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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It's impossible without the Crystal Heart or wings.
-Even those with wings have no need to go past the spikes, as there they pause in writing for a moment, considering their words. Their lost sibling won't know if they call them not of interest, but they would feel guilt besides. --doesn't appear to contain much of interest.

They make a line with their claw above the long tunnel of spikes. See, defense as well as space.

"I don't-"

have those.

Lemm curbs himself a little too late. His hands come together again, fidgeting. His claws scratch distractedly at his palms. He tries again.

"Don't like you going where no one can get to you." He looks up. Yes, it's not his place. They can sleep where they choose. And they will. Nothing he can do.

He is saying it anyway.

...Ah.

Their own paws come together, quietly staring at the quill between them for a while.

Simply telling him that they'll be fine doesn't sit well. Not after how they've demonstrated they're significantly not at the moment, and not after they were terribly upset with him for dismissing himself. Disregarding how they're afraid of their own self isn't better than Lemm disregarding outside threats to himself.

It would still keep me from potentially injuring anyone else, they write, each line and curve coming slow. I didn't only hurt Myla. I ripped the Fools apart, Lemm, from the inside out. I do not know how badly I might react when I already ~~don't know~~ am experiencing stress. I don't want to do that to any accidental wanderers. I don't want to potentially strike you down if I jolt awake.

I'm sorry.

It is difficult to read this. Lemm fiddles with his hands the whole time, lacing his fingers together and ticking them arrhythmically. No relics to clean and nothing to translate, just reading to do. It doesn't take long. But it's hard.

He looks away for a moment, mind obviously wrangling this information as his gaze flicks from one spot on the table to another.

Lemm is not qualified to offer reassurances of what a Higher Being may or may not do, accidentally or not, asleep or not. It's not even a known biology, isn't predictable, isn't a topic of study that coincides with his (or anyone's as far as he knows). It would be an empty platitude to make claims without knowing what he's talking about, and without a single doubt he does not.

But his eyes linger on the way they used his name, the way it looks in someone else's handwriting, their handwriting. He wishes he feared normal things like the dark or the dead or plagued kingdoms or Higher Beings more than he feared admitting this. But needs must.

"I can't reassure you how I'd like, Knight," he admits, holding up a hand. "S'all bigger than me, and I know it well. I'm just a bug. But I can't watch you swear off people like you mean to make it a habit." Lemm tries to meet their gaze as best he can, ignoring the way his shell crawls. "It'll rot you."

The Knight's empty eyes meet his gaze square. Is that what it seems like?

...Is that what they're doing?

I don't have plans for that. I don't have much plan for anything, they admit, and stare at the paper, trying to pull together thoughts to language to text.

They've done it before. Even in Hallownest, to some degree. Cast out for whatever they might be, strange and disliked, they decided enough was enough, whether others were correct or not about their presence as a bad omen, an emptied-out shadow. In truth, partly what they were doing before slowly growing their connections through this place. Lemm's fear for them, and Dirtmouth's concern, have truly shaken them into realizing how much that's changed in so little time.

I'm not considering swearing off anyone. I simply know I need to learn safely. I don't need to worry for myself., in the physical. I want to adjust to whatever I'm capable of without fearing too much that I might kill or something else irreversible.
That's why I would prefer not to be easily found for at least this attempt at sleep. I'm not going to hide from everyone forever.

(...Lemm asked, once, in a moment that felt vulnerable like this--)

I'll come back. I promise.

He knows the first part, no one plans these things. He certainly didn't.

But their words make sense. He knows they do, the Knight is terrified and they need space.

...Straight to his heart, that little promise. What little there is of Lemm's composure amid fidgeting and restlessness buckles, and he finds he trusts them. He can allow it.

"...Be sure that you do," he says, very seriously. "Alright. Just once. You'll go by yourself just this once, do you hear? And you won't make it a habit. Get yourself some proper rest and then you'll come back..."

Lemm sets down his pen. He opens his arms, an obvious invitation if there ever was one.

The Knight promptly dashes into his arms, lightly rattling the table, face pressing flat into his shoulder. Maybe a subconscious piece of them was hoping for this, as much as they weren't expecting it.

They know he doesn't mean how they often go off on their own, wandering. Different schedules, as he's said in the past. But the important part is they'll refuse to break their promise. They'll come back to Lemm, and they'll keep doing so as long as they are able; this is sworn, for all that none can hear it.

He is surprised at how easy it is. But not so much that he delays in wrapping them tightly in his arms, tucking them as close as they'll fit.

Lemm sighs, all the tension draining out of him.

Too easy to be earnest with the Knight. He finds he doesn't mind.

"Thank you," he murmurs into their shoulder. "Just - needed that promise, I think. Needed this. You'll be alright, I know you will."

He gives them a tight squeeze. It's just as much for him as it is for them. Second hug in... oh, a long time. He means to make it count.

Myla's asleep. The shift change won't be too soon. They can't hang in his grip forever, but they can let it last a while.

Apologizing again would be too much, no matter strongly as the urge to do so strikes. They rub a paw along the bit of back they can reach in a slightly clumsy attempt at comfort in its place.

It works as intended. It is a lot, to look for comfort and find it freely given. Reciprocated even, because he wants the Knight to feel safe with him more than anything. But that they'd go out of their way...

They'll feel the tiniest, most stifled shudder, and Lemm inhales slowly just to keep those thoughts from overflowing. A shaky exhale. He very gingerly loosens his grip, but only to make this more sustainable than holding them so tight his arms might go stiff.

"You'll be alright," he says again, and he sounds like he steadfastly believes it. "It'll be easier after a rest, you know - everything is. You'll solve it somehow."

They nod against his shoulder, and, after a moment's hesitation, nod again. Rest is just what they need, that makes them healthier in mind as well as body. And they've gone against worse odds than this. They've fought a god that killed countless and despised them personally; they won against her, and they can win against themselves. They're proud of their own control with Nail, after all.

That thought digs in their mind a while. Long enough to take root.

Once they pull back from the hug--only partly--they choose to elaborate, in crooked text on the paper they don't bother dragging all the way from the table. Staying in his arms leaves their writing at a terrible angle. They manage it.

Rest and I just need practice. Ive been used to what Ive known (like using Nail) for so long and picking certain skills up quickly, I may have forgotten to fully think through the concept.

Thank you.

Edited 2022-12-26 10:18 (UTC)

His arms stay loosely ringed around the Knight; he's happy to stay put as long as there's no good reason to part yet. Lemm tilts his head to let him read at such a diagonal, and gives a soft huff.

"Well. Maybe that's what you want a fussy old Relic Seeker for. If you can't make sense of the text, sleep on the problem and come at it with a clear head. Not all of my habits are bad ones."

A little of his old haughtiness has come back, there, but it's entirely soft-edged and tinged with amusement. Lemm unwraps one arm to rest a hand lightly between their horns, and pats them fondly. Big scary Lord of Shades they may be, but they're still smaller than he is right now.

"That or keep me around to bore you to sleep with Ze'mer's poetry. That I can certainly help with."

They soak the fondness in, settling back down against his chest a little. It's simply pleasant.

Eager to volunteer for future work already? be sure you plan on reading out a novel worth.

Edited 2022-12-26 10:55 (UTC)

Lemm rearranges himself just a tad, hooking his arm against the Knight to pull them gently into a seated position on the table, nested in his arms and up against him. If they're going to wait like this, then he can act as a particularly comfortable seating arrangement.

(He's not sure where this is coming from. He's never had reason to be cuddly before.)

"You'll regret asking. Now I know I have an audience you'll be hard pushed to stop me."

They knock their horn lightly against his chest. As though Ive stopped you before.
I can switch places with Greenhorn should the need arise.

Edited (no physical action felt real weird) 2022-12-26 13:22 (UTC)

"Greenhorn's a good listener." Still strange that name stuck. He hadn't meant anything by it at the time - except that everything seemed new to them. But they like to listen to him. "As are you."

When the Knight first began chatting back, Lemm had worried they might tell him they were sick of his anecdotes, and perhaps had been the whole time... He's since come to realise this isn't the case.

"That reminds me. I don't think I've told you about the trader's journal, have I...? S'one of my favourites."

The story is as real as the rest he's gleaned from stone journals, but the amount of rigour this particular visitor had to go through just to sell in Hallownest borders on slapstick. He tells it quietly enough - Myla is, as always, accounted for - but there is the occasional light snicker that the Knight might feel with their mask so close to his chest.

He is almost halfway through his recount when there is a knock at the door. Lemm cuts himself short, and gives the Knight a reluctant but decisive pat on the head. Later. It's a long story. ~~Now let him up before anyone sees Relic Seeker Lemm so placid.~~

Focus sweeps back in like a chill wind--though not terribly so. This had been pleasant. It's qualified as a type of relaxation, at least. The Knight isn't anywhere near their initial level of distress.

Unable to reach high enough to pat him on the head as he did them, they lean and lightly tap the top of theirs under his chin before they go about gathering up their map and such.

At the door, Iselda and Cornifer are ushered inside. Cornifer spots Lemm, already aware from Iselda's mentioning, and cheerfully waves, only mildly surprised he's still here.

A soft discussion ensues between the couple and the Knight. Most details were hashed out prior, but now, they (nerves jangling invisibly) bring up Grimmchild.

Cornifer and Iselda both have Charm Notches, and don't seem to have too strong a concern accepting a Higher Being's Charm. Though the Knight notices, when they transfer it, Iselda plucks it from them before Cornifer can have a chance.

(Her antennae twitch, once, when they're equipped and appear over her shoulder. She dismisses the sound of a heartbeat as the noise of their teleportation, and tell them with narrowed eyes they need to stay out of trouble. They chatter something she doesn't think is disagreement. She'll be keeping a look out anyway.)

For a second he's not sure if the headtap was an accident made as they got up. It didn't feel that way though, and after the realisation hits he slowly rises from his seat and scritches at his beard where they bumped him, fending off a renewed wave of... acceptance, maybe, or something like it. Can't linger on it now; there're people at the door.

He arranges himself into some semblance of his usual self, fingercombing down the beard that has been somewhat scuffed out of order by having someone squashed up against it for a while, fussing at the fluff around his shoulders, and giving a rather un-scholarly crack of his neck...

He's left clutter everywhere. Lemm is still hurriedly sweeping a journal and pens and several papers into his bag by the time the wife-and-husband duo enter the Knight's home. Cornifer's greeting is matched by a quick, distracted nod - oh, that's... not his map. He quickly retrieves the Knight's from next to his own and slaps it back down. ...And their pen. And a poem. Wait, no, that is his.

Frazzled at being in front of other people again after something that made him feel like that, Lemm scrabbles to close his bag, keeps his mouth shut, and quietly comes to stand at the Knight's shoulder in nervous solidarity.

It's somewhat strange to write for people who aren't Lemm, and stranger still to write people who aren't Lemm right in front of him. It was easier when they were panicking.

The Knight unconsciously takes a step closer, wing brushing against the side of his leg. If Cornifer or Iselda take any notice or thoughts of this, it's kept to themselves.

A little more chat about amenities and such (certainly they can bring whatever they want from their shop if the cushions aren't enough; no, they don't mind who does what as long as they fully keep an eye out) occurs. Until it turns out they might, perhaps, be dithering a little, as Iselda steadily interrupts. "Now, you go rest. Or go walk your legs off, whatever you want on your break. We have this well in hand." She waves them to go pick up their remaining things, and Cornifer goes to set up on the table in their place.

(The picture of Great Knights and their sibling is hung in a fairly secluded edge of the room, behind where some of the many lights cast shadow. It's too late to worry about that now. It's not so strange to have one of those hung somewhere. It shouldn't be asked after.)

Iselda and Cornifer both receive grateful bows, though Cornifer might not be looking up to see; his spectacles make it difficult to tell. They're sure the sentiment is understood.

If they wait any longer, they might find further excuse to keep around. With no further ceremony, they turn and head to the door.

He gives no outward sign of noticing the contact. (Inwardly he can't help feeling a little vindicated. The Knight is his friend, he's allowed to be here. Take that, no one who challenged him in the first place.)

While the Knight is busy hanging the sketch, Lemm takes this opportunity to snap out of vacantly watching the proceedings and makes a decisive beeline.

"Cartographer Cornifer," he addresses him, businesslike, and holds out a hand.

"Relic Seeker Lemm," he gets back, mildly surprised but affable as ever.

They shake.

"Obliging of you to play courier."

"Oh, it wasn't a bother. It seemed important."

Lemm considers agreeing. Instead he just gives a polite nod mid-retreat and follows the Knight outside.

He is swift to pull the door closed behind them, slowing at the last moment to avoid making too much noise.

Lemm glances down at the Knight and tries not to do too much stalling of his own.

"Which way will you go?"

The wind nearly rips paper from their paws when they pull one out, so they hastily tuck it back.

They're just behind the Stag Station, their house is (and they get another strange blow to the mask sensation, somewhere in their chest, this is their house) so they simply point to it.

And then, at Lemm, with a questioning tilt of the head, even as they start ambling around the building towards the entrance.

Edited 2022-12-27 00:28 (UTC)

"Ah, wait - I'll see you off."

Lemm's hand rests at their back for a little while, and he walks with them and offers a few words.

"Be safe on your way," Lemm mutters, just over the wind. "Don't get careless. Check before you - ugh, listen to me, fussing like this, you've turned me into a busybody. You know what you're doing."

Lemm lets his hand drop as they emerge from behind the Station and into view of the centre of town. He avoids looking. He'll deal with that in a moment.

"I hope you'll visit when there's more time," he says, leaning down so he can afford to be a bit quieter. "There's more important business afoot, of course, I'll not hold my breath... You'll be alright," he adds, and stops in the doorway.

If Lemm's fussing, they can fuss somewhat in return and he can't get too upset about it. They duck into the frame so they can write a hasty question:

I can ride with you to the City. if you like? They don't know he came in that way. They haven't thought about it, and still perhaps wouldn't have expected he did, but it is the fastest way back anyway. He dislikes it, and the stop can be on their way, so they lose little by offering.

They nod a few times anyway, whether or not he chooses that. Expectations aren't high, but they hope they can visit before long.

Edited 2022-12-27 09:54 (UTC)

...Kind of them, even if his pride still takes a knock for it - and he's not inclined to react poorly this time. Lemm makes a negative-ish noise and waves off the offer as politely as he can manage.

"Someone I need to see, first. You go on, I'll ride by myself." He'll wait here until they're out of sight. It feels like the right thing to do. "I'll... see you soon, Knight."

Perhaps they'll visit on the way back.

Or on another shift-change. That's more likely. More reasonable.

...This is something they need to consider after they're rested, they decide.

The Knight bows a deep farewell, and disappears into the Station before they can dally any further.

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capitalcurator - 2022-12-27 21:04 (UTC) - Expand

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