the knight (
focusedvoid) wrote in
boxfullofzeroes2022-10-31 05:57 am
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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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"Wh - from an academic standpoint, yes!"
He flicks one of their horns in retribution. They'll always find it easy to get a rise out of him.
"Don't tell me you've got an interest in this kind of thing! What are you teaching those siblings of yours? I've half a mind to blindfold you on our way out."
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Scientific interest. There's nothing wrong with anatomy lessons.
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"You'll find a rare few of those here! If it's not abstract, it's heavily exaggerated!" He cannot help a glance back at one of the more gymnastic-looking paintings. "...I assume," he adds faintly, and then abruptly snaps out of a staring contest with it. "Regardless! Stop provoking me or I'll drag you out of here and see you cooled off by the greenhouse sprinklers!"
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In any case, they bow comically low after that and hop down before he can try flicking them again. That's enough of this room, they think.
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Lemm is quick to move with them, and attempts to pretend to keep his eyes down on their way out... but it's not his fault the ones with the detailed dicks are the most telling of sculpting style and use the unusual paint pigments. Sometimes history is just like that. Passionate people making passionate art with excessive, outsourced materials (and usually for Geo, which he can respect).
He thinks he recognises one of the still-life models from a painting in the Royal Quarter. Lemm pauses in front of that one just long enough to catch a signature in the corner, and snickers to himself as he falls back into step.
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I wonder if we might find something scandalous about Monomon or Herrah next, they ponder in the hall.
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He pushes open another door. This room is in total darkness, and the dust is swept up a little with the opening of the door, but he reaches for his lamp and crosses to the window to pull open another set of curtains. Even a little ambience from outside is enough to tell them what they're looking at.
"Aye, she was a lucky bug," he sighs.
It's a wet room, with a large built-in step-down basin in the middle surrounded by burnt-out candles. The water damage has not been kind to anything in this room and most everything is streaked with black mould, but once it would have been considered a pretty extravagant display of wealth. There's mosaic in here. And to have it upstairs? Unthinkable.
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They hold up their own lumafly lamp, somewhat impressed. They don't know all the ins and outs of the implications, but that this is a room and not a direct hot spring obviously speaks of significant wealth.
The mold is observed. The mural is also observed, as little of it as is possible.
Hmm.
I could strike some of this with a spell. Maybe I can clear it off a little. They'd thought about not risking it, but they do think they have enough control to keep it to the mess and not punch through a wall in damage. It should be fine as long as Lemm keeps well back.
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Wait, but didn't they say not in enclosed spaces.
"...Are you sure?"
He is already backtracking to the doorway, just in case they're more enthusiastic than predicted.
wow i didn't get ANY alert for this one cool cool cool
They turn away from the mural to a random corner with significantly less detail and blast a Shade Soul in its direction.
It was intended to be a Shade Soul, at least. The actual spell bursts with far wider range than prior, quadruple narrow eyes on the front, throwing out wild tendrils to catch and drag in every direction as the Knight jolts back in surprise.
A path is torn through the mess. Motes of mold drift through the air. Some of the loosest tile beneath's cracked off. Still less damage than it looks like it should have done.
'_' alert email lost in the space time continuum
Good thing too, it seems - he feels it in the floor, flinching back and instinctively throwing arms up in front of his face just in case as the view into the room explodes into black for a moment. He swears he saw thrashing limbs for a moment...
Lemm warily creeps close enough behind them to peer over their horns at the result, his hands settling on their shoulders as if to steady them or reassure them he's still intact. Or maybe just because - wow?
"You're never doing that in my shop." This hardly means a thing - he sounds impressed.
e~e not even just email, here too. guess dw got clogged up for a bit :I<
They lightly shrug a little, only to nudge their tiny shoulders into his hands more comfortably as they write. Is it reasonable for clearing the mural?
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He isn't thinking much about what he's doing, which is probably why his hands stay where they are - Lemm just kind of takes the Knight with him when he steps forward, steering them in front of him as he draws closer to the mosaic.
One hand does leave contact briefly as he runs a hand over the mural, picking at the edges of bits of mosaic just to see if anything is likely to chip off. The mural is water-themed, that much is obvious - but the details are lost under a layer of muck where condensation has given way to streaks of black stuff and then dried. Still, it's sturdy enough. Lemm glances over to the area of the room that the Knight has already blasted. It's... cleaner, definitely...
He eyes the cracked tiling. Calculated risk time.
"Can you do it smaller, d'you think?"
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Spellwork is Soul that they've changed into Void, as far as they can tell. They now have much control over Void as a whole.
...However, it's fast. Not as fast as a Nail-lash when they're particularly aggrieved, and they've plenty of control over that, but they've been using their blade for lifetimes longer. Simply downsizing such a speedy spell they're also accustomed to simply allowing it to stretch as it will might not be as easy as that, or as packing their self into their shell.
I'm not sure. I can practice over the rest of the room first? or/and I could try to scrape it away. Though that would take rather longer.
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He peers up at the mosaic and considers how much he'd mind if it broke. It's not like he'd be able to take this back to the shop, so its value to him as a reference or as a show piece is moot. And the Mansion is so out of the way - and it's going to ruin without someone living in it, anyway... Does it matter so much if it breaks now, or rots off the wall later?
He hums faintly. In truth he'd already decided, but he's more sure than he was.
"I'm not pushing you, Knight - I just want to see what you can do, if I'm honest with you." He pats their shoulders with finality. "S'not so odd to find spellwork a bit of a novelty, is it? I'm sure you're capable."
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The rest of it, though, gets an upswell of pride, alongside an uncharacteristic thrill of bashfulness they immediately try shaking off like an obnoxious cobweb. Lemm just wants to see them try, more than wanting to guarantee a thing like this last a little longer. The Knight cares less about it than that.
It seems mold is one of the only foes I'll have the chance to show it against now.
So long as you stand somewhere behind me, you should be fine.
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...Oh. Lemm registers suddenly that he's laid hands on them and lifts them away, folding his arms instead and stepping back to give them space. He doesn't remember doing that. No one told him off.
"I'll be safe enough back here, won't I? Let's see you have at it."
He wishes he had some advice, but Lemm has never really asked too many questions about spells. What he has clarified is that the Knight has trouble with keeping a clear head. So:
"You'll be fine," he offers, casual as anything.
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They'll be fine. They'll make sure of it.
Stepping back for better aim, the Knight--no, that's Focus, attempting to pull too much in. They spend a short time outwardly doing nothing, internally doing the equivalent of staring at their Soul. They'd never considered the actual conversion aspect. They had spells, and then their spells were stronger. Unless Ze'mer has a Shaman hidden in her basement--
--well, she does. In the tunnels beneath. They've already found a Charm by that one.
They'll be fine, they remind themselves.
The stronger Shade Soul bursts forth and--stutters in front of them as they try to pull it back into a weaker state. It moves through the air at a fair slower clip than usual, the new tendrils it has streaking behind itself similar to the previous version rather than reaching out.
It tears a significant streak through the mess even so.
A handful of tiles crack and scatter to the floor.
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What happens is damage, and he can't say he's that surprised. In the aftermath there is a swathe of clean tile (flowers, sitting on a lake of some kind?) with a little crack of missing pieces down the middle, and Lemm finds himself instantly spurred to do damage control.
Not on the mosaic, though. He will attend to that in a moment.
"That looked more orderly than the last one, eh?"
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A tendril from wing sneaks out to pick up a few tiny tiles for their examination. Some are remarkably whole. Several...are not.
Still a spell more for combat than cleaning, I'm afraid.
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"Pah! For now. You've only to practice and I'll have you doing all my work for me." A joke. He likes the work of cleaning up relics. Still though.
Satisfied that they're not expecting him to be upset with their result, Lemm gives himself a full view of the mosaic from where he is and then joins them closer to it again. He takes one of the tiles from their tendril to save having to bend down and peers at it.
The image as a whole seems to be of a particularly serene pond or lake, blooms similar to Delicate Flowers floating on its surface. It's mostly in shades of grey like the rest of the mansion, but in places there are subtle hints of pale blue where the water reflects, and soft green around its edges.
It is a shame about the broken bits, but... not enough to bring up.
"I wonder if this was somewhere she knew well? It's certainly no Blue Lake."
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Truthfully, they wouldn't care terribly much if Lemm requested that. Acts some might find insulting or degrading are just another action they can choose for politeness' or their own entertainment's sake. For a while, at least.
They still don't plan trying this particular method much further.
I can't decide if amount of Delicate Flowers might be genuine, or from Ze'mer's taste to put them in places she finds particularly pleasing.
After a moment of reflection, the Knight sets the tiles down in a careful pile by one of the burnt-out candles. An offer of some respect to none after the damage caused.
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Ah, Hallownest. It's not often a place has the resources to let its inhabitants lounge about making art all day. Survival took a back seat for a while - at least for its citizens, even if things were going terribly wrong behind the scenes. He's really quite the lucky Relic Seeker to witness the artistic results.
Smut galleries notwithstanding.He is wrapped up in that thought when he glances over at the Knight, and it takes him a moment to register what they're actually doing. 'Considerate little stray' indeed. Maybe the accidental damage bothers them more than he thought.
"It might be fixable with some mortar, I imagine," he muses. "Not that I have any, nor the intent to come back any time soon." Not the point! The point is it's fixable. That's all.
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If only I could carry it back to your sh-- pause, midsentence, as they realize they potentially do as they're thinking. The Lord of Shades could probably rip through the Mansion enough to take part of a wall. --your shop without destroying all the rest.
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"Ah, no - we won't be punching any holes in the wall of a Great Knight's abode today!" A light laugh, and he waves the thought off. "Besides that, it sets a precedent that I might be able to get this kind of thing home. I've got to draw the line somewhere, or I'll end up with all of Hallownest in my shop."
Lemm considers the other possibility, one that's been on his mind for a little while.
"D'you think that mystery fixer takes maintenance requests?"
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