#gravecavities

The grave is empty; the urn rings hollow.

There is nothing to bury.

I doubt you would've wanted to be buried.

Not like this, at least.

Not here.

I wouldn't keep you here.

I wouldn't trap you here.

But I don't know what you would've wanted.

I didn't ask.

I could have, maybe should have.

But I didn't.

Because if I did, I would've needed to acknowledge how finite our lives are.

I didn't want to believe it. I still don't.

Not when it comes to you.

You were something to me.

Your world became fused with mine.

Not two parts to make a whole, no.

But…something else.

I don't know when we became that something.

But I know how I learned to love you.

It started so long ago.

I thought you had been another dead body, left behind after Crownus' reign.

I had approached you, ready to haul you back to the Church.

You awoke and gave me such a fright, your insects and other bugs flying out at me.

I remember trying not to step on any of them, accidentally tripping and falling on my ass.

I'm not sure how we really started interact then, the booze is getting to me.

Being permitted to visit your swamp was nice.

You bringing me there was a delight, though I did and still do question your cauldron.

Those puppets probably deserved it, though.

I think I'll leave it where it is; a sign to show you were here, are still here.

Where was I?

I was sitting there, playing with some of your little critters, watching you toil over your cauldron.

I wanted to help you.

I don't usually help, you know. Or, you knew. Or know, I don't know.

I'm great with offering a drink. That's easy, fun, light.

I need to get another bottle.

You were looking for something different.

You wanted teeth.

I was originally, pretty shocked.

Then I remembered you're literally THE Teeth Hag.

I feel kind of silly, thinking about how shocked I was back then.

I rummaged through my stuff, finding the little box that held all my childhood things.

A broken toy, the little sack of teeth, my old cross.

I gave you that entire sack.

Shit, I don't know if that did anything, in the end.

Maybe it did. I really hope it did.

Would it be weird if I slept with an urn on my bedside table?

Would you mind that?

I hope you won't mind it.

The other puppets are happy.

I mean, I am too. Typhon is gone and that means less puppets around who might try to eat all of us.

That's always a positive.

Still, this swamp doesn't feel right.

It's not the right quiet.

Briar was nice enough to give me some extra mead.

I poured you some, at the little altar we made for you.

Fuck, Hag.

It doesn't feel right.

I don't know how to maintain your swamp.

I don't know how to keep your critters safe.

I don't know how to defend this place if something happens.

Yeah, I have your rats and your centipedes and your leeches.

What happens if the place gets overrun?

What if I lose the swamp, Hag?

Fuck.

I can't cry right now.

I shouldn't cry.

I'm not drunk enough to cry.

I should, though, I should.

Let myself feel.

Let myself mourn.

In a less harmful manner.

I don't have kidneys though, so, whatever.

I should seriously get sober.

Later.

Later I'll get sober.

Maybe if I get really drunk, I can cry.

If not, the hangover will make me cry.

I'll cry either way.

Hey, Hag?

I think one of these days, I'll take your moths outside.

Like, with me.

To my human friend's place.

We could look at the stars on the way there.

Maybe some of the moths will flutter off, be attracted to a lamp.

Maybe they'll enjoy the night sky.

This bottle's empty.

Ugh, maybe I need to just drink from the keg Briar gave me.

Whatever.

Whatever…

I should probably get up now.

Stretch.

Clean all these bottles up.

I'm kind of tired now, though.

Maybe when my hands aren't so unsteady, I can bring your urn up to the roof.

We can go watching to stars.

Or, I can.

For us both.

I'll make some spiced wine. Sit up there. One cup for you, one for me.

Think for a bit.

Cry.

Wait until sunrise to go back inside.

Do my usual duties, guard the graveyard, tend to the-

Your moths are fluttering around me.

I think I almost smacked one.

Little stars think they're helping or something.

They're fun.

They're really fun.

But, yeah, I should be going now.

Sleep in my bed, go to Dukemir's little tea party.

Fuck, I forgot Dukemir's party.

I need to go, Hag.

I need to, yeah, fuck.

I'm going.

I'll come back, I promise.

I'll bring your moths and we can look up at the stars and moonlight as we visit my friend.

A moment outside the theater, away from everything and everyone.

Promise.

Oh, fuck, bottle-

OC Credits: Teeth Hag, Briar Rose, & Typhon by @sippedtiredness1058 Gravelyn by me