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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He laughs at that, no longer caring to put on the aloof pretense. It's funny. This is a funny conversation, suddenly. There was a worrisome little pang of fear that maybe he was pushing it, but their writing seems to imply they're taking this very well.

"Maybe we will get along, you and I." He sounds curious - and hopeful, that much is obvious.

Lemm is hesitant when he puts out a hand to softly ruffle the fabric on the top of their head, but there are such things as calculated risks. It only takes a second and then he returns his hand to his face.

"It's strange, but I don't find myself dreading the company. You really do give me too many chances."

The fabric lump bops up a tiny bit, lightly startled. Not enough to immediately pull the cloak back into place, slumping down to play dramatic a little more before they finally shuffle it back to almost-correct configuration.

The Knight tries to think of something to say to that (they thought they'd been getting along reasonably well so far, compared to what this could be). But no words come.

Rather than reaching for the quill, they give Lemm a deep nod-bow.

Being bowed to by a stranger is one matter, and after a conversation or two that usually becomes a rare thing in itself. But being bowed to by the Lord of Shades -

- It's not like that, he thinks. The Knight doesn't speak, but there are things that must be conveyed regardless and sometimes only a gesture will do. No voice to cry suffering. Absolutely the first thing he's going to address in the record. Anything is a voice if you use it that way, as he's finding.

He does not make a habit of bowing to Higher Beings, but he can make a habit of using the same voice as a friend.

Lemm pulls back and quite unceremoniously dips his head low in return.

The reciprocation is startling in and of itself. The Knight goes stock-still, bewildered.

...They figure it's a thank you. Their first instinct is to bow back again, which would be strange. Possibly confusing Lemm back. Not necessary at the moment. They still can't help a sort of twitch.

Hopefully more smoothly than other times, they decide to push things forward. They lean over to pat Lemm's map aimlessly, lightly prompting.

Edited 2022-11-20 22:13 (UTC)

It - it's received well? He thinks? Or is it. Hard to tell. It feels like it might be a positive. He moves on, but he holds onto that.

"Ah. Hallownest." Onto the planning. He's never (successfully) done this with anyone else before, and Lemm studies the map with some trepidation. His hand fidgets into a drawer and comes up with the pins the Knight gave him.

There are a lot of places he's been, and he's reasonably confident on his own survival. But the Knight is not. That's what the whole terrible thing was about.

Lemm skims across the map and considers: a simple one first, maybe. Not too far. He's heard sometimes people will test the waters with a shorter trip before they're confident with each other enough for longer -

Ugh. Interpersonal rubbish. Lemm points vaguely at the Crossroads after considering said interpersonal rubbish.

"I've been there, but not everywhere. W- I'd have to visit a few places sooner or later. Might make for a practice run."

The Crossroads. Not incredibly interesting to the Knight after all their times passing through it. Relieving, though, now that it isn't filled with burning sickness. There were enough hints of the world hidden under Dirtmouth to pique their interest the first time, they do recall that much. There must be much they hadn't had the context to see a Relic Seeker would.

They nod, returning to paper.

If you haven't been there recently, I broke some new places open. The worst of the Infection's rotted away. It smells less(?) Elderbug complained about the sickly-sweetness they couldn't catch the scent of, and mentioned its absence aboveground. It should be down by now...?

"I've been there recently," he interrupts, unthinking, just wanting to say so.

...Not what they were looking for - that's what some might call a shutdown. Sheepishly, Lemm elaborates after they finish their sentence.

"I've been to Greenpath and back." Smells less... Lemm shakes his head, suddenly, bristling. "Smells less," he concludes. There is a gravity to it. "It's gone now, so I'll study what's left. Anywhere you know that's new to me, you'll guide me there." He taps the map with a finger.

The Knight doesn't falter at the interruption. It's not a question to answer, and they're fairly used to it by now.

They reach over and tap right where he had to match. Yes, that's the agreement. Althouhg they don't know where he hasn't been, other than checking out the Temple of the Black Egg and the Egg itself, so near Dirtmouth.

(Elderbug said some went to pray there. They wonder if their Sibling may have heard some of it. An odd thought they shake off for the present.)

Most of the west side isn't blocked off anymore, and a Stag Station is open on that side.

Once again Lemm is reminded the Stag Station is an option and he looks direly unenthusiastic about it.

It is literally the fastest and most convenient way and he knows it. Begrudgingly he starts his finger at the Crossroads Station and traces a few paths from there. Notably, all of them directly pass the Temple.

"If I - we take a circular route then... I'd like to take another look at the way into Fog Canyon, but -" quickly, with a meaningful glance at the Knight "- I won't be seeing Monomon just yet. I just want to be sure of the way to the Archives. It's important to be prepared."

Edited 2022-11-21 11:55 (UTC)

They're not sure why he seems so displeased. Perhaps he's easily motionsick.

The Temple's inclusion is given no comment. It's only natural he'd want to take another look. The Knight certainly had, long before they knew its significance.

That sounds agreeable enough...mostly. The way to Fog Canyon leaves them uneasy. They make sure to point at the wiggling lines at the bottom of the room just prior to it. There's acid. We'll need to be very careful.

He onboards this information with a nod. "I thought that might be what that meant. Not a problem - better a hazard you know about in advance." He holds up a hand in a kind of on my honour gesture and adds: "You're the guide, though. If you decide somewhere is off limits, we won't go."

The sting of upsetting them is still raw in his mind, and he feels compelled to set that rule.

"Don't think I've forgotten you're always running off on your own mystery errands, either. If you'd find it convenient to make detours, make them. S'not like I'm on a schedule."

The reassurance is appreciated. The leniency of their errands is as well, though they barely considered that, to their own chagrin. Of course they won't simply abandon him on a whim. They have a plan, both of them. Lemm's presence should be enough to help them keep to it.

Their gaze lingers on the risen hand. Tiny claws flex with the memory of holding it tight, and the Knight considers, briefly, reaching up to do the same again.

...No point to that, currently. They angle their head back to the paper.

Thank you. Having a planned route will assist in not taking too many detours.

"Hardly planned. This is a practice run, if you'll remember."

Lemm is still not convinced this is going to go very well for him, so it's a practice run, this time, but if by some miracle it goes okay then...

...He needs to stop thinking about this like it's a social event. He's been tasked by the Knight and by himself to get the full, ugly truth of Hallownest's history recorded. It is the work of a Relic Seeker's lifetime. It's work.

"Ready when you are. If you need to prepare or see to anything before we go, do that. It won't take me long to pack a bag." A pause. He squints suspiciously at the Knight. "Come to think of it: eating and sleeping. What's your... gauge." He is like ninety-nine per cent sure there has to be something weird going on with those things, considering the... non-euclidean-ness of the Knight's body. Might as well get the question out of the way.

More planned than they usually manage. More likely to have a plan that should be followed, that is.

I need to rest somewhere safe if injured. It doesn't take much time. Food isn't required and I've gotten enough full sleep for a very long time.

Lemm is scrutinized.

Yourself? The Knight pointedly turns from him to eye the back room. They noticed he hadn't settled at all when they did.

"I wasn't about to offer you a packed lunch anyway, but that's good to know. And let's not talk of injury, because there won't be any."

He stares at the paper for a second.

"Yes. I'm a bug, I do both - oh." Ugh. Lemm snaps his fingers to draw their attention back to him, annoyed. "Stop looking over there. And don't think to go wandering back there without my permission, either. It was a one-off."

By his tone, their earlier assumption was entirely correct. Lemm is not keen on the fact that someone else has been in his bedroom, or seen the extent of his clutter for that matter.

"I'll sleep before we leave. Before I leave," he corrects, suddenly a lot flightier than he was.

Nods to all. They decide against the comment on injury. Experience will tell.

I promise not to break in there. Not even in search of spare Geo or keys. A mild joke, mostly to the Knight. Those are what they'd had to hunt for most, though mask shards or soul vessel fragments higher. (Mentioning that could inspire more discussion unrelated to the 'practice run'.)

Time is difficult to judge in Hallownest. Anywhere underground, truly. Soon?

Edited 2022-11-21 17:56 (UTC)

"Rnnmgh," he kind-of-acknowledges. Their written reassurance is good enough, even if they're being so hilarious about it. "There's nothing of interest to you in there anyway. You already know where I keep my Geo." (If only he knew how much Greenhorn wanted to be set loose in the Cool Stuff Room...)

A nod. "Soon. I'll meet you at the City Storerooms..."

Um.

"...In a few hours." Nope. "Five. Five hours. Give or take." He's even worse at judging time than most. If there's any way of telling it down here Lemm is the last bug to bother. No schedule to begin with and no one to rely on it anyway. He might currently be realising this as he speaks.

(Greenhorn is very disappointed. If the Knight isn't allowed, there's no way...)

They are also realizing this, pausing to stare somewhere at the middle point between Lemm's face and the paper on the counter. The frantic sloshing of thought feels audible.

~~I don't~~ ~~There isn't~~
Yes. We'll figure it out. Being a little late or early shouldn't matter. They'll just...go there. Make their way quite slowly. See if they missed any journals on the way.

Lemm is visibly relieved. A sigh actually falls out of his mouth about it before he can bother to pretend otherwise.

"Yes," he says, altogether way too quickly for it to be casual. "Exactly. Doesn't matter either way. We'll see each other when we see each other." It's not just him - thank goodness. There are other places out there with better timekeeping than a dead kingdom, doubtless - but Lemm has always had this problem. He will make his best estimate and hopefully that will be fine.

"Now shoo. I've got packing to do. Scurry off and see to your own business or something."

The plan is set. They set the paper down and stand.

...And keep standing.

The Knight picks at the edges of the cloak and holds it up around them. Does he want this back, or.

...Are they stuck? - is a thought that crosses his mind very briefly, and he is about to ask as much before remembering the thing isn't fastened, doesn't have fastenings.

He has no need for it. There's no biting wind down here, just the shift of stale air around the caverns. It was an impulsive acquisition to begin with.

"Don't trip," he says simply. It is quite a bit oversized for someone so small.

Lemm pretends to be distracted by reading a journal.

They can't actually wear it as-is. Dragging it along through Hallownest would ruin it, and could catch them on countless bits sticking from the floors and tunnels at a vital moment.

...Perhaps they will get someone from Deepnest to alter it. Or they can make an attempt with tools that should be there.

For now, they take it off and fold, fold, fold the cloak until it's small enough to pack under their wings, where it disappears. They'll wear it later, in the colder places. (As if they feel cold the cloak would be able to protect them from.)

The Knight hops down and nods once more.

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