Tsaersha the Traveler

Just a trader and a traveler making her way best she can through these wild lands ~~°~*•*~°~~ Hollow Knight/Pharloom OC to blog, feel free to ask and interact, read pinned post

[the-flickering-wanderer]

Well, the roads here certainly aren't too terrible......

Hopefully, everything keeps moving to smooth sailing, and there aren't any further troubles. I'd hate to have to stop just because some beastie got at the wheels again....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi! Welcome to the RP blog for Tsaersha, a Hollow Knight/Silksong OC that's been floating around me, Mod Kitty/Mod Cat ( @kitty-da-insane ) head for a while. Saw the chaos going down on Pharloomblr and had to join in.

Little Bit of Lore:

Tsaersha is a firefly/moth mix, although mostly firefly. She has her two little brothers, Neeko and Mio that's she's raising all by herself. She used to be an aerial silk dancer for the Grimm Troupe before a nasty accident left her with a burnt wing. Now she travels about in her wagon doing her best to adventure and balance two young (nine cycles/year ish) hatchlings, and avoiding danger. Might be a bit shy and wary and first, but once warmed up, incredibly loyal. (If you want more, feel free to ask or message, I'm mentally unwell about her)

Tags:

[musing by the kettle] Text posts and story prompts/general IC posting

[Got a Letter!] Ask replies

[Spun a yarn] Important Tsaersha lore posts

[Sketch me a pretty thing] Art posts and reblogs

[Wanderer's Lute] In Character song recommendations and Tsaersha Themesongs

[Friends and Acquaintances welcome in] Interactions with Tsaersha's friends/nonanons

[kindred embers] Interactions with other Grimm Troupe or Ex Grimm Troupe Members

[Crickets and Caldersnaps!] General OOC

[Mod Cat can voice act!] When Mod Kitty here decides she wants to voice act a few posts for funsies

Rules:

Spoilers for Silksong and Hollow Knight may occur here. We're done for it, we love the lore

No NSFW, suggestive is okay

Ships are welcome. More than welcome to ask, we're just down to have fun

RP blogs are welcome to interact

Some asks might get replies with art, doodles, handmade little sprite edits and so forth, but not a guarantee. As Tsaersha's an OC, I have to draw all her little motions by hand and I get busy

Added addendum, I might draw your character interacting with Tsaersha! Not a guarantee, but given Mod Kitty here likes to share wip, you'll know if I'm drawing you

Just try to be polite, it'll be fun!

Arcs:

These are bound to be messy, as much like older shows, several storylines can happen all at once

[Enter the Rootlets] Tsaersha Adopted some Root Buds and learns about parenthood

[Nosk Sighting] Rumors of Another and various Nosks close by

[Another Child] Here for evil reasons for now :3

[Bee in my House] Tristam the Hive Knight comes to say hello

[Burning Bridges] When Scarlet the Grimmchild's actions had unintended consequences for regular folks (There's a lot of Grimmchildren running around lol)

[Bedtime Tsaersha] That time Tsaersha was forced to sleep by the Sandman

[The Starlight Blinds] Posts with the Eternal Archivist

[The Paint Arc] The time ya'll made Tsaersha blue and then orange

[Crisis Identity] Brokey is very sick and Tsaersha is worried

[tsaersha crime arc] Chat convinces Tsaersha to go graverobbing

[Sins of the Past]

Stat Posts:

Character Sheet

Weirdo Sheet

Warble/Crest Sheet Post

Appearance:

[the-flickering-wanderer]

Arkus has went a long while without seeing Tsaersha. Partially because, in his efforts to learn more trades, he has taken up sewing and made her a lovely red dress. Or, he hopes it's lovely. He also hopes she actually likes the color red, as he never asked - he got too caught up in the craft itself. This one is just the best of many, of course. There were so many attempts to get here that he lost track. But he's quite happy with the finished product - a dress that should look quite flattering on the firefly, but has a sort of sharp edge to it. With this and a basket of vegetables in tow, he makes his way to Tsaersha's ... he stares. @arkus-the-ironclad

*As someone who had become used to the sight of Tsaersha's warm cottage and hospitality nestled within the Moss Grotto's comforting green caverns, the current sight before it was a jarring shock to the system. Where once light had spilled through stained glass windows, where once stood a little door and plants as friendly faces to the weary, now...*

*Now it stood quiet, cindered and scorched. The flagstones were covered in singe marks, the door ajar off its hinges. Evidence of where flame licked against the wood of her porch was a stark contrast to shriveled curtains that once hung open.*

*But the appearance couldn't have been as bad as the crushing silence. Normally there would be the chatter of her children, Tsaersha's humming, her busywork to go along with the sounds of life. And now, now it was quiet, too quiet, breath stilled in waiting, only compounded by the roof crumbling and caving in over what had to be the nursery she'd put so much love into.*

*Quiet. Too Quiet.*

*And quiet usually meant gone.*

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"... Tsaersha?" He calls out, knowing he'll receive no answer. ... It takes him a moment to muster up the courage to walk into the charred wreckage of the cottage. It is so easy to walk through the smoldering remains of someone's life when it is not that of one you love. He quells the rage in his heart, for now. There are children to think of, and he must find them before he turns his attention to Tsaersha. It is what she would prioritize, too, and he can't let any harm come to the little ones. So he fights back his anger and his rising fear, and looks for any sign of the children.

[the-flickering-wanderer]

*The house, predicably, is a ruin. Cinders litter the floorboards, curtains shrivelled upward in gnarled fingers of soot stained jeweltones. Tsaersha's kitchen, once a warm gathering spot for friends and company, now stood a cold wreck, ash blown in from the broken windows.*

*The trail of destruction is a wild one at best, shelter taken at odd corners and lance points, where a firefly had used her knowledge to give herself cover, yet she wasn't here now. But no.*

*No, the trail of destruction started in the nursery. And that, that was not a comforting thought at all.*

*The wax crayons were melted now in lurid mixed swirls fading into a burnt brown against the floor. Blankets were crisped, feather pillows little more than ashy residue, and toys left hurt that would need to be picked through if sentimental things could be saved.*

*A musical jingle came from underfoot. Yes. The fabric worry ball, one of Wexle's favorite toys to roll between tendrils. He'd spent enough time around her children to recognize the toy. And now it was discarded in the wreckage too, the broken window allowing a breeze into the home.*

[arkus-the-ironclad]

He picks up the toy, turning it over in one claw. Wexle's.

Left behind.

He looks around the ashen derelict, the scene horribly familiar and terrifyingly alien all at once. He feels a pressure building within his shell.

Someone had done this. Someone had taken Tsaersha away. Someone or something... From the Troupe, he vaguely remembers, but the flame of his rage does not care. The air swells with heat and smoke seeps from his carapace.

Whoever did this will pay. They will pay, dearly. He will show them what it's like to have people you love taken from you, to have a pillar of your life crumbled to dust brutally and without any remorse. He will hunt them down, burn whatever they have until they have nothing, and devour them so that they share his agony.

... But, he remembers, no, no, he can't. He very much wants to, but he can't: there are many reasons, not the least of which is that this is very much his fault. He should have been around more. He should have... Done something. Made the necessary sacrifice to protect his loved ones.

He looks down at the toy, singed in his claw, and thinks. The children.

Despite what this scene suggests, he does not believe they are gone. Even if he did, he'd need to be sure before he would give up looking. He hasn't tracked in a while...

Those children are clever, and Arkus believes that if they put their minds to it, they could be quite skillful at hiding from attention. So, he thinks about it for a moment, and comes to the conclusion that he should track Arabella - while not full bee, bees do produce pheromones that should be easy to pick up on... And she's half-moth besides. Far too visible in ways aside from sight, in ways that beasts like him have learned to track well.

He closes his eyes. Red mist swirls in the dark of his head, curling around and anchoring itself to his knowledge of the little bugling. He feels the things around him, vibrations carried through the ground and into his shell, takes in the scents, the feeling of the air...

The Voice of the Hunt whispers in his ear as he begins his pursuit.

And with the guidance of the Voice, he begins doing just that.

[the-flickering-wanderer]

*The trail, now, seems obvious. Dream essence lingers on bush leaves, moss bent around little claws and fleeing roots. These little ones have never known what it was like to be hunted not truly, and as such, there's is sloppy, easy tracked trail.*

*The first thing noticable is a bug in grey, laid out unconscious near a cluster of bushes and tied down, held for hostage. The second, a basket full of now empty candy wrappers. The third, hushed whispers that immediately quiet as his claw steps draw nearer.*

*The first rock hits of Arkus' armored shell with a ping. Harmless, in the grand scheme of things, but we're one not as armored or aware, certainly a devastating guerilla tactic. A third and forth bounce off harmlessly as well, leading to a few panicked whispers, before a flower vase is thrown with a ceramic clatter an an attempt to further fell a suspected foe.*

[the-flickering-wanderer]

*a basket of candy appears in front of the children*

*Seven set of eyes land on the basket, a strange offering and gift. Yet tensions still remain high within the gathered group, heighten suspicion from the dead (unconscious) other stranger.*

"Mummy says not to take candy from strangers!" *Arabella squeaked out, yellow and brown mottled fluff still bristled in fear.* "Not unless it's Grimm's night or she's sure it won't hurt us."

"You're right, Ari," *Mio nodded sagely, as best he could for at nine, mimicking his older sister's intonation she used when giving advice or scolding.* "We shouldn't take candy from strangers...."

*Arabella, of course, was pleased to finally being listened to, especially after being dragged away from the house. Still, candy was candy, and children were children.* "It could be poi-soned." *She added with a nod.*

"Oh! Like the story Tsae-Tsae read the other night!" *Neeko piped up, pausing in his rock stacking (it was always good to have stockpiled ammunition, he had decided), his eyes flashing with an idea.* "The one about the bad cake that made everybody sick!"

*Annis gave a squawk. That didn't sound pleasant at all! Getting sick off sweets was terrible, even worse if poisoned. They shook their little head dismissively at even the idea of eating it.*

*Sycamore however, as the others were bickering, had already helped themselves to a piece. And what a treat it was! Something wonderful compared to how dreadful everything has been. They used an arm to toss a candy at Mio, giving a small grunt.* "....safe..."

*Mio felt the candy hit his mask, the rest of the group looking at Sycamore in abject horror at the blatant disregard of safety. But, well, they seemed fine. Annoyed, perhaps, had being away from home and Mum too long, but so far, no dreaded poison effects.*

*Teribeth, being brave, reached for a candy, examining it with wide eyes enlarged by glasses. They gave a glance at Sycamore, before hesitantly taking a bite.*

*Sweetness folded their mouth too, sweet and wonderful, almost but not quite like Mum's fruit teas. With a nod, Teribeth gestured to the basket, granting further approval.*

*And well, if the younger ones had decided like peckerbugs onto the candy basket, none of them were going to admit it. It had been a stressful day.*

[the-flickering-wanderer]

THROWING ROCKS BACK AT THE CHILDREN THIS IS WAR

*There is a collective shriek from the bushes as rocks are thrown back. Unfortunately, this will colour their view of strangers for a while yet.*

*There is immediately escalation. Rocks that had been thrown are slingshotted back. Sticks are thrown, more rocks, and even a small half buried handmade idol.*

*This, correct, is war.*

*The bushes rustle, the children moving yet unseen. More rocks and harden shell scraps are volleyed with cries and shouts of battle sung in childish tones.*

*And then, perhaps reckless for someone so small, Arabella darts forward with her stinger, getting the anon's shins, before darting back under cover.*

*With the threat neutralized (complete with startled whispers of, "Is it dead?" "Oh nooooooo" and "Did we just kill somebody!?") the children retreat back into the relative safety of their cover, huddling around each other for comfort.*

[the-flickering-wanderer]

When the moon hits you're eye like a big piece of pieee

*Perhaps not intended, but the stranger is immediately pelted by a rather high velocity pebble sent from a slingshot. Several more join after a moment.*

*Although perhaps not in offense of the anon's singing initially, the pebble barrage doesn't quit until the stranger draws away from the bushes.*

[the-flickering-wanderer]

So how are you kids doing mentally?

*Neeko and Mio exchange a look over the little ones' heads. They'd manage to shepard their family into the surrounding verdant area's and nooks and crannies just fine, now being careful to stay hidden. Such had been a plans Tsae-Tsae had given should the Karak war have ever come to the Moss Grotto. And what a fine plan it made too now, with the house in ruins and their guardian missing.*

*Neeko was tugging at the launcher part of his slingshot. At nine, he knew talking to strangers was bad, had seen the grey cloaked strangers sometimes appear near the house. For a moment, he thought about finding a few loose pebbles and chitin shards to launch, but decided against it. Tsae-Tsae always tried to be polite.* ".... Could be worse....?"

*Teribeth of the rootlings had no such qualms expressing themself. "Very bad," was signed in common symbol through root tendrils before the child took to doodling on the ground again, glasses nearly sliding off their nose.*

*Mio, trying to play as babysitter with the other four children, bobbed is head, down turned mask points and antenna in quick agreement. Tsae-Tsae was gone. It was scary, very scary. But there were children smaller and younger than him who had to be scared to.* ".... We'll.... We're going to be okay."

*Arabella beside him let out a squawk, shaking her fluffy head.* "I want Mummy!"

*Her shouting was quickly quieted down by Mio, dragging her back to his side much like Tsae-Tsae would have done. His little sister-niece had been shouting that a lot, and nobody could mollify her, not really. But they had to be quiet, there could be dangers about.*

*And speaking of dangers, there was the heavy thud of movement farther away. Everyone in their little group stiffened immediately, Neeko raising his slingshot protectively.* "Shhh-hh! Somebody's coming!"

[the-flickering-wanderer]

Arkus has went a long while without seeing Tsaersha. Partially because, in his efforts to learn more trades, he has taken up sewing and made her a lovely red dress. Or, he hopes it's lovely. He also hopes she actually likes the color red, as he never asked - he got too caught up in the craft itself. This one is just the best of many, of course. There were so many attempts to get here that he lost track. But he's quite happy with the finished product - a dress that should look quite flattering on the firefly, but has a sort of sharp edge to it. With this and a basket of vegetables in tow, he makes his way to Tsaersha's ... he stares. @arkus-the-ironclad

*As someone who had become used to the sight of Tsaersha's warm cottage and hospitality nestled within the Moss Grotto's comforting green caverns, the current sight before it was a jarring shock to the system. Where once light had spilled through stained glass windows, where once stood a little door and plants as friendly faces to the weary, now...*

*Now it stood quiet, cindered and scorched. The flagstones were covered in singe marks, the door ajar off its hinges. Evidence of where flame licked against the wood of her porch was a stark contrast to shriveled curtains that once hung open.*

*But the appearance couldn't have been as bad as the crushing silence. Normally there would be the chatter of her children, Tsaersha's humming, her busywork to go along with the sounds of life. And now, now it was quiet, too quiet, breath stilled in waiting, only compounded by the roof crumbling and caving in over what had to be the nursery she'd put so much love into.*

*Quiet. Too Quiet.*

*And quiet usually meant gone.*

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"... Tsaersha?" He calls out, knowing he'll receive no answer. ... It takes him a moment to muster up the courage to walk into the charred wreckage of the cottage. It is so easy to walk through the smoldering remains of someone's life when it is not that of one you love. He quells the rage in his heart, for now. There are children to think of, and he must find them before he turns his attention to Tsaersha. It is what she would prioritize, too, and he can't let any harm come to the little ones. So he fights back his anger and his rising fear, and looks for any sign of the children.

[the-flickering-wanderer]

*The house, predicably, is a ruin. Cinders litter the floorboards, curtains shrivelled upward in gnarled fingers of soot stained jeweltones. Tsaersha's kitchen, once a warm gathering spot for friends and company, now stood a cold wreck, ash blown in from the broken windows.*

*The trail of destruction is a wild one at best, shelter taken at odd corners and lance points, where a firefly had used her knowledge to give herself cover, yet she wasn't here now. But no.*

*No, the trail of destruction started in the nursery. And that, that was not a comforting thought at all.*

*The wax crayons were melted now in lurid mixed swirls fading into a burnt brown against the floor. Blankets were crisped, feather pillows little more than ashy residue, and toys left hurt that would need to be picked through if sentimental things could be saved.*

*A musical jingle came from underfoot. Yes. The fabric worry ball, one of Wexle's favorite toys to roll between tendrils. He'd spent enough time around her children to recognize the toy. And now it was discarded in the wreckage too, the broken window allowing a breeze into the home.*

[the-flickering-wanderer]

^o^

*Neeko holds a squirreling root child under his gangly arm, dark eyes watching the stranger in surprise. The child under his arm (spots and favorite purple sweater indicating Annis) gave a loud squawk, a root tendril lashing out to catch the face, one Neeko barely manages to fend off.* "No, no! Annie! We can't eat strangers! That's rude!"

*Two of the other rootlings, Sycamore and Wexle, open their little mouths, mimicking the same face with little squawks, while Teribeth (chunky glasses nearly falling of their nose) blink in utter disapproval. Now didn't feel like a good time for nonsense, not with mum gone.*

[the-flickering-wanderer]

Arkus has went a long while without seeing Tsaersha. Partially because, in his efforts to learn more trades, he has taken up sewing and made her a lovely red dress. Or, he hopes it's lovely. He also hopes she actually likes the color red, as he never asked - he got too caught up in the craft itself. This one is just the best of many, of course. There were so many attempts to get here that he lost track. But he's quite happy with the finished product - a dress that should look quite flattering on the firefly, but has a sort of sharp edge to it. With this and a basket of vegetables in tow, he makes his way to Tsaersha's ... he stares. @arkus-the-ironclad

*As someone who had become used to the sight of Tsaersha's warm cottage and hospitality nestled within the Moss Grotto's comforting green caverns, the current sight before it was a jarring shock to the system. Where once light had spilled through stained glass windows, where once stood a little door and plants as friendly faces to the weary, now...*

*Now it stood quiet, cindered and scorched. The flagstones were covered in singe marks, the door ajar off its hinges. Evidence of where flame licked against the wood of her porch was a stark contrast to shriveled curtains that once hung open.*

*But the appearance couldn't have been as bad as the crushing silence. Normally there would be the chatter of her children, Tsaersha's humming, her busywork to go along with the sounds of life. And now, now it was quiet, too quiet, breath stilled in waiting, only compounded by the roof crumbling and caving in over what had to be the nursery she'd put so much love into.*

*Quiet. Too Quiet.*

*And quiet usually meant gone.*

[the-flickering-wanderer]

IM BACK I GOT THE WATER

@guile-pale-and-sharp

*Alas, it seems too little, too late. The once proud cottage was a delict state not, blackened and soot stained against the verdant green of Mytophia's beloved Moss Grotto. But a dead flame was usually a good thing, wasn't it? Of course, it was coupled with an uneasy silence, each step of claw coupled with the slight crunch of ash underfoot, drifting from the seared ceilings and rafters. Alas, there was no friendly hostess either to greet travelers and visitors alike.*

[guile-pale-and-sharp]

kind firefly? Silver’s friend, where are you?

[the-flickering-wanderer]

*Nothing.*

*Absolutely nothing.*

*While perhaps a cheery, exasperated yet fond voice might call greetings here, or scoldings there, a nest mother in her own right, all there was met with was silence.*

*Stained glass shards sat in discarded sparkles along the most path, smoke lazily pluming upward. And yet, no firefly. No house of carefully maintained domestic chaos.*

[guile-pale-and-sharp]

children? Little ones? Is anybody there?

[the-flickering-wanderer]

*Wandering through the wreckage didn't give much hope. Crayons sat discarded and melted, toys scattered and burnt, house plants shriveled to crisps in the entry way and hall. Tsaersha had built her home to be cozy to her family and friends, to travellers alike. And yet the place was little more than sight of a tragedy, dying crimson sparks against the base board.*

*No sight of her children that she'd fretted over, although there was a trail of claw marks leading away, meaning they had fled, thankfully. That had to be good in a way. Tsaersha would have - if not already had - done unspeakable things for the sake of her kids.*

*But where was she? She'd been here, and now, she wasn't. No sign, no trace. No scent or sight or sound.*

*No, no, there. A scrap of her cloak, the mottled maroon fabric scorched at the corners, caught and presumably torn from the effort of battle. And it had to have been a struggle, the state of house certainly confirmed it. But where was she?*

[the-flickering-wanderer]

(… A lone shape shuffles on, coming from the very edges of the grotto. They seem to be looking for something, or someone, very intently.)

(They chitter to themselves, but they seem positively overjoyed to turn a corner and see, from the distance, their… nest?)

(… or, what was left of it… It did not look like this from what bits they remembered.)

(It was a still-smoldering wreck, and looking at it began to suffocate them in dread and worry. They tilted their head, confused and alone.)

…

maam?

— @brokey-vessel

*Nest, once, but not. There had been a cozy kitchen filled with snacks, once, from salty pretzels to snacks saved especially for it, rich in hemolymph. There had been blankets and sweaters, a warm fire place and laughter. A flicker pink light that was ever constant.*

*But the blankets were cindered, the sweaters singed. The once warm kitchen and meaty snacks toasted in ruin, and the constant flicker gone now. Miss maam was not there,but surely, surely she must be somewhere? She'd always tried to keep a tidy home, once.*

[brokey-vessel]

(… The one place it had thought home… gone.)

(They gagged for a moment, covering their face as they did as if in an effort to hold back tears that could not possibly, physically form. A moment later… silence as they watched over the ruins.)

(They turned, and looked for surrounding caves, any trail to follow… Something had happened with the firefly, the home a wreck but she would not be so weak as to perish.)

[the-flickering-wanderer]

*By whatever grace granted by higher beings should such ever exist, the good news was there was no hollowed shell of a firefly within the wreck. The good news was there was a trail to follow, even if it was multiple little claws marking the moss and loam and not the dragging of a wounded creature.*

*But a trail was a trail, as good as any leading away from what was left of the house, not too far away, but not too close, enough to have seen the devastation and still flee. And sure enough came a chorus of voices, rowdy, worried, young still, the other charges that had been under the firefly's care.*

[brokey-vessel]

(… Ma’am did have other children, so the small crowd of equally small voices was less peculiar than it might have been otherwise.)

(They peered around a corner, still on-edge enough to exhibit caution, to see where they think the voices are coming from.)

[the-flickering-wanderer]

*Sure enough, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven made up this gaggle of a group. There were the four spotted rootlets clinging to each other and the other three. The strange striped mothlet pouting and pointing back at the house, and then the two older fireflies, wingless, but kin to Ma'am. Neeko and Mio, they're names were. And being children given care of smaller children, that meant trying to grow up and figure out a way to take care of things. Ma'am had been a good example of that.*

*The one with the downturned mask points - Mio - was trying to pull the mothlet along with the help of a rootlet, visibly frustrated, and yet trying to mask it as his caretaker had.* "C'mon, Ari.... We can't stay. We need to go to Aunty Root or Uncle Arkus....."

[the-flickering-wanderer]

IM BACK I GOT THE WATER

@guile-pale-and-sharp

*Alas, it seems too little, too late. The once proud cottage was a delict state not, blackened and soot stained against the verdant green of Mytophia's beloved Moss Grotto. But a dead flame was usually a good thing, wasn't it? Of course, it was coupled with an uneasy silence, each step of claw coupled with the slight crunch of ash underfoot, drifting from the seared ceilings and rafters. Alas, there was no friendly hostess either to greet travelers and visitors alike.*

[guile-pale-and-sharp]

kind firefly? Silver’s friend, where are you?

[the-flickering-wanderer]

*Nothing.*

*Absolutely nothing.*

*While perhaps a cheery, exasperated yet fond voice might call greetings here, or scoldings there, a nest mother in her own right, all there was met with was silence.*

*Stained glass shards sat in discarded sparkles along the most path, smoke lazily pluming upward. And yet, no firefly. No house of carefully maintained domestic chaos.*

[the-flickering-wanderer]

Hi mama! Hello mama!

*A small crowd of young little creatures had clustered together at the edge of the garden, leading to the wilds further out. And yet, all turned when their moth chirped, pointing at the burned ruins.*

*Mio had always liked to think himself responsible. At nine cycles, he liked being a big brother, and it meant he could help Tsae-Tsae out occasionally, or shared his pencil stories. That didn't mean he didn't enjoy his alone time, but right now, being a big brother felt a bit overwhelming. The house was gone, and Tsae-Tsae hadn't come out. And although Mio and Neeko had traveled before, they'd been small and Tsae-Tsae took care of everything. Responsibility now felt like a heavy burden.*

*Still, the little bug pulled the mothlet closer, tucking Arabella under his cloak as rooted Wexle clung to his leg.* ".... It's okay, Ari.... Tsae-Tsae will be back, and we'll be okay...."

*Neeko beside him cringed. Neeko too was nine cycles, more angular with his mask points upturned. He was hot headed, fiery, and quick, and yet his dark eyes were glassy, his mandibles twitched as he swallowed back tears. This was weighing on him heavy too, for what does one do when the safe world built suddenly crumbles? The other three spotted rootlets - Sycamore, Teribeth, and Annis - all clung to their older brother-uncle, letting out low discontented hums. Neeko's antenna twitched, not as fluffy as his older sister's, yet bristled out too.* ".....I don't..... How long do we wait for her....?"

*Mio didn't know the answer. Normally, if he didn't know something, he could go to Tsae-Tsae and ask, and she'd patiently explain, or help him find a book or tool. But what do you do when you're little and small, and have those smaller and littler than you just as scared, if not more so?* "I.... I dunno.... Tsae-Tsae would know but she's....."

*Neeko hitched a breath, little claws scrabbling to hold charges close. He didn't want to say it, didn't want to think it. Death was still a nebulous concept, but Tsae-Tsae had always tried to patiently explain how the world worked, even if it was grim sometimes. She had told them once that they had a mother who died. But when one thought of a mom, it wasn't some faceless creature.*

*Neeko remembered crimson flames like this, long, long ago. It was a vague memory, but he remembered the sulfur smell and the roar of crowd, and how Tsae-Tsae looked so tired when getting up all wrapped in bandages. And he remembered leaving that sulfur place behind. But whatever attacked the house, the red ghost bug, that had smelled of sulfur, and Tsae-Tsae had looked..... She had looked scared. And that too, was very scary to think about.*

*But Neeko was the oldest. Or, at least that's what he thought, him and Mio having hatched so close together. But that meant he had to be in charge, and that was scary too. But bedtime stories meant knights and warriors acted, even when scared, and Neeko always wanted to be a knight. Maybe that could help, the slight play pretend, and then Tsae-Tsae would help.* "Uhm..... Tsae-Tsae wouldn't want us to stay.... She said if something bad happens, we need to find Aunty Root, or Uncle Arkus, or Mx. Holly..... So we.... We should start there...."

"What about Brokey?" *Mio added, his own claws twitching. He too remembered the older child, quiet and didn't talk much, more happy to spend time by itself and with Mambo the mosscreep. Although they didn't talk much, they were still important, and although they hadn't been in the house when the fire happened, Tsae-Tsae had taught on principal it was important to look out for others, especially family.*

"I.... I dunno..... Maybe.... Maybe Brokey found Mambo...? Rupert ran off, and so it's... It's just us now...."

*At that point, Arabella tugged at Mio's cloak again, trying to get his attention. Small as she was, she had to talk, pointing at the lazy drifting plumes coming from the house, at spirals and wheels only she could see.* "It's Mama! Mama! Hi Mama!"

*Neeko and Mio exchanged a look. Arabella, much like the rootlets, had been found and Tsae-Tsae had taken her in. But in playtime, Ari saw things they didn't, knew things that were a bit odd. But she was their baby sister. Yet, all they saw was smoke, and sometimes it was best to be practical.* ".... Mama's not there, Ari.... We got to get moving...."

"But Mama!" *Arabella squeaked, her wings slightly mantled. Yet little Wexle reached a root tendril, wrapping it around her claw. Although most of the rootling children choose not to speak, Wexle was usually, decidedly more vocal than most, even if it was slow an laborious.*

"...Mama busy.... We need go...."

*Arabella was not satisfied with that answer. She saw the twisting pinwheels, the light that danced above the broken windows. Yet at four cycles, she knew when she wasn't being listened too, crossing her pudgy arms in a pout, yet still leaning against Mio. She wanted her Mama, she knew following the light would lead to Mama. But fine, let them take charge.*

*With, at least what they expected to be an argument quelled (although such words were a bit too big for their thoughts, even if they were fancy sounding like in stories), Mio and Neeko tugged their siblings forward, away from the ash coated ground.*

[the-flickering-wanderer]

(… A lone shape shuffles on, coming from the very edges of the grotto. They seem to be looking for something, or someone, very intently.)

(They chitter to themselves, but they seem positively overjoyed to turn a corner and see, from the distance, their… nest?)

(… or, what was left of it… It did not look like this from what bits they remembered.)

(It was a still-smoldering wreck, and looking at it began to suffocate them in dread and worry. They tilted their head, confused and alone.)

…

maam?

— @brokey-vessel

*Nest, once, but not. There had been a cozy kitchen filled with snacks, once, from salty pretzels to snacks saved especially for it, rich in hemolymph. There had been blankets and sweaters, a warm fire place and laughter. A flicker pink light that was ever constant.*

*But the blankets were cindered, the sweaters singed. The once warm kitchen and meaty snacks toasted in ruin, and the constant flicker gone now. Miss maam was not there,but surely, surely she must be somewhere? She'd always tried to keep a tidy home, once.*

[brokey-vessel]

(… The one place it had thought home… gone.)

(They gagged for a moment, covering their face as they did as if in an effort to hold back tears that could not possibly, physically form. A moment later… silence as they watched over the ruins.)

(They turned, and looked for surrounding caves, any trail to follow… Something had happened with the firefly, the home a wreck but she would not be so weak as to perish.)

[the-flickering-wanderer]

*By whatever grace granted by higher beings should such ever exist, the good news was there was no hollowed shell of a firefly within the wreck. The good news was there was a trail to follow, even if it was multiple little claws marking the moss and loam and not the dragging of a wounded creature.*

*But a trail was a trail, as good as any leading away from what was left of the house, not too far away, but not too close, enough to have seen the devastation and still flee. And sure enough came a chorus of voices, rowdy, worried, young still, the other charges that had been under the firefly's care.*

[the-flickering-wanderer]

(… A lone shape shuffles on, coming from the very edges of the grotto. They seem to be looking for something, or someone, very intently.)

(They chitter to themselves, but they seem positively overjoyed to turn a corner and see, from the distance, their… nest?)

(… or, what was left of it… It did not look like this from what bits they remembered.)

(It was a still-smoldering wreck, and looking at it began to suffocate them in dread and worry. They tilted their head, confused and alone.)

…

maam?

— @brokey-vessel

*Nest, once, but not. There had been a cozy kitchen filled with snacks, once, from salty pretzels to snacks saved especially for it, rich in hemolymph. There had been blankets and sweaters, a warm fire place and laughter. A flicker pink light that was ever constant.*

*But the blankets were cindered, the sweaters singed. The once warm kitchen and meaty snacks toasted in ruin, and the constant flicker gone now. Miss maam was not there,but surely, surely she must be somewhere? She'd always tried to keep a tidy home, once.*

[the-flickering-wanderer]

What happened?!

*Nothings answers the stranger, not the ruins, the wind, nor the drifting ash. It's quiet, far, far too quiet.*

*One could take to wandering the once proud and homely abode now nothing more than soot stained cinder. Curtains curled upward from the high heat, embers long since died cool against the charred woodgrain. All that's untouched is the garden, Tsaersha's pride and joy.*

*Perhaps the only comfort is the many claw and tendril tracks leading away from the wreckage, taking shelter within one of the many moss covered caverns.*

[the-flickering-wanderer]

IM BACK I GOT THE WATER

@guile-pale-and-sharp

*Alas, it seems too little, too late. The once proud cottage was a delict state not, blackened and soot stained against the verdant green of Mytophia's beloved Moss Grotto. But a dead flame was usually a good thing, wasn't it? Of course, it was coupled with an uneasy silence, each step of claw coupled with the slight crunch of ash underfoot, drifting from the seared ceilings and rafters. Alas, there was no friendly hostess either to greet travelers and visitors alike.*