It's been too long since he set out to do this by himself instead of just kicking around the shop. First it was the rise of the Infection - he'd only managed preliminary exploration before he found his place in the city, and after that he'd only gotten a couple of really in-depth excursions in before everything went so quickly downhill.
After that, it had been under perceived duress. It took him a while to fully understand why someone else might not want him to wander, but he held it to himself as a rule in the interim, just to avoid upset - and then understand he finally, suddenly did.
So. He stays within the city, because there are rules now that he has established for himself and he mostly sticks to. And he is quick, a dip-in and dip-out, because there is the chance that he might miss something.
Lemm quickly sweeps the halls of the Soul Sanctum, and he returns with his arms weighed down with stone journals and miscellaneous, much of him frizzed from the faint but still-ambient saturation of Soul in the air. He half-reads about a few things that he can never hope to replicate, and does not wish to.
Lemm deposits what he finds at home (as an excuse to go back and check) and as strong as the temptation is to route his way upward and check Dirtmouth just in case, Lemm stays close to his shop, where he is - logically - expected to be.
He visits the spring - rather, the spa, and rids the last of the faint, barely-there smudges of ink from his beard that only he might know well enough to notice, and tries not to think about it too dramatically. He catches a misfortunate neighbour on his way out and asks if she has seen anyone pass through the City.
No. This is a relief for one reason, and disappointing for another. They both end the conversation disdainfully. (That is pleasantly normal.)
Lemm pauses on the way out. He looks back, and his footsteps falter, and he goes to stand quietly in the auditorium for a while.
He hears nothing. He leaves, feeling strangely guilty for reasons he can't place.
His mood under a damp blanket that has little to do with the City of Tears itself, Lemm occupies himself in small, nearby ways and plays an uncomfortable waiting game. He can focus on little else.
no subject
It's been too long since he set out to do this by himself instead of just kicking around the shop. First it was the rise of the Infection - he'd only managed preliminary exploration before he found his place in the city, and after that he'd only gotten a couple of really in-depth excursions in before everything went so quickly downhill.
After that, it had been under perceived duress. It took him a while to fully understand why someone else might not want him to wander, but he held it to himself as a rule in the interim, just to avoid upset - and then understand he finally, suddenly did.
So. He stays within the city, because there are rules now that he has established for himself and he mostly sticks to. And he is quick, a dip-in and dip-out, because there is the chance that he might miss something.
Lemm quickly sweeps the halls of the Soul Sanctum, and he returns with his arms weighed down with stone journals and miscellaneous, much of him frizzed from the faint but still-ambient saturation of Soul in the air. He half-reads about a few things that he can never hope to replicate, and does not wish to.
Lemm deposits what he finds at home (as an excuse to go back and check) and as strong as the temptation is to route his way upward and check Dirtmouth just in case, Lemm stays close to his shop, where he is - logically - expected to be.
He visits the spring - rather, the spa, and rids the last of the faint, barely-there smudges of ink from his beard that only he might know well enough to notice, and tries not to think about it too dramatically. He catches a misfortunate neighbour on his way out and asks if she has seen anyone pass through the City.
No. This is a relief for one reason, and disappointing for another. They both end the conversation disdainfully. (That is pleasantly normal.)
Lemm pauses on the way out. He looks back, and his footsteps falter, and he goes to stand quietly in the auditorium for a while.
He hears nothing. He leaves, feeling strangely guilty for reasons he can't place.
His mood under a damp blanket that has little to do with the City of Tears itself, Lemm occupies himself in small, nearby ways and plays an uncomfortable waiting game. He can focus on little else.