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The meeting place was in Ustria, but where inside was never specified. A land of brimstone, molten metal, and industry, layers upon layers of infrastructure stretching out further than the eye could see, brought an intimidating venture. The only hint the interviewer got was that he would be joining for a walk.
They wandered from places of historical importance, museums, the ruins of the old labyrinth, and some of the oldest districts. No sign of Harmond, but they kept walking any ways.
Was it supposed to be a puzzle? Or a riddle? They've heard of world beasts that spoke only in riddles or metaphors, broken languages, or could only imitate things others have said. That didn't seem like the case, though, from what they could take in of the information they've walked through.
As they wandered, something drew them to the darker parts of the city, as if the shadows called to them. They didn't notice at first how the shadows shaped and bent around them, warped like they were magnetized in the little light that shone through these more grim parts.
An uncast shadow followed theirs, and not a body it attached to. A wolf-like creature on all fours, its withers at shoulder height for the rather average interviewer. The paws it walked on were stretched and elongated so the toes did not lose resemblance to the paws they were yet they also reached out like hands. Sharper and more shapely feline ears twitched and turned at the slightest of sounds around atop the canine skull. More than one set of glowing red eyes opened wide and peered around incoherently in every direction from the tip of the nose to the end of the long, wide sweeping tail.
"Have you seen enough or do you still have questions?" the shadows spoke to the interviewer with a deep but echoing voice no one else could hear. "I- In some aspects, yes?" they said rather unnerved, barely making out the occasional contrast of darkness against itself.
"Like?" the shadows whispered. "J-just some general information and a couple of personal questions. To know you as an individual…" "And you didn't find any of that information in all the other places you've seen thus far?" he asked. "It's for my own record…" they trailed off, which granted them a reluctant "Sure." from the shadows.
"I'll be going through a quick, general round of questions if you don't mind-" "Sure," they said even more unamused.
"What is your name?" - "I am called Harmond."
"And your age?" - "You know that answer already…" - You're right.. You were somewhere close to halfway or almost 700."
"Do you have any pronouns? Do world beasts have a gender or sex?" - "Does mycelium care about such things? Call me whatever you want, I don't care… except female. I find that insulting."
"Do you- have any kind of occupation or hobby?" - "I'm now just a familiar. Buy a goldfish and ask it the same question. Maybe you'll get a better answer."
The interviewer paused before beginning the more personal questions. "Are you usually in such a dissipated form? It almost seems like you barely exist or you're hardly here," they asked in true curiosity, but the answer they received was more curt. "Did you expect me to completely materialize and appear for your whim?"
The person was a bit taken aback. "I only mean to ask some questions. It's just an interview with no one else but us. You can trust me." "And I'm just a monster according to your rules of justice and morals. I am to be killed, my death was celebrated across infinite lands, and now your kind expect me to trust because you tell me what you think is good?" The shadows wavered and flickered like a sickening black flame rippling off the body of the creature.
"Do you have regrets? About anything? In your long life…" they asked, the shadows whispered back. "Only as many regrets that you have for what you eat for breakfast each morning."
Q: "You were born here, yet immediately confined to these grounds. Do you consider it your home? Have you ever?"
"A very long time ago." The shadows slowly soothed down, solidifying their silhouette. "It stopped being my home when I was no longer welcome."
The person paused for a moment before tentatively asking. "And when was that?"
"When they left me to die."
Q: "What do you think about loyalty? To factions, kingdoms, a cause or-"
They didn't finish the rest of the question because the rest didn't need to be said. "Loyalty is something that things with shorter lifespans, like yourself, cling to; justify all you do. Regardless of how much you claim loyalty, you all would have done the same regardless. Loyalty is just the virtue of your own ego."
Q: "What do you think of culture, parties, or festivals?"
"I hate them. Most of them are built on excuses just to throw what you have in lavishness and excess. Parade what more you have that others don't." The interviewer tried to turn to the shadowed form, but it would only wisp just out of their sight. "So, have you been to them before?" "I've only personally attended a few. To celebrate my death. To welcome any and all to yet another trap. And to make a spectacle of death."
The interviewer had a small understanding of how much time 700 years could truly feel like.
Q: "What mask do you wear for others?"
"And what kind of answer are you looking for with a question like that?" the shadows asked with apprehension, swirling the world of darkness around them while they walked in disorientating patterns.
"What i mean to ask is, what don't you tell anyone. I am only asking for my own account." They waited for quite some time in silence, one foot infront of the other, the shadows shifting ever incessantly that they stumbled every now and then.
"Loneliness," the shadows whispered softly. "There is nothing as terrifying as knowing that there is no one else like you, even when you're called the same kind as other beasts. No one is like you or will ever be like you, and the only person you'll have to turn to is yourself."
"What about other world beasts that also have speech and self-awareness, like yourself?" They asked, but the shadows stopped swaying. Turning to a nearby wall, there was no wolven shape, no bloody red eyes staring back, and no voice whispered for them.
They looked for more signs of Harmond's presence. Eventually, a bucket of unknown but foul-smelling fluids was tossed on them from a gruff-looking shop owner. "Get outta here, you drunk. You'll scare off any customers with your muttering and stumbling around here."
They didn't need to be told twice. They had seemingly been walking by themself, talking to themselves, this whole time. They did look like a drunk with the way they've stumbled about, so no one would believe them if they tried sharing their talk with the world beast, not like they wanted to.
That was probably intentional.