focusedvoid: (shade of you)
the knight ([personal profile] focusedvoid) wrote in [community profile] boxfullofzeroes2022-10-31 05:57 am

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.
capitalcurator: (take off the defender's crest)

[personal profile] capitalcurator 2022-12-23 11:14 am (UTC)(link)
He nods. Yes, he can keep quiet.

The obvious thing would be to ask about Myla. That's what a sensible bug would do. His gaze traces back to her for a moment, then he sighs softly and shakes his head. He wouldn't even know where to start.

Don't know if I can help with her. Are you hurt? What happened?

More hesitation, then. There's more to this than just asking questions. He already offered this in his letter, but there's no harm in clarifying a bit:

The mapmaker told me you've been shut-in. If there is anything either of you need or would like I will bring it for you. I don't know what else. Not usually a visitor.
Edited 2022-12-23 11:15 (UTC)
capitalcurator: (this isn't a museum)

[personal profile] capitalcurator 2022-12-23 06:45 pm (UTC)(link)
He is visibly relieved. Cornifer's relayed concern that they'd been injured somehow had been sitting in the back of his mind like a thorn, even if they didn't look it at first glance. The Knight doesn't look a lot of things at first glance. (He doesn't know what he'd have done if they had been hurt, but that's not important right now.)

Lemm just nods at the rest.

Take all the time you need, or tell me nothing. I didn't come here to make you think.

Lemm turns the paper. Then he casts about for somewhere to wait, but... well.

After a moment's deliberation he just finds a space by the wall and slides down. He is feeling awkward enough already in someone else's home. Taking the floor just feels like a polite concession at this point.

He splits his stack of paper and sets half aside, dipping a horn at it just in case. He actually only brought any on the chance the Knight might be running short, but it seems he'll need some himself. (Yes, the map shop is right there. Lemm would personally not be in the mood to go there for something so trivial if things were this bad. This has been privately considered.)
capitalcurator: (...)

[personal profile] capitalcurator 2022-12-23 08:14 pm (UTC)(link)
It's easier than expected to temper his nerves and wait. The overthinking beforehand, and the journey here (ugh, that ride), and then the unplanned meeting with the Dirtmouth elder... All of this had him wound very tightly indeed, but with the Knight safely in front of him now it's not so difficult to be patient. He fiddles with his paper and pen and keeps his eyes down. Wouldn't do to look at Myla, or the strange thing beside her. Wouldn't do to rush the Knight. Lemm does nothing.

When they settle nearby he perks up; but from their little distance it's not like he can hover like he normally would, and anyway for once he'd be conscious of it. He instead opts to keep his gaze averted. Nevertheless it is obvious that this makes them quite uncomfortable - he doesn't have to look directly to catch that their posture shifts.

When they're done, he takes their writing and gives it his full attention...

(He is slow, this time. There is no skimming.)

...The paper is settled on top of his, and Lemm looks up into the middle distance, processing.

He glances down just to confirm his understanding of events. And then he sets their paper down between them both, and writes. Lemm's expression is unreadable. It is not a particularly long note.

His paper is placed quietly on top of theirs, and he sighs softly and sinks back against the wall.

"Not every decision is made with a clear head."

I'll forgive you for forgetting [mind wanders], but you told me this yourself.

You look like you feel terrible.
capitalcurator: (take off the defender's crest)

[personal profile] capitalcurator 2022-12-23 08:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Lemm shakes his head quickly. His writing is a little more frantic, suddenly.

Steering trouble (twice underlined, and he flags this part of the note at them before continuing.)

Would it surprise you so much to hear

Now I see why you cross so much out. very difficult to write off the cuff

Is it strange or offensive to say


Lemm pauses, abandoning lines and not bothering to obscure them. He scratches at his forehead with one finger and tries one more time, clearly struggling.

I can't help you understand how to fix this currently / I don't know what you did either. You are not the only one to ever have this problem it just seems you have it on a larger scale     do you understand?

Look at me


He lifts his pen, thinks about writing more, and staves that off for now. The paper is placed in the same spot between them.
capitalcurator: (take off the defender's crest)

[personal profile] capitalcurator 2022-12-23 09:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Lemm is also frustrated. It is, for once, handled.

He does not write this time. His empty hand is extended over the papers between them, and he makes a small beckoning motion with it while he watches them closely. The hand holding the pen stays itself over the page on his lap.

He will continue when he knows they're... staying present. That is one way to put it.
capitalcurator: (Default)

[personal profile] capitalcurator 2022-12-23 09:47 pm (UTC)(link)
He recognises that reluctance. There is a familiar tension to the way their paw curls and the shape of their thoughts holding them still.

Lemm gently shakes his head. He decides this will not be a lesson the Knight will learn. Not here, not from him. Not when they've been teaching him otherwise. He's lived far too long with that one to pass it forward.

He is slow, but purposeful. His arm aims to slip around behind the Knight and rest a hand on their shoulder.
capitalcurator: (Default)

[personal profile] capitalcurator 2022-12-23 10:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Lemm... nods. Just that. Yes, of course they're afraid.

The best he can do is be steadfast, and he couldn't even do this if they hadn't been so patient.

He trusts wholeheartedly that they will not bring him to harm. It is no longer because of the note he keeps at home. They're past that.

Lemm is not afraid, and he does not care to entertain the thought of rejection any longer. He draws his arm in very carefully and scoots them up against his side. He holds them there, close, and does not hurry back to writing.
capitalcurator: (...)

[personal profile] capitalcurator 2022-12-23 11:05 pm (UTC)(link)
He is still.

Relic Seeker Lemm learned his propensity for a sharp tongue and blunt words a long time past. There was no room for anything else. If there was, he had already made his reputation and none would find reason to see him change; it became easy to resign himself to his work, and nothing else. If he was a harm, so be it. He would give up on trying to be anything else.

He was wrong. And the Knight does not deserve to come to believe anything so cruel.

Lemm lets his pen sit abandoned on his lap with the rest of the blank pages, freeing up that arm to join the other in holding the Knight; his hand comes to rest on the back of their mask. He is not used to being gentle but it does not mean he cannot be, and it does not mean he is disallowed, and the small being tucked against his side demands it. So he is gentle.

Quiet, because there is a sleeping bug in the room. Lemm reminds himself: gentle here, too. But a sleeping bug will not mind a murmur that barely sounds at all.

"Aye, really..." He strokes a thumb back and forth against the back of their mask, unaware if they can even feel it. It doesn't matter. "Do you think your friend Relic Seeker Lemm would handle godhood any better?"
capitalcurator: (Default)

[personal profile] capitalcurator 2022-12-23 11:24 pm (UTC)(link)
He feels their response more than sees it, because he is looking over their horns at a distant patch of floor. But it tells him they heard, which is admittedly better than he was hoping for.

Lemm doesn't have much else to offer. Leaning into the will to help does not make him much better at knowing what to say.

But he shifts in place a little bit, following the Knight's apparent will to stay close by turning more towards them and holding - hugging them to himself a little tighter. If this were a simpler situation he would challenge someone, but there is no one to challenge, and no one to be angry at. He settles for being a defensive wall against the rest of the world, instead. This he can do.
capitalcurator: (...)

[personal profile] capitalcurator 2022-12-23 11:57 pm (UTC)(link)
He doesn't know what else to do but stay. The Knight is kept wrapped tightly in his arms, and he's content to stay put.

(He is compelled to angle his horns slightly down and forwards, jutting out over the Knight like a threat. Some deep, instinctive part of him wants a fight. Would relish one in defense of the small shape in his care.)

...So it goes. They are not so small, really. Consciously he knows well it is a god in his arms, likely older than he is. This does not deter him nor hurry him to let go.

But Lemm feels them shift, and he's quick to uncurl a little bit, loosening his grip to give them the space to readjust or retreat. He doesn't know what else to do but peer down at them, just to check. Like he came here to check.
capitalcurator: (this isn't a museum)

[personal profile] capitalcurator 2022-12-24 12:21 am (UTC)(link)
He lets them go and masks a strange wave of reluctance. He barely resists the temptation to flip his hand and catch theirs and hold it and keep holding. He cannot cling to the Knight forever, as much as he would, if they wanted. They do not want. They are comfortable against his knee. He braces that with the other one and relaxes against the wall, shifting momentarily to ease the stiffness starting to sink in.

Lemm retrieves his pen. It rolled off his lap onto the floor at some point. His paper is also taken back up and straightened.

I haven't worried about anyone like that in some time. He does not remember. This is not written. Still I would rather know than not. Thank you for that. My apologies for taking so long. It's fair to say I am a fool as well as a scholar.
capitalcurator: (Default)

[personal profile] capitalcurator 2022-12-24 12:48 am (UTC)(link)
Truthfully he doesn't know how long it took either. Truthfully he does not feel compelled to take meals regularly enough that there is any structure to be gleaned from it. He dips a horn acknowledgingly to that regard.

...Will he be...?

Here, in Dirtmouth, Lemm registers, and his hand tightens around the pen. His place is below. There is nothing up here for him. Except the Knight, now. He hovers as if to write, and falters twice.

Coward, snaps the voice that brought him here in the first place. His pen meets the paper this time.

A little while. I have some errands       bugs to see.       Not sure.
capitalcurator: (Default)

[personal profile] capitalcurator 2022-12-24 01:35 am (UTC)(link)
He shakes his head curtly. No elaboration, thank you. He's - that's - he has to sort that out himself, first. He told himself he was making it up on the spot, but there could be a lick of truth to it...

Not theirs to know right now. Lemm moves on.

Made you sit on a cold counter enough times. Don't know how long I'll stay besides. Your home; don't concern yourself. He does pause, vaguely aware of the catalyst for all of this sleeping quietly on the other side of the room. Tired?

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