![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
the echo of a voided heart
Title: the echo of a voided heart
Fandom: Hollow Knight
Character(s): Knight, Quirrel, Millibelle
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 1,070
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: The Knight is locked inside a treasure box, and then rescued.
Notes: This fic was originally titled 'if it fits, I sits' and then got 50x more emotional.
They’ve fallen into the habit of climbing into treasure boxes.
It’s the easiest way to make sure they don’t miss any Geo hidden in the corners. It’s not cramped at all, and though their head barely pokes out above the chest’s sides, they’ve never had any trouble climbing back out again.
This particular chest, hidden in an out-of-the-way corner of Fog Canyon, has a lot of Geo crammed into its corners. Even the Knight has to bend down to pick all of them up.
They hear someone’s steps coming closer, but obviously they can’t see them with the box’s lid in the way. The infected here don’t walk, so the Knight isn’t particularly concerned about being attacked while distracted. They’ll finish collecting the Geo before they see who it is, rather than leave and then forget.
The bug approaches, and right as the Knight is about to straighten up to find out who it is-
-the lid closes over their head.
Startled, the Knight’s first reaction is to push on the top, but it doesn’t budge. Evidently it was never meant to be opened from the inside. Their next idea is to kick the side and make some noise, but the muffled sound of footsteps is already fading away and they can’t make enough noise to get anyone’s attention.
They don’t have enough space to swing their nail with any strength behind it, and Vengeful Spirit, as usual, doesn’t damage the chest. This is something they appreciated far more when they were concerned about accidentally destroying Geo, rather than when they’re trying to escape. Neither cloak nor claw will help.
They try the Crystal Heart once, and immediately wonder why they thought launching themself face first into the box’s side at a high speed would help.
What can they do? They can bang on the top of the box to try to get attention from any other passerby, or even an Ooma or Lumafly that might break open the chest if it felt threatened. They can focus their energy when they start to get tired of banging. And they can wait.
They wait a long, long time. Long enough that even they can’t keep their focus. Long enough that they wonder if they’ll sleep here, in this dark, enclosed space. They do not fear the dark - they could not, being what they are - but being so enclosed makes the darkness feel oppressive.
After they’ve stopped banging on their ceiling and tried to find a position that was at least a tiny bit comfortable for sleep, they hear something. It could be their imagination dreaming of a rescue. It could be the acid below bubbling in a rhythm they’ve mistaken for hurried footsteps. It could be a number of things.
Or, it could be the lid of the box being opened once again, and Quirrel peering down at them.
“What a strange place you’ve chosen to pass the time, my friend,” he says, while the Knight climbs out of the chest as quickly as they can manage with unused and aching limbs. “Have I ruined your game of hide and seek? I apologize-”
They hug him.
They don’t know why, exactly. They’ve seen hugs but never hugged someone themself. It doesn’t seem like it should be an instinctive reaction, and yet they didn’t even think about it before clinging to him.
After a moment’s surprise, Quirrel gently hugs them in return. It’s warm - they didn’t realize it would be warm. “Were you trapped in there?”
They nod, not letting go of him just yet.
“I’m so sorry. It must have been terribly frightening. But you’re free now.”
They take another second to just enjoy the warmth, then step back. It would be too much to ask for longer, they think, and besides - they tilt their head in an obvious question.
“…Ah? Do you want to know what I’m doing here?” Quirrel asks.
Nod.
“It’s the same as ever for me - I felt drawn to the place. Although, rarely has the draw been so urgent. I wonder if…” He trails off, then shakes his head. “Would you like company on the trip back up to Dirtmouth? I can’t imagine you want to be alone so soon.”
They shake their head, then draw their gleaming nail to show him. They won’t get locked in any more chests, and they can defend themselves from enemies, so Quirrel doesn’t have to stay with them.
Quirrel gently pushes their hand to the side. “Let me rephrase that. I don’t want you to be alone so soon. Please allow me to accompany you, at least long enough to settle my own concerns.”
If he insists, then they don’t mind. They still don’t know why it’s necessary, but they do like having him around. Maybe more than usual, right now.
The next day, they find Quirrel and Millibelle in what looks like a tense conversation.
“Really, dear, I’m sorry for all the trouble, but you can’t expect me to check every single box before I close it, and all these chests left open make the place an awful mess, so…” Millibelle is inching away from him.
“Cleaning up is your justification?” The Knight hasn’t seen Quirrel this angry before. “If I hadn’t felt them calling for help, they might still be trapped in there-”
“D-dearie! How nice to see you safe and well!” She calls out to the Knight, looking no less nervous. “Dreadfully sorry about that mess with the box, but surely we can let bygones be bygones, yes?”
They think for a second, just long enough for her to start inching away again as Quirrel radiates even more anger. Then they nod. Ignoring her sigh of relief, they tug at Quirrel’s arm.
“You’re perhaps too forgiving, my friend.” Still, Quirrel allows them to lead him away until the bank and banker are out of sight.
They stop then, but rather than let go of Quirrel’s hand, they press it over their chest. If they had a beating heart, it would be here.
The Knight doesn’t know the words. Even if they had a voice, they still wouldn’t be able to express the feeling that threatens to burst out of them. It’s happiness, but not quite, or relief, but more than that.
They called for help, and someone came.
This time it’s him who hugs them first. It feels even warmer this way.
Fandom: Hollow Knight
Character(s): Knight, Quirrel, Millibelle
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 1,070
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: The Knight is locked inside a treasure box, and then rescued.
Notes: This fic was originally titled 'if it fits, I sits' and then got 50x more emotional.
They’ve fallen into the habit of climbing into treasure boxes.
It’s the easiest way to make sure they don’t miss any Geo hidden in the corners. It’s not cramped at all, and though their head barely pokes out above the chest’s sides, they’ve never had any trouble climbing back out again.
This particular chest, hidden in an out-of-the-way corner of Fog Canyon, has a lot of Geo crammed into its corners. Even the Knight has to bend down to pick all of them up.
They hear someone’s steps coming closer, but obviously they can’t see them with the box’s lid in the way. The infected here don’t walk, so the Knight isn’t particularly concerned about being attacked while distracted. They’ll finish collecting the Geo before they see who it is, rather than leave and then forget.
The bug approaches, and right as the Knight is about to straighten up to find out who it is-
-the lid closes over their head.
Startled, the Knight’s first reaction is to push on the top, but it doesn’t budge. Evidently it was never meant to be opened from the inside. Their next idea is to kick the side and make some noise, but the muffled sound of footsteps is already fading away and they can’t make enough noise to get anyone’s attention.
They don’t have enough space to swing their nail with any strength behind it, and Vengeful Spirit, as usual, doesn’t damage the chest. This is something they appreciated far more when they were concerned about accidentally destroying Geo, rather than when they’re trying to escape. Neither cloak nor claw will help.
They try the Crystal Heart once, and immediately wonder why they thought launching themself face first into the box’s side at a high speed would help.
What can they do? They can bang on the top of the box to try to get attention from any other passerby, or even an Ooma or Lumafly that might break open the chest if it felt threatened. They can focus their energy when they start to get tired of banging. And they can wait.
They wait a long, long time. Long enough that even they can’t keep their focus. Long enough that they wonder if they’ll sleep here, in this dark, enclosed space. They do not fear the dark - they could not, being what they are - but being so enclosed makes the darkness feel oppressive.
After they’ve stopped banging on their ceiling and tried to find a position that was at least a tiny bit comfortable for sleep, they hear something. It could be their imagination dreaming of a rescue. It could be the acid below bubbling in a rhythm they’ve mistaken for hurried footsteps. It could be a number of things.
Or, it could be the lid of the box being opened once again, and Quirrel peering down at them.
“What a strange place you’ve chosen to pass the time, my friend,” he says, while the Knight climbs out of the chest as quickly as they can manage with unused and aching limbs. “Have I ruined your game of hide and seek? I apologize-”
They hug him.
They don’t know why, exactly. They’ve seen hugs but never hugged someone themself. It doesn’t seem like it should be an instinctive reaction, and yet they didn’t even think about it before clinging to him.
After a moment’s surprise, Quirrel gently hugs them in return. It’s warm - they didn’t realize it would be warm. “Were you trapped in there?”
They nod, not letting go of him just yet.
“I’m so sorry. It must have been terribly frightening. But you’re free now.”
They take another second to just enjoy the warmth, then step back. It would be too much to ask for longer, they think, and besides - they tilt their head in an obvious question.
“…Ah? Do you want to know what I’m doing here?” Quirrel asks.
Nod.
“It’s the same as ever for me - I felt drawn to the place. Although, rarely has the draw been so urgent. I wonder if…” He trails off, then shakes his head. “Would you like company on the trip back up to Dirtmouth? I can’t imagine you want to be alone so soon.”
They shake their head, then draw their gleaming nail to show him. They won’t get locked in any more chests, and they can defend themselves from enemies, so Quirrel doesn’t have to stay with them.
Quirrel gently pushes their hand to the side. “Let me rephrase that. I don’t want you to be alone so soon. Please allow me to accompany you, at least long enough to settle my own concerns.”
If he insists, then they don’t mind. They still don’t know why it’s necessary, but they do like having him around. Maybe more than usual, right now.
The next day, they find Quirrel and Millibelle in what looks like a tense conversation.
“Really, dear, I’m sorry for all the trouble, but you can’t expect me to check every single box before I close it, and all these chests left open make the place an awful mess, so…” Millibelle is inching away from him.
“Cleaning up is your justification?” The Knight hasn’t seen Quirrel this angry before. “If I hadn’t felt them calling for help, they might still be trapped in there-”
“D-dearie! How nice to see you safe and well!” She calls out to the Knight, looking no less nervous. “Dreadfully sorry about that mess with the box, but surely we can let bygones be bygones, yes?”
They think for a second, just long enough for her to start inching away again as Quirrel radiates even more anger. Then they nod. Ignoring her sigh of relief, they tug at Quirrel’s arm.
“You’re perhaps too forgiving, my friend.” Still, Quirrel allows them to lead him away until the bank and banker are out of sight.
They stop then, but rather than let go of Quirrel’s hand, they press it over their chest. If they had a beating heart, it would be here.
The Knight doesn’t know the words. Even if they had a voice, they still wouldn’t be able to express the feeling that threatens to burst out of them. It’s happiness, but not quite, or relief, but more than that.
They called for help, and someone came.
This time it’s him who hugs them first. It feels even warmer this way.