Chapter Text
Vessels—strange beings created by pale gods and then left to be hollowed out by the greatest emptiness. But life can not exist if there is nothing to fuel it. When the vessels hatched—countless multitudes of them—most did not live long, if they lived at all. Many eggs simply split open, revealing still forms with faded masks. Many vessels did survive the hatching, and even lived for a while, but under the lack of anything but their siblings and their siblings' corpses, their masks, too, faded as they fell still.
After an amount time which was not so long for mortal bugs, but an indeterminably long while for the vessels within the comforting embrace of the Void, a bright light shone down into the Abyss. Every surviving and newly-hatching vessel was drawn to the light, and they began attempting to ascend toward it. As Hallownest of old knew, only one vessel, one sacrifice, escaped the deep, black cavern. As the lonely spider princess knew hundreds of years later, slightly over a dozen could be found having escaped the Abyss. All dead, by beast, Infection, or her own hand.
The Pale god who had dropped his progeny into the Abyss reassured himself that every vessel would have been compelled to attempt the climb. He thus concluded that only the one that succeeded, had survived. (He resolutely ignored any twinge of thought related to his lost children. He'd made sure that they weren't actually children, after all. They were simply complex organic constructs created to follow equally complex orders.)
But there were a handful of vessels that really, truly escaped. Escaped the Abyss, but also Hallownest itself. But because the Pale god's influence ended at the borders of his kingdom, any bugs who left the kingdom lost all memory of the place. So that handful of vessels that left the kingdom were not inclined to come back. Not until the cry of a great, desperate plea, was sent out into the ether by one of their siblings. The sibling who had ascended from the Abyss and was made to imprison an angry goddess.
~~~<<->>~~~
Hickory had caught a glimpse of the being that looked like her back in the cliffs. Were they following the same pull as her? She followed at a distance, at first out of uncertainty, then caution. Without interacting with them, all she could tell was that they were quick to use their nail. She didn't want end up on the business end of it. She wasn't confident of her chances should they decide to attack her. So as she hung back, out of sight, and thought about continuing to follow them, Hickory thought of what led to her coming here.
She knew this place, Hallownest, was where she had come from, but it wasn't so much that she remembered. Some time after she escaped the Dark Place, though Hickory couldn't guess at how long, a shopkeeper had taken pity on her. The shopkeeper, Nyrno, had taught her how to read, and write, and communicate with her hands. Even now, so (unwillingly) distanced from the memories, she could feel the fondness in her past writings.
Time stood still in the ruins of this kingdom, but by Nyrno's reckoning, they'd taken care of Hickory for somewhere around a decade. But then the worst happened. Nyrno was struck by that same strange, orange sickness as those mindless husks that paced the caverns. They had sent her away shortly after. By her own words, Hickory had not wanted to leave, and Nyrno had all but commanded her to leave the ruined kingdom. So she had gone, and the only reason she knew any of this was because of the journals she carried with her.
Hickory wasn't sure how long she had wandered after that, too despondent to try to count the days. Leaving Hallownest had cruelly robbed her of the memories, but not the emotions they had instilled. Entries became sporadic, until... until Bolida and Glaucus. A married couple, moth and butterfly. Both, funnily enough, were yellow in coloration. Bolida had described herself as a Comet moth, and Glaucus, a Swallowtail butterfly. Regardless of how old she may actually be, they treated her as their child, and her life was all the richer for it. She had lived with them for about a decade and a half, and she loved them dearly
She'd never had a desire to leave, and that opinion still stood. However, she had been called back to this ruined kingdom. A scream rang out in the dark of the night, piercing her mind. Her reaction and the resultant crash of a lamp had drawn her adoptive parents to her in a panic. It had taken a while for Hickory to calm enough to try and explain what had woken her so violently. A sort of pull at her core remained even hours after the terrible cry had faded. It wasn't something she could ignore. So with the blessing and assistance of Bolida and Glaucus, Hickory set off into the wilds and wastes, in the direction of the pull.
It had taken her the better part of six months of travel for the pull to lessen, to become less insistent. It was night when the pull lessened noticeably. In the deep darkness, she could just about make out an even darker shape looming against the midnight curtain of the sky. The pull was still there, but as she gazed at the mountain rising up in the distance, something within told her she was close. Very close. She was still at least a day's travel away, but she knew that it must be her destination. Hickory had no idea what she would find, but it would likely be a while before she could return home. Especially if winds howling past the hills before her were any indication. Any flora stopped before the top of the hillsides, the wind tearing at the tops preventing anything from growing. Hickory was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to fight back through those winds on her own, but she had to continue. There was no other choice.
As soon as she had passed, or rather, been forcibly pushed through by, the gale force winds, something tried to steal her memories. It tried to pluck them right from her mind with little care for what she wanted. She did not let it. She had been robbed of precious memories once before, and she would not let it happen again. Not while she had the will to resist. She would have raged at the mysterious power, but she knew it would not respond. Not even if she'd had a voice with which to shout at it. The battle of wills left her utterly drained. She was just able to find a small, deserted crevice and prop up her key so it would fall and alert her if something approached, before she passed out. She dropped like a rock, and was spared the pain of smacking her face on the ground only by her unconsciousness.
When Hickory awoke, she looked to the sky to determine how long she'd been unconscious. But the sky was obscured. For a moment, she thought it was dense blanket of clouds. But after staring for a few moments, she realized that it wasn't clouds, but a cavern roof far above. Oh, this was one of those places. Completely underground. If any bugs resided here, they might never have seen a bird. What an odd idea. It was at that point that Hickory had caught sight of the figure that looked vaguely like her.
~~~<<->>~~~
The strangely-familiar being threw themself off the cliff edge to get to the little town below. Thus Hickory had to believe that they must not have any wings. If that was strange, she really would have no idea. She, herself, did possess wings, but they had been given to her.
A few years after Bolida and Glaucus had taken her in, Hickory had wished with everything in her, to be able to fly with the bugs who had become her adoptive parents. Then one morning, as she watched Bolida tending to the plants that grew on the roof of their home, a flash of red had caught Hickory's gaze. An immature fire crawlid. A pest to plants at best, and the source of a painful sting at worst. It wouldn't have been a big concern, had Bolida not been particularly sensitive to said stings. Hickory had leapt toward the critter in an attempt to swat it away. She jumped in its direction, swiping at it, but she came up short—curse her small stature—then began to fall. Now, such a short fall was unlikely to injure her, but she had tilted in the air and was fixing to land smack on her face.
When she'd flailed in a useless attempt to stop from face-planting, a pair of shimmering, ethereal wings had appeared upon her back. She'd instinctively flapped them once and her descent had halted. (Later, she would realize she'd forgotten about the crawlid, but thankfully it had been too interested in it meal to get too close to Bolida.)
Hickory's wings faintly glowed, and were largely translucent. Still, if one looked past the whitish glow, they would be able to make out the yellow that matched her parents' wings, decorated with a pretty violet. As for the shape, they looked a bit like a mix between butterfly and moth. Their general shape was a little more butterfly, but the fluffy edges were a bit more moth-like. Every time she saw them, she found comfort in the reminder of her parents. (It had not taken Glaucus and Bolida long to come to the conclusion that the Lover Gods had blessed their adoptive child, bestowing the wings upon her. They'd made sure to thank the gods with an offering of the best fruits from their garden. It was always best to stay in the good graces of deities, even ones that were generally kind.)
Hickory watched as the oddly-familiar figure approach the town. For once, she could see find out in advance how bugs might react to an individual such as herself. She could never be sure what reaction her presence would ilicit. Despite not being aposematic in coloring or intimidating in size, something about her put many bugs off. She'd long since grown used to it, unfortunately. Ass much as she did not like it, she could make some guesses as to what made them uncomfortable. While her face resembled the masks some bugs wore, it only took a second look for them to realize the truth of her visage. Most bugs who did not have to, did not suffer her presence past this realization. Those whose profession demanded cordiality of them, would put up with her strangeness for the course of the transaction. Grubs and young bugs hid dnot tend to share the opinion, though, not yet having been taught that "other" equated to "bad". Though there only seemed to be a single bug in small town, said bug did not seem to react poorly to the being like her. Still, she remained wary.
It was... a little less quick for Hickory to reach the town. Because she floated down, rather than simply dropping. Falling may not hurt her, but that didn't mean she enjoyed the sensation that wavered up through her body upon a hard impact. She made sure to take her time getting down, watching the pale, horned figure disappear down the well. Hopefully they still hadn't noticed her. When she reached the small gathering of buildings, only one bug seemed to be there. Hmm. A little odd, but maybe any other bugs were asleep in their homes. Hesitantly approaching the single visible bug, Hickory held back her flinch when the bug immediately noticed her.
"Oh, another traveler! I'm afraid it's only me left to welcome you," the hunched bug said. "Say, you look a bit similar to the other traveler, are you two together? I'm afraid you missed them, they went down the well over there."
Hickory tilted her head at the revelation that there was only this singular bug. She shook her head in response to the question.
The bug gave a little gasp. "Ah, it seems I forgot to introduce myself! I am Elderbug, though with no one else around, I suppose I could just be 'bug'." The now-identified Elderbug gave a little chuckle.
*Do you know hand-signs?* Hickory signed.
Elderbug watched her hands move, head tilted. After a moment, he spoke. "I'm afraid I've long since forgotten how to speak with hands, traveler. I haven't needed to in many years. My apologies, traveler."
Hickory shook her head, hoping Elderbug understood that it was okay. Crouching, she wrote her name in the dirt. (She made it a little larger than she normally would have, unsure of the bug's vision.)
Elderbug tilted his head again. "H-i-c-k—Ah, Hickory, is that your name?"
Hickory looked up and nodded, before standing and brushing the dirt off on her cloak.
"It's nice to meet you, Hickory. You know, the other traveler seemed just as silent as you. Though they just listened to me ramble, sat on the bench for a moment, and left." Elderbug paused for a moment, gazing at her. "What brings you to this humble town? Do you seek something in those dreadful ruins below?"
Hickory brought a hand to her face, where a mouth would've been, and tilted her head. (She may not be a normal bug, but body language was still body language.) Then she shook her head in the negative. She didn't want to go down there, at least not yet. Elderbug brightened from the resigned air he'd gained.
"Well then, if you're planning on staying, please feel free to choose a house! That," Elderbug pointed to a small house, "is my home, and that locked building right there used to be the Stag Station. Our shopkeeper lives in that home; a new couple that recently came to town are setting up a shop in that house, there; and a young lass named Bretta lives in the house just over there." Elderbug pointed to each building in turn. "Other than those, please feel free to choose any house you'd like!"
Hickory nodded and curtsied in thanks. It elicited a warm, pleased chuckle from Elderbug. With another nod, Hickory turned away from the bench to look further into town.
Hickory took a few minutes to stroll through what was left of the town. The houses were all in various states of furnished, and she picked one just out of sight of the bench. The house she picked had the important things, like a bed and a bookshelf and some shelves. The kitchen was in disrepair, but even after sweeping and dusting for quite a while, she found that she didn't feel hungry or tired at all. This place just kept getting stranger and stranger. Those strange tablets that glowed at her approach, the lack of bugs, and the odd hostility of the wildlife.
Setting aside the broom she'd found, Hickory put her hands on her hips and eyed her work critically. Not perfect, but certainly livable, at least for a while. She wasn't sure how long she would be here, but if it turned out to be a longer stay, she could do more. Looking to the bookshelf, her head tilted in consideration. Should she...? She titled her head side to side, silently hemming and hawing. Hickory moved to the dining table, where she'd put some paper and ink she'd found while cleaning. She pulled out her quill and started to write.
Elderbug, I have chosen this house. (She drew a simple map depicting where it was in relation to the bench.)
I'm leaving some of my journals on the bookshelf inside. Anyone is welcome to read them, as long as they put them back. The journals are numbered, and I'll leave some paper on the table, so if anyone who borrows one could just write which one they borrowed, that would be nice.
Reaching beneath her cloak, Hickory stuck her hand into her body, rummaging for a moment before pulling out one, then two, then a dozen journals. She didn't bring out the oldest ones, which recounted her time withing Hallownest. She didn't think Elderbug would care that she had come from the ruined kingdom below, but better safe then sorry. Besides, the older journals weren't the sturdiest after so many years of being handled. The things she stored in the strange, limitless void of her form didn't get damaged, but she'd pulled these out and handled them more times than she could count.
After putting the last of the journals she intended to leave here on the bookshelf, Hickory glanced at her pocket watch. The face indicated that it had been a whole day since she'd first arrived in Dirtmouth. Closing the timepiece carefully, she stowed it away. She glanced once more around the small home, shifting from foot to foot, frustratingly restless. Slumping, she admitted to herself that the force pulling her toward the ruins hadn't gone away. She couldn't just stay here and wait for something to happen. That wasn't in her nature, anyway. With one last look the the journals on the shelf, Hickory nodded decisively. Turning, she strode out the door, note in hand.
Hickory used her key to tap the chain hanging down into the well. What kind of well led down into a kingdom? Wells were for water, who had designed this? Or was it that someone up here had tried to dig for water, and had ended up breaking into the ruins below? Either way, it was nonsense. With a glance back at Elderbug, who was all but pouting before he turned away, Hickory jumped down into the well.
