voicetest the voiceless

[focusedvoid]

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.

Comments

[focusedvoid]

--Now? They stop and peer up at him for a while, somewhat dubious.

...Still, it isn't a particularly threatening area to traverse, even with some sort of headache.

I have nowhere to be currently.
That's not completely the case. I gladly choose your company over Herrah's politicking. Light teasing while offering a truth.

[capitalcurator]

He snickers.

"That's who's been politicking you?" This comes easy. He remembers every word, after all. "The thought of her is daunting, I'll admit - but I'll face her for you if you need an excuse. I'll tell her you're busy." Please do not ask him to do this thing he just offered. He is hoping very hard it will not leave this room.

...

Oh!

The sudden little knock of now, do they mean now? has him rising from his seat eagerly.

"I can pack a bag, if haste's the word." He hopes so. He feels far younger than he is right now at the thought of it.

[focusedvoid]

That's a much, much stranger image than Lemm and the Troupe. Herrah may or may not be taller than Grimm, but she feels like a much larger presence, for all she's not part of a Higher Being. A Journal striking her seems it would do nothing but summon her Greatneedle, and in the realm of fantasy, imagining Lemm skittering through the wild halls and startling the tinier creatures with his beard is rather amusing.

Ah, he's excited. That's a better sign. The Knight shifts from their awkward lay into a crouch (still nearly as awkward). If you like. If you need rest first, I can wait. Perhaps mind the shop in your stead.

Don't agree with that, Lemm, they have no memory what the formula is outside Wanderer's Journals and King's Idols.

[capitalcurator]

His fingers stray across the head of their paper as he reads their words sideways and quickly shakes his head.

"I'm rested, as I told you..." and oh no, no no. "I won't have you hanging around in here, no. This is my place of business and you'll have everyone thinking it's a community effort! No. Wait for me."

Lemm disappears into the back, but it won't take him long. He keeps his bag packed very carefully, and just tops it up with supplies now and then - though they can probably hear him hurriedly going through a few things just in case.

When he re-emerges with his bag grasped in one hand, he lifts it into the air a bit semi-triumphantly with a fabric-muffled clatter of tools. He does not make a move to sit back down. Yes, he is willing to go right now. Is that so strange.

[focusedvoid]

They decide against mentioning his shop is, technically, community effort as it is. They've sold him plenty relics he wouldn't have had any chance of reaching, and they're not alone in that.

He'll find the Knight standing on the counter's edge, bemused. Even with the excitement, this amount of hurry wasn't expected.

It occurs that Lemm is, more likely than not, restless.

They can hardly blame him. This is a small shop in a dull city, no matter how fascinating its collection of minutiae. A good wandering is needed. They should...try to stop by more often, or at least try charting a way that could be long enough for camp for a later route.

If he wants. They're getting ahead of themselves. Practice, de-rust, Grey Mansion.

They dip their head and stow their quill, hopping down. Now, then.