throughscarleteyes
B u r n T h e F a t h e r
Ind. sel. priv. roleplay blog for Grimm from Hollow Knight
Written by Itsy
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"Patient as she can be when trying to deal with me."
He says it with a soft laugh. He can be very frustrating at times, he knows that. Many times it was intentional. He did have a thing for getting himself into trouble, he couldn't help it. Even when he was almost being swallowed whole by a very annoyed Pale Wyrm.
What Brumm says next has him falter in his brushing, because Brumm...should not be able to remember that. Was his fire really becoming that weak? That he could not do something as simple as protect his Troupe? He had to wonder, and hope otherwise, if the others were remembering as well. The only one that should know about their previous lives is himself.
Grimm calms his beating heart, he'd rather not panic about it outwardly, and he only gives the beetle a smile, running his hand through his fur as he resumed brushing it gently.
"It's alright, love. Try not to think about it too much. You'll give yourself a headache."
He says it lightly, but really, he couldn't bare to allow Brumm to remember. Not all of that.
It does calm him, helps him forget, if only briefly. Listening to Brumm's humming might be his favourite thing to hear, he thinks. It made him feel okay, even when his body screamed that he wasn't. He was anything but okay. He still pretends despite it. He doesn't think about it, his head was too muffled to.
"Of course it was. You know I like to look my best."
The moth laughs softly. Despite everything, he did always like to appear as decent as possible. Perhaps obsessively so, on occasion. Anything less than perfect was unacceptable. It bothered him more than it should, but he's always best at being a hypocrite.
That aside, the thought of his sister did bring up both fond and foul memories. How conflicted his feelings were towards her, even knowing what she did to him. By all means, he should hate her, shouldn't he? But she wasn't her when it happened. And still, he feels as though it was his fault. He feels that sharp pain in his heart again, he tries to ignore it, focus on his task of gently brushing through the patch of tangles he was working on.
"...I think sister would've loved you. She was a very kind God, if a little too protective. Thinking back though, maybe that was for a good reason... I did almost get eaten by a Wyrm a few times."
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Never have I ever just gone up to Brumm just to bury my face into his fluff.
He pouted, but yes, he takes another drink. Things are getting a bit hazy. More than normal.
"As if I could resist. He's so cute and soft."
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Never have I ever gotten it on with the king of Hallownest.
He huffs, taking a swig from the bottle before lowering it a bit too harshly onto the table with a chuckle.
"Happily so."
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Never have I ever missed my sister.
"...How low will you go to get a reaction out of me."
He decides that the shot glasses are not enough. He takes a drink from the bottle itself instead. Look what you've done.
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Never have I ever slipped up during one of the performances, not for the ritual just a normal one.
"It's not like I'm perfect. Not even with performing. As embarrassing as it is..."
There goes another shot. Shamefully so.
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Never have I ever imagined 'worshiping' the Hollow Knight, I mean Syltyr.
"That is one religion I would like to be apart of."
He can't deny that. You are enabling him and he does not care, because he's throwing back a shot.
#|| flames alight || ic#|| curious guests || ask#//no surprise these are the kinds of things i get immediately
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Send “never have I ever” plus an action.
If my muse has done it, they’ll take a shot.
#|| let us dance || ask meme#//comes back from the dead just for this meme#//you know i can't help myself
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[I'll put these two here too since I'm also driving myself mad working on them and they're sideblogs.]
@unnaturalharmony @vo1o
#|| lights out || ooc#//i may or may not have pokemon blogs#//that I've been working on for two years#//help me
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[Working on three whole pokemon blogs at once? Couldn't be me.]
#|| lights out || ooc#//listen#//I'm in hell and i dont know how to get out#//yes this is where I've been
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It does calm him, helps him forget, if only briefly. Listening to Brumm's humming might be his favourite thing to hear, he thinks. It made him feel okay, even when his body screamed that he wasn't. He was anything but okay. He still pretends despite it. He doesn't think about it, his head was too muffled to.
"Of course it was. You know I like to look my best."
The moth laughs softly. Despite everything, he did always like to appear as decent as possible. Perhaps obsessively so, on occasion. Anything less than perfect was unacceptable. It bothered him more than it should, but he's always best at being a hypocrite.
That aside, the thought of his sister did bring up both fond and foul memories. How conflicted his feelings were towards her, even knowing what she did to him. By all means, he should hate her, shouldn't he? But she wasn't her when it happened. And still, he feels as though it was his fault. He feels that sharp pain in his heart again, he tries to ignore it, focus on his task of gently brushing through the patch of tangles he was working on.
"...I think sister would've loved you. She was a very kind God, if a little too protective. Thinking back though, maybe that was for a good reason... I did almost get eaten by a Wyrm a few times."
Grimm gives a simple hum in response with a gentle smile. His memory comes back to him about how to handle the messy fur, and it steadily becomes a more mindless activity, but one that keeps him more aware of where he is. He can feel where the tangles are, and he brushes them out with care. It would take time, certainly. He didn't mind that.
It's the first time he manages to relax at least somewhat in a while, hearing Brumm hum helps. It always did. From one life to another, music would always capture his heart. Hearing it from his musician only made it better. It almost made him believe everything was okay. He chuckles softly, running his hand over the part of fur he's managed to mostly brush out. It was always so soft.
"I suppose... Not as lovely as sister's, I would say. I can't remember when I lost it. We're...vastly different each cycle, in how we act, as well as how we look. Just look at me and the previous Grimm."
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Grimm gives a simple hum in response with a gentle smile. His memory comes back to him about how to handle the messy fur, and it steadily becomes a more mindless activity, but one that keeps him more aware of where he is. He can feel where the tangles are, and he brushes them out with care. It would take time, certainly. He didn't mind that.
It's the first time he manages to relax at least somewhat in a while, hearing Brumm hum helps. It always did. From one life to another, music would always capture his heart. Hearing it from his musician only made it better. It almost made him believe everything was okay. He chuckles softly, running his hand over the part of fur he's managed to mostly brush out. It was always so soft.
"I suppose... Not as lovely as sister's, I would say. I can't remember when I lost it. We're...vastly different each cycle, in how we act, as well as how we look. Just look at me and the previous Grimm."
It's more often he tends to detach from himself, when he simply can't or doesn't know how to handle something. It gets difficult to pull himself back to reality, even now when he's not alone. Even when he's able to feel, it was...numb. More than what's normal, when experiencing life through the window of a vessel.
When the beetle makes himself comfortable, Grimm seems pleased he could provide it. He wanted to make sure this was as comforting as possible, at least for once of them.
"Don't worry about that, my Brumm. Just let me know if you start getting uncomfortable at all, alright?"
Patient and considerate as always, he didn't want to overwhelm the poor beetle, should they be at this for quite some time. He wouldn't mind the process, of course. His body might protest otherwise eventually. Taking hold of the brush, he got himself comfortable as he could manage next to Brumm, running his hand over the unkempt fur, before so careful and gently getting to work through it with the brush. It was something to focus on, something physical that he could feel. That helped.
"...I think I remember having fur once."
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It's more often he tends to detach from himself, when he simply can't or doesn't know how to handle something. It gets difficult to pull himself back to reality, even now when he's not alone. Even when he's able to feel, it was...numb. More than what's normal, when experiencing life through the window of a vessel.
When the beetle makes himself comfortable, Grimm seems pleased he could provide it. He wanted to make sure this was as comforting as possible, at least for once of them.
"Don't worry about that, my Brumm. Just let me know if you start getting uncomfortable at all, alright?"
Patient and considerate as always, he didn't want to overwhelm the poor beetle, should they be at this for quite some time. He wouldn't mind the process, of course. His body might protest otherwise eventually. Taking hold of the brush, he got himself comfortable as he could manage next to Brumm, running his hand over the unkempt fur, before so careful and gently getting to work through it with the brush. It was something to focus on, something physical that he could feel. That helped.
"...I think I remember having fur once."
He doesn't want to think about it, he does anyway, how there was no time or energy to even do something as simple as clean a room. At the same time, there was no point in the end. When he left, all of this would be going with him. Their grounds only exist because of him. He wonders what will happen to the Nightmare Realm itself when he's gone.
Brumm's words sound faraway as his movements are mindless, setting up cushions in a way that seems comfortable, and he only responds with an affirming hum. Even his thoughts sound muffled and it's difficult to focus on them. For the better, he thinks. He's noticed this happens when he's overwhelmed. He doesn't complain about it. Looking back at the beetle, he can't help but smile as he takes in features he doesn't often get to see. He politely gestures to a comfortable collection of cushions and a favourite of his soft blankets he's arranged.
"Make yourself comfortable, my dear. This should suffice."
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He doesn't want to think about it, he does anyway, how there was no time or energy to even do something as simple as clean a room. At the same time, there was no point in the end. When he left, all of this would be going with him. Their grounds only exist because of him. He wonders what will happen to the Nightmare Realm itself when he's gone.
Brumm's words sound faraway as his movements are mindless, setting up cushions in a way that seems comfortable, and he only responds with an affirming hum. Even his thoughts sound muffled and it's difficult to focus on them. For the better, he thinks. He's noticed this happens when he's overwhelmed. He doesn't complain about it. Looking back at the beetle, he can't help but smile as he takes in features he doesn't often get to see. He politely gestures to a comfortable collection of cushions and a favourite of his soft blankets he's arranged.
"Make yourself comfortable, my dear. This should suffice."
The offer makes him pause, before he has to force a smile. Would there even be time for that? He doubted either of them would have the energy soon. He tries not to think about it, but he can't help it.
"...Sure."
It's all he can do, to keep himself from slipping. Pretending. It's what every Grimm was best at. He watches Brumm pick up the fallen table, feeling a pang of guilt, until that's distracted by the glimpse of his face. The moth's gaze lingers for only a moment, before he turns his attention away and moves up further onto the bed of soft blankets, making some effort to drag the out of place cushions to more appropriate positions. He tried to ignore the ache in his joints as he did. That didn't matter right now.
"That's fine by me. I have nowhere to be."
He laughs softly. He's really trying.
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The offer makes him pause, before he has to force a smile. Would there even be time for that? He doubted either of them would have the energy soon. He tries not to think about it, but he can't help it.
"...Sure."
It's all he can do, to keep himself from slipping. Pretending. It's what every Grimm was best at. He watches Brumm pick up the fallen table, feeling a pang of guilt, until that's distracted by the glimpse of his face. The moth's gaze lingers for only a moment, before he turns his attention away and moves up further onto the bed of soft blankets, making some effort to drag the out of place cushions to more appropriate positions. He tried to ignore the ache in his joints as he did. That didn't matter right now.
"That's fine by me. I have nowhere to be."
He laughs softly. He's really trying.
The most Grimm can do is force a smile. They both knew that wasn't going to happen. There was no time. It felt like there was no time for anything. That's why he's given up, stopped even trying to better himself, fallen hard back into self-destructive habits. He knew there was no point, as much as he knew it upset others. He knew that they knew too.
How he wanted to just leave and wither in a ditch where they couldn't find him.
"It's always lovely to me, darling. It's even my favourite colour."
He's trying very hard, to keep pretending. He's acting like it's a normal day, like he and his world were not collapsing ever slowly. He didn't have a choice. Or rather, it was the only choice that would help those around him. He had to be happy, to make them believe he was okay. Even if they both knew he wasn't. They just pretend. Just keep pretending. That's all he had.
Keeping a gentle but firm hold on Brumm's hand, the moth lead him into his chamber, which was, unsurprisingly, rather messy. It normally was, an organized mess as he liked to call it, but there wasn't much organized about it now. The collection of cushions were strewn about the bed of messy blankets, as well as the floor, much less neatly than usual. A side table has been completely tipped over, he hasn't made the effort to pick it back up. There were still empty bottles around. Not as many, perhaps he had the energy to clean them up, or the guilt maybe.
"...Don't mind the mess. I've, uh...not been very good at keeping up with it, I suppose."
He tries to keep a smile, and the shame out of his features, as he brings the beetle over to the bed. It's when he sits down that his pain becomes more obvious to even himself, and he visibly winces at the ache that runs through his legs and back, something he quickly tries to hide.
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[Some people need to keep their opinions to themselves about things that don't involve them, it seems.]
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The most Grimm can do is force a smile. They both knew that wasn't going to happen. There was no time. It felt like there was no time for anything. That's why he's given up, stopped even trying to better himself, fallen hard back into self-destructive habits. He knew there was no point, as much as he knew it upset others. He knew that they knew too.
How he wanted to just leave and wither in a ditch where they couldn't find him.
"It's always lovely to me, darling. It's even my favourite colour."
He's trying very hard, to keep pretending. He's acting like it's a normal day, like he and his world were not collapsing ever slowly. He didn't have a choice. Or rather, it was the only choice that would help those around him. He had to be happy, to make them believe he was okay. Even if they both knew he wasn't. They just pretend. Just keep pretending. That's all he had.
Keeping a gentle but firm hold on Brumm's hand, the moth lead him into his chamber, which was, unsurprisingly, rather messy. It normally was, an organized mess as he liked to call it, but there wasn't much organized about it now. The collection of cushions were strewn about the bed of messy blankets, as well as the floor, much less neatly than usual. A side table has been completely tipped over, he hasn't made the effort to pick it back up. There were still empty bottles around. Not as many, perhaps he had the energy to clean them up, or the guilt maybe.
"...Don't mind the mess. I've, uh...not been very good at keeping up with it, I suppose."
He tries to keep a smile, and the shame out of his features, as he brings the beetle over to the bed. It's when he sits down that his pain becomes more obvious to even himself, and he visibly winces at the ache that runs through his legs and back, something he quickly tries to hide.
The laugh he manages to get from the beetle is more than a delight. It warms his heart and makes him almost forget the fate breathing down his neck. If only he really could, but at the least he can try to ignore it for now.
"Thank yourself for those words, darling. But I understand the difficulty in remembering them. I'm still trying."
He offers Brumm a warm smile, and a gentle squeeze to his hand, before guiding him towards his own chambers. He does, his very best, to also ignore the ache in his joints. He'd like to hope it's not obvious in the less elegant way he walks.
"Come on then, let's see if I can't do something about your lovely fur."
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The laugh he manages to get from the beetle is more than a delight. It warms his heart and makes him almost forget the fate breathing down his neck. If only he really could, but at the least he can try to ignore it for now.
"Thank yourself for those words, darling. But I understand the difficulty in remembering them. I'm still trying."
He offers Brumm a warm smile, and a gentle squeeze to his hand, before guiding him towards his own chambers. He does, his very best, to also ignore the ache in his joints. He'd like to hope it's not obvious in the less elegant way he walks.
"Come on then, let's see if I can't do something about your lovely fur."
Hearing those words, his gaze softens and he breathes a gentle sigh. How he felt those same feelings. And he was the one dying. He was the one with both a searing and dull ache throughout his body. He was the one ready to fall apart at the seams, and quite literally. Yet still, it felt he didn't deserve the comfort he desperately wanted. Perhaps he was a fool, but it was hardly something he could help. He didn't have the time to even try to change that mindset.
He waited patiently for Brumm to retrieve his things, and when he came back to his side to take a hold of his hand, Grimm brought the beetle's up to place a gentle kiss on it.
"My sweet Brumm... You know we are a family. We will always be there for each other. Any issues you have are important, no matter how small you believe they are."
With a cant of his head, a smirk plays on his features.
"Hmm, that sounds familiar. I wonder who has said that to me before."
It's in playfulness, because he knows very well Brumm has said an approximation of that to him once or twice.
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