Lemm writes fewer labels and draws fewer pictures. Some things aren't relevant to him; others he can't make out and doesn't see fit to bother including. Some places he's already been, though most of his sightseeing took place from behind cover as he waited for the locals to wander out of his way.
He ends up with more than a couple of smudges (it's haste, his fault for not finding the Fungal Wastes particularly riveting). But time flies when you're thinking about a project, and it isn't long before Lemm checks for empty space and finds none remaining.
The Knight has apparently been everywhere in Hallownest, and it isn't a jump to realise this likely happened at the height of the Infection. He's not envious of the effort that must have taken.
The map complete, Lemm sets it on a shelf to finish drying, arranges notes and relics around his desk, and makes additions to the timeline. Then he sets down a fresh, blank stack of paper and begins to write. There is no shorthand, though there's lots of crossings-out and arrows and edits.
It is the verbose, clinical, and terribly over-explained first draft of a historic record with the assumption the reader may know absolutely nothing to begin with. It starts with a lengthy introduction to Hallownest as it stands, and then meanders backwards and forwards. It's going to be long.
...Despite his emotional involvement in the retelling, it has been a lengthy amount of time since Lemm actually took a break from all this. He gets about eight pages in before he starts yawning.
no subject
He ends up with more than a couple of smudges (it's haste, his fault for not finding the Fungal Wastes particularly riveting). But time flies when you're thinking about a project, and it isn't long before Lemm checks for empty space and finds none remaining.
The Knight has apparently been everywhere in Hallownest, and it isn't a jump to realise this likely happened at the height of the Infection. He's not envious of the effort that must have taken.
The map complete, Lemm sets it on a shelf to finish drying, arranges notes and relics around his desk, and makes additions to the timeline. Then he sets down a fresh, blank stack of paper and begins to write. There is no shorthand, though there's lots of crossings-out and arrows and edits.
It is the verbose, clinical, and terribly over-explained first draft of a historic record with the assumption the reader may know absolutely nothing to begin with. It starts with a lengthy introduction to Hallownest as it stands, and then meanders backwards and forwards. It's going to be long.
...Despite his emotional involvement in the retelling, it has been a lengthy amount of time since Lemm actually took a break from all this. He gets about eight pages in before he starts yawning.