Sacrifice

After the ritual had been completed, the Troupe decided they would stay a little while longer until the newest child had grown into his new role. The small knight no longer needed to look after him, but in comparison, the small bug could hardly fend for himself without them.

Dirtmouth was a great area to spread his wings. Grimm was rare to see outside of the dark canopy of his tent, however, when he had the time he would accompany the small child out into the windy, desolate town. A once bustling hub for travelers that looked so pitifully empty now. They would spend a few hours at a time simply exploring, Grimm getting to stretch his legs so-to-speak while Grimmchild would work on their agile maneuvering around abandoned buildings. It is endearing, Grimm thinks, that his child would try to impress him with such a simple show.

The child grows antsy on his own, going off to explore the Crossroads or the old tunnels that led into the town. Grimmchild coming back to the tent with nips in the wings and a tuckered look only made Grimm worried that he was out exploring on his own so frequently. He knows it can be boring in the town but he needed supervision still.

Doting on the small child was not uncommon, taking them under his wing (sometimes quite literally) and pampering them with attention. Grooming always was a hit or miss scenario: sometimes Grimmchild was compliant and purrs softly when getting brushed, other times he yells when he feels he does not need it. The times he is docile is cherished by Grimm, holding the small bug in one arm while they try not to fall asleep when being brushed.

There is a time where Grimm followed Grimmchild up to the old caves, dark and foreboding as they were. Few threats presented themselves here aside from loose rock that would crumble from the towering ceiling. The child would use the tiniest bugs--the ones that couldn't even reach them from their grounded bodies--for target practice when they went.

Normally Grimm is very diligent in watching the small child, however, he loses track of them in the cave and frets when he cannot hear him. Cape flush against his form, shadows bend as he searches the far corners of the cavern for the child. He finds him by the crevice leading towards the Howling Cliffs. A gust of wind catches the child's wings and lurches him forward, a brief cry escaping him. Clawed digits reach out and snatch the child, pushing down on his head and bringing him back to the safety of his cloak. Grimm scolds him for wandering off and tells him of the dangers of the wind out by the cliffs--how possible it is for him to get blown around, away, or injured.

Grimm's overbearing protectiveness in this situation causes the small child to cry. Of course, Grimm only wants him to be safe and sound, but his voice raises and hurts when he tries to get his point across. The way he emphasizes how Grimmchild could have been lost to him forever is what tips the bowl, tiny little sobs muffled under his cloak. The thought of being lost is too much. He pets them to console them, shushing him and cooing softly that he was sorry for yelling. They return to the tent after that.

A long time passes and Grimmchild gets bigger, stronger. Grimm feels that he is able to take him down to the depths of this Kingdom and not have to worry at every corner. Fighting together was a rush of its own, getting a sense of their power side by side. Their practice of the art of manipulation shadows has become fruitful. Grimmchild is much more adept at surprised his enemies before delivering an unforeseen attack. The intensity of the child's fire has grown exponentially since their travels with the small Knight.

The flame burns bright within them both and Grimm is proud to have Grimmchild as his heir.

When Grimmchild is confident enough to speak (much time spent learning in the tent, and even with Brumm were they shy,) the two of them visit the City of Tears. The perpetual rain from the lake above disheartens Grimmchild--they hate being wet, especially when it means an extra grooming session for later. They visit Lemm's storage shop and bring him a few antiques in exchange for looking at some of his older texts. Grimm teaches Grimmchild about the history of this Kingdom and what he has come to know of its inhabitants. Grimmchild falls asleep from the storytelling after some time, leaving Grimm to read on his own.

After traveling most of the Kingdom together, spurts at a time and spending a good amount of time alone due to the nature of travel, they decide to try for the Colosseum. Grimm is confident in his ability to single-handedly take on the task no matter the difficulty. As such, he is confident that with both of them there, they could have a good time. At first, the child seems hesitant but after a good pep talk from Grimm, he seems more than ready to face the challenge.

Round after round of slaughter, Grimmchild was practically beaming with self-confidence. The last few trials together were a little more strenuous, Grimm having to step in and assist when Grimmchild gets knocked around by some of the larger, armored bee kin. Despite this, they are showered with geo at the end of their tiresome crusade. Grimm will save some of the shiniest pieces for Divine when they return home.

Nosk was familiar with Deepnest and it was in Deepnest that Hornet was raised. The spiders in the dark were a well-off kin, their silk a luxury for the Kingdom despite very few willing to travel to their lands. The tunnels leading to the expansive nest were dark and claustrophobic. Even with the tram system built, it was quite the inhospitable place for many bugs.

The Orbweavers had long abandoned their home, Herrah tucked away to slumber. A knowing amongst the spiders that it was for a greater cause. Hornet was to be the returning heir but she never came back. Over time the entire nest was emptied save for those affected by the Light.

After the destruction of the Black Egg’s influence over the Kingdom, Nosk hid away in its lair for quite some time. It explored the caves it knew by memory and it had scavenged all it could from the old hanging structures in the village. 

Time passes without a record in the dark. Hornet visits her old home to find answers and solace. Nosk is aware of her presence–feels it in a way that calls out to it to follow. Its parasitic nature was still akin to the spiders and if Hornet were to return and create a new Kingdom here… It does not know if it would belong, but it would watch.

When she returns in other times, Nosk takes her appearance. It knows these walls inside and out, standing in wait for her return. The top of the Orbweaver’s nest is a favorite spot to lurk in. There is another Orb kin here that strays but they never cross paths. Nosk is always gone by the time Hornet makes it to its perch. There are cracks in the walls that even she can not hide in.

Nosk leaves bodies in the cathedral for her next return. They are not alive by any means but there are other parasites inside of them. The bodies crunch and crack with her growing presence and Nosk, in Hornet’s disguise, stands upon a podium with the writhing bodies amassing to attack her. In the scuffle, it scurries away.

Hornet and her trusted needle are very dangerous to Nosk. It stays and it waits for food, sometimes preying on the few spiders left behind. They follow Hornet and so Nosk follows them. It sits on a bench beside the hot spring and looks at her from the opposite side. Her needle cannot reach it from here and they stare each other down. Their cloaks seem to sway in sync, their shells glistening with the steam from the spring. It flees before she can catch it.

The next time they meet is by the old stag station. Nosk waits by the bell and the broken benches, and in a moment of thought, it wonders if there will ever be another stag. It has heard the footsteps before when the smallest vessel once roamed the nest but there are no longer any signs. Nosk leaves behind the replica cloak in the midst of its departure, leaving Hornet with no answers but a solid understanding that there is something else in these caverns.

There is a difference between a fight for survival, a fight out of necessity, or fighting out of blind rage.

The battle with Hornet was not one that was necessary but it was done. She spoke to them and fought with precision and tact. There were thoughts behind her actions and Ghost knew that she was not truly there to kill them. Whether she was giving her best or simply fighting enough to test their mettle, Ghost had no intention of killing her if she were not in their way.

Learned much later, the kindred before they were likely broken and not fully Hollow. Their lives outside of the Abyss were not lives they could truly fulfill nor could they assist in the inevitable return of the Infection.

Ghost has crossed many others who are like Hornet–sound of mind or had enough will to stand their ground regardless of their state. Not every battle is glorious and not every fallen enemy is recognized as a hero of their own story.

There are many things to explore in Dirthmouth. Between the abandoned homes and the rubble of old statues, one could almost see how this town had once been a bustling area of commerce.

Nosk has been in Dirthmouth for a few weeks at this point, having already come into contact with a few select bugs that still lived there. Elderbug was interesting and while Nosk would get hungry, it would avoid the old bug since he had previously helped it while it was injured.

The grave past the well was interesting to scrounge through. There were not many bodies left under the dirt, exoskeletons already having been picked clean or pilfered from their graves. The ominous cave at the end of the graveyard held some interest to the parasite, but every time it wandered near the door would be slammed shut.

At some point, Nosk had started digging up graves when no one was around as well. While many were empty, there were a few with a few trinkets left behind. Some of these trinkets were saved in its new home, stuck in its web where no one could steal them. 

It happened upon an old mask in the remnants of an undisturbed grave very close to the well one day. Since leave Deepnest, Nosk has only used the old memory of the ghostly knight to traverse areas its normal body could not get through.

What little bit what left attached to the mask was enough. Old dreams lingered in the air by this grave. It was not forgotten after all of this time. Thanks to this impression upon the broken mask, Nosk was able to utilize the memory to give itself a newer form.

The Gravedigger was a small bug, but not as small as the Ghost it used before. Seeing the world from a new perspective once more was always intriguing but there was something about this body that felt familiar.

The bench in the middle of Dirtmouth was a favored spot for many travelers as well as Nosk. The early morning dew was settling on the iron and it leaves the parasite with a visible shiver in the cold.

Right on schedule, Elderbug is always the first to emerge from his home. His duty to greet passers-by was unmet by anyone else despite how few and far between those travelers were.

Nosk is not unfamiliar with how it uses bodies to lure others in with a sense of trust. Someone they know, someone they remember even if they know they should not be alive. It almost never fails to prey on the weak wills of lesser bugs. The familiar sound of surprise makes it turn to look at the old bug, his hands drawn up as though he were startled.

So easy to frighten, he is. Time seems to still as he stares for some time before retreating back into his home. Eventually, he reemerges with a knit blanket and comes around the bench to cover the shivering bug sitting there.

Without the Infection to cloud its mind, Nosk waits to see how Elderbug will react this time instead of blindly relying on instinct to hurt him. The past aid it has received from Elderbug does not go unforgotten, and while it feels some sense of mutual respect it is not unlike the creature to toy with others regardless.

Elderbug sits on the bench next to his old friend. A weak hand rests on top of its leg, making it look down and then back up to the bug. A curious tilt of its head questions him.

“I thought I had seen a ghost.” The bug next to it still feels standoffish. Uncertain. It is likely that he is trying to recall for sure if his friend was really gone if he was sitting here right in front of him. After all the time he’s spent putting flowers on a grave, and he still feels the need to question himself.

“This town is much quieter these days. I’m sure you prefer it that way though,” Elderbug hums to himself and seems to relax more. The hand he’d placed on the Gravedigger’s leg is removed. He just had to know… if he is tangibly there. It may be more frightening that he is.

With no means of actually conversing with Elderbug, the parasite gives off a short sigh and looks off in the direction of the graveyard. The last of the impressions on this bug’s mask indicate they had been the one to lay all the others to rest. Their closeness with the elder is not found there, but it is obvious there was some connection with how it’s being treated.

“After you…” He seems to recall for sure the methods of his friend’s demise, though he seems to shake it off for the moment and continue, “left, I have had to tend graves myself. Hard work you do. I don’t see how you can do it." 

The blanket is tugged closer over its shoulders and Nosk moves to stand from the bench. It is much too cold, even in a smaller body.

"No, wait! Don’t leave. Please,” Elderbug gets up to his feet as well and reaches out as though he wants to pull the Gravedigger back to his seat.

“Surely you can stay a little longer?” His hands rub together nervously, and it’s obvious he is trying to prolong this sense of unity with someone he once knew.

The parasite shakes its head, and Elderbug seems to be at a loss for words. He grabs the other bug’s arm and holds him there so he can’t leave yet.

“I am growing too old to keep visiting. One of these days, you will have to help me as I’ve helped you." 

A clear memory of when the old Gravedigger had died. Fallen into a grave with no way out. No one ever checks the graveyard, and so enough time had passed that the bug simply died from being trapped. Later found by Elderbug and buried proper, no doubt he implies that he’ll need his own grave soon enough.

There’s a small nod from the silent Gravedigger and Elderbug releases him. The blanket is returned and this entire interaction is leaving Nosk with a growing hunger in its gut. It frequently waits for such a vulnerable moment to attack its prey, but Elderbug is not prey. This was… strange and it needs to leave.

Elderbug holds the blanket close to him and steps forward once as though he’s willing to follow after the Gravedigger. 

"Come to see me again, friend.”

He does not follow, but he does keep the blanket and puts it away in a safe place inside of his home as a reminder. Perhaps he was going senile, or he was seeing things that weren’t there. Despite having touched him and seen him with his own eyes, it was difficult to explain it all.

When the Grimmchild first came into contact with the Ghost, it was unfamiliar and foreign. It knew it had to follow them, for the ritual always came first before the child’s thoughts.

It followed and traveled to unseen lands. Through brush and caverns, infected wastelands and tunnels into the dark. Soft springs and regal architecture were among the Grimmchild’s favorite sight-seeing areas.

The ritual to consume flames did not take very long. It was almost as though the Ghost knew exactly where to look in some cases as though they were meant for this task all along. Despite having no conversations or shared thoughts, there was an instilled sense of duty and loyalty towards the knight.

When the time came for the ritual to be complete, there was a moment of respite. After all of the battles together and growing alongside the knight, this was the first time that Grimmchild would not accompany them. 

Soft moans fill the shop. All the time spent alone was always worth it in the end whenever attention was given. Iselda always missed going out on adventures herself, but she was much more content to own the shop whenever her beloved Cornifer was away.

Limbs sprawled across her desk, inkpots and charm pins clattering to the floor to make room for her lithe body, strong hands holding Iselda in place while she’s filled with her lover.

Although Cornifer seemed cold as he approached her before, his wordless plea a secretly welcomed surprise on her behalf, Iselda could not help but let him take complete control of the situation. She needed it, wanted it more than anything ever since he started leaving her for days on end.

Her back was bent over the desk and her head tipped back while her hands grasped for purchase on the tabletop. The angle of her long body in such a small space leaves her a little light headed but she does not mind. It helps her lose herself in the moment. While hands grope along her abdomen and arms, eventually touching her face softly but recoiling soon after which leaves her confused, her voice sings a melody which could be heard to the well outdoors.

The heat of her husband inside of her fills her entirely, makes her wish for more. Legs pull him closer and somehow he feels impossibly deep within her. There are no words of love nor sweetness which she expects from him, however, they are not needed when she feels so at peace when they are together this way.

Their bonding lasts a few hours, her lover initially rough but growing softer and more loving as time went on. A feeling of purpose to his touches, as though they were exploring her body anew. Little grunts of appreciation and want. It takes some time before they are able to pull apart from each other.

I LOVE THIS OHMYGOD THANKS SO MUCH YOU MAGNIFICENT WRITER

The flame burns deep beneath the flesh. It calls, it demands, it is never-ending. A performance of elevation; from embers to searing heat.

It is when he is alone that Grimm can indulge in such pleasures. Away from the prying audience, the constant need of his troupe. Something eternal and unforgiving calls from a distant past which he cannot always ignore. It is as enticing as it is dangerous.

He locks himself away during these times. It would be wrong to show this side of himself to anyone else, no, to admit he needs it at all.

Fingers relaxed and curled softly, individual tendrils lazily lap at the gaps between them. Three to be counted but not always active at once. The spaces between the segments of shell on his fingers are the most sensitive, and when the smooth nodes along the sides of the tendrils pass over them his body tenses.

Legs spread and knees bent so his lower legs turn inward, it is a sight to behold with his cape draped over his shoulders and pooling over the rocks around him. Mouth slightly ajar, breath hitching at sensitive touches. Steam from the waters at his feet rising and making his entire body warm.

The Pleasure House was the perfect getaway. Only the remnants of history remain here, and very rarely there are visitors outside of himself. The waters invigorate him and the heat almost always lures him into the trance he’s suffering now.

Digits curl around the middle appendage and squeeze it, the other two wrapping around his wrist and hand as if to keep him from moving. The soft flesh is pliable in his grasp, easy to handle and please. Thumb strokes over the nodes on one side and he feels a familiar wetness coat his palm.

A sigh. The sound of the water running out of the statues is almost too much to listen to. Too loud, too distracting. Grimm adjusts himself to sit lower in the water so it is up to his waist instead of sitting on the edge of the pool. His cape stays behind on the ledge of rocks, but his lower body quickly rises in temperature as he submerges himself in the hot spring.

The sensation of groping along his inner thighs and underneath his hand makes him shudder. Eagerness is not usually his game, but he can not deny the primitive excitement of desire.

Hand strokes along the middle tendril before moving to give each one its own attention, squeezing and pulling along the supple flesh. Malleable under his fingers, the tapering shape of the appendages makes sliding them through his fist quite satisfying. At times, they wrap around each other and tangle in a way that makes him lose his thoughts.

A hiss under his breath and Grimm curls in on himself slightly as his multiple genitalia take turns squeezing his fingers, his hand, his wrist, and forearm. When the tables turn and his body takes what it wants, he is in no place to want it to stop.

His fingers are stuck together with a slick coating. Breathing labored and water a tad murky before him, his eyes focus on the ripples in the water which houses no reflection.

The flame lingers, presses a warmth to the back of his chest, but it does not scorch nor burn any longer.

It is a rare sight to see Nosk leave its den. The only reason for it to go out is for the hunt and luckily it did not need to leave very often. Still, out in the open caverns crawling with insects and larvae alike, it finds itself in an odd place despite having ventured this way before.

The Distant Village is not a prime spot for finding food, so it usually avoids the area. However, it has found its way deep into the ground outside of the village where water seeps through the cracks and the sound of burrowing bugs grows fainter--then silent--the further one goes down.

It is here that another small alcove in the twisting systems reveals more bodies left behind by another. Ever curious in the pursuit of food, Nosk wanders nearer and a crackling of rock sounds as a body emerges from a crevice unseen at the end of the tunnel.

"My, my... look at this cumbersome thing. Long forgotten and scavenging like the rest of the lowly bugs in this place." A soothing voice, deep and mellow echoes in the cavern. Nosk approaches, the faint pulse of Infection lighting its way as it hunches low to the ground in order to skitter closer.

Its ornate mask--one of a noble bug once found lost--cracks to the side in a curious manner.

"You won't find any morsels here, pitiful thing." Midwife's body extends a little further, hooked arms vaguely reaching out towards the creature. She has eaten infected bodies before, she could do it again.

"Come closer, closer. I know you're hungry... starving..." And as the den dweller drags itself closer, Midwife's mask splits open to reveal what hides beneath, "Just like me!"

A clash of limbs and teeth as they attempt to incapacitate one another. Nosk is at a disadvantage by being squeezed into a smaller space, while Midwife is unable to come much further out of the wall to pursue it. After a few injuries are had, Nosk begins to shrink away. Its limbs have been bitten and tugged. Dark essence pools on the ground, throbbing orange light pulsing as if to the thrum of a heartbeat.

A gurgling sound and a hiss of acidic Infection causes Midwife to retreat. Better to save her skin than to come away burned and blinded. The thick ooze sizzles against the opening of the crevice she inhabits and Nosk skitters backward awkwardly to retreat.

The trek from Deepnest up to the surface was not so trivial as it was for other bugs. The Stagways were crumbling apart, unable to be traversed in some cases. The pathways through the Mantis Village were cut off due to their inhabitants. From the depths, Nosk had to climb up and out through the Fungal Wastes. Spores and sticky resins alike clung to its bare limbs.

Through the caverns of shrooms and stalks, the inhospitable terrain of the Fog Canyon which made it turn back, and finally through the Crossroads which had been infected some months prior. It has been a long time since the Infection’s purge. Creatures were becoming normal again, regaining their consciousness and thought. Some gave in to the Infection after all and died, with theirs the Light passing away.

Its body was able to contort and squeeze through small spaces, crackling limbs and joints unintentionally as it forced its way out of the undergrowth. Through the well into Dirtmouth, it crept, a midsection of legs broken from the previous rough attempts to scramble out of a tunnel where it had gotten stuck.

Many of the residents had moved on. The lonely town a ghost of a once prospering melting pot of cultures and bugs. The sole bench under the only lit lamp on the main street caught its attention and it closed the distance rather slowly given its poor state.

Claws click at the iron and the noise seems to bring about a stir within one of the buildings. A small bug, hunched beneath their cloak and mask looking frail, comes from a doorway and gives the most startled noise. Nosk itself moves its upside-down headpiece to look at the other bug and waits.

Elderbug introduces himself and then announces the town as Dirtmouth. He seems afraid, keeping plenty of distance between himself and the spindly creature which came from the well. It was easily the height of the lamp post when standing upright.

Nosk does not answer. Its sudden movement towards Elderbug sends the other into a short panic but the Deepnest dweller falters and crumples to the ground. Its legs hardly able to keep it standing and with no means of creating a web with useless limbs, its hunger drove it onward but at last, its skeletal frame cannot keep up any longer.

Not much of a talker eh? Well that didn’t bothered her at all! She can talk then for the both of them!

“Oh?”

She watches a little confused as the little knight pulled out their own map, and looked between theirs and hers. Ruby leaned a little bit to the side, to take a look at their map just to let out a gasp of surprise. Their map was so detailed! They must have travelled a lot around Hallownest! Maybe this little guy was very skilled? There were dangerous creatures around after all!

“Woa! You must have travelled a lot, huh?”

The ladybug spoke excited, and her gaze wandered from the Ghost’s map to her own and back until it fell on the part that should be the green path.

“You know… I haven’t really travelled that much through Hallownest so far, actually I haven’t even gotten past Green Path yet, heh. But you seem to have crossed it already!”

A wonder actually that she couldn’t find any way to find her way through it. Ruby might had the little advantage that she could just fly over most obstacles, but well… she still didn’t had the best sense of direction… Oh! Maybe the little knight wanted to help her? It did seemed like it.

A soft jostle of the paper indicates that they are agreeing with her. Most of their travels have uncovered many areas of the Kingdom. If she was not familiar with how vast the underground goes, it may even be daunting to see such a large map.

They listen intently to her words and they look down as if in consideration before pulling out their quill. The pointed tip taps at Green Path on the parchment and they look back up to her curiously. 

A single tap is on the area of Lake Unn and then they tap again at the entrance by the Forgotten Crossroads. It was a relatively straightforward path, and one they think she would enjoy traversing if only for the sights it would lend to her travels.