the knight (
focusedvoid) wrote in
boxfullofzeroes2022-10-31 05:57 am
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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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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?"
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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.
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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."
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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.
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...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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They'll be fine. They'll make sure of it.
Stepping back for better aim, the Knight--no, that's Focus, attempting to pull too much in. They spend a short time outwardly doing nothing, internally doing the equivalent of staring at their Soul. They'd never considered the actual conversion aspect. They had spells, and then their spells were stronger. Unless Ze'mer has a Shaman hidden in her basement--
--well, she does. In the tunnels beneath. They've already found a Charm by that one.
They'll be fine, they remind themselves.
The stronger Shade Soul bursts forth and--stutters in front of them as they try to pull it back into a weaker state. It moves through the air at a fair slower clip than usual, the new tendrils it has streaking behind itself similar to the previous version rather than reaching out.
It tears a significant streak through the mess even so.
A handful of tiles crack and scatter to the floor.
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What happens is damage, and he can't say he's that surprised. In the aftermath there is a swathe of clean tile (flowers, sitting on a lake of some kind?) with a little crack of missing pieces down the middle, and Lemm finds himself instantly spurred to do damage control.
Not on the mosaic, though. He will attend to that in a moment.
"That looked more orderly than the last one, eh?"
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A tendril from wing sneaks out to pick up a few tiny tiles for their examination. Some are remarkably whole. Several...are not.
Still a spell more for combat than cleaning, I'm afraid.
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"Pah! For now. You've only to practice and I'll have you doing all my work for me." A joke. He likes the work of cleaning up relics. Still though.
Satisfied that they're not expecting him to be upset with their result, Lemm gives himself a full view of the mosaic from where he is and then joins them closer to it again. He takes one of the tiles from their tendril to save having to bend down and peers at it.
The image as a whole seems to be of a particularly serene pond or lake, blooms similar to Delicate Flowers floating on its surface. It's mostly in shades of grey like the rest of the mansion, but in places there are subtle hints of pale blue where the water reflects, and soft green around its edges.
It is a shame about the broken bits, but... not enough to bring up.
"I wonder if this was somewhere she knew well? It's certainly no Blue Lake."
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Truthfully, they wouldn't care terribly much if Lemm requested that. Acts some might find insulting or degrading are just another action they can choose for politeness' or their own entertainment's sake. For a while, at least.
They still don't plan trying this particular method much further.
I can't decide if amount of Delicate Flowers might be genuine, or from Ze'mer's taste to put them in places she finds particularly pleasing.
After a moment of reflection, the Knight sets the tiles down in a careful pile by one of the burnt-out candles. An offer of some respect to none after the damage caused.
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Ah, Hallownest. It's not often a place has the resources to let its inhabitants lounge about making art all day. Survival took a back seat for a while - at least for its citizens, even if things were going terribly wrong behind the scenes. He's really quite the lucky Relic Seeker to witness the artistic results.
Smut galleries notwithstanding.He is wrapped up in that thought when he glances over at the Knight, and it takes him a moment to register what they're actually doing. 'Considerate little stray' indeed. Maybe the accidental damage bothers them more than he thought.
"It might be fixable with some mortar, I imagine," he muses. "Not that I have any, nor the intent to come back any time soon." Not the point! The point is it's fixable. That's all.
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If only I could carry it back to your sh-- pause, midsentence, as they realize they potentially do as they're thinking. The Lord of Shades could probably rip through the Mansion enough to take part of a wall. --your shop without destroying all the rest.
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"Ah, no - we won't be punching any holes in the wall of a Great Knight's abode today!" A light laugh, and he waves the thought off. "Besides that, it sets a precedent that I might be able to get this kind of thing home. I've got to draw the line somewhere, or I'll end up with all of Hallownest in my shop."
Lemm considers the other possibility, one that's been on his mind for a little while.
"D'you think that mystery fixer takes maintenance requests?"
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Oh, but that brings the Knight up short.
I have no idea. Nothing can stop a try. Though I don't believe they'd want to come here at a left note or somesuch. Not unless they're obsessed
orand foolish. It would shriek 'trap'.no subject
"...No, you're probably right about that. Then again, who goes around fixing things in a kingdom-wide plague?" A shrug. "They used to have noticeboards for these things. You could always start small, and ask for something closer to home."
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They nod decisively, though they haven't any idea what to choose yet. The things destroyed are usually what they themselves have done, and are already repaired quickly...
Anything else in need of fixing specifically are objects they're blind to after seeing so much ruined. Perhaps they can simply request to meet them first.
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That does remind him, though...
"How's that been going for you? Last I heard you hated it, but I can't imagine what it entails in a place like this."
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Queen Herrah needed the King of Hallownest to assist in altering old treaties with the Mantises the last time. I was glad to make things a little more tolerable. It was nonetheless incredibly dull and frustrating. I was more or less a prop.
I'm working to avoid more of that.
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The political intrigue... Suffice it to say Lemm is not a fan.
"Grave stuff! Maybe it shouldn't come as a surprise to me that any old treaties still hold at all..." It does, though. It's been a long time! The Mantis Tribe must be stalwart indeed. "I certainly don't envy you. Surely you can just tell them to sort it out?"
Diplomacy: not his strong suit. Do not make this bug mayor of anything.
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The Tribe made a deal with the
Palold King to defend against Deepnest's encroachment, which is unnecessary for the survivors with mind left. Leaving them to it would have meant further pointless death.The Knight isn't eager to carry the more obnoxious or needless responsibilities of King, but they can't deny a private thrill at calling the Pale King the old King.
I don't believe there are others to worry about. but perhaps the Hive, which may have collapsed with their Queen long dead. Their relations with Deepnest seemed fair. That shouldn't require my interference in any case.
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Likely there's more about the workings of the City's relations with others in the Watcher's Spire, if anywhere - but he could never get in. Maybe now that it isn't crawling with infected bugs...? Lemm strokes at his beard thoughtfully.
"If you happen to need any records checking... Bah, I can't promise anything and you don't need me getting involved. But don't be shy of delegating." A huff. "I don't have the head for that kind of thing either, but if I can support you at all - ah, this isn't because you're King of anything, by the way. I already believe you a much better fit than the last one, but that has nothing to do with me."
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It's just a favor being offered. A favor from a friend, even as he's cautious against too much involvement. Kind of him despite their not wanting to risk it. Politics are difficult, and hold danger less obvious than crumbling ruins or a possessed population.
Thank you.
Unsure what more to add--there's much they could, and most but some pleasure at better fit than the last would only further sour the mood--they simply offer that with a deep bow.
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Lemm awkwardly tries to take some of the ceremony out of it by gingerly pushing their paper away. He's glad they took him seriously, but it doesn't mean he's used to the acknowledgement.
"If all else fails you can tell everyone you're retiring." A scoff. "Just make sure you declare it." Do not vanish without a trace like some people he could mention.
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They glance at their paw. In the relative light of the hallway, the Brand is still near-impossible to make out. I don't know what might happen to this if I did. Soul spell nonsense.
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Soul spell nonsense as they put it has always been a bit... dense. Never seemed to make much sense or come together into something he fully understood. He'd try anyway.
"Would you miss it?"
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