[A fire burns with the knowledge it will one day run out of kindling. That is Grimm's fate as the God of Nightmares and thus he is saddened and hurt when one's life is cut down before their time. The Vessel was strong to live on their own for as long as they did with the Radiance's force knocking on the door for reasons they cannot help. The Dreamers bore down upon them again for reasons beyond the child's control.
They all have their reasons but that does not mean Grimm cannot wish that wasn't the case.
Gently he pats the top of his head, sighing.]
I am fine. The Dreamers will not harm me. [If the voice was anything to go by, it would end...poorly if they tried.] I just believe they should have asked you those questions in a politer manner.
[It would have been better to ask him, honestly. But Grimm does not know if Wyrm ever spoke of him to the Dreamers or what he would have said if that was the case.]
[ The Vessel simply tilts their head a little at the words, giving off the impression of confusion. Now that the moment is over, and they've had time to process it, they've accepted it as it was, not questioning whether it could have been done differently.
They do not understand why he wishes it could have been otherwise.
After a moment, they turn to look at the sealed egg, that strong sense of curiosity overriding fear. Letting go of his cloak to approach it, cautiously. The masks glowing on the door give them significant pause before they decide to walk up anyway, and when nothing happens, they touch it.
They trace the rough ridges and whorls of the closed door, as far as they can reach; made to look even smaller by its sheer size. Head cocked as if they're listening for something, or to something inside.
They rest their forehead against the door for a brief moment before straightening again, giving it a little pat before turning around. Looking at him, and then at one of the temple's entrances, and then running back up to him to tug on his cloak.
Looks like they're ready to leave. Whatever they felt they needed to do in the egg's presence, it's finished now. ]
[Grimm sees their confusion at his words but does not elaborate. Perhaps once they learn more of themself, to feel and contextualize why such things follow the Vessel even if they ever try to shake it...then he would.
The notes in the song have changed but it still is the song of a Vessel. The dark and sorrowful history of the Abyss and the Pale King will follow them.
There is nothing that Grimm can hear within the Black Egg Temple. The call for help is not for either the Troupe Master nor the God of Nightmares, even if it pulled at the edges of the darkest realm. It was a call made by the sleepless, of a once-strong seal. Of a scared, dying child.
Do not hope. (Help me.)
They tug on his cloak and Grimm looks down and smiles before standing again.]
And on we go, my friend.
[The adventure out of the Forgotten Crossroads are uneventful for the most part. The husks are back in full force but defeating them is easy and frankly Grimm is not in the mood to really draw it out into a dance. So up the rope they go to Dirtmouth.
The tiny town is silent as they both walk out of the well but as they move along the empty houses and the one remaining bug who skitters out of Grimm's way but looks at the Vessel with curiosity, soon music begins to float on the air. The red writing on the signs nearby point them in the direction of red tents and the Grimmsteads that stare in the pair's direction.
Brumm is standing outside, looking back and forward for his Master. Grimm knew the Nightmare King's voice before the Ritual would attract the attention of his Troupe and the words themselves were not comforting. Brumm may not speak much but his actions spoke to his nervousness. He catches the larger bug's attention with a wave before looking down at the Vessel.]
Here we are, the tents of the Grimm Troupe. Our home in the realm of reality.
[ 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.) ]
[It is rather adorable to see the Vessel expressing curiosity and it likely will be good for them to hear that they would not be completely bound to staying in the tent when the Grimm Troupe traveled to different worlds. As long as they were there for the shows themselves, they could explore as they saw fit.
And it is always good to see the life that still is within these dying lands. Grimm consumed the flames that remained when kingdoms fell but that did not mean life could not be reborn from the ashes. He was the Nightmare King, not a reaper.
The Vessel stops after waving at Brumm and the Grimmsteeds, waiting for the command to tell them what to do next. It was what they were created for, to listen to someone's words and follow the orders they were given until they had nothing else left to give.
Grimm is not that type of person. He expected certain things to be done when it came to the shows and the Ritual but otherwise encouraged individual thought. A God may be more wary with free will within their followers but Grimm was the Troupe Master.
And that was much more fun. He kneels in front of the Vessel and smiles.]
What is it you wish to do now, my friend?
[What do you want to do, with the choice put in your own hands?]
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no subject
They all have their reasons but that does not mean Grimm cannot wish that wasn't the case.
Gently he pats the top of his head, sighing.]
I am fine. The Dreamers will not harm me. [If the voice was anything to go by, it would end...poorly if they tried.] I just believe they should have asked you those questions in a politer manner.
[It would have been better to ask him, honestly. But Grimm does not know if Wyrm ever spoke of him to the Dreamers or what he would have said if that was the case.]
no subject
They do not understand why he wishes it could have been otherwise.
After a moment, they turn to look at the sealed egg, that strong sense of curiosity overriding fear. Letting go of his cloak to approach it, cautiously. The masks glowing on the door give them significant pause before they decide to walk up anyway, and when nothing happens, they touch it.
They trace the rough ridges and whorls of the closed door, as far as they can reach; made to look even smaller by its sheer size. Head cocked as if they're listening for something, or to something inside.
They rest their forehead against the door for a brief moment before straightening again, giving it a little pat before turning around. Looking at him, and then at one of the temple's entrances, and then running back up to him to tug on his cloak.
Looks like they're ready to leave. Whatever they felt they needed to do in the egg's presence, it's finished now. ]
no subject
The notes in the song have changed but it still is the song of a Vessel. The dark and sorrowful history of the Abyss and the Pale King will follow them.
There is nothing that Grimm can hear within the Black Egg Temple. The call for help is not for either the Troupe Master nor the God of Nightmares, even if it pulled at the edges of the darkest realm. It was a call made by the sleepless, of a once-strong seal. Of a scared, dying child.
Do not hope.
(Help me.)
They tug on his cloak and Grimm looks down and smiles before standing again.]
And on we go, my friend.
[The adventure out of the Forgotten Crossroads are uneventful for the most part. The husks are back in full force but defeating them is easy and frankly Grimm is not in the mood to really draw it out into a dance. So up the rope they go to Dirtmouth.
The tiny town is silent as they both walk out of the well but as they move along the empty houses and the one remaining bug who skitters out of Grimm's way but looks at the Vessel with curiosity, soon music begins to float on the air. The red writing on the signs nearby point them in the direction of red tents and the Grimmsteads that stare in the pair's direction.
Brumm is standing outside, looking back and forward for his Master. Grimm knew the Nightmare King's voice before the Ritual would attract the attention of his Troupe and the words themselves were not comforting. Brumm may not speak much but his actions spoke to his nervousness. He catches the larger bug's attention with a wave before looking down at the Vessel.]
Here we are, the tents of the Grimm Troupe. Our home in the realm of reality.
no subject
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.) ]
no subject
And it is always good to see the life that still is within these dying lands. Grimm consumed the flames that remained when kingdoms fell but that did not mean life could not be reborn from the ashes. He was the Nightmare King, not a reaper.
The Vessel stops after waving at Brumm and the Grimmsteeds, waiting for the command to tell them what to do next. It was what they were created for, to listen to someone's words and follow the orders they were given until they had nothing else left to give.
Grimm is not that type of person. He expected certain things to be done when it came to the shows and the Ritual but otherwise encouraged individual thought. A God may be more wary with free will within their followers but Grimm was the Troupe Master.
And that was much more fun. He kneels in front of the Vessel and smiles.]
What is it you wish to do now, my friend?
[What do you want to do, with the choice put in your own hands?]