Chapter Text
Traveling with the flea caravan was an unexpected surprise, though Hornet did not mind it in the slightest. It was a welcome rest for her weary legs, and the fleas themselves were rather pleasant. Small and fluffy, with wandering tongues that lapped at Hornet’s face more often than not. Some may think them a nuisance, but Hornet adored them, though she rarely let her affections show. Still, she couldn’t help but bring one into her lap and sigh into its downy fur, a reprieve from. Well. Everything happening recently.
The carriage she rested in slowed to a halt, and as Hornet drifted back to reality, she heard soft raindrops on the roof. Greymoor.
She stepped out of the carriage to find the fleas all set up, with a bench and a pot of warm flea brew ready for any passersby.
Mooshka’s eye caught hers and she stepped towards him, her cloak already dampening in the relentless rain.
“Thank you for letting me ride with you, it was a welcome rest from my travels,” Hornet said. Mooshka heartily nodded.
“Of course! It was no burden, we take on many travelers. Besides, your needle and combat skills were a comforting thought on the journey, lest we encounter unwelcoming bugs!” His laugh boomed through the settlement.
Hornet would gladly take on anyone who dared harm the fleas. She nodded.
“Of course.”
Mooshka beamed at her and took a swig from a clear flask at his hip, filled with glowing orange liquid.
“Care for some brew?” he asked, leaning the flask towards Hornet. She watched the brew spill out of the bottle and land on the wet cobbled ground. Mooshka was oblivious to this.
“No, thank you. I have business to attend to,” Hornet told him. He shrugged and took another swig, burping.
Hornet turned tail and began her way to eastern Greymoor. “Until we meet again, warrior!” Mooshka yelled after her.
Hornet dashed and jumped with ease up the platforms of Greymoor, despite the slippery stones on her feet. Her destination was clear, though. The halfway home, to give Creige those crawbug ragpelts she had collected a while back. Better late than never, she supposed.
In just half an hour she had arrived at the door to the halfway home. Despite its generally dull atmosphere, Hornet enjoyed the company of the little place. A warmth emanated from its windows and doorframe, one that was missing from the rest of Greymoor.
Hornet pushed open the door, expecting to hear only the gentle hum of Creige the bartender and the vague drip of water from the leaking roof onto the paneled floors. Familiarity, comfort.
She was instead greeted by a lively scene, livelier than she had ever seen in Pharloom before. Dozens of bugs were crammed into the small tables and booths of the bar, laughing and drunkenly singing old songs. On a raised platform that Hornet had hardly noticed before was a small band, with a tall, lean bug playing a stringed instrument and two shorter ones, siblings perhaps, singing loudly, voices echoing through the small room.
Hornet wandered into the chaos in awe, looking around and trying not to trip on any stray limbs or wings. She stepped up to the bar and tried to catch Creige’s attention.
He was pouring a glass of his classic nectar and laughing heartily with a group of old, squat bugs. He slid them each a glass before turning his attention to Hornet.
“Ah! Our warrior returns. Care for a drink? Glass of nectar, syrup, honey. We got everything an’ anything!” his words were slightly slurred. Hornet supposed being drunk came with the territory of being a bartender.
“The crawbug ragpelts you requested?” she asked, ignoring his buzz. Creige stared for a second before snapping his claw.
“Aye! Thank you kindly, miss. Nearly forgot about that whole mess,” he said, scooping the pelts from Hornet’s claws and tucking them up on some shelf. “Anyways, a drink? Discount tonight, only 7 rosaries apiece!”
A wing smacked Hornet in the face and she elbowed the aggressor away.
“What’s the occasion? This is far from the usual one or two guests I see around,” Hornet said. Creige whistled in disbelief.
“Haventcha heard? Bellhart’s been freed! Some weaver had it trapped in her twitchy claws, nasty thing. Thank Gods she’s gone!”
Hornet blinked. She knew of the freed town, of course she did. She had been the one to do it. But it was not exactly recent news.
“Yes, I’m aware, but was it not several weeks ago that the town was unbound? I see no reason to delay such a celebration,” Hornet said.
Creige shrugged. “Apparently they waited until they had it all back up and runnin’ again, and they needed some generous donations for that!” He laughed heartily. She knew of these donations too, she gave them of course. It took ages to gather enough rosaries, but seeing the citizens so dismayed was unbearable. She even got a bellhome out of it, though it was entirely unnecessary. Still, she didn’t mind a place to call her own.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it’s all back to normal. May Bellhart flourish,” Hornet said, not wanting the attention that came with being the hero of the town. She appreciated recognition, but she was already overwhelmed by the bustling tavern and would rather avoid it right now.
“Aye,” Creige said cheerfully. A bug on the other side of the bar waved him over, pointing at her empty glass and gesturing wildly. Creige shrugged at Hornet.
“Business calls, feel free to stay for a while. You’re always welcome here, warrior!” and he walked away to deal with the guest.
Hornet was still reeling from the busyness of the once quiet tavern. She did not much care for the noise, though the company of fellow bugs was always appreciated. She had a tendency to get lonely traveling in the caves and caverns of Pharloom, with only aggressive bugs to greet her. It was nice being around regular bugs again.
A long tail coated in metal armor suddenly slapped into Hornet’s side. She winced and turned to face the culprit, ready to give them a harsh glare.
Her aggression disappeared and her eyes grew wide. “Shakra?”
The cartographer was sitting on a stool at the bar next to a squat bug with a large scar on her face. Shakra was smiling halfheartedly and laughing with the bug when Hornet said her name. She turned and her eyes lit up when she saw the red-cloaked warrior.
“Poshanka! Hornet Wielding Needle! A pleasant surprise we are to meet here, of all places,” she said, beaming down at Hornet. “Sit, sit!”
Hornet hopped onto the empty barstool beside Shakra.
“Are you also celebrating the freeing of Bellhart?” Hornet asked. Shakra shrugged.
“I needed a drink,” she said candidly. Hornet nodded understandingly.
“And you, Red Lady? What possibly brings you here?” Shakra questioned back. Hornet pointed to Creige.
“A request from the bartender,” she said simply. Shakra nodded.
“I always do find you flitting about on quests from stray bugs you just met,” Shakra said. “To think it would be so easy as to write a request on a board, and aha, Hornet has completed it for me!” She burst into giggles. Hornet noticed the red tinge to her face.
“And how many drinks have you needed, exactly?” Hornet asked dryly. Shakra laughed harder, leaning back on her stool.
“Enough, young one! Enough,” she said warmly, passing her half-empty glass to Hornet with a wink. Hornet stared into the creamy liquid.
She wasn’t one for alcohol, but it was a special occasion…
Hornet tilted back her head and cracked open her rarely-used jaw, throwing back the drink in a single go. The glass clanked against her sharp teeth. Shakra beamed at her.
“Creige!” she called joyfully. “More nectar for the lady!”
=====
Hornet, despite being only 3 nectars in, was feeling woozy. Her head swayed and her thoughts were jumbled like grubs in a pile. Was this what alcohol was like? She could hardly find it pleasant. Luckily for her, she remained largely conscious of her actions and speech. She was glad of it, a loose tongue was unwise in Shakra’s presence.
Shakra, on the other hand. She was what one may call plastered.
The capable and strong warrior was transformed into a giggling mess, leaning on the bar table and hiccuping every other word. Hornet pretended her heart didn’t flutter at the sight.
“Ssso I said, a trapped flea sure doesn’t bite!” Shakra finished, cackling hysterically. Hornet didn’t remember the first part of her story. Shakra didn’t seem to either.
“She used to loooovee those jokes,” Shakra said, gazing down into her glass and circling her finger around the rim. Hornet suspected she was talking about her missing master. The bug continued.
“Sshe, she was… she was like my mother… She was soooo wond’rful.. Never backed away from a challenge.. And neither.. do I..” she trailed off, flopping her head on the table in front of her. Hornet’s heart ached for her.
“You’ll find her, Shakra,” she said, placing an awkward claw on Shakra’s shoulder. “I know it.” She was rarely one to comfort people, on account of her not quite knowing how, but she wanted to try. For Shakra.
Shakra picked her head up from the table and looked at Hornet with shining eyes.
“T’thanks, Red… Red……” she trailed off into thought, keeping her eyes on Hornet the entire time. She seemed almost entranced. Hornet shifted in her seat.
“She’d love to meet you,” Shakra said finally in a soft, quiet voice. Hornet’s insides twisted.
“She will, I’m certain of it,” Hornet said quietly, breaking eye contact and looking into the bottom of her glass of nectar.
“She’d like you,” Shakra continued. “I… If I could find her, I’d– I’d tell her..”
Shakra paused to take a long drink from her glass. She wiped her mouth with her arm and looked at Hornet with renewed confidence.
“I– I’d tell her I’d met the preeetiiest bug in the land!” she slurred loudly, almost tipping over on her stool. Hornet nodded, not quite processing Shakra’s words, until they hit her like a wet crawbug to the face.
“W’what?” she said blankly, face warming. Shakra ignored her confusion and continued.
“I’d.. I’d take you home, to- to my village, you c’could meet my broother,” she droned. “I- I could show you my faaavorite spot under the waterfall, a’and we’d gaze at the brilliant stars in the black sky,” Shakra spread her arms wide open, gesturing to the infinite maw of the night sky. Stargazing, she suggested.
Hornet wasn’t sure if Shakra was saying what she thought she was saying.
“Um, I–”
But Hornet barely had time to utter two words before Shakra quickly and suddenly leaned in close to her. Hornet gasped. She felt Shakra’s breath on her face. It smelled strongly of alcohol.
“I could show you to my bed, too,” Shakra said in a low, rumbling voice. Hornet’s face flushed the same red as her cloak.
Shakra leaned away from her and laughed heartily, taking great pleasure in Hornet’s flusteredness. Hornet pulled up the collar of her cloak to cover her burning face.
“Aww, hiding, are we?” Shakra teased, inching again closer to Hornet. Her chest was fluttering like a freed lumafly.
“I’tsookay,” Shakra hummed, taking a finger and deftly pulling the cloak collar down so she could see Hornet’s face.
“I don’t bite.”
Hornet’s heart pounded, blood rushed to her head. Gods, Shakra couldn’t just DO that. She was flirty and smooth and Hornet wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take without grabbing her face and kissing her senseless. Or perhaps collapsing into a puddle. Either one would do.
“Biting is the least of my concerns,” Hornet managed, avoiding eye contact.
“Welllll, what’s the greatest concern?” Shakra teased, backing away just a bit.
Hornet could not answer. How could she say that her greatest concern was forming a connection, her greatest concern was finding a mate only for them to wither and die in not even a quarter of her lifespan? She couldn’t say that to Shakra. Not here,
not now.
“I’d say it’s how much you’ve had to drink,” Hornet said dryly. Shakra hmphed, picking up her glass in defiance. She frowned upon finding it empty. Hornet hid her amusement.
The crowd, though slightly thinned since Hornet’s arrival, loudly cheered in the direction of the stage. Hornet looked up to see the source of the commotion.
The band, which had taken a break to have a few drinks, stumbled back on. The slender bug took their instrument and tuned it, before nodding at the singing twins. The music started up with a lively hum, though just slightly off-tune this time.
Shakra, eyes on the band, was tapping her foot along to the rhythm. She closed her eyes and hummed along. Hornet must admit, the music was pleasant. While she was too distracted to notice it much upon her entry, it was cleverly designed and well-sung. Lively, bright. Warming.
Shakra’s eyes opened with a new shine in them, and she looked mischievously down at Hornet. She stood from her chair and held a claw out to Hornet. Hornet tilted her head in confusion.
“May I have this dance?” Shakra asked.
Hornet stared at her, face heating up again. She was certainly not one for dances, even if Shakra was the one leading her.
Hornet didn’t realize she hadn’t answered until Shakra grasped Hornet’s thin wrist in her strong claw, dashing out in front of the band where a group of lively bugs swayed to the music. Ohhh no.
Hornet tried to pull away but Shakra’s grip was strong, and well, Hornet didn’t particularly mind being held by her capable claw.
That was, until Shakra placed her other claw on Hornet’s hip, and well, now she cared a bit more. Her body warmed and her face tinged red as Shakra tried to lead her in a drunken, stumbling dance.
“Follow my lead, young one!” Shakra shouted over the music, moving her feet back and forth in patterns mysterious to Hornet. She tried her best to follow along, but ended up feeling stilted and awkward in Shakra’s capable arms. Shakra laughed.
“And I was under the impression you were nimble, Red Lady,” she teased, lifting her arm and treating Hornet to a spin. Hornet’s cloak swirled around her.
“Nimble perhaps in combat, but this–” Hornet almost slammed into another bug, but Shakra pulled her swiftly out of the way, leaving Hornet close to her chest. Hornet blushed and continued. “This is a far different situation.”
“Psshh, nonsense! You’re more than capable, dearest," Shakra said, still holding Hornet tightly. Hornet couldn’t help but flush brighter. Dearest? Gods, she hadn’t heard that in a while.
“I really don’t–” Hornet started, but the music rapidly picked up pace. Bugs twirled around them, dark shells shining with the glow of the gleamlights that hung from the ceiling. Hornet herself was warm and slightly fuzzy with the alcohol. The bar was filled entirely with light.
Just before the music reached its climax, Shakra led her in another twirl. Hornet tried her best to reciprocate, bringing her arm up as high as possible in an attempt to spin Shakra. But the bug was too tall and ended up ducking under Hornet’s arm, giggling. Hornet’s heart melted.
The end of the song. Shakra took Hornet and led her in one last move. Hornet was prepared for anything– spins, twirls, footwork. She could do it, poorly perhaps, but her confidence was boosted by euphoria and alcohol.
She was not, however, prepared for Shakra to place her claws deftly on Hornet’s back and dip her down towards the floor while Hornet clung to the bug’s shoulders. The song finished and cheers erupted for the band, but the whole world was silent and still for Hornet.
Shakra’s claws held Hornet carefully, gently, as she gazed down at her with bright, shining eyes. Her antennae were kinked and knotted and her already shining golden armor practically glowed with the warmth of the bar. Hornet was utterly enchanted.
Shakra pulled Hornet back up to standing, leaving the two so close Hornet could hear Shakra’s heartbeat, rapid in her chest.
Shakra’s tangled antennae irked her, so Hornet beckoned her down to her level with a welcoming claw. The bug obliged without question. Hornet reached up and carefully undid the knot that had wound itself into the antennae. When she was finished with her task, she just gazed at Shakra, too scared to move or say anything.
One of the moving bugs on their way back to the bar smacked into the pair, startling Hornet out of her trance. She backed away quickly, separating herself from Shakra. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, the whole bar could probably hear its song.
Shakra, now returned to full height, was gazing softly down at her.
“Hornet…” she muttered softly. She almost looked like she was about to say something. Hornet braced herself for the incoming words, but she should have been bracing herself for Shakra collapsing forwards onto her shoulder.
Hornet grunted against the impact, quickly utilizing her silk to help support her. What had she done wrong, was Shakra overexerted? Surely such a warrior should not faint from a mere dance.
Hornet, unfamiliar with alcohol and its effects, rushed over to Creige for advice.
“Creige,” she said, trying to keep the panic from her voice. “She’s collapsed, what shall I do? Was it the alcohol, the dance, the—“
Hornet felt Shakra rumble a drunken giggle from her resting spot on Hornet’s shoulder. She turned just slightly to find Shakra’s eyes open and looking at her softly.
Creige looked up from washing off a glass to eyeball the cartographer and shrugged.
“Just had a bit too much to drink, she’ll be right as rain come mornin’” he said, continuing his work.
Hornet exhaled in relief. She was fine. Now the issue was finding a suitable place for Shakra to rest. The bench in the halfway home was nice, yes, but not suitable for a night’s sleep.
“Have you any open rooms tonight?” Hornet asked. She suspected not, given the full bar, but Creige nodded.
“Aye, just one. Right up the stairs, here’s the key,” he tossed a worn bronze key into Hornet’s claws.
“And rosaries?” she asked. He shook his head.
“Figured I’d let the lovebugs stay for free, eh?” he winked. Hornet’s face heated.
“Thank you, Creige,” she said firmly, ignoring his comment and ascending the stairs to the room.
Hornet was an agile warrior, yes, but as for physical strength, she relied more on quick thinking and clever traps to overpower her enemies. Thus, carrying Shakra’s muscled body up the stairs of the halfway home was no easy feat. It was not helped by Shakra’s half-asleep woozy state, where she frequently mumbled under her breath and for the love of the Gods could not stop giggling. It was adorable, and distracting.
Still, Hornet kicked open the door to find a cozy little room, with a chair or two next to a window looking out into the rainy streets of Greymoor. And, of course, a bed. Small, with thin mauve blankets.
Hornet brought Shakra over to the bed, finally depositing her with a grunt. She looked at the bug on the bed and nodded.
“A fine resting place, indeed,” Hornet said, rather pleased with herself. She placed the key on the nightstand and began turning to leave, but something in her prolonged the stay just a bit. One final glance wouldn’t hurt, surely?
She gazed down at the half asleep warrior, with her long, muscular limbs and shimmering armor. Those golden rings, so intricate yet so lethal. There was an enchanting quality about something so beautiful taking a life with such ease.
“Rest well, my warrior,” Hornet said softly, tracing her claw lightly across Shakra’s cheek. She ripped her eyes away and stepped forward, but a claw grasped her wrist. She turned back to the bed to find Shakra, eyes half lidded and gazing at Hornet.
“Stay,” she mumbled softly, sweetly. Not a proposition, merely an invitation.
Gods, Hornet really shouldn’t. She knew better, she had years of knowledge and heartbreak to know better than to accept her offer. It wasn’t worth it, in the end. She had to harden her heart.
But seeing Shakra, so beautiful, so perfect, lying on that bed, pleading for Hornet to stay, please stay. Walls she had worked for years to build cracked and crumbled at the plea of a single bug. How pathetic.
Hornet approached the bed and Shakra shifted to the side to make room for her. Her heart pounded as she sat, then laid next to the bug. She turned her head to find Shakra’s face mere inches from hers.
“Hi,” Hornet said stupidly. Shakra burst into a fit of giggles. Hornet couldn’t help but join her.
Shakra stretched an arm over Hornet’s body, wrapping it around her and pulling them closer to each other. Hornet soaked in the intimacy, though she couldn’t help but notice Shakra was just slightly cold. She had an idea to help that.
Hornet slowly, carefully stretched her downy wings over Shakra’s body, fluttering them slightly and sending pearly feathers floating down around them. She was still unused to using them, but she had to admit they were excellent for comfort.
Shakra’s eyes widened. “R’red Lady, you…” she trailed off as her eyes drooped again, cuddling under the warmth of Hornet’s wings.
“You m’must be an angel…” Shakra murmured softly. Hornet didn’t know what to say.
The bugs were practically intertwined now. Hornet felt Shakra’s breath on her shell, she felt the rise and fall of her chest against her own. A soft rumble echoed from Hornet’s core, a purr. Shakra ran a claw along Hornet’s wing, resulting in a pleasant shiver, and more purring.
“Sensitive, hm?..” Shakra muttered softly, her deep voice vibrating through Hornet’s body. Hornet curled closer to Shakra, she wanted to open her chest and crawl in to live with her organs.
Hornet began drifting out of consciousness, the combined alcohol and cozyness was too much for her. Her thoughts lulled to a drip instead of the usual waterfall, and she pressed her face against Shakra’s chest. She drifted to sleep listening to soft breathing and a steady heartbeat.