just an ask blog for some hollow knight bugs.
a list of the current cast can be found here!
run by king
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- characters
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Hello and welcome to Void Walk! This is just a place for me to work with my Hollow Knight characters, and maybe have some fun to boot.
It’s an askblog for my bugs— the current cast can be found here! The replies to asks will typically be sketches or text replies, whatever I have the time, energy, and inspiration for.
The tag directory can be found here!
Just somethings:
You’re welcome to ask the bugs just about anything— but keep it civil and appropriate.
They do have a “canon” timeline of sorts, with most of their stories taking place after the events of Hollow Knight, but honestly I’m not too fussed about that. Ask away!
Feel free to interact with these guys, whether that be directly asking them stuff, or via your own characters.
I can’t promise I’ll draw a response for any given question. I will do my best to answer every ask in some way, though!
My main blog is @kingcrxwn; likes and such come from there!
I dropped off the map quite a bit there, huh. I’m still around, just needed a break to work on other projects. The askbox is still open and I have one in there waiting for motivation to come back.
This blog has always just been a fun chill thing to do when I can, so I won’t make promises about activity but if there’s asks I’ll do my best to answer them.
if you could make your HK ocs into actual canon characters, would you? All of them, or just a specific few?
Honestly, probably just Luca. They have utility to the player (armour is useful when you’re fighting gods), as well as an interesting mode of interaction (they wander wound the map and you can tell where they are by following their humming).
The others... could be fun one-off NPCs but honestly, Helles would need to be a boss or something and she’s... not boss material.Flit. God I love him but he’d just be annoying, though potentially useful as a better way of finding Luca than just. Wandering around until you hear them.
And Hushed.... makes no sense as a canon character. They just kind of stand around unless someone they care about gets threatened, and you wouldn’t be able to threaten any of them.
I love all of them but only Luca is set up as an NPC/shopkeep.
Thanks for the ask, that was a super interesting thought!
Just a little sketch of Luca and Hushed on an uneventful day. It’s fairly soon after Luca and Flit found the vessel, and there’s definitely some adjusting to do.
“Oh! Little one, you scared me.” Luca sighed and took a moment to calm down before turning to look at the completely still form standing next to them. They had no idea how long the little one had been there, watching them work on their latest order. There had been no movement, no noise to announce their presence— Luca had simply happened to look to their right and nearly jumped out of their shell as a result.
“How long have you been there?”
Zero response.
They knew they would never get a verbal answer, but they still asked questions like that reflexively. The vessel— odd, that word came out of nowhere— was staring fixedly on the just-started carapace armour Luca had dropped. There was absolutely no motion in their stance, nothing to betray this was indeed a sentient being rather than a statue.
And more than that, there was really very little at all to suggest that they were sentient. Essentially no evidence, in fact. The most response they’d given in the weeks they’d been travelling with Luca and Flit was simply pointing— though they had this habit of abruptly dropping their head to the side in what must have been an imitation of a curious head tilt.
They seemed to have no concept of self, or of “want” or “need”. Asking what they preferred was like asking a rock. If something was phrased as a command, however, the vessel would chip away at the task until it was completed or they were told to stop.
Luca understood why this was, in their typical odd, fragmented way. The fact they understood did not make it any less disturbing.
This... child, essentially, had a mind (or, rather, minds) so suppressed they had no concept of self. They were a walking automaton, clever enough to learn how to manipulate the tools of Luca’s trade in hours, but capable of no more than what they were instructed to do.
It disturbed Luca because it felt wrong. Not morally wrong, but the kind of wrongness that accompanies loss. That feeling of something that should have been, and could be, but isn’t.
With a start, Luca snapped themself out of their thoughts.
The little one was still staring at the half-carved carapace on Luca’s workbench.
Pausing for a moment, Luca considered how to word this.
“If you would like, little one, please sit with me and learn.”
They hated giving the vessel direct commands, as if they were merely a thing. Luca knew a bug from some inanimate object. Even if the little one was a muffled image of what they could be, they were still a bug in their own right and Luca was not about to go ordering them around against the shred of will Luca knew they had.
Empty, blank eyes turned deliberately, mechanically up to them.
One minute.
Five.
Ten.
And then in the same deliberate, mechanical fashion, the vessel climbed onto the Wanderer’s back and looked over their shoulder as they worked.
That's actually really cool, and a wonderful way to honor the dead. How do you go about creating it?
Luca: It depends on what I’m making. Often, if I can get material from the same source, or at least similar, the process is much smoother— given it was already together in one form prior. Sometimes that isn’t an option, or I have a custom order and I need to tailor the armour to a certain bug’s body type. When that happens, I often have to reshape pieces— mostly that means shaving and carving, but some kinds of carapace need to be reshaped in a more... interesting manner.
Some shells are too hard to simply carve, and require a substance that my tribe has perfected over time. I’m rather reluctant to give out any specifics, because not only is it a trade and personal secret, it’s an extremely dangerous material, regardless of what kind of bug you are. Making it can go wrong, and getting it on oneself can be disastrous.
Regardless, once the separate parts are in the shapes I need, I can go about actually constructing the armour. I do this with various methods— more fashion-based pieces usually just use silk thread, with sewn joints, but serious battle-ready pieces need to be sturdier. Often I can use the substance to essentially weld parts together for added rigidity.
Everything I make is lined with fabric, and I can guarantee it will serve you well.Hopefully that answered your question.
luca, flit... i'll ask you this because, well, i rather assume hushed can't speak up themself. how and where did you guys find them?
Luca: …Luca: … oh.Flit: … well. Uh. That’s… Luca, you want to take this? You… know more.Luca: I suppose.Flit: I do have to admit, I’m curious what exactly you’ve picked up from them, what memories you’ve read— oh, right. They don’t know.Luca: … ah, yes, I have… an odd ability. I can often sense what isn’t said. It is… sometimes helpful, sometimes harmful, and often unwanted. Luca: Regardless. Let us begin, yes?
It is dark. It is always dark here. But the darkness is not static. It moves, rises, falls. Less than it used to, but it is still alive. The ocean of void seeps onto the shore, crawling along the countless broken, empty shells scattered there. Motes of shadow drift up, some taking shape. They wander, lost, and then dissipate.
But sometimes, they don’t. Sometimes, they linger. Sometimes, they remember.
luca, flit... i'll ask you this because, well, i rather assume hushed can't speak up themself. how and where did you guys find them?
Luca: …Luca: … oh.Flit: … well. Uh. That’s… Luca, you want to take this? You… know more.Luca: I suppose.Flit: I do have to admit, I’m curious what exactly you’ve picked up from them, what memories you’ve read— oh, right. They don’t know.Luca: … ah, yes, I have… an odd ability. I can often sense what isn’t said. It is… sometimes helpful, sometimes harmful, and often unwanted. Luca: Regardless. Let us begin, yes?
It is dark. It is always dark here. But the darkness is not static. It moves, rises, falls. Less than it used to, but it is still alive. The ocean of void seeps onto the shore, crawling along the countless broken, empty shells scattered there. Motes of shadow drift up, some taking shape. They wander, lost, and then dissipate.
But sometimes, they don’t. Sometimes, they linger. Sometimes, they remember.
At least partially. Remember the torment and the pain, the rejection. Remember what they were meant to be. Fragmented, empty, alone. Still here, despite the denial of their existence. Still here, despite the passage of time and the death of memory. Sometimes, they linger.
And sometimes, they act. Not consciously, or with purpose, but still they act. They hide, in the shadows and shells. They group, in the crevices of their birthplace. Unthinking, but feeling.
Some huddle in the shattered remains, their transient memories and enduring emotions keeping them pinned in consciousness. Their shaded forms begin to solidify, take shape. Take the shape they once knew.
Sometimes, they harden. Take a shape closer to what their blank minds recall. Closer to what they were in life.
In the Abyss, shapes form.
But sometimes, they lose themselves again. Become caught in the swirling, mixing mess that they floated up from. Blend, merge, separate, fuse… until the jumbled pain and voiceless suffering of five congeals into one.
They stand, unsteady. They stand, unmoving. Five separate negative spaces have overwritten each other, creating a perfectly flawed vessel in their places. They have no desire. They have no mind. Only fading memories, and a pull upwards.
They begin to climb.
At the top, they turn to look at where they came from. They have no memory of it. They have no questions to ask. They turn, and they fall.
They feel no alarm about their situation directly, but the impending threat of pain causes them distress.
They hit the broken bodies of their dead siblings below, and a sickening crunch echoes through the air and the void. Nothing moves for a very long time.
Still as the decayed shells around them, this young amalgam stares up into the cavernous height above. Their shell has split open, the shade inside spilling into the motionless air. The only movement is the slow leak of void out of its broken container.
Time passes.
And they sit up. Stand up. Begin the ascent again.
This time, they make it. They do not fall. They make their fluid, halting way to the entrance of the Abyss. This time, they do not look back.
Void stains their cloak, but they do not stop. In one ceaseless motion, they move up, up, up. Up through the caverns and corridors, drawn onwards by something they do not know and cannot comprehend. As the air dampens and sucking, scrambling noises skitter down rounded tunnels, as they slosh through shin-deep stagnant water, they finally stop. Standing unmoving, it is as though they are part of the stonework. No hint of motion remains, as the dripping and gurgling continues in the walls. Then they collapse.
Steps echo through the tunnels, accompanied by an insistent voice. Laughter, too. The vessel does not know what that is. The noises get louder. Nearer. Then it stops. They do not feel alarm. Only pain, from sources known and sources yet unknown. The splashes resume, faster now, and the voice is quieter, more forceful. Another voice replies.
The vessel is lifted up, out of the algae and the water. The movement splits their shell more but they do not react. They do not know safety, or danger. They do not resist, because they are being taken up.
Flit: ……..Flit: … o-oh…Luca: There is a reason I insisted they stay with us.
Luca, when you say your armor is made from the fallen, does that mean it's made from fellow bugs who weren't so lucky?
Luca: Yes, my armour is made from the shells of dead bugs. Where I come from, it’s a common practice and seen as respectful. Even in death, you still contribute to your compatriots’ survival....Though it has, ah, come to my attention that this is not how it is everywhere. Many bugs see my craft as distasteful, disgraceful even.
I know when I am not wanted, and that is when I pack up and leave.
