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 Lord of Shades is large. Infinitely large, in truth. The Void itself, given form, focus, and will.

In this case this means that Lemm will likely find a thick film and hanging tendrils of the stuff all the way from the Storerooms Stag Station to hang down from various cargo elevator platforms, wiggling gently beneath rivulets of rain.

The Knight's sunk deep enough to be communicated with by the head Godseeker. She's singing their praises when she's aware enough to. Their returning exasperation may or may not be coming through, as her litany involves much begging for punishment by nail and lash.

They will not be doing so.

He's so wrapped up in his own thoughts as he ascends that he may not have noticed if it'd been a little. But it's a lot. Isn't it just a lot.

Lemm's hands instinctively tuck up against his front, loath to touch anything. It takes him a moment to register what this is, what it must be, because there's so much of it and it doesn't resemble the little wanderer as he's known them... but now that he's seen the shadows before there really is only one logical route.

It's a very good distraction from what he was previously thinking about, because now he's wondering: did something happen? From his perspective, this could very well be a disaster. Did something tear them into this mess? Surely not. Lemm can't imagine anything that could. Surely this was deliberate. Then why here? Is it blood, technically? No, no, it's like the little shade, that would have implications, it's just... that, but bigger. More. Is this all of it? He's even starting to doubt that. And they'd looked so small.

"Oh, you're a fool," he breathes to himself very quietly (but very scathingly). Dirtmouth is forgotten. He'll be looking for the source of all this, instead, despite his immense misgivings that doing so is not an idea steeped in self-preservation. "You're a fool or you're mad. If you get yourself killed it's your own fault. Shouldn't have shortchanged them, you dig your own silly holes."

Lemm is careful where he puts his feet. It's easy to see where the shade is spilling from, and while he doesn't fancy hopping around on old cargo lifts he does know a service route up there.

There are paths through, technically. The Void mostly runs like liquid, though it sticks more thickly to itself. Plenty of spaces where quirks of architecture became a swarm of unconscious minds' guide.

The Knight is discovering despite eating the whole of Godhome, they did not drown it. (Digest it?) They've only kept the full realm shoved somewhere in their infinite dark. They've got mixed feelings about it, staring up at the Pantheons in Dream that the Godseeker assures they, the God of Gods, now reign over completely.

Meanwhile, their giant body is half-formed with a sideways head sticking out from the platform. (The Old Stag wisely vacated the premises much earlier.)

Only someone attuned to Dream--such as through a Dream Nail, or being a moth--should be able to see the motes of Essence that drift around their head.

Should. They're not quite clear, but to any passing eye, they'd be visible if one looked carefully enough.

Lemm finds his way to the Station before too long. He's in a hurry, though he refuses to examine why. The scene he's greeted with does not do much to reassure whatever nerves are fraying, though.

He lingers at the entrance for a little while, just watching in case of any sudden moves. When there are none, Lemm very cautiously picks his way into the room and... examines.

They're not... dead, he doesn't think. Looking at them now, he's not even sure if that's a possibility. But they're not responding to his presence, which he guesses probably means they're not conscious. That could be good or bad, depending. There's also something he can't quite see the depth of, here, and he knows it. Trying to see the tiny particles makes his vision dizzy for reasons unrelated to his eyesight, so he doesn't try too hard.

Trying to wake them seems like a bad idea. Waiting for them to wake up is... for another bug to do, one that's actually got any business worrying. He's not about to go splashing through ink looking for a place to sit in here, either. But the thought of leaving them to it chews at him so badly and he doesn't even know why. (He does. But he's decided he doesn't, so he doesn't.)

Lemm... goes for a wander. In the vicinity. Just in case there's anything worth salvaging amid the rotten cargo. That's why he came up here if anyone were to ask, though no harm in keeping a close eye on the void tendrils out there while he's at it.

The Knight is busy wandering through Godhome, with most of their siblings to match.

Not all. There are some that are too vigilant, or too curious. None of them recognize Lemm as a threat, so none of them respond for a while.

One sees Lemm as something interesting, though! Somebody interesting! This Sibling is far too nervous to leave the collective fully, but next time Lemm is anywhere in sight, a certain three-horned shadow will be eagerly bobbing up and down in the air in greeting.

He's minding his own business or at least pretending to, half-heartedly prying into containers he knows will have nothing of value in them just for something to do with his hands. His head is not swimming with thoughts of void and little masked wanderers and the half-shapeless version of them on the Stagway platform.

When he turns and finds himself looking at a shade, he almost jumps out of his shell.

"Ah-!" He barely manages not to say anything unpleasant out loud. "...You again," he settles for instead, and considers whether it's worth bringing out his excuses yet. Probably not. "Not satisfied with leering at me just the once, then? You didn't miss a trick the first time, you know. I'm everything I appear and nothing more than that."

The little shade is a... good sign? He hopes. They don't look worried, at least, though it's hard to tell.

They're sort of listening, enough to immediately shake their head when he asks if they're satisfied. He's still one of the first anybody's they've seen! The first other than Strongest Sibling, even!

And they remember him! It was so hard to remember before. They didn't even realize Strongest Sibling was a sibling. It was so long since they saw a mask attached to a body. It was so long since...anything.

But now they remember! They remember seeing Lemm and giving him the journal, even though it's been a while, and they saw a bunch of other things like Deepnest beasts in between. Just that much is exciting.

The three-horned Sibling comes a little closer, lantern-bright stare going between his face and the containers he's poking at. What's that? Is it interesting? Is it boring? Is it Weaver things?

It is, unfortunately, the remnants of a delivery of something very perishable. Emphasis on the 'something' and double emphasis on the 'perishable'. There's little left in these but a solidified mass of grime and the occasional mouldering piece of silk parchment that probably once had detailed shipment information on it, now pasted unpleasantly to the inside of the container.

Lemm holds their fidgeting gaze as best he can. "Just checking," he explains. "They imported all kinds back in the day - you never know. Might be junk, might be a box of King's Idols." He does know. What you'll find in here is junk, 99% of the time. It was a supplies depot, not a palace. Lemm does not bother pretending any interest in opening any more.

"You're a curious one, I'll give you that. S'a good trait to have." A short pause as he debates whether he's allowed to ask things like this, and decides he doesn't care as long as the ringleader isn't around to squash him for it. He gestures to the trailing void. "So. All this fits behind a mask, does it? Did you all enjoy frightening me half to death back then, or shall I just hold my grudge against one or two?"

King's Idols. They know what those are--anything about the cruel Lights was taken as soon as they all joined, though Strongest Sibling settled them. Three-horned Sibling puffs up and the whistling briefly gets much, much louder.

Only for a moment, though. They get back to staring, and they're not really sure how to answer that. Yes? Yes. There's a lot of them in the mask, and none of them minded scaring him.

They nod.

And then they try to stick a tendril in to poke the gunk, since Lemm didn't actually say what it is.

Lemm squints disapprovingly at their response. The monsters had fun, did they! What kind of a shadow collective admits to that! Someone ought to scold, he thinks, right before he sees them snake a tendril towards the container.

"Aye, paws off," he warns, automatically reaching out to intercept. He doesn't touch, is a little too afraid of the consequences to slap their tendril away like a hand from a bag of candy, but he does flap his fingers disruptively in the way with a stern look. "No wonder the masked one's so grubby all the time, if this is what you shadowy types do with your spare limbs. We don't touch that. Rotten stuff will make you sick..."

Will it, though. Lemm trails off, suddenly cold at the realisation that he's talking down to a fragment of that massive void as though it's a child of his neighbour or something.

They may well not be. They may well be older than him, if they're really tied to that ancient time before Hallownest. None of this is the issue, though.

Sick? They know that's a bad thing, a very very bad thing. They don't understand how it might make them sick, but they pull their tendrils back anyway, and float a little to Lemm's other side for good measure.

A bit delayed, they mimic his finger-wiggling as best they can. See, they get it, no touching things that make them sick.

He watches with a kind of odd reserve, like he caught himself in the act of being terribly ordinary about something and the brakes kicked in a little too late. He's not sure how to conduct himself any more.

The tendril-waggle at least seems to unfreeze him.

Lemm sighs. "Alright, you understand well enough. Come, then, I guess I should encourage curiosity for curiosity's sake." He gives a vague gesture around. "This place received goods coming into the city. Presumably things going out, too, though I've yet to find much evidence of the latter. Most imports would have been basic supplies - food, writing materials, building materials... And tributes to the King, maybe, though most of that sort of thing was looted long before I got here. If you can find anything in this mess that takes your interest, I'll explain what I can."

Another whistle-hiss at King, accentuated with a headshake. No King anything. They don't care about that at all.

The rest is good! They'd like to know everything! The gesture they do probably doesn't indicate that so much, since it comes out as a full-body wiggle at most. But the first thing they see that they do, definitely, really want to know about is...

...the lights! The lumafly lights, still fluttering and glowing in the rain. Three-horned Sibling flies up about halfway up the pole and points, not quite brave enough to get closer.

He catches it enough to gather they're not keen on the word King, though he can't grasp any of the gravity of it. He's not particularly fond of the King either, mostly just because the guy seemed absolutely hell-bent on making a Relic Seeker's job difficult.

He idly watches them float about as he mulls that over... Ah.

"Lumaflies," he calls up, following most of the way and giving the pole a gentle rap with the back of his fingers. "Little glow-bugs they are. We still use them nowadays to light up dark places. I'm not sure what they live on, but they're very long-lived regardless and they don't complain much."

Why don't you know about these, though?

"I think there's someone going around here replacing the ones that break or die out, but I've never seen them at it. Do you want a closer look?"

Oh! A Lumafly, like the one Strongest Sibling carried to see for a while. Three-horned Sibling notices how the shape is the same, too. Why leave some up there, and not carry one all the time?

They partly want to get closer, even touch it...but at the same time...it's pretty bright. It makes them nervous. Strongest Sibling can hold one in their paws, and they're not nearly as strong. They sink back down, shaking their head.

Next, the point at the hefty shells on wheels. They're extra shiny in the rain. What are those?

Meanwhile, the Knight's decided to challenge the first Pantheon again. A strange thing to do, intentionally hindering themselves even further than before they ascended. A Binding, for...something like fun.

They get far before Oro and Mato defeat them. The stakes being far lower, they'd been distracted trying the Dream Nail and genuinely paying attention, unlike when they only did it in scrambles for Soul.

They've been avoiding each other. They miss each other. They wish to fight with each other, and using the Dream Nail when they were awake seemed to point away from any of these occurrences.

...Mato was presumptuous, but kind. Oro had loneliness and his own sort of kindness hidden behind his gruff demeanor. The Knight considers being a busybody, now that the two of them seem less likely to die of disease.

Their sea of tendrils ripples while they slowly rise from Dream.

"Fair enough. I've known bugs who're squeamish about anything so small."

Lemm is kind of engrossed. It's easy to forget, over and over, that this isn't a normal situation with a normal little kid, and he has to keep reminding himself. And too easy by far to forget he's only getting along with them because they don't seem to know any better.

He follows around after the little shade dispensing wisdom and manages not to think about it all hard enough to stop.

"Ah. Now," he begins, and pats the side of the cart so that it makes a hollow sound, "it takes a fitter fellow than a historian to do the work, but you'd stand... here, and lift." He mimes, vaguely. He's not about to bother trying. "Carts like this are a large part of why bugs have advanced the way we have. Never break your shell over something you can use a tool for."

But why don't you know this already?

He's too busy thinking about that to notice the shift in atmosphere, at least not yet.

Three-horned Sibling mimics his pat, delighted at the noise it makes. They do it a few more times, going so far as to duck down headbutt it, making the loudest noise they can! It also makes them shake a bit, but it's well worth it.

Okay...next...next, another container like the one he opened before, but a little bigger. Will that have more sick-making stuff, or something more interesting?

The Knight goes from 'asleep' to much more awake after they try to lift their head up, only to smash their crown of hornlike tendrils against the ceiling. Their resulting scrambling is painfully ungraceful. They un-form, reform, and the whole sea of them retracts to the Lord of Shades' body only for it to slide down and fall directly onto their entire face.

Fuck.

Three-horned Sibling glances up in faint confusion before turning back to Lemm. It's fine, and he's more important right now.

Edited 2022-11-10 21:39 (UTC)

He moves slightly as if to try and stop them when he sees them pulling back for the headbutt, but... well, he's still a little wary, despite everything. He settles for putting his hands on his hips judgementally and going: "Don't give yourself a headache. You aren't a horn wrestler."

He's quick to cater to their whims when they approach a container, though. Again, it's too easy. "Don't get excited. There'll likely be nothing in here but long-gone provisions." He digs his fingers into the groove near the top of the container - and then he hears the distant thud, because they really aren't far away and the city has never been quieter.

Lemm freezes, head immediately tilted up at the high balcony of the Stag Station, and he stays that way as the rush of shadows pours itself back up and out of sight.

Slowly, he dares to look back down at the little shade. They're unbothered, it seems.

But Lemm is. Lemm is suddenly brought back to his senses and he knows that there is a volatile wanderer upstairs and that he is just a bug, and that this is not some neighbourhood kid with no teachers to look to, it's - he doesn't know, but it's the wanderer's. And in any case he's never been good with people, and never even thought about whether he'd be any good with... What business does he have here, really?

His fingers uncurl from the lid. He pats it with finality.

"Enough. With me, little greenhorn."

Relic Seeker Lemm heads for the route up.

The Knight further gathers their body back into their usual tiny form. They do notice--or rather, they're quickly informed by nervous others--that there's a Sibling missing somewhere below, which doesn't quite hurry them. Lemm should be safe enough.

...There's an actual gigantic imprint in the grime on the floor of their distinctive face-shape, eight eyes and all.

Fuck, again.

They're disappointed, but that's forgotten quickly enough with his beckoning as distraction. Three-horned Sibling comes along merrily, thinking over what Lemm just called them. Greenhorn? Like...Greenpath? Green horns would be nicer than white or black. Greenhorn! Three-horned-Greenhorn, following on the same side of Lemm's head as his horns, almost--but not quite!--close enough to touch.

In the middle of the path, the pair will find the Knight standing there, rubbing at their face despite nothing being physically on it. Ugh. They dispise politicking and they dislike sleeping when they aren't prepared for it.

After Lemm's in view for a moment, they glance up and give a half-hearted nod before going back to it.

The grime isn't even the problem. Sleep always left them with a strange sense of accumulated filth around their eyes, and ascending hasn't made a difference.

Lemm is just reassured that they're following him at all. He's more than a bit scared of what the consequences might be if this doesn't sit well with the host. Best to return the little one to their... ah, family, or whatever this dynamic is, before he looks like he's trouble.

He's acutely aware of the presence near his horns. He's going to look strange. He always looks strange. Nothing he can do about that.

Lemm arrives in the Stag Station with his momentary companion, and he is about to say something but the Knight nods, so he just nods in return and hopes the reunition goes smoothly enough that he can duck out before anyone's the wiser that he was really there at all.

No such luck. Sibling briefly wobbles through the air closer to let them know how Lemm showed them things, and named them Greenhorn! And then they wobble right back to Lemm when the Knight doesn't immediately call them.

The Knight gives Lemm a measured look once their eyes seem less disgusting. (Now that they're more aware of what they are...perhaps some Void spills out and crusts over? It's a theory.) Greenhorn. Not the most flattering title.

...Better than ghost of a place one has no memory of, and they've come to accept it all the same.

Now back in front of Lemm, inadvertently blocking his sight from the little wanderer, Greenhorn points up to the Stag Station sign, expectant. They sort of know what that is, but he knows more!

So. He has confirmed that the big one, the one he knew first, is still alive and apparently doing fine. The spillage in the stagways and storerooms was just normal and natural. Alright.

Lemm waits desperately as the wanderer stares at him. Dismiss him, let him go home. Please. He's not suited to this environment, he needs to be alone and forget he ever interacted. Let him go.

The little shade gets his attention, and he starts like he's awakened from a daze.

"...City Storerooms, Stag Station," he reads plainly, looking up but aware the Knight is watching him and hating every second of it. "Stags were a primary mode of transport. Fast legs," he's being watched by someone he isn't directly talking to and he hates that, "and they apparently took well to the routine of carrying bugs about. I'll be going," he declares suddenly, and turns.

Just as Lemm turns, the Knight is beginning to pull out their map, which takes a little more work now that it has a case to fiddle with. They pause mid-movement to look at him in faint puzzlement their mask can't properly express.

Greenhorn is staring, a little lost as he cuts himself off. That's about the general Stags, but they thought he'd say a little more about this one.

...Maybe they scared him again? Greenhorn sinks down until they nearly brush the floor. It wasn't them who did it, but maybe he thinks they did something to wake Strongest Sibling--Knight, that's their name--back up...

The truth is Lemm just scared, maybe by no one in particular. Not even just because of the Knight witnessing that he's here, but also compounded with other, older, far-more-buried complications regarding a long-time antisocial and his ability to be part of anything.

Relic Seeker Lemm makes it to the door, and he stops, and he remembers at least some of the manners that people use, and he dips his head in an over-the-shoulder nod to excuse himself. "This one's a scholar," he says... and immediately regrets it. Bad bad stupid thing to say.

Out, out, out. He storms down steps and along corridors and hurries home. Maybe he will leave if bugs start moving into Hallownest. Maybe it'd be best.

Greenhorn settles back into the Void, confused and discontent. They must have scared him. But he said they were a scholar? A good thing, the Knight assures, though slightly uncertain.

The Old Stag comes when they ring the bell. He's somewhat wary, but dutiful as ever, though he requests they not do what they did with the 'black stickiness' near the Stagways again. They agree, and head on.

Dirtmouth, first, where they equip Grimmchild. Their nerve fails them before they reach the tents, as it had several near-attempts before. They backtrack, buy a new set of pins from Iselda (a shiny dark green), and decide they'd prefer exploring Crystal Peak.

A great number of dead miners litter the tunnels and shafts. Far more creatures that used crystal spikes of defense died where they continue to cling, simpler obstacles than when they lived, but still in the way. The ones with light beams scorching the walls have stopped doing that in death.

Some of the miners' pick-claws are left on the floors of empty rooms. That could be positive, if some left instead of dying in place.

...There is still no sign of Myla. They don't like that.

The Knight plans to see Mato. Instead, they find themselves in the company of Sheo and the Nailsmith, where they take some time to be calm. They decline their offer to join in their drawing, though they may at another time, with how several Siblings watch with interest.

The Archives are locked. The Shade Lord could force their way inside. They decide they'll return later.

They loop back to the City. They had an agreement with Lemm. Surely, it's been long enough since they startled him? If not, they'll learn as soon as they darken the door to his shop.

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looks like someone melted a black ice cream in here smh

activated charcoal is bad for you

deactivate it then stinky

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