They hadn't thought about it at the time. It doesn't really matter, and they don't feel much guilt over it--later, they might even find amusement, looking back at how confusing their small form storming through the main road could've seemed.
The Knight had come by worrying about Myla. Now, they worry about Myla and their sibling--but they've both settled somewhat. They're working on Myla's situation; they're going to visit Deepnest to see their siblings, or to know where they might try tracking them next. A plan is a foundation, they're aware, as rarely as they stay steady on one.
I want to, they choose. It isn't pleasant, but now is as good a time as any.
And they don't want their nerve to fail them.
I didn't know I was from Hallownest. I didn't know where it was located. I didn't know what Hallownest was. I don't entirely know where my memories begin, only that it was somewhere in the wastes well away from it.
This was still true when I was by the Cicatrice termite fortress, to the North-West. Near Ivolis, they add, as a city that had grown into a fairly well-known travel hub the last they'd passed through.
(And it was, about a century ago. Currently it's in ruins after a wildfire burned the whole thing to its foundations, even underground, where parts are rumored to still smolder. In any case: it is very, very far away.)
I was there for work. A beat. They don't need to censor this, really. I'd been hired to track where the alates were going, despite not having functional wings and never indicating tracking as a job I would actually take. I was going to try to see if I could sell the wings if I could actually follow any.
They twitch the quill dismissively. Recalling the sheer exasperation of this helps kill the remaining urge to dither.
It wasn't going to happen for a while. I was bored but prepared to wait outside of the soldiers patrol routes. And then I heardfeltheard It was as though my mask had burst from the inside-out and healed before I could feel it. I knew it was a cry of some kind. It was pain. It was fear. It was not my own. And I knew the direction it came from, if not where, or who, or what.
no subject
The Knight had come by worrying about Myla. Now, they worry about Myla and their sibling--but they've both settled somewhat. They're working on Myla's situation; they're going to visit Deepnest to see their siblings, or to know where they might try tracking them next. A plan is a foundation, they're aware, as rarely as they stay steady on one.
I want to, they choose. It isn't pleasant, but now is as good a time as any.
And they don't want their nerve to fail them.
I didn't know I was from Hallownest. I didn't know where it was located. I didn't know what Hallownest was. I don't entirely know where my memories begin, only that it was somewhere in the wastes well away from it.
This was still true when I was by the Cicatrice termite fortress, to the North-West. Near Ivolis, they add, as a city that had grown into a fairly well-known travel hub the last they'd passed through.
(And it was, about a century ago. Currently it's in ruins after a wildfire burned the whole thing to its foundations, even underground, where parts are rumored to still smolder. In any case: it is very, very far away.)
I was there for work. A beat. They don't need to censor this, really. I'd been hired to track where the alates were going, despite not having functional wings and never indicating tracking as a job I would actually take. I was going to try to see if I could sell the wings if I could actually follow any.
They twitch the quill dismissively. Recalling the sheer exasperation of this helps kill the remaining urge to dither.
It wasn't going to happen for a while. I was bored but prepared to wait outside of the soldiers patrol routes.
And then I
heardfeltheardIt was as though my mask had burst from the inside-out and healed before I could feel it.
I knew it was a cry of some kind. It was pain. It was fear. It was not my own.
And I knew the direction it came from, if not where, or who, or what.