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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The surging desire to use that Nail on those thieves nearly trips them up into an abrupt stop. They weren't certain what they were expecting, and tamp down on that anger until it's well and comfortably buried before starting up again.

Lemm is followed quietly for a bit as they think.

Wasteland bandits tried to rob me a few times. I sometimes fought and sometimes allowed them, as there was nothing but my Nail to find in the first place.

One group thought me a feral grub. Multiple, actually, but some of those stories go back to a time that still shames them. They're not going to tell that tale today. Decided to keep and 'raise' me.

He walks slow, automatically accommodating for their having to walk and write. Bandits he's familiar with, though most of them were easy to trick into thinking he wasn't worth the fuss he would make. It occurs to him now the same is not necessarily true of someone the Knight's size. (There is a similar urge in Lemm to crack a few shells, not that he's fool enough to think he'd be capable.)

"...How awkward. Took your Nail, did they?" It's the only logical step. Lemm can't imagine the Knight wouldn't have started whacking, otherwise.

They tried. They were impressed how well I fought without biting.

The leader had recently laid a clutch, and I believe he was trying to use me as 'practice'. It didn't really work out. I mostly spent time guarding the eggs and playing bait.

They automatically turn into the next room, dimly aware it's some sort of art gallery with thoughts caught in the past. It was a long time ago.

There's something about the decor in here, but he's been distracted looking down at the Knight's paper.

"I see. You took to the role of a guard quite well though, it sounds like." He looks a little amused, though not for the reasons they might think. "Believe me, no one likes a biter."

Lemm looks up. And stops.

Well, first of all, the craftsmanship is exquisite, he knows that much. It's just hard to tell what the sculpture actually is, because it's one of those visual nothings that is meant to evoke an impression. In old Hallownest they called it modern, maybe.

He tilts his head on its side.

Ah. That is not modern anything. That is a visual something, actually. That is several visual someones, in fact, and they are certainly evoking some kind of impression.

"Oh good grief."

They give a small shrug. The group wasn't too unreasonable, for bandits, and they didn't have more pressing goals.

They consider writing as much when Lemm exclaims. Nothing threatening by tone, they tense nonetheless, looking to see what he sees.

Ah. The Knight relaxes, amused.

I don't believe butterflies can actually bend like that. The one in the middle, they mean, seated on the face of a lanky-looking beetle, arching backwards to press antennae and mouth against another butterfly attempting something similar. The wings that can't fold down very much make the image as a whole confusing.

"Ordinarily I would agree," he emphasises, "but this one is very convincing."

He sidesteps around the sculpture, lifesize though it is, and tries to turn around only to clonk his horn clumsily against another statue. He flinches back and in doing so gives himself a wider view of... two wasps of some type utterly foreign to Hallownest, their etched stripes filled in with some kind of expensive black resin - he is almost impressed by that until he registers just where they both have their mandibles.

Lemm's hand curls into an affected fist and this presses perplexedly to his mouth. He glances back at the Knight.

Edited 2022-12-14 20:24 (UTC)

The Knight does a half-step in his direction, still eying the butterflies, admiring the strange coloration of their wings before they turn around as well.

They meet Lemm's gaze before they see what he's standing next to. Wasps, playing with each others' stingers--or ovipositors?

I hope nobody posed for that one.

Watch! You can see the understanding dawning on him in real-time as his composure cracks down the middle like a glacier.

(- Oh, stop!) He flaps at the paper, batting it out of his view, and turns away.

No, there's nothing inherently wrong with a bit of erotica, and no, this is hardly the first time he's run into any, because he's a historian - as far as the term will run, anyway.

But places with as much Geo to burn on frivolity as Hallownest are few and far between. It is impressive how much is here.

"Well!" he starts, retreating from a wall of paintings of... it's art. It's art. Never mind the ants performing a frankly non-euclidean mass union in the top left. "I'd say we've covered what's in here. Fascinating. I think I saw some other room down the hall. Knight?"

You don't want to study Ze'mer's tastes? Perhaps of the other Great Knights as well?

They're teasing, but do gesture to the other side of the room--there are good-sized chairs by some dusty tables, possibly for sitting and discussing, possibly for more active viewing. They could be for any sort of visitor, but at least one seems enough to support the entirety of Hegemol's armor.

Still, the Knight politely shadows his steps after that, unsurprised by the discomfort. He warned them about the Pleasure House, after all.

"Do I-?" he splutters.

The problem is they do make a good point. The problem is admitting he's embarrassed would be a slight against Relic Seeker integrity! ...The problem is the art here is very good.

He hrrms under his breath, reluctance written into his posture, and stops and spins to face them, arms folded.

The problem is they have just told him they do not take keenly to being treated as anything but an adult, and Lemm may have been projecting a little bit, sometimes. Alright, then.

"...You know, you're quite right to ask." He clears his throat. "When I say mid-fleogean abstract, does anything spring to mind?"

They halt, slightly startled. Apparently their teasing was seen as more of a challenge than intended.

Far be it from them to back down, though, or at least rudely cut off a good Lemm outpouring of information.

Abstract art tends to look well away from anything realistic. However, I'm unaware of the first term.

Edited 2022-12-15 00:26 (UTC)

This is absolutely going to embarrass Lemm more than it's worth. Still - they've challenged him on his interests and he won't stand for it. Sacrifices must be made.

"If it were any other movement you'd think so. Every culture develops art in a way they see it best, though the ones doing the naming often don't learn until later. Come over here."

He beckons the Knight to the seating area and leads the way there - but he doesn't sit. Instead Lemm gestures across the room to a small sculpture on a plinth. It's pockmarked in strange little diagonal impressions, like it's been criss-crossed with the tip of a chisel, and the whole thing takes a bizarre shape in loops and twists.

"You must have met a few with compound eyes. Any thoughts?"

They follow in what's now the opposite direction as requested, bemused and amused in equal measure. If he insists.

The Knight decides use the nearest seat anyway, fluttering up to get a better angle. It's silkier than it looks, and they need to hastily overcorrect to not slip. The cushions must have been imported right from Deepnest.

I presume someone with such would be able to see another smutty image better than you or I in that?

Lemm automatically sticks a hand out in their direction like he's about to push them back into place if they actually slip off - they're fine, though, so his hand returns to his side.

"It's probably safe to assume, yes. We won't get the full... urgh, benefit, but stay here and tilt your head..." Lemm stares at the thing and experiments for a moment. "...That way. No, wait, that way."

He walks backwards away from the table for a short moment so that he can indicate the angle to them with his arm.

"And don't blame me for the Great Knight's tastes!"

Then he turns, approaches the plinth, and fiddles with what look like ornamental plates on the sides.

They slide up to reveal the inner sides are reflective - the surfaces are broken up into many tiny angles that sit around the back of the statue like a hall of mirrors, breaking up the reflection and... rearranging it a great deal.

The Knight tilts their head this way and that, amusement only growing. They don't doubt him, but still aren't seeing much. They could possibly try to stretch their perception. Sadly, it's that the artist accounted for sight changed by ascended Void.

Don't worry. Ze'mer has tastes far from unusual, only geo amounts that are. They hold up the paper so they don't need to move away from their spot.

With that adjustment, they can sort of tell what's happening better. Nearly. No wonder it was difficult to figure out--Hallownest isn't the type to find much necessity in clothing, and this seems to depict someone holding up the skirt of a dress as though it's taboo.

"Yes, as I'm steadily finding out!" he responds, only a little disgruntled. There are certain things about the Great Knights he did not set out to learn, or consider too heavily that he might. He should have, really, as soon as he saw the Pleasure House.

After some fumbling around Lemm finds a catch to lock the panels in place, and makes his way back to the seating area. He leans an elbow on the table and turns to look, horn angling sideways.

"...S'a bit tame, isn't it?" It's not as wet-and-wild as he was expecting, is what he means. "Ugh, I can't make out the details. I'm sure they've used a real style of dress, there..." He waves a hand as if clearing some mental fog and sighs. "Anyway, you don't get art like this commissioned unless you've got the eyes for it, it's too hard to explain what you're after and the sculptor's got to be skilled."

He pauses.

"What d'you think that says about her?"

Comparatively, yes, though there might either be a disembodied sex organ or one of their own being coyly flashed. Still quite difficult to tell.

That she had compound eyes, or wanted to show it off to someone who had them, I suppose. A pause, plan to keep going indicated by a tap of claw on quill. I don't know what sort of eyes she had. Her face was hidden by hair and possibly a strange mask. I couldn't tell anything of her features at all. This could explain part of why she didn't seem to notice anything odd about them.

Lemm hasn't caught it. He's had enough of squinting at refracted light for one day.

"...Hm. It may be that's the case. It's the mirrors that're throwing me off, though. Maybe she had them put in to show off to guests - that'd make sense." He considers this a moment, then gives a light shrug. "Or she doesn't and it was a gift. Either way, if it's in here, it tells us something. I've found no fleogean art in Hallownest before, and Ze'mer was well-travelled."

Lemm nonchalantly rubs at his eyes and gives up on looking for details; he looks back down at their paper instead. He does not feel like a repeat of earlier.

"Seems she had a taste for the unusual even after she settled here." He gives a good-humoured little huff. "Racy content aside, that's not unlike us."

Edited 2022-12-15 12:39 (UTC)

They can't imagine she had many guests. The caved-in tunnel straight from the Resting Grounds doesn't indicate it was meant for just anyone to want to stop by, even if the doors were open.

If it was always here in the first place. They're still suspicious of its placement.

Then again, she was clearly quite wealthy. Who knows with those sorts of bugs.

Aside? So you aren't enjoying the sights for yourself? the Knight writes, tipping their head playfully.

Lemm looks appropriately scandalised.

"Wh - from an academic standpoint, yes!"

He flicks one of their horns in retribution. They'll always find it easy to get a rise out of him.

"Don't tell me you've got an interest in this kind of thing! What are you teaching those siblings of yours? I've half a mind to blindfold you on our way out."

Lemm is swatted with the paper, since their horns aren't so easy to just tap back.

Scientific interest. There's nothing wrong with anatomy lessons.

The paper-smack was deserved and he knows it. Still, when he reads the next line, he'd love to grab the paper off them, roll it up, and bop them on the head with it. He does not - because he has a certain level of respect for the Knight's written word - but he does think about it.

"You'll find a rare few of those here! If it's not abstract, it's heavily exaggerated!" He cannot help a glance back at one of the more gymnastic-looking paintings. "...I assume," he adds faintly, and then abruptly snaps out of a staring contest with it. "Regardless! Stop provoking me or I'll drag you out of here and see you cooled off by the greenhouse sprinklers!"

Most are somewhat excessive, true, they agree and tease further. At least a couple have the genitals depicted in exquisitely genuine detail. Perhaps a little too much.

In any case, they bow comically low after that and hop down before he can try flicking them again. That's enough of this room, they think.

"Gah." Rotten. Rotten little monster. He's never going anywhere with them again! (Not remotely true.) "Excessive isn't even the beginning of it. I didn't think I'd be learning this about Ze'mer."

Lemm is quick to move with them, and attempts to pretend to keep his eyes down on their way out... but it's not his fault the ones with the detailed dicks are the most telling of sculpting style and use the unusual paint pigments. Sometimes history is just like that. Passionate people making passionate art with excessive, outsourced materials (and usually for Geo, which he can respect).

He thinks he recognises one of the still-life models from a painting in the Royal Quarter. Lemm pauses in front of that one just long enough to catch a signature in the corner, and snickers to himself as he falls back into step.

Edited 2022-12-15 13:53 (UTC)

Hallownest is full of secrets many would rather not learn. A good number are tragic. Others are...this. Including Lurien's sign they just barely recognize when Lemm's reaction points it out.

I wonder if we might find something scandalous about Monomon or Herrah next, they ponder in the hall.

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