i walk away from the soundless room~

[focusedvoid]

 (art by juvehiir)

 

The Shining City knows the Prin well. Significantly better than the Hallowed Heir, who keeps to the Palace nearly as much as Hallownest’s King. It’s not half as much of an event when they’re seen striding through the streets, escorted by none. They’re the one who escorts others, at times; Marissa in particular, after she gained a little too much attention in turn by their initial visit, or other such shopkeepers who found a surge in popularity after finding a royal customer. 

 

Thankfully, the worst of the dramatics and kowtowing tapered off as time went by. These days, Prin Ghost is given the occasional bow and a far more common wave, but barely any second glances.

 

Just as they wished.

And entertaining to everyone involved. 

 

Tucked within their cloak-wings, a good half of their brood clings, unknown to all but the most observant of passerby. Fuzz tickles with their silent laughter.

 

They wander with half a plan, furry heads popping out at their signals to observe and hide again. There's only a little rain to shake off afterwards. (A little? It's still plenty. Prin Ghost is used to such phantom considerations.)

An excellent game.

Comments

[oxydatum]

Being observant comes as part of an Archivist's job. More so, if one happens to assist the Teacher directly; meticulousness is a must.

Anyway, as he himself privately likes to attest, it is not nosiness but inquisitiveness, and of course it is much more interesting to see and pretend you didn't than simply not to look.

Across the street, Quirrel exchanges a list for an invoice with a preoccupied-looking metalsmith without so much as granting her eye contact. There are more interesting things to look at, and he's quite certain he caught something very small disappear behind the Prin's wings.

He has always rather taken a shine to that one. They've a way about them, or maybe it's better to say he has his suspicions. He has time - so today would be an excellent day to confirm.

"Thank you," says Quirrel absently, "excuse me." He's so distracted the metalsmith has to grab his hand and place the rolled-up invoice into it before he can move out of range. Surprised, he dips his head in a polite nod at her, and immediately sets off.

Quirrel subtly weaves through pedestrians and crosses a walkway, and with some excitement he quickens his pace to draw level with the much taller Vessel, and falls wordlessly into step as though he's just been assigned their personal aide.

[focusedvoid]

They glance down with customary threat assessment. Quirrel. Dangerous if he'd like to be, though they've never seen him want that. Monomon's assistant. Not the only one, but the most important, and the only Ghost had ever managed to recall the name of after their initial meetings. That is, after the Dreamer plan was proven unneeded and everyone ('everyone' being the Dreamers and their closest, specifically) wanting to gawk at the new little Vessel.

This isn't the time for such exasperating thoughts.

Politely, Prin Ghost adjusts their stride to be just a little slower.

Their wing shivers on the side Quirrel is on.

[oxydatum]

Dangerous perhaps, but Quirrel is currently unarmed, unless he plans to dole out punishment with a goods invoice.

He gratefully slows in turn. Keeping up isn't as difficult as it might be for some of the Palace attendants, but he'd been hoping they might match his pace. Good; they'll let him initiate conversation, it seems.

His head twitches just slightly. Like he instinctively went to look and caught himself at it.

"Hello, there," he offers, with a courteous little half-bow while on the move. He won't forget basic manners, even if there are rumours Prin Ghost reacts little to over-formality. Best not to push the envelope so early. "Should I suppose you're on your way somewhere important, Your Grace?"

[focusedvoid]

They flick their claws downward in dissent, and then their head up to peer around at the towering buildings. (Even now, the movements aren't fully natural to them, but they've had plenty of time to learn body language.) No-where in particular, you see. Just enjoying the scenery.

Ghost twitches their claws at Quirrel. And what about him?

...It's good to see him out and about from the Archives.

[oxydatum]

"Well, it's a fine time for a stroll. Business is certainly booming," he points out. Small-talk with a royal should be harder than this perhaps, but Quirrel is already delighted they're not immediately running him off. Asking about him? The rumours were certainly true about their nature.

"I'm running errands, nothing particularly scintillating I'm afraid to say. We're shoring up some of the conveyance ducts and - well! I seem to be the only one who remembers the part codes by heart, so I thought I may as well be the courier as well."

He flicks up the invoice, pretending to double-check said part codes. He is actually side-eyeing their wings.

"There's no hurry back, though, and the truth is I wanted to stretch my legs." Quirrel sounds a little candid here. And bolder, encouraged by how casually they're receiving him. "Now seemed like a good time to say hello. Quirrel, of the Archives. Whether you were aware or not," because it would be understandable if he had slipped their notice, "you are now, for better or worse. An honour, of course!" He gives an accompanying cheerful dip of the head.

[focusedvoid]

Ghost listens and approves with a tiny head-bob.

"Remember you," they sign, half to see if he understands. It would be a poor Archivist to not know how their Royals communicated, after all, but it's better to double-check early on. Just in case.

--'In case' being knowing if they can sign to their family above another's head. Sometimes it's necessary. More often, it's a matter of playful gossip.


There's a shiny black orb sticking out between two strands of cloak-wing. Ghost pretends not to notice.

[oxydatum]

Quirrel's gaze immediately centres on their hands. He's familiar, apparently.

"I see! Well, then it's twice the honour!" And it's true, at least in some way, because he seems a little brighter still for that. They are encouraging him terribly!

...He, too, pretends not to notice, but he's less good at it. His line of sight strays for a second. "Hm," says Quirrel, and pretends to be distracted with a stall they're passing.

When he faces front again, he decides the small talk part of this exchange has been adequately satisfied.

"You seem to have picked up some rather small hitchhikers, Your Grace," he says, in such a casual how-about-the-weather way that it would attract no second thought from any passer-by even if he hadn't lowered his voice quite a bit.

[focusedvoid]

A claw lifts, tapping the tapered point of their mask. Whatever could he mean?

With a rustle, the eye disappears.

Only to be replaced with another one.

And then two.

And then a whole miniscule moth head, sticking out the tip of their snout to stare Quirrel in the face.

Ghost sweeps their hand down to catch them in case they fall. Which, predictably, they nearly do, when they stick a fuzzy paw out to reach for Quirrel's invoice. Their end-pronged antennae fan out. A paper? A paper for Pepper?

[oxydatum]

Quirrel is delighted.

The surprise of it has him swish the paper up to his face like a hand-fan for a moment with a short laugh. He knew there was something going on here - the mystery had been whether or not they'd admit it to him. He likes Prin Ghost very much already.

Mindful that they're still in public, Quirrel quickly faces front again after he's gotten a good enough look. If the Prin is keeping up the facade, so will he! Let it never be said he can't play along.

"Oh, would you look at that," he remarks, without looking at that, because they might as well pretend nothing is happening for a little while longer. He sounds very pleased. "Now I have seen it all. My goodness."

He runs a thumb along the top edge of the invoice, folding it down a bit to minimise the risk of a papercut, and without looking he holds it back and up into the little one's reach. They may touch!

(The invoice also conveniently shields them from passers-by. By anyone else's perspective, the Archivist is trying to offer the Prin an important document, and that's all! Nothing to see here.)

[focusedvoid]

This isn't the first time Ghost's taken their children out, but it's rare that anyone's noticed, and rarer without kicking up a fuss. This is a charming interaction, to be certain.

Pepper grabs the paper and stares at it intensely, 'reading' it. Nevermind it's sideways now, and that they do some of that by tapping some of it with their antennae, as some do with words written in stone. Bap-bap-bap. Some of that might catch Quirrel's fingers, which they 'read' just as intensely.

Another head worms their way into staring, face sticking out above their sibling's.

Contemplatively, Powder stares somewhere around Quirrel's bandanna.

One of Ghost's claws slide up to block their view, just as they start wiggling into position. No, they're not allowed to jump on top of his head. (Yet, perhaps.)

[oxydatum]

The important thing here is that the Prin appears to be avoiding attention. The tiny little things are quite hidden beneath their wings - or they were, before Quirrel's sharp-eyed nosiness got involved.

The fact the Prin would deign to hide them and still go out in public is the part that hooked him. It's not that he would dare to accuse a royal of such things, but...

The whole thing stings of mischief. And Quirrel is rather privately elated about it.

He sneaks glances, here and there, and stills his hand for the feathery antennae-frisking. They look delicate! Best not to make sudden moves.

"I had a feeling something was going on," he admits. He doesn't think he'll get in trouble for pointing out the semi-secrecy. He rather feels he's in on it, now.

His hand shifts, putting the paper a bit closer so that he can sneak a quick moment of overly-careful thumb-based petting under Pepper's chin. Quirrel then takes the invoice back, mostly so that he can tuck it under his other arm.

"They're lovely." He means it, too. It's written all over him.

[focusedvoid]

Pepper abandons their reading to set their face right on Quirrel's finger. He's warm, and Za isn't having them keep away. Following their lead, Powder reaches down to pat his finger at the first joint.

There's significant twitching along Ghost's shell. The other little ones are curious, but stay put when they tap hide-wait-soon across their wings.

"Yes. You're the first to notice this time."

They slide their hand to tuck the little moths back into hiding, and nod smugly. They are, aren't they. Ghost and Haze's own lovely impossibilities. If Quirrel is anything but delighted, he's a fantastic actor.

Prin Ghost's head tips vaguely to the side. After a moment, their steps begin listing in that direction.

[oxydatum]

Oh, and they're so interested! Quirrel has no idea how they aren't spilling out into the street to investigate everything in sight. He finds it so charming... Still, they've been disappeared for the time being, so Quirrel stops fussing.

First to notice. He'll admit to a little pride there. Being keen-eyed is a useful skill for someone of the Archives.

And - this time! So they have done this little hiding trick before. Quirrel is certain now of Prin Ghost's sense of humour. They certainly don't seem upset that he's found out.

"I hope you'll tell me if I'm taking up your time." Used to trailing the Teacher by now, Quirrel smoothly takes the cue and follows like this had always been part of the day's plans for them both. With only a mote of cheerful accusation, he asks: "Do you do this often?"

[focusedvoid]

It's been a while since they got to see anyone new. Well, a while to grubs. A little over a month, Ghost estimates, since Ze'mer had convinced her beloved Mantis Ambassador to visit. The little moths had flocked behind her until Hazewing distracted them a few times.

Grubs need enrichment. This walk is enrichment, and new people are enrichment, as well as something they like. Quirrel is reasonable on all counts.

Ghost gives a noncommittal hand-wave to both questions. He needn't worry...and they're focusing more on their surroundings as much as they are teasing.

They stride behind stalls and into a narrow opening between buildings as though they belong. Which they do, technically. Few would try to bar them from anywhere; there's an unfortunate habit of denizens to look away from those above. As evidenced by the den of torture the Soul Sanctum turned out to be.

Perhaps they're being uncharitable. They're a Knight, trusted for deed as well as word; tearing the Sanctum apart and rescuing the few left is something they take pride in.

They lightly shake their head in the shadows and fold onto a convenient stoop. Undignified for even a noble, they give it no notice as their wings drop away.

Seven little faces draw back on Ghost's lap and fix stares on Quirrel's face.

[oxydatum]

Their rather vague answer just gets a chuckle out of him.

Quirrel follows-beside until they're out of sight. He suspected this might be the goal, and honestly it fills him with a private kind of glee. To be let in on some royal secret isn't even the main thing here, though that's amusing in its own right.

The important thing is the children, and this becomes clear as soon as the stage-curtains draw aside. Quirrel draws up in front of them and lifts a fist to his face, quiet for a moment in sheer delight.

"Oh, look at you all. Hello, there!" His voice turns softer, and he raises a hand to give the little ones a similarly small wave as he leans in a little bit closer. "Experts at hide-and-seek, I see! Oh, Your Grace, they're quite adorable, aren't they."

Now that he has a better view, there are quite a few details that come to light for Quirrel. He will withhold his questions for a moment or two, though. The privilege of seeing them is not to be rushed.

"...May I?" He holds out his hand, back-first. Quirrel has already fussed with one of them, but this is a little more of a deliberate reveal and it feels right to ask this time if it's alright to touch.

[focusedvoid]

The newest members of the Royal Family are an open secret. Prin Ghost made little effort in either hiding or showing their existence. The residents of the White Palace keep all close to their chests. The Moth Tribe knows of them through Hazewing, and Deepnest through Ghost's first confusing days of realizing what their eggs originally were.

What Quirrel knows--or what Quirrel thinks he knows--is a mystery. As much as their children, though not quite so obvious in intensity, they watch him.

The shiest stayed with Da. They're all very, very interested in Quirrel, and so only divert fourteen eyes from around his face down to his encroaching hand.

A little bit of the City's rainwater, diverted along the tops of many buildings and artfully into canals, sprays over to mist them all. Cinna twitches beneath it.

Fondly, Ghost brushes the remainder from their fur, and nods.

[oxydatum]

He gives a soft chuckle at the light spit of rain, about as unbothered as they are, and just tucks the paper invoice under his arm out of the way.

These little ones are so very cute. It would be difficult for any bug to deny this as fact and Quirrel is no special exception.

Permission granted, Quirrel moves his hand closer, slow and gentle, and unfolds his hand to offer up his fingers to Pepper and Powder for further examination - if only because they were among the first to interact with him directly, and they're conveniently close.

"Hel-lo," he cheerfully sing-songs at them all. "What a charming little bunch you are. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He knows he is being carefully watched, and he would expect nothing less. That, perhaps, is the most normal thing in the world for a parent - White Palace status notwithstanding.

[focusedvoid]

Ah, but Quirrel is special, just for that. Objectively cute in a vacuum, perhaps, and cute to their immediate family, but most bugs start out looking very different, even if only for a little while. Those now dubbed Voidkind seem one of the rare oddities. Many others are unsettled by their diminutive-yet-adult appearances and silent stares.

Ghost doesn't care what they're thought of. They do of their children now, and many who think their hearing is less than it is have seen their Nail drawn.

Pepper and Powder take shuffling steps forward, Ghost's legs as their platform.

Powder, again, pats over his fingers, both of their own hands so tiny as to barely be able to reach around one.

Meanwhile, Pepper studies it a while until deciding yes, it's still a good hand, and falls onto it to mash their face into his palm.

One of Ghost's hands come up to cover a mouth they don't have.

[oxydatum]

Quirrel is bright enough to stay in the role of the Teacher's spare hand, and that undoubtedly means there's a lot he isn't saying. But the fact remains: small things are cute.

Even if there's a slightly jarring dissonance in the way these particular kids look a little like larger creatures scaled small, which Quirrel is not about to question to the face of Hallownest royalty. This is perhaps also mitigated a little bit by the odd company he keeps.

Whatever is going on underneath the kerchief, Quirrel is plainly endeared by the little ones' enthusiasm. He cups his hand around Pepper's back, loosely, making it very clear he is not the grabbing type, and pets affectionately at their fluff.

For lack of anywhere else to put it, and wanting another hand free, he pins the invoice between his knees and reaches down with his newly-spared hand to do the same for Powder. They're so soft! And small! (And - kind of biologically fascinating, but this is swept neatly aside for the time being.)

After a moment he tilts his head up and offers Ghost a thoughtful look.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but I haven't been privileged like this in some time. I'm afraid you may have to pry me away with a Nail!" Amused, Quirrel permits himself one question, at least. "I'd heard rumours. How old?" There, that's politely vague and still offers some admittance that he wasn't entirely out of the loop.

[focusedvoid]

Ghost reacts little. They don't need to. If Quirrel intended harm, they could remove his arm in an instant.

Not that they need to consider that, either. It's fine.

More than fine, they decide as Pepper flicks their wings against his hand, startling at the little noise it makes. Grubs need physical affection. Ghost gives that affection. Hazewing and his give that affection. Hornet and hers do as well, but they aren't around them much.

That should change. A visit, soon.

--Or an invitation. Their little Voidmoths disappear into darkness too easily. Hazewing would have a conniption if that happened in the Beast's Den.

...As would Ghost, admittedly.

Powder barely glances behind their back before flipping over Quirrel's fingers, hanging on upside-down.

"Three seasons," Ghost answers after further not-mouth-covering.

(This despite the rumors starting nearly ten seasons ago, and few eggs taking more than two.)

The others draw forward and start doing the same hand exploration. Tap-tap, pat-pat.

Their Za leans forward to cover them again? No, they're just plucking Quirrel's paper from where it's awkwardly held.

A little ways back from the rest, Cinna is staring at kerchief, gears turning in their little head. Not horns. Not jewelry. Not helmet. Almost helmet? Nobody in the White Palace has something quite like it.

They slowly stick out a little hand, as though they can reach it from a distant, little claws grasping. No, can't touch it from over here. They get a little closer.

"...Soft? Soft helmet cloth?" they ask tentatively.

[oxydatum]

Powder's further exploration gets a chuckle out of him. Unabashedly curious, he carefully lifts his hand just an inch or two to get a better look. He takes great care to keep them dangling over the safe landing of Ghost's lap while he takes a closer peek at their wings.

"How tenacious! I certainly wouldn't have held on so well at that age - oh!" He unpins the invoice and lets Ghost take it. "Thank you. In the Archives it's the Kingdom for a spare set of hands - unless you're the Madam."

They're lowered again, if only because the other little Voidmoths were in the middle of evaluating his hand as well and he's loath to take it away from them.

Cinna's gesturing gets his attention. And he pauses, digging for the right word.

"Hm. I'm afraid I may be rusty, but I think the word you're looking for is - scarf," he signs, a little hesitantly, and half-apologetically looks to Ghost for confirmation. "That is right, isn't it? Only I can't remember if there's a specific sign for kerchief."

His free hand leaves Pepper a moment and begins fiddling at said kerchief, working it loose. Yes, he'll donate that to the Voidmoths' interests, too. He's rather smitten.

[focusedvoid]

Unfortunately, his attempt fails. Because Powder is now crawling up his arm upside-down.

It would be polite to try stopping them. Instead, Ghost waves the paper between their fingers, deciding to wait and see what Quirrel might do about it.

"Scarf, for around necks. I don't know that word." They spell k-e-r-c-h-i-e-f out, but shrug. The little ones aren't so good at that. And Ghost only knows 'scarf' from an odd fad from Deepnest among the more obnoxious of Hallownest's nobles.

Pepper flutters to the ground. It's easier to judge how to start climbing Quirrel's legs from here.

[oxydatum]

He is oblivious for a short moment while he assesses scarf-related topics and manages to undo his own. "Hmm... We'll try head-scarf, then, that would suffice quite well and I'll sign it when my hands are..." Not about to be free, are they. Ah, now he's noticing. "Oh!"

With some self-control he manages not to jerk his arm in surprise, though he does let go of the fabric and lets it flutter to Ghost's lap (to land softly by Cinna) as he darts that hand beneath Powder as a safety measure.

"Aren't you the adventurous one! Please, mind your antennae. They are quite ticklish and I'm concerned about dropping you... Oh," he adds again, glancing down. Oh indeed. "It seems I'm becoming a climbing frame."

...He doesn't sound very distressed. The opposite, maybe, though he does keep a sharp eye on the Prin to determine whether this is ruled as acceptably safe or not.

[focusedvoid]

Cinna dives onto the head-scarf in a decidedly predatory fashion, immediately jamming a corner into their mouth.

With a well-practiced movement, Ghost pops the tip of their smallest claw in with it and scoops it out. Cinna is just as happy to be chewing on their shell, pulling the cloth up over their head and Za's hand.

The Prin only needs one to sign laughter anyway. As well as, "All right?" They can tell the rest of their shadow-swarm is getting ideas...

Powder wants to examine Quirrel's face from his shoulder, but gets distracted, clinging onto his elbow to stare down at Pepper.

Pepper is much faster in their ascent, determined to get some kind of holding or snuggling done!

[oxydatum]

He's having a hard time keeping his voice straight. There is something very funny about seeing a little Voidmoth biting away at his possessions with no hesitation. A now-uncovered antenna gives a telltale twitch.

"I'm quite fine, thank you, I only - how are they with falling? I see wings, but that doesn't necessarily mean -!"

Quirrel cuts off and scoops his hand under Pepper, who seems to be throwing caution to the wind. Enough of that, they're getting a free ride. His hand travels beneath Powder as well, pushing up beneath their feet to encourage them to let go and stand on his hand as well. Then it'll be the both of them carried up to his face level.

He manages to keep his enthusiasm in check just enough to keep half a sense of where the others are headed - this seems to be becoming rather a test of his ability to spread his attention - but at the same time, the temptation currently proves too great.

Quirrel dips his face in and delicately offers the face of his mask to the two Voidmoths in his hand.

[focusedvoid]

"It won't hurt them," the Prin signs vaguely, sitting back.

Pepper immediately plops down to sit on Quirrel's palm and starts tracing around his eye. With their paws. And their snoot. Whatever that accomplishes is known only to them.

Za lightly swings the head-scarf behind Cinna's head. They try to grab it without letting go of the finger they're chewing, which fails utterly. They don't care about it, and it vanises soon after.

Powder puts a palm against Quirrel's mask too, but peers upward, obviously already thinking about climbing higher. "Antennae," they pull back to say, pointing to their own that fluff out to look like a trio of such at the roots, and then to his significantly smaller and more average set.

The rest are watching with heavy interest. Burnet leans forward enough that they tip over, clinging to Za's knee-joint upside-down now. Ghost lifts their leg and wiggles it softly, watching their wings flutter indignantly, a common game. Quickly distracted, the others start to find places to hold onto.

[oxydatum]

"Marvellous," he remarks, quite offhandedly, and very quiet so that his voice doesn't spook the little one patting around his face. It's reassuring to hear they won't be harmed, but he doesn't look like he's keen on letting them fall regardless.

All of this is quite the privilege, but perhaps it would be even if the family wasn't royal.

Since Powder asked - or, at least, compared - Quirrel tilts his head forward a bit and lowers both antennae down almost to their level, waggling them just overhead.

"Not quite as impressive I'm afraid, but as functional as any." He squints, then, at Powder's, and concedes: "As most."

He addresses Ghost, though he doesn't look away from the little ones and only a very slight tone shift will tell.

"I've never seen the like," and quickly: "which I intend entirely as flattery. Forgive my curiosity but I don't believe I'm sharp enough to determine the other lucky parent...?" Unspoken: he has no idea how these genetics have happened, much like most. Though unlike some he's opted to ask in the most ordinary way possible.

[focusedvoid]

Powder takes that as permission to flicker their wings and flutter up to land between antennae, turning to examine them from the top. Their Za thinks it's funny even as they shimmy forward, freeing their claws from Cinna's grip and pulling out a shiny silver ring of metal to gnaw instead.

"A steadfast member of the Moth Tribe, I'm sure you've observed that much. Unless you've visited the Palace quite recently, you are unlikely to have met the specific individual." Dear Hazewing shies away from being too known. Ghost doesn't blame him.

[oxydatum]

He's looking at them without turning his head too much. There are little Voidmoths perched on him that he doesn't want to disturb, even for politeness' sake.

"Now, that would be hard to miss! Yes, I gathered that much." Quirrel laughs lightly. A name is too much to ask then, or they'd have said. He doesn't pursue it. "I'm afraid my visits to the Palace are infrequent. I am to remain at the Madam's call as well, and that does keep me busy. Socialising hasn't made it onto my list as of yet!"

His antennae twitch back up into place, fidgeting once before going still.

"Be careful up there. I'm not used to being a platform."

Quirrel cups behind Pepper with the hand they're not standing on, and resumes fussing at their fluff with one thumb.

He is doing a remarkable job at holding very still.

[focusedvoid]

Prin Ghost is rustling their legs together, feeling their little voidmoths skittering around more than watching.

"I don't blame you. It's a poor place visit often, and worse to socialize at." Trust them, they live there. Or perhaps that's a better reason not to trust them...? They're desensitized to the grandeur of the place, and most to encounter are either awestruck worshippers of the King on important mission, or the King himself and his family. The Prin loves their Siblings, certainly, but the rest they can take or leave.

(And oftentimes, they leave.)

Powder sits down between the antennae, sticking their paws out to Pepper, who grabs on instinct and gets yanked up Quirrel's face with wild leg- and wing-flailing.