"I don't know why I love her like I do."
The showers were fancy enough to have adjustable pressure, but the water was only ever cold.
She should've expected as much. Valleri wasn't a plumber, but she was surprised to find any kind of running water in Hallownest, however the hell they got that to work. But unless she was doing something wrong, this apartment didn't seem to have any kind of water heater, so the water ran ice-cold down her bare back. That was just fine with her; she was used to cold showers.
There was a sink in this room, too. It was currently running idle with most of her clothes stuffed inside of it.
One thing – among many – that her apartment didn't seem to have was any kind of washing machine. She'd checked the ground floors and everything. Maybe there was some laundromat equivalent somewhere nearby, but bugs didn't seem to wear many clothes anyway, and since it was constantly raining anyway, they didn't much care if any of it got wet or dirty. Valleri had to make do with what she had.
Reaching through the weird beaded shower curtain, she rubbed a bit of bar soap into the water to lather her clothes. How the hell did they get soap anyway? What was it made of? At times, Hallownest could be such a headache from merely existing.
The lights in the bathroom were "on", but that only meant a pale Lumafly lantern or two was glowing, the little bugs beating around inside the glass. Yeah, get a big eyeful, she thought.
Leaning forward on the cold wall of the shower, she huffed. Hornet was still asleep in her bed in the other room. The little… spider demigod? Her charge, the condition for her freedom. Last night had gone fairly well(though, she needed to learn how to cook with Hallownestian foods and appliances), but what was the endgame here? Was she supposed to be a nanny for years? Was Herrah looking for something? There was too much she didn't know, too much she needed to account for.
But far be it for her to ask questions. This was her freedom. Besides, she was starting to like the little brat.
Fumbling with the weird handle, the water from the shower head slowed to a quiet drip that echoed through the bathroom. Valleri stepped out, shuddering on the cold tiles, the water dripping down from her hair and body onto the floor below.
The cross around her neck hadn't felt so cold in a long time.
…
"Wait, how do I dry these? Do we have any towels?"
Valleri didn't have the fondest memories of the City's tramways. But this was also her first time actually taking a normal ride on one without having to chase down some B-rate horror movie monster, so maybe she could give it a chance.
She took the most normal seat she could find: center-back row, window seat. For some reason, the seats weren't arranged like subway trains with seats along the sides, but like airplanes, with rows. She wondered how these tiny boxes were meant to hold any significant capacity when she noticed that most of the bugs on this tram were donned in red velvet cloaks and adorned in jewelry; these trams were reserved for the upper class. Explains the small capacity.
So far, the stares were her biggest issue. She tried to hide and make herself look small under her cloak, but when she realized that made her look shifty, she boldly made a presence of herself, legs out and arms over the back of her seat to take up as much space as possible. Then the nervous stares began to turn hateful, so she went back to looking small before someone decided to pick a fight.
It wasn't like she minded fighting someone, But one, they were stuck inside this tram, and two, Hornet was bouncing on her knee to the beat of the music.
After stumbling out of the shower and getting herself and Hornet some breakfast, Valleri had found a small package that had arrived on her doorstep, with a letter attached. Scanning its contents, she opened the box, and had to do a double take at what was inside.
The first item was apparently a Tram Pass – not hers to keep. Someone wanted her to visit, and had lended her their Pass to use. From what she could find out, these things were extremely hard to get, both being overly expensive and requiring a lengthy bureaucratic approval process to be granted one by the King himself. Thus, all the cushy rich people eyeing her right now.
The second item was a busted-up Sony Walkman.
She had the flimsy headphones over her ears and was holding the dirty plastic box in her hand, bouncing her knee to the staticky music tape within. Valleri had no idea how they got this to work; her best guess was that the whole thing had been recovered, tape and headphones and all, as one thing. Someone pressed a button and the batteries hadn't died yet, so here they were.
Of course, that meant the tape within was completely random, since they'd just happened to find it that way in the Junk Pit or whatever. "Need You Tonight" by INXS bumped through her ears. No wonder someone threw this out.
Valleri couldn't read the full contents of the letter, but basically, someone wanted to bring her to the City's Junk Pit for… advice? They'd been recovering old human garbage down there from what she'd heard, so it'd make sense to want a human on the scene. She hoped it was alright to bring Hornet along.
Human. Excluding that gun and bike, she hadn't seen anything 'human' since she crashed into this alien hellhole. Separated from her home and everything she'd ever known, a stranger in this world where nothing was familiar.
Her cross was like frostburn against her chest. She focused on the music, grasping those last threads of humanity in a vice.
"I'm glad you could make it, Miss Valleri!" Quirrel beamed up at her.
Valleri couldn't help but smile herself. "Hey!" she grinned, before looking out over the area. Scrap metal and towering heaps of trash, floating in a marsh of suspiciously blue water. City guards were darting every which way, shouting orders, running some big operation. Her smile fell to confusion, "What, uh, what's all of this?"
"It's, ah, something of an archeological expedition," Quirrel explained. Hearing such big words from such a young voice sounded funny. "We're working to recover as many human artifacts as we can, and sort them. We figured you could help us!"
She was acutely aware of Hornet riding on her shoulder, wide-eyed, looking over the dump like it was a natural wonder. Valleri's nose just scrunched up at the smell.
"Do I get paid for this?"
Quirrel blinked, his smile falling. "H-Huh?"
She hated to disappoint the kids, but she had better ways to spend the day than digging through trash. Valleri tsk'd, turning on her heel. "Look, I'm tight on cash and I don't have a steady income. I don't have time for charity. I got ten grand yesterday, spent six just to not starve for the night, already down to three grand. I gotta keep–"
"Ten minus six is four, miss. You have four grand."
Hornet crept over. "Mhm, that's four."
Valleri paused for a long moment, dumbstruck, before she threateningly swatted the air near Hornet. "S-Shuddup! I didn't pass high school, alright?!"
"Neither have we…"
"The point is," Valleri glared, "I can't afford to waste time. I'm sorry, but I gotta put myself first before I can run around doing… science-y… whatever this is."
She tugged the Tram Pass out of her pocket as she walked away, sighing. She didn't want to turn the kid down; this whole thing seemed pretty intersecting, actually. But she needed to be realistic, put her own well-being first. Maybe she could come back once she was more comfortable, but if she was gonna look after herself and a spider-princess in this alien world, then making bank needed to be her first priority. Those posh clowns on the Tramways had to be filthy rich; maybe if she swiped some of their wallets, they wouldn't notice–
A claw grabbed her shoulder, stopping her. "We can pay you double what the Guards here make, if that is what you wish."
His voice was booming and jovial, if a little tense. His presence alone was powerful. But Valleri didn't get the chance to turn around and see what he looked like, not before something else about him caught her attention.
"Dude!" she spun around, wiping some invisible gunk off of her jacket shoulder, gagging, and wiping her hands off on her pants. "Jesus Christ, I just showered this morning! Eugh!"
She normally wasn't the type to comment on people's hygiene – times were always hard in her income bracket – but she'd never met anyone, ever, in her life, who reeked so densely of shit.
The giant dung beetle, clad in round pale armor, took it all in stride. He laughed, a grand and guttural laugh that made his whole form and half of the Junk Pit quake. God, he really did smell fucking fetid. "Revel in the majesty of a heroic odor! Of course, it cannot be handled by a villain such as yourself."
Valleri had been called a lot of things recently – killer, alien, creature, human, prisoner – but 'villain' was a new one. And yet, he didn't say it with any malice, like it was some kind of inside joke, or a really unconvincing act.
"Uh… Right. W-Who're you?"
Quirrel looked appalled. "You don't know Great Knight Ogrim?!"
Valleri's chest immediately clenched up. Oh, fuckin' amazing, another Great Knight. Can I get your signature before you skewer me?
Ogrim laughed again. "I suppose I will just need to leave a grandiose impression, befitting one such as myself!" Valleri really didn't know what to make of this guy; his words, on the surface, sounded conceited and egotistic, like he was someone just a bit too proud to be serving the King. But something about how he presented himself gave her the impression that his 'Grand Knight of Valor' disposition was more like a comedy bit than anything. "O villainess, serving the Crown of the Deep, are you willing to cooperate with our enterprise for adequate pay?"
'Crown of the Deep'? Wait, is he talking about Herrah? I'm just babysitting her kid… "Uh… Sure. Yeah, we can… Yeah."
"Excellent!" He turned around, facing the pit of trash like he was getting ready to take on a monster. "Then let us be off, for this scrap won't sort itself! 'Tis a great duty we hold upon our shoulders!" And with that, he dived – dived – into the heaps of warped and jagged scrap metal, and he started swimming through it, occasionally popping out of the sea of trash like a dolphin.
Valleri sighed. So she was getting paid to juggle between babysitting a spider demigod princess, and helping a shit-dolphin-knight sort through a waterlogged scrapyard to find old VCRs. Welcome to Hallownest.
She took a step forward, only for Quirrel to hold out his hands. "Since you're staying, can I have my Tram Pass back, please?"
"Wh– This is yours?!" They didn't have names on them, but they were for stupidly rich people! What was this actual kid doing, waving around one of these things? Was he one of those trust-fund prodigies?
"Well… Technically, it's Madam Monomon's," Quirrel explained, sheepish. "But, ah, she doesn't exactly need one, since… You know…"
Right, it would be hard to fit a giant jellyfish on a tram. Valleri handed the metal Pass back over; she never wanted to ride one of those things again, anyway. Too many bad memories and too many judgemental eyes.
Across the trash-chasm, Ogrim seemed to be giving orders to some of the lesser guards, though they were all laughing heartily together. Quirrel held his Tram Pass to his chest, brow furrowed as he watched the Great Knight from afar. His silence didn't escape Valleri's notice.
"Hey, what's up with him, huh?"
Quirrel was hesitant to speak. "Sir Ogrim. He seems… tense. He doesn't usually act this way."
THAT'S tense? The guy was like a sewer-diving Santa Claus!
"It's… ever since you arrived, I think. I don't know why. And…" He paused, "Nobody's seen much of Lady Isma in a long while, too. She and Sir Ogrim used to be inseparable."
…Oh.
Valleri suddenly didn't want to be here anymore.
Valleri wished she brought gloves. She wished anyone here had gloves for her to borrow, though the best they had were metal greaves that didn't have enough fingers. She'd need to wash her hands 'til they were red tonight, and maybe like, leave them out in the sink to soak.
She wasn't sure what to do with Hornet, so the little spider either climbed around on her shoulders and watched her work, or had Valleri drop her off at a small station the guards had set up with food and drinks.
They'd keep her in good company; they'd be executed if they didn't, after all.
Her main job was less scavenging on her own, thank God, and more helping identify what the operation down here had already recovered and identified as "un-Hallownestian." That being said, a number of their finds were just random scrap metal. To be fair, from those, it was impossible to tell what was human and Hallownestian from all of the rust.
Even then, she was still surprised at how much stuff down here she did recognize. Old rubber tires, broken TVs that were over a decade old, car chassis, an old mailbox, parts from an engine. Mostly car parts. Was the Junk Pit connected to an LA scrapyard somewhere?
Her first interesting find was an old Polaroid.
She flipped the soggy box around in her hands. It was specifically labeled as a 1981 Polaroid Sun 600, and it looked exactly as she imagined the dumb thing would, with all of its boxy lenses and heavy flip-up plastic bits. It was included with a number of boxes of still-good film – who the hell threw this thing out, and why? Was it broken, or just obsolete?
Once she snapped it open, she recognized it; an icon of weird hipster culture. It still had a little battery, thankfully, which was nice. It took a bit of experimentation, but she managed to jam one of the film cartridges in, with a dark slide immediately rolling out and startling all of the guards around her. She suddenly realized that these people really were medieval; she wondered if she could kill someone by letting them try a Dorito.
She aimed the camera at Quirrel. "Smile."
"Huh–?"
He was momentarily blinded by the flash, stumbling back and rubbing his eyes in surprise. Some of the guards aimed their spears at her threateningly, and all the other workers in the area stopped to look at the commotion.
"Oops, didn't realize the flash would be that bad."
Then, a thin sheet of plastic and paper rolled out from the camera. It took a bit to develop, but sure enough, it was an exact replica of Quirrel's likeness, blurred by motion.
The uproar was almost immediate. Quirrel was clutching the film, wide-eyed, showing it off to everyone gathered around. Some other workers stopped what they were doing to come see, and before long, there was a sizable crowd all staring in awe at Quirrel's frankly unflattering photo. Probably the first photograph ever taken in Hallownestian history, and it was of him. Even with everyone else's bewilderment, he looked so proud.
"Why can't I just have normal work days anymore?"
While Quirrel was presenting the photograph to Ogrim like a child showing a crayon drawing to their uncle, Valleri turned to the familiar voice. "Reed? Is that you?"
While the chaos around Quirrel's picture drifted elsewhere as Quirrel ran around with it, intent on showing it to the whole world, the guard took a seat next to her. Reed looked tired, like he'd been overworked lately. (The more likely story was that he was just getting tired of Valleri's bullshit.)
"I'm deployed at the furthest edge of Hallownest and there you are. I'm called to the White Palace and there you are. I take a job clearing out a landfill and here you are."
"I'm inescapable," she grinned.
"Unfortunately. What catastrophe will strike us this time, I wonder?"
They both chuckled, and the conversation came to a lull. The excitement over the photo had died down a little, and Quirrel was starting to generate hypotheses over how it might work. Nobody caught a word of it, but they seemed to have forgotten about her and the Polaroid camera for now.
Valleri snapped her fingers, and stood up to go get Hornet. She picked up the little spiderling and had her piggyback on her shoulders, so that Hornet's head was just above her own.
She spied the camera in her hands. "What's that?" Hornet asked. "There was a big flash, and everyone started yelling… Is it a bomb?"
"Not a bomb," Valleri grinned. She positioned her finger behind the button so that it would take a picture without the flash – she didn't want to blind Hornet. "Here, if I hold it like this… Okay, gimmie a big smile, bubs!"
Click!
Valleri, Hornet and Reed all stood around the film for minutes, waiting for something to appear. The best they got was a very blurry silhouette of Hornet and Valleri, illuminated only by the faint blue glow of the water.
"...Huh. I guess it is pretty dark down here."
"Is this a magazine collection? That's kinda cool, maybe your historians can use this for– Ah, nope, this is definitely someone's old porn stash. Yeah, you might be better off just burning this. Or keep it, I don't care. N-No, Quirrel, you don't wanna see any of this. You either, Hornet. J-Just trust me."
At some point, Valleri had managed to unearth a small, white, cardboard box. She was going to just throw it with the others and let the guards sort it out, but the label on the box made her freeze.
"Miss Valleri? What's what?"
"U-Uh! These are…" She fumbled for a bit, trying to find a good excuse. "Parts! I'm, uh, no engineer, but remember those screws and bolts we found earlier? These are kinda similar."
The metal parts inside of the box clicked around inside. She held the box tight, praying the water didn't get it soggy to the point of breaking apart and revealing its contents. She didn't think Quirrel would recognize these, but she didn't want to risk it.
"Oh." Thankfully, Quirrel wasn't so excited by the prospect that he'd ask to see its contents, but he nodded and smiled all the same. "Here, I can put it with the others for you!"
"No!" Valleri said, a bit too hastily. "No, uh… I can hold onto these. Don't worry, I'll put them in. Just wanna study them a bit more before we lump it with the others, y'know?"
Quirrel seemed confused by her demeanor, but he didn't pry. Thankfully, some of the other guards called him over elsewhere, so he had to run. "Alright. Good luck, Miss Valleri!"
She didn't think she'd ever get used to 'Miss', but she waved as he ran off to investigate some other finding. She kept her forced smile up for as long as she could, waiting until he was gone and nobody was looking to slip the cardboard box into an inside pocket of her leather jacket.
She took one last look at the label, emblazoned in red.
WINCHESTER - 357 MAG - 50 ROUNDS
A bundle of old Christmas lights. A couple bundles, actually; though they had no way of powering them, so for all she knew, they were all broken. They probably were, actually.
"These are cool, if you can figure out how to power them."
"'Power'?" Hornet had asked, confused.
"Yeah. At–" Home? In Los Angeles? In the United States? On Earth? "–my place, we had electricity to power everything, it's like… I don't really know how to explain it but you know all those, er, jellyfish, around the Archive? All that zappy-stuff around them? That's electricity. Our whole world was powered by that stuff."
"Wow." Hornet was starry-eyed again, the kid probably daydreaming of an entire world draped in electricity, blinding lights hung from every skyscraper.
Valleri held up the bundle. Maybe one day, she could make that dream come true.
…
"Wouldn't that explode?"
"Wh– It's controlled! We're not just electrocuting a whole city–"
Class A was for one-handed objects, Class B was for two-handed, Class C was for anything that needed more than one person to safely carry.
"Quirrel? …I think you've found your Class D."
Ogrim crossed his arms, shaking his head in bewilderment at their latest find. Valleri ran her hands through her hair, unbelieving. Hornet's dark eyes were wide with wonder, and Quirrel looked like his knees could give out at any moment.
"Don't even bother trying to move this thing," Valleri finally mumbled. She reached out, running her hands along the side of a fucking RV.
A whole, complete RV. Not just the frame or parts, but someone had wheeled the entire thing here somehow. She could only assume there was some issue with driving it that made it unusable, and it got towed to a scrapyard, only to get warped to Hallownest. She still didn't understand how that was possible, but she definitely didn't think it was capable of transporting such a massive vehicle in one piece.
It had taken half of the guard to sweep enough trash away from it to properly look at the thing, much less interact with it at all. Valleri ran her hands along the door, her breath hitching when it opened with a click.
As she and Hornet clambered inside, Quirrel stopped to add a footnote to his Artifact Classification sheet:
Class D: Do not move.
…
It was some old, 70's RV, with all the wood panels, and the beiges and browns. Brown everywhere. Valleri herself was born in '71, she knew how the last two decades were just acres of brown on everything. Brown cars, brown clothes, brown rooms, brown ashtrays in the McDonald's.
Though, that was mostly in the seventies. The eighties were brown, too, but that was mostly carried over from the last decade, and nothing was really bright and neon except for that one time in '85 for some reason. It was mostly just crack and AIDS everywhere for those ten years.
Ah, memories.
These were the thoughts going through Valleri's head as she set foot in the old RV, considering asking for a Lumafly lantern but shocked to find that the built-in yellow lights still worked just fine. She took a deep breath; the air in here was surprisingly fresh compared to the landfill just outside. The lights, the smell, the cushions and the carpet and upholstery and everything, it was all very well kept for however long it had been here.
Not only did it survive the elements in the Junk Pit, but its previous human owner must have taken very good care of it. It was a wonder that this thing was taken to a scrapyard at all; it was like stepping back in time, back to a distantly familiar world.
If only everything wasn't piss and shit colored.
A bright flash came from outside; Quirrel must be using the camera to archive their findings, since there was no way in hell this thing was getting all the way up to the Teacher's Archives.
Hornet hopped down from her shoulders and was walking around on her own, slow and awed by everything she was seeing. Valleri could tell the little spiderling wanted to run and fly through the whole place, but there was just so much to take in, she had no choice but to slow down.
The little demigod hopped up onto one of the plush seats, bouncing on it to test the springs. "Was this really yours?" she asked innocently.
"It wasn't mine, but my people made this, yeah. It's from my world."
Hornet hummed, sliding over to the window and drawing back the curtains, looking at all of the guards and scientists outside, waving to some of them. "You should make it yours."
Valleri opened her mouth, paused, then nodded with pursed lips, mirth in her eyes.
The door creaked open, and Quirrel stumbled inside, his inquisitive brain struggling to take it all in. An entire room from a different world, a different people that Hallownest couldn't conceive. His eyes wide, he took in the old, musty smell of peeling yellow wallpaper and seventies brown. "T-This is incredible! The find of the ages! We could spend lifetimes studying this, and–"
"It's mine."
Quirrel startled. "I-I'm sorry?"
"Yeah, this RV's mine now. I'm laying claim. Sorry." Valleri reclined in the driver's seat, turning the wheel and pretending to drive. She bumped the horn, imitating the sound it would make if the internals weren't a mound of rust.
"V-Valleri, you can't be serious!" Quirrel sounded genuinely distressed, leaning over the driver's seat to try and reason with her. "The things we could learn from this machine could advance Hallownestian technology by centuries! Transportation, luxury, aesthetic design–" (Valleri had to fight a laugh at that one) "–engineering, affordable living, these are all things that I can see this artifact helping us with from a glance alone!"
"Hm, lemme think about it." Valleri leaned back, closing her eyes and pretending to be deep in thought. Quirrel was practically shaking her shoulders now.
"Please!" he begged. "This research could save lives! W-We can pay you for it, if that might convince you! I'm sure Madam Monomon would agree that this is the kind of research you can't put a price on, so please–!"
Valleri grabbed a handful of Quirrel's hood and yanked it down over his head. "Oh, fiiiiine," she drawled, but she grinned to herself while Quirrel was still momentarily blinded. She climbed out of the driver's seat, striding back into the main cabin of the RV. "But only 'cause I like you."
Yeah, that's right, she thought to herself, a sadistic knot forming in her chest. You couldn't stop me from taking this if I really wanted it. I can take whatever I want. I only let you have it.
But then Quirrel pulled his hood up, and his eyes shined like a sea of stars. "R-Really?! Thank you, Miss Valleri! Thank you so much!"
That twisted knot instantly came undone and flopped to Valleri's stomach like an overdone noodle. She was powerless to those eyes.
To save face, she decided to check the cabinets and drawers in the RV. The scholars outside were probably still investigating the exterior, so she should have a few minutes to scavenge around a bit for herself. Her findings were mostly what she expected, old silverware and hand-tools, including a small fire extinguisher and propane tank.
(Quirrel had hopped up on the booth seat next to Hornet, trying to make conversation. "Isn't this incredible?", he beamed at her.
"My mom says I shouldn't talk to nerds," Hornet hissed back.)
She tugged open the minifridge, expecting either nothing or a moldy horror, but blinked in surprise when cool air drifted over her face. "H-Hey, this thing's still cold!" Inside were some snacks like granola bars and yogurts, as well as a few small human foods. There was a small tub of ice cream, tragically empty.
Quirrel darted up, at attention. "A machine that keeps food cold for preservation… Amazing! We can ask one of the sorcerers to place a Seal of Stasis on this part to keep it cool."
Valleri took a small granola bar out of the fridge – she hadn't eaten all day, giving Hornet all the leftovers from last night's dinner – nodding along and pretending to understand. It'd make sense for the fridge to still be cold, since none of the other electrical appliances seemed broken. But the food was still good, even the yogurt… how long ago did this RV appear? They only just found this massive thing now.
Finishing half of her granola bar, she handed the rest to Hornet, who grinned impishly before devouring the whole thing in a mess of crumbs. Little devil could eat one of those Stags whole if she caught one.
Valleri opened some more of the cabinets, high up near the ceiling, only for a number of books to come tumbling out and smacking her in the face, before all thudding to the ground.
"AH! God–..." She hissed, biting her tongue to hold back a curse while Hornet was still in the room, clutching at her forehead. Realizing it didn't actually hurt, she quickly got back up and tried to keep a tough face.
Her eyes caught onto the offending books on the carpeted floor. Some were manuals for the RV, some were books about wildlife and cars and whatever else these boring RV owners spent their time thinking about. But out of the pile, she pulled a blank notebook. No name, nothing filled in, though she had found a pen earlier she could write in it with.
Another book that caught her eye, small and yellow and faded, was a copy of Alice in Wonderland.
Her breath hitched. Rubbing her head, she picked up the small book, sitting in the booth seat next to Hornet, who was just finishing up her granola bar. Flipping through it, the pages were still clean, everything was legible, nothing torn or ruined.
Quirrel noticed her interest. "What's that, Miss Valleri?"
"Oh, uh…" Valleri blinked out of her trance. "It's just some old kid's book. I… recognized it, that's all."
Hornet perked up at this. She pawed at Valleri's jacket with her spindly little arms, "C-Can you read it?"
She glared down at the little spider. "Wh– Yes, I can read it, I'm not illiterate. I'm not that stupid–" Her brain registered Hornet's pleading expression, and Valleri paused, blinking. "Oh O-Oh, you meant read it to you. I…"
Quirrel ran back out, a number of the other books in his arms, some of them threatening to slip out and fall. "I-I'm going to take these back to the research team, Madam Monomon will certainly appreciate this discovery!" Pausing to secure his load, he stumbled out of the RV's door, taking great care not to drop anything into the blue water below them.
A silence filled the room. Hornet and Valleri were alone. She turned back to the little spiderling, whose wide eyes hadn't faltered.
"...Please?" Hornet finally asked. Seeing her gaze, something in Valleri's heart crushed and flopped dead. She was powerless to those eyes.
"...Fine," she huffed, leaning back against the booth wall with Hornet in her lap. As an afterthought, she drew the blinds; she didn't need a damn audience, other than the little princess in her arms.
With a sigh, she squeezed her eyes shut and threw her head back, silently praying to some invisible god for strength, before she opened the book. Her throat grew dry and her hands tightened around the pages, threatening to crease, but after a moment she steadied herself and, slowly, began to read.
"Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it…"
Valleri glanced down at Hornet, snuggled into her chest, her breathing soft and steady. Her pale horns curled up and smothered into her leather jacket like rabbit ears. She looked so small.
The chill of the metal cross around her neck made her shiver.
"'...and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice, 'without pictures or conversations?'"
It had probably been a few hours now. She needed to take Hornet back home; the little spider was almost asleep, curled up in her arms with her head on Valleri's shoulder like a baby.
She'd given the scholars all the help she could, taunted Reed a bit more, cheekily collected her pay from Ogrim, and set back off to see if there were any Stags still running down here. She'd already given the Tram Pass to Quirrel, and she didn't want to ride one of those things again anyway. She wished she could have that motorcycle back. That'd be awesome.
They were a ways away from the other scholars, wading through trash and trying to avoid anything that looked sharp. The exit to the Junk Pit was up here somewhere, she knew, but it was a bitch to climb up there.
It was silent. Nothing except the shifting of metal and plastic beneath her feet, the soft splashing and dripping of water, and Hornet's quiet breath next to her ear.
The princess suddenly went stock-still in her arms. "L-Look! White Rabbit!"
Valleri blinked, spinning around. What?! There weren't any rabbits in Hallownest, and it was just a fairy tale, so she had to just be seeing things–
She saw it. Two long, white ears curled up from behind a pile of trash.
No– Not ears. Horns.
The little creature peeked over the ledge and spotted them with its two, inky-black eyes. Two thin horns curved over its marshmallow-shaped head, ending in little numbs. Their black, chitinous body was covered with a small navy-blue cloak, tattered and dirty.
Their mask was pale and smooth like an elephant tusk.
Just as soon as they made eye contact, the strange creature dashed away, vanishing behind the piles of trash. Valleri stumbled towards them, arm outstretched, but they ran off without a word. "H-Hey, wait!" If they heard her, they didn't listen, and soon she couldn't even hear them. It was like their footfalls were inaudible.
No voice, no face, no name, no trace left behind.
"...Was that a ghost?" Hornet asked in her arms, innocent.
Valleri stood, watching the empty space where the ghost once spied them from, face blank. Even underground, for a moment, she thought those goosebumps on her spine were from windchill. She didn't know exactly what came over her at that moment; maybe it was Alice in Wonderland still half-sticking out of her jacket pocket, the whimsical English thoughts churning in her head like butter.
"A ghost… Yeah… I've heard of ghosts."
Hornet turned to look at her eyes wide, silently asking Valleri to elaborate, or maybe to tell a story. "A-Are they scary?"
"No… No, not at all," Valleri mumbled. She barely thought about the words tumbling through her lips, only knowing that she didn't want Hornet to be afraid of anything. "They're good ghosts. Good ghosts who wander the battlefields at night, guiding soldiers out of danger."
Hornet, perched on her arms, stared at her with rapt attention, her eyes wide and dark. "You can see their omens everywhere. Omens, warnings of stray bullets and lurking enemies." Maybe Valleri had watched too many old war dramas in the dark of her old apartment back in California, but she didn't try to stop what was flowing through her head. If it was poetry, then Hornet would hear it.
Valleri reached down, rubbing her finger along Hornet's chin, causing the Weaver princess to giggle on her arms. Valleri smiled, tickling her as she held her close to her heart.
"If I was such a ghost, I would stay so close to you, you could feel my breath on your cheek."
Walking back home, an exhausted and starry-eyed child cradled in her arms, the cross on Valleri's neck had never felt so warm.
SIX
YEARS
AGO
He'd never felt so cold.
The Fungal Wastes were pleasantly warm on the best days and sweltering on the worst, but the memory felt like a warm and safe blanket compared to the eternal rainstorm he was trapped in now.
His sisters would mock him, pity him. Him, a Mantis Lord, abdicating his throne and entering a self-imposed exile from the Tribe, all so he could end up sleeping in a dark and frigid alleyway. His chitin reeked of the muddy water between the cobblestone roads, his back ached, and he felt like he might be coming on with something.
So this was why the Tribe hated the Wyrm's Kingdom. Why his sisters despised it.
(Why his now-former mate loathed every stone that had built up this colossal city. Sometimes, she had scared him. He missed her so much, it hurt.)
Back in the Tribe, he was the pinnacle of respect, of honor, of authority, challenged only by his fellow Lords and family. But the moment they stepped outside of that bubble – or perhaps inside of this one – they were nothing. They were lost between the maze of their enemy's alleys and dwarfed by their monolithic skyscrapers that hurt his neck to see the top of.
A monument to their insignificance and savagery.
But Caesar would bear it all, the cold nights without a bed and the humiliation of these so-called civilized people, all for his daughter's sake.
"Sylvia…"
His daughter curled up next to him. His sweet, precious, sickly little daughter. The only thing that broke up the endless rainfall were her ragged coughs, shivering against his chest.
They didn't know what she had, but it was killing her, slowly. Even the best healers in the Tribe couldn't help her, watching uselessly as she writhed in her sleep.
Desperate and out of options, Caesar had left the only home he had ever known in search of Hallownest's help. Their doctors and medical practices were leaps and bounds beyond anything the Mantises had, and if they couldn't cure his daughter…
Well, they had to.
His status as a Mantis Lord didn't help him once he left the Wastes; the Tribe didn't use Geo, so he was penniless in this City. The populace either didn't believe him when he said he was a Lord, or they didn't care. The Tribe had not established any official diplomatic channels with the White Palace, outside of a declaration of territory and a very tense ceasefire, so he couldn't request royal help, either.
It seemed his only option was to weather another cold night without a home. Pulling his daughter close, he tried to keep her as warm as possible, shield her from the frigid rain, praying she would live just another few hours.
Thunk!
Some trash toppled over beside them. Caesar and Sylvia's heads snapped up, instincts on high alert. Muggers? Wild animals? He could take care of himself, but with his ill daughter here…
Something small tumbled out from behind a dark corner. He hadn't even seen or heard anything there, like it had only just appeared. As they crept into the light, Caesar's eyes widened.
Not bug, nor beast, nor god.
A small, pale, fleshy little creature, a mop of dirty brown hair on its head, stared up at him, his green eyes filled with fear and wonder.
Chapter name and summary are a reference to Take Me to the River by Talking Heads.
Other musical references in this chapter include:
Need You Tonight by INXS
California One / Youth And Beauty Brigade by The Decemberists (spoken word)
Short fluff chapter that'll hopefully make some more links to the main Ethno fic, and also set things up for later in MR. I've been planning to add the spoken-word segment from California One since the original Hornet fight chapter in Ethno, which is actually sampled from the 1990 movie Archangel. I don't think there's too much deeper meaning to draw from it; it's just a nice song and a really sweet thing to say.
I know it's weird to update on a Thursday night and I'll probably get buried, but I have a bunch of school stuff to do tonight so I'm in a bit of a hurry. Can't write a more fleshed-out author's notes, so I just wanna say thank you for reading, and please leave a comment! :)
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