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Occasionally, the vessel would find themself writing out a set of rules to follow on spare sheets of dusted parchment. Nothing of which anyone had ordered on them, but simply something they made to keep themself aligned.
They were the same repeated orders, and the vessel would frequently add one or two new ones on. The list was not very long, but it mattered to them.
They were the savior of Hallownest, had they slipped up even once, all would fall. It was their responsibility to correct themself and make sure they were as hollow as a vessel could be.
Despite their claws scrawling as carefully as they could manage, their writing was nothing short of chicken scratch. But they were still proud of it. Ah, they needn’t feel that either. Their claws etched that onto the list as well. How foolish of them.
Perhaps they should go over the set again?
They scooped up the pile of papers, the ones they weren't using fell from their hold and scattered back onto the cold floor. Before they could start, though, the familiar voice of the king sounded throughout their space, prompting them to quickly shove the papers underneath the nearest cabinet and turn around to follow where his voice had called them from.
The vessel would go over them as they walked alongside him, then.
A hollow vessel needn’t take pity.
They were not always the only vessel, from when they first found their way into their creators' gaze, there was another. One that did not have the advantage of getting onto that glowing platform at the same time they did. And the king did not see them.
They knew the other vessel was there, and as they attempted to follow their maker, something tugged at them; a feeling. A feeling that gripped at their mind, forcing them to turn and face the other dangling from the railing.
The other’s empty eyes shone with a rigid fear, their fingers clutching onto the edge desperately. They shook, and sacrificed one of their hands to reach out to the vessel that stood before them.
They wanted to help them.
They shouldn’t help them.
A vessel needn’t take pity on others, and that’s what they were; a hollow vessel. They were unfeeling, unfaltering. And so the other fell, plummeting down into the dark abyss below the two.
It hurt-- It didn’t hurt.
They did not feel.
A hollow vessel needn’t cry.
The sight of the other vessel descending into the darkness continued to haunt their memories, and they couldn’t help but worry. Did they die? Did they end up alright? With the Abyss sealed off permanently, there was no confirming any of their thoughts.
But it was safe enough to assume that they had not made it out alive, the miserable death they faced; falling into a pit derived from the piled skulls of one's own kin, would not allow the possibility of the sort.
Against the fact that they did not know the vessel, they felt a connection to them. Every time their mind reluctantly brought up the sight of their tiny body plummeting helplessly into the darkness, they resisted the urge to cry. It was not an easy task, but they had to control it.
They were a hollow vessel, unfeeling and unfaltering. They would not crumble over a meager death.
A hollow vessel needn’t lie.
It would not stop bothering them. And they couldn’t help but feel remorse for letting the little vessel fall. Remorse? Who were they kidding, they wouldn’t-- couldn’t feel anything of the sort. It was probably something else; another feeling. They would have to cancel that out as well.
They were a hollow vessel, they did not feel anything. Why did they choose to lie to themself about what they felt? Have they no shame?
They would sort it out later; simply another feeling to get rid of. But it would be no problem for them, they were the hollow vessel. It was their purpose to rid themselves of all shame. Unfeeling and unfaltering, they did not lie.
A hollow vessel needn’t sleep.
And so they stood there, as they did every night, their steel pose never wavered throughout.
They were given a bed, propped in the middle of the sullen room claimed to be theirs. It was untouched, because they chose not to use it, instead going out into the hallway before their quarters each dusk. The less they cared about where they slept, the more they would be truly hollow.
This area of the palace was cold, and their shaky breaths were visible in the air. The tight grip on their nail the same as their eyes remained open. They should not sleep-- they could not sleep. The covers of their comfortable bed looked so soft and inviting, but they stood stoic, and their eyes closed ever so slightly for moments at a time. They counted this as rest, only a few hours kept in the same pose.
But they were used to this; the hollow vessel. Unfeeling, unfaltering.
A hollow vessel needn’t eat.
They did not need to eat. But they were fed anyway, because “all things needed nourishment to survive”. Regardless of if they were only pellets; scraps of what the peasants who lived in the palace ate, they were hollow-- a Vessel. Why should they get the satisfaction of indulging in the voracious desire they faced almost daily? It was a challenge they themself should have to overcome.
Because that was what they were supposed to be, A vessel; unfeeling, unfaltering.
A hollow vessel needn’t yearn.
Hollow. That was what they were. The feeling of yearning to be guided and cared for by another (specifically that of a parent, but they did not allow themselves to think on that matter.) was not shared by this vessel. Of course not. They would not touch on this one further.
Hopefully the time where their presence was needed in the temple would be soon. They did not wish to dwell on such putrid thoughts.
A hollow vessel needn’t be led.
They were the first to enter The Black Egg. They knew where they were headed and needed no assistance from the king. He followed them anyway.
A hollow vessel needn’t complain.
The armor was rough against their shell, the chains that held them up in the temple shook subtly as they were elevated. But they did not lament about such.
A hollow vessel needn’t struggle.
Quiet apologies were spoken from where the cables were raised, hushed to a degree in which the one speaking must’ve thought the vessel didn’t hear him. They shouldn’t have heard him-- shouldn’t have listened and thought of a reply. They wanted to reply-- wanted to apologize to him.
They were not a hollow vessel. Hollow vessels did not yearn, nor want, nor cry, nor feel.
But it was too late now, and they did not have the voice to tell him. It would be too harsh of a burden to bring down on the both of them, but the vessel noticed that the king knew just as well as them that they were not fit for this.
The unspoken bond between them would be the downfall of the kingdom. And they were both guilty-- both had known.
They remained unvoiced as the king turned to leave the temple, uttering a quietened “ You were made for this. Do not disappoint me.” and left.
It was only the vessel and their unfamiliar chains left in the room, a cold silence surrounding their still body.
A hollow vessel needn’t speak.
A hollow vessel needn’t think.
A hollow vessel needn’t hope.
A hollow vessel …
As they dangled from the chains that held up their strong form, they couldn’t help but observe the temple they were being sustained in to be a bit dull, and let their mind begin to wander to pass the time. What was someone else to do in such a bland predicament?
They imagined the palace, and the lovely, bright white light that illuminated the area throughout the daytime. Roots and pale-hued flora lined various spots on the railings, blowing gently in the wind as small groups of royal retainers trotted by.
Hushed gasps and quieted whispers always rang out in the groups whenever they passed the vessel. They wondered why? It was no secret that there was a vessel among the bugs in the palace. Their welcoming was announced, was it not?
To add onto that, everyone around them seemed to admire the vessel; bowing down and kneeling before them whenever they sauntered throughout the halls. But… why? They did not deserve this praise. A hollow vessel needn’t desire affirmation.
Ah, they should add that onto the writings when they arrive back at the palace— Then they remembered that they would not be heading back.
Never mind that, then.
Continuing to envision and recall different areas throughout Hallownest, their mind began to feel tired. Not the usual feeling of repressed drowsiness, but instead a sudden racking heaviness that gripped tightly at their mind. Try as they might, they could not shake it.
It gradually got heavier, the thick hurt that clouded their head began to loosen the control they had over their body, as their gaze gradually started to flood with dim light.
Brighter, brighter, it did not stop. Opposing their own rules, they struggled against the brightness. Scratching rapidly against the chains that held them, the seal proved to be tight, and they began to panic.
Rapid breaths escaped their un-utilized maw, and they began to cough harshly against a sudden cramp in their throat, glowing orange sludge spitting out of their mouth onto the tiled ground. It burnt into the floor, steam rising to meet the vessel’s eyes.
They felt like they were sinking, the light growing more intense as orange ooze came rushing out their throat.
They thrashed in their armor, the noise of their chains rattling echoed throughout the temple, and the sound reflected back louder, splitting and screeching into their hearing. The pain heaving onto their poor body would not let off, erecting cracks and splits through their aching chitin.
It hurt-- It hurt so badly, but they could do nothing but endure the throbbing pain shooting through them. They tried to cry out against the orange sludge slipping through their shell, the wail that came out was barely anything above a whisper.
Searing torment continued to grip at their loosening mind, and their eyes gave out. Bright orange spat rapidly out the holes in their mask, covering their vision completely as it brought their view into the bright light that awaited them.
They could do nothing, nothing but screech and thrash against the splitting hurt and blinding light that met their eyes. It was like this for a few moments, before the beaming radiation parted to reveal a figure they could not identify.
It turned to them, it’s eyes a glaring yellow.
A hollow vessel needn’t dream.
But… to dream… It would be a pleasant experience, would it not?