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The vessel’s shade got absorbed into the abandoned shell it could recognize as its own. Well, as nicely as it possibly could, considering the mask was fractured and the void within was slowly leaking out again. But it would do for now, at least until it could manage to Focus enough to mend the cracks.
The truth was, it had no idea how it was even possible to do that in the first place. It shouldn't be able to, but somehow, through something no short of a miracle, it could achieve it. ‘Permission…’ the shadows whispered, as if through both memory and present, ‘…allowed.’ It was through haze the words had come to it, through the same blur as the world around it and its past remembrance.
But it knew something had changed recently, something that allowed it to perform the feat and be free of its home’s dark embrace.
A part of it couldn't understand why it would want to leave the Abyss again. Why did it hope? What did one such as itself have to wish for? The one in red had been clear: its death was the best thing to happen in its existence. Why would she be wrong?
In truth, it didn't know why it wanted to try again. But it had a feeling that maybe, just maybe, things could be better now. Something had changed, after all.
Impossibles become possible aside, the hardest part proved to be locating its shell. Its memory of the days it had been alive and the one it died were vague and blurred from all the ages spent in the Abyss as a part of the void, especially so without the mask to retain its self, if such a thing could exist. It did, however, remember the green. There was so much green where it had died. It was but another place it had stumbled upon during its aimless wandering but it was the only of those brimming with this color and it remembered thinking it beautiful.
It was after what felt like another age that it managed to find itself back to that green place and be whole again, even partly broken as it was from the encounter with the red beast.
The first thing it registered was the pain. The vessel, having forgotten what it meant to be alive, gasped from the shock of it overflowing its every sense, settling upon it like a rock about to crush it. Its body was battered from multiple wounds. Its head hurt so, so much, a splitting pain coursing along its mask’s cracks. Its vision was a blur, the world fading in and out of focus, its limbs were both sore and numbed at the same time, so that it could barely think to move. It almost started to regret ever bothering.
It also felt something odd, faint in the background of its aching shell, but it was a new feeling. It didn't know how to describe this heaviness on its body except to call it weakness, but it felt… like it wanted to just sit down and ignore the world around it. For a long time, preferably. As it was, it felt about to collapse from its feet.
That wouldn't do. It needed to be alert in case of danger and lying on the ground would make it too easy to pass out, as appealing as that thought seemed. And so, it located a large bush nearby, overgrown with leaves and moss, and crawled its way there to slump down under it, resting its head on its arms, breathing slowly to anchor itself through the passage of time, trying to focus on anything but the pain. Idly, it noted the disturbing lack of the mothwing cloak’s familiar weight on its shoulders. Unfortunate, but it could eorry about that later.
It sat there uninterrupted for quite a while, until it suddenly heard a rustling sound, faint but certainly coming from nearby. The vessel went immediately alert. Its first instinct, naturally, was to run. Seeing as this wasn't currently possible, it reached for the nail it shouldn’t have and tried to at least stand, in a desperate hope of appearing threatening enough to ward off an intruder. Could… could it be the huntress again? Did she know it had come back and was returning to finish it off for good? It tried to stop its arms from shaking. How it wished it could have its cloak just now. How it wished it had even a little bit more energy to dash away.
A figure appeared from the bushes, a figure that was decidedly not the huntress. In fact, this newcomer looked much like the vessel itself. Yes, that one was taller, and its long horns were much different to its own. There was also the fact that half of its mask was missing and one could see the darkness churning inside it. But it was that same darkness, that void, and that imprint of soul it could sense within it that were unmistakable. This was a sibling.
Familiarity bloomed inside it, but it was quick to violently suppress it. The huntress was like it too, in some small way it couldn't pinpoint, but she was still more dangerous than even common beasts. The vessel could see the nail the other was using for balance and there were chances that one could even know what to do with it, unlike itself. At its current state, it didn't trust in its chances to win against any opponent, even if the broken one’s state, crouching and unbalanced on its feet as it was, was much worse than its own. It still had to be careful not to risk another death.
With trembling claws from both pain, weakness and terror, it gripped its nail tighter and widened its stance. Maybe it could somehow scare it off. Maybe this one also didn't want to fight.
The taller vessel seemed to flinch, but it didn't make a step further. It stared at the outstretched nail and the one holding it, standing completely still. So, the vessel stared back. Both stood there waiting for the other to act first, so much so that it started to contemplate leaving to find another bush to sit and let the intruder be.
Movement caught its eye as the newcomer shuffled a little on its feet, shuddering with its movements, before stepping towards it. It jumped, but it wasn't attacked. The other simply stumbled past it toward the large bush and proceeded to sit, slumped down, in much the same way the vessel itself had some moments before, if not for the way its horns had tangled with the leaves and vines. The vessel watched as the other tried to struggle against the foliage, but soon winced so hard, it went still.
It was hurting. It seemed like it should be obvious, but the realisation had not come until that moment. The still-standing vessel lowered its nail and could only stare.
It could leave. It could go and find another bush, if it wanted. In fact, every instinct it ever had screamed at it to go find a solitary place to rest. But that one feeling inside it from before persisted, and the vessel found itself wanting to lie under that bush, even as its spot was now occupied by another who it still wasn’t sure if it could trust.
Strangely, it felt it could sense the same thing in the other vessel too.
It decided to risk it, hesitantly taking the steps to reach the bush and sit underneath next to the taller one, who merely glanced at it, then carefully turned its back around, leaving it alone in peace. The vessel decided it had to be safe, since that thought was much better than all the alternatives.
At some point, it tried to adjust its sitting to put less pressure on its aching legs. The sudden movement, and the sharp flash of pain that followed, made it flinch and bump onto the other’s side. It froze. However, the broken vessel didn’t attack, even after the smaller one could see it stiffen at the contact. It looked at it and it looked back, though this time, none of them turned back around. Instead, the bigger one spread its arm in a move that left its side wide open and gave a tight nod.
The little vessel had never seen the gesture before but it knew, in the instinctive way the void could always know itself, that it wasn't dangerous. It also knew what to do. It inched closer to its sibling, leaning on its side and letting it wrap its arm around its shoulders.
There, among the leaves, where cloaks tangled and siblings lay together amidst the green, the vessel felt another thing it had never felt before and it once again couldn't begin to name. Something that made the pain more bearable, something that it could feel from its sibling too. This time, the shifting of void within its shell felt… oddly pleasant. It realized suddenly that it could name this feeling. For the first time in a life of hurt and fear, it felt something it could classify as “good.”
It felt safe.
It inched closer.