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 is lost in thought enough they need to skitter out of the way before Lemm climbs onto them.

The ink stains are coated in dust not too far a pigment from his natural beard. They consider showing amusement, but instead tip their head for questioning. They were tunnels. Particularly dark, narrow tunnels, perhaps, but not that odd compared to other parts of Hallownest.

When Lemm moves forward and gestures them along, they fall into step, just a little faster.

Once they pass through the entrance, it's as they remember, with a spot clear of dust on the floor they hadn't quite noticed. Whatever the Grey Mourner had been was more solid enough to be covered in dust herself and offer the necessary Flowers, yet disappeared without even Essence...maybe they'll find clues further inside.

Their gaze slides from the spot, over all the empty frames, to settle on what's most interesting to them: her absolutely massive Greatnail, in as terrible disrepair as their own began.

(A swell of disdain rises within. She should have taken better care. Theirs had been ruined through time and use. They allow the feeling a few moments and then delicately discard it.)

I checked the area for traps earlier. There doesn't seem to be anything, and it's empty of anyone or anything else.

Lemm takes a long, slow look around the entrance hall.

Where the Knight is having their own private discomfort, Lemm is just in plain awe.

He doesn't know where to start. If the Knight's information is true (and he believes wholeheartedly that it is, because the Knight has revealed much stranger in the time they've known each other) then he is standing in the foyer of the personal living space of one of the Great Five.

Lemm pauses only to register their note and give a quick, barely-acknowledging nod. (He may have skimmed it.) And he is drawn forwards, bordering on trancelike, to examine the Nail.

His hand slides down the flat of the blade with a soft metallic swish interrupted only by the cracks in the surface. He can't help himself. What battles it must have seen.

He steps back again to peer around himself again, taking in the metal details overhead, the ornate buttress support, the wide and sweeping staircase beyond.

Oh, he has forgotten that anyone else is even here. He is just staring around with his mind racing. Lemm turns and steps through the arch in silence, just quietly making his way deeper. He stops at the bottom of the steps and takes a turn in place, all the way around.

Don't mind him.

The Knight's attention is called to Lemm, and they watch his actions with interest. This place holds a mystery or two they have some desire to solve to settle personal frustration and curiosity. For him, it's something far, far more important.

They haven't seen him quite like this before. Even in the Temple and Egg, their own investment distracted them both. Here, he's free to be as awed as he wants. They'll follow his lead, Lemm's shadow now.

They never properly looked around. They hadn't even went further than the front after the Grey Mourner found solace, in quiet respect, and then never found reason to return.

It's even larger than it first appears. Mansion is correct. There are doorways every which way, on their floor and the one above. All dun and dull. They take a moment to brush their paw across a small decorative table in curiosity, and find little surprise when they end up with a clawful of dust.

The Knight's following footsteps are phased out. There are... moments.

His fingers trace something and then he'll pause, move his hand back, and track it again more carefully, because the texture tells him something of what it's made of or how much wear it took. The dust is flicked aside.

Small utility rooms that would attract no looter are stood in, turned about, have their ceilings inspected. Handles are tried. Curtains, untouched by the damp that pervades the City of Tears, are pulled out along rails and admired for their material and for their pattern. And there are papers.

There are papers, when he tries a door and finds a study. He dares not disturb them yet - the dry is as destructive as the wet, given time - but he runs fingertips along the front edge of a writer's bureau and stands there for a while.

He turns.

The Knight is standing there - because they've been following - and he almost jumps out of his shell.

It'd be a little more interesting to the Knight if they actually spurred him to talk, but that would mean breaking his concentration. That wouldn't be worth relieving a sliver of completely negligible boredom.

It's more fascinating to see what Lemm chooses, where he moves and what oddities he scrutinizes. They even place a claw or two on things he's shown safe to touch, though they get nothing out of it (but for a sense of inclusion). They do check for any unexpected threats around shadowy corners, but the most terrifying thing they discover are where bits of wallpaper peeled off to reveal some sort of mold.

The study, however, is something they want to see. They don't know what a Relic Seeker does about paper preservation, and watch expectantly for when he'll pick up any of the writing for them to take a glance at.

Instead, he reveals he's actually forgotten they're around.

They offer a light wave. Yes, greetings, they're still here, as loose guard and no-longer guide.

His hands find the edge of the bureau again, behind him this time, just to steady himself.

With his face angled to the ceiling, Lemm lets out a relieved sigh and drops a hand from his chest. He tries to gather his wits back up as he meets the Knight with a much more level gaze.

"Ah... I've gotten carried away, haven't I?" The moment is smoothed over with all of the usual dismissiveness - and something brighter, too, like when they sold him a particularly rare relic but heightened. "It's a fascinating place you've led me to! I'll need time to go through it, but I- we should take a more cursory pass first." He gestures to the study door. There's a lot more to see.

The truth is that he is used to being surprised much more unpleasantly. The truth is he has always done this alone. The truth -

Relic Seeker Lemm is vastly relieved to see the Knight standing there, and the sharp adrenaline fades into a dull, warm blanket as he reminds himself how he got here and who he's with.

The historical lecture will start soon enough, but right now it's a little impeded.

Edited 2022-12-08 00:31 (UTC)

They don't give that much response. Yes, he did get carried away, and they don't at all mind. He doesn't seem to mind much either. He's far above pleased.

It's a pleasant thing.

He's in the lead here, but first they hold a paw up for attention. They decide against outright jumping up onto the writer's bureau, but they do point insistently at the edge of the papers they can barely see.

Does any of that have her name?

With the reminder that he is here with someone Lemm galvanises quick.

"Ah. I'll look..."

His nerves are wrought around this, suddenly, that he might use what he knows...

He turns back and scans what's present fervently, in case anything left laid about might contain what they're asking. The handwriting is unfamiliar; the untranslated even less. This was someone from far afield, and nowhere Lemm has been. And in her own home, this Great Knight hardly thought to refer to herself. Forbidden laments written after the fact, even less!

Unsatisfied, Lemm shakes his head and turns back. He'd have to go over every one, and everything in the drawers, and he does not have the delicate tools to handle the crumbling papers because he has never had to pack for this since reaching the kingdom.

"Nothing." Ah. He is apparently- "Sorry. There's scarce here not written in her home's speech, and I don't have the means to work through it so fast... Maybe we'll find clues elsewhere?"

Of course. Why would a study full of writing have a name. They were truthfully expecting to find flowery letters of lament to her lover--whose name the Knight also doesn't know, a fact that only comes into sharp focus at this precise moment. No, that would be too easy. For all they know, those are just that, but not in Hallownest's writing. They've read more romances than only Bretta's. A foreign language would work well as code between a Great Knight and a Mantis, traitor's child or no.

They dip their head and step aside. Yes, perhaps elsewhere, and Lemm can again lead them where elsewhere he'd like to go.

There are absolutely flowery letters of lament, and Lemm is partly aware from context and what little he's managed to parse. The thing is they're all on top of each other, and when he tried to lift the edges of one the paper looked too fragile for his liking. Lemm has only scanned the topmost layer, and with very little immediate familiarity with her writing or cant. He's wary of damage and there's so much still to cover...

He is unaware of just how much this matter is bugging the Knight. As far as Lemm's concerned they'll get a name eventually. Delving into the text is for after they're done with a first pass.

At least he's more aware they're there, though, and this spurs him to start up talking again as they explore. (He is only faintly aware he's leading.)

"Did you see the embossed ceiling? Look at that." He points at one of the metal adornments over a supporting arch, spiked crown motif and all. "Idolatry, even here! The builders couldn't help themselves. All of it's masterwork, though, look at the detail..."

Lemm halts in front of another arch, this one leading to a short hall towards the back of the Mansion. Pale buttresses give way to an arched ceiling, the sides decorated with twin vases that don't seem to contain anything. There's a faded curtain at the end.

"It smells like Greenpath, do you notice that? Oh, look there - those sconces on the walls..."

Said sconces might be familiar to the Knight, given that they look like Delicate Flowers with a glass lumafly lamp resting on the petals. They'd be beautiful if they were still silvery, but the air's a bit more damp in here and they've tarnished badly. Lemm is obviously in love with them.

The Knight nods in all the proper places, though the first is less than enthusiastic. Idolatry, even here. Well before they'd known truths that were personal, they'd looked at the symbols, understanding their royal connotations from the way through King's Pass. They were unimpressed with the amount of it packed through Hallownest's whole.

They, too, like the flower-lights. Their Nail-paw itches to shatter the glass as they do most others, and they hastily move ahead. Perhaps they'll take one. Or offer to take one on the way out.

The smell of Greenpath doesn't reach them as any smell can't, though they nodded to it, but they've got an idea of what's past here already. The greenhouse had been distinct.

It's a large room, full of glass panes that would let in sun if there were any. Instead, the center of the room has a circle of stones that glow greenish-blue.

There are trellises and other ornate pieces near the glass walls, all covered in dead vines and sad piles of leaves. The empty dirt is peppered with pipes that stick straight upward, most rusted over.

The plants that do live are growing best in circles over dirt near the odd stones, cracking through the edges of the path into sharp-stone gravel. Most are overtaken by grasses native to Hallownest, though odd plants with curved leaves and the orb-shaped pinkish flowers peek through. There are no Delicate Flowers; the only white ones that exist here are far taller, non-glowing with hanging petals twice the size of their body.

The Knight deliberately stops beneath one of those drooping flowers, tapping the white with their horns. It doesn't try eating them. They didn't think so, but after many surprises in Greenpath, they thought it better to check before Lemm gets near.

There's a bench near the back, with an entire feather that reaches near the ceiling from where it was stuck into the floor directly behind it. They're going to sit there in a moment, after poking the flower a bit more. It's soft.

Edited 2022-12-08 18:16 (UTC)

Lemm manages to drag himself away from the light fixtures and past the curtain, letting it fall behind him with a soft swish.

"Well-travelled," he mutters to himself. Then, louder, because he remembers again that he's not the only person he can talk to right now: "She was well-travelled. I wouldn't think any of this is from here..." He wanders forwards.

He examines the standing stones and the plants that still find success around them. He understands very little of plant cultivation, but he turns to see the Knight fiddling with one of the flowers and his lack of expertise doesn't feel very notable.

These flowers don't seem to be spitting plumes of toxicity or doing any biting. There is an urge to make a nuisance of himself.

While they're preoccupied a hand comes out and applies a little force behind the pliable stem. The plant bends with a little effort, and the flower clumsily dips over the Knight's head like they're the pendulum of a stag bell.

They flail wildly. The flower is lucky they heard Lemm crunching over the ground first, or it would've gotten a much more lethal shredding. They duck from underneath and swat it in Lemm's direction with their paws, which doesn't do all that much but make it sway.

They take a few steps away and pull out their paper to confirm. She had a strong non-Hallownest accent. Called me "le-mer" and herself "che". The flower she requested I deliver was from the far place she came from. "Lands serene," the White Lady said.

Unfortunately, they remember the White Lady's words more than particulars of the Grey Mourner's accent. The Grey Mourner's quest was frustrating. The Lady's refusal of that gift was insulting.

He snickers at the result he gets. Yes, they're a warrior, and their instincts are sharp, but on the other hand they are very small and that was exactly as funny to him as he'd hoped it would be.

Lemm lets the stem go, and it pulls back up to its natural shape without much fuss. He smooths over his mean streak and comes to peer at their words.

The specifics of the dialect are repeated under his breath, seeing if they'll ring any bells once he says them. Nothing of the sort, unfortunately.

"Lands serene... I've no knowledge of anything like that, but I've seen these before." He pats the stem of the tall flower. "From what I'm told, there are sudden forests of them when the cold recedes. She's from places much less stagnant than Hallownest, this Grey Mourner."

Each Knight seems different from the rest. of Hallownest's people. The ones that survived/existed long enough to encounter for myself, at the least.

Observation delivered, the Knight wanders over to the oddly-standard bench, pausing to examine the feather. Excepting the Radiance's strange scales looking so much like them, it's been a time since they saw one of these.

It looks like a structure trying to hold up the ceiling, enough to nearly overlook. They run an absent claw over the remaining bristles' edges, feeling them shiver and spring back into place, watching the dull brown shine an iridescent green when caught up in movement by light.

"Hm. Maybe they all were. Foreign, I mean. The King drew attention from all over, it wouldn't surprise me."

He lingers on the flowers a moment. They tell him little of what he'd like to know, but that's no reason not to appreciate something.

The feather gets much more of a reaction, though. Lemm follows the Knight to it, watching their cursory investigation with something similar to dawning horror.

"It's a formidable thing to have a trophy like this. This sort of thing would be why they titled her a Great Knight." He steps back a bit so that it's easier to see the thing all the way to the top, and shakes his head in disbelief. "I'd dread to see the shape of the thing that shed it. Reminds you why they didn't build Hallownest on the surface, eh?"

...His eyes stray to the bench. And then to the Knight. He waits expectantly.

They abruptly recall the name of Pilgrim's Way, and the specific welcoming to unknown Higher Beings that they reluctantly appreciate in informing them the name of their Focus capability.

Hallownest allowed in many. Even at its worst, the corpse lured in travellers. This thought, paired with Lemm's admiration for the smallest of details of when the kingdom thrived, leaves the Knight with an uneasy sort of melancholy.

They sit, absently scooting to the side after a moment. They'd rather stare at the flowers than consider it.

He knew it! Lemm does not know the full extent of why they like sitting down, but it's not the first time they've beelined for a place to sit and he sees no practical reason to stop here - he can chalk this up to a habit thing.

No practical reason, but there are plenty of other reasons. Lemm shrugs off his bag and eases himself into the seat beside the Knight, allowing himself some time to take in the scenery.

The Grey Mourner would have lingered here herself; maybe she and her lover both, time and chance allowing. This garden was made for companionship, and in the end for memento. It would have been beautiful when it thrived under the care of a Great Knight in her prime.

Lemm sighs wistfully.

"It's a shame this place is going to ruin. I've no skill with gardening to save it, and it's too out of my way." Not everything has to be about historical significance. Sometimes it really is just a shame.

They tilt their head a little to look at Lemm from the corner of their vision. They could add this to their list of goals...but too, it's out of their way as well, and their wandering attention won't be enough for permanent upkeep.

The life in the center still endures. If they lasted until now, I think they'll last a while longer.

After, their thoughtful stare moves between the shimmering light in the center to the pipes. There doesn't seem to be a way to turn them on directly on each...

"Maybe." He's dubious. If there's one thing making itself clear in Hallownest, it's that nothing stays in stasis forever. "I don't know how they've managed this far..."

His gaze too lands on the pipes. He noticed them when he came in, but he'd assumed they were broken. If that isn't the case, then the Grey Mourner may have turned it off herself.

What that says about her intent for the garden actually bothers Lemm very little. The dead are dead.

"...You don't think there'll be a switch somewhere, do you?" He rises, already hunting for one.

They've picked up a thing or two about gardening in their life, and file away another thought about taking some of these plants to Greenpath. It's likely they'll just die if they try, but perhaps it would be worth the attempt.

They hop off a moment after Lemm does, darting through the foliage (even the smallest plants are taller than they) to examine the center first.

The Knight finds no switch or button, but they swing the Dream Nail over the stones, finding they're suffused with a gentleness and words they can't hope to transcribe. They take a moment to tap a claw over each before reemerging. It accomplishes nothing, but feels right.

Lemm instinctively searches the edges of the room, encouraged by the Knight seemingly approving of this course of action. When he finds nothing, he turns to tracking what little of the pipes he can see; maybe if he can figure out where they lead... No, they go straight into the floor, that's not helpful.

He raps one with a fist, and isn't sure if he hears a faint creak. All things considered it doesn't matter if a few plants die off in an abode no one uses, but it looks like both he and his travel companion would prefer if they lasted a bit longer.

"What've you found, little guide? Anything at all, or do we resort to your specialty?"

They shake their head but point back. No luck on activating the pipes, but the rocks are interesting. The Knight touched them, so it's unlikely to damage Lemm if he tries the same.

Though they stop and stare in confusion they forget to express. Specialty?

...Their Nail? They can cut through the dead mess to search underneath, they suppose, and wander back to the outer area to try.

He follows what they're gesturing at, and nods. In a moment, then. He rises and dusts himself down a bit.

They are... almost correct! "Oh. Back here. I was thinking more along the lines of... ah..." He makes a solid gesture of thunking a fist down into his other palm. "Why don't you try giving one of these a whack with the flat of your Nail? You've a knack for that kind of thing, and it can't hurt if they're already broken."

Lemm could probably try this out himself if he took out one of his heavier tools, but - they're always hitting things, and here is an opportunity to hit something. Why would he do it?

They're already swiping through layers of leaves and clear up around a full trellis for the sake of completion. This takes a few moments longer than they thought it would; there's a great amount leaves that hadn't been cleared up, and some of them had gotten rather grimy. Lucky their Nail doesn't let that sort of thing cling anymore. Pale Ore has fascinatingly helpful properties.

Right. They go to the nearest pipe and thunk it.

Thunk again.

A third time, and a spray of water bursts forth enough to hit them in the face disconcertingly hard before slowing to an inconsistent sputter.

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