the knight (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
focusedvoid) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
boxfullofzeroes2022-10-31 05:57 am
focusedvoid) wrote in boxfullofzeroes2022-10-31 05:57 am
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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Just as his moving away hadn't, not for some time. Not after promises about not disappearing.
The Knight's tiny claws grip the cup's handle tight. They thought he might move shop to somewhere more convenient in the City, not...well. He would have told them, and they knew that before he reassured. They nod again.
--They should say it.
I knew you would tell me. Still, thank you.
...Thanks aren't what they're here for, though.
The quill hovers over the paper. They're not as frantic as they were. This doesn't mean they know where to start.
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"I'd tell you first," he corrects. "It'd pointless to start without you. You'd be excellent transport." They would not be finding out via finding his bags halfway packed, so to speak.
Lemm watches out of the corner of his eye as they begin what looks like a very familiar false start.
"Events first," he prompts. Lemm locks his eyes politely fixed on the ceiling. "If you're struggling, go through it chronologically. Doesn't need context or details yet." This isn't a historical account. He alters the wording a bit: "Just tell me what happened."
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...Just the events. Just what happened. Just.
After my mask was repaired, I wanted to check in on my siblings further within Deepnest. It had been a while, and I wanted to know what happened that led to
The Hollow Knight sticks like a thorn in their head despite themselves, and they take a moment, tracing the edge of the teacup.
their expedition into the City. Hornet was out. Tall Sibling was there.
I give them updates during my visits. I
amwasam often unsure if they listen. I couldtellthis time.I thought theyI found them kneeling and I despised it but I ignored it.I eventually asked directly. what had happened. I didnt fully expect a response this time either. The Knight pauses again, pressing a little further into the pillows.
I received one.
(Through Void, like our other Siblings, not writing.)
And
it wasthey shared somuchmany thoughts. hurting and terrible. I was taken off guard and fled to keep the Lord of Shades from frightening them further or ruining the village dwellings anddidntcouldn't think about anything else. and I ran here and hid. as you know.no subject
There is such gravity behind the mask of the Hollow Knight. That's what they're telling him here. And it shouldn't be a surprise with what he knows already, but there is something - he knows, as he thinks it, this is beyond naive, it's not like him - there is something to the image of the Hollow Knight standing upright in stone in a rainy square -- ugh. Now he recognises the bias. And he fell for it, as the sculptor and the client intended. Even with the context, the impression lingered at the back of his mind and it's been... colouring things. Rookie mistake.
Lemm does not say any of this. He sinks slightly into the pillows, thoroughly displeased with himself, and scowls at the far wall.
"Thought they were - quiet," he says, and feels like more of an idiot. "Figured it was their business, from what you said. Didn't ask." Should've, maybe? How was he, of all bugs, supposed to know that?
...Actually.
"Well, how were you s'posed to know?" he mutters. "Until they told you, I mean. Anyway it sounds - bad." Inadequate, that. But it sits kind of like an invitation, on the doubtful chance they want to tell him more.
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...It's natural to the Knight. They don't have a significant amount of experience with other surviving Vessels to compare to.
They motion disagreement, though Lemm is right. They wouldn't know, they couldn't. They hadn't even thought it. They thought--
I thought it was all of the Radiance. I thought because she hurt them. And she did, and they are recovering yet, and may possibly forever. I knew and expected such. But that was barely any of what they offered. They
The paw with the King's Brand pulls up and clenches into a tiny fist until it's still again.
gave me what they thought
I wthe King and "the Vessel who did not fail" needed because theyliedbelieve they deceived the Pale King by not sharing they were not hollow. and now should never hide anything. So they gave me everything. they could. These thoughts first but not alone.I knowI am afraid to look.They aren't afraid to look away from the paper, but their head locks itself facing those last few sentences still.
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Ah, that is a lot of information at once, and spread out on a page with not much coherence. Lemm tilts a bit to read better. And he doesn't mean to loom, only the angle is awkward...
His line of sight is interrupted slightly by their fist.
...He slumps back into place when he's done, and folds his arms over his chest, thinking. This is a lot. None of it is remotely familiar to him, and he doesn't have good advice, here, not really, just second-hand...
It doesn't take long. He feels strange about leaving them in silence too long here, which might be why his answer isn't exactly thought-through.
Nor is it verbal at first. Lemm settles a hand on their head. Give him a minute. Give them a minute. But he's here, regardless.
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--And the tea is upset. Not nearly all of it, but a few warm lines dump down their cloak and leg. Both jerk them from drawing further into swirling misery. They pat Lemm's wrist and gingerly scoot forward to keep any more of it from spilling over the pillows.
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- Unimportant, there is tea everywhere. It's all over the Knight and it's - liquid, so it's going to be all over his bed, he's going to have to sleep on that, but it's also all over the only guest he's got, all of this is bad at the same time -
The Knight will find themselves unceremoniously swept up under the arms and held, awkwardly, by a Relic Seeker who is now on his feet and didn't quite mean this at all. He is still in the moment. He is probably about to be horrified.
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The teacup goes flying (to the floor, thankfully, sparing the pillows from further abuse) along with the paper, and the Knight catches themselves before they can snatch their Nail free. Lemm gets a tangle of Wing flapping and wrapping wildly around his arm and part of his beard in agitation before they fully realize what's happened, and they force themselves to hang still.
Somewhat more calmly: what. They peer back over their shoulder.
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The moment settles, and: he is standing, holding the Knight like some offending stray beast caught going at a pantry, and there is a bit of tea dripping from them, but really not enough to warrant this, now that he's entirely present and thinking about it.
There is tea all over his floor. Amid shards of shattered cup, because the floor is hard. He stares at that.
Then he stares at the back of the Knight's head, suddenly unsure quite what to do with them. (There is Void tangled at him, in places. Not sure what to do about that especially. Can he put them down, even?)
...He puts them down, slowly, just sinks them to the floor until their feet are touching and very, very gingerly lifts his hands away, flared out like he's making a point of not touching, any more, see. See how he's backing off from what he just did. See. Look.
His hands come back to clasp awkwardly at his front, rubbing. He waits for their Wings to recede.
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They're discombobulated enough the tendrils of Void stay for a few long moments before snapping back to rest.
The Knight turns around and stares up at him, then down to the teacup pieces. And the growing tea puddle. Which is encroaching on the paper. They duck down to pick up the paper before more than a corner can be dampened, and then stare further at the shards.
Several quick things just happened after several more, longer, stressful things. They look back at Lemm helplessly. Again, unspoken (yet feeling very loud behind their mask): what?
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He's staring - at them, at the tea, spreading into the grooves between the tiles, he should do something about that.
No, first, the Knight. But either thing means leaving the room.
Lemm is too old to be paralysed by this. He presses a hand to his forehead and slides it up his horn, frowning.
"That was stupid of me," he says out loud. Sorry won't come. Most things don't. "Hold your thoughts, will you."
He determinedly disappears out past the curtain.
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He grabbed them to stop the tea from spilling, they realize. But made it worse. Panicking? They're not sure why tea is worse than the endless spilling outside--though they suppose there's no leaks directly above the pillow pile.
...They broke a relic. A relic Lemm was using. There's guilt, now, and it's almost fully their own.
Shade Wings reach out and start prodding the fragments out of the puddle and into a pile.
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He snatches up a cleaning cloth he left on the counter and tries to tell himself it doesn't matter it still smells strongly of metal polish. On the way back he also swipes up an antique scuttle, because he can't find anything better to put trash in.
When he hurries back in, he thunks the scuttle down on the floor and immediately waggles the cloth at the Knight to try and shoo them away from the mess.
"Let me. S'my fault. Here."
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Lemm kneels and begins tinking the shattered wet ceramic piece by piece into one cupped hand. This is easier for it all being in one pile like that. They've helped enough, and anyway guests shouldn't tidy. So he's heard.
(He pauses briefly over a large fragment with most of the shiny handle still on it. Narrows his eyes.)
"Keep writing when you're ready. Didn't mean to interrupt."
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Their own last few sentences are reread once they soak up most of the mess. Lemm's overreaction jarred them firmly into the here-and-now, if nothing else. The Knight's paws are perfectly steady.
They loosely underline I am afraid to look and stop again. Deciding where to go next about this is no less difficult.
My apologies. For the mess this time.
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"Don't be ridiculous," he retorts. "Grabbed you like a tiktik. Not your fault."
He returns to the puddle of tea and kneels to mop it up with the cloth.
"Sounds like it was dumped on you like a pile of stone journals," he muses, distractedly thumbing the damp fabric at the edge of a tile and examining the result disdainfully. "Probably good to remember you don't have to go through it all at once. Probably best you don't."
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They think a moment before exaggeratedly stretching their Wings--see, they could've taken off if he'd asked! (They're teasing.)
...That's reasonable advice. They dip their head. But.
I'll avoid trying. But I'll need to eventually. It is as if
they gave me those memories and emotions. I know they are not my own, but I feel them nearly as vividly.
For example, you used this cup for them. Or one like it. The tea was darker. They were unsettled by the steam and did not see the seal art. They had not held a teacup before but knew they were capable of it after healing.
It's less unsettling sharing with their other Siblings. But that's likely due to how few memories the others have at all.
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He finishes dabbing at the floor and drops the cloth in the scuttle with the rest of the mess. Out of sight, out of mind, for now.
When he turns to rejoin them he's buried his embarrassment very well. Not even fidgeting. Why don't they - just pretend that never happened. He peers at their paper.
It's... kind of disconcerting to know there are experiences being passed along. Weirder that it's anything he was involved in. Lemm doesn't think he likes it much; this is neither here nor there.
"Aye, well, I mean not all of it at once - not none of it, never. Dip in and out. That's my advice. Never finish an account in one sitting if you can't make it through without a fight." Unsettled. Well, that's about how he felt for most of the encounter, so maybe that's fair. (That's petty.) "You can tell them it was camellia, if that means anything."
Lemm folds his arms, thinking hard.
"Never held a teacup..."
And all the rest that implies, that's the unspoken part. He waits to see what the Knight will say to that.
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The Knight hasn't had much chance to hold teacups in their past either. This is...different.
It may. They were never taught such things, nor sat in where others drank or ate, but they have many memories of the Infected. (I received few of those.)
The Knight turns and drops heavily on the pillows again, staring down. They aren't sure if they should've shared that, knowledge with layers of shame coating it that are
different from the rest.
I don't knowI shouldI have their permission to share all. Because I am their King. I can do anything I wish. and you are important to me, I've told them about you as my ally and then friend earlier.I wish to share pieces so we can go over them. but
there isit doesn't seem right.and I do not want to pass this along as the King.
or evenThey stop before they can write again about being the deserving one, the Vessel that did not fail.
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(He tries very hard not to snag on important to me. That's not the point, it's - not the point, Relic Seeker, you've a duty here. Focus.)
"...Hrm." Translation: he's thinking. He doesn't understand, not yet, it's - he has to look at it through a few different lenses, first.
There are accounts of those in service of greater purpose, taking their angle to extremes. It feels like a similar story, but reasonably it's not - all the agency is gone. Besides, what the Knight is saying is personal, they're saying something is wrong with the Hollow Knight. Similarly, like there was something wrong with the Knight hiding under his counter...
Ah. Yes, that does it. There is an unpleasant pang at that, and Lemm holds onto it. Important to... Like that. It is the point, actually. Abruptly, he blurts out:
"Well, you should look at it how you want to look at it." He flaps a hand vaguely. "Never get bogged down in what someone else thinks of you. If the Hollow Knight thinks you're the King of Hallownest that's their problem. You're their sibling. You want -" pause, stop. He narrows his eyes at them. "You do want to be their sibling...?"
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I do.
But theyThey don'tIt is my problem. I am the King despite that being unwanted.I am their Sibling. They have nothing else but a title they never should have had, feel they do not deserve, and devotion to duty that does not exist. How they see me matters. to both of us.
What they will allow of me is more than they should have ever thought to give.
I want to help
Inside their chest, the Voidheart is a solid weight. They press their itchy Branded hand against it, as though either would be fixed.
and I do not know how. as Sibling or as King. I do not want to be King. They're repeating themselves. I can try
but I donfor their sake. but I am unequipped. That is what I am most frightened of.I cannot killI have killed all the problems for them I could already. I cannot combat their way of thought with Nail and Soul.The Knight has stumbled into their own uncertain past countless times, killed seemingly-unstoppable Gods, confronted fear they didn't know they were capable of, nearly killed and removed half of a friend's very being and have yet to solve that fully--
--and yet this, now, feels more daunting than any of that combined.
The mass of pillows have perfectly good crevasses to partially press into.
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"Pah," he responds quietly to their rebuttals, in a deliberately de-fanged sort of way. "Well, my advice was never going to be any good here. No siblings," he adds, to explain it. As if this is the most ordinary conversation in the world, like the Void and King's Brand and the Hollow Knight's legacy don't factor in and it's simply basic sibling drama.
They do factor, but he is an ordinary bug. What use is he with any of that?
"Look, you've come to the wrong bug for social advice - aye," he interrupts himself, noticing them retreat into the pillows, and pats a hand lightly on one near their face to attract their attention. Still with him? "But it's not about being equipped. If it was about being equipped..." He stumbles to a halt.
"...Don't be King at them, that's all I'm saying, if you're no good at it. From everything I've read the King's main function was to look like he knew exactly what he's doing, so don't give them false impressions. I haven't bothered pretending at you like I'm a - like I'm -" he makes a whirling hand gesture with his other hand "- Marissa the Songstress. And it's gone shockingly well anyway, hasn't it! Well, it hasn't gone horribly. You're still here."
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--but. But. Lemm is right.
The Knight rests a paw on the edge of his arm, very gently, so he can pull away if he wishes. And then taps it, at the comparison. The mental image is distractingly entertaining, as they presume was intended.
...No, they're not a King, no matter what the Brand was intended for. They can fake it, they can try and pretend, but it won't hold up over time if attention is given. Certainly not with one they can communicate with on such a clear, intimate level. It would cause both of them pain in the long run.
The advice is helpful. Your head is much clearer than mine in this. Thank you.
It doesn't help much in knowing what to do, perhaps, but eliminating an unreasonable idea is still a step forward.
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