hated how fragile they were, always having to be careful not to rip the paper-thin membranes. A hint towards the fact that Roman wasn’t as strong as he said he was, that he was, in fact, easily broken. He’d been allowed to feel them, once, it was like touching a cloud, soft dust coming away on his fingers in oranges and blacks, and no matter how much they had fought and scuffled in the imagination he had never once even dreamed of going after Roman’s wings, though they were his obvious weak spot. One clean shot of an arrow, one stab of a spear, one slash of a sword, would be all it took, but despite what they all thought, he did have some morals, and he would rather kill himself than steal flight from Roman. So, wings? Off. Limits.

 Patton’s wings were the incredibly soft looking, the fluffy wings of a mourning dove. Soft tan and black speckled, with a smooth cream underside, he roosted the most of all of them, fluffing up and resettling his feathers frequently, a self-soothing habit that made the moral side even more adorable than he already looked.

 Logan’s were the smooth, almost blue black and white speckled sharp wings of a peregrine falcon. He usually kept his primly tucked against his back, though if you sat near him, sooner or later they would stretch out, resting against whoever was near. He’d never admit it, but he loved it when the others stroked his feathers, preened them, while he read or studied or planned out a schedule. It helped focus him, and he found that touch easier to reach out and ask for than hugs or other kinds of touch.

 And Virgil. Virgil, whom had switched sides, had grown so much, had started letting them back into his life, had earned his wings through his hard work, his steady determination, through his acceptance. And they were beautiful.

 He complained about them, of course, more often than not, but Remus could see through the grumbling protests, to the pride underneath. Because he’d gained the magnificent wings of a Scarlet Macaw. They were a brilliant red, green, yellow, blue rainbow, and spread the widest of any of the side’s wings, the most powerful in flight, though Logan’s were, of course, the fastest.

 He’d been so self-conscious of them, at first. They’d grown in after the accepting anxiety videos, making Logan theorize that they were earned when a side was truly accepted. He’d avoided their calls for three days, after they came in, terrified out of his mind, before he couldn’t resist the pull of the summons anymore. But they’d all fawned over them, asking if he knew how to care for them, patiently teaching him how to groom them, broaching the topic of letting someone else help. It took a lot of time before he let that happen, before he trusted any of them enough to even come near his wings, to stop flinching whenever anyone reached towards him, pressing them tighter than was healthy against his back more often than not, cramping them painfully. But he got there.

 He wasn’t all that surprised, even, when Janus came out of his room, not long after the whole wedding debacle part two, electric boogaloo, swearing up a storm, furious as all hell, dark black wings in disarray, just a splash of vibrant yellow marking the top of his coverts.

 “Yellow headed blackbird. Nice.” He commented idly, Janus simply giving him a withering stare, before pulling on his gloves and heading upstairs, no doubt to rip into the light sides, not that they could change it back. It was the mindscape’s decision, and there was no going back. At least Virgil would commiserate. “At least they go with your theme!” He called, laughing as he heard the door slam.  

…

In retrospect, he was an idiot.

 To be fair, he was always an idiot. He was sure the others would argue against that statement, which made a soft, fuzzy feeling grow in his chest, that nearly numbed some of the excruciating agony wracking his body.

 He’d been laying on his stomach, chin propped up on his hands, idly playing with some new software on his laptop. It used the camera on the computer to register where your eyes were looking at the screen, and used his eyes as the pen to draw. It was a good way to keep himself distracted, it took a lot of focus, but he’d gotten sucked in pretty quickly, excited at the prospect of trying out new styles and techniques.

 So, he didn’t notice, at first, the now normal ache that had been going on for the better part of two months, starting to consolidate into lines of pain on his back. He gasped at a sudden shock of fiery heat, momentarily breathless. He moved to sit up, to try and grab a heating pack, or the heated blanket he’d snatched from Janus, which had seemed to help, but the movement sent another shock of heart rending agony through his chest, and he fell back to his stomach on the bed, hands fisting the blankets as wave after wave of piercing, soul shattering, mind numbing torment wrenched through his marrow.  

 It was fine, it was fine, it was manageable, he could handle this, he’d had worse, he could deal with this, figure out the rest later.

 It felt like his back was aflame. He could feel sticky wetness soaking his shirt. He could feel his muscles pulsing and pounding, could taste copper in his throat, could hear his pulse in his ears, and he realized distantly he was screaming, unable to stop, tears leaking down his face, all he was aware of, all he could feel, was the lightning tracing itself down his back, burning brands into his shoulders, like he’d been mauled by a dragon, like burning, breaking, pulsing, pounding, rushing, breaking, desperate agony.

 With one final pulse of flaming excruciation, he felt his back split open, the pain recedes slightly, gasping in air as his scream died on his lips, shaking from the force of his desperate, gasping sobs.  

 He heard footsteps pounding down the hall. Heard his door slam open, but he couldn’t look up, his knuckles white against the blanket, his teeth grinding so hard he was surprised they hadn’t already turned to nubs, and he let out a sharp, short yowling gasp as someone touched his back, trying to flinch away, the movement sending black spots across his vision. He felt a soft touch against his forehead, cupping his cheek, and he managed to blink his vision clear, surprised to see Patton’s pale face, eyes huge behind his glasses.

 “hey… da…d” He managed weakly, closing his eyes against a sudden muscle contraction, barely stifling his scream to a whimper, unable to even joke as he normally would.

 “Remus. We are going to help. What happened?” Logan asked, and he gasped in another breath to try and steady himself.

 “Dunno know, f-or once. W-was just… dr-awing. Been s-ore, two m-onths.” He answered, unable to stifle a cry as Logan attempted to move his shirt. “Pl-ease. Hurts, please…” He didn’t know what he was asking, exactly, just that he needed it to stop, he couldn’t think, it just had to stop!

 “Hey. It’s gonna be ok, ok? Just… Logan’s gonna take care of you. It’s gonna hurt, but he’s helping, ok?” Virgil, kneeling on the bed before him, covering his clenched fists with his hands, gently rubbing circles on them, pressing their foreheads together. “it’ll be ok.” Then Logan pulled up his shirt, and he screamed, blacking out.

…

“Oh. Oh Remus.” Roman gasped, face paling as he took in the red that covered his back, the two deep, pulsing slits on either side of his back, running from his shoulder blades to the base of his back.

 “what… what is this?” Janus asked quietly, eyes wide, Remus’s scream still ringing in his ears. He’d never, never heard Remus sound like that, scream like that, a true, piercing, pained scream.

 “two months… that was… that was the wedding. When… when Thomas accepted the dark parts of the mind.” Virgil said softly, not moving from his place close to Remus, not willing to let go.

 “it’s his wings. Lo, it’s his wings! They didn’t… they must not have formed right. They’re stuck.” Patton, voice shaking and horrified. “they’re trying to get out.” Logan inhaled sharply. He could see it now, the new muscles moving and shifting underneath the skin, the wing joints struggling to free the new appendages, pulling at the rest of his skin, making the slits wider.

 “I need to manually free them, or there may be permanent damage to both his wings and his spine. It’s not going to be pleasant. Patton, can you go heat up some water and bring me some soft towels? Roman, go get the first aid kit from under the sink. We’ll need the bandages.” They both complied with a lingering look back at Remus, who was trembling, moaning softly in his uneasy unconsciousness.

 “What do you need from me, Logan?” Janus asked, eyes meeting Logan’s, who adjusted his glasses.

 “Help hold him down? I don’t know if he has the strength for it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to thrash or lash out. I certainly wouldn’t underestimate it from him.”

 “I’ve got his arms.” Virgil said, startling them both. They hadn’t realized he was paying attention. Logan nodded sharply, and Janus climbed onto the bed, pinning down Remus’s legs. Logan pulled on latex gloves, taking a large breath, before carefully reaching into the leftmost slit.

 Remus did thrash weakly, falling still after only a moment, though soft whimpers escaped his lips, breath gasping and stuttering, Virgil ceaselessly murmuring to him, trying to convey safety. Slowly, Logan navigated the crumpled wing out into the open, feathers matted and sticky with blood. The other was a bit trickier, it seemed to be caught on something, and he winced as he had to painfully wrench it to get it out, concern growing as Remus didn’t react to the movement, even his whimpers ceasing.

 “Good. That went well.” Logan mumbled, looking up as Roman and Patton reappeared in the doorway, faces paling at the bloodied wings. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I hope.” Only Janus and Virgil caught those two mumbled words, as Logan ushered the two over.

 “Each of you take a wing. We need to stretch them out to their full length to try and get circulation going. Cleaning them thoroughly with the warm washcloths and water should also help in that department. Once we get all the viscera off, we can work on grooming. I’m going to attempt to clean his back and asses the total damage to it, I expect he’ll need stiches up and down his back, once we get the bleeding staunched.” Logan explained, already dabbing at Remus’s back with the cloth, relieved to find most of the bleeding had already stopped, it was mostly dried blood coating his back.  

 “Virgil. You don’t have to keep going.” Janus said softly, catching Roman’s attention, who was working on Remus’s right wing.

 “I do. I… all the times, he’s helped me, I have to at least do this.” Virgil answered, eyes closed, a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead.

 “what do you mean? What are you doing?” Patton asked, not looking up from his work.

 “He’s absorbing Remus’s pain. Taking it on himself so Remus doesn’t feel it. Remus can do the same, and often did, helping when Virgil’s anxiety was at unsustainable levels.” Janus explained, pushing back his hair before replacing his hat.  

 “Virgil-“

 “I’m fine, ok? He’s the one who needs help right now.” He snapped, the room falling into a tense, focused silence as they all worked, carefully dabbing, sewing, straightening, trying to get his wings into any semblance of normalcy.

 Virgil just prayed that they’d still be usable. Two months. Two months, it must have hurt like a son of a bitch, and Remus hadn’t said anything! He was supposed to be the observant one, the worry wart, he was supposed to expect things to go wrong and keep an eye out for when they did. He should have known, should have realized, after Janus got his, that of course Remus wouldn’t be far behind. Especially after he’d helped him, when no one else had and he knew, knew, in his soul, that Remus helping him that day was what shifted everything. It was his fault, Remus was like this because of him.

 “It isn’t your fault, Vee.” Janus murmured, sitting down beside him, setting his gloves aside. “I knew something was wrong, I just didn’t think it was this severe. He hid it well.”

 “He always does. He’s an actor, remember?” Virgil mumbled back, letting himself lean back into Janus’s embrace, letting the silent tears slip down his face.

 “We’re finished.” Logan said, wiping sweat away from his brow, cleaning up the washcloths and repacking the first aid kit, leaving it tucked under Remus’s bed. “I’ve sutured and bandaged his back, and it should heal up nicely, given time. His wings will need daily stretching, it may be hard for him to flex them to their full length on his own, given their extensive cramping, so we may need to help him hold them there. But the overall condition of the wings themselves is encouraging. Given time, he should be able to fly and they should have no lasting permanent damage.” Patton let out a deep sigh, sinking to the floor in relief, arms wrapped around his knees. Roman sunk down beside him, pulling him into a hug, Patton wrapping his wings around the both of them.

 “Thank you, Logan.” Janus said softly, teasing his fingers through Virgil’s rainbowed feathers, feeling him melt against him with a shudder.

 “Of course. I would suggest we all go get some rest. I would expect him to stay sleeping for quite a while, given the amount his body needs to heal. I’ll check on him this evening, to change his bandages, but he should be alright. Virgil, you can stop, now. He should be in a relatively minimal amount of pain, now.” Logan added, shooting a quick look at Virgil that held an entire lecture, and Virgil sighed, letting go, slumping further against Janus at the exhaustion washing over him.

 “alright. Let’s go, Pat. I’ll keep you company.” Roman helped Patton to his feet, hesitating a moment, stroking Remus’s new wings gently. “Get well soon, Rem. I can’t wait to fly with you.” He murmured, smiling once at the others as he departed with Patton in tow.

 “I’ll be going as well. I know there’s no use in trying to convince either of you to leave, though I would encourage you both to try and get some sleep as well, especially you, Virgil.” Logan said, nodding sharply once in farewell, closing the door behind him.

 “They are stunning. I expect he’ll be pleasantly surprised, at how they turned out.” Janus mumbled against Virgil’s back.

 “We match, kinda. He’ll never let me hear the end of it.” Virgil replied, smiling as he felt Janus’s laugh against his back.

 They were beautiful. They shimmered like gemstones, sparkling and shifting iridescence. They started off a sparkling amber, before fading into a soft yellow, then glimmering green, which shifted into vibrant reds, bright oranges, deep blues, at the slightest shift of the light. They were relatively small, compared to the other’s wings, but that was natural. They were easily recognizable as hummingbird wings, rather fitting for the ever-energetic chaotic side. Logan had carefully shifted them so they were tucked against Remus’s back, in the position that would cause as little discomfort as possible, though no matter what he did, they were going to ache a bit.

 “He’s going to be ok, Vee.” Janus murmured, wrapping his wings around Virgil, cocooning him in dark softness and warmth, something that never failed to put Virgil at ease, and soon enough, he was drifting off. Janus yawned himself, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, knowing he’d regret falling asleep like this in the morning, but he couldn’t help it as his eyes drifted shut.

…

 He was sore. But less sore than he’d been in weeks. He shifted, wincing at the dull ache that came with it, before realizing he felt something soft and light against his back, against his skin. He knew, before even opening his eyes, he knew.

 He should have figured it out sooner. Should have realized, and maybe he had, but he’d hoped he was wrong, been in denial, because why would he have gained wings? He hadn’t done a thing to earn them, he didn’t deserve them, maybe he should just cut them off himself, before the others saw them and started asking questions.

 “Remus.” Well shit. There went that plan. He managed to crack his eyes open, looking up at the slightly blurry face of Janus. “You do deserve them. You have earned them. Everyone was worried about you.” He winced, Janus always could tell just what he was thinking. “only when you’re lying, to yourself or to others. Which you are doing now.”

 “I’m not. I don’t deserve them, they’re probably horrible anyway, ugly and twisted and unusable and good for nothing, just like me.” He mumbled, looking away as he felt Virgil take his hand.

 “They’re beautiful, Ree. I promise, they’re none of those things. Logan said you’ll need to stretch them and build up strength, but you’ll be flying in no time. Take a look, yeah?” He agreed grumblingly, letting them help him to sit up, legs dangling off the side of the bed. Carefully, Virgil grabbed hold of one of the wings and stretched it out to its full length, Remus’s breath catching as he stared, incredulous. Slowly, he reached out, running a hand through them, marveling at their softness.

 “I’m gonna let go. Try and hold it here, okay?” Virgil asked, and he nodded. Virgil let go, and for a moment, it stayed extended, before it slowly curled against his back. With a small shake, Remus ruffled and resettled them, wincing at the tug moving them caused.

 “That’s good, Ree. That’s really good.”

 “I… I’m really gonna be able to fly?” Remus asked, voice small and almost afraid, and instantly, Virgil wrapped him in a hug, letting Remus tuck his head against his shoulder.

 “Yes. We’re all going to help teach you, help take care of them, help take care of you, and we’re all going to be there for your first flight. I promise.” Janus joined in, hugging Remus from behind, careful of his wings, a steady weight against his back.

 “You’re going to be a magnificent terror of the skies, Remus.” He let out a small laugh at that, hiccupping on a sob that escaped his lips instead, as he pressed tight into his best friends’ arms, both of them murmuring reassurances and encouragements and compliments, and he wouldn’t want to be anywhere, anywhere else.

[spacetimewraithwrites-archive]

Extra Special Writing Contest - Writeblr Summerfest

Thought I would try my hand at a contest entry for @writeblrsummerfest​. 

This short story was inspired by the provided image prompt and is told in the point of view of my character OmmilliCulos from the Thriving series—this could also be considered a companion to this piece.

EYE OF THE WANDERING SEAS

1,142 words recommended listening: “Sound Of Ligeia” by Ambyion

*  *  *

“Your Resplendent?”

Ommy hears Attaila, sees them standing inside their peripheral. Salty air breezes over the island, arresting Ommy's attention as waves of sight sync with the gemstone ocean, flashes of several warring events locking their mind in place. Ghosts of time unborn root them to the spot, sounds of bloodshed and death and horrid creatures robbing them of cognizance, faint images of power and soul fighting for survival.

Like waking from a dream, the roaring of the Edge swells to a crescendo as Ommy’s hearing sharpens and they fall back into reality. They inhale deeply, shivers racing around their damp skin, tugging their shawl tighter around their weak shoulders.

“...How much longer,” they say.

“By the time the sun is lowered from her arch,” Attaila says at their side. “Osillo predicts another quake once the burial is finished.”

Ommy glances sidelong at their battle-worn guard captain, OsilloLotas, standing still as a statue at the lapping boundary of the island. Their rifle resting against their chest, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

Attaila pinches their webbed fingers together. “Well...they said our experts predict quakes.”

“Have the other clairvoyant-empaths arrived at their posts yet?”

“They’re arriving now.”

They gesture across the water, over the goliath hole in the ocean dumping water at deadly speeds into an abyss so wide the few islands on the other side appear as specks against the horizon. The white water spilling over the Edge sprays a fine mist into the bright sky, surrendering to the thin winds of Holeph.

The tide sweeps across Ommy and Attaila’s feet. Osillo reaches over the shore to open the door of the traverser pod for them to enter as the islet is swept up by the rapid current and submerged once again.

The trio waits in relative calm while the sun starts to set, imbibing strong tea and consuming small filets and luxurious fruit within the pod. Their conversation is light, occasionally joined by the other clairvoyant-empaths and their handlers over their communication panels.

“This will be my second Sealing of the Eye,” Osillo says to Ommy when Attaila’s attention is set elsewhere. “But I did not attend the first.”

Ommy's warm, wide gaze roams over the scar running through Osillo’s clouded eye. “I am glad you are here to witness this.”

“I admit, I’m uncertain about what this ceremony is for.”

Attaila lets out a weary sigh in the corner of the boxy glass pod. “It’s well-known amongst those who are privy to this ceremony that it’s practically pointless. The rumors of anything being down in the depths have circulated for centuries, and no theory has been proven of yet.”

Osillo looks at Ommy, their own eyes slightly narrowed. “Is that true?”

Ommy folds their hands on their lap, a collected but otherwise cryptic smile playing at their lips. “Absolutely.”

“You’re a mystery at times, Your Resplendent,” Osillo says with heaps of affection. “I suppose you know the truth better than anyone.”

Ommy’s smile fades and they watch the surrounding water darken due to the diminishing sunlight. “...I don’t necessarily have a choice, do I?”

A vibration peals through the water, buzzing through the pod. Attaila moves to the comm panel.

“Was that a quake?”

Ommy spots a massive shadow moving in the distance, against the Edge, writhing, sinking back below the constant falls. They rise from their seat, but the shadow doesn’t return.

“Ommy,” Osillo murmurs, gently touching their arm with worry coating their pooling voice.

“Ah,” Attaila says at the panel. “A minor quake. Nothing to be overly concerned about.”

Ommy’s breath catches in their chest. Rippling, white-hot pain courses through their veins, their muscles on fire, dropping back down to their seat with an almost inaudible whimper. A strong, shaky image, pure greyscale, moving fast across their field of view, crystal shards shattering in their ears, a hulking beast lurking amongst the ocean floor within the uncharted zone.

They can feel their eyes beginning to fill with protective fluid as they sink into an arduous vision. Far away they discern Osillo’s hand clasping theirs.

The vision stutters and stammers, like decaying footage—a starburst in space, agonizing power so forceful it leeches the energy from surrounding lifeforms and Ommy, draining the universe of its stamina.

That vision bleeds into a large claw breaching the water, two intertwining monstrosities arcing into the air, through the atmosphere. Ice and water, folding into one another, solidifying, melding together.

Ommy comes to on Osillo’s shoulder. Neither they nor Attaila seems terribly affected by this, as Ommy’s strong visions happen quite regularly, but they’re weighed down by a sense of melancholy and hopelessness from the ordeal, and they take a shuddering breath to right themselves.

“Are you alright?” Osillo asks.

“Yes,” Ommy says. They smooth down the fabric of their gown with a trembling hand and bite back the urge to divulge what they’d seen as Holeph laws forbid doing so until it is pertinent. “How much longer?”

“Any moment now,” Attaila says.

Ommy peers through bleary eyes at the ocean surface, much higher than it had been earlier. The four moons have begun their journey across the sky and the sun dips well below the horizon.

“We are ready whenever you are, Your Resplendent OmmilliCulos,” a handler’s voice says from the comm. “The Eye is almost full.”

Ommy gets to their feet again. “Please allow me a moment to recover from a sight.”

“Of course.”

They close their eyes and press the tip of a finger to the center of their forehead. They envision the sapphire waters gliding around them, the unfathomable deep of the ocean floor beneath them. Hundreds of coral tubes towering over sunken islands, unclaimed treasures from ancient culture millennia ago buried beneath the dissolving sand.

Tendrils of warmth slither their direction, cast from over and around the Eye. Twelve clairvoyant-empaths on Holeph, all monarchs, all mentally joining to commence the Sealing, a simultaneous prayer for their planet to keep the mystery of the deep away from civilization.

Ommy throws in a personal touch, willing the waters to keep the Cyrio Faction guarded. For the health of Attaila and Osillo, and the success of future quests to keep the galaxy safe.

The ceremony concludes when the Eye is full and the ocean levels out. Attaila helms Ommy’s traverser pod to the central hub, where Osillo assists them both out once docked. They linger beside Ommy, who takes a quiet and hidden moment to rest their hands on Osillo’s arms.

Osillo surveys them. “I felt the connection you all had,” they say. “It was...beautiful. And warm.”

Ommy manages a smile through their exhaustion. “Thank you very much for being there, Captain.”

“I would give my life to protect my clairvoyant-empath.”

“Yours?” Ommy says. “From your home on Yalis?”

The low tilt of their head over Ommy’s corrects them.

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[sage-nebula]

Okay, since probably no one will send me things from this ask meme, I’m going to just go ahead and fill it out myself because I really want to talk about Hollow Knight some more.

🐞 Favourite character?

All three of the royal siblings (Little Ghost, Hornet, and the OG Hollow Knight) have a special place in my heart. Hornet especially, obviously, given that she’s the one that actually gets characterization; I love how seriously she takes her duty to protect Hallownest, but also how she recognizes that perhaps it’s necessary for the seals to be broken after a time, and how she allows that to happen even though it means the death of her mother. There’s so much in Hornet’s characterization, right down to how she calls out Little Ghost (or perhaps the player) for thinking she’s completely cold, even though she isn’t, but instead has had to harden herself to some degree to deal with being one of the few living among the ruins of Hallownest. But I love Little Ghost and the OG Hollow Knight as well. Even though they’re supposed to be completely hollow, we know that the OG Hollow Knight came to love his parents and that’s why he failed at being a perfect vessel for The Radiance. And Little Ghost? We’re meant to believe that Little Ghost is completely hollow, and that that’s why they have the Void Heart, but I can’t help but feel that’s not really the case given the fact that Hornet or other characters will sometimes remark upon Little Ghost being surprised, or other emotions. The White Lady says that she senses nothing from Little Ghost, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they feel nothing; it just means that the White Lady doesn’t sense anything from them.

That said, aside from the royal siblings, I have to give special mention to the Old Stag, because I love him with my whole heart. I love that he gets some hope after finding his nest and realizing that an egg hatched there at some point, and I dearly hope that there are other stags out there that he can connect with. I’m so sad that we can’t give him a delicate flower, because he really does deserve some beauty and happiness. He’s my buddy. ♥

🐜 Favourite enemy?

I think the crawlids and tiktiks are so cute. It almost makes me feel bad for killing them, tbh. So probably them, especially since they’re just minding their own business much of the time and so they’ve never really posed a threat. (Also, props to them for not becoming crazed with infection even after the Forgotten Crossroads changed to the Infected Crossroads. They’re the real MVPs.)

🕷️ Favourite boss?

Probably predictable given what’s above, but it’s a tie between either Hornet or the OG Hollow Knight. Hornet I love because fighting her is really like dueling her; it’s a lot of jumping over and dashing under, and a lot of sword clashing as well. Meanwhile, I love the OG Hollow Knight because of how many emotions that fight instills in me; the moment that the music turns tragic, and he begins injuring himself to try to avoid hurting Little Ghost and instead hurt the Radiance / infection), my heart just breaks for him. I love him. ♥

🏔️ Favourite area?

It’s a tie between the City of Tears, and The Abyss.

The City of Tears is just beautiful; I wouldn’t be surprised if most people said that’s their favorite area. It has such a haunted, melancholic feel to it, on top of being a sprawling area that’s so interesting to navigate. The statue to the OG Hollow Knight delivers as many tugs to my heartstrings as questions it raises, and you can also access Soul Sanctum from the City of Tears as well, which is another fascinating area full of so much interesting lore. The fact that the music in the City of Tears---particularly with the ambience of the rain---is beautiful doesn’t hurt, either.

Then there’s The Abyss. The Abyss is a gruesome, haunted place, but that’s why I love it. There’s so much history there, so much lore---and yes, it’s cursed history and cursed lore given the fact that millions of bodies litter The Abyss because that’s where the Pale King tossed vessels (his children) when they couldn’t hold The Radiance . . . but again, it just gives the entire place such a powerful energy. It’s where Little Ghost was born, after all, and the OG Hollow Knight as well, and there’s just something about that that has a powerful draw no matter how horrifying the place truly is (and it is pretty damn horrifying, let me tell you).

🎵 Favourite music track?

I have to give this one to “Sealed Vessel.” Not only is that build-up great, and not only does it throw itself into the track with epic force once it kicks up, but the way that it transcends into a somber version at 2:15 just breaks my heart. It’s incredible.

That said, Hornet’s battle music also got a fantastic remix in Godmaster, complete with a background chorus, but I don’t think anyone has uploaded the Godmaster tracks yet, alas. It’s still incredible, though. (Honorable mention also goes to the City of Tears music with the rain, which you can listen to in the link in the previous answer.)

🛡️ Favourite charm?

Mark of Pride, bar none, because it was given to me by the Mantis Lords after I passed their trial, and shows that the entire mantis village has given me their respect. Considering what I went through to get it, you better believe I’ll wear it with pride. (Also, the fact that it lengthens my nail so much is also a plus. You have to love that.)

🏃 Favourite ability or upgrade (Mothwing Cloak, Isma’s Tear, etc)?

In terms of lore, my favorite is Shade Cloak, because I feel that it’s the most fitting for Little Ghost. It’s Little Ghost embracing the Void, which is an intricate part of him, and it allows him to phase through things, which is perfect since dodging is such a necessary thing for him to stay alive. However, personally I abuse the hell out of the Monarch Wings, and often use those to dodge even when I don’t need to. (Plus, it just opened so many areas to me; I waited forever to get it, and it was so worth the wait.) So I’m torn between Shade Cloak and Monarch Wings for this.

💥 Favourite spell?

I kind of want to say Focus, since it keeps my reckless ass alive, but honestly, probably Abyss Shriek. It’s super powerful, I love that it comes from the Abyss, and I also love that it’s Little Ghost (and the Siblings?) screaming despite how the Pale King wanted them to have “no voice to cry suffering.” The irony there is delicious.

🗡️ Favourite nail design (Coiled, Channeled, etc)?

The Pure Nail, and not just because it does the most damage (but that doesn’t hurt), haha. I honestly just really love the design; the tight, intricate spirals are very aesthetically pleasing to me.

⚔️ Favourite Nail Art?

I really love the Cyclone Slash, since it reminds me of the Spin Attack from the Legend of Zelda series, and The Legend of Zelda will always be one of my favorite game series. However, the Great Slash is also great for being able to One Shot primal aspids. Anything that takes out primal aspids is excellent in my book.

📖 Favourite Hunter’s Journal entry?

I’m going to be mean and say Zote’s:

“Some rare creatures are so weak, so helpless, so inept and irritating, that hunting them gives no pleasure at all.”

I wouldn’t hate Zote so much if he didn’t absolutely ruin the ambience of Dirtmouth, but seeing as how he has continued to ramble on even after Bretta left, yeah, I take what little victories I can get, and the Hunter dragging Zote in the Journal is one of them.

That said, there are actually a lot of great Journal entries. I like the ones where the Hunter muses about abstract concepts, such as in the entry for the Infected Balloon:

“The infection creeping through the Kingdom’s dead veins . . . does it have a mind? Does it produce soul? Is it truly alive?”

As well as the ones where the Hunter shows that, despite how he wants to kill everything, he actually does have a heart and some feelings. This is evident both in the Oblobble entry, and in the Hunter’s Mark entry:

“Having a mate by your side . . . one that will never leave you until death. Strange. No mate has ever come forth to stay by my side . . .”

“I have no offspring, nor subjects, nor worshippers. The sum of my being, my learning, my instincts . . . I leave it all to you. Good luck, hunter.”

And lastly, the entry for the OG Hollow Knight is also one I love for the sheer feelings factor it brings:

“The old King of Hallownest . . . he must have ben desperate to save his crumbling little world. The sacrifices he imposed on others . . . all for nothing.”

Damn.

🗨️ Favourite dialogue?

God, honestly, there’s too much, simply because the way the characters talk in this game fits my aesthetic perfectly. But if I have to pick one off the top of my head, let’s go with this line from Hornet:

“Then do it, Ghost of Hallownest! Head onward. Burn that mark upon your shell and claim yourself as King.”

Have I mentioned that I love Hornet? Because I love Hornet.

💿 Favourite DLC?

Probably The Grimm Troupe, simply because it felt more like a story DLC than the others have. I will admit to being a bit disappointed that Godmaster is more of just a series of boss rushes than anything else. I was hoping for a whole new story segment, but alas.

🎭 Favourite ending?

Dream No More, as far as the original ones go, but I’ve been spoiled on the new ending for Godmaster (though I don’t know the name of it), and that has me so goddamn excited for the Hornet DLC. I only hope that beating Godmaster is not a requirement for the Hornet DLC, because goddamn . . . I don’t know if I’ll be able to. I’m struggling on the third pantheon right now, and that’s not even getting into the fourth and fifth ones, both of which I’ve read up on and are super yikes. :/ Either way, as heartbreaking as the Dream No More ending is, I do love it a lot (especially because it lets the OG Hollow Knight get revenge on the Radiance at last), but that new ending . . . that new one . . . oh boy.