They hadn't. Their head twisted away, toward the noise. There is no response to his risen voice, as the previous sound alone rings some instinct. Naturally, they are not aware as the owner of the shop is how uncommonly this sound comes.
Even so.
Behind the Relic Seeker's back, claws wrap around Nail.
Hornet has been tracking the Hollow Knight. Had been. She followed the trail predictably to the gaping space of the White Palace.
She had erred in her assumptions after that. She believed it still too weak to climb up the nearby shaft. After multiple passes, she found evidence of claws that can't belong to anyone else.
The City of Tears proved to be more terrible a problem. She finds herself losing its trail--their trail--(the little Ghost wrote, and called them such. They did not write to her, but to Herrah. She did kill them at least a bare dozen times. There's no reason to be bothered.) the moment she stepped into the downpour. The ruins of the ground hide the characteristic Nail-marks of their movement, and the water itself washed away what minute scent any Vessel holds.
There are worse places to have lost them, was Hornet's initial thought. The Fungal Wastes would be more dangerous and confusing. It also had many smaller tunnels that it--they--would never have managed to squirm through unnoticed.
She is unused to losing what she tracks. She's just as unused to the jittering anxiety that thrums through her with every corner turned.
The Hollow Knight is her responsibility, after all. Mother had only requested her rest. She could have done so nearby, and instead she chose to hide away on the other side of the Village entirely.
She is frank with herself; her nebulous emotion spurred her to avoid lingering. She isn't used to that either.
And now she may lose them.
Years, she'd waited for it--their death, through replacement or a final failure. The idea of their end being met on their own terms elsewhere should not bother her so. She has Mother. She has Ghost. Through the fall of her homes, the Hollow Knight had not been anything but a figure for disgust and pity.
Her brief attempts at rationalization doesn't work. Unsurprisingly.
Aimless wandering leaves her only more frustrated.
She goes to the first figure who might notice her sibling's presence. Emilitia is characteristically obnoxious. Hornet is uncharacteristically affected. She hasn't hissed at anyone since...not long after the Sealing.
Her mouth tingles with the foreign sensation well after she leaves.
There's another inhabitant she's aware of. She hadn't met the one who searched the ruins to bring to his own dwelling, but as he never desecrated beyond relocation, she never had reason to retaliate. With the Nailsmith's hut empty, it's there she goes next.
The door is opened swiftly.
Her eyes meet his.
Her eyes slide past him, to the hunched figure of her missing sibling, bent to fit within.
Hornet's Needle is never out of hand. The blade whips to aim directly in the center of his face. "You--"
The air goes heavy, and then it rushes.
The Hollow Knight's Nail slams her Needle to down in a parry, now looming outside the doorway between them.
no subject
Even so.
Behind the Relic Seeker's back, claws wrap around Nail.
Hornet has been tracking the Hollow Knight. Had been. She followed the trail predictably to the gaping space of the White Palace.
She had erred in her assumptions after that. She believed it still too weak to climb up the nearby shaft. After multiple passes, she found evidence of claws that can't belong to anyone else.
The City of Tears proved to be more terrible a problem. She finds herself losing its trail--their trail--(the little Ghost wrote, and called them such. They did not write to her, but to Herrah. She did kill them at least a bare dozen times. There's no reason to be bothered.) the moment she stepped into the downpour. The ruins of the ground hide the characteristic Nail-marks of their movement, and the water itself washed away what minute scent any Vessel holds.
There are worse places to have lost them, was Hornet's initial thought. The Fungal Wastes would be more dangerous and confusing. It also had many smaller tunnels that it--they--would never have managed to squirm through unnoticed.
She is unused to losing what she tracks. She's just as unused to the jittering anxiety that thrums through her with every corner turned.
The Hollow Knight is her responsibility, after all. Mother had only requested her rest. She could have done so nearby, and instead she chose to hide away on the other side of the Village entirely.
She is frank with herself; her nebulous emotion spurred her to avoid lingering. She isn't used to that either.
And now she may lose them.
Years, she'd waited for it--their death, through replacement or a final failure. The idea of their end being met on their own terms elsewhere should not bother her so. She has Mother. She has Ghost. Through the fall of her homes, the Hollow Knight had not been anything but a figure for disgust and pity.
Her brief attempts at rationalization doesn't work. Unsurprisingly.
Aimless wandering leaves her only more frustrated.
She goes to the first figure who might notice her sibling's presence. Emilitia is characteristically obnoxious. Hornet is uncharacteristically affected. She hasn't hissed at anyone since...not long after the Sealing.
Her mouth tingles with the foreign sensation well after she leaves.
There's another inhabitant she's aware of. She hadn't met the one who searched the ruins to bring to his own dwelling, but as he never desecrated beyond relocation, she never had reason to retaliate. With the Nailsmith's hut empty, it's there she goes next.
The door is opened swiftly.
Her eyes meet his.
Her eyes slide past him, to the hunched figure of her missing sibling, bent to fit within.
Hornet's Needle is never out of hand. The blade whips to aim directly in the center of his face. "You--"
The air goes heavy, and then it rushes.
The Hollow Knight's Nail slams her Needle to down in a parry, now looming outside the doorway between them.