The words they'd heard as they'd struggled out of the Abyss, the words they had remembered a hundred times in dreams. Not for the first time, they wonder who the words had been for the benefit of.
For their sibling, to teach them about their role? Or for their father, who seemingly needed to remind himself (if that sealed, lost memory was any indication)?
They would be able to detest him more thoroughly if he had shown no emotion at all, if that locked memory had been the last of his feelings. If it had began and ended there.
But he snatches his hand away as if the act of touching had hurt him, rejects it through words, and that -- brings them pain, of a sort. Not that melancholy heartache reserved for their sibling; that is something closer and sadder and more honest, but...
Pity. Yes. They think...they can feel pity for him.
(The child he loved, the child he imprisoned -- done by his own hand. There is something to feel sorry for, in that.)
The Hollow Knight looks so terribly lost. Hurt and lonely. They cannot help but compare it to their own isolation, their own struggles. Unable to understand the world around them, adrift without any connection.
"I will not."
(Their answer to a statement that doesn't ask for it is Then I will.)
It doesn't take more than a few steps to close the distance between them. They reach up and hold onto their sibling's hand; clasping it in both of theirs in a protective, almost defiant gesture.
The contrast between them, their reactions, their growth - success and failure - couldn't be more pronounced.
And yet.
There's longing in it, too, in the way they cling. Not wanting to be lonely, not wanting their sibling to be alone.
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The words they'd heard as they'd struggled out of the Abyss, the words they had remembered a hundred times in dreams. Not for the first time, they wonder who the words had been for the benefit of.
For their sibling, to teach them about their role? Or for their father, who seemingly needed to remind himself (if that sealed, lost memory was any indication)?
They would be able to detest him more thoroughly if he had shown no emotion at all, if that locked memory had been the last of his feelings. If it had began and ended there.
But he snatches his hand away as if the act of touching had hurt him, rejects it through words, and that -- brings them pain, of a sort. Not that melancholy heartache reserved for their sibling; that is something closer and sadder and more honest, but...
Pity. Yes. They think...they can feel pity for him.
(The child he loved, the child he imprisoned -- done by his own hand. There is something to feel sorry for, in that.)
The Hollow Knight looks so terribly lost. Hurt and lonely. They cannot help but compare it to their own isolation, their own struggles. Unable to understand the world around them, adrift without any connection.
"I will not."
(Their answer to a statement that doesn't ask for it is Then I will.)
It doesn't take more than a few steps to close the distance between them. They reach up and hold onto their sibling's hand; clasping it in both of theirs in a protective, almost defiant gesture.
The contrast between them, their reactions, their growth - success and failure - couldn't be more pronounced.
And yet.
There's longing in it, too, in the way they cling. Not wanting to be lonely, not wanting their sibling to be alone.
Don't go. ]