Hmm. Finding that they do not rest often does not mean she's wrong, but it makes more sense how they might have fallen into this trap. Best to be direct, then.
She holds their stare.
"Ah... Resting within. Were you thinking of your troubles, or trying not to think of them? Do you recall every moment as if waking? Do you find yourself wanting to sleep within sleep? - Perhaps not, and dream-walking does not tire you as it would a Seer." Seer holds out her hands to them, palm-up. "Hard to believe! It tires the Soul out of me. May I look at you?"
Is not sleeping here enough? Seer's plucked the thought from their mind, it feels. The Blue Lake is glared across again.
Wanting to sleep within sleep. That feeling is more than familiar, though they previously hadn't put their claw on what it was those other times they'd slept. Or believed they'd slept. Dream-walking, she calls it, and asks--
The Knight can't easily bristle, but they transfer their heavy gaze to her hand. Look at them, she asks. Will she look at them and see what she expects to see?
...She'd apologized. She hasn't once bowed or acted their lesser, not even to the Lord of Shades' terrifying form. She'd held them and allowed them to hide beneath her wings, they remind themselves. They aren't being fair, dwelling on that.
Alright. Yes. Fine. They set their quill down and drop their paw into her palm.
She rests her other hand over the top, loosely holding onto their paw. There are plenty of things that are more easily done with permission. Seeing is no different.
Instead of trailing around the edges of the Shadelord, Seer peers in. (She suspects they do not know how to let her; plenty of ordinary bugs don't. She finds her way regardless.)
At once, the Shadelord might feel like they are being observed, a near-eerie feeling for most, similar to the prickle at the back of the mind when one instinctively knows someone is looking their way across a room. Some Siblings may feel it. Others may not. Right now she is a very small light looking in from the outside, and:
The Lord of Shades is vast.
Seer knew this before she started, but the expanse of their mind unfurls beyond her sense and she cannot fathom the edges, darker than pitch. She is certainly not used to this.
"...I'm sure I don't have to tell you," she murmurs, "but for my sake it might be wise to hold quite still."
Now she's plucking the thoughts from their mind, it seems, or something near enough to be noticed. Their claws twitch once against her palms, and then they go still as possible.
Seer is a moth, seen through the Knight's eyes. Seer is a light, seen through the rest of them. They remember this, the form they followed despite being killed by the last thing they'd chased. She'd asked if they would fade, and they chose.
The bravest Siblings are half-eavesdropping as they commonly do. She's glared at by several, and the Knight bids them to settle.
Meanwhile, Greenhorn and a sweep-horn sibling are still dazzled by their water encounter, and Strongest Knight Sibling doesn't need them to calm very much.
The Void looks back at a tiny purple light, something so easily crushed beneath its might, and waves a shy tendril.
She can pick out fractions of sentiments, flickers here and there of memory and intent. Soul cloaked in Void, Essence too scattered to read, little shades confusing the bigger picture with their sheer multitudes...
The simplest thing to do is to look deeper, but she knows better. An experienced Seer is never so eager to delve so quickly.
...No, not confusing. Difficult to discern as their feelings are, they are part of the picture, not in front of it...
The Void seems to be on its most polite behaviour, not that she'd know what that looked like. And the Knight holds no ill will, and they're in charge. Diplomatically, the tiny beacon that is Seer flickers in response. Perhaps she could go further.
...Still, the little shadows are not what she's after. There is unease that she is finding already present, and this is what drew her - yet everywhere she looks, it isn't where she's looking. But she can feel the shape of it, just out of view no matter where she turns. Some prompting in the real world, then...
"You called me, Wielder," she tells them, her voice soft. "At least you called. And I'm here, now." Their distress was heard, and she's still listening.
Tentatively, the Moth flutters to the very border, as close as it can get without crossing. If the Void and the Knight and the little Shades will let her, she needs to see.
Another tiny, tiny claw-twitch. They hadn't intended that. They'd been lurking away from even Myla's barely-there presence. They didn't want help, they wanted time to rest and process. Alone.
Which, as they are, they're failing to do. The Knight could work to navigate this on their own, as they've had to in the past, but desiring that is only for pride. They need to...they need to return home, and back to their Sibling, with a mind clear of exhausted fog.
Fully conceding to their own thought, the next step is still uncertain. They're watching from Sibling eyes as Sibling eyes watch from theirs.
They suppose she wishes to cross the border, then? But how to do that, inside-outside-all as they are...?
Their Siblings are curious and darting as the darkness winds around and around, until a thicket of something not unlike roots digs through itself, a point of space-within-space, a tangled path.
The Knight is the path, and the Knight is waiting on it, disoriented at what they've done through concentrated effort over instinct and double-triple-hundredfold views.
With somewhere to land promised on the other side, Seer passes across with a flicker and soft chime of Essence.
At once she is by herself in the dark, but not alone - one could never be truly alone in here, not with so many looking this way and lingering nearby and the Void itself, unified, present, truly fathomless...
Seer is practiced at quelling her nerves, and does so as she alights beside the Knight. All at once the ethereal impression of a guiding light is cast off, and she stands beside them as herself, small and unassuming. Her antennae are doing their best to bristle now she's here, but she wills them still and shrugs her shoulders, smoothing her wings into neater place around her. Most is for show; this is not a real body, and neither is theirs.
Seer peers around a bit, acclimatising. The imagery is important, whether the dreamer intends it or not.
"Ah, nice and clear... You're getting the hang of this without me telling you. Truly, a Wielder any of us would have dreamed of! ...But flattery will get us nowhere."
She stares along the path, strange and meandering as it is, and then turns to the Knight and offers a quiet nod.
"Well, no need to take pains over direction. You'll lead us somewhere," she tells them, encouraging. Despite seeming to be looking at the Knight, there is the general impression she is talking to the pathway they've made.
The path is Void. The air is Void. There is no air. Seer is here. Seer's shell is lacking the chill they gained from the Lake and pressing against their paw, only partly here. There. On the path, on the shore. Somewhere. Present.
Her familiar fragile-looking being in the midst of all the darkness is unsettling.
The Knight's dream-self lifts arms in a bewildered motion. The Knight's physical ones shift oddly. They've thoughtlessly moved the Void and shaped it to their whims countless times before, but this is different.
A fragment unearths itself, a memory of an overheard conversation so old they can't recall any sort of voice or face: walking is difficult when you're thinking about each step. (They're not trying to share--the exact opposite, in fact--but their previous practice was as the Lord of Shades fully united, in control, awake and aware and at least partly prepared; it slips through with the barest impression of dust and words spoken from well above their horns.)
Their lack of control might be endearing, if it were anyone else. As the Lord of Shades, cloaking her from all sides in shadow, Seer takes it quite a bit more seriously.
Her hands in waking, too, are frail, but they are relaxed and steady around the Knight's paw, gently holding them both in place.
"...Ahh...?" Seer peers up instinctively (up? which way, really?) and gives an observant little hum. "Ah, I see! Yes... Let's take this steadily, Wielder. I've no expectations for you now."
In here, with quite a bit less drama than in the world outside, Seer offers them a hand.
"A Knight... You're used to wandering about without thinking very hard about it, I expect. Yes, and you'll need to try it the opposite way around for a while, at least until we're deeper. You have that part right. Don't worry! You're a natural, and I'm here to guide you. Leave your body where it is, Wielder, it's perfectly safe."
She is a step or two away from them. She wasn't a moment ago, but she is now, hand held out invitingly. (Hands holding theirs.)
They tip their dream-self's head. And then again, this time leaving the physical one motionless. The separation takes work. Not unlike...meditation. (Mato, beaming down at them for visiting, and their bemused stirring of happiness back--)
Fascinated Siblings surround them, constellations of eyes and intrigued-concerned-soothed little minds.
This time, the Knight takes Seer Belladonna's hand with markedly more grace.
What they're meant to be doing is still half a mystery. The Lord of Shades is everything here, but the Knight, alongside another, feels much smaller. They take a shuffle-step and situate more at Seer's side than in front; dragging her along would be unpleasant, they're sure, and being nearer (warm wings to hide under, comfort, embarrassment in hindsight) bolsters their confidence.
Their free paw gestures loosely. Just...ahead, then?
Seer watches with casual interest. As she suspected they pick up the gist well, though not without some hitches. Quick on the uptake as she has come to expect from the Wielder, but not divinely so.
She lets the impression of the Nailmaster and more breeze over her. Her duty here is to watch quietly; it is better not to draw attention to the things they aren't doing on purpose, or they might stop doing them. A clear picture. Their feelings should not snag on her presence here. (But she learns. Everything will tell her something.)
Seer gives them a polite little nod as they draw in beside her. (Seer's presence is not bright, and it is not a beacon, but it is... apparent. Steadfast.)
"Yes, I should think so," she remarks, off-handedly, and staying relatively upbeat. "It's said any direction will take you forward! ...I wouldn't take that advice if you're trying to walk to Dirtmouth though."
In their mind, as in reality, both Seers give their paw a slight squeeze.
"That means we go any way you like, Wielder," she reassures a little more sincerely.
After a nod, they begin, first only concentrating on walking. Moving along, at least. These legs are separate from their physical legs. The more attention they give to that, the easier it is to distance from their shell. (Is this what being a Shade was like, their lost half? The song plays seamlessly in their mind, along with the dance of blade and spell. Best not to think of that now. Best to simply go along with it.)
The path is itself, and them. The Knight has some expectation for it to end or drop; it doesn't. It goes on, and on, tangled roots that stretch out and every which way but for a space wide enough for the pair to walk without any wings being caught.
(Seer Belladonna knows what she's doing. Likely. At least certainly more than they. If she is wrong, then this is only a little more wasted time, and is giving the chance for their Siblings to calm about her.)
(Dirtmouth is up, yes, not forward. Seer was joking. Teasing, like Lemm, like they both find amusement over when on the same page. The well's chain was always cold against their paws. Cornifer and Iselda are likely worried sick, but Myla should be fine. Grimm, flame-hot shadow-shifting, standing outside their door; they hope he visited his child. They still need to find those leaves for Elderbug...)
Moving through the Void-Dream takes less and less focus. Or rather, they give it less and less, sinking into the rhythm and (of) their thoughts and continue anyway.
Seer follows, as she must, if she is to see where the path leads. The wandering type, she knew already. A path suits. (A Seer knows her way around a dream, but surely not around another's mind. A path is a good choice.) Her suggestions are only that: small and subtle, and they might as well be the Knight's thoughts to begin with.
When they look to her, she is at her usual unhurried pace, though she keeps up as though perfectly in step. And still their feelings wash over her and do not elicit a thing from her, not yet. Not even (flame-hot) flickering at her thoughts like it might catch - well, she knew he was here and now isn't the time to wonder, minor snag as it is.
Seer stays quiet and lets their feelings flow naturally around her like water might around a pebble in a stream, and does not get caught up.
(So many reliable friends they have. How then have things gotten so dire? What matters can't be trusted in the hands of those who mind?)
Seer turns her head mutely to watch them walk, to watch the path. The minute mental nudging is as easily mistaken for background noise as the will of a Whispering Root.
The movement along the path-self and the surrounding susurrus of Siblings are repetitive.
The Knight is tired. It took them little time to slip to sleep last time they let their guard fall. What more, in this sea of calm and soothing, of them and family and ally-perhaps-friend travelling at their side, could be more hypnotic?
The paws in Seer's physical hands are slipping through her fingers.
Literally. From solid form to thick liquid shadow, the Knight's body steadily tips forward.
The trick (not a trick, never a trick) to seeing what one needs to see is to have the dreamer lead you there themselves. The delicate part is ensuring this happens naturally.
They walk together quietly, at a pace one might keep when wandering a garden for liesure. There is no rush. There is no particular destination, except wherever they find themselves.
Any direction goes somewhere. It is not necessary to say most directions go deeper. Any way they like.
Seer's soft grip shifts, instinctively trying to hold on to the sensation of paws that cannot be held onto, and are not paws any more. She is used to the other party losing grasp on the physical but she can't make sense of that for a moment, and with how quickly they've sunk, she dares not come back to herself to look properly - she'd never find them again.
It makes sense again a little while later, when something begins to sink against her lap. This she recognises. Many find themselves unable to sit upright beyond a certain threshold. The inky formless shape is a new detail, but the circumstance is not.
Seer feels unseeing for the slowly-tilting shape of the Knight, and sets her arms around them. They are guided to turn, gently caught and helped and half-carried into lying down with their upper half curled in her lap. At least before position becomes more of a suggestion. Perhaps they wouldn't have risked hitting their head, being shade as they are, but there are customs to follow. Small kindnesses to be given.
Seer leans forward a little, the drape of her wings falling across either side of the sleeping Void-shape half-off and half-on her lap. Their body is safe with her, while their minds wander. Her hands settle on top, lightly resting on their shoulder before the details are lost.
"My, I don't know how you find anywhere to put your personal matters," Seer remarks casually to the Knight, to the path, her physical speaking voice now abandoned. "The little ones are rather interested, aren't they?"
Is it not tiring, with no peace alone? Or have you found a quiet corner for yourself?
The Knight starts slightly, tipping their head to her. And then past, to the many watching dots.
(In the physical, the Knight continues to melt, a puddle growing from beneath Seer Belladonna's wings.)
...Can they sleep? More ghost than Hornet named the Knight, the little Siblings shouldn't need to. But spirits should fail to learn and respond and repeat, think and reach and consider. Even Marissa, now, was clearly more sustained memory than fragment of a whole, made whole themselves just for being part of it.
Should and shouldn't mean nothing to them. The Pale King knew nothing himself, of Void, of his offspring. (Bitter, bitter, their Sibling bent frozen in supplication, the King's dead shell cracking beneath their blade--)
They lift their free hand to gesture loosely, and ask, through Void and Dream: settle more? Sleep? Can you sleep, can we do so here, now, together?
And in quiet sync, the shades of Siblings realize they, too, are tired. Realize--remember. It's frightening, at first, but the Knight assures them: it's only rest. They can wake, after.
Little specks of light flicker and wink; disappearing, as Siblings curl inward and calm further. Rest, yes. Rest was all they all wanted, once...
The Moth on the shore of Blue Lake is faring little better. As their minds fold deeper into shadow, her focus shifts inexorably to join them in the thick of it. Her antennae twitch minutely as she is wracked suddenly with Pale, a fracturing and a shudder rolls through her.
Let it go. Let it roll over her like a wave, and accept. There is no other way than through. She commits to going deeper, and Seer's head nods forward and the alert spark in her eyes peters out.
In the dreaming-dark, Seer does not react at all. She merely watches in polite reservation as the cold glow of Siblings' eyes vanish pair by pair.
(The Lord of Shades insisted on casting off the mantle of regrets. She understands better now.)
"That will do all of us some good, I think," she murmurs, and gives the Knight's paw a reassuring squeeze. "Children are so full of energy, until it runs out all at once! They need their rest, just as you need your space."
They are heading deeper than she is used to going, but she expected this. Motes, small and dim and twinkling, show for brief flickers when she trails her free hand through the nothingness beside her, testing the water. Someone else is here, she thinks, someone who is pretending not to be. Worth keeping an eye on.
There is a soft chiming, distant and barely-there. Ripples in the scope of the dreams of the Lord of Shades as Seer gently disturbs the surface.
The mind wanders. Ah. Those weren't her words, exactly, but a vague sentiment she's picking up from the Knight. She turns it back on itself expertly. Let it wander.
The Knight had been truthful: they didn't often dream, and when they did, it was of memories. Stitched-together and not always right, parts and pieces scattered like broken glass pressed back together, but still memory alone. They'd heard enough from wasteland travellers to know genuine dreaming was much messier and nonsensical--or far too sensical for those who had much to fear, or who could supposedly divine signs of what was coming next.
They discovered this and set it aside with only a little bitterness. False adventures weren't worth the disorientation and anxiety that came along with it.
The Knight who did so is not the same Knight that travelled Hallownest.
The Knight who did so was not the Lord of Shades, which consumed and acquired the realm the pieces fractured into their own beings were created to be barred from without other influence.
The Knight walks a path of themselves with their Siblings' rest eddying back around them, and dreams.
(It begins as many once have, in memory still, except--)
There is a trail. There are markers where the trail isn't worn enough to be visible, small stones piled high. The wind would bury them easily otherwise.
They were alone. There is another traveller behind them. The purple sears against their vision in contrast of grey sky, and brown-grey dirt that stretch away without end.
The Knight looks forward.
They were alone. Weren't they.
Their paws are free to pat the dingy blade against their back. They continue. They guide. Bugs fear such open space. Flighted ones especially, who want to rise above the dirt as though the wind will bow to their whims. Only they would, if being carried away and crashing flat may count as bowing.
Distant travel is often bland.
This is something else. There's nothing special about this route, and yet they don't want to be here.
There is a gentleness to a Seer's work, never to tread too heavily, not to impress too starkly against the backdrop of a Dream to be witnessed and not meddled with, and so she fades comfortably into the fabric of their imagination and lets it weave her in like distant scenery.
The purple of her is dimmer than ever, her fluff blown-over with road dust. The ends of her wings are trailing in the dirt of the world and tugged at by the wind - little details, enough to convince that she is part, not enough to identify her outright. Perhaps she is here to be escorted, or perhaps she is just going the same way. The Moth following in the shadow's shadow is perhaps not worth wondering about. Perhaps they are almost alone. (Seer is very good at fading.)
Reluctance. Unpleasant, but promising, because it means they are going the right way. She picks up enough to warrant reaching out and gently smoothing it over. All travels sometime come to a destination, wanted or not. In life one can only go forward.
And a little encouragement beyond that: the presence of her, vague as it is, offers some reassurance. Soft courage, perhaps. They are almost alone, for all intents and purposes, because that is what makes sense. But where it counts: almost.
Almost alone. Alone enough. As ever, as ever. Remember, remember?
The trail stutters forward, miles of memory skipped and gone. There were camps here, huddled in the lee of stones. Abandoned pots of stew are still steaming. Sand slips into shelters that were still warm with who had just been resting there, but now are not.
The path moves on, until the Knight finds it dropping abruptly into a hill.
They halt at its edge.
This shouldn't be here.
At the bottom, the ground is glittering white--shining, beautiful spiderweb. Countless threads connect red-stained wood planks spaced evenly apart, creating solid flooring above an endless pit.
The edge they stand on jolts and heaves, sending their Nail spinning from their paw.
The blade lands point-down through tangled weave and catches at its hilt.
A moment later, their legs unlock, and the Knight hurtles after it.
Seer observes fragments of what was, or perhaps still is, somewhere. She has long lost her curiosity for the world beyond Hallownest, but letting the pieces skim by is enough to note the important facts: these places are far. The world itself does not matter but for what it tells her about the Knight, this little wanderer, Wielder, warrior... Currently more wanderer than the rest.
But they'll chase their blade. Warrior, still.
Seer watches them disappear over the edge. She sees where they land without looking. She is not really using her eyes, as she is not really there. But she can still follow.
The Moth trudges to the edge of the pit and does not wait for a prompt. Things are moving quickly now, this is... likely the beginning of what they're looking for, whatever it is.
She spreads her wings, a little limp, half-remembered in their purpose, and steps off the edge. The form of her descends slowly, and without any fluttering. She keeps her gaze fixed on the Knight, unwilling now to let them out of her sight for an instant.
She is not foolish enough to overlook what it means to fly straight into a spider's web. Seer resists the urge to reach more keenly for their mind, to try and feel for what might happen next. Now would be the worst time to draw attention.
The threads are firmly wrapped around the Nail. Seams begin to unravel under where they stand.
Clink.
Clink, clink, clink.
The tears surround them. The Knight pauses. That sound is wrong.
Beneath, now, they can see blue. Shining. Gingerly, they tug the hilt of their blade and twist--the webbing shivers but holds, and there are ragged holes to reveal what hides beneath the web.
...Lifeseeds?
No, not lifeseeds. Dark blue orbs gleam, making glass-against-glass noises as the layers below shift. It’s all closer to the surface than they would have expected something in a hidden-away pit to be.
They don’t care about this. Their Knight’s claws begin picking at each thread individually instead, one paw kept holding tight to keep it from dropping below.
The glass dully grinds together. There is warmth rising, fluttering each loose thread up, not quite blocking the view but distracting.
There’s a light somewhere. There’s a light between their paw and the metal. It trembles and distantly aches.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
syntheid
no subject
Date: 2023-07-19 07:25 am (UTC)She holds their stare.
"Ah... Resting within. Were you thinking of your troubles, or trying not to think of them? Do you recall every moment as if waking? Do you find yourself wanting to sleep within sleep? - Perhaps not, and dream-walking does not tire you as it would a Seer." Seer holds out her hands to them, palm-up. "Hard to believe! It tires the Soul out of me. May I look at you?"
no subject
Date: 2023-07-19 10:37 am (UTC)Wanting to sleep within sleep. That feeling is more than familiar, though they previously hadn't put their claw on what it was those other times they'd slept. Or believed they'd slept. Dream-walking, she calls it, and asks--
The Knight can't easily bristle, but they transfer their heavy gaze to her hand. Look at them, she asks. Will she look at them and see what she expects to see?
...She'd apologized. She hasn't once bowed or acted their lesser, not even to the Lord of Shades' terrifying form. She'd held them and allowed them to hide beneath her wings, they remind themselves. They aren't being fair, dwelling on that.
Alright. Yes. Fine. They set their quill down and drop their paw into her palm.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-20 04:20 pm (UTC)Instead of trailing around the edges of the Shadelord, Seer peers in. (She suspects they do not know how to let her; plenty of ordinary bugs don't. She finds her way regardless.)
At once, the Shadelord might feel like they are being observed, a near-eerie feeling for most, similar to the prickle at the back of the mind when one instinctively knows someone is looking their way across a room. Some Siblings may feel it. Others may not. Right now she is a very small light looking in from the outside, and:
The Lord of Shades is vast.
Seer knew this before she started, but the expanse of their mind unfurls beyond her sense and she cannot fathom the edges, darker than pitch. She is certainly not used to this.
"...I'm sure I don't have to tell you," she murmurs, "but for my sake it might be wise to hold quite still."
no subject
Date: 2023-07-20 07:09 pm (UTC)Seer is a moth, seen through the Knight's eyes. Seer is a light, seen through the rest of them. They remember this, the form they followed despite being killed by the last thing they'd chased. She'd asked if they would fade, and they chose.
The bravest Siblings are half-eavesdropping as they commonly do. She's glared at by several, and the Knight bids them to settle.
Meanwhile, Greenhorn and a sweep-horn sibling are still dazzled by their water encounter, and Strongest Knight Sibling doesn't need them to calm very much.
The Void looks back at a tiny purple light, something so easily crushed beneath its might, and waves a shy tendril.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-20 07:50 pm (UTC)The simplest thing to do is to look deeper, but she knows better. An experienced Seer is never so eager to delve so quickly.
...No, not confusing. Difficult to discern as their feelings are, they are part of the picture, not in front of it...
The Void seems to be on its most polite behaviour, not that she'd know what that looked like. And the Knight holds no ill will, and they're in charge. Diplomatically, the tiny beacon that is Seer flickers in response. Perhaps she could go further.
...Still, the little shadows are not what she's after. There is unease that she is finding already present, and this is what drew her - yet everywhere she looks, it isn't where she's looking. But she can feel the shape of it, just out of view no matter where she turns. Some prompting in the real world, then...
"You called me, Wielder," she tells them, her voice soft. "At least you called. And I'm here, now." Their distress was heard, and she's still listening.
Tentatively, the Moth flutters to the very border, as close as it can get without crossing. If the Void and the Knight and the little Shades will let her, she needs to see.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-21 03:59 am (UTC)Which, as they are, they're failing to do. The Knight could work to navigate this on their own, as they've had to in the past, but desiring that is only for pride. They need to...they need to return home, and back to their Sibling, with a mind clear of exhausted fog.
Fully conceding to their own thought, the next step is still uncertain. They're watching from Sibling eyes as Sibling eyes watch from theirs.
They suppose she wishes to cross the border, then? But how to do that, inside-outside-all as they are...?
Their Siblings are curious and darting as the darkness winds around and around, until a thicket of something not unlike roots digs through itself, a point of space-within-space, a tangled path.
The Knight is the path, and the Knight is waiting on it, disoriented at what they've done through concentrated effort over instinct and double-triple-hundredfold views.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-23 06:06 pm (UTC)With somewhere to land promised on the other side, Seer passes across with a flicker and soft chime of Essence.
At once she is by herself in the dark, but not alone - one could never be truly alone in here, not with so many looking this way and lingering nearby and the Void itself, unified, present, truly fathomless...
Seer is practiced at quelling her nerves, and does so as she alights beside the Knight. All at once the ethereal impression of a guiding light is cast off, and she stands beside them as herself, small and unassuming. Her antennae are doing their best to bristle now she's here, but she wills them still and shrugs her shoulders, smoothing her wings into neater place around her. Most is for show; this is not a real body, and neither is theirs.
Seer peers around a bit, acclimatising. The imagery is important, whether the dreamer intends it or not.
"Ah, nice and clear... You're getting the hang of this without me telling you. Truly, a Wielder any of us would have dreamed of! ...But flattery will get us nowhere."
She stares along the path, strange and meandering as it is, and then turns to the Knight and offers a quiet nod.
"Well, no need to take pains over direction. You'll lead us somewhere," she tells them, encouraging. Despite seeming to be looking at the Knight, there is the general impression she is talking to the pathway they've made.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-24 04:12 am (UTC)Her familiar fragile-looking being in the midst of all the darkness is unsettling.
The Knight's dream-self lifts arms in a bewildered motion. The Knight's physical ones shift oddly. They've thoughtlessly moved the Void and shaped it to their whims countless times before, but this is different.
A fragment unearths itself, a memory of an overheard conversation so old they can't recall any sort of voice or face: walking is difficult when you're thinking about each step. (They're not trying to share--the exact opposite, in fact--but their previous practice was as the Lord of Shades fully united, in control, awake and aware and at least partly prepared; it slips through with the barest impression of dust and words spoken from well above their horns.)
This...is similar.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-24 05:48 am (UTC)Her hands in waking, too, are frail, but they are relaxed and steady around the Knight's paw, gently holding them both in place.
"...Ahh...?" Seer peers up instinctively (up? which way, really?) and gives an observant little hum. "Ah, I see! Yes... Let's take this steadily, Wielder. I've no expectations for you now."
In here, with quite a bit less drama than in the world outside, Seer offers them a hand.
"A Knight... You're used to wandering about without thinking very hard about it, I expect. Yes, and you'll need to try it the opposite way around for a while, at least until we're deeper. You have that part right. Don't worry! You're a natural, and I'm here to guide you. Leave your body where it is, Wielder, it's perfectly safe."
She is a step or two away from them. She wasn't a moment ago, but she is now, hand held out invitingly. (Hands holding theirs.)
no subject
Date: 2023-07-24 06:24 pm (UTC)Fascinated Siblings surround them, constellations of eyes and intrigued-concerned-soothed little minds.
This time, the Knight takes Seer Belladonna's hand with markedly more grace.
What they're meant to be doing is still half a mystery. The Lord of Shades is everything here, but the Knight, alongside another, feels much smaller. They take a shuffle-step and situate more at Seer's side than in front; dragging her along would be unpleasant, they're sure, and being nearer (warm wings to hide under, comfort, embarrassment in hindsight) bolsters their confidence.
Their free paw gestures loosely. Just...ahead, then?
no subject
Date: 2023-07-24 07:54 pm (UTC)She lets the impression of the Nailmaster and more breeze over her. Her duty here is to watch quietly; it is better not to draw attention to the things they aren't doing on purpose, or they might stop doing them. A clear picture. Their feelings should not snag on her presence here. (But she learns. Everything will tell her something.)
Seer gives them a polite little nod as they draw in beside her. (Seer's presence is not bright, and it is not a beacon, but it is... apparent. Steadfast.)
"Yes, I should think so," she remarks, off-handedly, and staying relatively upbeat. "It's said any direction will take you forward! ...I wouldn't take that advice if you're trying to walk to Dirtmouth though."
In their mind, as in reality, both Seers give their paw a slight squeeze.
"That means we go any way you like, Wielder," she reassures a little more sincerely.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-25 02:16 am (UTC)The path is itself, and them. The Knight has some expectation for it to end or drop; it doesn't. It goes on, and on, tangled roots that stretch out and every which way but for a space wide enough for the pair to walk without any wings being caught.
(Seer Belladonna knows what she's doing. Likely. At least certainly more than they. If she is wrong, then this is only a little more wasted time, and is giving the chance for their Siblings to calm about her.)
(Dirtmouth is up, yes, not forward. Seer was joking. Teasing, like Lemm, like they both find amusement over when on the same page. The well's chain was always cold against their paws. Cornifer and Iselda are likely worried sick, but Myla should be fine. Grimm, flame-hot shadow-shifting, standing outside their door; they hope he visited his child. They still need to find those leaves for Elderbug...)
Moving through the Void-Dream takes less and less focus. Or rather, they give it less and less, sinking into the rhythm and (of) their thoughts and continue anyway.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-25 03:27 pm (UTC)When they look to her, she is at her usual unhurried pace, though she keeps up as though perfectly in step. And still their feelings wash over her and do not elicit a thing from her, not yet. Not even (flame-hot) flickering at her thoughts like it might catch - well, she knew he was here and now isn't the time to wonder, minor snag as it is.
Seer stays quiet and lets their feelings flow naturally around her like water might around a pebble in a stream, and does not get caught up.
(So many reliable friends they have. How then have things gotten so dire? What matters can't be trusted in the hands of those who mind?)
Seer turns her head mutely to watch them walk, to watch the path. The minute mental nudging is as easily mistaken for background noise as the will of a Whispering Root.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-28 05:06 am (UTC)The Knight is tired. It took them little time to slip to sleep last time they let their guard fall. What more, in this sea of calm and soothing, of them and family and ally-perhaps-friend travelling at their side, could be more hypnotic?
The paws in Seer's physical hands are slipping through her fingers.
Literally. From solid form to thick liquid shadow, the Knight's body steadily tips forward.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-28 06:20 am (UTC)They walk together quietly, at a pace one might keep when wandering a garden for liesure. There is no rush. There is no particular destination, except wherever they find themselves.
Any direction goes somewhere. It is not necessary to say most directions go deeper. Any way they like.
Seer's soft grip shifts, instinctively trying to hold on to the sensation of paws that cannot be held onto, and are not paws any more. She is used to the other party losing grasp on the physical but she can't make sense of that for a moment, and with how quickly they've sunk, she dares not come back to herself to look properly - she'd never find them again.
It makes sense again a little while later, when something begins to sink against her lap. This she recognises. Many find themselves unable to sit upright beyond a certain threshold. The inky formless shape is a new detail, but the circumstance is not.
Seer feels unseeing for the slowly-tilting shape of the Knight, and sets her arms around them. They are guided to turn, gently caught and helped and half-carried into lying down with their upper half curled in her lap. At least before position becomes more of a suggestion. Perhaps they wouldn't have risked hitting their head, being shade as they are, but there are customs to follow. Small kindnesses to be given.
Seer leans forward a little, the drape of her wings falling across either side of the sleeping Void-shape half-off and half-on her lap. Their body is safe with her, while their minds wander. Her hands settle on top, lightly resting on their shoulder before the details are lost.
"My, I don't know how you find anywhere to put your personal matters," Seer remarks casually to the Knight, to the path, her physical speaking voice now abandoned. "The little ones are rather interested, aren't they?"
Is it not tiring, with no peace alone? Or have you found a quiet corner for yourself?
no subject
Date: 2023-08-04 02:44 am (UTC)(In the physical, the Knight continues to melt, a puddle growing from beneath Seer Belladonna's wings.)
...Can they sleep? More ghost than Hornet named the Knight, the little Siblings shouldn't need to. But spirits should fail to learn and respond and repeat, think and reach and consider. Even Marissa, now, was clearly more sustained memory than fragment of a whole, made whole themselves just for being part of it.
Should and shouldn't mean nothing to them. The Pale King knew nothing himself, of Void, of his offspring. (Bitter, bitter, their Sibling bent frozen in supplication, the King's dead shell cracking beneath their blade--)
They lift their free hand to gesture loosely, and ask, through Void and Dream: settle more? Sleep? Can you sleep, can we do so here, now, together?
And in quiet sync, the shades of Siblings realize they, too, are tired. Realize--remember. It's frightening, at first, but the Knight assures them: it's only rest. They can wake, after.
Little specks of light flicker and wink; disappearing, as Siblings curl inward and calm further. Rest, yes. Rest was all they all wanted, once...
no subject
Date: 2023-08-04 08:22 pm (UTC)Let it go. Let it roll over her like a wave, and accept. There is no other way than through. She commits to going deeper, and Seer's head nods forward and the alert spark in her eyes peters out.
In the dreaming-dark, Seer does not react at all. She merely watches in polite reservation as the cold glow of Siblings' eyes vanish pair by pair.
(The Lord of Shades insisted on casting off the mantle of regrets. She understands better now.)
"That will do all of us some good, I think," she murmurs, and gives the Knight's paw a reassuring squeeze. "Children are so full of energy, until it runs out all at once! They need their rest, just as you need your space."
They are heading deeper than she is used to going, but she expected this. Motes, small and dim and twinkling, show for brief flickers when she trails her free hand through the nothingness beside her, testing the water. Someone else is here, she thinks, someone who is pretending not to be. Worth keeping an eye on.
There is a soft chiming, distant and barely-there. Ripples in the scope of the dreams of the Lord of Shades as Seer gently disturbs the surface.
The mind wanders. Ah. Those weren't her words, exactly, but a vague sentiment she's picking up from the Knight. She turns it back on itself expertly. Let it wander.
no subject
Date: 2023-09-30 05:24 am (UTC)They discovered this and set it aside with only a little bitterness. False adventures weren't worth the disorientation and anxiety that came along with it.
The Knight who did so is not the same Knight that travelled Hallownest.
The Knight who did so was not the Lord of Shades, which consumed and acquired the realm the pieces fractured into their own beings were created to be barred from without other influence.
The Knight walks a path of themselves with their Siblings' rest eddying back around them, and dreams.
(It begins as many once have, in memory still, except--)
There is a trail. There are markers where the trail isn't worn enough to be visible, small stones piled high. The wind would bury them easily otherwise.
They were alone. There is another traveller behind them. The purple sears against their vision in contrast of grey sky, and brown-grey dirt that stretch away without end.
The Knight looks forward.
They were alone. Weren't they.
Their paws are free to pat the dingy blade against their back. They continue. They guide. Bugs fear such open space. Flighted ones especially, who want to rise above the dirt as though the wind will bow to their whims. Only they would, if being carried away and crashing flat may count as bowing.
Distant travel is often bland.
This is something else. There's nothing special about this route, and yet they don't want to be here.
The Knight keeps going.
no subject
Date: 2023-10-08 02:51 pm (UTC)The purple of her is dimmer than ever, her fluff blown-over with road dust. The ends of her wings are trailing in the dirt of the world and tugged at by the wind - little details, enough to convince that she is part, not enough to identify her outright. Perhaps she is here to be escorted, or perhaps she is just going the same way. The Moth following in the shadow's shadow is perhaps not worth wondering about. Perhaps they are almost alone. (Seer is very good at fading.)
Reluctance. Unpleasant, but promising, because it means they are going the right way. She picks up enough to warrant reaching out and gently smoothing it over. All travels sometime come to a destination, wanted or not. In life one can only go forward.
And a little encouragement beyond that: the presence of her, vague as it is, offers some reassurance. Soft courage, perhaps. They are almost alone, for all intents and purposes, because that is what makes sense. But where it counts: almost.
no subject
Date: 2023-12-13 02:30 am (UTC)The trail stutters forward, miles of memory skipped and gone. There were camps here, huddled in the lee of stones. Abandoned pots of stew are still steaming. Sand slips into shelters that were still warm with who had just been resting there, but now are not.
The path moves on, until the Knight finds it dropping abruptly into a hill.
They halt at its edge.
This shouldn't be here.At the bottom, the ground is glittering white--shining, beautiful spiderweb. Countless threads connect red-stained wood planks spaced evenly apart, creating solid flooring above an endless pit.
The edge they stand on jolts and heaves, sending their Nail spinning from their paw.
The blade lands point-down through tangled weave and catches at its hilt.
A moment later, their legs unlock, and the Knight hurtles after it.
no subject
Date: 2023-12-18 09:39 pm (UTC)But they'll chase their blade. Warrior, still.
Seer watches them disappear over the edge. She sees where they land without looking. She is not really using her eyes, as she is not really there. But she can still follow.
The Moth trudges to the edge of the pit and does not wait for a prompt. Things are moving quickly now, this is... likely the beginning of what they're looking for, whatever it is.
She spreads her wings, a little limp, half-remembered in their purpose, and steps off the edge. The form of her descends slowly, and without any fluttering. She keeps her gaze fixed on the Knight, unwilling now to let them out of her sight for an instant.
She is not foolish enough to overlook what it means to fly straight into a spider's web. Seer resists the urge to reach more keenly for their mind, to try and feel for what might happen next. Now would be the worst time to draw attention.
no subject
Date: 2023-12-19 02:50 pm (UTC)Clink.
Clink, clink, clink.
The tears surround them. The Knight pauses. That sound is wrong.
Beneath, now, they can see blue. Shining. Gingerly, they tug the hilt of their blade and twist--the webbing shivers but holds, and there are ragged holes to reveal what hides beneath the web.
...Lifeseeds?
No, not lifeseeds. Dark blue orbs gleam, making glass-against-glass noises as the layers below shift. It’s all closer to the surface than they would have expected something in a hidden-away pit to be.
They don’t care about this. Their Knight’s claws begin picking at each thread individually instead, one paw kept holding tight to keep it from dropping below.
The glass dully grinds together. There is warmth rising, fluttering each loose thread up, not quite blocking the view but distracting.
There’s a light somewhere. There’s a light between their paw and the metal. It trembles and distantly aches.
They continue to ignore this unimportant thing.