Void Given Heart...

The massive void god looked down as they were spoken to, lowering their head to try and examine the other. Large white eyes, empty and hollow. They paused, before grabbing their notebook, writing in it for the other to read. It’s not like many could hear their voice, anyways.

Grimm… also blinks. He supposes Ghost’s response is natural and makes sense. It’s far simpler than all the thinking he had done, and Spirale is an odd place. Child is self - but still love child - want to see child - why not? But he just… can’t accept it.

He covers his mouth with a hand and looks down, unable to think of a proper response. Grimm’s never gotten to raise his child beyond more than a month at most… and his heart aches at the thought of being able to see the little thing more than that.

…but it’s not like they could ever be like a real family. Getting to see him, but barely every so often, would break him more than simply moving on.

“…It’s not meant to be,” is all the moth can find words for.

Another, long, slow blink. They press their head against Grimm in a gesture of comfort, one they’d seen from some bugs before. Reasonably, the other’s feelings made sense, especially the other’s reactions.

And yet. And yet the void once again could not understand the pain. They made a small huff, the void of their cheeks seeming puff out like indignation. For something seemingly emotionless, they were quite expressive, almost childlike in their behavior.

“Surely you must realize what he is by now, right?”

Grimm hesitantly turns around, holding his wings close. He’d lost so much sleep over this. Cancelled shows and practice.

“A vessel. But… not quite like you were. He is me, and I am him. We are the same being. He even shares my memories. Should the future have continued without this island’s intervention, the truth is that you and I would be adventuring together right now.”

…He can’t believe how much he’s spilling out. No one is supposed to know. He never even told Brumm. But Ghost is his child’s caretaker, and there’s a very real chance he would return to them.

“And this body is supposed to be dead! Slain by you to continue my never-ending song. Never do I have a father after the ritual. That is how it is. He does not need me. To pretend to be my own father and my own son is nothing but the Troupe Master’s foolish fantasy. To continue this here would be absurd and serve neither of us.”

The old god, yet young vessel, stared at Grimm as he spoke, listening as they would before. Their void-body twitched as they leaned down, blinking slowly.

‘Confused. Met in Halls of Gods, after the Ritual. Still had the Child. Ascended. Why worry? Does not matter here. Time very funny like that,’ Perhaps it was just the natural apathy of the void, but for the life of them, they just couldn’t understand why this bothered the Troupe master.

@voidgivenheart

“Ghost!”

Grimm runs up to the mass of void that stands before him. He’d been looking for them for a while, wondering where the now so large vessel could have been lurking. But now that the moth finds them… well, he realizes he doesn’t actually want to have this conversation.

“…Ah. I just need to let you know about something; I won’t take up much of your time… Would that be alright?”

Such timid words, unlike the Troupe Master’s boisterous self. He stands up straight and looks over to the side, almost like he can’t face his friend.

“I did some thinking. If… you happen to see my child again… it’s best that I not meet him again. It’s… better for him, that way. You will… make sure he is safe, yes?”

The vessel turned god is lazing about in the Archimedes Ward, namely by the large pool of water. They’re relaxed, so it’s no surprise they raise their head so lazily as Grimm approached. They listen to what he says, tilting their head. 

Slowly, they move from the pool, coming closer to Grimm. They blink slowly, before getting their notepad.

she attempts to look past the larger being, wanting to see how makes the spot appealing. she doesn’t see much, but takes their words for it anyway. with a small nod she proceeds to introduce herself.

“I’m Djeeta! It’s nice to meet you.” she stares up at them for a beat. “What’s your name? I’ve never ran into you before.”

Considering the odd spot, the massive creature was more than likely used to weird spots to rest rather than traditional ones. As they process her words, they write their answer neatly, delicately.

Grimm’s interest is piqued. The Hollow Knight, another vessel, and some other bug was here? And now himself? It seemed whoever the Stars were seemed to have some fondness for those involved in the fate of Hallownest.            …Or had been, at least. A quick flip through the phone’s contact list shows none of those names or anything like them.

“It appears they no longer walk this island. Where have they gone, I wonder. Back home…? It is what it is, I suppose. But yes, theater. That is when you stand on a magnificent stage and all watch your performance with awe and adoration! Like we once did, our brilliant dance.”

“The most wonderful thing about it is how stories are told through song and dance! We capture the emotions of the characters, displaying the work with all the expression it was meant to have!”

The Shadelord tilted their head, musing upon this odd change. Yes, perhaps the others did go back. But nonetheless, the God was sure they’d all meet again soon. The talk of theater did perk them up. Sure, they weren’t particularly thrilled with the other fights but fighting with Grimm was always fun!

“Oh, you’re having a good time, then! How grand! If anyone deserves it, I’d say it would be you.”

And Hornet. And the Hollow Knight. And the rest of Wyrm’s million dead children. A shame, that. Grimm kind of wants to ask about their father—he did consider him friend, after all—but… it seems wrong, right now. He doesn’t have it in him to be so callous to Ghost.

“I crossed paths with Hornet some time ago. Have you seen any of the others? It’s certainly different to be one of the only bugs here, but I have also found the people of this city quite kind. Other than the steel woman who tried to kill me, that is… but that is beside the point.

…Say! You should come watch me at the theater some time. You’ve not yet had a chance to enjoy such things, have you?”

They wouldn’t have anything good to say about their father anyways. Instead, they they seem fascinated by what the other had to say.

Upon reading the second note, Grimm visibly calms and backs off to his previous distance. That’s as best as he can hope for, for now. As long as the ritual worked, that is what ultimately matters.

“Ghost, then! How happy I am to finally have something to call you. Now then, well… you can imagine my surprise when I woke up here, in this body, after you killed me. But it seems to have worked out…?”

“But where do those Stars get off taking my little ember like he’s some piece of luggage?! Who do I talk to? Where can I complain! Oh, never mind…!”

Grimm utters a sigh and returns to things that actually have an impact right now.

“So, what have you been doing here? I’ve found this to be a land of wonders and amazement! Did you know that these people have invented even more instruments with which to entrance listeners? I admit that these fleshy creatures certainly are odd, but I will grant it to them that they have a good musical sense. And fashion. And art. And…” he starts trailing on, and on…

Ghost has to try not to laugh as the other talks, just sitting there patiently, listening to the other ramble. Listening was something they were very good at, after all! It takes them a bit to process they’ve been asked a question, before they’re writing.

Grimm can feel his anxiety swelling as the colossal god approaches him. What words of wisdom and terror was the grand Lord of Shades going to impart upon him? Will his vessel’s mind still be the same after gaining such forbidden knowledge? What could it possibly be?! Then…

Oh. Well. Grimm blinks, nervousness draining away in an instant. They wrote ‘hello!’ even with such a happy looking exclamation mark. He’s not sure what he expected. But this… uh, suits the little vessel he remembers, now that he thinks about it.

Quickly regaining his spirit, the bug levitates over to examine the once-little knight’s body in interest.

“Look at you!” he praises, “How you’ve grown! I’m so proud of you! I must say, I did not think you’d take a form like this, but reality is truly wilder than the imagination sometimes! And you can communicate now? Do you have a name, my friend?”

Grimm doesn’t really have anything else to call them other than vessel, but that’s… kind of awful, and not really a name. Wait. Before that, there’s something more important. He zips to the Shadelord’s face, gripping at them.

“My child! Where is my child? Do you still have him? Is he safe? Did the ritual work?!” the Troupe Master nearly screeches out.

They sit politely, letting him look around them. Of course, they’re a very vantablack hue, making most of their details almost impossible to see. A living shadow, essentially. As the other praises them, they puff up a little, only to startle as he gets up close, fretting over- right. The Grimmchild.

They look away for a moment, almost seeming to become a bit of a puddle, before they write.

‘Name? Many names. Sister calls Ghost. Nice people here call Dante. Shadelord. Lord of Shades. Little Knight. Many names.’ They answer the first question quick enough.

Their next answer, however, comes much slower.

@voidgivenheart

Grimm hasn’t explored much of the Cotes ward. Why not? He’s bored, and there’s a weird forest. It sounds like a fine Friday night to him.

When he goes further in, he immediately notices the strange winged flesh creatures fleeing and avoiding him, which amuses the Troupe Master. Were they scared? Actually, he notices even more animals and things dashing off into the distance, but it’s not until Grimm’s own heart starts pulsing faster that he realizes they might be evading something else.

What is nearby that could evoke a reaction from him? The idea only excites him further, and Grimm pushes farther into the woodland until something ahead is so dark, as if it were absorbing light, that it reminds him of the deepest abyss. He looks up.

Lord of Shades, the nightmare god’s mind echoes in remembrance of legends he’d read and heard.

…Wait! Didn’t Hornet say… the vessel, different form…?

“M… My friend?” Grimm calls out to the being. Did they remember him?

The Shadelord, a massive creature, isn’t easy to hide in the relatively smaller forest of the Cotes Ward. Not that that was the plan, anyways. Really, they were moreso just interested in wandering, following some of the creatures that’d run. Of course, they knew they were intimidating, but they were friendly too!

They slowed, settling on their haunches, looking up at the sky, at the clouds passing overhead. Then, they hear a familiar voice, slowly tilting their head back down, perking up at the sight of the ringmaster. How long had it been since they had seen him? Days? Months? Millenia? They don’t know. Time is funny to them.

They dart over, their long body stumbling a little, before they slid to a halt in front of him, lowering their face to look. They’re smaller than they were before as a god, merely ten feet but... they don’t mind.

From their ‘inventory’, they withdraw a journal and pen, hastily scribbling something down to show the troupemaster.

Affinity Chart Update: @voidgivenheart​

He definitely should have dug out his apartment earlier than this. With his priority having been to help out his neighbors first, he’d neglected his own door which was now buried deep under the snow. And more just kept falling.

The only way into his house now would be through the window. The problem was that the crystal was surprisingly hard to climb. His hands were covered with scrapes from his previous attempts.

Suddenly, he felt like he was being watched. 

Drawing his Monado, he spun around quickly… only to be met by Dante’s silhouette. Sighing with relief, he sheathed the sword across his back alongside his diamondized street sign and walked forward to meet the god.

“Sorry, Dante! I thought you might have been one of those monsters I’ve been hearing about.” He looked closer, but it was hard to tell if Dante was hurt or not when their body was entirely pitch black. “Are you and your… siblings alright?”

The god had long since given up digging out their apartment, instead roaming the streets. They supposed it was inevitable they’d see a familiar face. As they came closer, they jolted when Shulk pointed his weapon at them, only to relax when he put it away. They weren’t hurt, thankfully, as they lean in to check on the other.

Pulling out their notepad, they began to write. ‘Sister fine. Couldn’t find others. Am fine. Very shiny things!’

watching as they pull out a notepad, she waits, apprehension growing as she watches them write. blinking a couple of times as she reads, a sigh of relief leaves her lips and she relaxes. a soft and cheery smile lights up her face. 

“I’m glad I didn’t. Hello!” she returns the greeting. her head tilts to the side, a brow raising in curious wonder. “What were you doing here?”

‘Nap. Much tired, spot comfortable,’ They tell her, leaning their head in a bit. ‘Who are you? New face, never seen.’

Shulk sighs in relief. “I see.” So, it seemed that Dante was the god of something quite old, but even the body they had before this one was young. The thought of it makes him feel bad for Dante. He, too, understands what it’s like to take in an immense power at a young age.

While relieved that Dante hasn’t possessed someone else’s body, the term ‘god’ still bothers him in its implications. He’d just like to check one other thing before it turns into an actual problem. “If you’re a god, do you have the ability to control other people? I know some gods can… Would you even be interested in such a thing?”

Something in Shulk’s heart breaks when the young god shows him the word ‘vessel’. He smiles sadly.

“Ah. I think I understand now. Better than most people could, I imagine. ‘Vessel’ was once a word that could be used to describe me as well. Not in the same way as it would describe you probably, but ‘frailty’ and ‘ascension’? I’ve been through that as well…” He reaches out to give Dante a comforting pat. “I’m truly sorry if I’ve upset you by making you talk about it, Dante. I’m hear to listen or answer any questions you might have. That is, if you want…”

‘Control? No. Not Light. No Need for Control.’ A plain, simple answer as they level with him. They press into the touch, looking at him curiously. Another vessel? Shulk certainly didn’t look like one of their Siblings... Either way they gently bumped their head against his hand, before writing down their questions.

Hornet’s been watching their sibling struggle with trying to pick some “ice” off the ground for minutes on end now, and part of her feels mean for not interjecting sooner. But… it is quite funny to watch. When they finally give up, she taps the surface with her needle.

“This is rock,” she explains. “Snow, I’ve heard, comes from frozen water. But this is…” She pauses to think. “Do you remember Crystal Peak? This is similar rock. But it’s much, much stronger. The only thing that can break diamond…” She stabs her needle, having previously been coated in diamond itself, into the mass on the ground, watching it chip away. “…is more diamond. Do you understand?”

The Shadelord watched her chip away at the bright diamond, occasionally swatting at a chunk or two. This was very curious to them, much different from the winter cold they experienced or the ashes of the Wyrm’s corpse.

When she asked her question, they nodded. 

‘Old as Void. Body young. New, special.’ Shulk did not like the sound of that. It sounded like Dante might have possessed a younger body, and he’d had enough experience with that to know that it almost never ended well for the possessed. He hoped that wasn’t what was going on here - that he’d misunderstood something - but he hadn’t made it this far in life by being optimistic…

“Huh?” He was startled out of his thoughts as he read Dante’s question. “Oh, I’m eighteen-years-old, just old enough to be considered an adult in my world. It’s funny, I’ve experienced so much I feel a lot older that that.” He gave a shaky laugh. Seeing the universe be reborn does that to a person, he supposed. He was trying to keep his responses light so Dante didn’t sense how discomforted he was by the other’s answer.

“So, when you say that your body is young… do you mean that it used to be someone else’s? Or was it maybe recently created? Is that what you mean by ‘new’ and ‘ascended’? Do you still have your memories from before this body? I only ask because sometimes you act quite… young by human standards…”

Shulk hummed in thought. Really the only thing intimidating about Dante was their appearance… and it’s not as if all possession was malevolent. He supposed it was okay to ask one more question. “Is there something you might call others like you, Dante? Like the name of your race or species? Anything like that?”

They slowly blink, their bright eyes staring down as they listened to Shulk’s questions. For as malleable as they were, there was little they actually knew about the outside world, just of themselves.

‘Body mine. Recent Creation. Ascended. Climbed higher. God of Gods. Still remember old body. Small. Frail.’

The question of species gave them pause, before they frantically wrote down several things.

‘Sibling Void God Abyss None’ A short pause, then they scratched in one last word, this one written with a bit more contempt.

When Godseeker had left the warm safety of her housing earlier, she hadn’t exactly expected for it to be the last time she’d be able to get back inside for a while. Unfortunately for her, that seemed to be exactly the case; she was cussing under her breath (in quite the archaic tongue, mind you) while scratching fruitlessly at where the door to her housing had once been with her claws. The sheet of diamond blocking the entrance didn’t budge, crack, or otherwise move at all, and eventually, she turned away to pick up her groceries, seemingly giving up on the task and presumably going to try to find shelter elsewhere. It was just one more form of punishment she deserved, she supposed.

But that was when she saw them. 

While it wasn’t quite visible under her mask, eyes went wide in disbelief, groceries spilling out of her clawed grasp once more as her entire body stiffened– and not from the biting cold. Rather, it was from being face-to-face with the very same being she had assumed had given her this punishment in the first place. The very God who she thought had banished her away, cutting her off from Godhome and the other Godseekers,  the one of void who had enough power to consume the light itself. 

They seemed smaller than she remembered them being, but there was still no mistaking it– especially when mistaking it so badly was what had landed her here in the first place, to her knowledge. As soon as she came back to her senses enough to force her limbs to move, the large bug began to skitter towards the God as fast as her fat body could take her, crying out in a loud, bellowing tone that echoed off all the diamonds in the area.

“O, GOD OF GODS! WE GROVEL BEFORE THEE AND THINE STRENGTH! TO TAKE US TO SUCH UNFAMILIAR LAND, TO TAKE AWAY BOTH OF OUR HOMES, TO LEAVE US STRANDED HERE WITH THE CRUSHING SILENCE AND KNOWLEDGE OF OUR IGNORANT FAILURE… WE WELCOME ALL OF THIS, FOR THAT IS THE LEAST OF WHAT WE DESERVE! WHAT FURTHER PUNISHMENT HAST THOU COME TO DELIVER TO US IN PERSON? WE WELCOME IT! RAIN DIVINE FURY UPON OUR PITIFUL, WORTHLESS FORM, O GOD OF GODS!”

It should probably be noted that as soon as the Godseeker got close enough, she was bowing so far that she was practically touching her mask to the diamonds on the ground, waiting to be struck with the void-tendrils she was sure were coming even as she continued to shout out her desires.

They’re starting to think they should’ve ran while they had the chance. They felt bad for any passerby having to witness this, too. The Shadelord was accustomed to the Godseeker’s theatrics, setting onto their haunches as they listened to her yell. Slowly, they blink, before reaching out in their, relatively unused, ‘voice’.

“Gods͞e͡ek͜ęr͜?̷ ̕Her̨è?̴ ̵Cur̨iou͞s.͜ ͢Qui͞eţ,̢ ͡y̛ơu yell m͡úc̨h.̨ ̶Too ̶muc̛h. Too ̴d͏ŗa̶m͘atìc, ͡too̶.”