Repurposed | Quirrel x Sheo x Nailsmith

Chapter One: In Which The Nailsmith Is Spared

The Pure Nail.

He's done it. He's made it. The most powerful and durable nail that can ever be forged.

The Pure Nail, made from pale ore, the mysterious colorless metal that permeates the air with an icy chill. Despite having hammered away at the nail to forge and shape it, his hands don't feel any warmth from the blade. He stares at the intricate marks and grooves throughout the weapon. He made those marks, those details, those swirls. It was his hands that etched thought and meaning into them, but now he was tracing the metal as if he'd never seen it before.

The Nailsmith looks at the bug standing beside him. They're a small bug, with eyes as big and as hollow as an inky dark abyss. He calls them The Knight, although he's never learned their real name. He doesn't so much as know the sound of their voice, as they've never spoken. Even among the silent types The Nailsmith has made weapons for, this bug truly makes no sound. Even without talking, bugs make a plethora of noises, whether that be from them sighing, humming, groaning, or hell even breathing, there's always something.

But this is the first bug The Nailsmith has ever met to be completely silent.

The Nailsmith calls this strange bug The Knight because, well, that's what they seemed to be. When he first met them, The Knight walked into his hut with a nail by their side, (a rather ugly and horribly damaged nail at that,) and although they lacked the words to do so, they asked him to repair their nail.

Customers were hard to come by these days. Even if there were many still wandering around Hallownest, they most likely weren't aware his hut even existed, much less that The Nailsmith inside was still alive. So needless to say, he was rather surprised to have a new visitor. He accepted their request, repairing the nail with a price. Even though the use for geo had become near obsolete, that didn't mean he was going to take work for free.

The Knight had shown up a few more times after that, getting their nail upgraded and becoming more confident with it. The Nailsmith, always alone with his thoughts, couldn't help but wonder where the small bug went time and time again. They would be gone for long stretches of time and would always return with their cloak in worse condition. The Nailsmith didn't worry much though, as long as the bug carried a nail made by him, he was confident they'd prevail in any dangerous encounter.

The Nailsmith snaps out of his thoughts. He sees The Knight, looking at the Pure Nail expectantly, and wonders what they think of his work. If they're happy, the Nailsmith can't tell. The Knight wears no expression on their face and never has. He gives them back their nail, almost hesitantly, almost eager to get it out of their possession.

"Well there you are, a Pure Nail just as requested." The Nailsmith's casual tone does nothing to portray the overwhelming amount of emotions he's feeling. That nail is the culmination of his life's work, the centerpiece to his life itself. It's a representation of all he's studied, the countless nails he deemed failures, the countless nails he sold to travelers. That Pure Nail not only marks the peak of his career as a nailsmith, but the end of it as well.

The Knight holds out their tiny hands and takes back their sword. The perfect weight of the metal is shown by how easily The Knight sheathes it despite their small size.

"You know, I never thought this day would come," The Nailsmith talks to mostly himself. He can see The Knight take interest in his words as they lean in and tilt their head ever so slightly. "With pale ore so hard to come by, especially nowadays, I figured I'd never be complete."

The Knight does not comment.

The Nailsmith stands up, his breathing suddenly becoming heavy. He avoids The Knight's gaze, although he can feel it as if it's boring holes into his shell. "Excuse me, I must step outside for a moment."