boxfullofzeroes | voicetest the voiceless

voicetest the voiceless

They're not dead.

Less dead than they'd felt, at least. Their shell doesn't normally take so long to reform.

Then again. Their shell doesn't usually break of their own violation as they ascended in a boiling rage, ate at least one realm, a god, and all the Godseekers.

(That last point is debatable, actually. There's some odd sense, deep under their...shell? Void? Wherever they once stored things like Isma's Tear, much deeper now...that the sea-mind is still there, sluggish and held in a stasis. They're already adjusting enough, and they don't seem to be dying or trying to kill them, so that problem is neatly sorted as 'for later'.)

They push their body to stand. Their horn clangs uncomfortably loudly against the grate they've apparently woken up beneath. They're somewhere in the Royal Waterways. A quick check of the map--or, not so quick, as it takes time to locate where it had been--shows they've risen about halfway through, closer to the City of Tears than the White Palace. They'll go to the Stag Station in the City Storerooms next.

So they think. Complications arise on the way.

The Infection is gone, leaving dead Flukes, Pilflips, and Hwurmps in piles enough it takes time to force their way past. Their body seems too small. No, their body is fine--there's something wrong with perception itself. That will take time to adjust to.

Then, they discover the Monarch Wings now stretch and warp when used, twisting around the nearest pipes after landing before the Knight forcibly calls them back. Shade Wings, they decide to call these.

Once they're high enough to hear the rain above, they realize a noise they'd ascribed to water running in the distance is, in fact, something swirling behind their mask. Many somethings. All the fragments of Siblings with enough self left, staring out from their eyes. It's disconcerting.

By the time they actually get out of the Waterways, they're using their Shade Wings to grip ledges and drag themselves up, with those holding onto things better than their own arms are with the Mantis Claw.

The Knight faceplants awkwardly onto the floor of the building Lemm's shop is in. If the City is the same as below, there's little left to try killing them in the area.

They'll just take a moment here, thanks.

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Normally one might say of a dark, claustrophobic place that the air is clinging. It does not cling here. Nothing does. (And it clings.)

He shudders involuntarily, and he knows the Knight can feel it. He does not let go.

Lemm also does not turn back. There is too much gravity to this, and he has too many questions. For a moment or two he looks around, horns tilting this way and that, but the realisation sinks in quickly that there's no point in looking. There is just the soft glow beneath the Knight's feet, and the Void, and Lemm in the middle of it all. He might as well not be here.

He feels like he isn't. It's terrifying.

The Knight might be agitated to know that the feeling that rises in Lemm's chest is excitement, so maybe it's best they don't.

...He says nothing. But he gives the Knight's hand a small squeeze.

Nervous, possibly. Outright panicking or becoming terribly ill doesn't seem to be on the table.

The squeeze is taken as confirmation. They nod. After a hesitation, as it's not needed (but they want to), squeeze back before they begin leading him onward.

(When they return the squeeze, his thumb covers the back of their paw, just to hold on more comfortably. That's all.)

Lemm is quick to move when they do, falling into pace easily enough. He instinctively sticks close, keeping inches from their side and just a half step behind theirs. He can't see the floor unless it's lit by the white under the Knight's footsteps, so it's best to stick like glue.

The first time a spell-monolith looms out of the dark, Lemm flinches - but it's not long before he's peering up at the light in profound interest.

As they pass by the subtle glint of chains and the broken edges of more Arcane substance, Lemm is even less eager to say anything. The initial rush of Relic Seeker's eagerness for understanding is fading fast, and it leaves behind a cold, unpleasant feeling in his core.

Parts of the pieces light up at the Knight's approach. Lemm does not try to parse them - just by looking he knows he can't. He'd need to study them, and he knows this must be too short a visit.

When he catches the faint outline of a doorway in the dark, Lemm slows, pulls the Knight slower with him, and peers down pointedly. Whether this is safe, whether they want to or not - it's up to them, and it suddenly feels important to check in.

They're interested to later learn what he might think of the glowing shapes in the dark. Related to the Pale King, obviously. Made of the same spell as Seal outside and hidden in Deepnest with significantly different shape. They don't stray from the path to try touching.

They look back up and tip their head to confirm--yes, they can go on. They knew they would be as soon as they offered. The center of the Egg is a place that...well, did haunt their nightmares, in truth. A place that they caught a glimpse of when their sibling broke.

But for the Knight, that was unease. They can handle unease, no matter how deep it might go. The victim locked away inside is no longer.

They first lead him to the egg-within-an-Egg to pause for Lemm's eye, steadfastly ignoring the Pale King's whispers crawling out at them from the tablet.

He slows to a halt along with the Knight, and he looks. He looks long and hard.

There are - well, first of all, he is squinting at the jagged shell as if he's doing complicated mathematics, so this is obvious - there are a lot of pieces being shifted around in his mind. Similarity does not equal likeness and comparing one unrelated relic to another just because it's shaped the same is a fast track to silly mistakes and vital misunderstandings of which pieces of history are tied.

But there is no room for error here. It is an Egg, it is Arcane in nature, it is in pieces here in the heart of the Kingdom's past and Lemm knows there must be a reason. The Pale King knew more about Void than anyone. Than anyone.

He does not know why he's seething, suddenly. But this time Lemm is the first to start moving; he takes a step, ensures the Knight is agreed in it, and will move on.

The whispers already gave them what it had. They wonder what Lemm might be getting, or more likely hearing, with how displeased he appears.

He tugs them onward, and they move without hesitation.

The glow and smell of sickly-sweet rot isn't present, and yet there's a sense it should be. It may be Dream, lingering. More likely it's their own imagination. Their unoccupied hand reaches back to grasp the hilt of their Nail regardless.

The chains increase going forward. Inside, more and more.

They suspect the floor might've been completely black at the start. They can't know more than that the Pure Vessel's battleground in Godhome was. Now, it's all a tarnished shade of brown.

Only after do they spot a particular set of chain hanging high above, catching the eye by the dangling half-pauldron and ragged cloak it's still tangled around.

Lemm moves on with a kind of dogged determination. He does not move with any haste and not with much confidence any more either, but he moves. This may be above him, but... it can't be above him. He won't let it be above him. And the Knight wanted him to kn- to record.

He stands in the deepest chamber of the Black Egg Temple and he stares at its contents, evaluating and tying threads together and drawn, darkly, to the chains that held the Hollow Knight.

The loose lumafly bulb does little to illuminate anything in here, but he holds it tight in his free hand and gestures silently with it as he looks down at the Knight and knocks his bag implicitly with the light, and his fingers loosen around their hand. Can he study, or will letting go be a bad move?

Edited 2022-11-24 00:15 (UTC)

A claw taps his hand twice in attempted warning before they carefully unfurl a fraction of Shade Wing, temporarily wrapping a single tendril around his leg.

It's only then they feel save enough to let go of his hand and set their paw on his upper leg and release. His hands need free rein, but no, they do not want to risk letting the dark crash down around him for even a moment.

Lemm is getting familiar with Void, or at least with their way of expressing it, every time he's witness. The coil around his leg is strange and unsensory. Lemm's foot lifts in mild shock, like anyone who steps on something unexpected.

With the Knight's pat of reassurance his uncertainty loosens and he lets his foot lower gently back onto the floor. Lemm holds the light up and strays. Convinced, he lets himself slip into the mindset of his work.

He takes measurements of sorts. First is a pace from one side to the other, an estimation of the size of the room, useless by itself, but then it goes on. There are scratches on the floor, Nail bites, skirmish-worn, marked by the same light-rust, that Lemm compares to what he knows. The chains are clean but for a final break; there was no physical sawing or elongated struggle. They jingle very softly under his examination like wind chimes. The loop of metal that still holds a pauldron to the chain is examined at thoughtful length.

Lemm steps back. He thinks. And he stills, finished, staring up at the chains like they both stared at the open doorway just prior.

Edited 2022-11-24 00:58 (UTC)

The Knight keeps pace, careful not to trip. There are odd protrusions they grip Lemm's leg a moment to observe before realizing what he may have already: they're anchorpoints, for more chains.

They match his gaze to the ragged pauldron and cloak above. It's naturally as filthy as their sibling's wings had been the first time they'd found them outside of Dream.

Simply put, a quietly depressing sight. But the one attached to it is still alive. Healing. This is another cold and cruel monument that doesn't matter anymore.

The anchorpoints are examined when the Knight's own interest draws him to them. Lemm is not a shaman; it is the physical bindings that he can make the most sense of, though all of it will be going in the records as best he can manage. When he straightens up from looking, Lemm gives the Knight an approving nod for drawing his notice to another detail.

The moment standing and looking up at those chains feels... too long. Even with the Knight's protection Lemm knows it isn't a place he should be in.

Nor should the Knight, he decides.

Lemm angles his head to gesture with a dip of his horns at the exit. The back of his hand lightly nudges their shoulder, in case they don't notice the way he holds it out for them to take. (For safety. To help maintain contact and make it easier to do - whatever they're doing.)

The right move, lightly jolting them from their intense stare upward.

They repeat the step of using tendril to anchor before reaching up to grasp his hand properly, letting the leg go. They're too small to risk not keeping something as a point of contact for something with such potential danger. This time it shouldn't be quite as startling, they hope.

He's allowed to choose their pace. Not that he hadn't been on the way in, but they're tired in an oddly physical way. A rare sensation.

His reaction is less, this time - he just stiffens, and waits for the switch-over. When their hand settles in his he wastes no more time in this room, immediately turning to leave.

The pace he sets is not particularly brisk. Even with his innate lack of decorum Lemm feels like it'd be wrong to rush in here. (Never mind that he now knows there was plenty of rushing - there was a hell of a fight, and that's no mistake. That was then.)

Lemm knows logically that the way in must have been this long, though it doesn't feel like it. The light in his hand didn't illuminate much then and it still doesn't, but he finds himself eyeing the lumafly instead of looking out at the dark.

With Lemm's eye on the lantern instead of the spellwork, it does go a little faster. The Knight suspects as much, at least. It's hard to tell in the dark.

Once they're out, the presence of the Knight sinks itself back into their body's form. The Void crashes into itself behind them, and they let go of Lemm to swing their blade on instinct--but it's only air, in the end, blasting a wild breeze through the Temple.

Edited 2022-11-24 09:16 (UTC)

Stepping out into the light feels like walking out from under a heavy blanket. Lemm feels himself un-tense; he didn't realise he was tense in the first place. The resulting sigh sounds too loud. Everything does. It was too easy not to notice how deathly silent it was in the Egg.

The Knight's sudden movement makes him jump, and Lemm snaps back to look, too - but there is just the Knight and the dark of the passage behind them.

"Aye, don't spook yourself." It sounds chastising as usual, but it's accompanied by a second part that doesn't: "Come outside, Knight. There's nothing left to see."

Lemm will wait for them; they'll leave the Temple together. There'd be something wrong about walking away first.

The Knight shows agreement by moving forward.

The outside of the Temple is just as it was. There's no reason it wouldn't be.

There's no reason they should be feeling like this, either. They have no injury, and as upset as they were before, the knowledge of their Sibling's place is a true reassurance. For the first time since uniting as the Lord of Shades, they take a moment outside the Temple to Focus before going to the mysterious Monomon-masked archway.

It does help somewhat. Irritating, that they're having this problem at all.

Without thinking about it, Lemm falls into step at the Knight's side much more naturally than he did when they were on their way here. When they pause and Focus, Lemm pauses with them without thinking about it, and moves when they do. It isn't consciously done.

"I don't know what that took," he says uncertainly, "but maybe you should take a minute. S'a strange atmosphere in there. Knocks a bug sick." He knows it's not the same for the Knight, for Void, but that's hardly the point. He can see them faltering. Because he is watching for it. Closely.

Lemm has never thought that caring about anyone else came naturally. If he thought about it now, he would probably fall out of tempo very quickly. He is thinking about too much else for that.

They consider telling him they can't exactly get sick. With how the last time he used it as excuse to calm them--and it leading to something more positive...

...they decide against it.

To return Lemm's words, they point deliberately at him. Is he alright after what he's experienced? What he's seen?

True to form, Lemm completely misinterprets their concern when it's reflected back at him.

"Yes, I got what I wanted," he answers lightly. "Every little lie the King told is going in the record, I can promise you that. I'll need to write in the bindings if you want anyone to understand the full truth, but I'll make no mention of what happened to the Vessel after."

He shrugs, comfortable with this part even if it feels a little like obfuscation.

"As far as I'm concerned, I arrived long after they disappeared from that place, and found it empty. No need for me to add anything else I might know." Lemm tilts his head. "Acceptable enough?"

It's not what they were asking while being answer enough. Clear excitement at chipping away at the Pale King's failures probably isn't covering too much stress or illness. A nod; entirely acceptable.

Greenhorn prods them. Not yet. Just a little longer. The Knight needs to work on whatever their apparent problem is.

For that, they point for them and Lemm both through the arch, to where the distant line of Dirtmouth's own chain dangles. A rest at a bench should be enough to fix whatever's bothering them.

Lemm follows with his gaze where they're pointing.

"Ah. Yes." He stiffly busies himself with putting the lumafly bulb back in his bag and jogging the thing more comfortably against his shoulder, mainly so that he doesn't have to look up. "I'll be making my way back below, I think. Things to write down, make sense of. Um. Good work today."

He takes a step away from the arch, patting his bag closed with finality.

What.

The Knight pivots to stare before tugging out their paper.

Alright, but I only need a few minutes up there if you could wait. Greenhorn would like your perspective on the way back.

Lemm is not glaring. He's not. It's called resting indifference face and it is a real thing and the Knight has it too, so there.

Eventually he makes a low noise like a metal support creaking, and very reluctantly trudges forward.

He'll wait at the bottom of the well. This is his only concession!

It is a glare and the Knight meets it with their usual face, unable to express their hefty confusion.

They won't push, though they wonder if he truly dislikes Elderbug's lack of courage that much. It's not the strangest thing to despise, objectively. It's not as though he has to go interact for knowledge--unless he does, and is saving it for later.

They offer a nod before darting up the chain.

...And stopping most of the way up. The body in the alcove is, of course, still there.

They can take it up now. If they do, there will probably be questions. Or at least very obvious concerns. Lemm is their priority now. They'll bring this one home later. Soon. Soon, they silently promise.

Then they're fluttering up to Dirtmouth, to do as they wanted and rest on the bench.

They manage that much before Elderbug distracts them about their house. (Their house. Dirtmouth is not the only place they've owned property on. It is the only time they've had one offered with no strings or debts in either direction attached.) He says he's fixed it up, which confuses them until he admits it wasn't much. He got Iselda to tarp over the window and he swept it out a little.

They do a lot of nodding. He figures out it's their way of saying thanks before they need to struggle with the idea of writing to him. Iselda gathers something similar when they come in and slap a few Geo down for no reason, and they disappear before she can ask if they're sure.

The Knight returns later than they expected, as always forgoing use of the chain to land (more heavily than their small form should) in a crouch.

Lemm spends a little while staring up after them, at the thin, watery light that filters down from the surface. Eventually he shakes his head and steps away. It's extremely unlikely anyone would think to look down while he's standing there, but. Calculated risks. He doesn't like the odds even if they're low.

By the time the Knight finally touches back down, Lemm has wandered a little. Not far, just to the shadows by the wall, where he's now sitting with his legs crossed and his map resting on his knees. There's a small jar in one hand, and the other is halfway to his face with a slice of dried mushroom.

Lemm glances up from the map just long enough to make sure it's the Knight, and then it's back to studying the paper.

"Took you long enough. I've gone all stiff," he says reproachfully. "Did you finish whatever you wanted to do up there?"

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