[A weight lifts as soon as the Shade Lord leaves.
A heavy thing. Suffocating. Pressing in at all sides like that which... buried their egg prior to hatching. Twisted and sharp like the shattered shells of their own kin, but far more empowered by the... overwhelming chaos of emotions (painfully pulled at from all directions, mainly by grief, horror, guilt, stress, and a bit of anger) and thoughts spinning through their mind in a dizzying array of half formed words. A sort of chaos that's only quelled by concrete action. By doing something (of use) with all that coiled energy. By the knowledge that doing what they do, no matter how small, aids in protecting the bugs of this city.
Fulfilling their own knightly oath; in service eternal to those that most require it, within Hallownest's bounds or not.
Nothing matters more than that.)
And yet, they continue to stay in place. They continue to blankly stare where their sibling once stood.
Relief trickles in. Slow. Languid. Their mind calms; a greater sense of peace instilled. Clarity trickles in, like wiping away smudged glass, and... with it, that relief is immediately displaced.
(Except other things do matter nonetheless.)
Their gaze shifts down to the gift left behind; the action itself finally registering properly. And then, understanding loops back in full circle from the way the situation appeared (warding against Void, withholding information, telling them to just... leave, the way they did as if an imposition or... burden of some sort) to how... upset their sibling had seemed upon leaving. A thing that could not register before. That did not penetrate the thick and invisible wall stood out before them, but now that it's been dropped... now that they truly understand...
... shame creeps in, cold and sharp. How awful... is it of them to have felt... relieved. Hand of black shell drags across their face, pressing over their eyes, as a harsh exhalation of breath is slowly dragged out and they shake their head.
It must have seemed like they had rejected them. Rejected them in a deeper way than intended. And in a way, some part of that is true.
Not in the ways of what they are but...
Admittedly. Some part of Holly didn't know how to go about explaining the situation to their sibling.
Seeing father shambling around in such a state... it was worse than anything they had ever imagined. It cut deeper than they had expected; than they had ever thought possible. It shook them in a way all too... familiar. Being infected. Rotting. All they could see is their own situation, over and over and over again, the pain and madness and desperation of it all and feel... hurt for him... agonized, over it.
Feel as though they... failed, somehow for being unable to spare him from it, the way they had hoped to spare others from the infection.
And yet, they had to appear strong nonetheless. They continue to feel that pull, that tug towards never faltering. Never wavering. And that pull in turn, had turned into harshness. Into bluntness too direct. In a distinct lack of sympathy; a coldness unlike them.
Some part of them didn't want to explain it.
That part had soured. Resisted in ways most uncharacteristic. A bit... childish in some ways.
They know how the Shade Lord feels about father. They understand why and see more than enough justification and yet...
... they still didn't want to hear it.
They didn't want to chance (potentially) hearing a hiss of satisfaction at the irony of the situation or a jab or mockery or whatever imagined cruelties they thought might come their way--directed at them or not--no matter how justified. Not even a simple assertion of how much the Pale King is disliked for things done or how terrible a father he was or the way he had... mistreated Holly themself
They know all of that already.
And yet, hate him they could not. Not even for that.
Not even before he changed.
And deep down, they know that even if he had never changed... they would still hold love for him. It might twist, pull, or sour over time--as it had started to before he had relented--but they would still love him.
Unlike the Shade Lord--justified as they are and perhaps less... foolish than one such as Holly themself--they simply cannot bring themself to hate the man. Perhaps they should, but they simply do not. Even less so now after all the moments shared and tears mended.
They had seen father without the mask. And he too, in turn, had come to truly see Holly themself. Had loved and accepted them as is.
To them that means... everything.
They blink, almost bemused, as a realization sinks in.
That's just... it, isn't it?
That point of... divisiveness. It'll always be there. Always exist.
And ordinarily that's not a problem, but when it comes to matters such as these? they can quite plainly see how much troubles it can cause. How much this particular point of contention can come to... sting, without them meaning for it to.
They inhale and slowly enhale. Soothing. Calming.
And then, they move (at last), after standing for far too long, and crouch down to pick up the gift left behind. Claws, metal and shell, pluck at it curiously and feel around the outside as if trying to discern what it is this way... before, abruptly overwhelmed by something they can't fully parse out now, they press it close to their chest.
Cherished. Safe. Protected; more yet once it disappears into the darkness of their green cloak and they stand up with a sigh.
Still. They do care. It does matter that feelings were hurt.
And so... apologize, they should. But later on.
They need to resume their work.]
