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 makes a motion that could be considered a flinch. It wouldn't have been noticeable if they hadn't been holding an extremely sharp blade in the air. Carefully, they set it down. Still perfectly in reach. Perfect to admire. Perfect, and still not worth the life that it nearly cost.

So Lemm knows him. So the Nailsmith's--obsession was so clear for even him (and perhaps that's uncharitable) to realize.

The Knight had considered fulfilling that request. Abstained, of course. There was no benefit to a moment of beautiful cruelty when there was more than that hut in the world. But they had, staring at the back of his shell, listening to his reverent voice drifting over the sound of rain.

They will not mention this.

Slowly, they nod. Currently in Greenpath. Significantly more well than the last I saw him nearby. He realized he has much to learn outside of metal and weapons, and is glad to be taught.

Seeing the Knight react like that is a big tell. He doesn't need to explain what he means. They know. Obviously.

Lemm is still a little unsteady - in a way that perhaps the Knight would recognise if they were privy to this. He holds it together quite well, straying his other hand over the blade now, just... tracing. Admiring the craftsmanship, maybe, or else just anchoring himself.

"We weren't close and I doubt I cross his mind. But I'm glad you told me." There's none of the usual Lemm-like clip to that. It just is. "Anyway, I can scarcely believe this is the same shabby Nail that came wandering in with you that first time. I may not have thought much of his goal, but this really is a thing to behold."

He stops just short of trying to bargain. Lemm is already aware that's a non-starter.

"Been with you a while, has it?"

Bringing Lemm to visit or vice versa fully makes its way to their set goal list. They will not force it, as they said. But becoming aware someone isn't dead when one suspects as much has less impact than actually seeing it. They hadn't thought they'd meet the Nailsmith again either.

A difficult feat in even their initial thoughts. They shattered their own mask more times than they'd like to admit just going to visit, even after they got used to it. They can possibly arrange a meeting if all are amenable. If.

That's for later. Nail talk is now, though they're a little less pleased by it now. Shabby...

That's not incorrect. Still, it stings a touch. If the Knight was aware he even considered bargaining, that sting would be taken as full-blown insult. Fortunate he knows better.

Forever.

He's just relieved to get away from that topic. Maybe he'd discuss it further if they'd asked, but the only things he can think to say are... too telling, too personal, and probably too similar to gossip. Both of them know better.

"Hm."

Again the temptation is there, but he's too certain they won't part with it to even bother. It's one thing to collect aesthetically-pleasing and historically-important relics left behind by storied figures, but... this is very much not left behind. In fact this is the first time he's seen them put it down.

...At that thought, Lemm takes his hand back off the Nail with an air of finality.

Storied figures, though.

"It must've seen some battles. Same as you, eh?" ...This will get a yes or no, he realises, and quickly tacks on: "I'd hear of one, if you'd tell it. I think we've about exhausted what we'll find of the Great Knights before we make our visits." That, and he wouldn't want them to think he'd lost interest in the Knight sitting in front of him.

The Knight picks it back up, though they hold it out a little longer for admiration's sake. They don't have much time to just sit and look at it. Didn't. They do now, but still have little reason to do so.

They already had half-agreement going on before he kept going, and they stop mid-nod. They should've been prepared for a query like this eventually.

They aren't.

...They get out a new sheet of paper.

They consider first the False Knight, as that was a recent subject, but it was hardly impressive. A bit sad once they found his siblings mourning him above.

Historically relevant? The Radiance--? The mere memory of their ascension to find her is enough to stir their Siblings in a way that warns them off. Hornet? Their battles with her had been enjoyable in their own frustrating ways. She had fun in her grim duty. They had fun in their stubborn learning of her unique Needle-based tactics. The Mantis Lords had been enjoyable as well, and they could boast of the respect they'd earned through it. The Coliseum had been a mad rush they still hold equal pride and annoyance at being titled Fool. This City itself had wild gauntlets aplenty where the most powerful guards awaited, and this is well before mentioning the Soul Sanctum--perhaps that should be avoided as well.

And these are only a tiny clawful in Hallownest, as they assume Lemm's interest lies.

The Knight has been staring at the paper for a while now.

His eyes linger on it. They're allowed to flourish! It's a fine piece of metal they have, and worth a spotlight.

(Lemm's hand twitches to the discarded sheets they've used so far. He stops fast, and drums his fingers on the counter instead, just to keep himself from straying.)

There appears to be no answer forthcoming.

He can see their handwriting, if he pictures it. Mind wanders.

"Your easiest," he tries, "if it helps."

Easiest? They eye him incredulously. Easiest. Tiktiks would be easiest.

...On second thought, the things' wandering into their Nail hardly counts as 'battle'.

When I had the misfortune of meeting Zote, he was in the maw of a Vengefly King-Patriarch of a vengefly colony, several times larger than the usual kind. When I struck it to free him, it objected.

It was a longer battle than deserved. I had nonfunctioning wings then and it flew higher than I could often reach. I had to fend off other vengeflies it called as reinforcements while striking it as it swooped to attack. My Nail was in disrepair and it took many hits and cracks to my mask before I finally killed it. (Dealing with Zote after was worse than the injuries.)

Hardly a striking tale, but it's what he asked for.

Asking for their easiest may have been a tactical play on Lemm's part. The Knight has far more grandiose stories, but he's had the suspicion for a bit that even their least noteworthy would still turn out to be feats in their own right. This turns out to be correct.

Lemm reads their retelling and allows the usual sense of wonder to rise in him as it does when he reads any particularly riveting Wanderer's Journal. Occasionally he glances to their Nail just to picture it differently, imagining it in their grip...

It's also a tactful choice because he finds himself rather more jolted by the imagery of vast Vengefly jaws coming for the Knight than he expected. He knows they're a warrior, he just doesn't think about it much. The Nail is an excellent reminder.

"I do enjoy a tale of action just for the sake of it, you know," he admits. "But this is a fine peek into your life before we met, as well! Hearing your Nail has seen combat helps me believe it all the more."

And... that they have. All he's seen is that they chased off a Goam (not that he was watching for most of that), and the evidence of the fight in the Black Egg... and that's too sharp a story for this visit.

"When a strange little wanderer came trotting through my door I hardly expected to find out what I have. Tales like this have me reminded you're the lethal type." In that tone it sounds a lot like a compliment. "S'hard to remember that when you're sitting on my counter making a mess."

That could be read as insult, if they wanted, and there was a time long before Hallownest they absolutely would've considered it such. They're fairly small and look soft. Their silence can be read as shyness, foolishness, or outright fear. Lemm isn't nearly the first to skip over the idea that they're one for battles.

That he asked and seems to have found it fascinating, even for something so easy, is grounds for a sweep of pride.

There's a great many more I could offer. I enjoy a good fight, but Hallownest had more than even I can appreciate.

It's pleasant to do things like this in its comparative peace.

"Yes, well I imagine there're fewer fights for you to have now, eh?"

Pleasant is the right word exactly. He's used to sitting in here by himself, deciphering other people's journals to the sound of rain. That was peaceful and pleasant enough. The atmosphere is different now with the Knight in here, and the sound of their quill scribbling away has added itself to the ambience seamlessly.

"Speaking of - I've been meaning to ask a while. In the Storerooms, when you were..." He makes a vague gesture, waggling his fingers along an imaginary flat line. "It didn't look deliberate to me, that's why I was hanging around. Felt a bit ridiculous when I figured out you were probably just... Were you asleep, then?"

Nod. Far, far fewer. None, in truth, outside of Godhome--they hardly count chasing a Goam away as battle.

They would've thought they'd be growing bored by now, but they've felt is restless at the worst. Hallownest continues to be a large, interesting maze, and they're already planning on breaking their way into certain areas to make it more to alleviate the restlessness when simply retreading won't cut it.

The Knight stares blankly up until he mentions sleep. Right. Nothing about the Old Stag, that. They automatically push a paw around their eye at the phantom sensation.

Yes, I was asleep. I hadn't since before ascending(?) and didn't know that I'd they stop writing to partly mimic Lemm's gesture do that.

At least he was right about it not being deliberate. It would be nice to have known in advance what classes as some kind of warning sign about the Shade Lord's general state of health, but he doubts any of that would come naturally to anyone, much less him.

Apparently it doesn't come naturally to the Knight, either.

"Ah. Stumbling across you like that was -" alarming? concerning? "- a surprise." Lemm leans back in his seat a little, thinking for a moment. "So was meeting Greenhorn, though I've no regrets about that."

Any other would probably preface this next part with a forgive me for pointing this out, but this is Lemm, so:

"A lot of what I've seen of your - other look hasn't seemed all that calculated."

Greenhorn's attention shifts from Godhome to the present outside. What about them? Oh, Lemm was surprised to see them?

They were surprised at their own bravery, reaching out to visit without me, the Knight conveys, to a sense of very mild indignance.

That observation gets a simple headshake. It isn't. It wasn't from the moment they became that other look. Themselves and their siblings and all the Void ever was, which they aren't even aware of the depths of, free to do as it wanted when it wanted.

Nearly. They have assurance in their own self-control reaching out to soothe Siblings to know they can stop from doing what many wish--to attack and drown everything frightening or foreign. Too instinctive, and more importantly, too pointlessly cruel. They're learning of neutral and better through the Knight's eyes.

Edited 2022-12-05 16:32 (UTC)

Lemm pretends some haughtiness, folding his arms and tilting his horn at a very slight angle. "I'm hardly surprised! I cut a formidable figure." Never mind that he still has a splatter of ink all over his beard with a distinctive half-eyehole-print in the middle of the mess.

He drops the pretense for this next part and taps fingers on his arm as for once he's careful how to phrase something.

"I think you're being quiet on purpose, which probably means I'm pushing it." He looks down at his counter and begins fiddling with board game pieces again, if only to give them both the dignity of not having to feel seen. "But I notice things, same as you - and I've a lot of time to think. There's not much I can offer you but to listen, but my shop's always open to you. Not sure I'm making myself clear." He sighs resignedly. "Probably not. S'hardly my strong suit."

Hardly. They think of you as fascinating story bug. Whether or not that should be taken as an insult (jokingly, of course, Greenhorn wouldn't quite know how to sling one even if they wanted) is on him.

I don't know. I do enjoy our conversations, but I'm still discovering how/what the "Lord of Shades" is. It isn't only me, and it has many new strengths and abilities I'm still in the process of learning. I've no few qualms discussing it, but wouldn't know where to even start.

He is almost very, very derailed by that first part. He glances up from the words to the Knight in a look of cautious disbelief, just for a second. He will unpick that later when he's alone with his thoughts again. He'd like it to be true, it's just hard to fight the immediate knee-jerk reaction otherwise.

The rest is... something. Maybe it's progress, even if his point hasn't quite sunk in.

"I think your... qualms would be justified with what I'm talking about," he says, somewhat strained. How can he possibly say this in the right way? "If I find anything useful to you in a text somewhere I'll certainly relay it. But that's not..."

Hmm.

Un-frilled truth it is. He'll just have to commit to getting himself in trouble for it.

"Allow me a few questions. I'll... make myself clear, and we can move on. When I upset you," he tries, nerves already beginning to fray. It's possible they'll be upset with him for this. Probable, even. "You fled. That wasn't the first time you've felt that way, was it?"

This is shakier territory they're wandering towards, the both of them. The Knight doesn't quite feel their hackles raise, but they're not sure what he's getting at.

Felt upset, or felt like choosing flight?
My instincts are often to attack problems, and you are not an enemy.

"...Hmnhh."

With that rather undignified noise Lemm pulls a hand down his face, ending up scratching thoughtfully at his beard. He certainly does not feel like they're on solid ground right now, but he needs to be clear. He's already started this off, can't back away and leave it half-explained or he'll make things very complicated indeed.

"That, yes - both, that's troublesome." He struggles for some wording that works, rather than what'll get him out of trouble. "You've sometimes looked like you couldn't steer it all, am I - am I imagining it?"

Concern, wobbling between them. Troublesome. Is Lemm concerned for himself? Or for them? No matter the case, he's now presented a question they can better answer.

No., you're not imagining it. My emotions do often ge reach a heightened state, and my Siblings compound some of them. I can still keep control enough to keep from wildly attacking but not every decision is made with a clear head.

As with all things: he is very bad at this. But he thinks he's starting to get it.

He gestures.

"That's - hard for you."

Is that enough? No, wait, he was making a point.

"You never talk about it. You should... ah... talk about it, I think. With someone." He catches the 'not me, someone else' before it can finish forming. Not this time. "If it'd help, I'd hear it." As with all of the things they tell him, or have ever told him.

Lemm accidentally knocks over a game piece he hadn't realised he was fiddling with. It's one of the more solid ones, and makes a far too loud sound against the board. He winces.

So it is concern for them.

...An offer given, to listen to them.

Rejection is the first urge. Urge with no thought behind it, and so they stay their quill.

He isn't...entirely wrong. He's read over some of their most upsetting history with the goal to hear more. For record alone, it's brought them to realizations and unlocked emotions they hadn't wanted to prod, or even considered they could. And now he's offering for more than his work. Concern for their own state, and the fact their next risen urge is to again flee says more than Lemm possibly could.

They don't exactly have many others to discuss it with. Perhaps Sheo and the Nailsmith, one day. Or, oddly, they next consider Ogrim, who they simply feel would share catharsis.

Though this could be fully wrong. These ideas are just that. Potential, possibility. They don't trust those ones yet, and may not ever. Lemm has made his missteps that weren't...terribly difficult to deal with, no matter how unfortunate they felt at the time. He knows what others don't, and has already gone through a list of assumptions.

--He'd probably like a response rather than a poleaxed stare.

They scribble out their next few words: I could. I don't know. yet. I'll consider it.

The silence is not a comfortable one. He doesn't dare look up, but he knows they're staring at him, he can feel it.

Pieces are fidgeted with and moved around. He is in strange, unfamiliar territory here, as he's often found himself in since committing to getting to know the Knight. The most he can do is wait for a response. There's nowhere to retreat to, anyway - they're in his home.

But the Knight said they knew there'd be problems, and that they believed they both could work through them. That is enough to keep him relatively still and quiet as he waits. It's something to ground himself with.

When the Knight eventually touches their pen back to the page, his attention is immediately on it.

"...That's all I... Yes." A sigh. "That's all. That's enough of that, I think."

The tension goes out of him. He had feared this would go much worse than it has. Time will tell if it was the right thing to say or not. His hands fold on his desk, and he looks away again.

"Urgh. I don't much care for the way that felt, and I'm sure you don't either. What a pair we make."

Edited 2022-12-05 21:31 (UTC)

They could just not do so. That's a bitter thought at first, responding to Lemm's seeming disgust. The Knight pushes it around in their mind until it's shifted into neutrality.

They could not, or they could. It's their choice. An offer on the table that shows Lemm...

...cares, put simply. Cares as they've come to care. Likely with as much claw-dragging reluctance to acknowledge it head-on. Almost certainly determined in the same event with the Lord of Shades furiously storming away and Lemm working to call them back.

Their choice. They have no need to try pouring their Soul onto the page. Not ever, not right now.

If only we could throw a Journal at ~~emot~~ stressful emotions.

At that, in a shockingly uncharacteristic show of over-acting, Lemm rests one elbow on the desk and turns in his seat to give them an expression so jaded it borders on dead.

"If only. Knight, if only that were the case," he emphasises, shaking his head.

He hopes they understand each other in some small, thin way. Dull humour might pull them back out of this rut.

Lemm gathers himself, smoothing down his beard and shifting a bit to take the theatrical look out of the way he's leaning on the counter.

"Failing that, you might always throw one at - Zote," yes, he remembers the name. "I'm sure that would make us both feel better."

The Knight is still, mildly taken aback, before they recognize the humor. It's a tactic they've used, after all.

The subject change is quickly leapt onto.

And they have the perfect addition.

It would be best to knock Zote around himself. I found him in the Coliseum once. Perhaps I should have chosen him as my easiest, but that'd be an insult to the concept of battle.

He did no damage and flew further than Millibelle.

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