First of all, I’d like to give a huge thanks to @gweniala for offering to give me constructive criticism on my writing! It has been incredibly insightful and helpful to learn the reader’s perspective on my stories, because I know I struggle sometimes with taking a step back and looking at my work as a bigger picture.
I plan to use this constuctive criticism to improve on my work and polish it even further, if I possibly can. Perhaps once the new version is edited, I’ll post it in the same way - except this time, I think I’ll post it all at once. It’ll be fun, I think, to see how little bits which are fixed bring a whole new life to the piece!
Anyway, thank you once again to Gweniala 💛 And I hope you all enjoy this part as much as the others (and as much as I do, too.)
After an hour of walking, chatting, and a short teleporty trip in a strange pod which Klango found very fascinating, the pair stood before the doors of a tall castle. Soft, golden light seeped from underneath the cracks of the door, and from windows high above, indicating that at least one person was awake inside.
Kleff stepped forward and pushed open one of the double doors, beckoning Klango inside. But before the hoop-head stepped forward, he hesitated.
He had a feeling that this was not a castle that he belonged in.
But before he could speak up about it, his new klay pal grabbed him by the wrist, tugging him into the warmth of the building, and the feeling dissipated, replaced by calmness and a sense of being at home.
They roamed the halls of the castle, up stairs and elevators, Kleff naturally being in the lead, until they stopped in front of a door with a strange marking on it, like a lightning-bolt. Well, Klango stopped. His friend continued on into the room, only turning back to give him a quizzical look. The feeling from before had gripped him again - the feeling of not belonging, and it was stronger than before. It twisted in his gut like an awful, uncomfortable worm, but he forced himself forward anyway. Like before, as soon as he crossed the threshold of the doorway, the feeling dissolved.
He trailed along behind Kleff shyly as the being advanced into the room. Looking around, it all felt kind of. . . familiar. As if he had perhaps seen it in a dream once before; but if he had, the dream seemed to have softened with age.
Lining the walls were large sculptured busts, which, after some scrutiny, Klango recognised to be six out of the seven of the Sons of Quater. And, after standing beside the statue of Ottoborg and trying to figure out which king was missing, his eyes wandered further up the room - and there he was.
While Klang had been focused on the statues, Kleff had been talking quietly to the king, and apparently they had asked him a question, as they were both staring at him.
He glanced around awkwardly, before admitting: “I. . . didn’t hear that. What was the question?”
The king let out a deep, pleasant chuckle, the sound altogether comforting. Kleff just rolled their eyes, grinning.
“I was simply asking if you were a son of Ottoborg, y’see - You look strikingly similar to another of his sons that lives here.” Hoborg’s voice was like caramel - thick, slow, and smooth.
“N-no-” Klang stammered slightly, as memories of his jokes with Heryl began to trickle back into his mind. “Uhm, I mean. . . I don’t know where I came from, sir. I mean, I came from a flying chunk of land, but otherwise. . . I don’t know how I came to be.”
“I see. . .” The cuboid king paused for a moment, then leant forward slightly. “Have you read the Hall of Records?”
Klang nodded slowly. “Yes - I spent some time on Guhrli, world of the Proto-Skullmonkeys, and I read the Hall there.”
“Then have you read your own entries?”
Klango spluttered as he drew too sharp of a breath. “M. . . My entries. . .?”
“So you haven’t?” Hoborg inquired. Kleff flicked their head back and forth, as if intently watching a game of competitive Goofball.
“To be completely honest, I had no idea I was even in the Hall!” A smile began to spread across Klang’s face. “In which part?”
“Turn around.” The king instructed. The gentle smile that he would be wearing expressed itself through his tone.
Turning around, Klango found himself face-to-face with the statue of Ottoborg.
Klango gazed up at a small illustration on the wall of the Hall of Records.
True to the king’s word, Klango had gone back to read the Story of Ottoborg, and found a new addition at the end of it; about a lost son, brought to life from Ottoborg’s land by Quater. He had spent the last few hours, reading and re-reading and re-re-reading it over again. Currently, the entry ended with “He read, re-read and re-re-read his own story, over and over,” meaning that his story was not yet finished. Klang was scared to tear himself away, but he could hear his new pal Kleff growing impatient at the start of the long corridor, so he managed to tear himself away and return to the outside word.
Behind him, the wall updated itself.
“Hey!” He called out to Kleff, making the ‘hoodian turn. “If this is really the home of Hoborg-”
“You met him yourself.” They chuckled.
“Yeah, but-” Klang jogged up to Kleffs side, stopping for a second to catch his breath, “Does that mean- Does Willie Trombone live here, too?”
The Lakewall Car puttered to a stop, just below a window, incredibly high off the ground. Kleff turned in their seat to look back at Klango, who was looking rather ill. “Klang? We’re here.”
Klang just make a sick sort of mumbling sound. Then, he remembered just who the pair were visiting, and he brightened right up; seemingly forgetting that they were suspended high in the air, in a tiny cart. “Oh, kool! So Willie lives up here? How does he cope?”
Kleff just shrugged. “As you read in the Hall. . . He’s not very bright. But he’s sweet! I think you’ll like him a lot.” They gave Klang a reassuring smile, then gestured to the window.
Klango stood, with shaky legs, and reached up to grip the windowsill. Standing on tentative tiptoes, he peeped into the room, and almost fell backwards again. Sitting in the room, on a very comfy looking bed, was a being who was most definitely his brother. Or at least, a strangely accurate doppelganger.
“. . . Hello?” The other hoop-head didn’t move, so Klang tried again, a little louder. “Hello?” Still nothing.
Gripping the edge of the entrance to the room, Klango hauled himself up onto the sill, and dropped quietly into the room. He could hear the Lake-Car puttering away below him, the sound gently fading into the background. He stood, walking slowly over to Willie, a little nervous. Willie was sitting on his bed peacefully, eyes closed and a slight smile curving his lips. “Um. . . Willie? Willie Trombone?”
Klang jumped as Willie sat up suddenly, grinning at Klang. “Hello! Me Willie. Who are you?”
Slightly taken aback, but wanting to make a good first impression, Klang smiled back at his newfound brother. “Hi! Um. . . Me Klango! I’m kind of, uh, your brother?. . .”
Willie’s smile, if possible, grew even wider, and he hopped up immediately and embraced Klango.
“Welcome to Neverfamily, new brother!”
