Chapter Text
—Hollow…the–that encroaching space where things stop mattering. Where will is carved away; not nothingness, close—He was supposed to be hollow. Empty. Devoid of anything that mattered.
Yet…here he is. At the edge of a tattered cliff staring forth at a desolate bundle of homes. Far away, he spots lights illuminating little bugs meandering about the deserted city-scape. “...hmmm,” wind slipped through his cloak, sending soft hums careening through the air. Then he looked away, flicking his eyes across everything else—endless darkness just out of sight from the lack of light.
So the Knight looked down, at the ground far beneath him. The descent—he stepped, falling forward, letting gravity tug him down. He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the might of the—then he twisted in the air, landing and shaking the ground.
Instantly, the light that once sparkled the small city turned dim. Doors were closed, and lamps were put out. The Knight stared, standing up, and setting his nail beneath his cloak. He did not walk immediately, instead he chose to stand still, staring forth…had they seen him? Heard him, yes, that much was certain, but perhaps they hadn't seen him.
“Hmmmm,” once more, the wind rushed along the recesses of his cloak.
He looked to the left: darkness. He looked to the right: darkness. So, the Knight walked. His footsteps were soft little sputters, barely heard over the passing air. “Ah,” he paused, eyes widening as he spotted a still taller bug standing just outside a house beneath a lamp. Amidst the sprawling bundle of homes, he spots only a bug left out beneath the street lamp.
The Knight looks around once more, but he settles on heading towards the tall bug. Yet, that does not stop his eyes from lingering…small dribblets of orange infection can be spotted in deep crevices, hiding from the light.
Though his focus remained on the sprawling city—bettles hid away in their homes.
…he walked, getting ever-closer to the lone beetle. “Ah,” the beetle mumbled, looking over with curious eyes. He looked down at the Knight. “...” He glanced, flicking his eyes across the short Knight. “Another—” He said with wisdom flowing in his words. “—traveller?” He mumbled, squinting.
The Big hummed, nodding. “It matters not, I guess.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Hello there, Traveller. I'm afraid you've scared my city-mates,” he spoke through soft chortles. “Left only I to offer welcome. Our town’s already fallen quiet, you see.” He signaled to the desolate city. “Many other residents, they've all disappeared.” He mumbled, “again, I fail to see why that matters.”
The Knight stared. “Worry less, I've been titled the Elderbug, Oldest in Dirtmouth.” He said it pridefully. “I—”
And then the Knight looked past him, as if he thought about ignoring the bug, and leaving him behind. The Elderbug frowned, moving to step in the Knight’s way. “Little Adventurer…do you intend to wander amongst the Forgotten Crossroads?” Elderbug shook his head, stepping out of the way. “Our residents left down there to follow their dreams—do reconsider…dreams are not as great as—”
“Did they die?” Suddenly, the Knight spoke, looking up at Elderbug. The beefy beetle frowned, unsure if the man the short traveller intended on mocking him. “Your residents, are they dead?” The Elderbug smiled, relieved; genuine curiosity—that much was certain.
“Not necessarily.” The bug chimed, “I've friends who slip between the cracks and visit…but most, yes. Infected or dead, much in the same. If you'd like to mingle in the ruins below, do recognize that our residents flutter about. Infected, mindless, insane. Friends and family have turned mad; travellers, much like yourself, were robbed of their memories.”
—the Knight did not respond immediately. He stared at the bug, and then he leaned to the left, allowing his gaze to drift toward the mouth of the well. “Infected?” He questioned, frowning. “Mindless and insane.” The Knight tasted the words; they tasted like cool metal. “Okay—” He went to step past Elderbug.
But he was blocked. The Knight frowned, fingers aching to claw for his nail. “What?”
Elderbug chuckled, “throw your life away later—unto you, I implore you to settle. Find yourself a—”
“I can't die,” the Knight spoke, holding his anger close. The Bug did not know this. Elderbug chuckled once more, waving him off with melodic movements.
“Such might be true—but why take the chance?” He questioned, “settle for a while longer. Sit on a bench, and—” the Knight brushed past him…”...and…well, I will dream of your safety—” The Knight paused, glancing back at the Elderbug. The Elderbug smirked, knowing the traveller caught on with his words. “Dreams are not as great as they seem, but dreams might come true.”
The Knight turned around, heading towards the well’s entrance. “I will dream of your safety, Little Traveller—AH!” Elderbug yelled suddenly, the Knight looked back. “There is a Cartographer down there! His name is Cornifer; I am sure if you were to come across him, he'd have a map of whichever lands he resided in.” Elderbug chimed happily.