[Bleeding red smoke and the ash of countless lands absorbed by the Grimm Troupe, the Troupe Master continues draw breath. Vessels were made to endure and the vessel of the Flame more so. The Nightmare King was not a malicious being, his nightmares granted and absorbed were a natural thing of life, cycle or no cycle. But regardless of how he felt, sticking one's hand into a fire will always burn flesh. And so each incarnation of Grimm, no matter who they were, physically could endure the flame burning within.
But to contain nightmares is to contain the fear of the lands and bugs as it was those made with Void were the ones who would always hold the regrets of all. They both had ghosts that followed along, chained to children even if they would or would not grow. There were limits.
And this, a crumbling heart and body, was Grimm's limit. He had nothing left but to wake.
It is not the first time he has been brought this low. Unknown to the Knight, for those who could not dream-walk and meet the Nightmare King in person, there was another method. To fight and dance and burn until he could no more. To draw the God of Nightmares as close as possible to the physical realm, becoming that Flame. He was born from Flame and would die and be reborn endlessly by that Flame.
The Nightmare King is not here, nor are the countless incarnations long since past. It was just Grimm and the Knight. Just two people who carried burdens in their hearts that left no room for the one who carried them. Something done willingly but heavy all the same.
The Troupe Master feels the Knight press their forehead against his for a moment and relaxes. He knows what is coming. The world hangs on a rapidly unraveling thread. If he was to wake from this crumbling world then it must be destroyed.
The nail pierces his chest and through his back. Ash and red smoke seep through the gaps between blade and shell, but there is no sound of pain. Even if it hurts, Grimm closes his eyes without a sound passing his lips.
There is no heartbeat echoing in the room any longer. The stitched together nature of the world begins to unravel and expose the darkness underneath. But it is not the darkness of regret.
It's the darkness of newer world. When all nightmares are taken the lands become dark until the light shines upon them again. Before it was the Radiance's light. Now? It was simply the light carried within each unique bug that wandered the new soil.
Worlds within worlds. Endless songs.
Grimm feels the fuzzy edges of his mind sharpen and he wraps his arms around the Knight. He did not know if the Knight will follow him back into reality and he was holding on desperately to make sure that happened. It must happen.
If he can ask for anything, let them not have sacrificed their life for his.]
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But to contain nightmares is to contain the fear of the lands and bugs as it was those made with Void were the ones who would always hold the regrets of all. They both had ghosts that followed along, chained to children even if they would or would not grow. There were limits.
And this, a crumbling heart and body, was Grimm's limit. He had nothing left but to wake.
It is not the first time he has been brought this low. Unknown to the Knight, for those who could not dream-walk and meet the Nightmare King in person, there was another method. To fight and dance and burn until he could no more. To draw the God of Nightmares as close as possible to the physical realm, becoming that Flame. He was born from Flame and would die and be reborn endlessly by that Flame.
The Nightmare King is not here, nor are the countless incarnations long since past. It was just Grimm and the Knight. Just two people who carried burdens in their hearts that left no room for the one who carried them. Something done willingly but heavy all the same.
The Troupe Master feels the Knight press their forehead against his for a moment and relaxes. He knows what is coming. The world hangs on a rapidly unraveling thread. If he was to wake from this crumbling world then it must be destroyed.
The nail pierces his chest and through his back. Ash and red smoke seep through the gaps between blade and shell, but there is no sound of pain. Even if it hurts, Grimm closes his eyes without a sound passing his lips.
There is no heartbeat echoing in the room any longer. The stitched together nature of the world begins to unravel and expose the darkness underneath. But it is not the darkness of regret.
It's the darkness of newer world. When all nightmares are taken the lands become dark until the light shines upon them again. Before it was the Radiance's light. Now? It was simply the light carried within each unique bug that wandered the new soil.
Worlds within worlds. Endless songs.
Grimm feels the fuzzy edges of his mind sharpen and he wraps his arms around the Knight. He did not know if the Knight will follow him back into reality and he was holding on desperately to make sure that happened. It must happen.
If he can ask for anything, let them not have sacrificed their life for his.]