Broken, lost...

@vessel-broken

[Quick is the yanking to catch Holly's attention.

Their head swivels down, gaze angled so as to just about (awkwardly) meet the other's, before they offer a questioning look.

Ever curious. Ever patient.

They then starts drawing.

They draw themselves on the side of something

(Sleeping)

They then draw a circle above them, with something in it.

It is a white fluffy thing, with yellow glowing eyes, with orange lines coming from them.

They then draw this fluffy thing with a speech bubble, what is in it is gibberish.

Every rough line, every color selected, every simplistic part etched into the pristine papers of the sketchbook, the faint smell of parchment gently wafting out the open pages.

What is being illustrated gradually becomes clear...

And almost imperceptibly, their expression darkens.

A tiny bit of tension springs to their posture and they take a crayon of their own to draw several lines right through the image of the Radiance, each one made to look as though dripping blood.

Then they point to themself and in the general direction of the Tearless city far beyond.

She won't pull what she did before. Runecraft has seen to this.

It glitters of Soul, of the very divine light that persists even through the darkness of their very being, in almost a kind of poetry before fading from view. And it hurts none. They would know. They have the very same rune etched into their neck.

Protection against her variant of mind control.

They then step back and move to open the door.

They’re winding up for something. And then, with quiet quality to it—soft and delicate like wind chimes—they try to speak aloud.

An opportunity for practice they have been lacking. Neglected. It would be good to try now.]

“P… pro… protection. Yes.

But. Of d… iffer… ent. Different. Likes.

They thought that they had been getting better at this sort of thing. But clearly, they remain as awkward (and insensitive) as ever. And so, they can do little more than stare, uncertain on what to do exactly.

They aren't equipped to deal with this sort of thing.

They didn't even deal with their own troubles properly.

Still. Despite themself, they shake their head and wind up to start speaking aloud.]

"No. G... gone is she. N... not here."

[They tap on their head where their own fracture is. Albeit one nowhere close to being as severe as their sibling's. A tiny pang of sympathy worms its way in anew. It's only a small part of their sibling's troubles. Much of that lies beyond the physical, but getting that fixed could be a good start.]

"Fix it. Y... your w... ound. We should.

But. Away. B... beyond here."

@vessel-broken

[Quick is the yanking to catch Holly's attention.

Their head swivels down, gaze angled so as to just about (awkwardly) meet the other's, before they offer a questioning look.

Ever curious. Ever patient.

They then starts drawing.

They draw themselves on the side of something

(Sleeping)

They then draw a circle above them, with something in it.

It is a white fluffy thing, with yellow glowing eyes, with orange lines coming from them.

They then draw this fluffy thing with a speech bubble, what is in it is gibberish.

Every rough line, every color selected, every simplistic part etched into the pristine papers of the sketchbook, the faint smell of parchment gently wafting out the open pages.

What is being illustrated gradually becomes clear...

And almost imperceptibly, their expression darkens.

A tiny bit of tension springs to their posture and they take a crayon of their own to draw several lines right through the image of the Radiance, each one made to look as though dripping blood.

Then they point to themself and in the general direction of the Tearless city far beyond.

She won't pull what she did before. Runecraft has seen to this.

It glitters of Soul, of the very divine light that persists even through the darkness of their very being, in almost a kind of poetry before fading from view. And it hurts none. They would know. They have the very same rune etched into their neck.

Protection against her variant of mind control.

They then step back and move to open the door.

They’re winding up for something. And then, with quiet quality to it—soft and delicate like wind chimes—they try to speak aloud.

An opportunity for practice they have been lacking. Neglected. It would be good to try now.]

“P… pro… protection. Yes.

But. Of d… iffer… ent. Different. Likes.

They thought that they had been getting better at this sort of thing. But clearly, they remain as awkward (and insensitive) as ever. And so, they can do little more than stare, uncertain on what to do exactly.

They aren't equipped to deal with this sort of thing.

They didn't even deal with their own troubles properly.

Still. Despite themself, they shake their head and wind up to start speaking aloud.]

"No. G... gone is she. N... not here."

[They tap on their head where their own fracture is. Albeit one nowhere close to being as severe as their sibling's. A tiny pang of sympathy worms its way in anew. It's only a small part of their sibling's troubles. Much of that lies beyond the physical, but getting that fixed could be a good start.]

"Fix it. Y... your w... ound. We should.

But. Away. B... beyond here."

@vessel-broken

[Quick is the yanking to catch Holly's attention.

Their head swivels down, gaze angled so as to just about (awkwardly) meet the other's, before they offer a questioning look.

Ever curious. Ever patient.

They then starts drawing.

They draw themselves on the side of something

(Sleeping)

They then draw a circle above them, with something in it.

It is a white fluffy thing, with yellow glowing eyes, with orange lines coming from them.

They then draw this fluffy thing with a speech bubble, what is in it is gibberish.

Every rough line, every color selected, every simplistic part etched into the pristine papers of the sketchbook, the faint smell of parchment gently wafting out the open pages.

What is being illustrated gradually becomes clear...

And almost imperceptibly, their expression darkens.

A tiny bit of tension springs to their posture and they take a crayon of their own to draw several lines right through the image of the Radiance, each one made to look as though dripping blood.

Then they point to themself and in the general direction of the Tearless city far beyond.

She won't pull what she did before. Runecraft has seen to this.

It glitters of Soul, of the very divine light that persists even through the darkness of their very being, in almost a kind of poetry before fading from view. And it hurts none. They would know. They have the very same rune etched into their neck.

Protection against her variant of mind control.

They then step back and move to open the door.

They’re winding up for something. And then, with quiet quality to it—soft and delicate like wind chimes—they try to speak aloud.

An opportunity for practice they have been lacking. Neglected. It would be good to try now.]

“P… pro… protection. Yes.

But. Of d… iffer… ent. Different. Likes.

They thought that they had been getting better at this sort of thing. But clearly, they remain as awkward (and insensitive) as ever. And so, they can do little more than stare, uncertain on what to do exactly.

They aren't equipped to deal with this sort of thing.

They didn't even deal with their own troubles properly.

Still. Despite themself, they shake their head and wind up to start speaking aloud.]

"No. G... gone is she. N... not here."

[They tap on their head where their own fracture is. Albeit one nowhere close to being as severe as their sibling's. A tiny pang of sympathy worms its way in anew. It's only a small part of their sibling's troubles. Much of that lies beyond the physical, but getting that fixed could be a good start.]

"Fix it. Y... your w... ound. We should.

But. Away. B... beyond here."

@vessel-broken

[Quick is the yanking to catch Holly's attention.

Their head swivels down, gaze angled so as to just about (awkwardly) meet the other's, before they offer a questioning look.

Ever curious. Ever patient.

They then starts drawing.

They draw themselves on the side of something

(Sleeping)

They then draw a circle above them, with something in it.

It is a white fluffy thing, with yellow glowing eyes, with orange lines coming from them.

They then draw this fluffy thing with a speech bubble, what is in it is gibberish.

Every rough line, every color selected, every simplistic part etched into the pristine papers of the sketchbook, the faint smell of parchment gently wafting out the open pages.

What is being illustrated gradually becomes clear...

And almost imperceptibly, their expression darkens.

A tiny bit of tension springs to their posture and they take a crayon of their own to draw several lines right through the image of the Radiance, each one made to look as though dripping blood.

Then they point to themself and in the general direction of the Tearless city far beyond.

She won't pull what she did before. Runecraft has seen to this.

It glitters of Soul, of the very divine light that persists even through the darkness of their very being, in almost a kind of poetry before fading from view. And it hurts none. They would know. They have the very same rune etched into their neck.

Protection against her variant of mind control.

They then step back and move to open the door.

They’re winding up for something. And then, with quiet quality to it—soft and delicate like wind chimes—they try to speak aloud.

An opportunity for practice they have been lacking. Neglected. It would be good to try now.]

“P… pro… protection. Yes.

But. Of d… iffer… ent. Different. Likes.

@vessel-broken

[Quick is the yanking to catch Holly's attention.

Their head swivels down, gaze angled so as to just about (awkwardly) meet the other's, before they offer a questioning look.

Ever curious. Ever patient.

They then starts drawing.

They draw themselves on the side of something

(Sleeping)

They then draw a circle above them, with something in it.

It is a white fluffy thing, with yellow glowing eyes, with orange lines coming from them.

They then draw this fluffy thing with a speech bubble, what is in it is gibberish.

Every rough line, every color selected, every simplistic part etched into the pristine papers of the sketchbook, the faint smell of parchment gently wafting out the open pages.

What is being illustrated gradually becomes clear...

And almost imperceptibly, their expression darkens.

A tiny bit of tension springs to their posture and they take a crayon of their own to draw several lines right through the image of the Radiance, each one made to look as though dripping blood.

Then they point to themself and in the general direction of the Tearless city far beyond.

She won't pull what she did before. Runecraft has seen to this.

It glitters of Soul, of the very divine light that persists even through the darkness of their very being, in almost a kind of poetry before fading from view. And it hurts none. They would know. They have the very same rune etched into their neck.

Protection against her variant of mind control.

They then step back and move to open the door.

@vessel-broken

[Quick is the yanking to catch Holly's attention.

Their head swivels down, gaze angled so as to just about (awkwardly) meet the other's, before they offer a questioning look.

Ever curious. Ever patient.

They then starts drawing.

They draw themselves on the side of something

(Sleeping)

They then draw a circle above them, with something in it.

It is a white fluffy thing, with yellow glowing eyes, with orange lines coming from them.

They then draw this fluffy thing with a speech bubble, what is in it is gibberish.

Every rough line, every color selected, every simplistic part etched into the pristine papers of the sketchbook, the faint smell of parchment gently wafting out the open pages.

What is being illustrated gradually becomes clear...

And almost imperceptibly, their expression darkens.

A tiny bit of tension springs to their posture and they take a crayon of their own to draw several lines right through the image of the Radiance, each one made to look as though dripping blood.

Then they point to themself and in the general direction of the Tearless city far beyond.

She won't pull what she did before. Runecraft has seen to this.

@vessel-broken

[Quick is the yanking to catch Holly's attention.

Their head swivels down, gaze angled so as to just about (awkwardly) meet the other's, before they offer a questioning look.

Ever curious. Ever patient.

They then starts drawing.

They draw themselves on the side of something

(Sleeping)

They then draw a circle above them, with something in it.

It is a white fluffy thing, with yellow glowing eyes, with orange lines coming from them.

They then draw this fluffy thing with a speech bubble, what is in it is gibberish.

Every rough line, every color selected, every simplistic part etched into the pristine papers of the sketchbook, the faint smell of parchment gently wafting out the open pages.

What is being illustrated gradually becomes clear...

And almost imperceptibly, their expression darkens.

A tiny bit of tension springs to their posture and they take a crayon of their own to draw several lines right through the image of the Radiance, each one made to look as though dripping blood.

Then they point to themself and in the general direction of the Tearless city far beyond.

She won't pull what she did before. Runecraft has seen to this.

@vessel-broken

[Quick is the yanking to catch Holly's attention.

Their head swivels down, gaze angled so as to just about (awkwardly) meet the other's, before they offer a questioning look.

Ever curious. Ever patient.

They then starts drawing.

They draw themselves on the side of something

(Sleeping)

They then draw a circle above them, with something in it.

It is a white fluffy thing, with yellow glowing eyes, with orange lines coming from them.

They then draw this fluffy thing with a speech bubble, what is in it is gibberish.

@vessel-broken

[Quick is the yanking to catch Holly's attention.

Their head swivels down, gaze angled so as to just about (awkwardly) meet the other's, before they offer a questioning look.

Ever curious. Ever patient.

It's similar to the one you produced in the black egg temple.

Maybe it would be a good idea to investigate.

@vessel-broken

[Memories swirl to the forefront of their mind; bright, sharp, and searing, even in the deep darkness of the temple itself.

The… call…

It reverberates like echoes of the call they once made themself, but without exact words placed to it. It bumps around in their mind in a way that’s difficult to ignore.

It is a distress call after all.

Kin…?

A Vessel. Kin. Sibling.

Not one that they know exactly, but a sibling all the same. A part of them longs to reach out and offer assurance, seeing the fear all too clear in the way the other runs to hide. But, the more rational part has them take to looking around, body tensed and at the ready to... dispose of whatever barrels through.

(How… long has their sibling been here like… this…?)

Then a tilt of their head and a telepathic message is pushed out.]

Last one who did it was her

How to communicate… how to communicate…

A moment passes before a finger (of black shell) is somewhat clumsily stuck in the dirt to write out a message: “Sorry. I mean you no harm.”

Then an illustration, rather crude and childish in its form and largely reliant upon stick figure-like etchings, is made under it. It’s of Holly themself with their nail drawn and the broken Vessel across, but gigantic X is put through their own nail.

They even show their open hands, waved to and fro, to indicate the lack of intent to harm before backing away a few steps so that their sibling (if they wish to) may gain the opportunity to see the revised communication.

Absolutely no more mind-speak. Not with them. It is quite likely that the intrusion brings up certain… memories… ones to which they can relate.

Holly approaches the dirt anew and draws more before stepping back. Of childish likes, as was the case before, the images are as follows:

The Pale King and the White Lady, a horizontal line connecting the two, then a line dropping down and expanding out to point to new drawings of Holly and the broken Vessel.

A sort of incomplete family tree. The intended message: “I am your sibling.”

Malnourished, hurt, scared and tired.

Unblinking and with an expression most impassive... they stare.

They had presumed that there was some kind of threat that had frightened their poor sibling so... but perhaps it is merely this... place and the condition they are in, in general.

After some deliberation... they approach the dirt patch anew and create another illustration. This time, it depicts the basin as a whole in an exceedingly simplified format--all simple shapes with few details--and an arrow pointing out. Beneath the arrow is yet another illustration of Holly and the broken Vessel, but they're holding hands.

Roughly, this translates to:

That takes courage.

They offer a few of the most awkward (yet no less sincere in intent) pats ever, as delicate as can be, to their sibling's shoulder before straightening up. They then teleport themself and their sibling out...

... and before the hot springs within the Crossroads.

They're splashing in the water a little to themself.

A thing that they seem to enjoy it would seem.

They point between the two of them and then towards the exit, head tilting at the end. It's a silent question. One that asks... that beckons to tell Holly themself when they are satisfied with the hot springs in full.

While they are (somewhat) pressed for time, wanting to get to building that snare as they do, this is important as well.

Their thoughts loop in a (somewhat circular) tangent; mainly flickering between the snare and the very objects of protection, against Essence-based mind control, that they had long since distributed to the bugs of Hallownest. On what else they could do...

Chocolate maybe?

They had briefly paused, upon gaining certain information of import, to try their claws at making some. A minor project to destress a little and develop the skill required to make something for their father for when he wakes up. A small sort of congratulations.

Periodically, as the two walk the somewhat short distance to Dirtmouth, Holly glances at their sibling. One part, to make sure that the other is still there. Another part? a sort of internal conflict held over whether or not to try at the... "small talk".

They are curious. They would like to know their sibling more. And so, eventually they point to their sibling, head tilting to the side anew.

Almost there.

Rare is it that they inquire about names, often forgetting such niceties as they do.

They turn to look at a slab of stone nearby on the last climb up that would take the two out of the Crossroads and into Dirtmouth.

Sharp claw extended out, they scrape into the stone to create a rather basic image cut in sharp points and rough edges; a holly tree. They then point to themself.

Rarer yet is it that they remember to give their own name out to others.

They then rush to the fridge, opens it and starts devouring everything in it.

No more than a vaguely bemused blink passes before they recover. Though they didn’t expect the sudden go for all the food—none of which was especially extraordinary—it makes a sad sort of sense. Pressed in a ponderance they never linger on for long or very deeply; the living conditions of siblings that got left behind.

A pang of sympathy shoots through. The woes of another sibling—the Shade Lord themself, of a split path—hauntingly echo through their mind, and with it comes a thought. The thought of just how… fortunate they actually were to have been picked, even if only as a tool.

They look to the gaping hole in their sibling’s head and squint. Either mother or Hermes should have a look at that. Soon. As it is now…

… maybe a nap is due for that sibling of theirs?

It's similar to the one you produced in the black egg temple.

Maybe it would be a good idea to investigate.

@vessel-broken

[Memories swirl to the forefront of their mind; bright, sharp, and searing, even in the deep darkness of the temple itself.

The… call…

It reverberates like echoes of the call they once made themself, but without exact words placed to it. It bumps around in their mind in a way that’s difficult to ignore.

It is a distress call after all.

Kin…?

A Vessel. Kin. Sibling.

Not one that they know exactly, but a sibling all the same. A part of them longs to reach out and offer assurance, seeing the fear all too clear in the way the other runs to hide. But, the more rational part has them take to looking around, body tensed and at the ready to... dispose of whatever barrels through.

(How… long has their sibling been here like… this…?)

Then a tilt of their head and a telepathic message is pushed out.]

Last one who did it was her

How to communicate… how to communicate…

A moment passes before a finger (of black shell) is somewhat clumsily stuck in the dirt to write out a message: “Sorry. I mean you no harm.”

Then an illustration, rather crude and childish in its form and largely reliant upon stick figure-like etchings, is made under it. It’s of Holly themself with their nail drawn and the broken Vessel across, but gigantic X is put through their own nail.

They even show their open hands, waved to and fro, to indicate the lack of intent to harm before backing away a few steps so that their sibling (if they wish to) may gain the opportunity to see the revised communication.

Absolutely no more mind-speak. Not with them. It is quite likely that the intrusion brings up certain… memories… ones to which they can relate.

Holly approaches the dirt anew and draws more before stepping back. Of childish likes, as was the case before, the images are as follows:

The Pale King and the White Lady, a horizontal line connecting the two, then a line dropping down and expanding out to point to new drawings of Holly and the broken Vessel.

A sort of incomplete family tree. The intended message: “I am your sibling.”

Malnourished, hurt, scared and tired.

Unblinking and with an expression most impassive... they stare.

They had presumed that there was some kind of threat that had frightened their poor sibling so... but perhaps it is merely this... place and the condition they are in, in general.

After some deliberation... they approach the dirt patch anew and create another illustration. This time, it depicts the basin as a whole in an exceedingly simplified format--all simple shapes with few details--and an arrow pointing out. Beneath the arrow is yet another illustration of Holly and the broken Vessel, but they're holding hands.

Roughly, this translates to:

That takes courage.

They offer a few of the most awkward (yet no less sincere in intent) pats ever, as delicate as can be, to their sibling's shoulder before straightening up. They then teleport themself and their sibling out...

... and before the hot springs within the Crossroads.

They're splashing in the water a little to themself.

A thing that they seem to enjoy it would seem.

They point between the two of them and then towards the exit, head tilting at the end. It's a silent question. One that asks... that beckons to tell Holly themself when they are satisfied with the hot springs in full.

While they are (somewhat) pressed for time, wanting to get to building that snare as they do, this is important as well.

Their thoughts loop in a (somewhat circular) tangent; mainly flickering between the snare and the very objects of protection, against Essence-based mind control, that they had long since distributed to the bugs of Hallownest. On what else they could do...

Chocolate maybe?

They had briefly paused, upon gaining certain information of import, to try their claws at making some. A minor project to destress a little and develop the skill required to make something for their father for when he wakes up. A small sort of congratulations.

Periodically, as the two walk the somewhat short distance to Dirtmouth, Holly glances at their sibling. One part, to make sure that the other is still there. Another part? a sort of internal conflict held over whether or not to try at the... "small talk".

They are curious. They would like to know their sibling more. And so, eventually they point to their sibling, head tilting to the side anew.

Almost there.

Rare is it that they inquire about names, often forgetting such niceties as they do.

They turn to look at a slab of stone nearby on the last climb up that would take the two out of the Crossroads and into Dirtmouth.

Sharp claw extended out, they scrape into the stone to create a rather basic image cut in sharp points and rough edges; a holly tree. They then point to themself.

Rarer yet is it that they remember to give their own name out to others.

They then rush to the fridge, opens it and starts devouring everything in it.

It's similar to the one you produced in the black egg temple.

Maybe it would be a good idea to investigate.

@vessel-broken

[Memories swirl to the forefront of their mind; bright, sharp, and searing, even in the deep darkness of the temple itself.

The… call…

It reverberates like echoes of the call they once made themself, but without exact words placed to it. It bumps around in their mind in a way that’s difficult to ignore.

It is a distress call after all.

Kin…?

A Vessel. Kin. Sibling.

Not one that they know exactly, but a sibling all the same. A part of them longs to reach out and offer assurance, seeing the fear all too clear in the way the other runs to hide. But, the more rational part has them take to looking around, body tensed and at the ready to... dispose of whatever barrels through.

(How… long has their sibling been here like… this…?)

Then a tilt of their head and a telepathic message is pushed out.]

Last one who did it was her

How to communicate… how to communicate…

A moment passes before a finger (of black shell) is somewhat clumsily stuck in the dirt to write out a message: “Sorry. I mean you no harm.”

Then an illustration, rather crude and childish in its form and largely reliant upon stick figure-like etchings, is made under it. It’s of Holly themself with their nail drawn and the broken Vessel across, but gigantic X is put through their own nail.

They even show their open hands, waved to and fro, to indicate the lack of intent to harm before backing away a few steps so that their sibling (if they wish to) may gain the opportunity to see the revised communication.

Absolutely no more mind-speak. Not with them. It is quite likely that the intrusion brings up certain… memories… ones to which they can relate.

Holly approaches the dirt anew and draws more before stepping back. Of childish likes, as was the case before, the images are as follows:

The Pale King and the White Lady, a horizontal line connecting the two, then a line dropping down and expanding out to point to new drawings of Holly and the broken Vessel.

A sort of incomplete family tree. The intended message: “I am your sibling.”

Malnourished, hurt, scared and tired.

Unblinking and with an expression most impassive... they stare.

They had presumed that there was some kind of threat that had frightened their poor sibling so... but perhaps it is merely this... place and the condition they are in, in general.

After some deliberation... they approach the dirt patch anew and create another illustration. This time, it depicts the basin as a whole in an exceedingly simplified format--all simple shapes with few details--and an arrow pointing out. Beneath the arrow is yet another illustration of Holly and the broken Vessel, but they're holding hands.

Roughly, this translates to:

That takes courage.

They offer a few of the most awkward (yet no less sincere in intent) pats ever, as delicate as can be, to their sibling's shoulder before straightening up. They then teleport themself and their sibling out...

... and before the hot springs within the Crossroads.

They're splashing in the water a little to themself.

A thing that they seem to enjoy it would seem.

They point between the two of them and then towards the exit, head tilting at the end. It's a silent question. One that asks... that beckons to tell Holly themself when they are satisfied with the hot springs in full.

While they are (somewhat) pressed for time, wanting to get to building that snare as they do, this is important as well.

Their thoughts loop in a (somewhat circular) tangent; mainly flickering between the snare and the very objects of protection, against Essence-based mind control, that they had long since distributed to the bugs of Hallownest. On what else they could do...

Chocolate maybe?

They had briefly paused, upon gaining certain information of import, to try their claws at making some. A minor project to destress a little and develop the skill required to make something for their father for when he wakes up. A small sort of congratulations.

Periodically, as the two walk the somewhat short distance to Dirtmouth, Holly glances at their sibling. One part, to make sure that the other is still there. Another part? a sort of internal conflict held over whether or not to try at the... "small talk".

They are curious. They would like to know their sibling more. And so, eventually they point to their sibling, head tilting to the side anew.

Almost there.

Rare is it that they inquire about names, often forgetting such niceties as they do.

They turn to look at a slab of stone nearby on the last climb up that would take the two out of the Crossroads and into Dirtmouth.

Sharp claw extended out, they scrape into the stone to create a rather basic image cut in sharp points and rough edges; a holly tree. They then point to themself.

Rarer yet is it that they remember to give their own name out to others.

It's similar to the one you produced in the black egg temple.

Maybe it would be a good idea to investigate.

@vessel-broken

[Memories swirl to the forefront of their mind; bright, sharp, and searing, even in the deep darkness of the temple itself.

The… call…

It reverberates like echoes of the call they once made themself, but without exact words placed to it. It bumps around in their mind in a way that’s difficult to ignore.

It is a distress call after all.

Kin…?

A Vessel. Kin. Sibling.

Not one that they know exactly, but a sibling all the same. A part of them longs to reach out and offer assurance, seeing the fear all too clear in the way the other runs to hide. But, the more rational part has them take to looking around, body tensed and at the ready to... dispose of whatever barrels through.

(How… long has their sibling been here like… this…?)

Then a tilt of their head and a telepathic message is pushed out.]

Last one who did it was her

How to communicate… how to communicate…

A moment passes before a finger (of black shell) is somewhat clumsily stuck in the dirt to write out a message: “Sorry. I mean you no harm.”

Then an illustration, rather crude and childish in its form and largely reliant upon stick figure-like etchings, is made under it. It’s of Holly themself with their nail drawn and the broken Vessel across, but gigantic X is put through their own nail.

They even show their open hands, waved to and fro, to indicate the lack of intent to harm before backing away a few steps so that their sibling (if they wish to) may gain the opportunity to see the revised communication.

Absolutely no more mind-speak. Not with them. It is quite likely that the intrusion brings up certain… memories… ones to which they can relate.

Holly approaches the dirt anew and draws more before stepping back. Of childish likes, as was the case before, the images are as follows:

The Pale King and the White Lady, a horizontal line connecting the two, then a line dropping down and expanding out to point to new drawings of Holly and the broken Vessel.

A sort of incomplete family tree. The intended message: “I am your sibling.”

Malnourished, hurt, scared and tired.

Unblinking and with an expression most impassive... they stare.

They had presumed that there was some kind of threat that had frightened their poor sibling so... but perhaps it is merely this... place and the condition they are in, in general.

After some deliberation... they approach the dirt patch anew and create another illustration. This time, it depicts the basin as a whole in an exceedingly simplified format--all simple shapes with few details--and an arrow pointing out. Beneath the arrow is yet another illustration of Holly and the broken Vessel, but they're holding hands.

Roughly, this translates to:

That takes courage.

They offer a few of the most awkward (yet no less sincere in intent) pats ever, as delicate as can be, to their sibling's shoulder before straightening up. They then teleport themself and their sibling out...

... and before the hot springs within the Crossroads.

They're splashing in the water a little to themself.

A thing that they seem to enjoy it would seem.

They point between the two of them and then towards the exit, head tilting at the end. It's a silent question. One that asks... that beckons to tell Holly themself when they are satisfied with the hot springs in full.

While they are (somewhat) pressed for time, wanting to get to building that snare as they do, this is important as well.

Their thoughts loop in a (somewhat circular) tangent; mainly flickering between the snare and the very objects of protection, against Essence-based mind control, that they had long since distributed to the bugs of Hallownest. On what else they could do...

Chocolate maybe?

They had briefly paused, upon gaining certain information of import, to try their claws at making some. A minor project to destress a little and develop the skill required to make something for their father for when he wakes up. A small sort of congratulations.

Periodically, as the two walk the somewhat short distance to Dirtmouth, Holly glances at their sibling. One part, to make sure that the other is still there. Another part? a sort of internal conflict held over whether or not to try at the... "small talk".

They are curious. They would like to know their sibling more. And so, eventually they point to their sibling, head tilting to the side anew.

It's similar to the one you produced in the black egg temple.

Maybe it would be a good idea to investigate.

@vessel-broken

[Memories swirl to the forefront of their mind; bright, sharp, and searing, even in the deep darkness of the temple itself.

The… call…

It reverberates like echoes of the call they once made themself, but without exact words placed to it. It bumps around in their mind in a way that’s difficult to ignore.

It is a distress call after all.

Kin…?

A Vessel. Kin. Sibling.

Not one that they know exactly, but a sibling all the same. A part of them longs to reach out and offer assurance, seeing the fear all too clear in the way the other runs to hide. But, the more rational part has them take to looking around, body tensed and at the ready to... dispose of whatever barrels through.

(How… long has their sibling been here like… this…?)

Then a tilt of their head and a telepathic message is pushed out.]

Last one who did it was her

How to communicate… how to communicate…

A moment passes before a finger (of black shell) is somewhat clumsily stuck in the dirt to write out a message: “Sorry. I mean you no harm.”

Then an illustration, rather crude and childish in its form and largely reliant upon stick figure-like etchings, is made under it. It’s of Holly themself with their nail drawn and the broken Vessel across, but gigantic X is put through their own nail.

They even show their open hands, waved to and fro, to indicate the lack of intent to harm before backing away a few steps so that their sibling (if they wish to) may gain the opportunity to see the revised communication.

Absolutely no more mind-speak. Not with them. It is quite likely that the intrusion brings up certain… memories… ones to which they can relate.

Holly approaches the dirt anew and draws more before stepping back. Of childish likes, as was the case before, the images are as follows:

The Pale King and the White Lady, a horizontal line connecting the two, then a line dropping down and expanding out to point to new drawings of Holly and the broken Vessel.

A sort of incomplete family tree. The intended message: “I am your sibling.”

Malnourished, hurt, scared and tired.

Unblinking and with an expression most impassive... they stare.

They had presumed that there was some kind of threat that had frightened their poor sibling so... but perhaps it is merely this... place and the condition they are in, in general.

After some deliberation... they approach the dirt patch anew and create another illustration. This time, it depicts the basin as a whole in an exceedingly simplified format--all simple shapes with few details--and an arrow pointing out. Beneath the arrow is yet another illustration of Holly and the broken Vessel, but they're holding hands.

Roughly, this translates to:

That takes courage.

They offer a few of the most awkward (yet no less sincere in intent) pats ever, as delicate as can be, to their sibling's shoulder before straightening up. They then teleport themself and their sibling out...

... and before the hot springs within the Crossroads.

They're splashing in the water a little to themself.

A thing that they seem to enjoy it would seem.

They point between the two of them and then towards the exit, head tilting at the end. It's a silent question. One that asks... that beckons to tell Holly themself when they are satisfied with the hot springs in full.

While they are (somewhat) pressed for time, wanting to get to building that snare as they do, this is important as well.

Their thoughts loop in a (somewhat circular) tangent; mainly flickering between the snare and the very objects of protection, against Essence-based mind control, that they had long since distributed to the bugs of Hallownest. On what else they could do...

It's similar to the one you produced in the black egg temple.

Maybe it would be a good idea to investigate.

@vessel-broken

[Memories swirl to the forefront of their mind; bright, sharp, and searing, even in the deep darkness of the temple itself.

The… call…

It reverberates like echoes of the call they once made themself, but without exact words placed to it. It bumps around in their mind in a way that’s difficult to ignore.

It is a distress call after all.

Kin…?

A Vessel. Kin. Sibling.

Not one that they know exactly, but a sibling all the same. A part of them longs to reach out and offer assurance, seeing the fear all too clear in the way the other runs to hide. But, the more rational part has them take to looking around, body tensed and at the ready to... dispose of whatever barrels through.

(How… long has their sibling been here like… this…?)

Then a tilt of their head and a telepathic message is pushed out.]

Last one who did it was her

How to communicate… how to communicate…

A moment passes before a finger (of black shell) is somewhat clumsily stuck in the dirt to write out a message: “Sorry. I mean you no harm.”

Then an illustration, rather crude and childish in its form and largely reliant upon stick figure-like etchings, is made under it. It’s of Holly themself with their nail drawn and the broken Vessel across, but gigantic X is put through their own nail.

They even show their open hands, waved to and fro, to indicate the lack of intent to harm before backing away a few steps so that their sibling (if they wish to) may gain the opportunity to see the revised communication.

Absolutely no more mind-speak. Not with them. It is quite likely that the intrusion brings up certain… memories… ones to which they can relate.

Holly approaches the dirt anew and draws more before stepping back. Of childish likes, as was the case before, the images are as follows:

The Pale King and the White Lady, a horizontal line connecting the two, then a line dropping down and expanding out to point to new drawings of Holly and the broken Vessel.

A sort of incomplete family tree. The intended message: “I am your sibling.”

Malnourished, hurt, scared and tired.

Unblinking and with an expression most impassive... they stare.

They had presumed that there was some kind of threat that had frightened their poor sibling so... but perhaps it is merely this... place and the condition they are in, in general.

After some deliberation... they approach the dirt patch anew and create another illustration. This time, it depicts the basin as a whole in an exceedingly simplified format--all simple shapes with few details--and an arrow pointing out. Beneath the arrow is yet another illustration of Holly and the broken Vessel, but they're holding hands.

Roughly, this translates to:

That takes courage.

They offer a few of the most awkward (yet no less sincere in intent) pats ever, as delicate as can be, to their sibling's shoulder before straightening up. They then teleport themself and their sibling out...

... and before the hot springs within the Crossroads.

They're splashing in the water a little to themself.

A thing that they seem to enjoy it would seem.

They point between the two of them and then towards the exit, head tilting at the end. It's a silent question. One that asks... that beckons to tell Holly themself when they are satisfied with the hot springs in full.

While they are (somewhat) pressed for time, wanting to get to building that snare as they do, this is important as well.