Chapter Text
Hornet stands over the wrecked elevator, crushed white flowers catching the void dripping around the walls of the Citadel. Sparks from grinding metal fly out of walls that have been torn open by falling debris, gears peeking out through the walls, some jammed by the same debris. She leaps down, ducking under steam blowing from vents with a singleminded determination to get to Songclave.
There’s someone yelling her name, but she can’t see where. She’s too dizzy to see anything, really, all focus on keeping conscious as the ground sways beneath her, floor coming upwards to catch her fall, or- No. No, she’s falling. Far too far for comfort, out of the Cradle and into another chamber- the Architect’s Chamber, metal memorials crushed under the falling rocks.
She's fucked it all up, hasn't she. Trying to save a dying kingdom merely doomed it in a different, more brutal way.
She hopes her… her friends are okay.
Staggering to her feet, she only manages a few steps before doubling over in pain again, gritting her mandibles to keep from screaming. She tries to move forward despite it again, but can’t work up the energy, toppling forward.
There’s a lovely voice coming from nearby. She can’t see them with her face smushed into the flooring, but she imagines the owner of it would be quite beautiful.
Footsteps nearby worry her, but she can’t quite work up the strength to do anything about it. She’s swept into strong arms, gently held against someone’s shoulder as she’s carried away. Vaguely, she can see yellow… Or maybe gold. One of the two colors, for sure.
Now there’s two voices, both pleasing to her ears, though she couldn’t tell why with her head so fuzzy. She’s passed from one set of arms to another, this one far warmer than the other, whom Hornet just noticed was oddly cold. This one’s definitely yellow, but she can’t quite make herself turn her head to check the difference between her first rescuer and second.
As she drifts into slumber, she can strain her ears just enough to catch fragments of conversations happening above her.
“-ake her to-”
“-ntenial-wielding-scis-”
-C-c-can count on th-is senten…”
-rotect?-
-y-y-you carr-”
And she wants to ask what’s going on, who these lovely people are, but she slips into unconsciousness before she can. She should be worried, but all Hornet can think about is how lovely those two voices sound, and how pretty the colors of their shells are.
Falling under the cover of sleep, she hears one last voice, clearer than the last.
“It’s alright. We’ve got you, love.”