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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Lemm follows with his gaze where they're pointing.

"Ah. Yes." He stiffly busies himself with putting the lumafly bulb back in his bag and jogging the thing more comfortably against his shoulder, mainly so that he doesn't have to look up. "I'll be making my way back below, I think. Things to write down, make sense of. Um. Good work today."

He takes a step away from the arch, patting his bag closed with finality.

What.

The Knight pivots to stare before tugging out their paper.

Alright, but I only need a few minutes up there if you could wait. Greenhorn would like your perspective on the way back.

Lemm is not glaring. He's not. It's called resting indifference face and it is a real thing and the Knight has it too, so there.

Eventually he makes a low noise like a metal support creaking, and very reluctantly trudges forward.

He'll wait at the bottom of the well. This is his only concession!

It is a glare and the Knight meets it with their usual face, unable to express their hefty confusion.

They won't push, though they wonder if he truly dislikes Elderbug's lack of courage that much. It's not the strangest thing to despise, objectively. It's not as though he has to go interact for knowledge--unless he does, and is saving it for later.

They offer a nod before darting up the chain.

...And stopping most of the way up. The body in the alcove is, of course, still there.

They can take it up now. If they do, there will probably be questions. Or at least very obvious concerns. Lemm is their priority now. They'll bring this one home later. Soon. Soon, they silently promise.

Then they're fluttering up to Dirtmouth, to do as they wanted and rest on the bench.

They manage that much before Elderbug distracts them about their house. (Their house. Dirtmouth is not the only place they've owned property on. It is the only time they've had one offered with no strings or debts in either direction attached.) He says he's fixed it up, which confuses them until he admits it wasn't much. He got Iselda to tarp over the window and he swept it out a little.

They do a lot of nodding. He figures out it's their way of saying thanks before they need to struggle with the idea of writing to him. Iselda gathers something similar when they come in and slap a few Geo down for no reason, and they disappear before she can ask if they're sure.

The Knight returns later than they expected, as always forgoing use of the chain to land (more heavily than their small form should) in a crouch.

Lemm spends a little while staring up after them, at the thin, watery light that filters down from the surface. Eventually he shakes his head and steps away. It's extremely unlikely anyone would think to look down while he's standing there, but. Calculated risks. He doesn't like the odds even if they're low.

By the time the Knight finally touches back down, Lemm has wandered a little. Not far, just to the shadows by the wall, where he's now sitting with his legs crossed and his map resting on his knees. There's a small jar in one hand, and the other is halfway to his face with a slice of dried mushroom.

Lemm glances up from the map just long enough to make sure it's the Knight, and then it's back to studying the paper.

"Took you long enough. I've gone all stiff," he says reproachfully. "Did you finish whatever you wanted to do up there?"

They squash the spike of nerves when Lemm's not right where he was. Not everyone can wait in one place for an indeterminate amount of time without at least some discomfort.

Bow of apology, mostly sincere. The Knight doubts he's quite as stiff as he says, but they really hadn't meant to keep him waiting.

They make their way to stand beside him, to wait for his finishing what he's doing. They aren't going to explain. They're not completely sure how to categorize the dizzy bittersweet sensation internally, let alone convert it into words for someone else to read.

Edited 2022-11-24 12:06 (UTC)

Unfazed, he drops his trail snack back into the jar and taps his map as they approach. If they don't feel like communicating more than a bow, then he's happy to do the talking for both of them, just like he's always done.

"Fog Canyon would be a detour," he reports, "but not a large one. I'd still like to stop by on the way back. You're clearly in no hurry." A little jab there because he is sitting right under Dirtmouth and it's their fault! Kind of.

... Rein it in.

"Force of habit," he rushes out instead of a 'sorry', and continues quickly. "Fog Canyon, then, just to the edge of it. And then I'll go back." Lemm looks up from his map and studies the Knight closely. "I guess it's no use telling you I'm capable of getting back to my shop without being set upon by vengeflies...?"

Edited (i am a phrasing pedant) 2022-11-24 14:43 (UTC)

Dip of the head. Teasing is something they're not up to processing, still left a little off-kilter. Just in a significantly different way than when they went up.

You jest, but there are more things alive than last time I travelled through here.

Hesitation as they're standing next to him.

...They decide it best to continue anyway.

Taking the Stag seemed unpleasant for you. It's still the safest way I know.

"I never jest," he jests, totally deadpan.

Can't really use that to skirt around the issue, though, it's not long enough and it does absolutely nothing to mask the wince that follows.

"Yes, well, it wasn't hard to pick up on, was it?" He is a little sharper than he means to be, still. "Urgh. Rather a tram any day. All that lurching."

Lemm rolls up his map and stuffs it in his bag, and pushes himself up to his feet. There's absolutely no sign of stiffness from him, the liar. Just a pervasive air of awkward. He is quiet, staring off to the ground on one side and... reliving a few things, and then he shakes his head with immense disapproval.

"What that Stag must think of me, I shouldn't wonder. Unpleasant for me, you think! I can never set foot in a Stag Station again, Knight, if I have to make eye contact with that one again I'm going to crawl out of my shell."

The Knight's stare follows him standing up, somewhat baffled.

(They dislike the tram on principle with how much trouble it was to find the Pass. That the Stag disliked them, too, lightly sways them against it, though they know that technically isn't fair.)

I believe he understands motion sickness(?) He's the only one left--The only one left that can ride. I know he's grateful when anyone is using it.

This does very little to solve Lemm's problem. In fact he almost looks like he's cringing more now than he was a second ago.

"Yes, yes, the only Stag left running in the Kingdom of Hallownest and I've botched our one interaction already! Never again, I'm telling you. It isn't far to the lift and I am walking back."

He turns to go. And stops with an abrupt jolt. He can't do this again, he knows he can't. He's had too many chances already.

Lemm sighs deeply and tries very hard to be honest. "I don't mean that, Knight. Just - walk with a disagreeable old Relic Seeker for a bit, would you? Let me think, first."

They start forward and stop just as abruptly as him. They would be intensely displeased if he chose walking back the full wild route, but that wouldn't stop the Knight from following the rest of the way.

They uncertainly run a claw under their last sentence again, about the Old Stag's gratefulness, before setting the paper away and returning to Lemm's side. They can do that, yes.

It is immediately reassuring that the Knight is still willing to come along. His earlier question with the vengefly thing may or may not have been probing in the opposite direction, despite what it sounded like.

Lemm walks slow, because he is in absolutely no rush to move things along. He's very quiet, and occasionally he looks like he's thinking of saying something and then changes his mind at the last second.

What eventually comes out is:

"Others like you, don't they? Not everyone. Most, though."

They're slow to respond. They consider a noncommittal gesture. They're...suspecting the layers to this. It's harder to dig at than an Arcane Egg, but they're not doing that anyway. Lemm is the one speaking.

I don't believe so. Some do like me. Some completely despise me. Most overlook me in various ways.

Edited 2022-11-24 17:45 (UTC)

"Pah! You gave me a list of names of everyone up there," he points directly to the ceiling, "and the only one you saw fit to be negative about was that Zote. That tells me they like you there well enough. Even the Stag likes you, considerate little stray that you are."

His fingers are worrying at the edge of his rolled-up map, brushing at the spare pins.

"Well I'm not considerate, and I don't stand for being overlooked - and it doesn't matter. One interaction is enough for a relic, you see, and that suits me and everyone else just fine. The problem here is I'd have to go back and look that Stag in the face and ask him for another ride. That's hard," he insists. "That's unpleasant, as you put it."

Several in Dirtmouth do hold positive thoughts toward me. They do not comprise the whole of the world. They hope this doesn't come off as too admonishing.

The Knight stares up him for a long, long moment. They still don't completely understand why it's so unpleasant, but they're not about to deny that he feels that way.

I would think throwing journals at an upset beast would be more difficult than that, and you still did so. Afterwards you didn't permanently lock it from your shop, or try to drive it off or kill it. That would have been the easier decision.
The Stag is far more benign a being. I believe you're capable of enduring that unpleasantness.
And I can distract him with my considerately stray ways if you would rather not ask.

...Shame, he thinks.

He bats up lightly at the edge of their paper with his fingers, kind of scolding. "Ah-ah. The Lord of Shades is no Beast, that title's already spoken for and I won't have you muddling the records." It's been on his mind, as much as he's tried to put it out. "But I was afraid, Knight. That's probably something we should talk about, isn't it?" He is genuinely asking. There isn't really a precedent in his life for upsetting a Shade Lord...

Anyway, he needs to explain himself or the Knight will think he's going to be like this all the time, when actually he's only going to be like this around other people.

Ugh. No. That can't be right, either, can it.

The thing about coming to know the Knight is that they also come inconveniently packaged with other relationships. If he is rude to the Stag then it reflects poorly on the Knight. And: it won't be the only person, or even the only time he can never use a service again. They are in Hallownest, which means they are both very quickly going to run out of people Lemm hasn't been rude to. He can no longer one-and-done every bug he meets.

"I'll just... ask for the Storerooms, and be quiet," he decides, wearily, against a lifetime of better judgement. "I won't humiliate myself by letting you ask for me." ...Considerate though it is. His chest feels tight.

They wiggle the paper away from his reach. He knows what they mean.

You were afraid, and that was fair. I'm frightening. You acted through that fear multiple times. Perhaps sometimes it could have gone better from both sides, but it's still ended agreeably for us the end., hasn't it?

The Knight changes their statement into a question at the last second, somewhat asking too. If he thinks they should, maybe that's correct.

Reasonable terms for the Stag. They tip their head. It's essentially what they already do, after all.

Edited 2022-11-24 20:53 (UTC)

Those more tactful than Lemm might say something like you're not frightening! but the fact is he's got the social finesse of a rock and that would also be a heinous lie.

"I thought you might crush me at one point," he agrees. At least it's clear! "But you're not wrong..."

He stops at the edge and prepares to take a hop down to the main cargo platform. The distance between them, however short-lived, would be so helpful... But, no. Lemm hangs back a moment.

"You've been very forgiving, and it has been agreeable. But you shouldn't be overlooked. Do you understand?"

And yet he keeps coming back. Or--letting them come back. That's a brave thing, is what they're trying to go for.

The Knight hangs back, trying to articulate their own thoughts. This is a new sort of difficult, suddenly.

Maybe. I don't know. I feel less overlooked than I often do. You haven't run away forever, and you wait for my words. That's significant. They're almost completely still as they offer the paper this time.

Lemm studies the writing, his expression blank as ever.

"...I see," he says. He is still staring at the paper, at the word significant in particular. His hand shifts slightly where it's resting on his bag like he's going to do something with it, then settles. Tucking away the things they leave on his counter is a different thing than taking their words right out of their grip.

"I can weather a Stag ride or two, then, if it..."

He trails off, thinks a bit longer. Then he bows his head, a little stiff, but just like the nod they exchanged in the shop.

And he stoops to put his hand on the edge and drops to the next platform. He'll be using the lift ropes to help his way down to the bottom.

The going is much slower than the Knight is used to, but Lemm's clearly done this sort of thing before. He is careful, mechanical, and makes it easy on himself. He will not be reading anything on the way down, though, which is so incredibly convenient.

...That's good, hopefully. The Stagways are the safer way. And they don't think the Stag is going to hold a grudge, truly.

They're putting together, as they bounce from platform to platform, that this might be why Lemm seems to. Others holding grudges quickly, turning into a twisting cycle of dislike. Dirtmouth has been fine to them, but--even outside of fotunately-kind people, most of Dirtmouth owes them in one way or another, and Elderbug was a miserable kind of lonely in particular. He wouldn't have been an excellent first--only--face to encounter when already being snappish.

It's been...a long time since they cared when someone anywhere from disliked to absolutely hated them for a single mistake or, often, less. They're not skilled at reading age between species, but it doesn't matter. Lemm hasn't had literal lifetimes to forge his way through it like them.

--And ages are enough that their Sibling has waited, thank you. When they make it to the bottom of the shaft, the Knight nearly trips over backwards as Greenhorn unceremoniously shoves their way into existence. Hello, hi Lemm, they have been patient and all done with that.

Lemm dangles from the last platform in the column, one hand on the metal edge, and lets himself slide down the rest of the metal rope and lets go, dropping neatly to the bottom. He ruffles his beard back into place, and turns, and there are two of them.

Ah.

It is telling that all of the shakiness, the unsettled gut churning that was happening before is immediately grabbed and stepped on.

"You," he addresses them.

Lemm leans his head slightly to look just over Greenhorn's shoulder, to the Knight. They look surprised. Lemm is not sure what to do with that. He tilts back into place and regards the shade with an even stare.

He straightens his bag and quietly rests his hand over the side to make sure the flap is in no danger of opening. There's a lumafly bulb in there.

"Shared the nickname, did you? You must have."

The Knight rubs at their eye. They could have asked.

They already did ask! Lemm said yes twice!

Greenhorn swoops between their horns and shoots off to hover in front of Lemm, looking him over again. The bag is given extra attention because he moved his hand over it, and it's different from what he usually looks like. He didn't have this before, did he...? The Knight tells them no, which is relieving they hadn't forgot.

He asked a question. They nod like the Knight does, head a little more bobbly. They like it, and they shared it because they liked it.

Lemm's nervousness outweighs his positivity for now, but this little... floating, darting, interested thing, it's - it's enough to flatten his nerves nearly dead. Never mind their strange emergence, now that the Knight is not a pool of ink in the Storerooms. (Yes, it's strange. There is little Lemm is spooked by, though. His fears are much less interesting.)

They're nodding. Clumsily. As he understands it they wanted to listen. Lemm helplessly flounders ahead, hand stiffly pressed against the flap of his bag as they look it over. Nothing interesting in there, definitely.

"Didn't think it'd stick. Means you're new, and you ask a lot of questions." He hopes very much neither Greenhorn nor the Knight takes offense at the term, but it's too late to take it back now. (And anyway, it's not wrong.) "I suppose you've some of them now, then."

Again he tilts. Gives the Knight a look.

Is this okay. They seem like they came out of nowhere. Is this still permitted. Is he encouraging something he shouldn't.

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