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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I'm stronger than I was and should not demonstrate inside. Later if you want to see.

They could ask the Lords. They could bring a list of questions from Lemm, as with Ogrim. It's possible they could get a response, though they might need to duel for one.

...Unless it's too much a secret, or taboo. The Traitor's Child didn't so much as get a name on her grave, and they can't imagine the Traitors being lucid enough to carve such a thing even if they were proud of their status. Unlikely.

The Knight stands under the hammock and puts a paw under it, to see if they feel anything inside. There only seems to be a weight of a pillow, or something similarly soft.

Edited 2022-12-10 12:28 (UTC)

"Eager to show off, are you?" He's teasing a bit. He'd be eager to watch, not that he expects to learn much outside of 'what the Shade Lord can do'. "Yes, I would."

Lemm doesn't hesitate before going in to scoop up a few letters. The Knight said they met her, and it could be considered a bit off for him to be going through her personal effects - but they led him here, and they knew he'd be interested. Any concerns about this are far from his mind.

"I'll say this for the Great Knight: her writing is a marvel to look at. Doesn't make translating any easier, though." He holds up his lamp and peers a bit closer at the pages he's holding. "Poetry...? Poetry... Poet- ah, no, this one's a letter. And she signed it, I think, but it's very smudged. Find me a clearer signature."

More eager to shake off their still-clinging tension, but that's hardly incorrect. They were already significantly pleased with their Dive and the Shriek. All of them, really. It would be interesting to see how they look from the outside, changed or not.

They nod and start checking. Being significantly smaller than Lemm--several of the papers are literally the size of their body--and not wanting to put them away, they make do with pushing the papers apart into somewhat-neat rows on the floor.

There is absolutely too much poetry. It's normal poetry to some with drawings of flowers and the King's symbol (cursed sign, even here?) to mushrooms of the Fungal Wastes around the edges. She was probably a better wordsmith than artist, though the Knight isn't one to understand the former, even when they can read the language.

Eventually--another letter, writing they can't quite read but seems clean enough. They lift it up sharply, enough to make surprising noise in the silent house. Look, does this work?

Lemm wanders among the paper, stooping to pick up anything that looks simpler at first. He is working very hard to pick this up as he goes. It's lucky he has the head for it - and he's helped a lot by reading so many different Hallownest dialects and having other references to draw on from his time before. There's a lot to work with despite her flowery language. He'll be missing a lot of nuance, but that's fine.

The Knight's letter is plucked out of their grasp, and he skips straight to the end.

"Le... Didn't you say she called you Le'mer? This doesn't make sense."

He squints a bit harder.

"Oh. My mistake! That's not what that symbol is. Ze'mer, I think. Great Knight Ze'mer."

Ze'mer. That seems...possibly right. As Lemm says, that sounds like what she called them. It could be a title of some kind? But Great Knight Ze'mer sounds more fitting as a whole.

...They might've been thinking this over for too long.

Ze'mer. I think that's right. It's been bothering me enough I'll keep looking to make sure.

It's hard not to interpret that as distrust in his translation ability, and they get a little bit of ire with this: "That's what it says."

Lemm is distracted reading through the rest of the letter, mostly just to prove he can. The syntax is a challenge. He thinks he's getting it, though.

"There are Mantis words mixed in here! No wonder I was having trouble. It's the script - makes it look wrong." He takes another pass. "This one's... a lament written after the fact. Never meant to be sent or exchanged, I shouldn't think."

A pause occurs from Lemm's annoyance. They thought he'd want to look at more of the Mourner's history--ah. Perhaps they shouldn't seem to doubt him.

Then it must be her name. It would be strange to give her late lover a title back.

Is that name there as well? She deserves more than the moniker of Traitor's Child. For at least someone yet alive to know. If they're thinking of their sibling as well as genuine sympathy for that one, it doesn't need to be said.

Lemm picks up another sheaf of notes that the Knight piled up. He skims these, too, and his tone is far less prickly this time.

"You're absolutely right. And if their courting was so frowned upon, I'd find some satisfaction in knowing, wouldn't you? Yet more of Hallownest's history someone tried to bury!" Not the Pale King this time, but apparently just as shameful in Lemm's opinion.

Scan for another name he does. Several times he thinks he finds one, only to backtrack and figure out from context that it means something vaguer like my love or turns out to be some floral pet name.

"I'll need time. So much of this is steeped in the frilly language of a lover I'm finding it exceptionally hard to - what does that mean." Lemm scrutinises one of the letters very closely, and rereads something several times. The paper is jerked away from his face very suddenly, and he looks scandalised. "Oh, you can't say that..."

Meanwhile, they continue putting the papers into neat rows. It gives them something to do, and will leave more places for both of them to step.

Their judgement of Ze'mer's poor drawing was possibly cast too early. Yes, many of them are questionable, but the shape of mantis' claws and not-so-Delicate flowers are better, more practiced.

The exclamation has the Knight pausing in their paper-pushing, looking up expectantly. It seems he's found something important on his own. Or at least attention-grabbing.

Alas, there could be a name in there. Lemm struggles to the end of the letter with the helplessness of someone who's already started a task and has little choice but to finish it.

He becomes abruptly aware that the Knight is looking at him, double-takes, and then flags the paper at them scoldingly.

"Now you be mindful what you look at in here! It seems Great Knight Ze'mer had an - an imagination." His eyes stray back to the page just to reconfirm what a couple of words seem to be implying, and then he just shakes his head. "Er - she called her something I can only take to mean 'fragile one'. Look for a symbol that looks like -" he almost shows the Knight the paper, thinks better of it, and manages to snatch up a different one instead "- this, here, the looping bit. It's likely anything with that symbol will be addressed to her, and we'll have better chances of finding a name."

The Knight cottons on quickly. It's one of those times where it's lucky for all parties they can't show amusement without intention.

Could she be calling her 'Delicate Flower'? That was what I was asked to bring to her. There are none in the greenhouse now, but the lights nearby look like them.

It would be a strange term of endearment for a mantis.

If they're right, perhaps that was the point. Traitors or tribe, they don't seem the type built for gentleness.

He compares the writing on both, distracted from the somewhat more romantic aspects of the text and zeroing in on semantics.

"...That could be it. But it's written as a single word in her mother language, and I've no hope of pronouncing it without a guide." He hums interestedly. "Could be it's the real name of the flower."

The Knight is as observant as ever, and Lemm is once again leaning on their prior knowledge. He actually doesn't mind it.

"I'd imagine it was quite strange. There's something to be said for the vulnerability," this is as tactful as he gets, because the text he's just read was implicit of a very specific kind of vulnerable, "and that could've been the point. Gah! Don't make me read into this. Skimming was enough."

The offending paper is slapped down on the end of Ze'mer's bed.

"Anyway wherever Great Knight Ze'mer and her flowers were from, it's nowhere I've been. Must've been quite the task for you if you cleared out the garden, though."

Edited 2022-12-11 18:54 (UTC)

They track the paper with a tilt of their head, faintly wishing they could read it. Flirty and smutty types of writing aren't that interesting, but Lemm's obvious disquiet leaves them wondering without wanting to push.

The last bit is enough to refocus them on a more comfortable topic for them both: annoyance.

They fell apart if anything hit me. Anything. I couldn't take the Stag, either. I believe I called them 'Delicate' rather than anyone else informing me a name. I was perpetually surprised there were any left after the dozenth try.

Edited 2022-12-11 22:14 (UTC)

Lemm can't help but be a little bit amused. Here is something the Lord of Shades couldn't do, he thinks.

"You had your work cut out for you."

(He can read that annoyance. Lemm has watched them write enough now that it's like picking up nuance in speech, and he thinks he sees them pressing just a little bit harder into the page. He's rarely picked up on this kind of thing in times past, but here they are.)

Lemm quirks his head slightly to one side in what might have been an amused laugh if he were the type, and just sets to wandering through the papers, peering down at them with one hand idly combing his beard, looking for a name.

"You managed, didn't you? I can't imagine what that would be like, but it says a lot about you, you know."

Maybe that's too far. They aren't a passage in a historical carving and he'd never think of stating his take-away understandings directly to any of the figures he's studied before. But it's positive? He hopes it's positive.

They take it as a neutral statement that isn't aiming to tease or insult, which is good enough.

Eventually. I believe it could say I'm painfully stubborn. The word 'painfully' isn't written with particular emphasis, but they're recalling the many, many times they slammed headfirst into thorns near their goal with vivid detail.

A step sideways, and a horn bumps against the hammock. They glance up and then, with far more impulse than consideration, flutter up and vanish down inside.

Painfully stubborn! Yes, he's sure they are - not least from the history they've told him. Anyway he likes that.

Tutting (though not negatively) at the sudden flurry of movement, Lemm quickly moves to steady the hammock before it can swing too much.

"What are you doing? If you've the aim to rest I'm not about to take the Great Knight's bed. I'll be going home."

They don't answer, because they can't and don't want to. Passing through the Village, every time, they wanted to jump in those hammocks. They never dared for risk of ambush or offense. They have no such worry now.

Even so, they actually find something of interest! They grab what they thought was a pillow and crawl their way up, presenting it: a plush blade, poorly-sewn but obviously meant to be either one of Ze'mer's greatnail or a full nail-lance. Strange, but charming.

Lemm continues to steady the hammock with one hand, just as a precaution. If they wanted it to swing, they're out of luck.

He angles his head away when they suddenly flail something in his field of view. He's used to their tricks. (This isn't one. They're just trying to show him something. He feels a little silly.)

"What's that?" He will peer at it, at least.

He's got little interest in such things himself. He'd likely recognise an obscure piece of Hallownest symbology much faster than he recognises plush toy. The acknowledgement comes late, and with little ceremony. It gets the same evaluation either way, as if the Knight had walked up to his counter with it.

"A novelty, it looks like. Some would give these to the young. I can't imagine what it's doing here."

It's probably made to swing. They still shouldn't, for the risk of pulling it from the ceiling. The knots appear somewhat flimsy, though that could be an illusion of the lighter fabric it's constructed of.

The Knight hangs over the edge at the top, looking not unlike a grub's toy themselves. Waving it a bit, they put the plush blade under their head to free their paws to write a couple crooked sentences. A charming/cute gift. Likely one of her was too complicated to make.

Lemm puts hands wherever will keep the hammock steady. The better they write, the better he'll read. Regardless it takes a moment for him to figure out what the point is.

"A symbol of... common interest." Said like someone who's read about this kind of thing second-hand.

Lemm just drumrolls his fingers against the soft edge of the hammock and pulls back. There is distinctly no response.

"Keep it if you want it, neither of them need it any more."

The plush blade hangs in the air as they think about it. It's true, neither of them will need it, or be any more offended than by their hop into the hammock. But it was a gift. A gift from one to the other. From which to whom, they can't be certain. The colors are light and fabric is rough.

They don't need this, nor do they genuinely want it.

It still feels a shame to leave it abandoned in this mausoleum.

I might bring it to her grave another time, the Knight decides.

At least that's a more dignified place to rot into fluff. For now, though, they drop the plush back to where it came.

Lemm is barely paying attention. Toys like that aren't really in his specialty, and the information he can gain from them is little.

He looks up from papers to acknowledge their note with a vague nod. "If you like. I can't imagine what good it'd do her."

...He really doesn't mean it harshly. If he did, he wouldn't be so nonchalant about it - Lemm is good at being outright scathing, but all this gets is an offhand comment.

"Ah, this poem references the other Great Knights in passing. Very much in passing." He shakes his head. "Passing enough to be useless. I'll keep looking."

I would have thought the same of the flowers I repeatedly died to give, but did it anyway for respect of mourning and brought peace to both lovers. It's worth trying. Lemm's intentions aren't meant to be insulting, but that being brushed off so easily irritates them, and they leave this paper to flutter off as they turn their attention elsewhere.

They jump down from the hammock to bounce on the bed. There likely won't be anything of the Great Knights, but perhaps they'll find something of her lover's name here...

He snatches it out of the air instinctively. He wasn't done! Rude of them to throw it. He scans it again, just in case he missed something.

...

He still doesn't... get why they're upset, exactly, but a little of the weight settles on him because he's seen how others react to... death, the dead, tributes to such. He can understand he's made a faux pas, and they're annoyed with him. That he recognises just fine.

...It's not that that's biting at him, though.

Eventually, after some poking around through papers with theirs still clutched in his free hand, he looks up and fixes the Knight with a piercing look.

"Were you being dramatic?"

There are many shapes they consider Delicate Flowers here. Those get set in their own pile, which quickly grows into multiple. A few are scribbled out so badly they can't hope to decipher a word no matter language skill, and those get their own to the side as well.

They unexpectedly discover a set of quills in a flat box hidden under one of the pillows, all fancy and long. They pull a particularly shiny rose-tinted one out to examine. Perhaps they'll keep a few of these.

After a few extra moments of blatantly admiring the writing utensils, they pause to stare in Lemm's direction. They don't think jumping from the hammock was particularly dramatic, though some of the papers on the bed's edges did flutter around quite nicely.

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