Chapter Text
Before anything else came to you, pain made itself known.
It dug around your cranium and latched its claws into your brain, throbbing behind your eyes, begging to be the sole object of your focus. It succeeded. For the first few moments of your consciousness, all you could do was writhe around on top of uncomfortable cloth sacks as your head imploded.
“Hush.” A strong yet quieted voice commanded.
You jolted upright, a mistake that became apparent as you pitched downward once more, hitting something metal with your head. A yelp escaped before you had the chance to stop it, your body contorting, trying to wiggle free of the pain.
“Do not bash your head into my needle.” The same voice reprimanded you for the accident. You didn’t have the mental capacity to respond and merely rolled over to squirm in a different position. “Calm yourself.”
The pain slowly dulled down into a pounding, but manageable headache. Slowly your senses came back. First, you could tell you weren’t on the ground, as you swayed back and forth gently on top of the cloth sacks. It was as if you were being carried. Bells rang nearby with each step that people surrounding you took. Something poked into your side from what you laid on, so you shifted away, only for your hand to touch cold steel bars.
Then you opened your eyes.
Perhaps it was the headache dulling your panic, but you took a moment to admire the metalwork and intricate design of the gilded cage, as it was quite beautiful. Kudos to the crafters involved.
After staring upwards for a few long moments, however, you looked over to your side.
Some… thing? Someone? Someone sat with a long pale mask tipped downwards, two large horns taking up quite a bit of space in the spherical cage. Their red cloak was the only piece of vibrancy in your eyesight, but even that was dulled.
Then they turned to you and your eyes met their black ones. The circles of abyss seemed to bore into your soul.
You swallowed, not breaking eye contact, and scooted away towards the edge of the cage.
Another person from outside of the cage made a grunt, presumably someone carrying your cage, and adjusted to the moving weight. You turned to look at them and–
That wasn’t normal.
They weren’t normal.
But it felt familiar at the same time.
And what did your “normal” even look like?
Several realizations slammed into you at that moment. One was a wave of nausea, because why not, why wouldn’t nausea join the pain party? Two, you were distinctly aware that their plump bodies and sticklike legs weren’t normal, but for some reason you couldn’t grasp an image of what normal looked like. Yet, this not-normal felt so familiar. It was as if you knew it should be normal, and you were used to looking at things like this, but it was unusual. As you looked down at your body, you finally saw that it felt just as strange-yet-familiar as the other creatures outside of your cage.
Your body was covered in fur, coating all of your limbs and torso, ending below your chin like a mane of sorts. Above that rested a bulky cloak, the cloth a thick and rough material. Between the weight of the cloth and the hood at your back, it gave a small comfort, one that you would receive only if you wore it for some time and grew used to its presence. At least you kept your hands, though your fingers were thin and frail. You raised them to get a good look, shifting your weight back to lean further on your hands.
You paused. Then you looked down at your hands. No, you were definitely leaning back on multiple limbs. Either you had two pairs of arms or you were tripping balls. You looked behind you to see what the answer was.
There was definitely another pair of arms attached to your back. Stretched out across the ground behind you were patterned wings, almost shimmering in the dim lighting.
Okay. Okay okay okay. You now have wings and two sets of arms. You are now identifiably in the body of a moth. That is… certainly something. Something…off (well, besides the extra appendages) that felt familiar at the same time. What was even happening to you?
A few more slow breaths later, you weren’t at terms with the realizations yet, and you realized that they would have to become a hurdle for later. Right now, you had to figure out who you were with and why.
“Who are you?” You asked the red-cloaked figure.
“I believe I should be asking you this, moth.” Their voice was identifiably feminine. She turned in her seat to face you better. “I know the power a name holds; I do not give mine without reason. You appeared in front of me, and moments later I was ambushed. I believe one of these fools injured your head.”
Head trauma would explain a lothy–the disorientation, the pain, and the distinct lack of memories. At least you remembered what a moth was. She didn’t seem to sense your panic yet, so perhaps you could pretend to know what the hell’s going on and play along. She certainly seemed strong and capable, and giving her any reason to believe you were crazy would not help either of you getting out of this situation.
“I don’t remember anything before this.” You admitted. At least that was truthful. The fog clouding your mind felt impenetrable, any memories slipping between your fingers, shards and fragments fading just as fast as they would appear. “Nothing of the ambush, or of my life. I wish I could tell you.”
“Odd.” She turned to look you over. Under her intense gaze, you felt a strange sort of feeling in your chest, and upon following it her voice rang out in your mind:
“A moth who reeks of the infection… yet there are no signs of sickness. I must remain cautious.”
What the hell was that? Did you just read her mind? She didn’t seem aware of it, and you surely wouldn’t want to face her wrath from an unwelcome, albeit accidental invasion of her privacy, so you decided to say nothing. Still, it put you on an anxious edge. The sensation of your fur standing on end wasn’t the most pleasant either. You bit your tongue and looked out of the cage at the dreary landscape.
For the most part, everything was a sandy brown or grey, unappealing brick walls and rocks filling the enclosed corridor. Nothing appeared to be a landmark where you could track your movement with.
You turned to see further on the path ahead. Some sort of land bridge crossed a great ravine.Once again it was rather unappealing to look at, so you didn’t, instead changing your focus to one of the little bell-staffed guards.
They looked like guards, at least. Clothed in white, with golden symbols covering their faces. Were they bugs, too?
“Psst.” You whispered to the nearest one, pressing your face against the cage bars. They didn’t falter, still facing forward and walking at the same pace. “Hey. Little dude. Where are you taking us?”
Nothing.
You sighed, slumping against the side of the cage, your dusty wings shifting with you and laying over your body like a blanket of sorts.
“Moth.” Your cellmate’s voice was lowered once more. She looked up towards the top of the cage, hunched over, almost in anticipation.
“Yeah?”
“Prepare yourself.”
“For wha–”
Strands of white exploded from her body. They weaved between the bars of the cage and wrapped onto the thin strip of land that made up the bridge. The guards reeled back, bells ringing in a panic as the ground crumbled underneath them, but it was far too late. The threads tightened and the bridge collapsed.
Then you all fell.
Down, further into the crevice, further into the pit. You screamed breathlessly as the chasm seemed to open further with impossible darkness as it swallowed you and the light. The other prisoner seemed almost unbothered as the cage hurtled toward all of your impending deaths. How did the other prisoner look so calm?!
You wrapped your arm around one of the metal poles of the cage’s lattice work, clinging onto something tangible, and wrenched your eyes shut. I don’t want to die! I don’t remember anything. I just want to go back to something I recognize, to go back home, wherever that even is!
Before you could feel the ground, however, you slipped out of consciousness.
***
You dreamt of a white void.
***
The first clue that you were still alive was the renewed headache.
The second was a repeated prodding at your side.
You groaned and blinked open your eyes, mumbling incoherent half-words in an attempt to get the poking to stop. Instead of the dim light from your previous location, this was bright, and you recoiled into the soft ground, away from the light.
Vibrant, lush greenery surrounded you and the red-cloaked prisoner. Pieces of sentient moss roamed along the walls, spikes protruding from their backs. Small veins of water dribbled into the room you laid in. It was a beautiful place, really.
The red cloaked prisoner prodded you with the rounded loop of her needle, checking to ensure that you were alive. She watched as you propped yourself up before she turned around.
“Where are we?” You asked, shifting forward to sit on your knees. It wasn’t all that uncomfortable with moss as padding, actually, the spongy plant probably being the only thing that cushioned your fall enough to survive. The cage laid bent on the ground nearby, some supplies and items that’d been below you scattered around the room. A large pile of now-squished moss rested below, which was likely what broke the fall.
She ignored your question, as it was clear neither of you knew where you were, and shifted an arm underneath her cloak as if holding her side while trying to be subtle. She turned back to you. “Can you stand?”
You pushed yourself up slowly and unsteadily. Somehow you managed. It felt like a muscle memory that you had no recollection of, managing to shift your weight to a comfortable stance. You realized that you must not have been able to stand since before you were captured. Your wings brushed your ankles but did not touch the ground. A few aches and pains made themselves known in your joints, but all in all, you were in pretty good condition for falling who-knows-how-far. “Yeah, I think I can move fine.”
“Then follow me.” Without another word, she turned on her feet and swiftly walked towards a series of ledges and vines.
You stayed still for a moment before catching up, having to jump and grab onto the corner of the ledges to pull yourself up. She didn’t exactly wait for you, as slashing the vines in her path took some time, but you were back by her side after a short while.
She glanced back at you once she finished and continued down the path.
“So.” You began, having to take quick steps to keep up with pace. A little caterpillar scooted around up ahead. She deemed it necessary to plunge her nail into it and flip in the air. Rude and a showoff. At least it didn’t kill the cute bugger. You simply hopped over the wounded bug and continued after her. “Since you almost killed us there, I think I have the right to know your name now.”
She eyed you warily before jumping to a ledge, lingering one moment for you to join her, then immediately jumped to the next. “I suppose it could do no harm to share my name, as we have been captured together. You may call me Hornet.”
“Cool name.” You commented briefly. A piece of rock loosened under your hand and you scrambled up the ledge. “And you don’t know why we were captured?”
“It is my intention to find out.” She watched as you struggled up the rock. “If you know my name, it is only fair that I know yours, moth.”
Your feet froze in place.
Surely you wouldn’t forget your name, would you? Yet, as you grasped for syllables or sounds that seemed familiar, any name you thought of rattled around in your head, empty and wrong.
A word did come to mind, but it was even less of a proper name than “Hornet” was, so you shook your head. “I can’t remember.”
She hummed and turned around to keep walking. After just three steps, however, she doubled over with a yelp.
You jolted, dropping to her side, hands hovering over her as you were unsure how to help. “What’s wrong, Hornet?”
She didn’t respond, staring blankly at the ground as she panted for breath. You counted the seconds. Five turned to thirty, which turned to a minute, then she blinked and stood upright as if nothing had happened.
“Let us continue.” She directed.
With that, the conversation died, and you followed her.
More time passed and more poor caterpillar grubs were used as springboards by her blade. The two of you took time examining a gate with a round door, six similar indents formed to look like eyes. She grew visibly melancholy at the sight of it, her head tipped downward towards the ground in thought, but moved on before you could ask.
She seemed to thrive in the silence. At least liking it more than when you tried to start up a conversation. So you gave up on the attempts. It was all you could do, as you were floundering even with the powerful hunter’s help.
The more the two of you walked, the more you grew used to your body, at least slightly. Everything was covered in a layer of fur, varying in length and softness. You found yourself idly picking at the parts around your neck and caught Hornet’s eyes on it a few times. You could also move your wings if you focused, but they were nicely tucked at your back and under your shawl, so you decided against it. Figuring out if you could fly or not was a task for a different day.
You watched as Hornet tore down the last remaining vines blocking the entrance to a black stone structure. The inside looked basic and old, a creaky stone bench sitting on the opposite side of the room. Hornet stepped forward, then gasped as another episode seemed to hit her.
This time you were faster and caught her before she could collapse, guiding her carefully to rest against you instead of the ground. She began to weakly push away from you, but a shudder of pain wracked her body and she did not fight you any further. Instead, she pointed towards the bench.
Understanding her gesture, you pulled her up and walked her to the bench, letting her plop down while you stood nearby. She sighed in relief, the episode seeming to have passed, as she set her needle across her lap.
“I believe that is the last lapse of weakness I will have.” She said, sounding like an assurance to herself more than you, but you nodded in agreement anyway.
You took a moment to look around, touching pieces of loose-hanging moss on the wall behind the bench as Hornet continued resting.
Her voice didn’t cause you to turn, as you were already growing used to it. Though, it did sound a bit muffled or distant. You just assumed she spoke into her cloak or the acoustics in the room were bad. “It is embarrassing to struggle with this weakness. I must hide any more of these episodes.”
“I don’t think it’s embarrassing.” You responded, pushing your hand into a spongy patch of green. “I mean, we fell down pretty far, and I was passed out for a while too.”
The room fell silent, the echo of your words fading into the stone walls.
You turned, an apology on your tongue, but found her standing with her needle pointed between your eyes.
“Explain to me how you knew my thoughts.” Hornet demanded.
Well, fuck.
“I didn’t know either?” You quickly responded, raising your hands in surrender. It ended up coming out as more of a question than a response, so you quickly backpedaled on your excuses, pressing your back to the moss-covered wall, and decided not to piss off the bug with a blade pointed at your face. “Okay! I did it by accident a while ago, before we fell. I promise that I don’t know how or why!”
She didn’t look convinced. Then again, you wouldn’t be convinced either if you were in her position.
“I swear that I can’t remember anything from before I woke up.” You answered with as much honesty in your voice as possible. “I have nothing to gain from juking you. Please, let me follow you until we’re out of this grotto, then you can leave to do whatever and we won’t cross paths again.”
After she stared at you for a tense while, she slowly lowered her blade, though she grew no less cautious of you. “You clearly bear no threat to me, moth. I suppose that as long as this remains true, you may follow me to the end of this path.”
“Thank you, Hornet.” You watched as she walked past and you sighed, relieved that she wouldn’t lead you to an untimely end. Though, did she have to add “clearly”?
She did not respond.
At least she waited for you when you struggled up the series of ledges. You watched as she cut down more vines, leading to another hallway with–you guessed it–more vines.
After the last was cut down, it revealed a square room, ceiling tiles crumbling and moss hanging from each piece. You started forward, but Hornet’s arm reached out and pulled you back.
The hallway became blocked off with a shunk, as the vines weaved themselves into a gate.
She muttered some curse under her breath, readying her needle, and turned to you. “If you can fight, then do so. And if you cannot, then stay out of my way.”
“Fight?” You echoed, already obeying and backing up to the corner.
You weren’t spared a response from her, rather, a large flying moss creature entering the arena answered it for you. It screeched and dashed towards Hornet with its stinger.
She read its attack and seemed to anticipate it, utilizing the same technique you had seen so many times with the caterpillars, using the creature as a springboard to vault over it, then turning around and slicing it while it was stunned.
It was like she turned the battle into a dance of sorts, one with a tangible rhythm. You couldn’t help but watch the red blur that was her move across the arena with grace.
The creature screeched once more and bashed its head into the ceiling. Rocks crumbled down and broke upon impact with the ground, all except one landing conveniently in front of you, which you quickly dove behind to hide. You made sure that you could keep an eye on the fight while staying obstructed from any stray attacks.
A voice sounded in your head, raspier than Hornet’s.
“Eat… grow… hide away…”
Was the voice… this strange moss bug’s thoughts?
You waited as you watched them fight, seeing if the bug’s thoughts would enter your mind once again, but it never did. Strange. You hadn’t even felt that sensation in your chest, or maybe you had, but just didn’t notice.
The read-cloaked hunter continued fighting with the large bug. It dove towards her once again, catching her as she touched the ground from a jump. There was no way to dodge it. She took the attack, using the momentum from getting hit to spin and stab through its body.
It roared in agony, reaching up towards the ceiling before crashing down to the ground with a dull thud.
The vines receded.
Hornet turned to you, brushing off a part of her cloak that had gotten soiled by the bug’s blood. “Were you harmed?”
“No.” You paused, then asked, “How did you know there would be a fight?”
Hornet tipped her head to the side in thought as she continued on the freed path. You followed. “It is a sense I’ve gained as a hunter, knowing when certain rooms are established as a challenge arena for some bugs to fight passerbys. Back where I am from, this is quite a common occurrence, and I have no doubt that this kingdom is similar in that regard.”
The way that she spoke was flowy almost, soothing to listen to. You nodded along as she explained, but didn’t have anything else to say, so you let the silence sit between the two of you.
She looked up a small overgrown shaft in the hallway, a beaded chain hanging down for climbable ease. Her thoughts seemed to be distracting her, so you gave her a moment to sort things out mentally, instead watching a little mossy grub scoot by a ways away. It was far enough away to avoid her carnage, at least.
It didn’t take long for her to snap out of it, a few seconds at most, and she spared a small glance at you, seemingly trying to gauge if you had listened in on her mind again, before beginning to climb up.
You followed, struggling slightly with finding proper footing, but managed to get out of the well and onto solid ground. As soon as you righted yourself, Hornet began moving forward. She never managed to go further than a few steps, however, and toppled to her knees.
Once again you managed to catch her, but this time she pushed back away from you and raised her needle towards the shadows of the room. You could make out a figure standing back a ways away.
Hornet choked out some word–probably a taunt or a swear–and promptly passed out.
The limpness of her body turned her into some sort of soggy noodle that you struggled to hold. After some adjustments you managed to find a more dignified position for her in your arms. You weren’t sure why you felt like that was the right choice rather than leaving her on the moss, but you didn’t question it.
“Um,” you began as you looked towards the figure in the shadows, “can you help us? We were captured and–”
“Oho! Captured, you say?” The figure stepped out of the shadows with what looked to be some caution, finally revealing herself. Oh. It was a small elderly-looking bug with cloth draped over her back. A large staff was utilized as a sort of cane. “By whom?”
“Some bugs with white veils.” You glanced down when Hornet stirred slightly, still out cold. At least you could try to get some answers from this old lady. She looked harmless, at least, but something deep in your gut didn’t sit right with her. “We were transported in a cage from… our kingdom. Where are we now?”
“The bugs of the Citadel, at the summit of our land, Pharloom. My, you must have done something to warrant their attention.” She tapped her cane on the ground in punctuation.
“Maybe.” You’d have to ask… my friend about it when she wakes. “So, should we seek out this Citadel?”
“That is your decision to make. However–” She whirled the cane and tapped Hornet’s horn. You swatted it away with an arm and covered the spot where it’d hit. “–allow an old bug to warn you: keep that needle of hers drawn. This land is a haunted one.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” You nodded. A strange feeling brushed over you, subtle but still present, the same sensation you felt before reading Hornet’s or the large mossy caterpillar’s minds.
“How curious… now, what are you doing poking in my head, little moth?”
You jolted, eyes growing wide, but the Chapel Maid did nothing to indicate that she’d caught you. Maybe… maybe you were just making things up though you could swear you saw the ghost of a smirk.
With an anxious clearing of your throat, you spoke again. “Is there a settlement nearby?”
“Why, yes! Though I don’t venture too far from this Chapel. It’s an old group of pilgrims.” She took a few steps away and gestured out of the door of the chapel with her cane. “Scuttled out of the darkness to climb the great path and bow at its gilded peak, they did.”
“Thank you.” You decided not to stick around any further. It took a bit of finesse that you barely had, but you managed to secure Hornet on your back and carry her needle in front of you. Even though you had no idea how to use it, the Chapel Maid’s words of warning did frighten you, and the fact that she might have been able to tell that you read her mind…
You shook it off and started down the path towards the supposed settlement.
In the distance, you noticed that the Chapel Maid was correct, and there did appear to be a small campsite. You gained a little pep in your step upon seeing it. Maybe there would be a safe space to place Hornet until she wakes up. She probably wouldn’t be very happy about you sticking around, but you couldn’t just leave her somewhere. As good of a hunter as she may be, she’s still passed out.
Clumps of moss faded into rock as you left the Moss Grotto. It was a sign that you were headed into a different environment, at least. You held the needle tighter in preparation.
Something dark green rushed by your head. You yelped, jumping back, and waved the needle wildly in front of you, connecting with something solid. The thing screeched and its body fell to the ground nearby.
Several other flying bugs flapped away, almost like birds, towards the top of a very steep chasm. Pieces of crumbling rocks and hanging cages littered the air above you.
Suddenly, your size in the kingdom of Pharloom was apparent.
You were just a tiny moth who couldn’t remember anything, who couldn’t fight, and could read minds. You were defenseless. You never should have been here to begin with. Something about your presence here felt wrong, yet…
… why did a part of you wish to linger?
It was an unfamiliar part–if anything could really be familiar without remembering it–but a large presence all the same. The feeling resided in your chest, in a similar location that the sensation was when you read minds.
You shook your head and continued walking. Before you could have an existential crisis, you had to find somewhere safe to put Hornet.
Between you and the settlement stood another roadblock: A crevice in the ground. Chunks of rocks littered your surroundings, suggesting that this was below where she had broken the bridge, but above your descent into the Moss Grotto. It was too wide for you to jump over, much less with Hornet on your back.
Thankfully, the hole wasn’t that wide, and you only had to walk for a few minutes before you found a space that you could safely walk across. The path to the settlement was clear now.
As you approached, a little bug dressed in dreary robes looked up at you. He sat in front of a small lantern filled with glowing flies.
You carefully deposited Hornet on a nearby bench, placing her needle next to her. Something kept you rooted to the spot, watching her for a few moments longer than necessary. She stirred slightly in her sleep, claws twitching every now and then. Oddly, the same feeling in your chest grew once again.
Following some unknown instinct, you reached forward, carefully placing a hand to where Hornet’s forehead was under her mask.
You were shot out of your body.
Instead of in the settlement, you stood in a dark room.
Hornet leaned her back against the wall, needle lowered to her side. Next to her grew orange vinelike plants, almost glowing. Something was so incredibly wrong about them. They felt sinister, sick almost. Yet familiar as well.
A screech sounded out. Hornet dashed from her spot, leaving you with only the option to follow her. She sprinted down a large hallway, orange fog swirling around your feet, and into a large room.
Two bugs similar to her fought. One held a nail as large as their own body, a fissure down the side of their mask, eyes and chest glowing the same putrid orange. They fought with another one, this time barely the size of the taller’s mask, small nail in hand and no orange to be found. A dark aura seemingly emanated from the little bug, sending a shiver down your spine. Surprisingly they were able to hold their own against the infected one.
Beside you, Hornet’s breathing was unsteady. You turned and saw that her hands were shaking. Who were they to her? Siblings? Friends? Whatever it was, they were important to her, and she was frozen, unable to intervene in the two bugs' deathly struggle for dominance.
It hit you at that point. This is a nightmare for her. A nightmare where she can do nothing to stop them.
What could you do to help her? There had to be something. If you can read minds and apparently see dreams, then surely you can change them. It would only make sense.
(None of it makes sense, but nonsensical things like this have patterns, and patterns make sense.)
You focused on a feeling in your gut, a tugging sensation not unlike pulling on a rope, following it to wherever it may lead. Your eyes squeezed shut in the process. Geez, you thought, I have no clue how this works, but I really hope I’m not screwing something up.
The sensation snapped and the world shifted around you.
You opened your eyes again to find a change of scenery. The larger bug who had the sickly glow sat hunched over themself, white cape splayed out on the ground around them, as they leaned forward. Hornet, dressed in similar white fabric, sat in front of them while reading a tablet. Her claw moved along the words as she read.
As you watched, a feeling of contentness washed over you, but not your own. It was Hornet’s.
This must be a happy memory for her.
Well, you managed to do something, at least.
You looked down at your hands. In your right palm, the one you’d touched Hornet’s forehead with, a dreamcatcher made of light floated.
Huh.
It faded away soon after you noticed it, but another appeared near your leg. Then a few more scattered around your torso. After just a few seconds, hundreds of dreamcatchers covered your form.
With that, you were placed back into your body.
You swayed on your feet, vertigo swirling around your head, and quickly sat down to minimize it. The little bug dressed in brown robes looked at you with an unreadable expression.
“Believe me,” you said when you were able to speak, “I wish I could explain what just happened as well.”
***
Hornet woke with a start.
She bolted upright into a seated position on an uncomfortable bench. Where was she? Had she gone back to the bench before the arena? No, this was unfamiliar. What happened while she was passed out? Had that figure in the shadows done something to her? Where–
The moth sat with their back to her, wings draped on the ground, facing a large silkfly lantern. They spoke with a little pilgrim deep into a story, judging by his body language.
Her needle also sat propped up against the bench made of bone.
She slid to the side of the bench closest to the pair speaking, breaking the little pilgrim’s string of words as she placed the needle across her lap with the tip close to his head. He swallowed hard, nerves visible in his eyes, a sharp contrast to how they seemed to physically light up at the sight of her wakeness.
“Oh, good, you woke up!” They leaned back on their lower pair of arms, seeming to be more relaxed. “I was starting to get worried that you wouldn’t. Did you have sweet dreams at least?”
“No.” Hornet lied. The image of her dream was fuzzy around the details, but she knew it was about her older sibling and it filled her with warmth. She hadn’t dreamt like that in ages. At least since dreaming of pleasant things came naturally, and when sleep was not a luxury. Before sleep became dangerous and before sweet dreams were replaced with nightmares. Nightmares of… She pushed away the thoughts. “Why are you still here, moth?”
“Well, Pilby here was telling me a great story.” They began, then faltered, seeming to understand her question. “I couldn’t just leave you on the bench or in the chapel with a stranger.”
… How odd they were. She’s proven several times how quickly she could sever this moth’s head from their body, and yet they decided to stay with her. Perhaps it was because she was strong. It was the only rational idea she could think of: the weak cling to the strong for survival. And as much as she didn’t like the idea of a travel companion weighing her down, she had her own curiosity to satiate and concerns to quell.
This moth was harmless, but the mindreading put her on edge, and if more moths than just the Seer in the Resting Grounds were alive, then she would need to get to the bottom of it.
Besides, as they’ve said before, they seemed harmless. And fluffy. She hated how much it put her at ease, thinking that this fluffy thing from a dying species was so innocent, solely because of their setae.
Focus on the task at hand, Hornet.
“Where are you to go now?” She asked, standing from the bench and stretching out her limbs. Pilby took a step away.
“Probably the Citadel. Pilby was talking about it earlier.” They stood, brushing off their hands, then turned to look down at the small bug. “I’ll leave with her now. Thanks for keeping me company.”
Hornet decided not to correct them on the fact that it was not their agreement. Clearly they were defenseless, and they knew what the Citadel was, which likely meant that they’d gained information from the shadowy figure or Pilby. It was a reluctant decision, however a necessary one, and she nodded. “Then I shall lead you to this Citadel. Come, moth, we have much ground to cover.”
“Right!” They quickly caught up to her and rejoined her side. “I spoke to the Chapel Maid while you were out, by the way. She warned you to keep your needle ready.”
So the Chapel Maid was the figure she’d seen. “You needn’t worry about that. I am always ready to strike.”
They nodded, then the two bugs lapsed into silence.
Hornet pushed her thoughts to the back of her head, instead focusing on her surroundings and remaining alert. She would think about it later, when they inevitably would be required to take a break and rest. The moth’s company would slow her down a considerable amount, but she was willing to make that time up in information.
Meanwhile, you were waiting until your luck would run dry, and when she would realize that you were a burden to be left behind, or that you had infiltrated the sanctuary of her dreams.