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 Knight ends up staring at their little piece for a rather long time. A little beetle, with just the slightest shine of lighter tint beneath the tarnish. And the Stag bell, that gets a long look, too.

Before they start, they tug the paper back. There's still some space left to write between some of the wilder ink spatters.

You know, if these weren't your own, these are something I would have taken for myself.

They haven't recently paused to think of this often, but they are fond of collecting. They've been so preoccupied throughout all Hallownest, and before, making their way to Hallownest. Tiny hobbies fall by the wayside that way. There's no need they can't again, soon. Not with these, but...there will surely be something they can begin working on again, solely for their satisfaction.

They hold their shiny beetle-piece up close to their face, studying the worst of it, and begin rubbing the cloth via their tendrils. No, that wasn't a return joke--this is easier to get into cracks and crannies.

Edited 2022-12-02 12:43 (UTC)

That gets a hm. What he thinks of this information is not displayed on his face.

"I'm not selling," he says lightly.

Lemm has never been a generous person, and there's no flattering way to say that this is entirely on purpose. He likes to have stuff. It's not that deep. (Or if it is, it's not that hard to figure out.)

He is discovering lately that there are other things he likes as much, now that he's been given express permission to try and fail and try again.

"There're a few pieces missing, though. Seeing it complete would be a novelty, and I've no real use for games." He continues working the tarnish out of one of the more worn crown-pieces, careful not to strip the coating in the process. "Might part with it if you found replacements."

The Knight would make a similar hm noise back if they could.

They keep at cleaning the beetle for a while, musing. They aren't in any hurry to make conversation, even though that was primarily meant to be such. They don't want the whole thing even if they had a desperate desire, only the pieces. Though possibly they could use the whole of it, now that they're more likely to have others to use it with...

As delicate as their tendrils can be, they are, naturally, completely unpracticed at writing with them. With the quill right there and most of the paper a mess already, they see no harm in spontaneously trying.

The result, predictably, is its own disaster. WHere did yOu f ind thS?

His eyes flick away from the piece he's cleaning just long enough to - okay no he needs to actually stop what he's doing and read this one, because wow. Lemm scoffs lightly at the uneven scrawl.

"There're other shops than mine, dotted around close to Fountain Square where visitors would see them. As far as I know I've pried into each, so don't expect to find anything I'd buy off you." Literally pried, in most cases. "I found myself stuck three streets away in one of those kitschy souvenir shops, waiting for some unwanted attention to wander off. While I was there I found the board knocked all over the floor. I never could find all the pieces, and I did look hard. Believe me, those pieces aren't there any more. Must've been carried off or shuffled into the Waterways."

Lemm pauses then, turning the crown in his fingers so that it catches the light. He could leave off this next bit, since it's not pertinent information. But they're both getting better at the don't-have-to-but-will-anyway.

"I had a lot of time to search."

The Knight still notes this. There might be little trinkets they would like. Or Greenhorn. (Greenhorn isn't quite here. They're careful not to prod too hard to bother them, but they're busy staring into Godhome from the outside with a few others, both repelled and fascinated by its light. It's mildly concerning, but not enough for intervention yet.) They can most likely break into places they couldn't or wouldn't have tried before.

The beetle is as good as it's going to get, they think. The actual tarnish isn't much better, but plenty of secret grime's been cleared away. They snag up the bell next, which will be more difficult with how absolutely tiny the joint it hangs from is.

(As they go on, they're not picking up any of the pieces with prominent crowns. Whether or not that's a conscious choice will not be indicated.)

Their next attempt is very, very, slightly clearer. They could switch to their paws, but that would show how intensely they want to know, and they're not trying to be pushy right now. WHat was it Like?Been Here LOnger tHan I.

He's a little more confident with his technique, having done this approximately a million times before, and it's much faster that he reaches a point with each piece where he's satisfied with the level of care. To slow himself down - for whatever reason - he also takes on the job of trying to work out where they all ought to be placed on the board, which is much slower going.

(Lemm is aiming for the crowned pieces. The same rule goes for him.)

He has to think long and hard about his answer this time. The way he phrases it could raise their concerns or (worse!) invite pity, but downplaying would be a strike against his pride and... a lie, too. Lemm eventually settles on a compromising explanation somewhere in the middle.

"Unpleasant but rewarding. I've spent a lot of time sneaking around like a Tiktik and I can't pretend it's dignified, but it's been worth it - Hallownest is exactly what I'd dreamed of. Once I learned the pattern of the place it was easy enough to keep out of trouble." He adjusts the position of the first crown piece, distracting himself on purpose. The Knight is not looking for survival advice from him. "It wasn't easy. I don't mean the husks."

The husks are their first thought. They hated the Knight. No, they were puppeted by one who loathed the Void and her living prison. The slow creep of rage and fear the Knight watched grow their way through Myla's thoughts showed that more clearly than anything. It may have been...a little less deadly for those made of something else.

The metal at the top bends a little too easily. They set the stag bell to the side, for when they've better refined their technique, and takes one that reminds them of the False Champion's stolen armor.

They think they should write this next bit properly, and do. Nobody I've found is in Hallownest for positive reasons. It's intentionally phrased as comment rather than question.

He gives a quick little nod when they leave off the bell a little early. Better to quit while they're ahead if they're not confident. Even veterans make mistakes. (Like cracking a lens, for example.)

His hands still.

I am, he wants to say, a total knee-jerk reaction. He's here because he wants to be here. Because Hallownest drew him in. Because he is a Relic Seeker and there are relics here! That's positive enough, isn't it?

It is harder to think that way when his mind is already on the darker parts of his stay in Hallownest. Lemm goes back to polishing and gives a more truthful answer as evenly as he can manage.

"No, I guess not."

The Champion-piece is examined closely. Part distraction, part genuine curiosity, as there appears to be blades in the front the maggot hadn't had.

In fact, they have no need to continue down that minecart of conversation. Not right now. This was a visit. For all they know, Lemm is still suffering from his headache, although he's responding better.

...And their first foreign urge is to tell him why they came. The call. The ugly, nightmare scream. They would trust Lemm with that, but it isn't for this moment.

I found a maggot stole a Great Knight's armor. I wonder how small he must have been for one of those to work it.

It's a struggle for him, too, not to say more. They're both getting better at sharing their thoughts, but maybe not... not that good. Not yet.

Lemm seems lost in thought regardless, only barely registering the scratch of their quill and very late in responding to it with a turn of the head.

It's a better topic, and catches him wholly off-guard.

"What." When his mind catches up with this conceptually he tilts his head on one side, quizzical. "...How... small was the armour?"

They manage to clear out a nice amount of detail before Lemm is hooked by the subject, as the Knight expected.

...It almost looks like a pair of curved Nails, crossed at the abdomen. It's not detailed enough for them to be certain.

Large. They stop to scrutinize Lemm, trying to visualize... Your horn would have been up to its neck? I believe it's still in the Crossroads somewhere.

He sets down a game piece and lifts his hand - it doesn't reach all the way to the top of his horn but it's clear he's doing a mental measurement. Then going by the top of the counter he lowers it to a vague estimation of your average maggot. Casual as you like, he picks up another game piece to polish.

"...That's ridiculous," he scoffs. "That's a vast thing to be wearing for something so small. Unless the Great Knight was... not much bigger than you, and the armour was... tailored in such a way..."

That can't be right, is what he instinctively wants to say. He squints, instead.

"Did you happen to examine it?"

He wasn't much bigger than me.
I was too busy at the time. I believe the head split open down the middle to let him inside?

They run an indicating claw down the center of the game-piece's faceplate.

They've drawn his attention to the piece now, but he's still not seen the statue out by the gate and does not have a name to go on, so Lemm is still putting pieces together, woefully behind. But he's got his own approach.

"Articulated armour isn't unheard of. There're mentions of it here and there, from those clever enough to notice, and unimportant enough not to be silenced. A Great Knight might get the privilege... Unless it was a real shell. That theory I'm not as fond of."

He's interested, though, either way. Lemm is leaning forward conspiratorially, eager to hear what else they might know.

"Gah, it seems I should be asking more questions! You know more of the Great Five than you've let on."

They shake their head. It hadn't felt as genuine shell when they struck it, or if it were, it had been enforced in some way to intensely resemble metal.

I do know more than seems available to you. The Knight has no need for false modesty. They set the Great Knight down in front of Lemm for closer examination, should he choose, and take up another probably-shiny beetle. Ask away, though I can't promise satisfaction.

Edited 2022-12-02 22:12 (UTC)

This just confirms to Lemm that the Knight is, and probably has been, about as forthcoming as a rock. It hits him now that he has never asked as many questions of the Knight as he ought to, if only because he's never had reason. You didn't ask! That's the problem, because he didn't know he should. Fine! Fine then.

With an accusatory stare, Lemm points a half-cleaned game piece at them base-first.

"How many of the Five do you know about."

The Knight lightly taps the accusing piece with their own.

All of them, I think. I'm not sure what you'd like to know.

They weren't intentionally hiding anything; they just aren't used to simply pouring out knowledge of any sort, let alone whatever they've gathered in their travels by complete accident.

This puts him back in his place, taking smudges off the piece with a cloth-covered thumb and thinking hard. The right questions need to be asked!

"The... Defender," he says tactfully, "and the one whose armour you found in the Crossroads. And the Grey Mourner. That's three. What of the other two?"

Ogrim. They pat his name once for emphasis. The title of Dung Defender--and White Defender, they belatedly recall--isn't one they find insulting, but it's still a title. Nobody in Hallownest deserves to be known only what the Pale King dubbed them.

-Isma: a being of plant, not bug nor beast. She has a grove in the waterways growing above acid that Ogrim still guards. She seems to have died and melded with the plants growing along the walls for reasons unknown. Had something for acid resistance that I took from one of her vines.
-Dryya: seemed to be the White Lady's guard in the Queen's Gardens. She was slain by the Mantis Traitors, but killed an impressive amount first

Hegemol. He was the one with the armor. They tap the piece shaped like him, glad to remember at least one name that eluded them.

Edited 2022-12-02 23:00 (UTC)

He finishes the piece he's working on and sets it down, and sufficiently distracted he does not pick up another. The crowned ones are long accounted for, and he's accrued a small army of clean, lower-ranking pieces that he can't figure out places for on the board.

"Ogrim, then. Isma. Dry-...ya... Hegemol."

Lemm does not bother to write them down. As much as paper is useful for his current project, it's not something he's ever bothered with that much - mainly because it's hard to come by. There is a lot an experienced Relic Seeker can memorise on the fly without wasting writing material.

His attention is brought again to the piece with the twin Nails, and this time he's got context. He immediately reaches out to take the piece, scrutinising it closely.

"As closest to his companions I'd need to speak to the Def... to Ogrim." The realisation sets in. Lemm flags a bit. "...Somehow."

This isn't as important as discovering the Five. Lemm glances back up, genuinely asking.

"Does it never occur to you to share these things, Knight?"

Fortunately, they aren't going to bother keeping this paper with the names. There's nothing particularly sensitive to them on any of it.

I can still attempt it in your place. If his Charm alone causes such a problem, that'd likely be for the best. You'd need to provide the questions or a plan to what I should aim for though.

The Knight responds honestly, shaking their head.

Giving information/any communication but yes/no isn't habit. My mind wanders as much as my body on some occasions when it does.

"If his Charm smells like that-" No, no, come now. This is a Great Knight. Lemm's hands steeple in front of his face and he tries again. "I'll give you a list."

Lemm is... strangely amused by that next part? He fiddles with a gamepiece.

"Ah." For a stunted second he glances at a desk drawer, then plays it off by clearing his throat. "Well, you and I both. It's no one's business, hm?"

Truly. The idea of bringing them to meet directly would be amusing, but only for a very temporary moment. Not worth it.

The Knight can avoid too much writing from the very beginning with a list. The ease they've found with Lemm is unlikely to carry over, even with one as friendly as Ogrim.

(The look is somewhat noticed and fully written off. He must have projects in there.)

We try.
I can further, but won't make promises. There's a lot to find in Hallownest and I don't know much of its relevance. Questions work better.

"I'll be more proactive."

The questions are already piling up for one of their future question-and-answer sessions, but this isn't that, and anyway they're talking about the Great Knights and he is fascinated.

"Alright, let's try this angle: we're about to visit the Grey Mourner's old residence, surely that'll have answers for me soon enough. Hegemol's armour yet exists and it isn't far, who knows what that'll tell me. And Ogrim lives - which makes questioning a shockingly simple task."

He resumes polishing the rest of the set, since the Knight is about to be occupied with a pen if he has any say in it.

"But Ogrim is guarding the grove, is he? You'll have to tell me of Isma, then, unless I can convince him to give me permission...? What's so important in there? And what about Dryya? It sounds like you stumbled on a battleground, there, and that'd be educational! What of her armour, her weapons? Has Ogrim spoken of the others? They must have worked in proximity now and then, or they wouldn't be known as a collective Five."

I don't know. I believe he's guarding Isma herself. I was only able to get to her Grove after honorably besting him in battle. He guarded an acid pump that opened the route to it. I doubt he himself has gone inside.
Isma's last thoughts were of not having time, directed at Ogrim.

They're still going to be doing a little polishing of the pieces with their tendrils, though naturally with far less concentration. They'll stick to the simpler big ones that look like guards.

The Knight gives a description and sketch of Dryya's unique armor, making note that they hadn't seen a weapon. It may have been buried among the mantids' bodies, or otherwise lost in battle. Perhaps that's why she lost?
The White Lady is nearly blind. She once mistook me for Ogrim with the charm and spoke of Dryya as though she still survives, and was grateful for his apparent visit. She is a detached being otherwise and did not question his uncharacteristic silence.
She must have been fond of at least those two.

The Knight stops a moment. Ogrim would speak of the Great Knights, yes...and they're only now considering this could be a delicate subject.

I suspect they were fairly close. He knew them all and misses each, with Isma most.
He holds belief that they are all still alive and can bring the Five back together in the King's name, who he appears to not know is dead either. They tap the facts above about Isma and her grove. Their next line is not meant as unkindness: In denial and ignorant. He must have been guarding the Grove and nothing else for a great amount of time.

Edited 2022-12-03 10:53 (UTC)

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just according to keikaku

keikaku means plan in hallownest lore tablets

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