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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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.

"If we do, it'll add a strange flair to any meeting we have with them." Lemm is a bit more amused by that than he has a right to be. He pulls the door closed behind them, though he's not sure whose dignity he's pretending to protect here. "Maybe you've heard this one: if you find someone intimidating, picture them in a compromising situation."

He pushes open another door. This room is in total darkness, and the dust is swept up a little with the opening of the door, but he reaches for his lamp and crosses to the window to pull open another set of curtains. Even a little ambience from outside is enough to tell them what they're looking at.

"Aye, she was a lucky bug," he sighs.

It's a wet room, with a large built-in step-down basin in the middle surrounded by burnt-out candles. The water damage has not been kind to anything in this room and most everything is streaked with black mould, but once it would have been considered a pretty extravagant display of wealth. There's mosaic in here. And to have it upstairs? Unthinkable.

Advice for Lemm, perhaps. Herrah and Monomon don't intimidate them much, only frustrate and confuse them at worst. Or not, as he might get too flustered to have a proper discussion.

They hold up their own lumafly lamp, somewhat impressed. They don't know all the ins and outs of the implications, but that this is a room and not a direct hot spring obviously speaks of significant wealth.

The mold is observed. The mural is also observed, as little of it as is possible.

Hmm.

I could strike some of this with a spell. Maybe I can clear it off a little. They'd thought about not risking it, but they do think they have enough control to keep it to the mess and not punch through a wall in damage. It should be fine as long as Lemm keeps well back.

Lemm stoops and squeaks a thumb over the edge of the tub, rubbing off the residual stuff between finger and thumb. Regretfully he stands and observes their writing.

Wait, but didn't they say not in enclosed spaces.

"...Are you sure?"

He is already backtracking to the doorway, just in case they're more enthusiastic than predicted.

They shrug, but wave him to go further. The damage is often relegated what they directly hit and a little past, with living things taking the worst of it. Mold is technically a living thing.

They turn away from the mural to a random corner with significantly less detail and blast a Shade Soul in its direction.

It was intended to be a Shade Soul, at least. The actual spell bursts with far wider range than prior, quadruple narrow eyes on the front, throwing out wild tendrils to catch and drag in every direction as the Knight jolts back in surprise.

A path is torn through the mess. Motes of mold drift through the air. Some of the loosest tile beneath's cracked off. Still less damage than it looks like it should have done.

He takes their cautionary gesture seriously and backs all the way out into the hall behind them. He hasn't survived this long just to become collateral damage to carelessness.

Good thing too, it seems - he feels it in the floor, flinching back and instinctively throwing arms up in front of his face just in case as the view into the room explodes into black for a moment. He swears he saw thrashing limbs for a moment...

Lemm warily creeps close enough behind them to peer over their horns at the result, his hands settling on their shoulders as if to steady them or reassure them he's still intact. Or maybe just because - wow?

"You're never doing that in my shop." This hardly means a thing - he sounds impressed.

Nod, nod. The whole effect hasn't changed too severely, growing in range more than anything, but those extra tendrils might knock or snag quite a few loose relics.

They lightly shrug a little, only to nudge their tiny shoulders into his hands more comfortably as they write. Is it reasonable for clearing the mural?

"...That depends. I wouldn't want to be caught on the other end of that."

He isn't thinking much about what he's doing, which is probably why his hands stay where they are - Lemm just kind of takes the Knight with him when he steps forward, steering them in front of him as he draws closer to the mosaic.

One hand does leave contact briefly as he runs a hand over the mural, picking at the edges of bits of mosaic just to see if anything is likely to chip off. The mural is water-themed, that much is obvious - but the details are lost under a layer of muck where condensation has given way to streaks of black stuff and then dried. Still, it's sturdy enough. Lemm glances over to the area of the room that the Knight has already blasted. It's... cleaner, definitely...

He eyes the cracked tiling. Calculated risk time.

"Can you do it smaller, d'you think?"

As they step forward with Lemm, this is given serious consideration.

Spellwork is Soul that they've changed into Void, as far as they can tell. They now have much control over Void as a whole.

...However, it's fast. Not as fast as a Nail-lash when they're particularly aggrieved, and they've plenty of control over that, but they've been using their blade for lifetimes longer. Simply downsizing such a speedy spell they're also accustomed to simply allowing it to stretch as it will might not be as easy as that, or as packing their self into their shell.

I'm not sure. I can practice over the rest of the room first? or^/and I could try to scrape it away. Though that would take rather longer.

"Anyone could try to scrape it away," he points out. "I'm not afraid of us getting our claws dirty, Knight, but it'd take far more of our time to do it the simple way."

He peers up at the mosaic and considers how much he'd mind if it broke. It's not like he'd be able to take this back to the shop, so its value to him as a reference or as a show piece is moot. And the Mansion is so out of the way - and it's going to ruin without someone living in it, anyway... Does it matter so much if it breaks now, or rots off the wall later?

He hums faintly. In truth he'd already decided, but he's more sure than he was.

"I'm not pushing you, Knight - I just want to see what you can do, if I'm honest with you." He pats their shoulders with finality. "S'not so odd to find spellwork a bit of a novelty, is it? I'm sure you're capable."

They reach up to tap the hilt of their Nail, unable to take it out without potentially nicking Lemm. See, they've got more than only their claws.

The rest of it, though, gets an upswell of pride, alongside an uncharacteristic thrill of bashfulness they immediately try shaking off like an obnoxious cobweb. Lemm just wants to see them try, more than wanting to guarantee a thing like this last a little longer. The Knight cares less about it than that.

It seems mold is one of the only foes I'll have the chance to show it against now.
So long as you stand somewhere behind me, you should be fine.

Yes, he's already behind them.

...Oh. Lemm registers suddenly that he's laid hands on them and lifts them away, folding his arms instead and stepping back to give them space. He doesn't remember doing that. No one told him off.

"I'll be safe enough back here, won't I? Let's see you have at it."

He wishes he had some advice, but Lemm has never really asked too many questions about spells. What he has clarified is that the Knight has trouble with keeping a clear head. So:

"You'll be fine," he offers, casual as anything.

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wow i didn't get ANY alert for this one cool cool cool

'_' alert email lost in the space time continuum

e~e not even just email, here too. guess dw got clogged up for a bit :I<

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