[Grimm has more matches so they do not have to worry about running out before they run out of fireworks.
He does not need matches anyway. Grimm kneels and presses the fuse between two fingers. The heat generated from him naturally is enough to light it and he watches with a sad smile as it rockets up into the sky and explodes in a shower of red.]
For the Troupe.
[For Grimm, it is what is not here that he misses. Going back home is a death sentence for him but it always has been. He misses the Troupe regardless of the fate left for him.
He picks another firework and hands it to the Knight.]
Go on. It is not the same as saying good-bye in person, but I feel we can give them a well-deserved send off.
[ They've known, they've always known -- Grimm never travels without his Troupe, so he must be missing them. Regardless of what waits for him, in the end.
Rather than light the one they've been given, rather than dedicate it to anyone they're missing (too many to count, an emptiness in them that cannot be filled), they look up at him for a moment and then choose another firework themselves.
It explodes in red fire, soaring across the sky. They watch it go, light flickering across their blank face.
Grimm could assure the Knight that they would meet again. Even the Void was not free of nightmares as it was the regrets of all. Shadows breed nightmares, which call the Troupe to it and who knows how long it would be before the nightmare of the Vessels' birth would fade. The Radiance had perished and they were all to free to rest. But victory over an enemy did not mean all the scars would be healed.
And Grimm knew it would not be 'him' if they met again. The Knight has completed the Ritual and the end was still waiting for the Troupe Master. He would have long burned away and it may be his child, or his child's children, that meet the Knight again.
This world allowed them to say both hello and good-bye. But the inevitable was so. Grimm had never once fought against it.
He picks out a few fireworks and sets them off. White for the Vessels, red for the fact that the Knight was and will always be part of the Troupe. His and their existences have never been quiet. A farewell should not be either.]
[ Everything has always been loud. A force to act against, a force to fight for, or with; the roar of their siblings felt rather than heard, the scream of the Radiance, the endless drumming beat of the Nightmare Heart. The endless noise of this long dream, their friends and family, their voices.
Rather than answer, or busy themselves with other fireworks, they crawl to his side, tucking themselves under his cloak. Leaning against his chest; like so many times before, when they've woken in the middle of the night, unsettled by their own memories, they sit silent and listen to the beating of his heart.
[They come to him and Grimm closes his eyes, finding their hands to hold and just letting his heart beat. A rhythm that rarely changes. Some incarnations of him found comfort in that, something to listen to when the world became too noisy and the weight of the chains too heavy.
Perhaps the Knight found that same sort of comfort.]
It would be presumptuous of me to assume how you feel by their departure. But if you have any regrets or more to say, I am here.
[Anything that comes to mind. He has learned how to speak with his hands and would wait for them to find their voice to say how they feel.]
[ There are some things that are obvious, unspoken, too heavy; they miss their sibling, they miss familiar faces. They like this world - this dream - but they know it's not theirs.
The god had said, after all, that nothing would be changed when they returned. It's a chance, but not a change of fate.
Nothing can change that.
Instead of speaking the way they're used to, the way that's become second nature (the way they were taught, by kind strangers who have become dear to them), they ponder his words a while longer.
All the words they want to say are to those who never arrived, or those who are now gone. Instead, they take his hand in both of theirs, and...hesitate.
They've never figured out what they want to say, or how to say it. But if they wait any longer, maybe they won't be able to say it at all; it will drown in silence.
Finally, clumsy, they turn his hand over, palm up. Tracing the word into his hand before they can stop themselves. It feels quieter that way, something that only he can feel, even if nobody is there to witness it.
[It is rare that Grimm is stunned into silence and the Knight is one of the few who get to see that.
He knows that is a word the Knight has nothing but bad memories attached to. Like it or not, the Pale King was their father but he abandoned all of his children and did not deserve to be called a parent. He tainted that word for them with his actions and if they never used it again no one should fault them for it.
But despite it all, they still want to...call him father. All fires burn with the knowledge they will one day run out of kindling. Grimm's existence is that of a God endlessly burning bright and dying out. They know this.
But this is what they want, regardless.
Grimm closes his hands around the Knight's as he tries to work out something - anything - to say. But eventually...he just gives up and hugs them.]
My child...thank you. For everything you have given me.
[For making this life shine so brightly. For giving Brumm someone to listen to his worries. For entertaining Divine's whims. For loving the Grimmchild.
For giving the world of Hallownest one more chance.]
...if you are willing, there is something I wish to say. If that is fine with you.
[ The silence stretches on long enough that they begin to feel anxious. They tense. If they've done something wrong -- if they've made a mistake, or been too forward...
"My child," he says, at last, and they lean their head back against his chest once more. They're surprised at how much it makes them feel; happiness and pain, all at once.
With the little they'd known of him, back then, it had been a flight of fancy, some fleeting dream. To be cared for as they'd seen him care for his child, knowing it wasn't for them, still desiring to know it anyway.
To be able to say this, to have it be accepted. To know him well enough to say it at all, to fight with their own hesitations and win...
They are happy, they think. Grateful, for this chance they've been given.
(And even though he is transient, aren't they transient, too? A vessel destined to burn, a ghost fated to disappear.
Isn't it fitting?)
He has something he wants to say. They finally adjust themselves to look up at him, and nod. ]
[It is fitting. Like the grains of time both parent and child fade away eventually. Clogging up the hourglass was not something either of them desired, having seen the horrific actions two Gods took in an effort for their legacies to end. Perhaps the desire to linger among those who still lived was within them both but Grimm and the Knight knew their fates were to pass through as shadows and no more.
It is not as bleak as it may sound.]
We will fade from this place, one day. [Grimm knows the Knight knows, but it is where he wanted to start.] There should never be an everlasting dream.
But there are some good things to come from it all. The lives you have touched, the hearts you have burned yourself in shine brightly. Time will erode these memories eventually, as it will for those you met in Hallownest. We will eventually fade, the shape, the flame.
[Even for Grimm, he heard stories of his incarnations and the stories were never the same twice. He remembered each self perfectly but that was not something afforded to mortals.
Yet--]
But the dance will remain. Your courage, your love. Here and there. The beautiful love you gave everyone will not be forgotten, my child.
[Long clawed fingers fold themselves over the Knight's chest, where their heart was - and Grimm would defend to the death that they had one no matter what their creator may say.]
...he is still here, is he not?
[He remembers their Shadow, the looming figure who easily dwarfed the Knight much like their father's dark legacy would. Some scars go bone-deep and such a monster would not fade into the past so easily.]
If he is and becomes to loud, remember this. You are loved. All of your flaws, all of your perfections and everything in-between. Everyone here and back home loves you. Never forget this, my dear Knight.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He does not need matches anyway. Grimm kneels and presses the fuse between two fingers. The heat generated from him naturally is enough to light it and he watches with a sad smile as it rockets up into the sky and explodes in a shower of red.]
For the Troupe.
[For Grimm, it is what is not here that he misses. Going back home is a death sentence for him but it always has been. He misses the Troupe regardless of the fate left for him.
He picks another firework and hands it to the Knight.]
Go on. It is not the same as saying good-bye in person, but I feel we can give them a well-deserved send off.
no subject
Rather than light the one they've been given, rather than dedicate it to anyone they're missing (too many to count, an emptiness in them that cannot be filled), they look up at him for a moment and then choose another firework themselves.
It explodes in red fire, soaring across the sky. They watch it go, light flickering across their blank face.
They didn't get to say goodbye then - not to him.
So maybe all they can do is say it now. ]
no subject
Grimm could assure the Knight that they would meet again. Even the Void was not free of nightmares as it was the regrets of all. Shadows breed nightmares, which call the Troupe to it and who knows how long it would be before the nightmare of the Vessels' birth would fade. The Radiance had perished and they were all to free to rest. But victory over an enemy did not mean all the scars would be healed.
And Grimm knew it would not be 'him' if they met again. The Knight has completed the Ritual and the end was still waiting for the Troupe Master. He would have long burned away and it may be his child, or his child's children, that meet the Knight again.
This world allowed them to say both hello and good-bye. But the inevitable was so. Grimm had never once fought against it.
He picks out a few fireworks and sets them off. White for the Vessels, red for the fact that the Knight was and will always be part of the Troupe. His and their existences have never been quiet. A farewell should not be either.]
It is difficult to say farewell, is it not?
no subject
Rather than answer, or busy themselves with other fireworks, they crawl to his side, tucking themselves under his cloak. Leaning against his chest; like so many times before, when they've woken in the middle of the night, unsettled by their own memories, they sit silent and listen to the beating of his heart.
Yes. It is difficult.
That much they have always known. ]
no subject
Perhaps the Knight found that same sort of comfort.]
It would be presumptuous of me to assume how you feel by their departure. But if you have any regrets or more to say, I am here.
[Anything that comes to mind. He has learned how to speak with his hands and would wait for them to find their voice to say how they feel.]
no subject
The god had said, after all, that nothing would be changed when they returned. It's a chance, but not a change of fate.
Nothing can change that.
Instead of speaking the way they're used to, the way that's become second nature (the way they were taught, by kind strangers who have become dear to them), they ponder his words a while longer.
All the words they want to say are to those who never arrived, or those who are now gone. Instead, they take his hand in both of theirs, and...hesitate.
They've never figured out what they want to say, or how to say it. But if they wait any longer, maybe they won't be able to say it at all; it will drown in silence.
Finally, clumsy, they turn his hand over, palm up. Tracing the word into his hand before they can stop themselves. It feels quieter that way, something that only he can feel, even if nobody is there to witness it.
Father,
they say, and then stop,
resting their hand in his. ]
no subject
He knows that is a word the Knight has nothing but bad memories attached to. Like it or not, the Pale King was their father but he abandoned all of his children and did not deserve to be called a parent. He tainted that word for them with his actions and if they never used it again no one should fault them for it.
But despite it all, they still want to...call him father. All fires burn with the knowledge they will one day run out of kindling. Grimm's existence is that of a God endlessly burning bright and dying out. They know this.
But this is what they want, regardless.
Grimm closes his hands around the Knight's as he tries to work out something - anything - to say. But eventually...he just gives up and hugs them.]
My child...thank you. For everything you have given me.
[For making this life shine so brightly. For giving Brumm someone to listen to his worries. For entertaining Divine's whims. For loving the Grimmchild.
For giving the world of Hallownest one more chance.]
...if you are willing, there is something I wish to say. If that is fine with you.
no subject
"My child," he says, at last, and they lean their head back against his chest once more. They're surprised at how much it makes them feel; happiness and pain, all at once.
With the little they'd known of him, back then, it had been a flight of fancy, some fleeting dream. To be cared for as they'd seen him care for his child, knowing it wasn't for them, still desiring to know it anyway.
To be able to say this, to have it be accepted. To know him well enough to say it at all, to fight with their own hesitations and win...
They are happy, they think. Grateful, for this chance they've been given.
(And even though he is transient, aren't they transient, too? A vessel destined to burn, a ghost fated to disappear.
Isn't it fitting?)
He has something he wants to say. They finally adjust themselves to look up at him, and nod. ]
no subject
It is not as bleak as it may sound.]
We will fade from this place, one day. [Grimm knows the Knight knows, but it is where he wanted to start.] There should never be an everlasting dream.
But there are some good things to come from it all. The lives you have touched, the hearts you have burned yourself in shine brightly. Time will erode these memories eventually, as it will for those you met in Hallownest. We will eventually fade, the shape, the flame.
[Even for Grimm, he heard stories of his incarnations and the stories were never the same twice. He remembered each self perfectly but that was not something afforded to mortals.
Yet--]
But the dance will remain. Your courage, your love. Here and there. The beautiful love you gave everyone will not be forgotten, my child.
[Long clawed fingers fold themselves over the Knight's chest, where their heart was - and Grimm would defend to the death that they had one no matter what their creator may say.]
...he is still here, is he not?
[He remembers their Shadow, the looming figure who easily dwarfed the Knight much like their father's dark legacy would. Some scars go bone-deep and such a monster would not fade into the past so easily.]
If he is and becomes to loud, remember this. You are loved. All of your flaws, all of your perfections and everything in-between. Everyone here and back home loves you. Never forget this, my dear Knight.