[Solo] [Age Rating: All Ages] [Synopsis: Clive considers her feelings as she makes her way after meeting @hallowed-hollow.bsky.social, with intent to find @bellhearted.bsky.social . She meets with Eira the Bell Beast for the first time.] [Link: themidgardlibrary.neocities.org/clivebellbeast ]

// I don’t think it’s physically possible for me to write Normally for this miserable creature. It’s either emotional introspective flowery prose or nothing. There’s no in between (sorry)

// I will (probably) not actually do this, but for a couple days now I’ve been thinking a lot about Grimm and what an account for him would look like….. Or what if instead it’s the grown up version of the one the Knight inadvertently raised

// I feel like the nagging sense of Wrong I get whenever I remember I mistakenly implied Hallow never met/doesn’t remember the Knight is true to how Hallow itself probably feels about the time shenanigans I’ve recently decided are in fact very canon to it

It totters, bent and battered, nail held loose in its metal hand and dragging behind it. Since the Infection, the would-be pure vessel has always had a lower tolerance for pain, often leaving it stunned and staggered. Several times now it has had to shake itself back into moving.

// You know I’m in deep when these bugs got me writing a short snippet about their yet-to-even-happen reunion relevant to a mini story arc happening in a thread here

// Sometimes you just have to put your miserable creature in a cool place you randomly thought of and call it a day. I'd like to think it's as impulsive as the Knight and just smacks anything of interest when it's out exploring. And it's absolutely keeping those crystals for no reason in particular

It has wandered itself to the far reaches of the kingdom, if not somewhere else beyond. The vessel stands among wind-swept sands, nail limp in its metal hold, in the shadow of some colossal unknown beast's remains; armour-clad bones pseudomorphosed into quartz-scattered spires.

a spark of rebellion still burns inside that husk , i see

// Time shenanigans were considered for both my bugs at one point. For Hollow it would’ve been “actually fought the Knight in the basic ending, but time rewound to enable a better ending”, referencing game mechanics. I still vaguely play it this way; it has the self-impalement scars either way.

// Had to draw their reunion after Hornet gets back from Pharloom

// Replies will likely pick up regular speed again once I’ve finished Silksong (generously gifted and I’m still crying about it), but until then the urge to make a Hornet account as the canon counterpart to this one is steadily rising. I love her. She can join the swarm of other hornets here (fond)

// Browsing the wiki for the millionth time and finding this little tidbit under cut-content. This is fine. I'm fine. (screaming)

// Let’s get this rolling

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ─── It's not fair! I'm tired of these games, I'm tired of wishing. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

// I want Silksong so bad for the probable emotional damage, lore, and inspiration for new locations to place my miserable creature. Unfortunately, (tiny moths fly out of open wallet)

It wants. It does not know what it wants, or that it even does. It does not know how to compartmentalise this bizarre sense of malaise, or that this feeling has a name, or that it is even real.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ─── x The roaring beast that awaits you, hungry for battle. Hungry for you. x ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

// I would apologise for writing things so dramatically, but this character has been haunting me for days so I'm making it everyone else's problem too

Embedded in the remains of a failed tramway, it finds a small speaker. From it plays a slow tune, tinny and garbled from age. In its hands the vessel cradles its lantern; the only source of light here, the shadow of its hunched form is cast heavy against the crooked wall behind it.

For hours, it has stood seemingly vacant in the remnants of a broken city, shaded by crumbling relics and bent lamps. On occasion, it paces slowly, its heavy steps dampened by pools of rainwater. It is disquieted. Again rooted in place, it lurches and bows as if struck, stare fixed on the ground.

// Ominously looming gang 🤝

// All the HK writers sharing the ‘it’s stupid-tall when human sized’ and ‘utilises sign language’ brain cells is such a delight to see (I too share these brain cells)

It stands at a tram stop, passively absorbing the familiarly unfamiliar ambience. The rattling of distant tracks mask the whirring gears of its metal arm, hidden beneath the slope of a tattered cloak. In its other hand dangles a lantern, home to a single lumafly, casting a dull blue glow.

unchosen child. a new will to break. a new voice to cry out. a light to keep it company.

it beckons no more. it beckons no more. with no chains left to bind. no purpose left to serve. a different hollowness. liberation.

// Independent portrayal of the Hollow Knight. ◁ Delicate Flower ending. ◁ Open to all verses, can adjust as necessary. ◁ DMs open for plotting, questions, private threads. ◁ #HKRP | #MVRP | #AU