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Why?
My last thought as I fell to my death. I thought I was strong enough. I thought myself a powerful warrior, a true master of my shield.
I thought wrong.
Curse that colosseum.
Why?
Why am I… dreaming?
Another wretched colosseum, but the crowd is no longer those dimwitted fools, jeering and gawking. No, these spectators have masks of gold, and their shells are bandaged like those buried in the resting grounds. Then, crushed. And I’m gone again.
Why?
Why am I in pain?
I had failed as a fighter, and now I can’t even be dignified with a proper death?
The air was filled with the sweet smell of burned incense and delicate flowers. I slowly blinked awake, and the gray ceiling of this strange home came into focus. I groaned.
“Oh! Hello there! It’s good to see you’ve made it. I was beginning to worry I was too late.”
I turned to face my captor polishing a small vase on the chair next to my bedside. He was an older bug, with a mask as plain as his voice. The fool hadn’t even a nail to defend himself.
I jumped back to defend myself, reaching for my shield, only to find it missing from my side.
“Looking for your weapon? I’m afraid I left that back in the edge of the kingdom. A corpse doesn’t need a weapon after all.”
“I’m not a corpse,” I hissed back, although my throbbing headache demanded to be otherwise.
“Not now, but you certainly were close. That colosseum must have done a number on you.”
I sat back on the bed. “It… it really did. I wish I could say I was just as ruthless, but that would be deceitful. I am many things, but a liar is not one of them.”
“That’s very admirable of you, stranger.”
“Tiso.”
“Tiso? A respectable name. Mine is Quirrel.”
I nod in acknowledgement and look around at my new surroundings. The walls were as gray as the ceiling with various empty picture frames. The arch above the doorway to the bedroom was decorated with an intricate depiction of a beetle, and the lumifly lamps that decorated the room and the hallway beyond left the house had a layer of dust that made the entire house feel grimy.
“Why did you bring me here?” I finally asked.
“Mm,” he looked up from his work, “Well, I had recently… retired, we’ll say, and I thought I was not so far from death myself. I had wandered into this peaceful place to enjoy my last days. But it seems it’s not my time yet. So, now that the plague that had afflicted our home has vanished, I figured I could put to rest those who had fallen to it. I found you and thought you were dead, but while I was carrying you here, you stirred, and I figured I’d try my hand at healing for a change. It seems I was successful.”
I went to nod again, but the pain in my head overtook me, and I fell back onto the bed once again.
A few weeks later, I found myself helping Quirrel carry the body of a miner bug back to the Resting Grounds. Without my shield, I had nothing better to do than help this old bug with his ridiculous quest.
The past few weeks I had spent healing. Recovering from the edge of death was a very time consuming process, although I’m sure it was expedited by the foul concoction Quirrel made me drink.
It could have been worse, I suppose.
I could have been dead.
We had just finished the burial when the pale thing approached us. A pitiful creature; how it survived this long I will never know.
Quirrel seemed more excited to see the thing than I.
“Oh! Hello again, small traveler! It has been some time since we’ve seen each other!” he laughed, “I suppose the last time would have been by the lake, mm? I’m sorry for giving you such a scare. I assure you I’m feeling much better now; My companion has been quite helpful in my task.”
It turned to face me, its soulless eyes staring passed me.
“...I don’t want to talk about it.”
...It could be worse.
Before it left, it placed a flower on the fresh grave.
A very pretty flower.
I wonder where it got such a thing.
The pale thing stopped by more often after that, sometimes with the gendered creature as well. Occasionally they would bring new corpses, most notable, a rather large one with a cloth sack for a mask.
They both stuck around for some time after that.
The most interesting occasion, however, was when they brought the Hollow Knight itself with them.
Neither Quirrel nor I had ever seen them before, save the fountain in the city.
To say it was a shock would be an understatement, but it seemed to be mostly harmless; the bandage over its eye and shaky nature made it seem more like a flame about to burn out than the formidable foe from legends foretold.
Quirrel enjoyed the company.
I was… beginning to enjoy Quirrel.
From what I’ve gathered, he used to be a traveler of sorts, just like me, but unlike myself, he had accomplished what he set out to do.
He’s always so gentle with the corpses, and made sure to say something kind about each one before we laid it to rest.
I admired that about him.
I...admired him.
I fear I’ve become soft.
The pale thing...Ghost...introduced Quirrel and I to some friends of it- theirs. Artist fellows. Quirrel seemed familiar. Perhaps a shared past?
It’s not my business.
One of them- Sheo, he said his name was- apparently used to be some powerful nailmaster. The other was a very skilled nailsmith.
Such noble professions, brought down to such a frivolous thing as sculpting?
Still... they seemed happy.
I wondered if…
No.
I wouldn’t allow myself that hope.
I asked Quirrel to meet me by the lake today.
It’s one of his favorite spots. He says it makes him feel at peace.
I brought him something today- no easy feat without my shield, although it was, admittedly, far easier now that the sickness has absolved.
Still, I’m nervous. A new emotion to me.
I hope he likes flowers.