Despite telling himself he'd sit back and let the Knight work, he can't help himself - he tries to read every word as it's written, upside-down, from across the desk.
Long fallen, he repeats to himself mentally. But you must have done something, you cryptic old-!
He flinches at the Hollow Knight's sudden twitch and it shakes him out of his thoughts enough to continue to the next line. He harmlessly baps the Knight's wrist up and off the desk with the tips of his fingers, then idly rubs at the ink with his wrist without looking away from the parchment. It smears into the surface and dries, but by the look of the desk already, Lemm isn't fussy as long as it's not going to stain anything he puts on it.
"Hmph. Well, no one said a knight ought to have good calligraphy..."
He slides the paper back towards himself with his other hand and twirls it around to read it the right way up. His eyes slide along the ink trail and off the page this time and he raises his wrist, examining it like he's only just noticed the smudge. He looks up.
"...That is... You're not wrong," he says before he can think himself out of it, before he can put the pieces together in a way that will give him some emotional awareness. "I suppose the City was always built to last, while the society that occupied it was not. But," he continues, withdrawing his hand and shaking it lightly to dry the ink on his wrist, "I've pried enough knowledge from husks and wanderers to know that decay didn't happen overnight. Something got stuck in the gears of fate along the way and I'd wager good Geo on it being your nai..."
He realises he's wrong even before his eyes flick to the missing arm, then the torso, then back up to the cracked mask.
Lemm studies them anew, this time watching for emotion.
"...You. I'd wager it was you."
It occurs to Lemm, very belatedly, that he may be being a tad insensitive.
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syntheid
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Date: 2020-08-25 05:06 pm (UTC)Long fallen, he repeats to himself mentally. But you must have done something, you cryptic old-!
He flinches at the Hollow Knight's sudden twitch and it shakes him out of his thoughts enough to continue to the next line. He harmlessly baps the Knight's wrist up and off the desk with the tips of his fingers, then idly rubs at the ink with his wrist without looking away from the parchment. It smears into the surface and dries, but by the look of the desk already, Lemm isn't fussy as long as it's not going to stain anything he puts on it.
"Hmph. Well, no one said a knight ought to have good calligraphy..."
He slides the paper back towards himself with his other hand and twirls it around to read it the right way up. His eyes slide along the ink trail and off the page this time and he raises his wrist, examining it like he's only just noticed the smudge. He looks up.
"...That is... You're not wrong," he says before he can think himself out of it, before he can put the pieces together in a way that will give him some emotional awareness. "I suppose the City was always built to last, while the society that occupied it was not. But," he continues, withdrawing his hand and shaking it lightly to dry the ink on his wrist, "I've pried enough knowledge from husks and wanderers to know that decay didn't happen overnight. Something got stuck in the gears of fate along the way and I'd wager good Geo on it being your nai..."
He realises he's wrong even before his eyes flick to the missing arm, then the torso, then back up to the cracked mask.
Lemm studies them anew, this time watching for emotion.
"...You. I'd wager it was you."
It occurs to Lemm, very belatedly, that he may be being a tad insensitive.