Chapter Text
When the Black Egg temple was sealed around her, it was like all the air got sucked out. She couldn't get up, she couldn't lift a claw, couldn't even breathe.
The view of the little ghost become rapidly obstructed by the large metallic chains, but nothing could hide that sickeningly orange glow emanating from their sockets. It's spasming, struggling, fighting to be released from the void inside the vessel.
'They really did it...' a naively hopeful thought comes. She wants to believe her sacrifice would be an honorable one, but doubt creeps in. The stasis would be perpetuated, but who can say if the ghost would last any longer then her other half-sibling.
Something else was wrong. The orange glow she expected to subside pulses brighter and brighter still, each heart beat earning a metallic rattling from the chains. When the first crack appeared on the vessel's mask, horrifying realization set in.
A light broken across layers of existence, both dream and physical, as if it's true form shined through a prism to realities- being abstracted to forms they could comprehend. A light being confined, desperate to escape somewhere, anywhere. The only things standing in it's way were the vessel and... her. She was now certain, the Black Egg temple was being reinforced with her own life force.
A second, larger crack almost tore her sibling's mask in half, orange light almost bursting at the seams. She feels her heart clenching in panic, even if she can't see any signs of distress on them.
They're braver than her, she admits. She doesn't want it to end.
"I'm sorry, mom" She whispers.
Preparing for the worst, Hornet shuts her eyes tightly, and a deafening explosion makes everything go to white.
It probably should have worried Moon. For days her overseers just kept coming, all of them reporting the increasing amounts of washed up deceased fauna on her shores, the most concerning of which were the king vultures- with their signature horns missing.
The weathered island of rusted scrap was as cold and barren as it was for countless cycles, it was uncomfortable, sure, but for a long while the cycles wore on her more emotionally then physically.
The point was, any change was welcomed, and though she felt pity for the wildlife, she found herself more curious then afraid. The only creature she's ever seen go toe to toe with those terrifying avians disappeared a few thousands cycles ago and Moon has not seen any of its kind since.
She really hopes the little archaeologist found what it was looking for, though what that is exactly she is still not sure. As much as she adored her old friend- they were not much of a conversationalist. Not one for any exchange but listening intently to her ramblings, that is.
This current "Mystery Hunter" could very well turn out to be another slug-like-rodent, perhaps even a messenger from her local group?
"Stop it." she silently reprimands, false hope will give her nothing but grief, and she does not know how much more of it she can handle.
Moon leaned forward from the scrap heap, her hand waving forward (with some effort, embarrassingly)- sending the commend for the yellow overseer on the wall to play the footage from the start.
She has to be missing something.
When the two red dots appeared between her black eyes, Hornet once again almost missed her dying kingdom.
She has never expected to encounter beasts who wield needle and thread (other then her mother- that is) but years of practice lead to the combat maneuvers feeling like second nature.
At the same moment as the ear piecing shot echoed out, she took an almost casual step to her left while swinging her needle widely to the right. The almost metallic threads, snapping easily, leaving the needles (or were they horns?) wedged in the ground, separated from their wielder.
She kept hoping any rational beast will realize the predicament they have clearly found themselves in, and maybe reconsider their meal choice. But whether from stupidity- or just blatant disregard to any sense of self preservation, these fathered hazards always followed up by diving mask first to where she stood, a truly masterful gambit.
Pulling on the flailing wires, their momentum and mass quickly failed them when they collided with the harsh ground of these shores, and often with their own horns. A few dashes here and a few jabs there were usually enough finish it quickly. Hornet would like to think she is saving them both the pain and the embarrassment.
While catching her breath, she took a quick look at the foggy grey sky. The rain almost got her last time. Well, frankly, it almost got her every time.
'A city of wailing' she joked. Or at least, maybe it was once a city, metallic scrap was dispersed everywhere, some with mechanisms so complex she couldn't even begin to imagine what their functions would be. She thought she had seen decay before, but this place was destroyed beyond recognition, (no thanks to that incessant rain, she supposes).
Speaking of, she should really find somewhere safe for the encroaching storm. Hornet looks behind her at the pipe leading down into the earth, and cringes. If it weren't for the vast sky and ocean, she could see the resemblance to the Royal Waterways. She would really prefer to stay out of that sewage, thank you very much.
Climbing a long rebar-like pole, she balanced on the top with the tips of her legs, her slightly dirtied dress shifting in the cold breeze. She guesses things could be worse. She guesses she could be dead.
Why isn't she?
The fog isn't making scouting ahead very easy, but she manages to spot it. A gigantic half submerged structure sticking out of the ocean- barely visible through the mist. Not the most comforting of landmarks, but beggars really can't be choosers.
Her needle launches ahead, and she follows quickly behind it.
Pause. There.
Moon scoots forward, dragging the large creaking metal arm forward with her. The blurry, yellowed, digital hologram is not exactly the peak of surveillance, so she sticks her head as close to it as she can manage and narrows her eyes at the smudged pixels.
It's a figure, alright.
One with a white face and two dark eyes. The ears seem stretched- a result of digital artifacting, no doubt. But that's a familiar face. Could it even be them? She does not know enough about her archaeologist's kind. It's wearing something too, some sort of fabric, though the hue is entirely lost on her, filtered through the yellow recording. The rest of the figure was either blurred by the rapid motion, or hidden beneath that fabric.
She can't help the excitement bubbling inside her, she had no one to talk to in ages. She might finally be able to rid herself of this awful lonely emptiness. Any sort of communication will do, even if one sided. She could settle for a listening ear, anything.
A part of her feels pathetic. like a piece of scrap the world forgot about. She knows the local group cares, but it's been so long... have they moved on?
No, no. They'd never do that to her, would they? But then again, what does she even expects them to do, they are as much trapped in themselves as she is.
Suddenly she feels it again, this crushing wave of choking emptiness. Of loneliness. More heavy then she felt collapsing under her own structure's weight, and more suffocating then the flood of stolen water that fills her chamber every single cycle.
Her puppet begins to shake, that's strange isn't it? She tries to focus on her unsteady hands, but her vision begins to blur. Something is seriously wrong with her.
And then. she. hears.
a splash.
This is so stupid.
Hornet managed to navigate the entire semi-submerged structure with relative ease, and (most importantly) while avoiding the standing musty water filled with mud and debris.
Her needle had plenty of footholds, and the moist metallic pipes were... tolerable. In a passing thought she concluded that the rain could still get inside, if the pipes were not dry- but she was already here. Where else was she supposed to go.
Hornet just finished balancing across a long horizontal pole. The drop seemed significant, but she rather dreaded the opaque pool of murky water at the bottom. Thankfully she reached the following pipe, and a few stiff elbows later she thought she started to see light.
And that's when a yellow eyestalk shot out from the ground right near her face.
Startled, she flailed out, and immediately lost her hold on the slippery downward tilted pipe, shooting out of the end of it directly into the water. Just fantastic.
Muttering a whole slew of curses, she pulled herself from the pool, getting even more frustrated with the weight of her now drenched dress. Standing up on a pile of trash, dripping, she raised her head up look ahead and...
Black, wide eyes were staring right at her, belonging to blue shelled quadrupedal... something. It was wrapped in a simple once-white ragged fabric, while 7 floating large Lumaflies floated lazily around it.
Wait. Hornet stiffened. Was it even quadrupedal? A large prolonged leg was extended from it's back into the wall, almost as if it was a lure of a bigger entity, hiding inside the metal structure.
"Hello." The bait suddenly spoke "Eh-hello there, creature."
It's voice echoed in the vacant space, hesitant. It wore an unreadable expression, considering it's words carefully.
"I see you are on edge, and though I'm not sure if you understand me, I'd like to assure you I lack the capability- O-OR WILL, of course- to do you any harm." it's voice jumped from trying to sound reassuring, to panicked and back to forced friendliness.
Yeah, obviously unstable. Hornet would be wise to keep her guard up. Not even mentioning the gigantic and disproportional back-leg that was still throwing her off.
In either case, she clearly has been seen. Might as well stop scowling and be practical about this. Hornet reaches out and grabs as much of her soaked dress as she can, and wrings out the foul water.
when she went to reestablish eye contact with the specimen, she catches it staring at her hands, covered in black carapace.
"You... are not what I expected." it says weakly.
In response, Hornet maintains eye contact, narrows her eyes, and wrings out a large amount of water that splashes loudly against the scrap-metal ground.
It spoke again "I- I'm sorry about... the... water?" It ended the sentence looking confused at it's own words, seemingly frustrated at itself.
Unable to stop, though, it continued "It's just, my can is in quite a sorry state, and I am unfortunately unable to..."
"Oh Wyrm, would you stop already?" Hornet couldn't help but say.
That took it back a bit, the black eyes widening, "You talk!" It exclaimed with a frankly worrying amount of shock.
"When I choose to." Hornet responded with venom in her voice.
It didn't seem to know what to say to that.
Hornet tilted her head to the side. Examining the large metal limb. Assuming it's truly attached to that wall, it would not be able to reach where she currently stands even if fully extended.
She lifts her arms and stretches upward, before dropping to a seating position. The act seem to lower the tension in the blue specimen.
"What are you?" Hornet asks suspiciously, and earns a chuckle back.
"Funny, I've been wondering something similar about you." It counters. "I've never seen any creature of your species. And one that can understand and talk unassisted... Are you an ancient of some kind?"
Hornet takes her sweet time answering "Really depends." the specimen awaits for her to continue, and she pauses just long enough for it to starts squirming impatiently in place.
"Is this the future?" She finishes as casually as she can manage. Embarrassingly, that's the best theory she could come up with. She recognizes there's a great informational imbalance here, it would be best if she keeps it talking as much as possible while revealing as little as she can.
"We are approaching the end of the 34,504th local cycle, with the first beginning in 1491 comma 800 to count." The specimen says in an amused voice.
What.
"What?" she flatly asks, and frowns as the blue thing softly laughs at her expense.
"Not an ancient, then." Yep, Hornet understands even less now, yet somehow the one answering questions is gaining information. This interrogation is going swimmingly.
"And you?" Trying to keep the frustration out of her voice, she reasserts the earlier question.
"I'm called Looks To The Moon" She cheerly says. Her earlier weariness melting into something that must be... snark?
"That's neither an answer nor a name" Hornet says in annoyance, and tries to ignore the smile that sneaks into her own challenging remark.
"Rude. I'll have you know I've always been fond of it" She leans back just a bit too dramatically.
"That's just a full sentence" Hornet insists. Because it is. And a stupid chuckle rudely barges in to her words.
'Looks To The Moon' or whatever- looks at her expectantly. This is a bad idea, she knows. This vulnerability will not go unpunished, so why...
"Hornet" Her voice is raspy.
Moon beams at her with joy. "It is so wonderful to meet you, Hornet."