Movement slow, as though their mask is twice the weight than just moments earlier, their head shifts from a stare at their hand to instead do so at the cushion. Then it twitches up to look to Relic Seeker Lemm.

They do not need it.

It is being offered.

They should hold no care either way, and still their shell crawls with sensation they have come to know only recently.

It does not matter.

From kneeling to shifting, their full weight, hip-first, tilts onto the cushion 'til they're sitting on it sideways, legs curling like the dead until they fit in a way that should leave their gifted cloak from being further strained. The hardest-shelled of spiders do not have the pointed joints a grown Vessel does.

They turn their mask back up at him.

It should not matter. He does not want such things.

It is not the same to them.

They lived enough of a falsehood that one more should be of little import.

Perhaps that is why--

The Hollow Knight is, once again, motionless.