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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From Relic Seeker to Mayor Lemm, I see.

They nod decisively, though they haven't any idea what to choose yet. The things destroyed are usually what they themselves have done, and are already repaired quickly...

Anything else in need of fixing specifically are objects they're blind to after seeing so much ruined. Perhaps they can simply request to meet them first.

"There's a niche for me, indeed!" he scoffs. What an absolutely laughable idea. Thank goodness they're both joking. "No, I'm quite happy with my shop, thank you. I'd never survive all the politicking, and neither would anyone else."

That does remind him, though...

"How's that been going for you? Last I heard you hated it, but I can't imagine what it entails in a place like this."

Mosaic immediately forgotten, they take a few irritated steps back into the doorway.

Queen Herrah needed the King of Hallownest to assist in altering old treaties with the Mantises the last time. I was glad to make things a little more tolerable. It was nonetheless incredibly dull and frustrating. I was more or less a prop.

I'm working to avoid more of that.

Lemm gives the room a final sweep. There's nothing here to interest him but the decor, though, and he really can't take it with him. He follows them to the door with one last appreciative look at the damaged mosaic.

The political intrigue... Suffice it to say Lemm is not a fan.

"Grave stuff! Maybe it shouldn't come as a surprise to me that any old treaties still hold at all..." It does, though. It's been a long time! The Mantis Tribe must be stalwart indeed. "I certainly don't envy you. Surely you can just tell them to sort it out?"

Diplomacy: not his strong suit. Do not make this bug mayor of anything.

It's hard to stay still when they're annoyed. They pace the wrong way for a few steps before they return to Lemm's side, continuing.

The Tribe made a deal with the ~~Pal~~ old King to defend against Deepnest's encroachment, which is unnecessary for the survivors with mind left. Leaving them to it would have meant further pointless death.

The Knight isn't eager to carry the more obnoxious or needless responsibilities of King, but they can't deny a private thrill at calling the Pale King the old King.

I don't believe there are others to worry about. but perhaps the Hive, which may have collapsed with their Queen long dead. Their relations with Deepnest seemed fair. That shouldn't require my interference in any case.

He can see they're agitated. Lemm keeps a closer watch on his words just to be safe. They said they hated this stuff, but it's different seeing the evidence of just how much.

Likely there's more about the workings of the City's relations with others in the Watcher's Spire, if anywhere - but he could never get in. Maybe now that it isn't crawling with infected bugs...? Lemm strokes at his beard thoughtfully.

"If you happen to need any records checking... Bah, I can't promise anything and you don't need me getting involved. But don't be shy of delegating." A huff. "I don't have the head for that kind of thing either, but if I can support you at all - ah, this isn't because you're King of anything, by the way. I already believe you a much better fit than the last one, but that has nothing to do with me."

That final clarification was wise, with how much bitterness they hold about the position.

It's just a favor being offered. A favor from a friend, even as he's cautious against too much involvement. Kind of him despite their not wanting to risk it. Politics are difficult, and hold danger less obvious than crumbling ruins or a possessed population.

Thank you.

Unsure what more to add--there's much they could, and most but some pleasure at better fit than the last would only further sour the mood--they simply offer that with a deep bow.

Edited 2022-12-20 04:18 (UTC)

"No need for that..."

Lemm awkwardly tries to take some of the ceremony out of it by gingerly pushing their paper away. He's glad they took him seriously, but it doesn't mean he's used to the acknowledgement.

"If all else fails you can tell everyone you're retiring." A scoff. "Just make sure you declare it." Do not vanish without a trace like some people he could mention.

It shouldn't get that far. They wouldn't allow it. Being a Lord of Shades should supersede the title of King, even if Knight can't. Gods are more difficult to boss about than even royalty. The Void is even more.

They glance at their paw. In the relative light of the hallway, the Brand is still near-impossible to make out. I don't know what might happen to this if I did. Soul spell nonsense.

"The Soul Sanctum might have something on spell branding, even I'd think the... old King's a bit outside of their scope. No harm in looking."

Soul spell nonsense as they put it has always been a bit... dense. Never seemed to make much sense or come together into something he fully understood. He'd try anyway.

"Would you miss it?"

A sensible suggestion.

Their paw flexes.

They don't care for it, still. They've gained enough from the Sanctum already, practical in harvesting the Soul drained from the bugs stolen from their lives. They don't need anything more from that place.

...They don't want to need anything more from that place. If it becomes a problem, then the Knight can swallow their pride.

No. It's a tool as a key is, and one I believe it's done most of what's necessary. I only have concern over where it might go, and who would recognize it. Most don't, but some have. Emilitia noticed a difference.

I don't know if it would go, to Hornet, to my sibling, even to Emilitia or another Hallownest citizen, or back to the Wyrm's collapsed corpse. I wouldn't care if I dropped it, and isn't too terrible to hold now. I've overcome worse complications.

Edited 2022-12-20 10:26 (UTC)

By the way they've phrased it - drop, hold, complications - they don't want it at all. He has suspected as much for a while.

Now is probably not the time to address that, if he wants to keep things light. But he can probably offer something nonetheless. A little light sarcasm to smooth things back out, first.

"Oh, well, if Emilitia noticed it! Yes, give it to her, and let's see what wins out: her ego, or her Pale King favouritism. If we're terribly lucky she'll just sit there praising herself for all time." You know, so... more of the same. (He has met her once. And once was enough.)

He's not saying a lot here, but it serves as good enough noise distraction that he's brave enough to reach out and gently pat their branded paw - a bit like one might encourage a friend to lower their Nail. They don't have to worry about this for now. Sorry he brought it up.

"No, it's safest with you, I suppose."

That's a horrible, amusing idea. Praise herself, and then likely get herself skewered by Hornet or Herrah should they ever meet, and then where would things be? (Probably not significantly worse.)

They curl their paw to catch his fingers for a moment. The Brand is a slightly more solid scar against their softer shell.

He stills. It's not a flinch, nothing so dramatic this time, it's just...

Maybe it will always take him a little by surprise. Despite this he doesn't deliberate much over taking their paw properly and giving it a reciprocal little squeeze. His thumb smooths lightly over the Brand, acknowledging it without any fanfare about what it is, and then he lets go.

They have some nerve, turning Relic Seeker Lemm soft like this.

"You really don't mind all that, do you?"

The King's Brand? They're not certain if that's what he means, or the holding of hands, and they're...wary of asking elaboration, if it could be the second. They're fond of being able to, and there's some dread that giving more attention could ruin it.

The King's Brand they're handling despite frustration. The hand-holding, minding comes nowhere near the truth.

In either case, answering through a dip of the head is honesty enough.

"...Good. Well, nor do I." Lemm gives a quiet half-laugh (nervous, but cheerful), fidgets with his bag, and does not elaborate. If his awkwardness doesn't clue them in to what he was really asking, they'll have to settle for it. A nod is good enough for him regardless.

He feels it's a companionable quiet as they work their way through the rest of the Grey Mansion, although Lemm occasionally pipes up with some remembered detail about Hallownest culture or an extrapolation of how Ze'mer might have spent her time. There are signs here and there that her earlier life was not spent in quite the same solitude as after her mantis lover was gone - sitting areas for more than just one, decoration that must have been gifted, more paintings of the Knights and the wider court.

Whether it's just for historical interest or not is not quite clear, but Lemm seems keen that her life be remembered.

So nerves are shared, if not for precisely the same reason. Lemm's the one who brought it up, after all. Or, for this, he's simply braver than they.

Whatever the reason, they follow him closely, occasionally reaching to tap the edge of his shell and gesture to things they believe might lead to interesting results, or related to the other Great Knights.

At one point they wander through a kitchen and find a pair of treats--a bluggsac (somewhat less orange now) with a rancid egg beneath the open sink, and a jar of genuine honey candy, helpfully labelled as such in oversized text. They offer Lemm the latter.

He wouldn't pay half as much notice to a fellow Relic Seeker. It's not so much about the knowledge the Knight might have as it is about just exploring alongside them, and seeing what interests them. Whenever they look for his attention, they find it immediately. He's clearly enjoying the company as much as he's enjoying the learning.

Well, he was.

"You cannot seriously be taking that. No, don't - urgh!"

Lemm finds himself taking a jar of orange-yellow candy, distractedly staring at a similarly-coloured-but-oh-so-nasty bluggsac and trying very hard not to make comparisons. His mind is not particularly helpful in this regard.

"I can't imagine what possible reason you'd want that thing, but keep it far away from me!" Lemm shakes his head free of unpleasant thoughts so that he can react properly. "I'm not much for sweets, but these... should still be good. Honey keeps, doesn't it? As long as the lid was closed tight - ah-?" What is that. Why are his fingers sticky oh no. Noooooo.

Lemm sets the jar clumsily on a counter and frantically casts about for something to wipe his hands on. An old washcloth is scrunched irritably at his hands and then wiped around the jar - then flung at the Knight's face.

...He still takes the jar, even if the action is accompanied by an accusatory glare at the Knight. This might be telling.

The washcloth flies true. It genuinely catches the Knight off guard, and it would've cost them a crack in their mask if it was something dangerous. Instead, they suffer only embarrassment as it slaps them directly across the eyes.

So. They might not've thought that completely through.

They pluck it off and halfheartedly toss it at his torso. It doesn't even make it all the way before unfurling and flopping sadly to the floor.

...And then they bend down to wipe their own claws off a bit before they write.

My apologies. I forgot how disgusting that is.

He relents as soon as he sees them writing. Maybe he's overreacting a bit. Maybe.

Also, he is still holding the jar, which... they did give to him. Can't forget that.

A sigh. Lemm shakes his head and flaps a hand at the Knight, waving off the apology note. "Never mind. I forgot these things don't seem to bother you! Unflappable unless I'm there to complain, it seems." ... That does put a spin on it, actually. Lemm's annoyance turns to amusement at least a bit. "Doesn't that say something."

Mindful that his hands are an acceptable level of clean, Lemm unscrews the lid of the jar and inspects a piece of the candy.

"Anyway these certainly smell better than that thing." A light cough. "Er, I didn't - did I? ...No, I don't think I did. Thank you," he offers them, sheepish. He looks like he wants to offer them one, but they have already told him they don't eat, so he just kind of stares at it for a moment. "Do you - have other friends who might-?"

What does that say, but how he can truly bring out the worst in them. Or perhaps the best. The most.

A brief pause of consideration before they dismiss the thought with a wave. Technically, yes, others might like it, but they gave that to Lemm. And even if they hadn't, they're feeling the slightest bit bad. The disgusting mess was a genuine mistake.

Besides, they can probably procure some from the Hive now that they've been reminded of honey being edible.

Lemm dips his head in recognition. Fine, then. His. Like the quill. For free, or else for the admittedly low price of getting a bit of gunk on his hands. Which he can accept, contrary to his momentary flip-out. He's honestly a bit surprised he managed to bean the Knight with a cloth at all.

...Because their guard is down, perhaps...? Ugh, Lemm will examine that later.

The jar is re-sealed and tucked into his bag with a betraying level of care, clinking lightly against his tools and the other piece of glassware. He will try some when he's home and there's no one to watch.

Lemm peers about the kitchen to satisfy his remaining curiosity. There's evidence of more decay here and there, but there's little beneath except for what he already knows: that Ze'mer was given privileges beyond most in Hallownest. Eventually he returns from investigating a dusty cupboard, looking mildly triumphant and stowing a small container of silverware polish in his bag.

He is reluctant to address this, but nothing can last forever.

"I think we may be able to conclude this visit, unless there's something you'd like to do first...?"

The resolve to find him more gifts later. Maybe more candy, if they can find it. Or continue with something that catches their eye. Lemm should have more gifts. They should try to get into his back room again and see what he doesn't have back there.

This on their mind, they stop their steps-behind shadowing by Lemm's side, staring thoughtfully at his bag.

The trip's been a success of multiple sorts. They can always do it again, to here or somewhere else. He and they have made enough promises to be careful; some of the itch of worry in the back of their mask has finally lessened.

I'd like to try prying one of those Delicate Flower lights/frames from by the greenhouse for us. Is this acceptable?

His bag is full enough of stuff. The problem:

Lemm has found little that would interest the Knight, but then he doesn't know them well enough to know what would. They don't eat, they don't sleep on anything he can easily give them (yes, he noticed) - they don't like to see things defaced (perhaps for different reasons than he does, which makes that a dangerous avenue) - they don't need anything he can glean from Ze'mer's old life. All he has been able to offer is chatter. Far less than enough to make him comfortable after a life built of transactions.

(But it's been - productive? Yes, but not in this context. It's been nice. It has been nice.)

Lemm glances at them half-aware, then quickly shakes himself into reading.

"Ah?" The - oh! Those. Lemm feels a pang of something that is familiar: wanting to have things. He finds himself calculating the Geo and instantly dismisses the numbers. Not today.

I take what I want and don't care if you do too. It's fine. Probably.

"Hrm." Another pause, but mostly superficial. And, very cautiously: "Yes..."

...That's a very uncertain-sounding yes; particularly coming from Lemm.

So they simply pause in the center of the kitchen to eye him for elaboration. If he thinks it foolish or unnecessary, they won't.

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