where pilgrims are sinners, saints go to hell

2

When she finished making her bed, she took her journal and pencil and walked outside, heading towards the garden that had quickly become her favorite.

It didn't look very different to the rest of them, but perhaps the placing of the little iron bench made the view a bit better, or the fact that there were more of those strange dragonflies fluttering around the bed of roses which seemed, at times, to be the only living things in the palace besides her.

When she arrived she sat down, and opened the book to place the next tally mark. The sixth. Six days since she had gotten the journal, since the last time she had seen the King.

She had known what she was signing up for when she had decided to come into the palace, and she knew there would be no way to avoid it. At the end of the day, his reputation of reclusive was something that was earned, and the Pale King had definitely earned it.

She didn't care. She wasn't here to talk to him as much as to just present herself as his servant and devotee. Along with observing the palace, and learning as much as possible about how the kingdom had been during its glory days. ...even though there wasn't much to observe after walking around for some time, and the archives about the kingdom's history weren't kept here, she knew. But she pretended she didn't.

She opened the last page she had used, and started doodling the roses, again. She had probably about ten pages worth of sketches of the same three different types of flower that grew in the garden, but there wasn't a lot more to draw. She wrote a lot, too. But she couldn't really find anything to say at the moment.

-

It was like this that he found her -by accident, he would have liked to say. But he knew it wouldn't have been believable, given the circumstances. Truly, it was impossible to miss her, even if he hadn't been looking for her. She stood out so much from the rest of the environment, he would have known of her alienness even if she hadn't mentioned it the day of her arrival. Her softly colored skin and hair were the only non monochromatic sight there was to be had in this entire realm.

She, again, noticed him a second before he actually came into view. She stood up and bowed deeply, "My King", before sitting back down and looking at him.

"To what do I owe the honour of your presence, your Highness?"

Ah. Well. He supposed he could just tell the truth and be done with it, but he didn't feel like saying that he was bored or intrigued was something that his dignity would take kindly to. Instead, he just replied "These grounds are ours, are they not?", which he knew was just a fancier way of saying 'because I want to'. He would not trick himself into believing that she wouldn't read right past his words, but he was thankful when she didn't address it.

"They certainly are".

He slowly moved to take a seat on the bench next to the one she was using. They... looked at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. He had thought she would eventually turn back to whatever she was doing with the journal before his arrival, but she seemed determined not to ignore him. Probably out of respect, he guessed. In a past age this behavior would have been expected of anyone that interacted with him, and he wouldn't even have noticed. Now it just made him feel slightly awkward.

"...we see you have given those forgotten books a new purpose" he said.

"I have, indeed".

"And what is it?"

She seemed caught off guard by that. Well, she seemed caught off guard by the mere fact that they were having a conversation. Which was understandable.

She thought for a moment.

"I enjoy drawing some of the flora in these gardens, as well as writing, though I'm not very good at it. I take notes on what I see around the palace and what I find in the library. Although it isn't much, it's quite interesting". She opened the journal and flickered between pages, presumably looking for something to show him, but seemed to change her mind and instead opened the very first page, which contained nothing but six lines drawn. Five of them vertically, and one crossed diagonally over the first four.

"I have also been using it to keep track of time. I know days don't really pass naturally in Hallownest, much less in the dream realm; so I've just been placing a mark each time I go to sleep".

The King sat there for a moment, confused. An uncommon feeling in him, though less so lately.

"...days?"

She blinked. "Oh... forgive me, your Majesty, I was misplaced for a moment. How does your kingdom measure time?"

"It does... it did not. There was no need for such a thing".

She blinked again, seemingly at a loss. "You... don't keep track of time? At all? What if I were to ask you how old you are?"

He didn't know, of course. Even if his kingdom had kept a way of measuring its age, he was severely older than it, and the nest where he was born out in the Wastes certainly didn't have a calendar, either.

"Our age is larger than you can imagine. This kingdom's standing was barely a fraction of it".

There was a moment of silence, before the sound of her chuckle filled the room. "Well, everything seems a bit eternal if your frame of reference is that of a bug's lifespan, does it not?"

Now was his turn to be surprised. Her smile seemed equal parts amused and all knowing, as if she were handing him the pieces to a puzzle and waiting for him to complete it, and for the first time he wondered if he had been looking at her with the wrong eyes.

"...we suppose it does". A pause. "We assume your kind does keep track of the passage of time?"

"It does, yes. ...would you like me to explain?"

Oh, what a low blow, truly. He knew she knew he wanted her to explain, why else would he have mentioned it otherwise, and for some reason she still felt the need to make him ask? As if his pride hadn't suffered enough already. How disrespectful, as if he would ever stoop so low as to ask-

"If you would".

She smiled wider. "Well, there are different units of different magnitudes, because a single one can't be useful in every context. The smallest one is called a second, which is "-a small pause-" this long. A minute consists of sixty seconds, an hour of sixty minutes, a day of twenty four hours, a week of seven days, a month of four weeks, and a year of twelve months. There are some other units shorter than a second and longer than a year, but those are barely used in day to day life".

There were so many. He wondered what each of them was used for.

"We see. And each of those marks represents a... day?" He guessed the last part. He still hadn't wrapped his mind completely around these concepts, but he didn't think it could have been much longer than that since he took her to the library.

"Yes, correct. A day is normally the amount of time since we wake up until we wake up again the next day. ...does that make sense? I'm sorry, I've never had to explain this before".

"It does". He turned his head towards the view, hesitant. "...thank you".

He could hear the smile in her voice. "Thank you for your interest, my King".

She turned her head to the garden as well, and they both watched as one of the dragonflies settled on a perfectly white rose.