[ If it weren't for their firm grip on Grimm's cloak reminding them to move along, the Vessel would likely have to play a constant game of catching up; the way their head moves constantly, attempting to take everything in, is almost comical. They're intensely curious, that much is certain.
When they pass the sole inhabitant of the town, they let go, briefly. To look up at the other bug and to listen to the few words he has to say, a disquieted murmur.
After a little hesitation, they give his cloak a soft pat. Some attempt at comfort or communication? It's unclear. But they're soon back at Grimm's side, running after him to catch up.
More new bugs, living ones. Not husks filled with light, or strange, ephemeral dreams.
After a moment, they hesitantly mimic Grimm's gesture, waving awkwardly at Brumm, and then at the Grimmsteeds peering down at this newcomer. They seem to be at a loss as to what to do after that; they stare up at the Troupe Master helplessly. They're apparently waiting for permission to enter.
(Always waiting for orders, for someone else's word or command. An instinct imprinted on their soul from the moment they were born.) ]
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When they pass the sole inhabitant of the town, they let go, briefly. To look up at the other bug and to listen to the few words he has to say, a disquieted murmur.
After a little hesitation, they give his cloak a soft pat. Some attempt at comfort or communication? It's unclear. But they're soon back at Grimm's side, running after him to catch up.
More new bugs, living ones. Not husks filled with light, or strange, ephemeral dreams.
After a moment, they hesitantly mimic Grimm's gesture, waving awkwardly at Brumm, and then at the Grimmsteeds peering down at this newcomer. They seem to be at a loss as to what to do after that; they stare up at the Troupe Master helplessly. They're apparently waiting for permission to enter.
(Always waiting for orders, for someone else's word or command. An instinct imprinted on their soul from the moment they were born.) ]