Work Text:
Lurien stood in front of the gigantic body of the wyrm, a suite of bugs, all in ceremony clothing, ready to welcome the glorious new form of their god. Still, in their appearance, as well as the watcher’s, one could easily see that something was wrong. Instead of having a straight, respectful pose, the bugs of the welcoming party were hunched over, some sat on the ground, other used their standards as canes. In their eyes, instead of the awe filled anticipation one could have awaited, there was fatigue, and worry. Their armor was not so shining now, their glow dimmed by the dust and ashes. A more inquisitive observer would even notice some of them were feeling ill, their eyes, unfocused, trying to walk away from the group with hands on their chest. This was not so surprising, considering the smell of rot that had begun emanating from the now silent body.
Only the watcher stood straight, apparently unphased by the sickly stench that came from the creature’s gaping mouth.
Behind him, Monomon the teacher was floating. Though her appearance hardly allowed for an external display of emotions (the teacher lacked a face, and still, her mind was solid and unchanging, a mystery for most.) Yet, Lurien had known her for quite a time, now, and the way her tentacles twitched, the unsteady aspect of her levitation were enough for him to assess her discomfort. Her voice, too, strange mix of telepathy and bubbles, betrayed her concern.
“It’s been four days already. Did you stay here all this time?”
He did not turn towards her, instead, he just stared at the immense corpse.
“I did.”
“It said its new body was ready, that it only needed to transfer its powers and its consciousness in it. Why is it taking so long?”
He still gazed at the obscurity within the corpse. He had been doing so for so long that he often imagined glows that were not there. The watcher did not try to hide his impatience.
“I have no idea.”
A pause. The teacher floated closer.
“Do you think we should go and check?”
The watcher frowned.
“You’re talking about entering the body of a god. Even if it’s dead, now, it stills holds the sacred power that hallowed these lands. I fear this would be a sacrilege.”
There was some irritation in the way the scientist’s tentacles twitched.
“You speak of sacrilege, watcher, and you stay there while something could have gone wrong. Maybe the rebirth has already taken place, but it needs our help to get out. It has been too long already. I have a bad feeling about this. The wyrm has forsaken the freedom and power granted by its mighty body all for our sake. If we did not help it while it needs us, we shall prove unworthy of such a sacrifice.”
The watcher lowered his head.
“With such an argument, teacher, I cannot contend. Let us enter the god’s corpse.”
Both of them, with slow steps, approached the body. They could not help but flinch at the smell of death and decay that was coming from it already. Still, they continued, at a solemn pace. Lurien felt like he had to delay the discovery of what was inside. He wanted to know, but his hope flickered as he advanced. He had no idea of what he would discover in there. He was afraid.
Suddenly, both of them stopped. The lumafly in their lamp moved around, shadows danced on the organic walls in an eerie way. The watcher’s three eyes widened. He felt his knees were about to give out. Meanwhile, the teacher floated, she was uncannily calm, silent, almost unmoving.
In front of them, still encompassed in repulsive flesh, there was the cracked shell of a pale egg. The shell was still dripping with transparent fluids that dropped from it, slowly, suggesting both life and death. These fluids, still emitting flickers of soul, formed a fine, whitish trail that got from the egg to the body of the creature at their feet.
Lurien was about to throw up. Still, he knelt beside the creature, one that was not really a bug, but something else that tried to mimic the appearance of a bug, while failing in a spectacular, if disturbingly beautiful way. It was tiny. From the size of the egg, he expected it to be small, but this… It had the size of a grub, or at least, of a small child. The creature had bug wings and horns made of bug’s shell, but instead of an exoskeleton, it had kept the white scales of the wyrm. It was too still, and no sound came from it. The watcher extended a tentative hand and touched the creature. However, he recoiled almost immediately. The body was cold and rigid. The short contact had left Lurien in despaired awe in front of the still, permeating, devastating impression of death.
The teacher’s voice resounded behind him, devoid of any emotion.
“So it failed.”
He did not answer. He felt both empty and too full at the same time, and something heavy was weighting on his stomach. He swallowed. It was hard to breathe, but his eyes were dry. Without a word, he leant down and took the small corpse in his arms, revealing the pool of pale blood that had formed under it. He clenched his mandibles. There was something wrong about all of this, something that was horribly wrong and made him want to shiver, to run away and to stay still. It felt like holding the dead body of a child.
They both walked of the corpse silently.
The bugs of the suite looked at them in disbelief, but they did not stop for them. Instead, they walked in complete silence towards the resting grounds. They walked behind the tombs, to a quiet, empty place that was surrounded with flowers of a light blue. The watcher, still completely silent, laid the corpse on the moss and began to dig. His fingers were not meant to dig. The earth was too hard for their delicate build, and soon, both of his hands were bleeding. He did not care. He kept digging until the hole was deep enough, then put the small body in it. The watcher swallowed. It looked as if it was asleep.
He plucked two of the flowers and put it on the corpse, before putting back the earth. The teacher watched. She did not utter a word. He finished the hasty burial and stood. There was blood on his fingers and his cloak was dirty, full of earth. The two of them stared at the patch of earth for long minutes, before they turned away. The watcher walked in the direction of the cave where they had begun building a city, wondering if all these efforts meant anything at all.
A lone moth with brown wings watched them as they left the resting grounds. On her features, a knowing look.