[ It hadn't stood in the rain to achieve an expression, of sorts, but rather for the nostalgia of the feeling. It hadn't been taken to the City of Tears often, and certainly not since its Father had built the fountain in its honour, but it had been a memory. Late one day, when all were sleeping save a few, and they had walked those carved streets. It had watched the way the water droplets fell from His crown past His eyes and down His chin, and it had almost wanted to hold His hand.
Now it wished it had. He would have taken His hand away, it was sure, but there would have been a moment, just a moment, when His fingers would have curled around it in return, and in that moment it would have offered Him some respite.
Just some.
Grimm's arms enfolded it in a warm embrace, far more comforting than its Father's scant touch had ever been. And yet the affection, though far more effusive and blatant, did not fill the hole that was left in the confirmation of His absence.
The Hollow Knight raised its arms, settled them around the moth who had been its Father's friend, and curled into the hug. ]
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Now it wished it had. He would have taken His hand away, it was sure, but there would have been a moment, just a moment, when His fingers would have curled around it in return, and in that moment it would have offered Him some respite.
Just some.
Grimm's arms enfolded it in a warm embrace, far more comforting than its Father's scant touch had ever been. And yet the affection, though far more effusive and blatant, did not fill the hole that was left in the confirmation of His absence.
The Hollow Knight raised its arms, settled them around the moth who had been its Father's friend, and curled into the hug. ]