I wanted to take the time to compile all the characterization tidbits we get from various NPCs' reactions to & impressions of them in one place for reference.
Appearance/ physical characteristics
several NPCs describe them as rather skinny/scrawny looking. Indeed one of the Ghosts in the spirit's glade notes that they seem to have an 'underdeveloped shell' and probably should give up on travelling dangerous places (unaware, of course, that they haven't let it stop them from kicking ass & taking names for 200 years or so)
Despite this, they're apparently rather attractive, judging by the thirstings of Bretta & Salubra (both of which seem to consider their horns a particularly striking feature) - which leads me to imagine that they might roughly be the answer to "what if Peter Dinklage was a bug" - (as an example of someone who obviously 'has something' but in other ways handsome enough to draw hordes of fangirls)
According to Divine of the Grimm troupe, they have many different smells clinging to them, but don't have one of their own (the former likely being a result of their adventuring & the latter of the void)
According to Karina the Moth Ghost they "bear no markings of rank" - she seems knowledgeagle enough to suspect that they might be a Higher Being, but isn't quite sure if they aren't 'just another lowly grub'.
Cornifer can't tell if they have any sort of smell organ (though, he might've been expecting something more like his own trunk.)
they're usually somewhat messy/weather-stained/tousled looking - Lemm, Zote & Emilitia both comment on them being a bit "tattered/dirty"/ "soggy"
If you look past the lack of bling, however, they seem to have a striking resemblance to their father (Emilitia even briefly mistakes them for him at one point... but then quickly dismisses the possibility that they could be nobility. They probably don't act like it, effectively having been abandoned in the wilderness / grown up like a street urchin.)
Their sprite doesn't change with their equipment, but they've visibly got the shade cloak draped around them after acquiring it (which Hornet comments on)
interestingly they can't see in the dark despite being made of living shadow, little 'hybrid mismatch' of being a creature made of Void & Soul. (I'd presume they can somehow tell where they're going shade form)
The "cloak" is actually their wings (visible in their double jump animation - Sly's cloak/wings kinda drawn the same way) - presumably those were rendered unusable by the void bath but work if supplemented by the monarch wings. Presumably the same thing is true of the Pale King's "robe".
Godseeker describes them as 'Eater of Soul', so, it might be that they live off of the stuff (void is generally said to consume all soul/life, & shadow creepers don't eat anything). They might not have/make their own (Jiji says they have 'so soul') & hence have to take in animating force from the outside - despite this I do think they prolly have a physical mouth, they're just not drawn unless opened as a general art style thing, Isma's tear is described as a fruit & they're said to have consumed it.
Their slight glow/shine is diegetic (Bretta describes it - granted, she was in fangirl mode. )
They definitely count as a Higher Being (both their parents are one & they can read the 'higher beings only' tablets) - the question is, would they have counted as a Pale Being. We've heard of non-pale wyrms & roots; seems to be some individuals being born as especially strong & something you are or aren't. (cf. Hornet being described as "child born pale") - & it seems you get considered nobility by default (like a queen bee would be) Some NPCs do refer to them as 'pale thing' & they glow a bit (though this might reflect them just being touched by the influence of one, like the random ferns) On the other hand, the Mask Maker tells them how 'only the ancient caste attempted this vast rule & they still failed' like they don't count as 'Ancient Caste'. Plus their color scheme isn't all achromatic, their wings are blue. They would've been just a 'regular' Higher Being if not for the void.
Personality
Aside from the arrogant sorts (Tiso, Zote etc.) that underestimate them & get uppity, most NPCs recognize them as a seasoned warrior & experienced traveller/adventurer. (Quirrel observed that "You'd probably be quite intimidating if you were taller")
The main characteristic that gets repeatedly pointed out is that they are brave, fearless & unflappable.
According to Seer, they're a quick learner. The Hunter also notes them to be inquisitive ('seeking to understand')
the Snail Shaman finds the glow-up they gave to his spell kinda creative ('unique & expressive' even)
Ogrim finds them to have a chivalrous, heroic vibe (which probably means something coming from Mr. Lawful Good(TM)) - they do pretty often stop along their path to rescue bystanders in distress (such as Sly, Bretta, Cloth, even Zote, twice, though he wasn't very grateful the 1st time around)
He also describes themas having a 'noble bearing' (that's probably noble as in heroic, not as in aristocratic) & notes that this reminds him of the Pale King. (they're compared more than once, not just in looks but in personality as well - WL considers them alike in their 'dedication & resolve', and Bardoon implicitly compares their willingness to attempt impossible tasks.)
Quirrel, The Snail Shaman & Jinn describe them as lacking facial expression. Part of that might be the general 'unreadableness' of the void, but probably not entirely, considering their non-void relatives also somewhat stoic and/or pokerfaced.
Mato thinks they're a bit uncertain of their strength/ unsure of their worthyness, & reassures them about this
Both Oro & the Hunter however also note them as having a thirst to become stronger (might be related to proving themselves)
Godseeker speculates that they want to prove themselves equal to the Pure Vessel/ Hollow Knight (but also kinda get to know them / "draw closer together")
There's a notable shift after obtaining the voidheart, that is described by Jiji as having fully made peace with one's regrets after 'wanding through the darkness' or by Jinn as 'vulnerable, yet triumphant' - probably a sort of deep self-acceptance/ zen-like enlightenment
The following contains a bit more interpretation/ not that explicitly stated, but:
They're attached to their weapon (Quirrel repeatedly tells them to get a new one but they just... don't, until he gives up & points them to the Nailsmith to get their old one fixed) - one may presume that it's their "orphan's plot trinket"/ only reminder of where they came from. The way it's described as the traditional weapon of Hallownest is probably the first hint that they've been there before.
They're somewhat trusting (Milibelle, the Distant Villagers, the Shaman etc.) but usually able to fight their way out of the consequences. WL also states they'd be naive to trust the Grimmchild. It stands out in hindsight compared to how Hornet is much more vigilant & guarded overall.
They probably have some sense of whimsy & playfulness (they can splash ppl in the hot springs, for example, which Hornet won't do even that one time Sherma asks her to)
we can also infer some compassion from the action of giving flowers to ppl who seem lonely & taking the time to listen to Marissa - Quirrel also gets the impression at one point that they feel sorry for the zombified miners.
It's possible that they like songs/music, though they are likely physically incapable of singing (they also listen to Myla's musical endeavors for example)
they're also probably less goal oriented than Hornet is (in her game clear goal from the start, whereas the Knight just curiously meanders around until they stumble across the plot in a much less linear progression)
from how the quickslash charm description parallels their backstory, we might infer similar motivation ("the imperfect nails still long to be wielded"), they want to prove themselves as a worthy knight / find a purpose despite not being chosen. The joke is that they're kind of in the collosseum for the same reason as Zote, even if they haven't let it turn them into a jerk.
this is an AU where they have figured out how to create an Eridian body for Grace and record his conciseness to be transferred into it! my tag for this is Eridian Grace, and my asks are open!!
I've been inspired by lots of other amazing works of art, so I wanna give some credit! - this adorable design by pomellon inspired my coloring for Graces Eridian body - this fic by startingatmidnight gave me so many great ideas for Eridian culture and biology - this fic by thederpypikachu is so cute and fun!
general info -
I've both read the book and watched the movie, so I've taken stuff form both. This is not shipping Grace and Rocky, they are just really great friends! I love the idea they are platonic soulmates, and Grace is aroace. Grace also still identifies as a man, and uses he/him pronouns for himself- and Rocky. As an Eridian Grace is slightly younger than Rocky, but larger. Grace continues teaching his students after he adjusts.
posts -
first design - Grace sounds like a hatchling - Grace gets a carving - Eridian textiles - clingy Grace - cuddle pile - Grace staying awake -
and... I'm writing a fanfic!!
I'll find a new place to be from - Chapter 1 - fluffnuggets - Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir, Project Hail Mary (2026) [Archive of Our Own]
If no one draws the Noble Sire of Deepnest then I'll be the first.
A statue of a Trilobite from the labyrinth of Deepnest was taken as a concept of this... OC? Can it be called as an 'OC'?.. well, technically yes, I suppose, it was long dead before an epidemic, so nobody knows what it was and how did it looked like.
I believe that the statue of a Trilobite is something like a memento for the lost king of Deepnest, protected with runes of Weavers, maybe Herrah's herself.
I don't know if she loved him (nobody knows unfortunately) but I'd like to think so.
Well, I believe that Herrah got her pretty belly after Hornet's birth. Maybe just before she became one of the Dreamers.
She was one of Weavers after all, and they all are, um... a bit skinny, I suppose? I don't think Herrah was different at the beginning. Who knows what happened with her in Hallownest...
pov you were planned with a complicated dorkass dad contrasting with the fact you now have an accident baby so youre trying your best not to mirror your complicated dorkass dad
microfic inspired by @caezavio ‘s au that has immediately buried itself into my brain
—
shakra finds hornet where the spider said she’d be, just outside of bellhart, hidden in the lush growth of shellwood.
she had not told shakra anything about the purpose of this meeting; only that it was urgent, and dire. shakra shook at the thought of what this weaver-wyrm-godling would consider dire, after everything they’d gone through to protect this kingdom already.
she brushes a leaf away to find hornet sitting on the ground, cradling something in her arms out of view, twisted to protect it with her body. choked sobs spilled from her fangs, and her whole being shook.
no, this wasn’t good at all.
shakra did her best to announce her coming, allowing her footsteps to fall heavier than usual, rustling the foliage to announce her presence, but hornet still startled when shakra softly called her name.
she turned to shakra with huge eyes, puffy and wet with tears, a look of sheer *fear* that shakra had never seen on the spider’s face before, and it shook shakra to her core.
“….hornet wielding needle? what…” shakra couldn’t think of a single thing to ask. hornet wasn’t okay. hornet needed help. these did not need to be said aloud.
“… what has happened to you?” she asked instead, lowering herself to rest on her knees and look at hornet levelly, trying to hide her rapidly beating heart from betraying her worry.
hornet’s mouth opened and shut without a sound. she sniffed, a sound that made shakra’s heart tear in two. she had never seen hornet wielding tears. it scared her to her core.
hornet said nothing. instead, she turned her body enough to show what she had been hiding in her arms the whole time.
it shone with soul, bright enough that shakra had to squint and wince against the light. when her vision steadied she froze.
it looked like a small, downy spider, with six wide teary eyes and six nubby limbs, pure white and gossamer like silk.
beneath, on the ground, was a broken silk spool, one shakra recognized as the weaver spools hornet used to carry her silk reserves.
hornet choked back another sob.
“i don’t… i don’t know… i didn’t mean to, i don’t how i did this, i dont know-“ she doubled over again, fresh tears spilling, claws tightly wrapped around the silken grub.
shakra was shaken. she knew of the tales - the truths, of the white knight’s origins, now. thanks to hornet, who had brought Lace Wielding Pin to the town of Bellhart and had told only her the circumstances of Lace’s birth, spun from fragile silk thread, made to be her goddess mother’s perfect child soldier. she had shook with rage then, promising Lace her loyalty, for a friend of Hornet was a friend of Shakra. Now, she shook with grief for Hornet’s suffering, and shock at what had transpired before her.
Hornet had given birth.
In an unconventional sense - but still born of her body, her silk. however unintentional it may have been, this silk-child was here, now. Alive.
Shakra reached out her claws, gesturing at the babe. Hornet recoiled, eyes wild in fear, in a similar fashion to a new mother terrified her baby may be taken from her - a look she had seen many a time in her travels, but never one she imagined seeing on Hornet’s face. it was crumbling her already broken heart into dust.
“i will not harm the babe, Hornet.” shakra spoke low, as calm and comforting as she could. she let a rumble smooth from her throat. hornet breathed deep, but her shoulders unclenched, just a little - but enough for her to shakily allow shakra to take the grub from her hands. she cradled the babe in her arms, as she had been taught long ago with the wasp’s delicate grubs, and couldn’t help but marvel at how soft they were, how bright their little eyes shone up at her, as innocent as they would ever be.
she didn’t look away from the baby as she spoke, saving hornet the pain of eye contact, for the moment.
“what happened?”
hornet took another deep, shuddering breath, and spoke. how angry she was to be denied a family - by her mother, who gave her life in exchange; her father, who ran like a coward; her siblings, who sank away back into the eternal sea - and now from the goddess she had slain, for cursing her bloodline, cursing her with never having the chance to be a normal bug with a family of her own - and that’s when it had happened. in a flash of silk and soul, suddenly she had pulled a crying tangle of silk with six nubby limbs out of her silk reserves, living and breathing.
it was like instinct she recalled, weaving the grub its eyes, a proper mouth, the senses to hear and smell. it had ceased its wailing, but left hornet questioning everything she was.
“what have i done, shakra?” she whispered, holding herself tight, staring down at the ground.
“… that seems self-evident, brave hornet. you have created a child.”
hornet heaved a silent cry. shakra cursed herself for her own unrelenting honesty. what else could she say, though? everything was right there, shiny and tender in her arms.
“i have woven something like a child… why? for my own selfish desires?” she spat venom at the ground. “is this what the Grand Mother has decreed? her last act of revenge - to make me become just like her…” hornet balled herself tightly, holding her forehead to her knees, claws digging into the cloak around her shoulders so tight it had begun to tear.
shakra wasn’t thinking when she grabbed that claw tearing into her shoulder and lifted it, holding onto it tightly between them. hornet looked up at her with a shocked expression. shakra knew better than to be so bold with another warriors claws - but right now, hornet was not an adversary. she was a friend, a hurting soul in need.
“listen to me, hornet of weavers.”
hornets gaze held steady.
“you are nothing like the Monarch.”
hornet tried to protest, but shakra refused to let her.
“you have proven time and time again you are nothing like the pale beings you share as kin - for you are kinder, stronger, far more worthy of respect for you do not demand it, but earn it!
“i have never seen a pale being walk amongst us like you, talk to us as peer and friend, listen to our worries and wishes. you are better than them, hornet.”
she shifted her body closer, laying on her hip rather than her knees, to bring hornet’s hand back to where shakra cradled the grub in her other elbow, to set her hand against the softness of the grub’s silken fur. hornet shook, but did not pull away, eyes locked on the grub’s, who chose that moment to yawn and blink sleepily.
“if anybody can end this cycle of suffering… you can.”
“how could i, when it’s all i know?”
“because i know you would never want to inflict what you have been through upon another.”
hornet brushed her claws against the grub, feeling the silky texture.
“i don’t know how.”
“nobody does, Hornet Wielding Hope.” Hornet snapped up to look at her, surprised by the new title.
“all mothers fear that they cannot give their offspring the future they deserve. no bug is capable of guaranteeing that.” she looks deeper into Hornets eyes. Scared, confused, and sad, a deep sadness that stretched for generations of aunts before her.
“You told me your mother gave everything to give you a future.”
Hornet nodded, numbly.
“Then here. Remember that sacrifice. Honor it.” Shakra placed the silken babe back into Hornets arms, manually moving her to hold the baby comfortably. Hornet could not look away from its sleeping face.
“Even if by accident, this one now lives. There is no going back. You have this responsibility now.”
Hornet gasped. “i can’t do this alone.”
“you won’t. you have all of bellhart-“ shakra gestured in the direction of the town- “you have the bugs of the citadel shrine, the pilgrims of the refuge settlement. you have Lace, and me, and every ally you have made in this kingdom.”
Hornet looked at her like she had never realized this fact until now. Shakra held her gaze and nodded. “by my word, my friend. we are by your side.”
hornet nodded back. she still shook, tears still spilled from her eyes, but she leaned into shakra and shakra let her, cradling her head to her chest and setting her chin upon her crown.
by my Master, and every warrior before me - give me the strength to protect this being who has gone through so much, and yet has never found the peace she so rightly deserves.
1. Malevolent part 40 “The Order” II // 2. Marina Ianova Tsvetaeva, Poem Of The End // 3. Malevolent part 21 // 4. Chen Chen, Nature Poem // 5. Malevolent part 21 // 6. Ace Song - Izzie Burton // 7. Clarice Lispector, The Stream of Life // 8. Malevolent part 21 // 9. O My Heart - Mother Mother // 10. Malevolent part 22 // 11. Leah Horlick, For Your Own Good // 12. Malevolent part 21 // 13. Roadkill - Searows // 14. Malevolent part 21 / Malevolent part 22 / Wanderer by Joseph Feely // 15. Malevolent part 22 // 16. @starparkdesigns (Instagram) // 17. Malevolent part 22 // 18. “How to Be a Dog” by Andrew Kane // 19. Malevolent part 22 // 20. halfabed - clem turner // 21. Malevolent part 22 // 22. Franz Kafka, The Castle // 23. Malevolent part 22 // 24. Against the Kitchen Floor - Will Wood // 25. Janet Fitch, White Oleander // 26. Malevolent part 22 // 27. @metamorphesque (x) // 28. Malevolent part 40 “The Order” II // 29. Judas’ Gift by Adam Phillips // 30. @/lostaffections (Twitter)
I actually just want to get this one done so I can move on to other ones but I hope it's good enough I've been working on it for ages. Anyway I’m going to chew through drywall if I see someone say Yellow is genuinely uncaring again. The FAÇADE.
Ask to tag
YELLOW: I... I... (Quieter.) Why you, John? What did you have to offer? Why does he care about... you?
JOHN (softly): Because... I care about him.
Either love is...
- A shrine?
- or else a scar.
YELLOW: What is that?
ARTHUR: A poem.
YELLOW: You wrote it?
"Why can't you see me? Why can't I stop / needing you to see me?"
YELLOW: Why did you share that?
ARTHUR: Because... it's beautiful. It makes me feel strong. It makes me... feel. (He sighs.) Doesn't it make you?
YELLOW (uncertain): I suppose.
And it's not something I'm missing
Not something that I need
But when you said something's wrong
We both know that you meant me
I'm restless and harsh and
despairing. Although I do have
love inside me. I just don't know
how to use love. Sometimes it
tears at my flesh, like barbs.
YELLOW: Does it hurt?
And I throw my heart into the fire
'Cause, I want to set my heart on fire
And I watch it try befriending embers
But the ice don't melt in mid-December
YELLOW: Because I'm trying to understand. You want that, right? You wanted me back here, you wanted my friendship. So tell me what I have to do.
ARTHUR: To what end?
YELLOW (frustrated): To any fucking end. Did you even want your body back?
for you, ready. You'll never recover from that kind of devotion. Little lights
YELLOW: Wait.
ARTHUR: What?
YELLOW: There are... snowshoes, next to the door.
And maybe I'm crazy
But some part of me had to care for you
What would it take for me to be cared for, too?
ARTHUR: We can always turn back if there's nothing for us out here.
YELLOW: You keep saying 'us' as if we're one.
ARTHUR: It's an old habit. (He walks through the snow.)
YELLOW: Fine. Then let's leave. We've paid, slept. You've shaved, taken a much-needed bath. Is there anything else for us here?
ARTHUR: I don't want to hurt you. (Gentle, optimistic piano melody.) I never have. I can be a real pain... when you cross me the wrong way, don't get me wrong, and - and don't say anything about that, but... I don't lavish causing strife. I don't - I don't enjoy making others suffer. I don't like hurting people.
YELLOW: People.
ARTHUR (scoffing, splashing water): You don't have to be a human to be a person, Yellow.
- How many times can the same thing break your heart?
- As long as you love it
YELLOW: What's that?
ARTHUR: God, look, I promise you, we can talk about all of this soon, when I'm not so hungover. For now, I just want to shave and head back to the room.
YELLOW: Right.
A fugitive is also a kind of dog. Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love. You must learn to be confused but never disappointed by a deficiency of love.
YELLOW: We're at the edge of the woods. This is where we came through last night. Your snowshoes are around here somewhere.
ARTHUR: My what? (Shocked.) Oh, Jesus! I completely forgot.
YELLOW (slightly smug): I noticed.
i sing a song to you
with lyrics i can't
even pronounce
with lyrics that
predate words
the melody won't
come out.
YELLOW: I don't know, Arthur! I see the mountain on the horizon, I'm leading us there. What do you want from me?
ARTHUR: Some communication, Yellow! (Frustrated) God damn it.
I swear, I'm really trying
Oh, I'm sorry, I promise, I'm doing my best
I just haven't learned how to be human as you are yet
Isn't it funny. I'm enjoying my hatred so much more than I ever enjoyed love. Love is temperamental. Tiring. It makes demands. Love uses you, changes its mind. But hatred, now, that's something you can use. Sculpt. Wield. It's hard, or soft, however you need it. Love humiliates you, but Hatred cradles you.
YELLOW: You're... sorry?
Rage, that is love - rotten!
Rage, that is desire - rotten!
Rage! - like a prayer, unanswered, ricocheting from your ceiling and landing right onto your eyes, never quite reaching where it was meant to.
ARTHUR: I know. I'm not apologizing for you.
entrusted to secrecy in Judas' story is that betrayal is one of the forms revelation takes. Betrayal is an uncanny form of intimacy. Somewhere in ourselves we associate being loved with being betrayed, and being betrayed with growing. And we do a lot of work trying not to know this when it is, in fact...
he doesn't hate him, he came to realize, and that's what he hated.
prguitarman
dededos
theartofmadeline
germansingergirl
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
discoholicmusic
kianamaiart
2087
snowghoul
