He's sinking, slow and gentle into this dark abyss. It feels like it should be cold, and maybe a little haunting to some people. But it's not, it's pleasent and soothing, because he's done this several times before. It's a feeling of weightlessness that nothing in consciousness can really offer. It has been a few minutes, so he knows he's almost there.
This murky blackness will eventually give way to soft and ethereal light, showering him in a peace that he can find nowhere else. He sees it now, it's just above him, and he can hardly wait to bask in the glow of it all.
It always feels like he's falling, but the light always comes from above. So maybe he's rising, it's not an exact thing.
He's almost there, just a few feet, if he were awake he'd be antsy, but he knows he really doesn't have any power here. All there is to do, is wait. And he's damn good at waiting. Finally, he just barely feels the tip of his nose hit the surface when he's taken where he needs to be.
Knuckles opens his eyes. The light of this place is bright, as it always is. And as always, he has to rub and blink his eyes a few times to adjust to it. It has never been night when he comes here, always the allusion of a perfectly clear day.
Or at least that's what he thinks it's supposed to be. Whenever he looks up, there are no clouds, in fact there isn't even a sun. The light around him is just… There, apparently needing no source here.
After his eyes are finally able to focus, Knuckles registers that he's by a pond this time. He never wakes up fully rising from the abyss, instead he awakes wherever he needs to be here. Absently, Knuckles wonders where that abyss even is, Is it close to where he is now? He's sitting gingerly on his knees, as if he's been praying, which is how he always wakes up here.
Happy aquatic chao play just under the surface of the water. They're partially see-through, making light dance around them as their forms struggle to cast shadows. Internally, Knuckles notes that this doesn't seem to bother them.
They don't pay him any mind as they chase each other around, sending ripples to the top of the pond. Knuckles isn't sure if it's because he isn't really there, or because they aren't. Or maybe he's just not interesting enough company to be worth acknowledgment. This place isn't much good for answering his questions, it never has been.
As always, he's in traditional Echidna garb. His pants are a sturdy yet breathable tan leather, framed with a protective, and decorative, long piece of fabric that splits at his sides, serving to protect the front and the back of his legs. There is white and green embroidery scattered elegantly throughout the length of material.
His shirt is is a simple work sash. It's just two strips of fabric sewn together to make a circle. Traditionally, you would wrap it around your chest, however you would like to wear it. It's a simple design, but it allows flexibility and doesn't stifle one's quills. His is wrapped in a simple criss-cross, the most common and practical way.
Conveniently, it also covers his guardian crest.
Knuckles doesn't usually dress this way, not for a long time, anyways. Before his first big debacle with Robotnik, (Don't feel guilty don't feel guilty don't feel guilty –) and meeting Sonic, this was all he wore, which of course makes sense, it's not like the Echidna temples had any stray hoodies' laying around.
Now however… And he hates to think this, because he does love his people (Loves their culture, his people are gone.) The Mobians have combat boots, and cargo pants, and cargo pants have pockets, lots of pockets. Knuckles likes pockets.
Quietly, Knuckles apologizes to his ancestors. (Maybe in this place they can actually hear him.)
Little yellow flowers have started to sprout around him, something he's always enjoyed when he comes here. He's not sure why it happens, but he likes the idea that he's sharing a bit of his life force with the space around him. It's just a theory,
but Knuckles thinks it's a nice sentiment.
Little phantom birds have started to chirp around him, he never sees them, but still they sing every time. He's unsure why they never show themselves to him, but their song is pretty, so Knuckles is content to listen. The reason for their excitement finally comes into view to his left.
Tikal, who has a special glow of her own, is pattering towards him daintily. The edge of her dress is dragging through the pond, unsettling it's surface and soaking through the expensive fabric. By Echidna standards, her clothes are formal, as if she's preparing to dance at a festival, or lead a feast.
But with the way she carries herself, it may as well be a simple sundress to her, so casual in it, she doesn't pay any mind to the ruined silks.
Really, Knuckles can't blame her. If he were stuck living in the Master Emerald for all eternity, he would want to look a little nice whenever someone comes to visit. She's a petite echidna, (or maybe she's normal and he's strange, it's not like there's anyone to compare her to.) She died young, and she hasn't changed since.
Well, she didn't really die per say, but losing your corporeal body to reside in the Master is still pretty close. Despite her appearance, she carries herself with a casual wisdom, as if she's been alive for centuries. (And she has.)
She smiles at him when they make eye contact, in that sweet, affectionate way she does. He wants to bow, because she's lady Tikal, tamer of Chaos and the overseer of this ethereal plane, grace itself, and he's just –
Well, anyway, she's told him several times he doesn't have to, and when he still did it, she told him she doesn't want him to. Still, he does not like being above her. Which is really hard to counteract because he has been way, way taller than her for years.
Even as she sits down beside him, on her knees, like him, (Facing him, because she knows he won't make eye contact otherwise.) And while the flowers around him are growing at a steady pace, the flowers that start to grow around her as she sits sprout and grow too fast for him to enjoy their beauty. They live and die in just a matter of seconds, the shear magnitude of power inside her accelerating their life cycle.
Unlike with him, the Chao acknowledge her, chirping and squealing under the water. She only regards them for a second, waving her hand at them, then resting it back in her lap.
She's so much smaller than him, she would have to right herself up on the tops of her knees just to reach his shoulder.
Usually he just keeps his head low, but she doesn't like that either, so he swallows down his discomfort and smiles back at her. Maybe he should be a little embarrassed by how wary she makes him. She's a comforting presence, really, he's filled with a warm fuzziness that makes him feel safe whenever he's around her. But that doesn't shake the subtle coolness just under his chest.
In all honesty, Knuckles has not been here very often. Enough times that he understands the routine, but not enough to say he knows anything substantial about the Echidna next to him. Just like the rest of this place, she is a walking mystery.
He knows the story, her story. She showed it to him in great detail. He knows how this whole mess started. But he doesn't know anything about her, this her. The her that lives inside the M.E, keeping Chaos in check. She watches over him, too, just as he watches over the Master, but Knuckles has been hit with enough blows to know she can't protect him.
Or, maybe she can, and just won't. Which is fine, he can't expect her to meddle with the affairs of the world outside this place. Her job is here, not out there. Besides, Knuckles isn't sure he would want her help. As her duty is to watch over Chaos, it's his to keep the balance, and abusing the power he's meant to protect, for his own personal gain, isn't an option.
In his favor or not, he can't (Won't) distort the balance between Chaos and Order. So, he's never asked her about it.
Tikal places a hand on his shoulder, and it makes him shiver. He's not used to contact, here or out there, but when she touches him he feels like his nerve endings are all buzzing at once. It's not a bad feeling, in fact, it's a nice one, a familiar one. It's the feeling of Chaos Energy, igniting under his skin, sending a surge of pure vitality jolting throughout his entire being.
He knows this feeling well. He lives side by side with the M.E, it's a sensation that never truly leaves him, because the Master is a part of him, and he's a part of it. He knows he's got plenty of Chaos Energy all on his own, years with the artifact is ample time to absorb more than what most Mobians could handle. Thankfully, he's not most Mobians. He's Knuckles, a Guardian, and the only one left.
But living with the Master and living in it are two very different things. Knuckles knows that his Chaos wavelength is softer and much more subtle to those who aren't looking for it. Tikal's, however, is loud and electric, so full of intensity and vigor it makes him sit a little straighter under her touch. It's so strong, Knuckles wonders if she has trouble hearing over the constant hum of power. Maybe not, the energy can't harm her, because she is energy. It's her essence.
"This kind of power at your fingertips would kill you, if you were truly alive." Knuckles muses to himself.
The feeling settles into something more benign, and now he realizes that Tikal is staring at him, her expression expectant. He's not sure what she wants from him, so he just tilts his head.
Her grin grows on her face, and she shakes her head with a giggle. Distantly, Knuckles notes that it sounds like bells chiming. She's shut her eyes, obviously something in her mind's eye needing all her focus.
Finally Tikal looks at him again, remnants of her giggle still echoing in her voice as she finally speaks.
"You know, I don't always have to be the first one to speak," She laughs again. "You can start the conversation." She finishes, looking completely unbothered, despite her words. If anything, she looks amused.
And Knuckles feels a little exposed, there's blood rushing to his cheeks and muzzle. It doesn't show through his fur, but Knuckles knows he's being very obvious about how abashed he is.
He finds and plucks at a quill, forcing his smile to stay affixed to his face. It doesn't really work, it looks more pained than pleasant. "Oh… Ha, Uh-" He successfully pulls another quill. "– Yeah, sorry, I just…" Knuckles nibbles at his bottom lip, struggling to find a good way to explain that she's a little intimidating, and that he feels like he doesn't really have any control here, or that he has no idea how any of this is supposed to work.
Sonic would just laugh and make fun of him for being awkward. The thought annoys him, and he has to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. The feeling fades, and Knuckles decides to just mirror her laugh, and he regrets it because it comes out strained, and he thinks he sounds like a frog. "… I just don't know why I'm here." This time, he doesn't say, but it's implied.
Tikal's smile falters, if only for a second, then it's back in place exactly as it was before. She has a way of letting things roll off her back, like nothing can truly phase her. Knuckles considers that she just might be good at masking it. He adds it to the pile of things he doesn't know about her.
"Ah… Yes, well…" Tikal pauses, pursing her lips and scrunching her nose for a second. She actually looks her age, making a face like that. Knuckles lets himself smile wistfully at the observation. Tikal runs a hand through her long, ribbon-braided quills. "… You can still say hello." She's looking back down at the Chao while she says it, watching them struggle to sing to her from their place under the pond.
Again, Knuckles is feeling like he's staring down a wolf… Three times his size. That's often the case when he speaks to Tikal, despite the fact that if anything, he's three times her size. He doesn't really know what to do with himself, so he fidgets with his quills some more.
She looks at him again, and Knuckles understands that the window he has to respond in a timely manner is beginning to close.
He hears a voice that sounds distinctly like Sonic's teasing him again, and he almost grumbles in Tikal's face. He corrects the impulse before it shows on his features. He scrambles to find something that could be considered an acceptable reply, and the first thing he comes up with is-
"Oh… Yeah uh, sorry…" He raises his hand and waves. "… Hello." He puts one what he thinks is a smile.
… Tikal just stares at him, face unreadable. He suddenly wants to dig a hole and hide in it for the next hundred years. He puzzles over whether or not that's possible here. Knuckles is pretty sure a solid thirty seconds passes before she reacts.
And she does react.
She inhales, and bursts out cackling. It's almost uncontrollable, how hard she's laughing. Almost. Knuckles does his best to school his expression, but he is well aware he is gaping at her. He's never seen her… Emote this much. She has a hand on her chest, struggling to take in breath as her snickers get the better of her.
The Chao, as if connected with her, are laughing too. Knuckles debates smashing the surface of the water with his fist, sending them flying. He decides not to, and settles on giving them a brief glare.
It doesn't do anything, they still don't acknowledge him, but it makes him feel a little better anyway.
Tikal, finally getting control over herself, rests her hand on his arm again. It's affectionate, and the buzzing doesn't bother him anymore. She's now looking at him with an expression that Knuckles thinks might actually be fondness. He's not certain, because he really is terrible at reading people's faces. Still, he's pretty sure he's classified this right.
Pulling her hand away to play with her braids again, Tikal breathes the last of her snickers out, blinking a few times until Knuckles sees the slight shift in her face. "Oh, Hello my sweet Guardian." At last she returns his wave with one of her own, and he feels a little soothed over the fact that she at least plays along.
A little too much time passes before Knuckles realizes that it's his turn to respond. Again, he's completely clueless, so he just asks her what he's been wondering this whole time. "So uh… Why am I here?" His tone is uncertain and clipped. Tikal looks a little disappointed, and Knuckles can feel this places' serenity struggling to shield him from the shame he feels over it.
She just shrugs her shoulders, shaking her head, as if he's the one being weird. "Oh, it's nothing really…" Tikal fixes her face when Knuckles raises his brow. "… I just wanted to see how you were doing." She finishes with a strained smile.
He's a little too blindsided to hide the stunned look on his face. What is she doing? This isn't how this works, they don't do this. She's never asked how he is before, in fact… She's connected with the Emerald, and he's connected to the Emerald. Therefore, she's connected to him. She already knows how he is!
Suspicion bubbles underneath the magic-induced calm, and he wants to narrow his eyes at Tikal. There's something swimming in her eyes, and Knuckles absolutely hates that he can't interpret what it is.
Knuckles should be worried about the implications of her words, because how terrible do things have to be for her to send for him for something like this? But by the very nature of this place, this realm, this dreamscape, whatever it is, it's very hard to feel anything other than calm. He treasures it, most of the time. It's a quick respite from the tumultuous hurricane that are his emotions when he's conscious. Though right now, he thinks having access to the full spectrum of feelings might give him a little leverage.
"Really?" He starts, finally relaxed enough in her presence to look Tikal in the eye. "You don't usually call me here for something like that." Knuckles says, plucking a stray quill from his fur while he talks.
Something flashes across Tikal's face. It's confusing and difficult to read, and Knuckles comes dangerously close to calling it guilt. The look is gone before he can make any concrete conclusions, and it's replaced with one of reservation. She makes that face when she's thinking hard on something.
She swallows. "Yes, you're right… Maybe I ought to change that…"
Tikal looks away, eyes following the Chao, who have resumed chasing each other playfully. This time, Knuckle's knows her expression. It's regret. It's a recognizable one, but it looks completely and utterly alien on Tikal's features. At least, he thinks it does. Admittedly he doesn't know enough about her to know if she makes the face often.
He doesn't know what to say. That's not new, he usually finds himself in this position, but this time, he really, really doesn't know what to say. He can't say something snarky or roll his eyes like he would with Sonic or Rouge.
So… He just stares at her. He feels completely stuck in place, frozen under her gaze. This isn't something they do, they don't just have conversations as if they're… Friends. She calls him if there is something they need to discuss pertaining to the Emerald, she calls him if the world is in grave danger and there's something he needs to know.
She calls him when he's a small, lost Echidna who has no idea who he is and what he's meant to do, she calls him so she can tell him, teach him.
She doesn't call him because she wants to know what's going on in his life.
Tikal shouldn't care, Knuckles thinks. She's basically a god, who keeps the world safe every single day just by being here. And he's… What? He's the guardian who's failed at his job more times than should be acceptable. To anyone. Especially the woman sitting next to him.
If his people were here (Which they aren't.) he can only imagine how much they would hate him. Knuckles can't even find it in himself to blame them.
She must have an angle, Knuckles just can't figure out what it is.
They're locked in to this awkward silence for quite a long while, and Knuckles doesn't intend to be the one to break it. Anxiety is starting to leak through the manufactured peace of this place and he feels the need to find another quill.
He's not making eye contact with her anymore, (He's not sure he can.) but beside him Tikal looks… Concerned? A certain uneasiness is overcoming her delicate features through furrowed brows and a crease in her forehead. Again, Knuckles wonders how utterly bad things must be, if she's making this face.
Finally mustering up the will to continue, Tikal clears her throat. "… Well, you still haven't answered me." Her tone is light, forcibly so, and Knuckles notices it's artificial nature all the more. "How are you doing, my sweet Guardian?" She asks, and this part sounds genuine. He still feels a little jarred. She actually wants to know.
… And that's a little worrying. Okay, it's a lot worrying. Because he's… Not quite sure what the answer is. She knows, he still doesn't know why she's asking, because she knows. But he doesn't, not really.
Knuckles does know that he can't lie to her, she'll know and it will only make him feel worse.
But, he wants to anyway. It's an easier answer, and he has no idea where this is going.
So he does. Knuckles isn't good at lying, he has no practice and he feels sick to his stomach whenever he actually goes through with it. But he can't feel sick here, so what's the harm? (More guilt, that's the harm.)
"… I'm doing fine, lady Tikal." He barely mumbles it, still just staring at his twiddling thumbs.
In the corner of his eye, he sees Tikal slump, she's caught his lie, and Knuckles half expects her to throw him out of her just for the action. He's actually not sure why he thinks that, she's never even forcefully sent him away from here, she's always been perfectly gentle when waking him up. A little guilt rumbles underneath that calm, and he bats the intrusive thought away before it takes anymore root.
Tikal replies with a subdued "Ah," before settling back into that eerie quiet. The Chao have wandered away from them now, so Knuckles can't use them as a distraction anymore. He only sees the ripples in the water where they once were now.
He looks away.
"… Your… Your birthday is coming up, in just a few weeks." Tikal states, shattering their silence. She's looking straight at him, expectant.
Oh.
So that's what this is about.
Even whatever magic ether is protecting him from his emotions, it's not strong enough to stop his chest from seizing. His shoulders are taut and he can't seem the relax them, even though that power is trying very hard to whisper "It's alright, it's alright."
"… Yes…" Knuckles manages, if he were awake, his heart would be hammering. But, despite everything, it beats patiently in his chest. He manages to look in her direction, not at her per se, but personally he thinks it's victory that he's got even this far.
Tikal's frown worsens, he's not responding the way she wants him to. Knuckles isn't sure he can. She stares a moment longer, an array of different emotions playing across her face. None of which Knuckles can decipher.
She's unsatisfied, and he doesn't have a clue of what to do. Honestly, he was not expecting this topic to ever come up. She's never brought it up before, and while this is… A little different from all his previous other birthdays, he doesn't feel like this deserves this much attention.
At least, that's his opinion.
He's tense, he sits rigid beside Tikal, stuck completely by her disappointed stare.
Finally her face only changes two more times. First, frustration, Knuckles knows that's what it is, because she looks a lot like him when he makes the expression. Then, after some contemplation, it shifts again.
And Knuckles does not know what to do with this expression. She looks… Sad? Maybe even bordering on desperate. Any trace of her usual peace is gone, and she seems to be aware of this, because she huffs.
"… You…" She stops, as if she's scared of her words, or perhaps she's waiting for permission. Either possibility is so completely absurd to Knuckles that he dismisses both of them entirely.
Tikal finds her courage. "… You are afraid."
His stomach clenches, and nevermind, he's looking at the pond again, except that the pond's ripples are moving too fast for him, it makes him feel a little nauseated. Or rather it would if this places' stupid energy wasn't protecting him from it. Knuckles decides that glaring at his knees is a lot easier to take in.
It takes a great amount of will, but he stops himself from fidgeting, though the itch to fuss over his quills again is strong.
Finding no good reason to lie to her anymore, (His own comfort definitely isn't one.) Knuckles takes in a slow, calming breath, letting ease wash over him as his chest rises and falls. He finds a little solace in the fact that his longer quills are curtaining his face right now. He can't see her face, and she can't see his.
She wants the truth from him, and he'll give it to her.
"I'm not ready." Knuckles utters, quiet, but still audible. He states it and realizes how heavy the words are on his lips. More than ever, he wants to wake up.
Next to him, Tikal shifts. She doesn't reply, not for a long while. Ruminating how to go about this, no doubt. Knuckles still doesn't understand why this is being brought up. As far as she's concerned, this shouldn't be more than another one of his self admonishing spirals.
But it's not. To her… This is important. Knuckles can't decide if that makes him feel warm and fuzzy, or uneasy and shaken.
Then, she's sliding her palm across his jawline, (And it only makes his spine tingle this time.) gently coercing his head where she wants it, looking at her. Tikal is smiling again, but it's void of her usual vibrancy. Knuckles is saddened by this.
When he won't meet her eyes, Tikal meets his, following his stare wherever they try to escape to.
Finally he gives in, he's not going to win against her, not when she is this determined and he's… Not. Knuckles makes eye contact, and stops breathing for a second in the effort to keep it.
He's pleading with her to say something, though he doesn't say anything.
There's recognition in her eyes, so she knows he's uncomfortable. Still, she doesn't break the contact. Knuckles shrivels a little. He's pretty sure this is the longest he's kept eye contact with anyone he's ever met. It's awful, and he wants so badly to wake up now, but he doesn't get to make that call.
Tikal does.
Her hand leaves him, the tips of her fingers faintly grazing his cheek. With sudden, and melancholy resolve, her eyes go steely.
She's almost desperate. "My sweet guardian, you and I both know the signs." Something close to sympathy (Pity.) creeps into her features, and she softens. She gestures to the pond.
"You know that you are."
Swallowing, Knuckles accepts defeat, finally cursing himself and doing what he's been avoiding this entire time. He follows where she's pointing.
He looks at his reflection.
Purple, lost eyes mirror his own in the water, and his stomach ties itself in knots. He wants to look away, to tear them away just so he can see anything else. Torturous, and completely unfair, his eyes stay put, forced to take in the sight of himself.
He doesn't appear too different from reality, not in his physique anyway. He's still bright red, violet-eyed with his loud, white crest anointing his chest. It's the other markings scattered across his body that really make him look like a stranger.
White and similar in style and shape than the one on his chest, they break like waves in his sea of red, creating a sense of chaos to his form. They're all over him, some on his forehead, small ones on is cheeks, his shoulders, and anywhere else his quills are visible.
They are symmetrical where they need to be, but each hold a different significance and purpose. Knuckles knows the story of each one. They're intricate and it feels like the designs were made with him in mind.
They're absolutely breathtaking. So perfect and beautiful and –
Knuckles hates them.
He wants to take both hands and rip those damn white marks out of his fur.
They're elegant and majestic, telling of wisdom and strength. He can't quite recognize himself here anymore. The markings weren't always here, he used to look like he does in reality. Knuckles isn't quite sure when they first appeared, he doesn't visit here enough to have a concrete timeline.
But he's pretty sure it's after the rebellion, after the war was finally won.
That idea makes him despise them even more.
Because it makes so much sense, they succeeded and he knows he had a hand in it, he shouldn't be surprised. But not it's not enough, not to him. This was too easy, and he's just… He's Knuckles, and these are… What they represent-
They're a lie.
They feel like such a lie.
And he seems to be the only one who knows it.
He's never done this before, but just this once, allows this one break in his routine. Knuckles lets himself feel indignant, and finally (Thankfully –) he manages to tear his gaze away from his (Cursed) reflection. He doesn't meet Tikal's eyes, he's not that confident, but he settles on her forehead.
He hopes his face looks even slightly convincing. He's fully aware that he can be intimidating, he's tall, imposing, and describing him as strong might be an understatement. But with some people, especially Tikal, that doesn't seem to scare them at all.
Usually that's a nice thing, (He really doesn't want to terrify anyone.) but now it's just an inconvenience.
He digs his claws into his palms, it doesn't hurt, nothing can really hurt here, but it pushes him to talk. "This place isn't real –" He points an accusatory finger at his mirror image. "– This isn't me."
Something flashes across her features, Knuckles might have the gall to call it pity. His attempt at resolve is slowly melting away under her stare. Tikal's eyes blare into him, even if he doesn't meet them directly. Knuckles doesn't even have to see his own face to know that the strength behind her sober expression is ten times as effective as his must be.
Still, he holds his ground, as best he can here. She has all the power here, and in the long run, there's no way he's winning this battle. He's not even sure he can really call his a battle, more like a stubborn child rebelling against their patient parent.
Tikal draws her mouth into a line, refusing to even entertain the idea of matching his animosity. She inches her knees closer to him. All of a sudden, Knuckles feels cornered. "My dear Guardian…" So tender and gentle, her palm finds his knee. "… This place, it has no reason to lie to you. It never has before, has it?" She pauses, giving him a moment to contemplate, then, she continues.
"What you see when you come here, who you see when you look –" Her head gestures to the water. "—That is you, the real you, sweet Guardian." Tikal finishes, looking even more pleasant and mild than before.
Something uncomfortable twists in Knuckles' chest, he gulps. The Chao seem to have wandered far out of Knuckles' sight.
"Please speak to me, my lovely Guardian."
He wouldn't dare refuse her, even if he's got no idea of what he's supposed to say.
Knuckles' decides to be truthful. He still wants to lie, but he's aware it's a fruitless effort. (Besides, a good guardian doesn't have to lie, shouldn't.)
"… Why can't I have more time?" If he were truly thinking about it, he would be ashamed at how shaken he sounds.
She tilts her head, smiling sadly to him. "Time shall move forward, whether we wish it to or not." Tikal says it plainly, but not without her usual soft tone. She says it like a fact, and it is, but Knuckles wants to deny it anyway.
Shaking his head, Knuckles all but scoffs. "I'm not – I don't –" He cuts himself off before he stutters himself into a stupor. In a way to comfort himself, or to cover himself, he doesn't really know, he wraps his arms around his shoulders. Most of his – the markings are covered now.
"… I don't deserve them. Not yet, I don't know if …" He stops, he can't find it in himself to finish. Tikal already knows the rest. He doesn't know why she's making him talk, she already knows.
She knows it all.
But, then, she's hugging him. Her arms barely reach around his midsection, and she can't ever hope to get anywhere close to stretching anywhere on his back. His nerve-endings are on fire and it's entirely possible he could run as fast as Sonic right now.
And if he was lost before, he is completely and utterly disoriented, thrown into the middle of nowhere, blindfolded now.
What… Is happening? Is he really here, or is this actually just a dream? Not like the dreams he has when he's summoned here, but like a dream-dream, where this is all just a sweet fantasy his brain has conjured.
But that's not possible, because his brain, never in a thousand, no; a million years, would his brain ever consider the possibility of Lady Tikal hugging him. She has always been outrageously kind to him, and incredibly patient. She has never been afraid to touch him, but they don't… Their exchanges are never this… Affectionate.
To her, he's just the Guardian. She's never called him anything else. Maybe that's just because Knuckles is a name imagined by… Well by Sonic and Tails. (That's a lie, it was Eggman's nickname first, but he is never, ever going to open that door.)
If he has a true name, a real "Echidna" name, he doesn't know what it is. Perhaps if he did, Tikal would call him by it. He really isn't sure how much time passes, but Tikal is still embracing him, and she… She's shaking. Wait, she's shaking?
Knuckles tries to pull away to see if she's alright, but she holds him tighter when he attempts to struggle out of her grip. He's baffled at her surprising strength. He could free himself if he wrestled just a little harder, but something compels him to let her have this.
Her breath hitches, and something slides into place in Knuckles head. She's crying. Panic rushes under his skin, and the emotional veil of this place can do nothing to stop him from spiraling. What is he supposed to do?! This has never happened- He's not great at helping normal people- What is he meant to do for this ageless goddess?
He's helpless, totally helpless.
Taking great, meticulous care, he hugs her back. He has to be extremely gentle, because while she can barely wrap her arms around his middle, he can do that two times over. She's delicate and while pretty much everyone is fragile to him, Tikal feels like glass in his arms. Which feels a little contradictory, since her grip is so intense.
Her hold is reminiscent of Amy's, the thinks absently. But, if this were Amy, he would be more equipped to comfort her. But this is not Amy.
They just… Sit there, for awhile, Knuckles' hug is stiff, and it's truly a sorry excuse of affection. He's okay at hugging, when he's awake. He hopes so at least, he's gotten a lot better over the years. But with Tikal being the one in his arms, it's as if he's regressed back to that awkward, naive 14 year old, who has never even heard of the concept of a hug. (Not true, he read about them in the books in the hidden library, but had never even considered the idea that he could receive one.)
Tikal rakes in such a loud, strained gasp, that momentarily Knuckles panics and thinks she's choking. But, instead of breaking into a terrible coughing fit, she's talking.
"My precious…" A sob interrupts her, but she recovers quick enough. "… My wonderful Guardian, I am so, so sorry… This- This is my fault…" Tikal squeezes tighter, remorse pouring out of her in depressing, overwhelming waves. Knuckles blinks to recover from the overflow of emotions.
His heart skips a few beats, and he's growing more and more distressed. It's a little concerning, it's as if whatever was protecting him from feeling anxious has flipped on it's head and now he want's to dig a tunnel and stay there.
Knuckles stutters, he can't find his voice right now, not while Tikal is so… Inconsolable. He wants to say she's wrong, because she is, wants to tell her that she's done literally nothing wrong and she has no reason to cry. But the words don't come, don't even begin to rise from his throat.
"I knew you felt like this…" Tikal's cries have quieted down now, and her usual measured control is returning to her tone. "… And I never did anything to stop it… To make you feel… Better."
She still quivers in his grasp, and Knuckles feels awful for it, he never ever thought he could make her cry. Somehow, he has, and if he wasn't holding her right now, he would be ripping at his quills in clumps.
And, Knuckles wills his mouth to open, because she's wrong, she's so so wrong. This is wrong –
"This is all my own fault, lady Tikal." He says it louder than he needs to, but he's pretty sure it helps get his point across. Tikal lets out a strangled noise, and forces herself free, just enough to be face to face to him. As best she can anyway, she's craning her neck to meet his eyes since she's so close to him.
Her lips part, but Knuckles isn't going to let her argue. Whatever she has to say to make him feel better, or comfort him in some way, it will fall on deaf ears. Because anything she says will be wrong, unless she's finally angry at him (Holding him accountable.) for messing everything up, multiple times, then she's wrong, and he won't hear it.
An arm lets go of her and he shoves it on her muzzle. Her eyes go wide and she looks at him with complete bewilderment.
"I do not… I don't understand why this is happening." He says it quiet, almost shy, as if his cluelessness is something new. Knuckles laughs, the sheer ridiculousness of it all catching up to him.
"I mean… All you have to do is look back at my life, and you know this is wrong –" Another laugh, but it feels more like a cry in his throat. "– A mistake." Knuckles stops, and he feels breathless, and his hands are shaking.
They do that a lot, since the resistance. A loud noise, or an animal call that sounds just a little too close to a scream, and suddenly, he is overcome with tremors. He's gotten used to them, they're nothing more than a small inconvenience, if he has to do something that involves steady hands.
But he's never had them here. He's always been safe from whatever is affecting him out there. Except right now he's not, his hands are shaking and he is more uncomfortable here than when he's awake. Knuckles realizes just how much he truly does want to wake up now.
His gut turns uneasily in his stomach, and he knows it's time for him to look away again. He settles on the horizon, or lack-thereof. This place has always felt endless, like if he started walking, he could live lifetimes and never reach the end.
The palm keeping Tikal silent slides away, leaving her mouth partially open, as her thoughts kick and fight for her attention. Knuckles notes how much his hand shakes as he pulls it away, it's actually kind of funny. (It's not funny at all.)
There's another long pause, and Knuckles is thankful for it. He allows himself some time to catch his breath, and he clenches his fists, tight, and it doesn't hurt, nothing can hurt here, but it gives him something to focus on. Besides himself, or the woman beside him.
And, actually, he's done such a good job focusing on the sensation in his palms, that he has completely tuned Tikal out.
"– Understand it yet, and I know that this life is… Burdensome, but you are here for a reason, loyal Guardian." She smiles, and Knuckles is desperately trying to catch up, to find the context to her words so he can at least act like he comprehends. Tikal carries on. "It is hard, to be patient, but if you find it in yourself to wait, things will fall into place, and it will make sense."
She places her hand on his, and he releases the tension from it. "Things will get better, you will feel better… Just you see."
With complete and utter optimism oozing from every word she speaks, it's clear she means every word of it. Her belief is palpable and Knuckles is inclined to believe her. She has never once lied to him, or even purposefully lead him astray. Kindness is all she's ever shown to him.
But, she's still wrong.
She's so blinded by love, affection, duty, or whatever she is, or feels for him. She doesn't see.
And Knuckles realizes that she won't see, and it makes him want squirm inside his skin because it feels like he's lying to her, and she is believing it without question.
He'll keep arguing with her and she won't argue back, simply repeating loving platitudes and trying to convince him that these lies growing in his fur are fine. That they're okay, that they're earned.
Squeezing his fists again, in fact, a little tighter now, Knuckles forces himself to glance at his reflection one more time. Instead of fear now, it's replaced with disdain, and he can't stop from glaring. He might feel sick to his stomach, but it's still numbed by this place, so he doesn't allow a reaction to the discomfort to slip through.
His ears are ringing, and his hands are shaking so badly it's making the rest of him follow suit. But even so, it doesn't bother him. The magic of forced calm is returning, Knuckles notes. A puzzle piece clicks together in his mind, and he theorizes that perhaps this calm has everything to do with Tikal's calm.
Her Chaos wavelength is so strong here, it intertwines with his and keeps his emotions at bay, because she always keeps her's at bay.
Those violet eyes are glaring holes into his skin, leaving him feeling… Something. He thinks it's… Weariness, which shouldn't be possible here. Except it is.
He's tired, no, exhausted from being here.
He… He doesn't want to be here anymore.
Knuckles gives up on his hateful staring contest with himself, and slowly pans his head towards Tikal.
And realizes that she's talking.
"– Aurdian?" Concern melts away from Tikal's features once she registers that she has his attention. Her sweet grin returns. "There you are – I… Just wanted to say… I und –"
" – I would like to wake up." Knuckles interrupts.
Tikal pales, her lips parted, her speech forgotten on her tongue. A line appears on her forehead.
"… What?"
"You can do that right… Wake me up?" Feebly, Knuckles tries to spot the Chao again.
"I…" Tikal's face falls, and she looks destitute. She sighs. "Yes, my Guardian, if you wish… I can."
He only nods.
Nothing happens for a lengthy ten seconds, then, something like acceptance flashes in Tikal's eyes, and she inches forward, til she is knee-to-knee with him. She awards him with one last, precious beam before she covers his eyes with both hands.
Knuckles doesn't have to be good at reading expressions to know it is entirely manufactured.
She whispers something, the same thing she always does. It must be the prayer to send his presence back into his body, but she's always quiet enough that he's never been able to decipher the verses.
He already feels the darkness creeping in, sending him back to that limbo, where shortly thereafter, he'll awake in his own, real body again.
Knuckles can hardly hear Tikal over the static, when she whispers one last request to him.
"Please, my precious, beloved Guardian, please… Just think about my words."
It barely registers in his mind before his entire world is submerged in inky blackness.
He wakes up on the floor of his cottage, having fallen from his cot. His joints are sore, and despite the cold breeze let in by his window, he knows he's been sweating the whole night.
He feels queezy.
He doesn't move, doesn't sleep, the rest of the night.
The sun is rising by the time he finally moves.
He's exhausted.
