He tries to work. It's difficult to go back to something so mundane, something that has been his everyday since goodness knows when, while the very Hollow Knight themself is in the room. But if there was ever anyone Lemm might not shoo for loitering, it's The Hollow Knight.
Lemm is exceptional at getting engrossed in old texts. This one is a doozy; the author was bold enough to use some borrowed vernacular and spelled it so wrong it took him a day to parse.
It's about by line three of the stone journal that the muttering starts, because by then he's a personally-compiled vocab quick-list and two other references deep in this thing.
"...So we descended," he murmurs irritably. "Now, why? Surely you knew it was a cliff-" Lemm pauses, glances at the other piece of writing on his desk, and compares. "...Fallen," he tries out. "We fell. Ah. Clumsy, not foolish."
Lemm is about to go back to his notes, but the thought does occur to him... Well. There are things they know, and surely not every question can be a disaster. He glances over his shoulder at a particularly disorganised shelf, and the cogs turn.
"Hollow Knight," he starts, casual as you like. "What do you make of those ornaments? Beside the glassware. There." He points. "The medals. Would you award those to guards or nobles?"
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syntheid
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Date: 2020-08-25 08:16 pm (UTC)Lemm is exceptional at getting engrossed in old texts. This one is a doozy; the author was bold enough to use some borrowed vernacular and spelled it so wrong it took him a day to parse.
It's about by line three of the stone journal that the muttering starts, because by then he's a personally-compiled vocab quick-list and two other references deep in this thing.
"...So we descended," he murmurs irritably. "Now, why? Surely you knew it was a cliff-" Lemm pauses, glances at the other piece of writing on his desk, and compares. "...Fallen," he tries out. "We fell. Ah. Clumsy, not foolish."
Lemm is about to go back to his notes, but the thought does occur to him... Well. There are things they know, and surely not every question can be a disaster. He glances over his shoulder at a particularly disorganised shelf, and the cogs turn.
"Hollow Knight," he starts, casual as you like. "What do you make of those ornaments? Beside the glassware. There." He points. "The medals. Would you award those to guards or nobles?"