"On the other side of town, a boy is waiting,
With fiery eyes and dreams no one could steal."
Chance was freezing. As was Jeremy, even if he denied it. The eternally cool, blue visage of the city matched the icy temperature of the rain-laden air, and its nippy talons had torn into their soaked shapes. The rain may have been cold, but the canal's chilling grip was the distilled, concentrated essence of the city.
The City of Tears was magnificent, but under the Infection's curse, was as cold and soulless as the stream they had fallen in.
As it was, Chance and Jeremy were hunched over, shivering in the constant downfall. The rain, unable to find any purchase on their thoroughly soaked bodies, spilled off onto the cobbles.
Tusk had run out after Chance, only to find both Jeremy and him embracing, despite their sapped strength. An outpouring of Chance's pent-up emotions, flowing from his mind like the rain flowed from his body.
The two being led out of the rain by Tusk was enough to bring tears to Chance's eyes, Jeremy not far behind. The mutual shock still hadn't left, and neither had the cold. How he longed to warm his chilled flesh. His chilled bones.
Suffice to say, Lemm wasn't happy to see them trail water into his shop.
One thing led to another, and in the end, they were both sitting around a roaring fire in the center of Lemm's shop, sitting on plush pillows with thick blankets draped across their shoulders. It was warm, blazing, yet took its time to burrow into their flesh and weed out the cold.
The only thing that could've made it better was a piping hot beverage, and judging by the growing shriek of the kettle over their campfire, it wasn't far off.
Chance shivered, clutching the blanket closer to his body, "T-thanks again." Jeremy nodded eagerly.
"Next time, don't go jumping into canals," Lemm answered, preparing the kettle.
A curved window gave a clear view down on the city square, as well as letting the city's natural light illuminate the shop in its entrancing colors. The fireplace fought the muted, calm aura with its own hisses, crackles, and bright, warm light. He wondered what the view might look like from outside; a single flickering window in a dark, dead city. A lone ship in the midst of a hurricane.
It was a small blot of life, safety within the preserved husk of the City of Tears.
As Lemm got ready to take the kettle off, he glanced over to his side to look at Jeremy, really look at him. Rio may have been right when she called him child-like, but that was only in his demeanor; physically speaking, he seemed to be just about Chance's age, maybe a bit younger. He could only tell from his more human-like features; hell, for all he knew, Jeremy could've been well over a hundred.
Chance watched as Lemm poured tea into the four cups on the tray, with the practiced grace of a noble, before setting down the kettle and carrying the tray around. He placed a cup in Chance's lap, one in Tusk's lap, but he paused when he handed Jeremy his cup, eyeing the soaked boy up and down.
"...A hybrid, eh."
Jeremy flinched under Lemm's gaze, before the relic collector shook his head and stepped away. He strolled over to a plush, antique chair, no doubt his favorite reclining spot, and took his own cup from the tray, letting himself relax.
Chance held his cup, Jeremy and Tusk doing the same. He sniffed at it, the steam clearing his nose. It smelled of earth, yet something more, just at the edge of his senses. Spring. He took a sip.
Not the best flavor, but it felt wonderful going down his throat, warming his innards.
Jeremy, putting down his now empty cup, sighed in delight, "T-T-That's m-much better. T-Thank you," he stammered through chattering teeth. Lemm nodded.
Tusk put down their finished cup as well. How they drank, he wasn't sure. For his part, he took another sip. Even if he didn't quite enjoy the flavor, it did wonders to calm his shocked thoughts.
Everything was peaceful, right in the world. It was just the four of them, sitting around the roaring fire, drinking tea.
Lemm's dour expression took away from the mood.
"...Ah, before I forget," Lemm spoke up. He reached over the armrest of his chair and pulled up Chance's messenger bag. "In your rush to leave, you left this behind."
"Oh!" Chance would've scrambled up to take it, but he wasn't in any position to move from his pile of blankets. Jeremy was sitting closer, so he reached over to take the bag from Lemm and handed it to Chance. "T-Thanks, sorry about that," Chance ran through a couple of formalities.
"Now, forgive me for being nosy, but I couldn't help but notice you had something interesting in that bag."
Chance froze, despite already being freezing. "W...What 'something'?"
"Well, that black device you have is quite unique, but I'm neither a thief nor a fool. I can tell when something is somebody else's personal property. Aside from that, however," he paused to take another long sip from his tea, exhaling as he finished. "Those crystals you possess are quite eye-catching."
The… crystals? Chance opened up his bag to peek inside, spying a few fist-sized chunks of bright pink crystals. "Oh, I remember these," he said, grabbing one and showing it to Tusk. "Remember? When we checked out that big crystal mine in the Crossroads."
...
Idly, he broke a smaller crystal with his nail, shattering it into small bits like a small child would shatter an icicle. The fragmented crystals were warm to the touch, sending small tingles down his hand. It felt familiar, yet also so alien... They could prove useful, though.
A few of the more intact pieces slipped into his bag. He double-checked to make sure nobody saw him do so, and onwards they went.
...
Tusk nodded in recognition.
"Those are raw crystals from the Crystal Peaks," Lemm explained. "Once, they were refined into glass to use in construction throughout Hallownest. But now, the raw material itself is seen very rarely outside of the mines they are mined in."
Chance glanced down at the chunk in his hand. Maybe he was overthinking it, but he could've sworn it was glowing, reflecting his bright orange eyes back at him.
"I mean… Do you want it?"
Lemm huffed, an odd note in his voice, "Want is a strong word. I'm interested in them, nothing more."
"I've got…" He checked his bag again, "Several here, actually."
Lemm hummed, eyes closed in deep thought. He seemed to be putting several puzzle pieces together in his head, before he took his teacup and downed the rest of his tea in one big gulp.
"Follow me," he said, setting his teacup down on a small table beside his chair as he stood up, motioning Chance to follow. "I mentioned that I had a human artifact? I wish to show it to you."
"...No."
Lemm took another step forward before he paused, turning around to glare at Chance. "Excuse me?"
Chance grabbed the edges of the blanket that was draped over his head and around his shoulders, pulling it closer to him. "Cold."
Lemm stared at him, exasperation written across his face, before he threw his hands up. "Fine!", he said, sitting back down in his plush chair as he prepared to pour himself another cup of tea. "Fine. I can show it to you once you grow up."
Chance hummed with content.
Once Chance finally felt comfortable enough to leave the fire, Lemm had led him into a dark room in the back. It was some kind of backup storage room for stuff that Lemm didn't see as having any real historical value, but stuff he also didn't want to just discard. Jeremy and Tusk had stayed behind; they didn't want to move an inch, anyway. Not that Chance blamed them.
The storeroom was cramped, yet not disorganized. Chance couldn't immediately tell how Lemm's stuff was all arranged, but it was arranged; his dizzying collection of trinkets placed neatly on the shelves that covered every wall, some dustier than others. Many items were also scattered on tables that limited the walking space, yet nothing seemed to be on the floor, aside from a few boxes slid under the tables. The place was an honest to God antique store, with the same poor lighting and musty scent of old mahogany and tobacco smoke.
"It's back here somewhere. Give me a moment…" Lemm grunted, staggering around some of the tighter bends, disappearing behind some piles of boxes. Chance, deciding that trying to help him in such a tight space could only lead to disaster, shoved his hands into his coat pockets and waited in the empty space near the opening of the room.
Absent-minded, he tuned out the sounds of clatter in the back as he took a glance at some of the stuff that was closest to him. Just like antique stores in his world, Lemm even had some old… Well, he wouldn't call them magazines, but some kind of Hallownestian equivalent. Peeling open one of them(What was paper made from here? Silk? Leaves? That shellwood stuff?), he took a peek between the pages, and-
-blinked, before dropping the page. He didn't need to start seeing bugs in... that way.
"Ah! I think this is it… Is it?" Chance could hear Lemm shuffling around in the back, and cringed when a pile of junk toppled into view from around the corner, spilling all over the floor. Lemm gave a frustrated groan as he hobbled back into view, spinning around himself as he tried to walk between the trinkets scattered everywhere, like a bad game of Twister.
Chance took a step forward. "D-Do you need any-"
"Pardon?" Lemm asked, turning to face Chance while holding out a-
Chance shouted and fell on his back, staring up at Lemm's hand in horror. Lemm was holding an all-too-familiar shape, something distinctly human; a long barrel of stainless steel, a firm rubber grip, a cylinder that spun like clockwork…
Lemm looked at him funny before he shrugged, as if he didn't just point a gun right at Chance's face. "What?"
Chance stared at Lemm for a long, long minute, his eyes unable to tear away from the revolver in Lemm's hands, the way its pure and polished metal glinted in the dull light…
Hallownest's technology was equal parts miraculous and nothing impressive. Their architectural prowess and craftsmanship (craftsbugship?) were phenomenal, but that was about it. They still used nails and spears for weapons, they still had tribes, they lit their streets with jars of glowing bugs. They didn't have electricity.
Forget smartphones, they didn't even have those ancient rotary phones or those things from the late 1800's. They didn't have cameras or automobiles. They didn't have any kind of industrialization or mass production. Chance didn't even know if they had basic plumbing, or even any kind of mass print.
And then the lone historian in this dead and ancient world had him staring down the barrel of a motherfucking revolver.
He burst out laughing.
Chance clutched at his sides, laughing his gut out as he rolled over on Lemm's floor. Of course the one human artifact in Hallownest would be a gun. Really, was there any more human object?
"H-Hey, what's so funny! Cut that out, I'm trying to show you something important!"
After he calmed down and took a more serious look at the gun in Lemm's hand, Chance found himself… actually kind of nervous. He couldn't be certain with his memories gone, but he was pretty sure he didn't have much experience with guns. He probably never even held a gun before.
At least compared to some other guns, a revolver seemed… simple. Enough. Simple enough.
He tried to make out whatever he could; that was obviously the trigger keep finger away please thank you, that was the lever-hammer-thing, and the… cylinder. Pulling back the release on the side, he almost jumped when the cylinder opened up and fell into his palm.
"What's got you so nervous?" Lemm said more than asked, and Chance tensed up at the sudden noise. He was way too nervous right now. Opening up the cylinder fully, he looked inside.
At first glance, it appeared all six chambers were full. However, pushing down on the rod at the end of the cylinder to empty out the bullets into his hand, he found only two rounds were still live, and the other four were already fired.
...Two shots. That's all this thing was worth.
Lemm, somehow, seemed to understand. "As valuable as this artifact is, it's still a human artifact. Your artifact, if that makes sense. I don't normally make these kinds of offers, but…" He pinched the bridge of his nose, or where it'd be if he had one. "I'm willing to sell it to you, in exchange for some of those crystals you have."
Chance closed the cylinder with a click. "Wait, sell?"
"A crystal or two, plus eight hundred Geo. That's my only offer."
Chance starred at Lemm in exasperated horror before he blinked. He opened his mouth to speak, but only air came out.
Lemm, to his credit, didn't look smug about the deal, but more like he just wanted to get it over with. "What? A historical, alien weapon for a chunk of crystal? Frankly, charging you triple would be generous." He grumbled as he walked out of the room and back to where Jeremy and Tusk were.
Chance stood in the trinket room for a minute, stupefied, before he snapped back into focus. "H-Hey!", he shouted, running down the hall to follow.
"Chance!"
Whump!
Right as he'd stepped back into the main room, Jeremy had shot up and pulled Chance into a tight embrace. Now that they were both dried off, Chance couldn't help but notice how warm Jeremy was. Between his cloak, fluff, and natural human body temperature, Jeremy was like a living, heated teddy bear… with wings.
He stood there for a moment, frozen and unwilling to break out of the hug, before he hesitantly let his arms wrap around Jeremy as well.
Lemm barely looked at them. "If there's no other business you have with me, there's no more reason for you to stay, I've overextended my hospitality far enough." Tusk seemed to agree, already packing up some of their stuff and looking ready to go. "If you're lost, I saw a cartographer fellow around here earlier. He's likely somewhere in this building still."
Before he left, Chance remembered to hand Lemm one of the pink crystals, as well as eight hundred Geo. "Hey, Lemm?"
Lemm grunted. "Mhm?"
"Why are you being so nice to us?"
Lemm paused for a moment, before he looked away with a sharp laugh. Chance could see that he was trying to hide a small smile with his back turned. "No good reason. You remind me of an old friend, is all."
Chance couldn't deny how stupid he felt just about now. All this exploring and running in circled through this drowning city, and they finally got an actual map, only for Cornifer to tell them that the Nailsmith they were looking for was right behind them the entire time.
They were within, like, two minutes of the Nailsmith's workshop before. And now they had to backtrack the whole way. Cornifer had been understanding, at least.
Ah, such things are inevitable in uncharted territory! But look on the bright side; isn't this a change from those twisting natural caverns? The rain does cast something of a sadness upon it all but the architecture is simply splendid… Charting such a different space is quite the challenge, though one I've eagerly undertaken.
Jeremy and Tusk kept good enough company on the grueling walk back. Especially the former; Chance was fond of Tusk, he really was, but he didn't realize how much he was starting to miss having another voice around.
"What'dcha spend all that Geo on earlier, anyway?"
He looked at the hybrid, who'd put his hood back up. Even if he'd already revealed his identity, he still didn't feel comfortable with his face exposed. Plus, it offered some protection from the rain, for as long as it didn't soak in and make it worse.
Chance shrugged as he walked. They'd taken a detour through the main city to minimize their time spent in the rain. "Nothin' important. Just that… human artifact Lemm mentioned earlier."
"I don't think 'nothin' important' would cost eight hundred." Jeremy bumped into him playfully, "C'mon, what was it? I promise I won't tell!"
Chance looked left and right, as if someone nearby would be eavesdropping on them, before he leaned closer to Jeremy and murmured, "A revolver."
He didn't expect Jeremy to know what that was, but he definitely didn't expect his eyes to light up from under his hood.
"Ooh, ooh, like a Smith & Wesson Model 29?! O-Or a Colt Peacemaker, if you're classy? Or is it one of those Mateba Auto-Revolver thingies, or one of those modern Korth Super Sport ones?! A Dan Wesson 15-2? O-O-Or'd he give you a Chiappa Rhino, those look kinda funky-!"
Chance, starting to get overwhelmed from the tidal wave of questions and unrecognizable terms(How the fuck did he know all of this?), simply pulled out the revolver and showed it to him. Jeremy paused as he looked it over.
"...Oh."
For some incomprehensible reason, he almost sounded disappointed. It wasn't like he got to choose what gun he somehow wound up with, but despite that, Chance still couldn't help but feel a bit hurt. "Whaddya mean, 'Oh?' What is it?"
"That's a .357 Colt Python, probably the best production revolver ever made. Definitely the most popular, at least."
Chance blinked. "Oh, wow." So where'd that spark from a second ago vanish to, then?
"Yeah, it's always near the top of "Most Iconic Revolvers" lists, 'cause who can fault you for owning a Python? I mean, look at that thing," he said, holding his hand under Chance's to hold the gun up on a higher pedestal. "It's the best."
Chance forced a nervous laugh. He still wasn't super comfortable around this thing.
"Y-Yeah, the best…"
"It's the best. It's the best, it's number one, y'know?" Why did Jeremy sound like he was smiling right now. "It's the best."
Without warning, Jeremy yoinked the revolver out of Chance's hand, leaving him scrambling for it. Chance tried to jump over Jeremy, who only laughed, holding it just barely out of reach.
"It's the best, it's the best revolver, it's the best gun! It's the Cadillac of handguns! Even though they got shut down-" he laughed, stumbling away from Chance who was shouting at him to give it back- "They're still always in high demand because they're the best!"
"J-Jay, that thing's loaded!" While they fought, Tusk had stopped walking and turned around to look at them, impatience rolling off of their expressionless mask in waves.
"You use a Python because you want the best, and you DESERVE the best!" Jeremy put himself on the offensive, pushing himself forward into Chance, who stumbled backward at his advance. "And only the BEST will do!"
"JAY-!"
With a whump!, Chance tripped and fell on his back, with Jeremy falling on top of him. Jeremy's arms hung limp around his neck in a loose embrace, his face buried in Chance's shirt. They were both very still for a long moment, Chance looking at the top of Jeremy's head and uncertain of what to do.
His body shook on top of his, and Jeremy pulled himself away with tears in his eyes.
"...Y-You're the best. Why can't I... be like you?"
Chance wrapped his arms around Jeremy and pulled him closer, contorting the two of them awkwardly until they were sitting up against the nearest wall. He hesitated for a moment, before carefully grabbing his hood and pulling it down to look at his face. Jeremy only had a few tears rolling down his cheeks, trying to cover it up with a laugh, but Chance wasn't having it.
"Jay…"
"Even when you're Infected, you're still fighting for a cure, exploring this dead and empty world for something nobody else could ever find…" He sniffled. "You've been everywhere, and I've barely left my dumb cave in the Wastes up until now."
"Jay."
"Even when you know you'll probably die! You keep on fighting! You even fought the Mantis Lords for a hint of a cure! I don't have that kind of willpower. I don't have that strength, I don't have anything-"
"Jeremy."
Jeremy stopped spiraling into self-pity for a moment to look at Chance. Dark, teary yellow eyes met desperate orange ones.
"...Are you kidding? Jay, I fucking suck."
He froze in his grip, blinking as he stared up at him. He didn't know what to say.
"W-Wha…?"
"I'm only running around down here 'cause I have to be. If I could go back up to Dirtmouth and sleep for a week, I would. If I could go home, I would. But I don't even have the choice." He mumbled, before averting his gaze, rubbing a hand over his tender left arm. "And b'sides," he murmured, "I didn't stand a chance against those Lords. I was just… askin' to die, almost."
Jeremy mumbled something under his breath.
"Hm?"
"...Y-You…" despite his tears, Jeremy still had the faintest hint of a smile. "You didn't… stand a who against the Lords?"
Chance paused. "...You shut up."
Jeremy giggled again; not the manic laugh from a moment ago, but something more genuine, something happier. The two sat there in comfortable silence for a good minute, leaning on each other as they watched the rain roll down the windows, pale Lumafly light refracting into the hallway and across their bodies. Like the light reflected from waves in the water, it flowed over them unevenly, and Chance thought he wouldn't mind sitting here for a while longer.
...why'd you…?
"That's… why, y'know."
Jeremy finally spoke up, breaking the silence. Chance tilted his head slightly his way, unwilling to break their comfortable embrace just to stare him in the eye.
"I've been living in that little cave for as long as I can remember. But… I had a life outside it, once. A life in another world… your world, perhaps? But when I found my way here, I... crossed over, and…"
The silence became chilling. Chance found himself understanding far too much, and far too little.
"All I can remember is useless junk about both worlds, but... nothing personal. Nothing about who I am or where I came from. I thought… I was alone. That there was nobody else like me. But then… I saw you there. You'd lost your memory, just like me, and… there's two humans in Hallownest now." He paused. "Well, one and a half, anyway.
And I thought that… since you were fighting to get your memories back, why couldn't I as well? If I followed you long enough, maybe… I'd find something about myself. About who I am, and… why I'm here." He gripped Chance's sleeve, "I've just been cowering behind you this entire time while you do the work. I-I'm sorry. I don't know if I even…"
He trailed off, before sighing again. Chance moved his arm over Jeremy's shoulder to comfort him, when a loud CLANG! came from down the hall.
Tusk stood there, nail in hand, beckoning them to get a move on. Jeremy and Chance shared a look, before they both laughed.
"Let's… keep going."
"H-Hold up a sec!"
Chance paused, turning to look at Jeremy, who looked around the area, their expression contemplative. They were just at the foot of the hill where the Nailsmith's hut resided, and they could see the smoke billowing from the small building above. Thankfully, the cliff above them acted as an awning to protect from the rain.
Without the distraction and chill of the rain, it was tolerable.
"...Do I know this place?"
Chance blinked. "But I thought you…"
"Y-Yeah, I thought so too." Jeremy walked around, his steps careful and calculated. "...Do you mind if I… hang back for a bit? I wanna look around here."
"Are you gonna be alright?' Chance asked, concern etched across his face. Jeremy looked hesitant, but gave a slow nod.
"Yeah. You'll be just above, right? I can handle myself here… for a little while." He got down on his hands and knees, wet cloak flopping around him. "You go on ahead. I'll catch up if I find anything."
Chance took a deep breath, before he nodded. Another impatient clang! Came from atop the hill.
"I'm comin', I'm comin'...!"
Chance let his back fall against the outside of the Nailsmith's hut with a heavy sigh. The Nailsmith himself was kind enough, if a bit curt. He got to work on restoring Tusk's cracked and dull nail for 250 Geo, which was sounding like less and less with the wealth they were accumulating. (Lemm's 800 still felt like a kick to the gut, though.)
His house felt like a furnace, though, so while Tusk stayed inside to watch their old nail be restored, Chance took a step outside to breathe. Besides, he needed some time alone to think.
He was huddled near the entrance, taking in the residual heat, while his own was stolen by the outside air. A balance between two worlds.
He felt… desensitized. He'd been through too much shit in too little time and dissociating a bit was the only way he could possibly be handling this. Despite that, he was still terrified of everything; of the existential dread, of the unknown caverns sprawling in every direction with him stuck in the middle, of the feeling that he had mere weeks left to live.
How much longer did he have now, anyway? How long had it been since that night he vomited orange all over himself? It wasn't easy to tell the time down here. Though, thinking about it now, he grabbed his phone and opened it, checking the date and time.
January 9th, 2017, 1:27 PM. Weird, but alright. He had no way of telling how long he'd been down here already, though. Plus, it had run out of battery earlier, so he didn't know if it would even be accurate now.
That was another matter, too, his Soul abilities. Why? He joked to himself that he was the "party healer", but he still didn't get why he, an outsider, would have any control over this world's magic system. That, plus, he was somehow all Mr. Special with the ability to heal other people, too. It was great, but sometimes he couldn't help but feel that it was more of a burden than anything.
He gave another long sigh. "If I were a smoker, I'd be taking a looong drag right about now…" he mumbled to himself.
"Ah, there you are."
Her silky-smooth voice was like nails on a chalkboard to his paranoid ears, and Chance spun around to see a flash of red for a split second before lightning-fast strands of spider-silk spun wrapped around him.
He sharpened his Mantis Claws to cleave through the bindings, only for them to re-form and wrap thicker around his wrists and ankles, where his Claws couldn't reach them. The forces constricting him pulled him upwards and slammed him against the wall of the Nailsmith's hut, keeping him pinned no matter how he struggled.
Hornet landed on the ground before him with grace, a wisp of silk from behind her pulling her silver needle into her hand. Rising to her full height, she studied Chance as he writhed against the silk bindings.
"...You'd follow your Vessel anywhere, wouldn't you? Do you know where it is going? What it would try to do?"
Chance tugged against the silk. "W-What?"
"I'm no fool. I spied you eavesdropping on my conversation earlier. You know the Ghost would seek the Grave in Ash, far along this kingdom's very edge."
"Grave in- The fuck?" Seeing Hornet's glare, he backpedaled, "Y-Yeah, okay okay, I overheard, but I don't know what the hell you're talking about, anyway!"
Hornet walked closer, holding her needle behind her as she emphasized every step with a glint of light off of its razor-sharp blade. "And it ought to stay that way. You don't know the Vessel's drive in this corpse of a world. You don't know how it'll all end. It's better that you don't get attached."
"A-" Chance sputtered, "Attached? Tusk is-"
"And that is exactly what I mean. You're already close enough to have named the cursed thing. You're better off leaving it, and the sooner, the better for you."
"Tusk is my friend!", Chance shouted. "If you think I'm just gonna up and abandon him, you're-"
Chance yelped as the needle embedded itself into the wall just next to his neck, close enough where Chance could make out his reflection in the blade's silver sheen. Hornet glared death at him.
"You do not even know what a Vessel is," she hissed. "They are not beings. They are not alive. They are objects, objects made to serve a single purpose and be thrown away." She jutted the blade deeper into the stone wall, the blade inching ever closer to Chance's neck. "Must I spell it out for you? They were born for a suicide mission. They live to die."
In her rage, she ripped the needle right out of the stone, and to Chance's horror, swung the blade right across his chest.
"AAH-!"
Chance flinched, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for blood to spill, but none ever did. Instead, the strap of his messenger bag was sliced, leaving only a strip around the back of his neck while the bag itself tumbled to the ground, its contents spilling open.
The pink crystals, being at the bottom of the bag, stayed within. The glass jars tumbled out, a few charms scattered across the floor, his Geo pouch rolled away…
...and a single, loaded revolver fell to the ground at Hornet's feet.
She froze up at the sight of it. Her dark eyes never tore away from the shape on the ground before her, but some kind of familiarity flashed across her mask as she stared down. Chance didn't even hear her breathe as she kneeled down, her hands shaking as she wrapped her chitinous hands around the grip of the gun, feeling its weight in her palm.
She didn't even look at Chance when she started speaking again. "...Do you truly believe in your… perceived kinship, with the Vessel?"
Chance struggled to get his breathing under control, but he managed to keep a straight face. "...Y-Yes."
She rose up, staring Chance dead in the eye as she spoke. "And do you truly believe you have the strength to bear the harsher truth of this kingdom's stasis, as well as the sacrifice that keeps it standing?"
The haunting, towering statue from the city square flashed before Chance's eyes. He didn't understand anything. But he needed to keep digging through Hallownest's past, and if that meant he had to discover some horrible secret to save himself and protect Tusk, then he was willing to search for it. "Y-Yes."
Hornet, moving with a slow, calculated grace, leveled the gun barrel with Chance's head. She pressed her thumb against the hammer, cocking it with a soft click.
"And have you the will," she almost whispered, "to overcome the sickening secret that lies within yourself?"
Chance's bright orange eyes flashed with some kind of fear for a moment. ...There were a lot of secrets within himself. He didn't know anything about this disease. He didn't know where he came from or what he did. He didn't even know his own name.
He didn't know why he came to this Kingdom in the first place. A part of him longed to know. Another part of him feared knowing.
"...Yes."
Hornet took a slow, deep breath, looking Chance right in the eye, as her finger hovered over the trigger.
…
…
…
…
...
She lowered the gun.
Hornet gave a tense sigh, almost sounding relieved, or perhaps thankful? She spun around, walking away as she dropped the revolver onto his bag. The bindings around his body finally let up, and Chance fell to the ground.
Hornet turned around, taking a breath to speak, only to pause as she watched Chance scramble around the dirt to pick up all the stuff that fell out of his bag earlier. He mumbled to himself about charms and bottles and crystals, trying to remember what was there, trying to figure out what was a Geo and what was a pebble.
Hornet sighed again, looking away. "The Grave in Ash…" She heard Chance pause behind her to listen, so she kept talking. "Were I in your position… I would use the tram in Deepnest. It's the most direct path to the edge of the kingdom."
Chance's mouth gaped open slightly, uncertain of what to say. "Uhm… T-Thank you, we-"
"But remember," she spoke up, turning around to face Chance, who flinched at her sudden approach. "Deepnest is one end of the tramway, and the Ashen Edge is the other end. Do not waste your time stopping in-between." She glared at him, before letting herself relax a little, the bottom of her mask hiding in the neck of her cloak. "It is… but a foolish detour. I'm sure you don't have the time to waste down there."
Chance… seemed to consider this, before nodding slowly. "...Alright. I'll… remember that." He stood up, stumbling a bit, holding his messenger bag by the strap. "Hey, uh, why're you telling me this? I thought we were-"
"Enemies?" If Hornet was at all upset at how Chance flinched, she didn't show it. "We were never enemies. We simply… have different roles to play in this kingdom's fate, is all."
Then she noticed.
"...Y-Your bag, it…"
Chance blinked, looking down at his bag, before looking back at her. "O-Oh! Uh, thanks for fixing that, I didn't even notice! Even though you, a-ah, tore it…"
"I... " Hornet actually seemed stumped at what she was seeing, unable to comprehend the evidence before her. "I fixed nothing."
Chance's expression was… confused, but otherwise unreadable. Putting his bag back over his shoulder, he ran his fingers along the strap, trying to find any kind of microscopic tear or seem, only to come up with nothing. Hornet… wasn't sure how she felt about the implications.
"I've honed your nail's edge. You'll find it much stronger than it used to be. Head out there and test its strength against your foes."
The Nailsmith's voice broke them both out of their stupor, and Chance tried to stammer some kind of goodbye out, before Hornet spoke up.
"It's a foolish thing, but… I realize now that I never got your name."
Chance froze. His orange eyes seemed to gloss over.
Hornet huffed. "...Well? Don't tell me you gave the Vessel a name before yourself!"
Chance smiled.
"I don't have the time to just stand here and guess, you simpleton, just tell me your damn-"
"Here, sit down, I'll teach you how to decock a revolver."
Even though only two of the six rounds were live, Chance was thankful that Hornet didn't actually pull the trigger in his face and force him to play Russian Roulette. (Though, he shouldn't have been thankful that she was pointing the thing at him in the first place…)
(And how the hell did she know how to cock a gun in the first place-)
However, because she didn't fire the gun, she'd left the hammer cocked, meaning it was basically now on a hair-trigger. The Colt Python was a double-action revolver, meaning you didn't need to cock the hammer to fire; the only real difference the hammer made was that it made pulling the trigger take a lot less effort.
But unless you were planning on actually firing the thing, then cocking the hammer just left it volatile. Too much of a bump would set it off, and Chance would rather not waste his bullets.
"So what you could do here is just pull the trigger, cause that'll probably not hit a live round," Jeremy explained in a not-so-comforting way, "but this is an important thing you should know about this gun if you're going to use it, or at the very least, take care of it."
"I'm no expert, but…" Chance looked around the gun, keeping his finger firmly out of the trigger guard. "Couldn't I just, like… open the cylinder and try firing then? It won't hit anything that way."
Jeremy gagged. "Absolutely not. Dry-firing the gun'll only wear out the firing pin or even break it, making the entire thing useless. And some guns have safeties that prevent the cylinder from opening with the hammer down, though I dunno if that applies to old Pythons. Besides, there's a much easier way to do it that doesn't involve abusing your gun. Here-"
He took Chance's hands in his own, guiding his thumb towards the hammer. "It's cocked, but see how pressing it still has a bit of give? Just keep that button held down, that's the first step."
Chance nodded. "Alright. And then?"
"Tap the other button."
…
Chance look at Jeremy. Jeremy looked at Chance, struggling to keep his grin down, pursing his lips in amusement. Chance did not share the sentiment as his gaze turned to the gun in his hands.
He pointed to the cylinder release, only for Jeremy to shake his head, his smile growing wider. With mounting dread, Chance sighed, looking at the only other button on the gun.
"...Do I have to?"
Jeremy only gave him a wordless, knowing look, his shit-eating grin almost glowing. "Just tap it. Try to keep another finger wedged in the gap of the hammer, so if it accidentally goes down, it'll keep it from firing."
"Wouldn't that hurt?"
"Not really; most of the impact and recoil from a gun going off is from the bullet exploding. If the primer doesn't hit the bullet, it won't really be much more than a… click."
Nodding, Chance awkwardly positioned his fingers so he had one thumb down on the hammer, another thumb wedged between the hammer and the frame, and lastly his finger down by the trigger. For a heartstopping moment, he braced for impact, face scrunching up as he pressed down on the trigger with shaky hands.
Hearing a click, and feeling the hammer loosen, he took his finger off the trigger with haste, and slowly allowed the hammer to return to its resting position. With the gun safely de-cocked, Chance heaved a sigh of relief.
Jeremy's smile went from shit-eating to genuine. "Nice job!", he said, and Chance could tell he meant it. Chance allowed himself a nervous smile. After a few seconds of comfortable silence, he turned to look at the hybrid.
"Hey, Jay? How do you… know all of this?"
Jeremy's smile fell. He turned away, looking out through the endless rainfall that shrouded their view like a veil. "...I dunno," he said honestly. "It just all sorta comes to me. Again, I know nothing about myself, only dumb, impersonal stuff that rarely comes in handy. But," he paused, looking deep in thought as he sighed. "I seem to know stuff about both worlds. Which one was I raised in? Earth? Hallownest? Somewhere in between?"
Chance looked down. "I'm… sorry I asked, I-"
"No, don't worry about it," Jeremy managed a big smile. "We're gonna get our memories back anyway, right? You and me."
Jeremy pulled himself to his feet, stretching out before walking over down the hill, couching down near the ledge, as though looking for something. "But let's not worry about that existential stuff right now. Follow me."
"Where're you goin'?"
Jeremy turned to Chance and gave a sly, knowing smile. "I found something down here earlier. I think you'd like to see it."
Chapter name and summary are a reference to Lyin' Eyes by the Eagles.
Disclaimer: All the information about guns in this chapter was from a couple hours on Google. Please don't use a dumb Hollow Knight fanfiction as a guide on gun safety.
hornet with da gun. what crimes will she commit
a colt python sounds familiar. wonder who lemm got that from :)
please leave a comment they fuel me