Chapter Text
The wind blew in heavily across the blue lake, coming from the cold atmosphere of forgotten crossroads. It was calming to some, eerie to others... Certainly more eerie now that the infection was haunting that place.
Quirrel just hoped that the sacrifice Monomon made, to be erased from history, would be enough. That the little ghost of Hallownest would cure the infection. They were certainly a strong little creature.
And yet, Quirrel had thought himself a strong creature until recently. A brave and spry bug that could cut through any infected foe that blocked his path or threatened the innocent. But now that Monomon's mask was no longer in his possession, he felt himself growing older.
It wasn't even that his body was particularly aged. He was an adult, yes, but he hadn't been gone from Hallownest for that long. And that was the most troubling thing. His body was perfectly fine, and yet he felt tired.
Weak.
And he had no good reason to feel that way.
He was a strong believer that the dead should not be bound to the world by their battles. That their weapons would be left behind. And yet, here he stood before the blue lake, questioning where he would go. Where he even deserved to go.
He had fulfilled his purpose well, yes? He had lived so much, and yet he remembered hardly any of it. Perhaps he should be grateful. So much explored, but whatever trauma he had encountered in the past erased.
He did know one thing. Pill bugs, not the kind that he himself was but rather the small and unintelligent kind that wandered outside of Hallownest, had gills. He did not. Neither did other pill bugs, as far as he was aware.
It was something that the wyrm, the pale king, had done... Quirrel did not know why, but he was certain of it. The wyrm had molded all of them, after all.
He took a step forwards and felt the cold blue water well up around his pointed feet, the wet sand below molding around them. He reached behind himself and placed his long nail in the sand behind him.
It was a good weapon. It had served him for many years, supposedly from back when he was a young student of Monomon. He didn't know this because he remembered receiving it, but rather because he had gotten very good at reading how old stone was. It was a fascinating study, something he could say about all of his other studies.
He hesitated for a moment, thinking about the things he'd learned. That thought crept back up on him, that he didn't know what was after death. It was jarring, perhaps even threatening. Would all the knowledge he knew of go to waste with him? Sunken beneath a great lake?
But something told him that backing down now would be... wrong. Cheating death, almost. He already felt like he was living off of borrowed time, his youth surviving longer than his own memories.
The water was up to Quirrel's head now. He'd gone swimming here a few times, and it felt just as peaceful now as it always did. He'd often wondered what it would feel like to drown. Would he slowly fade away, calm and peaceful?
...Or would his lungs burn and scream.
Some thoughts were better left unexplained. Even if he knew the true answer already, what with how much he believed in and studied sciences of all kinds. Even after losing his old memories, it had always been a fascination of his.
The water closed off over his head, and he let himself fall forwards. His feet left the sand, and he rolled himself over to face the surface as he let himself sink. The glow from moss on the walls above glistened on the surface of the water.
Quirrel closed his eyes, a few bubbles drifting from his half-opened mouth. Even if they weren't closed, any light from the surface above had begun to fade away regardless.
Suddenly, Quirrel felt a pair of hands grasp around his torso. He thought that it was the feeling of a peaceful death gripping at him before he was suddenly pulled upwards and broke the surface of the lake.
He let out a shuddering gasp, coughing loudly as he was inexplicably dragged up to the sandy shore. Now that he was no longer actively ebbing away, his lungs hurt.
A lot.
The pill bug managed to slowly open one eye, feeling water drip from beneath the plates of his shell. A pair of two dark gray feet were rested in the sand in front of him, but they quickly pranced out of his immediate view.
''For anyone watching or listening, I have just saved this poor little bug from drowning! No need to come down and thank me, or provide a towel'' A confident and loud male voice called out. There was a hint of arrogance to his tone.
''Such a shame, that so many bugs are deprived of the knowledge to swim... So foolish and vulnerable, unfit to be warriors. Such a horrible thought'' The male bug continued to spout off, pacing about the sand.
Quirrel tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled cough. As if he couldn't swim... He couldn't help but feel a bit upset that this bug had stopped his attempt. Although, deep down, perhaps a part of him was a bit... thankful.
As the bug that had ''saved'' him finally stopped pacing and stopped in front of him, Quirrel got a better look at his whole figure. He was wearing blue-gray metal armor from top to bottom, and a tall dark teal hood completely obscured his face. Two white eyes glowed from underneath the coat of shadows.
''I will take your hand now...'' The tall figure said, doing just that and grabbing Quirrel's hand, pulling him to a shaky stand before continuing. ''...and I will bring you with me to a safer land, where you can't slip and fall on these shells and driftwood.''
Slip and fall... It seemed that the figure truly did believe that Quirrel had been sinking to the bottom of the blue lake purely by accident. Regardless, his legs were shaking under him, so he had no choice but to be dragged along.
His attempt at his own life disappeared behind a stone wall as he was dragged away from the lake.