[It is something that reminds Grimm of his own contrast to the Radiance, to his sealed away sister. The Kingdom of Hallownest thrived with those who worshiped the Pale King and the free will he bestowed upon them. The Nightmare King had his own followers in the past but...no more.
Grimm stood with the Troupe and them alone. Not as a God and his worshipers but as Master and actors within their endless song. He refused to accept praise as the God of Nightmares, refused to step on the free wills of those who chose to put on a mask and enter the Troupe's everlasting dance.
A failure of a God. But a God free of his throne.
Getting a straight answer (or as straight of an answer as the Pale King ever gives) surprises Grimm but generally these rare moments were the beginning of something good, interesting or both. Stepping out of the closet himself, Grimm is silent for a moment as he stretches with a groan. It appears that his height was a problem for once and working the kinks out of his body takes a moment.
Flexibility was endlessly useful for performances but that did not mean holding these poses did not cause discomfort!
Grimm can still see how distracted the Pale King is. If this was any other situation he would have long since started working again. A way to distract the Pale King from his work was to present a big enough puzzle to gain his attention but this time the puzzle was in his own head.
The perfect machine encountering the perfect error.]
Perhaps we can work it out together. What is missing from this puzzle presented before you? Is it a particular question or subject you seek the answer to?
[ It's yet another puzzle. Both the Nightmare King and his vessel had chosen not to embrace godhood; that crimson flame merely watched and slumbered until it was time to be reborn, and the Troupe Master in all his incarnations wandered the world above, desiring no worship and gathering few followers.
The benefits of being a god far outweigh any costs that need to be paid.
(The Pale King wears the heaviness of responsibility and power as if he was born to it. In some ways, it wouldn't be inaccurate to say that was the case; the being Grimm speaks to now, an ancient mind in a mortal shell, was finely crafted to wield godhood like a weapon. A sword to pierce his enemies, to leave his mark on those he deemed worthy.)
The Pale King's domain - despite his experimentation in dreams - is the physical world, the conscious thought, the exertion and effect of will. There is no puzzle put in front of him he cannot solve, nothing he cannot build, no machine he cannot put together and dismantle as he wishes. His visions of the future move mountains in the present, carve tunnels into solid rock, displace what once was and make it what he has seen - what he believes it should be.
It is both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness, that strength of belief. It allows only for action; not inaction, not reflection. No faltering, no doubt, no stirring of the subconscious, no looking back.
A perfect, efficient, finely-tuned machine with the capability to reshape the world around him, but not himself. ]
It does not require that kind of effort.
It will pass. [ More accurately, he will ignore it. Possibly forever. ] There is no purpose in entertaining such thoughts. It only encourages more.
[ He picks up a small device on the workbench, tinkering with it, seeing some tiny imperfection that he intends to fix. What it is is unclear. ]
[Certainly the Pale King is not wrong. Grimm merrily ignored his godhood until it was needed, a flame that had gasoline poured on it when the Ritual called upon it.
But the Pale King embraced it, bent the concept into a sharp blade. Regular bugs immediately recognized him for a perfect God and Grimm himself had indeed recognized Wyrm for what he was when they first met. Radiant in his own way, a God in the small form of a bug who turned mindless creatures into a civilization.
The God of Free Will and Invention, a creator. One only had to look around to see all that he has created and shaped Hallownest with. A perfect machine that could create a perfect world.
But Grimm can see what he is missing, the metaphorical heart that seems to have no place in this perfect machine but was there regardless. Grimm has lived long enough and has had so many reincarnations that emotions were difficult to miss or ignore.
(It may be worth the costs but the insanity brought about is something the Nightmare King will not endure ever again.)
He finds a chair and pulls it nearby so he can sit and watch the Pale King work. It was interesting to watch but it also allows him to observe Wyrm's body language better.]
And you believe that ignoring the matter will not do more harm then good? It is unusual to see you express such things, so there must be something new rattling around in your mind.
[Perhaps not something new (his mind went everywhere and it was difficult to keep up some times.) but it was enough to arrest the Pale King's attention and that alone was worth poking at.]
[ Will, properly directed, properly channeled and applied, is the only thing that can truly change the world to his satisfaction. All else can be tuned and engineered and augmented to suit those purposes.
A sword has no need to feel for what it cuts. A machine designed for a singular purpose has no need of a heart.
(So, why does he continue to be plagued by such incessant, useless thoughts? It was not something he had in the form of a Wyrm, so far above other bugs. It was never something he had to bother with.)
He dismantles the device in front of him and begins to meticulously pore over its pieces, looking for some hidden error. He works smoothly, without pause; the only thing that stops his efficient, repetitive movements is Grimm's words.
(He doesn't need to stop to listen. He's more than capable of multitasking. But he does regardless.) ]
Not something new.
It reoccurs. Enough to be an irritant.
[ He holds up a needle to the light, examining it for flaw. What place it has in the device he's so casually dissected is not yet clear. ]
I do not understand it, [ he admits, after a moment, and there's an edge, a frustrated tightness to his voice. It seems ridiculous to even say, it would be much easier to write off as insignificant and unnecessary.
But his curiosity, his latent pride, won't allow him to stop turning it over in his head. Wearing it down, thinking about it, considering all angles and still - remaining uncomprehending.
Overthinking it, in truth. It's not something that can be fully dissected, nor controlled. But he doesn't understand that, either. ] I have no need for it. Yet it still persists.
[Watching the Pale King work was its own form of entertainment. The focus he had for each project he chose to do was deep and frankly this was the first in a long time Grimm has been able to watch and speak to him (and receive an answer, even!) were few and far in-between.
But to hear that these bouts of feelings were reoccurring rather then something that had merely happened today was far more interesting. Grimm understands that it would be irritating for someone who has never experienced such things prior to his transformation into a smaller form, but the Troupe Master knew the impossibility of trying to dissect said feelings.
It was the Pale King's go-to response for all that comes into his world. Break something down and build it back up into something better, something more efficient. But that will not work in this case.]
Perhaps we should start at the beginning. [Grimm watches the Pale King examining the needle for something he did not know the use of.] When did it all begin?
[If it was reoccurring then that meant it began somewhere. Something, somewhere, wormed its way into the Pale King's mind and jammed the clogs of the perfect machine when it saw fit.
(If he was being honest, Grimm was both amused and jealous that something managed to provoke such a reaction.)]
[ There is a long, long moment of silence. Knowing the Pale King's usual routines and habits, Grimm could easily be forgiven for simply assuming he's focused on his task and forgotten that a conversation was happening at all.
A needle, a cylinder, cogs and gears, a crank to turn...various parts are being put together with unerring precision. He can see it in his head, see what should exist long before it takes shape before him; he doesn't need his prescience for that.
(Why did he make this? Music is one of those things that he has no need for, either. It wasn't something he desired, something that soothed him; nor was it something he had a solid concept of.
Until recently - what counts as recently for something as ancient as him. ) ]
I am surprised you did not notice when it started.
[The inevitable silence is indeed what he is used to. The Pale King sometimes became lost in his own mind and projects often like the God of Nightmares did when presented with wide, open spaces. Unless what he was speaking of was extremely important, he would break off conversations to think and sometimes leave sentences incomplete.
Grimm did not mind waiting. He knew if he made enough of a nuisance then he could likely refocus the Pale King's attention...but he was far too curious about what he was making. The Troupe Master could see the shape of this invention and, unless the Pale King had other plans, could guess what it was for.
Music, but why the Pale King would--
The Troupe Master blinks in surprise as it clicks.]
It began when you met me.
[A few other things are occurring to Grimm but he will not yet speak of them.]
[ Not a yes, or a no, or even a maybe, but a completely different answer altogether. His tone is impassive, a flat reading of the situation in front of him.
Well...
Mostly impassive. There's a hint of something else in there, too, though what it is...is unclear. Surprise. Resignation, perhaps.
Waiting for the inevitable mockery to begin, maybe. That was usually how these things went. He has realised perhaps a little too late that this conversation was heading down this inevitable path all along, and resigned himself to it.
He continues to painstakingly construct what is taking shape as some kind of musical device. Grooves in the surface of the cylinder are arranged in painstaking patterns; they are the paths where the needle will move along when the crank is wound. ]
[Oh, the Pale King is quite correct when he thinks Grimm is amused by this. The sly smile creeping onto the Troupe Master's face gives it away although it is not as smug as it normally was when the conversations in the past have gone down this road.
He's amused...but also a little touched. Invoking feelings into something that normally did not feel certainly meant he had enough presence in the Pale King's mind for them to exist.
What the feelings were in question were another story, however.]
I am, yes.
[If the Pale King was being honest, it was only fair Grimm was as well.]
How would you describe these feelings, my friend? Good, bad, or something else?
[ He doesn't even need to look to know the expression creeping onto Grimm's face; he merely sighs. It's a conversation they've had rarely, but he is not a being that forgets.
Bugs were made out of patterns, of routine. Under Radiance, that was all they were. Under him, they were so much more than that. They could defy instinct and move to do far more interesting things.
Grimm - not the Nightmare King, but his vessel - had always been that way, linked to godhood though he was. He was unconventional and irreverent and somehow terribly annoying despite the Pale King's inability to feel.
Another long silence; the device is coming together, taking on a shape. Almost finished; just a few more parts to be added, and then it will be ready. ]
I do not know.
[ And just from that answer, Grimm probably has more insight into the truth than the Pale King would prefer he have. The fact that he cannot name one or the other likely means it is a mixture. ]
[When the Pale King felt something it was always at a basic level, almost like a child. Happiness, annoyance, curiosity....simplistic and often crushed down and discarded for something more productive. But...
"I do not know."
The Pale King was not stupid. He may not know what emotions were but he could break someone down to find what made them happy, what they feared to use it for something productive. Turning that upon himself would be easy and likely was his first reaction once these feelings began to surface.
But these were mixed feelings so convoluted that even Wyrm could not figure them out. Yet it was enough for Grimm to understand where this was going. So...]
And what of the living flame?
[Grimm rarely brought up the Nightmare King. Any information on his role as the God of Nightmares was something the Pale King likely had to pry out of him and was quite firm that there was to be a line drawn between the two of them.
The question is...do these feelings apply to the Nightmare King as well or Grimm alone?]
[ Another irritated clicking sound. He imparts only as much information as he thinks his current listener needs to know - what is necessary, what is not necessary. But each vague answer only produces more questions, and the irritation is half at himself for even thinking this conversation could be a simple thing.
(For a god who can see far, far into the future, he is less than stellar at navigating these smaller things, seeing these outcomes.
Even he doesn't know if he willingly lets himself be trapped in such apparently pointless conversations. He examines it time and time again, and doesn't understand the logic in himself that leads to it.
He doesn't admit it to himself.
It's--
frustrating. Irritating as ever.)
There is a shift of his head, empty sockets 'glancing' at Grimm and away from his little project - though this is yet another unnecessary motion. Grimm's position is known to him. He hasn't moved, and there is no need to reconfirm that he is there. ]
He is far easier to understand than you.
[ That's as clear an answer as you're going to get. ]
[Grimm meets the gaze that many do not. He is well aware that many found the Pale King's stare unnerving, an empty sort of endless void where one would be lost if they fell into it. But the Troupe Master did not mind it. To be frank, sometimes he wished it was possible to fill that void with flame and dress all this white in black and red. A desire to consume that came with his nature.
What, with the foresight of the Wyrm, are his nightmares like? What consumed his mind when he finally slept?]
A point of reference for myself, dear Wyrm. Your only meeting with him involved being nearly set on fire, so these feelings of yours are for I alone.
[A matter tossed aside. The Pale King sharpened his Godhood into a blade but Grimm treated it as lesser then his role of the Troupe Master. Nightmares still visited those across the lands and the Troupe still reaped the flames of the dead and dying so he was fulfilling what he was born to do.
He did not shrink his duties. But the Troupe Master came first long before the Nightmare King, seemingly by the God's own design. He had no worshipers, no one but isolation and what he could see through his vessel's eyes.]
Would anything change if I left for good and we never spoke again?
[ He doesn't give Grimm an answer to that, but that alone is answer in itself, because while the Pale King excels in intelligence he severely lacks any sort of tact. If he thought it was truly worth nothing, he would say so.
The fact that he does not means something would change - something he doesn't like - if Grimm were to leave, and he knows it is worth enough to not want to admit it.
Instead, he focuses his attentions on the device he has put together, affixing a horn that looks a little like the many flowers the Queen seems to be so fond of, and winds the crank. Music fills the air, a recording made at some point in the past.
[It does not take long for Grimm to know where the song comes from. It is the one he dances to, what he brought to Hallownest when the Lantern was first lit. A land where bugs were first learning to be free and they cautiously shuffled closer to the tents and music that came with it.
Grimm had been well aware of who else came to see the show. Wyrm had a presence that demanded to be noticed in his larger form and had eyes that could see without moving. But it appeared the Pale King had not expected a visit once the show was over and the moment when they first met was something Grimm kept close to his heart.]
Wonderfully done, my friend.
[But it has not distracted Grimm from the topic at hand and the Pale King's silence is all the confirmation he needed. As the music continues to play Grimm stands and joins the Pale King at his work bench, kneeling down to face him eye-to-eye.
They cut quite the contrast together, pure white and grey and black and red. They could consume one another but did not for whatever reason they wished.]
Are having these feelings such a bad thing? To care for another is not such a sin worthy of condemnation.
[ Gifted with prescience, the ability to divine the future, to pull out light from the darkness ahead; what does the Pale King dream of? What are his nightmares of?
Dreams are barred to him. He does not dream of anything but his own memories, breaking them down, dissecting them for further use and analysis.
His nightmares are
they are of things going wrong. Of everything that could go wrong, a morass of failure and possibilities and things that must be prevented, that can be prevented on the right course.
Everything that can happen, that could happen, that must not be allowed to happen.
He meets Grimm's eyes and then looks away, as if looking at him is painful. Perhaps it is. ]
It will be.
[ (In many ways the Pale King will be like, is like, the vessel that in the future - in a future? - that he will one day strive to create.)
Minute flaws in a machine constructed for precision, for balance, for efficiency. They add up and create catastrophic failures.
The ability to see the future means he must take that path, no matter the cost. Otherwise, he cannot see at all.
He cannot and will not trust; this world will not function without him; that is one of the greatest and most glaring flaws in his designs.
(He has never considered whether the heart in him is truly as useless as he thinks it is.) ]
[Grimm reaches out and places a hand on each side of the Pale King's head, gentling turning him to face the Troupe Master. Many would never dare touch the King but Grimm has long since stopped caring. He could move away easily - Grimm still maintained the ability to choose, even now - but he wanted the Pale King to look.
He knew of the Ritual. That was the sole topic that remained a constant debate between the two of them, the point of such a thing and the child born from the death of their father. Since the beginning of the split of realms, the Nightmare King had created his vessel and Grimm created his child from his own flame. They would consume him in the end, eat away at the flame so they could grow and would always be the cause of Grimm's death.
Yet he continued to love them, kept that young flame alive as it was nurture to maturity. These feelings could be considered a flaw. A machine that created an endless song loving the brief moment when the tune flagged upon his death.
But Grimm would love the Grimmchild no matter how the Pale King phrased his points. Illogical, unneeded. But Grimm's own nightmares were of the Grimmchild's death.]
The heart is something you will never be able to take apart, my friend. These feelings you possess for me...we both know how to make it stop.
[Harking back to Grimm's question, would things change if he left for good? The Lantern remained unguarded. The Pale King's followers would not approach it and those infected by the plague strangely were warded away.
But nothing would not stop the Pale King himself from destroying the Nightmare Lantern and ending his own dream of these feelings and he knows that the choice is there. Oh, certainly Grimm would have his own thoughts if the Wyrm made that choice but he would not stop it from happening.
[ Time and time again, whenever the Ritual had been brought up, they had argued. He had never seen the point in it, the willingness to love something that would kill you in the end. To entrust the future to something, to someone, other than yourself.
Death was transience, a change of form. The Ritual was a form of that - reincarnation - but even so...
He had never understood it. (He had kept returning to it, because there was something there, some blind spot he was missing, surely. Something he could not see that would help him understand
why he kept returning to at all, why it bothered him so much. It did not matter. It should not matter. His own transformation had required him to die, to abandon his decaying shell for something smaller and newer, and it was abundantly clear that the conversation was something they would never agree on and therefore it was useless to continue, so why-
The gears click and turn in his head and something in him long-rusted and neglected, what he had long considered useless and irrelevant, says you already have everything you need to solve this. You have always had what you needed to solve this.
That first, tiny step to understanding does not come in a flood or in a rush; it is not a key unlocking a door to where things are barred. It is simply a long-ignored piece of a puzzle, a solution that was always there.
In all his life, he has never felt anything - until much more recently. So there is no repression because to repress would imply that emotions on a smaller, more useless scale even existed for him in the first place.
But that small piece of understanding lets him see that this denial was irrational from the very beginning. That this achingly useless flaw is irreversibly intertwined with everything that he is.
There is no way of preserving what he was. There is only what he has become.)
Would it happen? There is a future where it happens. He already knows the shape of it; a broken lantern and an extinguished dream. Never to return again.
He- ]
Taking that action would not solve anything.
[ His tone is resigned. Not tired, because even when he works himself to exhaustion his voice is never tired - it is only his body that fails him, not his mind - but...
[It comes quietly but Grimm did not expect a grand show of understanding. The Pale King was showing enough with what he says alone. A tireless machine showing exhaustion, the mind finally choosing to pick up the final piece of the puzzle that went ignored until now.
He remembers meeting the Pale King as he was birthed, one of the grand Wyrms and something so very old. Unfeeling save for a daunting curiosity that bent the room, took apart those who caught his attention. A mind that changed and polished Hallownest into the shining, beautiful gem it was now. It was something spoken highly of in the lands Grimm has visited, the dying telling stories of a radiant kingdom of bugs. The Hallownest and its ruler, the Pale King.
But information on said ruler was few. Moments like these no one but Grimm would be able to see and he knew it may not happen again. But he will encourage it as much as possible.
The Wyrm was beautiful, a creature of pure power that focused it on Hallownest. But if Grimm was to be honest, he found the Pale King more interesting. These moments were it was not about what he created but him, a struggle to understand what he did not have experience with, trying. Failing and learning. Expanding the self.
An aching, useless flaw that was the Pale King's alone. A cog in the machine that does not yet have a use, but perhaps one day it will. And that, Grimm thinks, makes the Pale King's form much more beautiful to the Troupe Master then the Wyrm ever was.]
Perhaps. But bugs change as time flows. My scarlet eyes cannot see the future, my friend.
[Grimm can see the lands of the dead and dying, even if some places in Hallownest remained an unknown. But in particular Grimm means he cannot see his own future like the Pale King can.
The Lantern possibly broken, the nightmare ended. But when Grimm dies and his child grows, who knows, really, if they would be willing to come back if the Pale King called.
They will not be the same God that the Pale King met. No version of "Grimm" has ever been the same and never will be.
Gently he rests his hands on the King's shoulders and smiles a little. It is not flashy like it normally is, a quiet fire that not many see.]
There is always a choice. [Always.] But it is yours alone.
[To follow the things he sees, regardless of what must be done to reach that point.
To give into these emotions and chose something else, the unknown.
Grimm can offer counsel if desired but it will be the Pale King's choice in the end.]
[ While the Pale King prefers to scrub out flaws where he finds them - mistakes, errors, any imperfection that interferes with his work - the Troupe Master is the opposite, seemingly delighting in illuminating them. He has an annoying talent for finding the little cracks and blemishes the Pale King has yet to scour from himself and delighting in them.
It's yet another thing he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand that inherent fascination with not only him, but those flaws and cracks and moments where he is not as unfeeling and unfaltering as he projects.
He doesn't understand that concept of finding it beautiful, either. It was not something he had ever truly needed a word for; it was his subjects, those who admired his works, that instilled that concept in his head. What he created simply was, and functioned, and functioned well, and that was as close to comprehending beauty as he ever got, or desired to get.
(A vessel built to command, to build, to rule a kingdom does not need to feel to do it. In his old body, his old existence, he had judged it so.
But it seems that even this plan, this process he had once thought perfect, had its errors. Just not where he could see them.
He had not thought that putting his mind into something mortal, something closer and smaller, would change the mind itself. Shape it, without noticing, into something just as strange and separated to his old, shed self as the Wyrm was to mortal bugs and other gods.)
He just sighs, this time. A slight (unneeded) exhale. This, on the other hand, sounds tired. ]
So you continue to tell me.
[ And, as if he's only just noticed that Grimm's constant physical contact (as if he's not just letting it happen all the time), he glances to the side, to where one of the Troupe Master's hands rests on his shoulder. ] Are you always this insistent on touching everyone you talk to?
[ There's no judgement in his voice. Once again, his feelings, if they can be called that, are simple, almost childish things. Basic curiosity.
Is it a way to try and change the subject? Is it a simple observation of what's happening? Both? ]
[The answer behind why Grimm finds one's flaws so beautiful is something that can be traced back to the Nightmare King. When the Pale King behold the God of Nightmares for the first time, did he find the Living Flame perfect? Likely no, not without some changes. He was a monstrous God who sought to scorch the earth clean of those who entered Grimm's mind, friend or foe. A God who had created his vessel so he would not suffer the insanity of isolation. Nightmares were the fear and power of the heart, screaming to be heard from the smallest bug to the land itself. Even the flames of the dead and dying were much of the same, chaotic until Grimm pulled them into body and mind so the lands could rest and grow.
But there was a beauty in those flames, something that would be lost if they were restrained in the name of perfection. They were damaging, tiring and sometimes Grimm would sleep for a long time until woken again, by call or by music. But he bore them as well as he could, by breed, role and care.
All the way until the end.
Still, the damaging flaws of these flames were something he would always bare. It is the same as the flaws of the Pale King that Grimm took delight in seeing. Perhaps many preferred to see a perfect statue but the Troupe Master found the odd warps and bents lent a personal touch, something that no one else could replicate.
Grimm can see the Pale King in these flaws and what he may become. For better or for worse...as it was with everyone else.
The Troupe Master chuckles at the Pale King's observation and answers the simple question.]
Only those I cherish.
[In turn, is Grimm aware that is a loaded statement? Is he simply being blunt? Yes.]
[ A god that chooses to hide himself away, shunning worshippers, preferring not to show his true form until it becomes necessary; a vessel who rarely speaks of his own status.
He is strong already, the Nightmare King; he could be so much stronger. Burning brightly, as terrible and powerful as his estranged sister was.
He does not understand why a god sees fit to lock himself away, why that power is masked and muzzled. (Though, in some ways, pushing away what little emotions he has - seeing them as a painful inconvenience - is the first step to beginning to comprehend it.
The heart has such power, after all. More than he could ever imagine, as he is right now.)
Another quiet, irritable clicking sound. He shakes his head at that statement, more like he is trying to rid himself of something bothering him than true disagreement.
It's not something he can disagree with, in any case; he has no control over what others say.
(Well, he does, but not with Grimm. Grimm will talk about things whether the Pale King wants it or not, and trying to dodge or ignore the topic only seems to encourage him.
Irritating.
But a small part of him - that flawed part he has long ignored - is oddly pleased, in its own way. Something for him to clash against, to learn from, to strive to understand and fail and gain more understanding still.)
Were this any other time, this conversation would have already ended; the Pale King would have dismissed Grimm or otherwise indicated he no longer desired his presence.
But he tolerates being touched, and he tolerates him being there, and perhaps 'tolerates' is too distant of a word for what this is. Perhaps, without noticing, it never really was the right word. ]
You pick strange things to cherish, then.
I do not understand why you are so fascinated with such imperfections.
[ Is he trying to force a change of topic, or is he referring to himself? For all that bugs speak highly of the Pale King, he rarely has anything to say about himself as an individual; only what actions he will take. Perhaps it's more telling than he wants it to be that he only speaks of himself when things are irritating, when he sees them as flaws and errors to be erased. ]
[Why Grimm muzzles his power, sealed half away into a vessel should be obvious. The Nightmare King's immediate reaction to the Pale King's intrusion upon Grimm's mind was to attempt to incinerate the Wyrm. His flame and flaws were beautiful but Grimm was not and would never be blind to the destruction he could cause if he wished. Should he decide, he could break the rules and cross the line between waking and nightmares, raze Hallownest to the ground.
Nightmare King Grimm would not care.
Likely the Pale King was aware of that.
But he does not dwell on it, to focused on the topic at hand. The smile on his face shows that Grimm can indeed read between the lines of what is and is not said. If the Pale King did not want something, he would have long since ended things. This conversation would be over, Grimm's hands would not be on him. The Troupe Master merrily danced over these lines and went where most dared not with their monarch, but he knew when not to push and when the Pale King meant enough was enough.
He may have not intended for things to go this far, yes, but he still chose to question it. Forge forward with something he considered an annoyance at best but forge forward he did.
A strange thing to cherish, yes. But Grimm has no regrets. It was the strange and unique that often produced the most spectacular flames.]
I enjoy them simply because they are fascinating. It is not a lie when I say it would be difficult for even myself to explain the desire to see it.
[Well, that is not quite true. Grimm could not explain it with words alone. But he could certainly show, if the Pale King was willing.]
I could show you, but I would have to request something that may be difficult for you, my dear friend.
[ The Nightmare King would not care, would raze Hallownest to ashes if he ever got it into his head to do so. He is aware.
It's not something he would be pleased about, but that is simply how gods are; they will for something to happen, and by fire or will it happens. It is something he understands.
(It is something he innately understood, until he became more vulnerable, more mortal, and now he finds it...troubling?
Hallownest is in truth a kingdom formed because...he thought he could. He had the power, so why should he not? But lately, the thought of it being destroyed is...disquieting. It's strange. He becomes restless, driven. Protective?
Such feelings, if that is what they truly are, have never happened before.)
He simply sighs at Grimm's words. If the Troupe Master saw fit to tell him that, then clearly it was going to be something he likely found amusing and the Pale King did not. ]
What did you have in mind.
[ ...And yet, he still agrees to it, implicitly. Bothers to engage with it at all. ]
I would like you to join me and my Troupe when we travel next, wherever that may be. Not as a member but as an observer.
[Following the Grimm Troupe would be a difficult task for any ordinary bug but this is the Pale King. Through dreams and nightmares, he would follow if he so chose.
Just as he could chose to allow Grimm to stay or banish him forever. That choice would always be in the Pale King's hands.
But Grimm has his reasons to extend this offer to the Pale King beyond his own amusement at the possibility of seeing the Wyrm like a fish out of water in a land that was not Hallownest.
Exposure to the dead and dying often made one see just how beautiful life is, flaws and all.]
Perhaps you will find an answer there. Or something new to experiment with.
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Grimm stood with the Troupe and them alone. Not as a God and his worshipers but as Master and actors within their endless song. He refused to accept praise as the God of Nightmares, refused to step on the free wills of those who chose to put on a mask and enter the Troupe's everlasting dance.
A failure of a God. But a God free of his throne.
Getting a straight answer (or as straight of an answer as the Pale King ever gives) surprises Grimm but generally these rare moments were the beginning of something good, interesting or both. Stepping out of the closet himself, Grimm is silent for a moment as he stretches with a groan. It appears that his height was a problem for once and working the kinks out of his body takes a moment.
Flexibility was endlessly useful for performances but that did not mean holding these poses did not cause discomfort!
Grimm can still see how distracted the Pale King is. If this was any other situation he would have long since started working again. A way to distract the Pale King from his work was to present a big enough puzzle to gain his attention but this time the puzzle was in his own head.
The perfect machine encountering the perfect error.]
Perhaps we can work it out together. What is missing from this puzzle presented before you? Is it a particular question or subject you seek the answer to?
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The benefits of being a god far outweigh any costs that need to be paid.
(The Pale King wears the heaviness of responsibility and power as if he was born to it. In some ways, it wouldn't be inaccurate to say that was the case; the being Grimm speaks to now, an ancient mind in a mortal shell, was finely crafted to wield godhood like a weapon. A sword to pierce his enemies, to leave his mark on those he deemed worthy.)
The Pale King's domain - despite his experimentation in dreams - is the physical world, the conscious thought, the exertion and effect of will. There is no puzzle put in front of him he cannot solve, nothing he cannot build, no machine he cannot put together and dismantle as he wishes. His visions of the future move mountains in the present, carve tunnels into solid rock, displace what once was and make it what he has seen - what he believes it should be.
It is both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness, that strength of belief. It allows only for action; not inaction, not reflection. No faltering, no doubt, no stirring of the subconscious, no looking back.
A perfect, efficient, finely-tuned machine with the capability to reshape the world around him, but not himself. ]
It does not require that kind of effort.
It will pass. [ More accurately, he will ignore it. Possibly forever. ] There is no purpose in entertaining such thoughts. It only encourages more.
[ He picks up a small device on the workbench, tinkering with it, seeing some tiny imperfection that he intends to fix. What it is is unclear. ]
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But the Pale King embraced it, bent the concept into a sharp blade. Regular bugs immediately recognized him for a perfect God and Grimm himself had indeed recognized Wyrm for what he was when they first met. Radiant in his own way, a God in the small form of a bug who turned mindless creatures into a civilization.
The God of Free Will and Invention, a creator. One only had to look around to see all that he has created and shaped Hallownest with. A perfect machine that could create a perfect world.
But Grimm can see what he is missing, the metaphorical heart that seems to have no place in this perfect machine but was there regardless. Grimm has lived long enough and has had so many reincarnations that emotions were difficult to miss or ignore.
(It may be worth the costs but the insanity brought about is something the Nightmare King will not endure ever again.)
He finds a chair and pulls it nearby so he can sit and watch the Pale King work. It was interesting to watch but it also allows him to observe Wyrm's body language better.]
And you believe that ignoring the matter will not do more harm then good? It is unusual to see you express such things, so there must be something new rattling around in your mind.
[Perhaps not something new (his mind went everywhere and it was difficult to keep up some times.) but it was enough to arrest the Pale King's attention and that alone was worth poking at.]
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A sword has no need to feel for what it cuts. A machine designed for a singular purpose has no need of a heart.
(So, why does he continue to be plagued by such incessant, useless thoughts? It was not something he had in the form of a Wyrm, so far above other bugs. It was never something he had to bother with.)
He dismantles the device in front of him and begins to meticulously pore over its pieces, looking for some hidden error. He works smoothly, without pause; the only thing that stops his efficient, repetitive movements is Grimm's words.
(He doesn't need to stop to listen. He's more than capable of multitasking. But he does regardless.) ]
Not something new.
It reoccurs. Enough to be an irritant.
[ He holds up a needle to the light, examining it for flaw. What place it has in the device he's so casually dissected is not yet clear. ]
I do not understand it, [ he admits, after a moment, and there's an edge, a frustrated tightness to his voice. It seems ridiculous to even say, it would be much easier to write off as insignificant and unnecessary.
But his curiosity, his latent pride, won't allow him to stop turning it over in his head. Wearing it down, thinking about it, considering all angles and still - remaining uncomprehending.
Overthinking it, in truth. It's not something that can be fully dissected, nor controlled. But he doesn't understand that, either. ] I have no need for it. Yet it still persists.
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But to hear that these bouts of feelings were reoccurring rather then something that had merely happened today was far more interesting. Grimm understands that it would be irritating for someone who has never experienced such things prior to his transformation into a smaller form, but the Troupe Master knew the impossibility of trying to dissect said feelings.
It was the Pale King's go-to response for all that comes into his world. Break something down and build it back up into something better, something more efficient. But that will not work in this case.]
Perhaps we should start at the beginning. [Grimm watches the Pale King examining the needle for something he did not know the use of.] When did it all begin?
[If it was reoccurring then that meant it began somewhere. Something, somewhere, wormed its way into the Pale King's mind and jammed the clogs of the perfect machine when it saw fit.
(If he was being honest, Grimm was both amused and jealous that something managed to provoke such a reaction.)]
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A needle, a cylinder, cogs and gears, a crank to turn...various parts are being put together with unerring precision. He can see it in his head, see what should exist long before it takes shape before him; he doesn't need his prescience for that.
(Why did he make this? Music is one of those things that he has no need for, either. It wasn't something he desired, something that soothed him; nor was it something he had a solid concept of.
Until recently - what counts as recently for something as ancient as him. ) ]
I am surprised you did not notice when it started.
[ Is he
going to elaborate on this at all?
Apparently not. ]
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Grimm did not mind waiting. He knew if he made enough of a nuisance then he could likely refocus the Pale King's attention...but he was far too curious about what he was making. The Troupe Master could see the shape of this invention and, unless the Pale King had other plans, could guess what it was for.
Music, but why the Pale King would--
The Troupe Master blinks in surprise as it clicks.]
It began when you met me.
[A few other things are occurring to Grimm but he will not yet speak of them.]
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[ Not a yes, or a no, or even a maybe, but a completely different answer altogether. His tone is impassive, a flat reading of the situation in front of him.
Well...
Mostly impassive. There's a hint of something else in there, too, though what it is...is unclear. Surprise. Resignation, perhaps.
Waiting for the inevitable mockery to begin, maybe. That was usually how these things went. He has realised perhaps a little too late that this conversation was heading down this inevitable path all along, and resigned himself to it.
He continues to painstakingly construct what is taking shape as some kind of musical device. Grooves in the surface of the cylinder are arranged in painstaking patterns; they are the paths where the needle will move along when the crank is wound. ]
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He's amused...but also a little touched. Invoking feelings into something that normally did not feel certainly meant he had enough presence in the Pale King's mind for them to exist.
What the feelings were in question were another story, however.]
I am, yes.
[If the Pale King was being honest, it was only fair Grimm was as well.]
How would you describe these feelings, my friend? Good, bad, or something else?
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Bugs were made out of patterns, of routine. Under Radiance, that was all they were. Under him, they were so much more than that. They could defy instinct and move to do far more interesting things.
Grimm - not the Nightmare King, but his vessel - had always been that way, linked to godhood though he was. He was unconventional and irreverent and somehow terribly annoying despite the Pale King's inability to feel.
Another long silence; the device is coming together, taking on a shape. Almost finished; just a few more parts to be added, and then it will be ready. ]
I do not know.
[ And just from that answer, Grimm probably has more insight into the truth than the Pale King would prefer he have. The fact that he cannot name one or the other likely means it is a mixture. ]
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"I do not know."
The Pale King was not stupid. He may not know what emotions were but he could break someone down to find what made them happy, what they feared to use it for something productive. Turning that upon himself would be easy and likely was his first reaction once these feelings began to surface.
But these were mixed feelings so convoluted that even Wyrm could not figure them out. Yet it was enough for Grimm to understand where this was going. So...]
And what of the living flame?
[Grimm rarely brought up the Nightmare King. Any information on his role as the God of Nightmares was something the Pale King likely had to pry out of him and was quite firm that there was to be a line drawn between the two of them.
The question is...do these feelings apply to the Nightmare King as well or Grimm alone?]
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(For a god who can see far, far into the future, he is less than stellar at navigating these smaller things, seeing these outcomes.
Even he doesn't know if he willingly lets himself be trapped in such apparently pointless conversations. He examines it time and time again, and doesn't understand the logic in himself that leads to it.
He doesn't admit it to himself.It's--
frustrating. Irritating as ever.)
There is a shift of his head, empty sockets 'glancing' at Grimm and away from his little project - though this is yet another unnecessary motion. Grimm's position is known to him. He hasn't moved, and there is no need to reconfirm that he is there. ]
He is far easier to understand than you.
[ That's as clear an answer as you're going to get. ]
It is unusual for you to speak of him.
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What, with the foresight of the Wyrm, are his nightmares like? What consumed his mind when he finally slept?]
A point of reference for myself, dear Wyrm. Your only meeting with him involved being nearly set on fire, so these feelings of yours are for I alone.
[A matter tossed aside. The Pale King sharpened his Godhood into a blade but Grimm treated it as lesser then his role of the Troupe Master. Nightmares still visited those across the lands and the Troupe still reaped the flames of the dead and dying so he was fulfilling what he was born to do.
He did not shrink his duties. But the Troupe Master came first long before the Nightmare King, seemingly by the God's own design. He had no worshipers, no one but isolation and what he could see through his vessel's eyes.]
Would anything change if I left for good and we never spoke again?
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The fact that he does not means something would change - something he doesn't like - if Grimm were to leave, and he knows it is worth enough to not want to admit it.
Instead, he focuses his attentions on the device he has put together, affixing a horn that looks a little like the many flowers the Queen seems to be so fond of, and winds the crank. Music fills the air, a recording made at some point in the past.
The instruments are unfamiliar, but the song...
The song is not. ]
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Grimm had been well aware of who else came to see the show. Wyrm had a presence that demanded to be noticed in his larger form and had eyes that could see without moving. But it appeared the Pale King had not expected a visit once the show was over and the moment when they first met was something Grimm kept close to his heart.]
Wonderfully done, my friend.
[But it has not distracted Grimm from the topic at hand and the Pale King's silence is all the confirmation he needed. As the music continues to play Grimm stands and joins the Pale King at his work bench, kneeling down to face him eye-to-eye.
They cut quite the contrast together, pure white and grey and black and red. They could consume one another but did not for whatever reason they wished.]
Are having these feelings such a bad thing? To care for another is not such a sin worthy of condemnation.
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Dreams are barred to him. He does not dream of anything but his own memories, breaking them down, dissecting them for further use and analysis.
His nightmares are
they are of things going wrong. Of everything that could go wrong, a morass of failure and possibilities and things that must be prevented, that can be prevented on the right course.
Everything that can happen, that could happen, that must not be allowed to happen.
He meets Grimm's eyes and then looks away, as if looking at him is painful. Perhaps it is. ]
It will be.
[ (In many ways the Pale King will be like, is like, the vessel that in the future - in a future? - that he will one day strive to create.)
Minute flaws in a machine constructed for precision, for balance, for efficiency. They add up and create catastrophic failures.
The ability to see the future means he must take that path, no matter the cost. Otherwise, he cannot see at all.
He cannot and will not trust; this world will not function without him; that is one of the greatest and most glaring flaws in his designs.
(He has never considered whether the heart in him is truly as useless as he thinks it is.) ]
There is no practical use for it. It is...
[ A small but noticeable pause. ]
...a flaw that does not need to exist.
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[Grimm reaches out and places a hand on each side of the Pale King's head, gentling turning him to face the Troupe Master. Many would never dare touch the King but Grimm has long since stopped caring. He could move away easily - Grimm still maintained the ability to choose, even now - but he wanted the Pale King to look.
He knew of the Ritual. That was the sole topic that remained a constant debate between the two of them, the point of such a thing and the child born from the death of their father. Since the beginning of the split of realms, the Nightmare King had created his vessel and Grimm created his child from his own flame. They would consume him in the end, eat away at the flame so they could grow and would always be the cause of Grimm's death.
Yet he continued to love them, kept that young flame alive as it was nurture to maturity. These feelings could be considered a flaw. A machine that created an endless song loving the brief moment when the tune flagged upon his death.
But Grimm would love the Grimmchild no matter how the Pale King phrased his points. Illogical, unneeded. But Grimm's own nightmares were of the Grimmchild's death.]
The heart is something you will never be able to take apart, my friend. These feelings you possess for me...we both know how to make it stop.
[Harking back to Grimm's question, would things change if he left for good? The Lantern remained unguarded. The Pale King's followers would not approach it and those infected by the plague strangely were warded away.
But nothing would not stop the Pale King himself from destroying the Nightmare Lantern and ending his own dream of these feelings and he knows that the choice is there. Oh, certainly Grimm would have his own thoughts if the Wyrm made that choice but he would not stop it from happening.
Would it happen? Well, Wyrm?]
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Death was transience, a change of form. The Ritual was a form of that - reincarnation - but even so...
He had never understood it. (He had kept returning to it, because there was something there, some blind spot he was missing, surely. Something he could not see that would help him understand
why he kept returning to at all, why it bothered him so much. It did not matter. It should not matter. His own transformation had required him to die, to abandon his decaying shell for something smaller and newer, and it was abundantly clear that the conversation was something they would never agree on and therefore it was useless to continue, so why-
The gears click and turn in his head and something in him long-rusted and neglected, what he had long considered useless and irrelevant, says you already have everything you need to solve this. You have always had what you needed to solve this.
That first, tiny step to understanding does not come in a flood or in a rush; it is not a key unlocking a door to where things are barred. It is simply a long-ignored piece of a puzzle, a solution that was always there.
In all his life, he has never felt anything - until much more recently. So there is no repression because to repress would imply that emotions on a smaller, more useless scale even existed for him in the first place.
But that small piece of understanding lets him see that this denial was irrational from the very beginning. That this achingly useless flaw is irreversibly intertwined with everything that he is.
There is no way of preserving what he was. There is only what he has become.)
Would it happen? There is a future where it happens. He already knows the shape of it; a broken lantern and an extinguished dream. Never to return again.
He- ]
Taking that action would not solve anything.
[ His tone is resigned. Not tired, because even when he works himself to exhaustion his voice is never tired - it is only his body that fails him, not his mind - but...
Something has changed, it seems. ]
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He remembers meeting the Pale King as he was birthed, one of the grand Wyrms and something so very old. Unfeeling save for a daunting curiosity that bent the room, took apart those who caught his attention. A mind that changed and polished Hallownest into the shining, beautiful gem it was now. It was something spoken highly of in the lands Grimm has visited, the dying telling stories of a radiant kingdom of bugs. The Hallownest and its ruler, the Pale King.
But information on said ruler was few. Moments like these no one but Grimm would be able to see and he knew it may not happen again. But he will encourage it as much as possible.
The Wyrm was beautiful, a creature of pure power that focused it on Hallownest. But if Grimm was to be honest, he found the Pale King more interesting. These moments were it was not about what he created but him, a struggle to understand what he did not have experience with, trying. Failing and learning. Expanding the self.
An aching, useless flaw that was the Pale King's alone. A cog in the machine that does not yet have a use, but perhaps one day it will. And that, Grimm thinks, makes the Pale King's form much more beautiful to the Troupe Master then the Wyrm ever was.]
Perhaps. But bugs change as time flows. My scarlet eyes cannot see the future, my friend.
[Grimm can see the lands of the dead and dying, even if some places in Hallownest remained an unknown. But in particular Grimm means he cannot see his own future like the Pale King can.
The Lantern possibly broken, the nightmare ended. But when Grimm dies and his child grows, who knows, really, if they would be willing to come back if the Pale King called.
They will not be the same God that the Pale King met. No version of "Grimm" has ever been the same and never will be.
Gently he rests his hands on the King's shoulders and smiles a little. It is not flashy like it normally is, a quiet fire that not many see.]
There is always a choice. [Always.] But it is yours alone.
[To follow the things he sees, regardless of what must be done to reach that point.
To give into these emotions and chose something else, the unknown.
Grimm can offer counsel if desired but it will be the Pale King's choice in the end.]
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It's yet another thing he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand that inherent fascination with not only him, but those flaws and cracks and moments where he is not as unfeeling and unfaltering as he projects.
He doesn't understand that concept of finding it beautiful, either. It was not something he had ever truly needed a word for; it was his subjects, those who admired his works, that instilled that concept in his head. What he created simply was, and functioned, and functioned well, and that was as close to comprehending beauty as he ever got, or desired to get.
(A vessel built to command, to build, to rule a kingdom does not need to feel to do it. In his old body, his old existence, he had judged it so.
But it seems that even this plan, this process he had once thought perfect, had its errors. Just not where he could see them.
He had not thought that putting his mind into something mortal, something closer and smaller, would change the mind itself. Shape it, without noticing, into something just as strange and separated to his old, shed self as the Wyrm was to mortal bugs and other gods.)
He just sighs, this time. A slight (unneeded) exhale. This, on the other hand, sounds tired. ]
So you continue to tell me.
[ And, as if he's only just noticed that Grimm's constant physical contact (as if he's not just letting it happen all the time), he glances to the side, to where one of the Troupe Master's hands rests on his shoulder. ] Are you always this insistent on touching everyone you talk to?
[ There's no judgement in his voice. Once again, his feelings, if they can be called that, are simple, almost childish things. Basic curiosity.
Is it a way to try and change the subject? Is it a simple observation of what's happening? Both? ]
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But there was a beauty in those flames, something that would be lost if they were restrained in the name of perfection. They were damaging, tiring and sometimes Grimm would sleep for a long time until woken again, by call or by music. But he bore them as well as he could, by breed, role and care.
All the way until the end.
Still, the damaging flaws of these flames were something he would always bare. It is the same as the flaws of the Pale King that Grimm took delight in seeing. Perhaps many preferred to see a perfect statue but the Troupe Master found the odd warps and bents lent a personal touch, something that no one else could replicate.
Grimm can see the Pale King in these flaws and what he may become. For better or for worse...as it was with everyone else.
The Troupe Master chuckles at the Pale King's observation and answers the simple question.]
Only those I cherish.
[In turn, is Grimm aware that is a loaded statement? Is he simply being blunt? Yes.]
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He is strong already, the Nightmare King; he could be so much stronger. Burning brightly, as terrible and powerful as his estranged sister was.
He does not understand why a god sees fit to lock himself away, why that power is masked and muzzled. (Though, in some ways, pushing away what little emotions he has - seeing them as a painful inconvenience - is the first step to beginning to comprehend it.
The heart has such power, after all. More than he could ever imagine, as he is right now.)
Another quiet, irritable clicking sound. He shakes his head at that statement, more like he is trying to rid himself of something bothering him than true disagreement.
It's not something he can disagree with, in any case; he has no control over what others say.
(Well, he does, but not with Grimm. Grimm will talk about things whether the Pale King wants it or not, and trying to dodge or ignore the topic only seems to encourage him.
Irritating.
But a small part of him - that flawed part he has long ignored - is oddly pleased, in its own way. Something for him to clash against, to learn from, to strive to understand and fail and gain more understanding still.)
Were this any other time, this conversation would have already ended; the Pale King would have dismissed Grimm or otherwise indicated he no longer desired his presence.
But he tolerates being touched, and he tolerates him being there, and perhaps 'tolerates' is too distant of a word for what this is. Perhaps, without noticing, it never really was the right word. ]
You pick strange things to cherish, then.
I do not understand why you are so fascinated with such imperfections.
[ Is he trying to force a change of topic, or is he referring to himself? For all that bugs speak highly of the Pale King, he rarely has anything to say about himself as an individual; only what actions he will take. Perhaps it's more telling than he wants it to be that he only speaks of himself when things are irritating, when he sees them as flaws and errors to be erased. ]
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Nightmare King Grimm would not care.
Likely the Pale King was aware of that.
But he does not dwell on it, to focused on the topic at hand. The smile on his face shows that Grimm can indeed read between the lines of what is and is not said. If the Pale King did not want something, he would have long since ended things. This conversation would be over, Grimm's hands would not be on him. The Troupe Master merrily danced over these lines and went where most dared not with their monarch, but he knew when not to push and when the Pale King meant enough was enough.
He may have not intended for things to go this far, yes, but he still chose to question it. Forge forward with something he considered an annoyance at best but forge forward he did.
A strange thing to cherish, yes. But Grimm has no regrets. It was the strange and unique that often produced the most spectacular flames.]
I enjoy them simply because they are fascinating. It is not a lie when I say it would be difficult for even myself to explain the desire to see it.
[Well, that is not quite true. Grimm could not explain it with words alone. But he could certainly show, if the Pale King was willing.]
I could show you, but I would have to request something that may be difficult for you, my dear friend.
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It's not something he would be pleased about, but that is simply how gods are; they will for something to happen, and by fire or will it happens. It is something he understands.
(It is something he innately understood, until he became more vulnerable, more mortal, and now he finds it...troubling?
Hallownest is in truth a kingdom formed because...he thought he could. He had the power, so why should he not? But lately, the thought of it being destroyed is...disquieting. It's strange. He becomes restless, driven. Protective?
Such feelings, if that is what they truly are, have never happened before.)
He simply sighs at Grimm's words. If the Troupe Master saw fit to tell him that, then clearly it was going to be something he likely found amusing and the Pale King did not. ]
What did you have in mind.
[ ...And yet, he still agrees to it, implicitly. Bothers to engage with it at all. ]
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[Following the Grimm Troupe would be a difficult task for any ordinary bug but this is the Pale King. Through dreams and nightmares, he would follow if he so chose.
Just as he could chose to allow Grimm to stay or banish him forever. That choice would always be in the Pale King's hands.
But Grimm has his reasons to extend this offer to the Pale King beyond his own amusement at the possibility of seeing the Wyrm like a fish out of water in a land that was not Hallownest.
Exposure to the dead and dying often made one see just how beautiful life is, flaws and all.]
Perhaps you will find an answer there. Or something new to experiment with.
[Both are options.]
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