there's so many things that you'll never understand

[impure_void]

 


 

 





 

MEMORIAL TO THE
HOLLOW KNIGHT
------------------------
In the Black Vault far above.
Through its sacrifice Hallownest lasts eternal.

There's a figure at the base of the fountain, bent double, yet still taller than most bugs that once wandered these streets.

The Hollow Knight was sealed before it was raised in the center of the City. In all their glimpses of the world through Infected eyes, they had never seen this--this figure of themselves, towering high above the Dreamers that protected them, sacrificed everything for them, only differentiated by the carving of each mask.

This should not matter.

The emotion that is their flaw screams it does. Why--?

--This figure of them should not have ever been here. The Pale King prioritized their image above the living. A memorial to a thing. A memorial to a failure, still standing tall, lie inscribed for the straggling remains to see.

They should not wonder why. They should not feel the wound in their chest throbbing with new pain. Do not think, do not feel, do not do not do not--

Gendered Child, sister, told them they may go, and they have gone. 

And they are here, beneath the shadow of a false Purity, beneath pounding rain in an empty City. 

Nothing about this spurs them to move. Their mask presses flat against fountain's base, hard enough to ache.

They empty their mind, and wait.

Comments

[capitalcurator]

When there's a puzzle he can't solve (which is more often than he'd like) and when there's no one in his shop (which is more often than not, and he likes that very much), Lemm goes to the Memorial.

It's not because he expects to find answers there, exactly. Fountains can't talk. But this one does remind him why he's here, because even if no answers have been particularly forthcoming about the memorial either, he can't look up at it and not wonder.

It's an excellent reminder that no one can just switch off their curiosity, however frustrating transcribing a badly-damaged journal may be. Which he will return to, and complete. He just needs ten minutes - and the ambient sound of the fountain, and apparently a crick in his neck from staring upwards at a statue he doesn't understand. That usually does the trick, for reasons unknown to bug nor beast.

Except Lemm has already forgotten about the journal, because there is someone here already, and they look like they might be very tall if they weren't curled right over like they're dying.

Lemm has not seen any Infected in a little while, but he is not so foolish as to let down his guard, and he almost turns right back around and leaves the strange scene to play out by itself.

Almost.

Because those horns.

Lemm freezes for a solid minute at the edge of the square, grappling with a fair few self-preservation mantras that have kept him alive and well in the City of Tears for this long, and finally he curses that damned curiosity and moves forwards. Nice and casual. No reason for either of them to alarm each other with sudden movements. He keeps a sharp eye out for signs of any orange glow, stops at what he hopes is a safe distance away, and manages to wrangle up a bit of courage.

"Paying respects?" he asks bluntly, probing for any kind of a reaction. His voice always sounds too loud out here, and he braces. He's not a great runner, but his shop isn't far and the door locks well enough.

Perhaps, he thinks doubtfully, they're related. Distantly. Somehow. That information is worth a little risk.

[impure_void]

They do not startle, though the voice comes from their blind side. A voice, strange to hear at all after so long, cutting through the rain better than the great, blunted Nail resting on the ground, partially submerged in a puddle.

They must turn their head far after they lift it to observe who speaks: a bug with a great horn branching to two, and a beard to the ground, unlike any they can currently recall seeing. Face-to-face level. There is no need to rise further. (Unless attacked. Sister's work will be undone if they do not defend. They have wasted enough of her time.)

Then the voice's words register. The question, which they cannot--should not--cannot--both cannot and should not answer.

There is no reason to be here, truly. There is no reason to not be here.

They're looking back to the Fountain again, staring at the trio of faces beneath their own.

They should be. This is the closest thing the Dreamers have to a shrine, now. But it is wrong. It is...disrespectful, to do so here, coming from the shambles of the Hollow Knight most of all.

[capitalcurator]

Just like with the little ghost that creeps into his shop now and again, Lemm is not deterred by silence. When they turn, that tells Lemm three things: one, that this bug (bug?) is responsive and has certainly heard him, and two, that they are probably not infected. Three...

Three, they are almost identical to that statue.

All of this only emboldens him, but none more than the third. One might think Lemm of all bugs would understand when someone needed time alone, but unfortunately for Hollow, Relic Seeker Lemm has far more questions than social awareness.

"I'd know if I'd seen you in the City before," he says, somewhat ironically, "but since I haven't, I'll tell you to mind yourself. There's a myriad of stuck doors and open sewers, and I won't be rescuing anybody."

He steps forwards, closes the distance, and comes to a halt beside the stranger with a comfortable space between them. He peers at Hollow for a moment, eager to note the differences between this face and the carved stone above them, and then turns his attention back up to the statues.

Lemm stands in peacable silence for a short while. But only a short while.

"You've a stunning likeness to the Knight up there," he prompts hopefully. Hint, hint. "I'm the leading historian on Hallownest. If you know anything about this memorial, the information is better off with me."

There are dots to be connected here, but a good Relic Seeker never assumes, and it's never safe to think correlation is the same thing as fact. Maybe this stranger knows nothing, and their likeness is just a coincidence. (He doubts that very much.)

[impure_void]

Fortunately, the Hollow Knight knows little about social awareness or rules outside of the White Palace.

Unfortunately, they also know less about...answering direct questions, let alone dropped hints.

They do listen to what's told. The doors will unlikely be a problem--they hold no reason to enter any of the buildings over ghosting through the streets to whatever lies beyond. They will keep an eye on the ground to step over open sewers and grates. No rescue is expected if they err, from this bug or any other.

The statue that is meant to be them in their prime is a terrible falsehood. While their horns and mask are shaped the same, a crack that won't heal spreads down to their eye. Their current cloak is hardly the fancy thing with armored shoulders at the top (this, too, was unlike reality even at the time: there are no loops for the chains to hoist and hold them in the Egg), and the ruins of their chest are shattered, healed over with only a thin layer of Void for now.

And, of course, only the single remaining arm, which they presently use to lever their body up to a kneel rather than a full-on collapse. They cannot ignore being addressed outright, aiming to face him fully, though their stare goes somewhere over this historian's shoulder.

...Historian. One that studies the past. Hallownest is clearly in ruins. Has it b--?

--it must have been longer than they were capable of noticing.

[capitalcurator]

This stranger-yet-not-quite-a-stranger is about as forthcoming as an Arcane Egg, but Lemm is a stubborn old coot.

"Ah! Now you're listening, which means you do know a thing or two."

It doesn't, necessarily, but it's an in.

Lemm's gaze wanders unabashedly over the stranger's appearance. He has an eye for detail, and there's a lot he's just learned in a few seconds. The more he looks, the more his mind is buzzing with possible explanations for just what might be going on here. (Down! Down with them. Never assume to know something. Stop that.)

"You look like you've been dragged through a thorn bush," he declares bluntly, interrupting his own thoughts. Either he takes the lead, or he'll lose his chance. "If the damp's no good for me, it's no good for you either. I've no interest in idle chitchat, but there are things I'd like to know and I suspect you have answers. So, trade for trade. Humour my questions and sit down somewhere dry for a while. Or stay out here and be wet and miserable."

He half-turns and dips his head in the direction of his shop. He's never made a habit of inviting people over, and he's mildly aware of how clumsy he is at it now.

[impure_void]

Is that--?

--they hadn't known turning to look counted as an answer within itself. Movement isn't something they can take back, particularly when their stare is drawn back to the fountain attempting to look away. Besides, if looking towards is an agreement, looking away can only be denial, and that's still an answer all the same.

Being--seeming to be--Hollow was once simple. It seems that's been eroded away with everything else.

They defer to his knowledge; while he is unlikely to have any of Void, they also know little about the danger of dampness. If it is 'no good' then they have no other order to contradict this one, nor is there reason to leave him to wait out in what could be a threat.

The questions...

Later. This will be a problem later. Do not think.

They take their Nail, sinking its point between cracked stone, and heave their body into standing. (Another stark difference: the statue;s posture is perfect, and this living figure is hunched, taking off nearly a quarter of their own height.)

[capitalcurator]

There. That wasn't so hard, Lemm, now was it? Ask and ye shall receive.

They are so tall. Or they should be. And their body is the right shape, even if it's crooked. Despite the few differences, he knows - he thinks - that it's possible... likely? Possible that they're related. (The same?) Related! Tangientially!

He stomps down his growing excitement in favour of taking a cautious step towards home, and watches carefully to make sure he wasn't mistaken and that they are indeed following him. He'll fall into step just a little bit ahead, enough to lead and keep an eye on them at the same time.

...Is this an awkward silence, or a comfortable one? He should probably say something.

"I'll ask you not to touch anything. There's your warning. The Relic Seeking business never pretended to be anything but messy, and I don't see why I should have to pretend either - but that doesn't mean I want everyone's grimy prints all over my collection."

It's... kind of conversational. He's never been too fixed on what that ought to sound like.

[impure_void]

Their lengthy legs allow them to match the set pace with ease. Their Nail thunks against the ground with every step, the only sound they make.

Do not touch. A straightforward command. It's relie--it's the first they've gotten in a while, though he tacks on an explanation that isn't necessary.

It was more than shame that kept them from entering the City's buildings. The doorways, and moreso, the elevators were not built to accommodate one of their size. But a Vessel is not meant to be discouraged, and there has not yet been a true request for poise; they simply kneel and shuffle forward to fit.

[sweeping gesture] behold the junk hoard

[capitalcurator]

Lemm's only pause during the walk to the lift is to make sure Hollow isn't about to fall or jump down into the Waterways as they pass the open hole in the street. Wouldn't do to lose his potential answers to the sewers, and he's already made it quite clear he is not going out of his way to fish them out.

Lemm stops on the elevator only long enough for Hollow to step aboard. Then he gives the switch a hefty kick, like he's half-expecting the thing to jam.

"Tall, aren't you," he states, with no sign of this being an actual question, and even less sympathy. He says nothing else - just waits for the elevator to stop and steps off, taking out a key that might well have been hidden in his beard. "Watch your head." A beat. "And your nail."

Lemm enters first, because after-yous have no place in his shop and also because he has to pick up a couple of journals that have slipped onto the floor from their haphazard pile.

it's being beheld, sort of

[impure_void]

A factual comment should not bother a Pure Vessel--though they are not one, they resist the urge to shrink down further.

Ducking their horns and crawling in to fit is easiest. They must leave their nail outside, too long for this small room.

Their claws fix into their cloak at the lack of it being within instant reach.

The Hollow Knight's eye alights on the pile of journals nearest to the door. Words half-understood swim over the surfaces. They direct their stare out the distant window, or try, before looking back at just how many there are.

The order is comprehended more clearly, now, as they could bring the entire thing down with a bump. When it seems Lemm isn't looking, they edge away from the pile.

[capitalcurator]

When he's... more or less tidied the journals into a steadier heap, he shuffles behind his desk - and as he turns he's mildly embarrassed by how little space there is in here for someone of Hollow's size. Lemm quickly stuffs this feeling under a general haughtiness: well, if the room is too small, they shouldn't have come in, that isn't his fault. It's also not his fault there's only one chair in this room. Or that the place smells vaguely of dust and drying ink.

"Careful around those," he says, even though he can already see his guest is taking his advice and touching nothing. "I've yet to translate most of them."

Lemm takes out a quill, an ink bottle, and a sheaf of relatively dry parchment he's managed to get hold of, and lays all of these out on the desk. He seats himself and folds his hands conspiratorially on the counter.

"So."

Where to begin? He hesitates, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"It wouldn't be a coincidence I found the Hollow Knight's identical twin right in front of the memorial, would it?" It's spoken like an accusation, but his expression doesn't match his tone. Lemm looks eager. "I'll warn you not to string me along."

Despite how much that question has been burning him, this is also a test. If his strange guest doesn't speak, which he suspects, then he's about to gauge how they communicate at all.

[impure_void]

Their claws, just barely, flex. If they held their nail, they likely would have begun a block.

They are not supposed to do this. Empty things cannot communicate. They have never done so outside of indicating injuries to sister, and tearing into a scream when She had burned through enough that they finally, utterly, broke.

They've failed. They know they have failed, the kingdom is littered with corpses their error had cost. Nothing should matter about their flaws further coming to light. Particularly not while following a command.

Exposing flaws while attempting to cling to false flawlessness.

This struggle of thought is stretched long as they look vaguely toward the paper on his desk. But, eventually, they release their cloak and point a claw to their own chest. They are the Hollow Knight, not their twin. (Anything like a twin they may have had is buried at the bottom of the world.)

[capitalcurator]

Lemm doesn't know what's going on inside that mind, and he has no reason to think of asking. He's just thrilled to get a response. His heart skips a beat and he bats a hand lightly on his desk, about the most animated he's been.

"Ah-ha!" Easy, there. He clears his throat and quickly folds his hands together again. "Ah, what I meant to say is, I knew it. It's never a good thing to jump to conclusions as a Relic Seeker, but I was right."

He's giddy. Lemm has been wondering about that statue for... it feels like forever. In his excitement he's not picking up on the Hollow Knight's discomfort, not that he was ever very good at noticing subtleties.

"I've been puzzling together Hallownest's history as best I could, but there was always a very large piece missing. And here you are in the shell! Ah, but first things first." He leans forwards a little. "I'm loath to admit - aside from the memorial out there, I barely know a thing. Why don't we start with what you did to earn that plaque?"

Lemm slides a piece of parchment across, and then the ink and quill.

Some dubious part of him warns against getting too excited. This could be a misunderstanding, or they could be lying or delusional. Ugh, he hopes he'll be able to tell.

"Why does Hallownest still stand, Hollow Knight?"

local grumpy uncle meets antique lamp post part ii electric boogaloo

[capitalcurator]

Lemm has never bothered much with perfect timekeeping; in the City of Tears it's useless to think in terms of day and night, and though he suspects in its prime there was a cicadian rhythm to things, nowadays it's just him and his relics and he quite appreciates being able to keep to his own schedule.

But he knows it's been a week, give or take, because he has not stopped thinking about meeting the Hollow Knight since it happened. He very well might have dreamed the whole thing if it wasn't for the punctured cleaning cloth, which - just to prove to himself he isn't losing his grip on reality - now takes up a permanent residence on the shelf behind the ranked badges.

Right now, he is taking a tiny brush to the details on a King's Idol, delicately cleaning out the grooves and edges until it's as pale as the day it was made. Things might as well be as normal as they always have been.

...But they are not. Something has changed since a little while before he met the Hollow Knight, and Lemm is becoming so on edge wishing he knew what that when the elevator activates his hand slips and almost takes a chip out of the idol. Lemm goes very still and fixes his eyes on the corridor through the open door.

[impure_void]

The Hollow Knight's massive mask looms from the dark.

They've returned, in what they--

(do not)

--in what they will soon discover whether it has or has not been an acceptable amount of time, with or without an acceptable array of objects to present.

They had gotten stuck enough that it all may be for naught.

They will hold no disappointment if this is the case.

They're confined to crawling again. Doing so through this building is...more optimal than some of the buildings and tunnels they've traversed; here, little debris can catch their cloak or wounds.

Before they can squirm in through the door, they lurch to a halt, settling their gaze on the Idol in his hand.

So very many symbols of the Pale King are scattered throughout Hallownest, weighing on them from every window and marker and sign, and yet there are so few depictions like this. Of a face.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm's eyes remain pinned on the Hollow Knight as they creep forwards towards his shop. He's about as motionless as the knight's own statue, holding onto the idol like an anchor. As much as he's sure he didn't imagine the whole thing, that doesn't mean he expected to ever see them again.

The moment passes. Lemm carefully sets the King's Idol on the desk and begins fiddling casually with the cleaning brush one-handed, masking his surprise behind a thin veneer of indifference.

"Waiting for me to invite you in?" he asks, though he has a feeling he knows what they're looking at. "The shop's open." He watches them like a hawk.

[impure_void]

Their head follows the King's Idol, unable to tear their eye away until addressed.

Once the Hollow Knight had been left to their mission, it had been--a challenge. They had failed more than once, digging through the remains of ruined lives they were tasked to protect. Paralyzed with grief until they crushed it with their eternal mantra, do not think, do not feel, do not, do not, do not think beyond the perimeters given.

Setbacks. Temporary.

The Idol--along with a living being, seen again--cracks through their hard-won detachment. Their head jerks up, and there is a terrible urge to retreat.

They do not. Leaving their Nail outside, as before, they shuffle into the room. Their hand dips beneath their cloak.

They draw out a journal, setting it on the desk away from the Idol. Another. And another.

Scientific journals, plucked from the Soul Sanctum.

(There had been more. Many more. Only the three were recovered before cowardice and horror overcame them, once they stumbled over the bodies.)

[capitalcurator]

Lemm is worried for a second that they've made a mistake somehow - but he perks up a little as they appear to proceed as if they're just another traveller bringing him things for geo. Business as usual. That's easy enough.

"What have we here?" he says, shifting in his seat and reaching for the first journal - then hesitating with an odd look on his face as the knight pulls out more. There's only one other person he's seen pull things from nowhere quite like that, and something clicks.

And then he catches sight of what's on these journals, and holds one up to the light. There's etched nacreous symbols in some places for emphasis, and he catches the word for soul at least twice just on the one he's holding. His gaze flicks up from the journal to the Hollow Knight, and after a long pause he asks a question he definitely already knows the answer to.

"Where did you get these?"

[impure_void]

They're already reaching for more. Their hand is hidden, so they can't point or write; they lift their head to point straight upward, holding until it strains their neck. Upward, almost directly.

They...are less certain of the next items. When they began in earnest, the Holllow Knight went through the categories of what the Relic Seeker appeared to have the most interest in. The massive pile of Journals by the door, the awards with unusual etchings to communicate their purpose, directly giving them ink to write-- they took, simply, items with writing.

Most silk scrolls are terribly damaged by the rain and dampness, they discovered quickly, but the Pleasure House held the highest luxury, and withstood the fall better than other buildings.

They found four. For the first, they did not read past the first few lines, detailing a noble considering devouring a fellow locked in with him, comparing himself to the horrid beasts of Deepnest. Another is a list of rules relating to the Hot Spring within, and the last two are odd rhymes penned by the Marissa whose poster was nearly the first thing they saw. (They nearly took it. They aren't sure why they did not. They stop thinking about it at all.)

lemm how could you

[capitalcurator]

Lemm stares at the journal without reading it, as if he's just been handed a live aspid. He knows what's up there, more or less - the specifics have escaped him, or rather he's escaped the specifics. Lemm visited exactly one time and after two steps towards the entrance he learned a valuable lesson about curiosity killing the beetle and had no interest in returning, not for all the Hallownest lore in the world.

By the looks of it, he is holding a journal from well within the Sanctum. The Hollow Knight must be mighty indeed.

Lemm's business acumen kicks into hyperdrive. Setting the journal aside with no indication that it's worth its weight in pale ore, he turns to the next couple. Then to the scrolls - and my, but he should be using gloves for these.

"Two," he mutters under his breath, and his hand dances over the buttons on the antique register. "four, six hundred." For Soul Sanctum texts. And he's about to do worse for scripts so well-preserved. This might be blatant shortchanging, if he wasn't the only interested buyer in Hallownest. "And five for the set of silkworks. I'll pay one thousand one hundred geo for all of this." He gestures, and waits expectantly for a response.

[impure_void]

...They'd forgotten this part. Not only retrieval, but trade. Or...selling.

This situation seems incorrect. Bugs behind counters gave items, and the ones that came in gave geo. Unless one was stealing. None stole in the Capital, none but fools, and those fools would be skewered two steps from the door by any Sentry that was tired of listening to the nobles yet wary of causing--

They reel in their mind back to the shop. As backwards as this is, this shop is Lemm's, and they have no reason to question him.

But first, they take another item out.

A chunk of stone, larger than their hand, heavy. The noise it makes hitting the desk makes them twitch.

There's a name scrawled on it, an age, a tiny eulogy. A piece of gravestone from someone who passed long before Hallownest fell. This may be a disrespectful act, but venturing upward to the lowest level of the Resting Grounds left them stumbling over the wreckage of dozens of ruined tombstones and small memorial statues. This was one that was intact enough to decipher, and leaving it...

Well. They did not leave it.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm, for all his scholarly-adjacent wit, has not cracked a great many realisations about the Hollow Knight. To him, the pause and the introduction of a new bargaining chip looks like haggling.

"What's that?" He reaches out with both hands, and it's still heavier than he expects. The thing slides towards him against the table a short distance before he manages to lift it up with a slight grunt. "This isn't..."

He reads.

"...Where'd you find this?" he asks gruffly, and taps a finger against the stone. "Did you break this?"

[impure_void]

They point diagonally out the rainy window, upward and eastward, where the sizable elevator they rode leads to the graveyard.

The Hollow Knight shakes their head sharply. Why--?

--disturbing the resting dead without purpose--

--they would nev--

They shake their head again. In their chest, they find a spark of something that is quickly doused.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm narrows his eyes suspiciously, and it's not because he's suspicious, it's because that expression tends to wring the truth out of someone regardless. Nothing personal. He's not good with people, but he's got a shopkeeper's bluff detection. Lemm nods slowly and studies the eulogy more carefully.

...This is worth little, academically speaking. It's the context that would make this valuable, and as far as he knows this is just someone whose name he's never heard, someone non-famous, unimportant. It's no one.

Lemm keeps his eyes fixed on the grave marker as he thinks about why on earth the Hollow Knight might have picked this up. His thumbs smooth over the writing, brushing some grit from the stonework, and he frowns.

"One thousand, two..." He puts the thing down, rapping the stone loudly against the table, and folds his hands on top of it, fidgeting. Lemm runs a hand through his beard and scratches. "...The rest is one thousand one hundred geo. I ca- won't buy someone's gravestone. It should stay where it was put."

[impure_void]

His stare is returned, albeit with their characteristic nothing.

They did wrong. Not on what they had braced for, but still, wrong. They will adjust their criteria for later. They have some items yet, but the geo is already being offered, and that is meant at the end of exchanges.

The price means nothing to them, with nothing to buy, having never used geo, and without going out of their way to find potential shopkeepers who might want some. They don't react to the offer at all.

Instead, they lift the gravestone.

They should have left it. They should return it to where it was put. But it had been put on the middle of the path, which is not where gravestones should be, either.

They should listen to Lemm. He is speaking straightforwardly as to what to do. They have no right to hesitate.

And yet.

They look down at the stone in their hand. (The paleness of the Idol gleams on the edge of their vision.)

The word beloved stands out. An age that is not old, but not young.