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After the dust has settled, Hornet and Hollow have a sparring match — like in the old days when the former was young and still learning.
With the Radiance dead, Ghost having ascended, and the kingdom having been rendered godless and needing to be rebuilt from the ground up (or, in this case, the ground down), there is not much time left for family or indulgence. Ghost is still learning to control their newfound divinity, so diplomacy and authority are left to Hornet. Despite being a princess, the title is in name only, and she has no experience in such things — not to mention her social skills, which are abysmal at best. It’s a learning process, but she’s trying.
Hollow, on the other hand, has nothing to do save for the occasional bout of manual labor. They are considered fragile by the others, despite their considerable size, due to their troubled past and damaged body. Despite their attempts to communicate that they can help, it seems that everyone wants to give them time and space that they feel they don’t need.
(Then again, emotion is new to them. They have never truly been allowed to feel, and there are days where they feel some manner of sentiment that they cannot properly describe through words, and thus remain isolated in their inner turmoil. No one can name what they feel in those frequent moments, so they don’t bother to describe it whenever it rears its ugly head.)
But there are rare moments where the two of them can connect, and it’s always through a language that everyone speaks — violence. Whether it’s clearing out pests, trimming bushes (which Hollow is no longer allowed to do, since their precision rotted away with their arm), or sparring as they’re doing now, this is where they are truly in tune with one another.
Blades clashing, swinging in clean arcs and parrying strikes, dodges and landed hits and the occasional impact of mask against mask, they perform a deadly dance until the inevitable loss of one or the other. But they have only just begun, and each has energy to spare.
Everything comes to a screeching halt, however, when Hornet leaps into the air in a smooth twisting motion and summons forth those lethal threads of hers. Hollow has only ever seen them from a distance, and they underestimate the ethereal glow they give off, so similar — no, identical to the gleam of a father long gone —
On instinct, Hollow drops to the ground, settling on one knee and clutching the handle of their nail, just like they would before, expecting orders or neglect or something they haven’t experienced in a long, long time.
And Hornet freezes. Drops to the ground, on her feet this time, threads falling to the dirt and losing their shine. Hollow doesn’t look up for a few moments, mind in the past and posture habitually submissive. When they do lift their gaze, coming back to the moment at an agonizingly slow pace as if dragging their thoughts through thick mud, Hornet stares at them with a look of confused horror, as if wondering what she’d done to warrant such a sudden surrender.
Hollow forces themselves to their feet, trying not to think of how similar in height she is to their shared parent, looking away from her and fighting a sudden urge to flee. To hide, return to the darkness from which they came and pray it would accept them, tarnished and claimed twice over by light as they are. But they remain in place, unsure of how to explain this.
Nothing is said in the end. Hornet simply picks up one of the limp, dull threads, staring down at it and wondering how it had caused Hollow’s reversion, only noticing Hollow’s attempted departure when their trembling legs buckle beneath them.
She rushes to them, asking questions and trying to understand something she could never comprehend. They can’t respond; arm pinned between the both of them as their grip on their nail falters and then fails entirely. Metal thuds against hardened dirt, ignored by both as communication fails once more.
That unknown emotion rushes through them again. This time, a word from the past floats to the front of their mind; one of the many things their father was never able to tolerate:
Humiliation.