voicetest the voiceless

[focusedvoid]

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.

Comments

[capitalcurator]

Lemm mistakes compliance for encouragement, not that it changes his decision either way. Whatever the nuance, they don't seem to reject the offer, and that's something.

He is careful not to stare, but he's stubborn enough to stay for a long while, if need be.

The problem is that he's not privy to any of the goings-on around the Hollow Knight beyond what the Knight told him - a while ago, now, and realistically anything could have changed. All he knows is they should be in Deepnest's care, and even that might be outdated information. Maybe the Hollow Knight heals fast, like the Knight. It would stand to reason.

...It's just the way they're huddled in the rain in a soaking wet robe that makes him doubt it, somehow. It doesn't look like they're going anywhere or running an errand of any kind. They're just here.

It's probably not his place to ask too many questions, with what he knows of Hallownest citizen etiquette - ah, but he'll have to nip that in the bud, because he's not a Hallownest citizen. And because even if this is the Hollow Knight, that era's over with. And because this is...

It's the sibling of a friend of his, and there might be something wrong.

Any lingering thoughts of following established historic social roles are set reluctantly but permanently aside. After a long silence, Lemm casts them a neutral look.

"S'anyone meeting you here?"

[impure_void]

The Hollow Knight's cracked mask shakes back-and-forth. It would be a subtle movement if it wasn't half the size of Lemm's body.

None are meeting them here. None are expecting them anywhere, but seemingly Herrah anywhere that's out of her Den.

This stranger needs not stay with them, has he a meeting to make. But it is not a Vessel's--the Hollow Knight's place to judge how he chooses to spend him time.

It can be a Vessel's. It can be their sibling's. Their sibling their sister calls Ghost can judge all they wish, as their flaws became successes, and they have ascended past any expectations the Pale King's empty spawn ever should or could have had. But not their own. Their role, though outdated, has not completely changed. They are to follow the King's will. Even if the King is--

(wrong wrong wrong Father is gone, Father is)

(Their claws curl around the hilt of their Nail.)

--not the same.

[capitalcurator]

That throws him for a loop immediately.

If no one's coming, if they're not waiting here for someone, why are they here? Sightseeing? Nostalgia?

Lemm looks up at the spires of the dark, wet city and thinks: there's none to be had. It wasn't like this then. And there were bugs -

His thoughts fast-track to remind him where they are and who else might be around. How they might react. Good grief, Emilitia's door is just along the way.

"Have you anywhere to be? ...Only the rain here doesn't stop. S'just how it is, now."

"half the size of Lemm's body" more like BIGGER THAN now that i think abt it

[impure_void]

The massive mask shakes once more.

They are here because it is not the White Palace. They are not at the White Palace because staying there would bring their ruin. (They are not at the White Palace because it is as gone as everything else intended to shine forever.)

To some degree, Lemm may be able to tell where they've been. There are shellwood splinters shed around their body and caught along the edges of their robe, unnoticed.

honestly didn't even catch that i just pictured it how it is. Engrossed(TM)

[capitalcurator]

Shellwood does narrow it down, but he's too preoccupied with where they are and what they're doing now to worry about where they've been. Currently.

...Nowhere to be. That doesn't sound right, but Lemm has nothing else to go on.

It does give him an in, though.

"Ah. Well, in that case," he tries, "maybe you'd like to... rest -" he doesn't know if that's what they were doing, either, but they're not waiting apparently "- somewhere you might dry off?"

His umbrella arm is getting stiff. Lemm switches hands. And glances over his shoulder, subtly, just to make sure the street is still clear. Last thing he needs.

[impure_void]

This is a query cushioning a command. Not by Princess or Queen, but one all the same.

The Hollow Knight eases back from beneath the umbrella.

The rain drums endlessly against their mask. The crack is filling the inside with water.

They have no need to refuse. They have no right to feel bitter or dare wonder over a bug's kindness. They are wanted to go and to rest somewhere dry; therefore, they will do this, and they cut their mind empty of all else but the action of doing so.

They slam their Nail into the cracks of the ground, making more of them with the force of the strike, and struggles to stand.

[capitalcurator]

Oh, good. Lemm catches them start to shift and he swings the umbrella back to himself and out of the way of their horns. That was easy enough, convincing them. (And still he's torn about it, because does this class as the right thing to do? If they're still in recovery -)

The Nail jab makes him jump.

They are definitely still in recovery. Lemm feels a lurch of unpleasant surprise and awkwardly snaps out a free hand to hover it at their Nail shoulder like he means to steady them. Already he can tell this would be difficult. They're massive. He'd wondered if the statue had been exaggerated, but...

"Ah - slow!" he blurts out, "I mean, at your own pace! It isn't far. Think you can you manage...? Maybe this wasn't the best idea I've had..."

Hollow's Fucking Pissed™️

[impure_void]

Even slouched, as they don't realize they're doing, the Hollow Knight looms.

Details may be more obvious than before. One sleeve of their cloak is sewn shut not far from the end of the stump that remains. Where there should be wings, hidden beneath, sweeping down their back, it all awkwardly bulges just below their shoulders where even Weaver-make couldn't disguise it.

Their pace will be any set pace. They are able to meet whatever expectations of movement he might require. They do not see this question as enough of a query to respond to.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm takes in the full sight of them with an anxious twiddle of his umbrella. Slowly, he takes his hand back as he not-so-expertly tries to assess their condition. Still, some things are obvious. It's probably a good thing he didn't close the gap. They don't look right.

He gives an uneasy, evaluative little hum. He doesn't like how much effort that took them, but what choice but to continue? They're both still liable to wait in the rain forever if nothing changes. Anyway, it seems the vessel might be as stubborn as he is.

"...On our way, then," he sighs resignedly, and gestures with the umbrella. Lemm takes a step, waits to be sure the Hollow Knight is following, and then he'll certainly set the pace. Which will be as slow as Lemm judges it should.

[impure_void]

A spark of heat rises that they know intimately as anger. It was never their own, not until now, and they will not, they cannot, do not--it is ruthlessly crushed beneath chill apathy.

It does not matter the speed they travel, nor what the Vess--nor what the Hollow Knight could potentially match with their lengthy stride and functioning body. It is not their choice.

They were not made for choice. The only they ever dared make ended in failure upon failure. This bug may lead them wherever is wished, whether it be inside or into the streets that have drowned into canals.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm is oblivious.

The pace he keeps is measured to match what he judges to be easiest. It's awkwardly set. He's not someone who is used to slowing to match anyone else. But he keeps half an eye on the Hollow Knight's gait, on whether it looks like they're struggling after it seemed they took such effort to stand up, and he'll err on the safe side. Well on the safe side. (Slow.)

Lemm wasn't sure he'd take them to his shop, at first, but realistically it's the only option. It's the only indoor space he's so familiar with that he can be any use if anything goes wrong. It's the only place that makes sense.

...He isn't really registering the statue any more as he steps back out into the open rainy square. The real thing is right next to him. It's really taking him out of himself.

[impure_void]

The City once held a tall-but-simple fountain at its center.

The Pure Vessel had never seen this. They had heard of it, spoken in front of them between palace retainers, mentioning that it was too simple in design; the Pale King in all His wisdom had plans for making it more impressive once He had time to consider such things. The Vessel had no need to listen. They paid attention only for the sake of the King, if there were orders passed along, and after it was clear that was not the case, never a moment longer.

The Oldlight sank burning blades into their mind to better rend it to Her liking, and they were forcibly linked the other Infected, but the reanimated by their shattering scream had never wandered from their engrained paths through the square. The memories of they who saw it after its construction were too muddled by fear and simple-minded urges to have given them any functional idea of what it became.

Their final gift of World Sense became unreadable through the layers of agony, and remains so with their incapability to wield Soul, another side-effect of the sickness that tunneled through their being.

There is no warning.

(There never could have been enough, even if there had been.)

Passing the landmark by, the Hollow Knight tilts their head to check for something their horns might strike, and is met with another Hollow Knight unbroken staring into the ruins above their head.

They stagger sideways as though from a blow. This only brings into focus that there are other figures, faces staring in what even they can read as reverence, the Dreamers all, differentiated by nothing but their masks.

Staring up at the Pure Vessel, the Hollow Knight.

They're abruptly viewing the Fountain from lower, staring from upon sharp knees that spark with pain. There is no time to articulate their thoughts to make sense internally, only churning WRONG warping smothered anger and apathy into an icy shard plunged through their chest.

MEMORIAL TO THE
HOLLOW KNIGHT
------
In the Black Vault far above.
Through its sacrifice Hallownest lasts eternal.

Blinded by nameless horror, the wreck of what the statue long since became frantically claws their heaving shell away away away--

[capitalcurator]

In the quiet rain-noise and nothing else but their footsteps, it's easy for Lemm to pick up the sound of a stumble, and with his existing concern for the vessel's health he's quick to turn and check.

What he sees - panic, fear, something - is not something he's prepared for, but then he wasn't prepared for the Hollow Knight to show up in the neighbourhood in the first place. Woefully under-prepared for this interaction is what he is. This is not enough to stop Lemm from trying.

His shocked gaze flicks from their panicked scramble to the Fountain Square statue, and even as he looks back he's already thinking oh, you're an idiot. You're a tremendous idiot. Didn't think of this.

"What - ah, no, none of that-!" Lemm doesn't know what to do yet, he's just reacting blindly, but he approaches quickly with his free hand out to show he's unarmed, and errs far short of trying to touch them.

They're not the Lord of Shades, and he's not afraid of them either, but the valuable difference between being unafraid and being arrogant is knowing the danger you're putting yourself in; Lemm knows there'll be trouble for him if they react any worse to his presence. He does not reach out. Will not until he's sure it won't get his arm clawed off or a giant Nail through the rest of him. He is vaguely aware he still might.

"Stop. Stop - you'll end up in the Waterways, reacting like that..."

A glance over his shoulder. Lemm's mind finally produces an action that might be useful, and he sidesteps, putting himself in the way between the Hollow Knight and their statue, blotting out most of their view of it with the span of his umbrella.

He needs their attention, first. "Look here! At me. Here."

[impure_void]

The Hollow Knight failed.

Every moment they heard Deepnest's empty echoing; every moment they ached from Her burns; every moment the melted memories of the dead and diseased ran through the the channels carved through their mind, they knew.

It was a part of them. Another thrum of pain. Another skitter in the webbing around them.

It was ever-present. Through this, it became a part of the background, ignorable in their spirals of unavoidable thoughts.

Through its sacrifice Hallownest lasts eternal.

The text cuts deeper than any other reminder or blade could ever come close.

This should not be. It should have been destroyed.

Their claws spasm around their Nail's hilt, a wild urge rising to do just so. Destroy the false monument that stands where Father's palace didn't. Fix it.

They must--

--they should--


--they--

--their vision is blocked. A clear order slices through internal chaos.

They look.

Their grip goes slack.

...There is no need.

The Hollow Knight was not intended to have emotion, and certainly never to act on them. That they are deeply flawed atop existing should be no shock.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter. The memorial--the word alone is sickening--the memorial sickening them doesn't matter. The memorial standing doesn't matter.

The Hollow Knight will do what scraps of what they were made for remain.

They will not fail again, and bring further ruin two things that continue to exist for the sake of their emotion.

One: the Fountain, still functioning and a monument to the Pale King's design, no matter how flawed.

Two: the bug in front of them. Uninfected. Verbose enough to command. Observant enough to respond to their pitiful reaction. Alive. Alive. This one did not die from their failure.

The Hollow Knight is still. Their own actions have been continuous mistakes. There is nothing they need do.

Of greater importance: there is nothing they should.

[capitalcurator]

The flurry of fear he'll be held accountable for the Hollow Knight somehow, the instinctive (no, learned) impulse to back off and declare this none of his business because he's just nobody, just running a business, just this or that, the surfacing wish that he wasn't the only one here to try and handle this - all of it is shoved roughly aside so that he can think on his feet. Fierce independence comes with certain caveats, good and bad, and one of the good ones is not letting indecision paralyse.

The Hollow Knight has gone static, but Lemm has never seen anyone 'recover' from a moment like that so suddenly. Privately doubtful, he keeps his tone measured.

"Good," he says, a little breathless, when they seem to be looking right at him. "Good. Back in the present, are we?..." He briefly glances away, to double-check the way is clear even though he knows it will be, and then back.

The Relic Seeker is uneasy, but he is not flooded with the same roiling inner turmoil as the Hollow Knight; he's detached from that, flustered maybe but far from panicking. As far as he saw, they had a bad reaction, and that's all. Lemm holds their gaze, steady as a rock, and opts to distract rather than make any mention what's bothered them.

"No one's rushing you," he tells them, "but I've a place very close by and it serves me well enough when I want to get out of this miserable wet. S'where I was taking you."

Lemm points up at a window over the square, trying to get them to look, mostly so he can tell if they're present at all. (He makes a note: curtains.)

"Just up there, d'you see? Really not far. We might get dried off there, how's that sound?"

[impure_void]

Present. Yes. Their head jerks in a nod. They see him. They understand they are not with Her. This was different.

Do you see. They look up, but fail to. The City buildings are towering. It must have been--

--the capital was said to be beautiful, though paling in comparison to the White Palace. The shining windows, a number high above broken, glint and gape beneath the rain as though staring.

It is too much for one un-travelled Vessel to absorb.

It doesn't matter; that isn't a question that requires response. This bug will be leading them. They accept his terms: there is no rush, but neither is there enough need to keep him waiting in the torrent. They clamp down on their nameless emotion like a vice.

Standing goes no faster or easily than the last attempt. The Hollow Knight's functioning eye continues to be focused on Lemm the whole time.

[capitalcurator]

He could damage them worse if he tried to help. They could damage him if they took dislike to being touched. Best not.

Lemm keeps eye contact, head tilting to track them as they rise. (It's like watching someone handle a particularly delicate artifact and worrying they might drop it. Only worse, somehow.)

"...Aye, there," he says, once he's sure they're stable. "Come then - with me. Lift's over this way."

Lemm steps out and walks backwards a little way to keep their attention, drifting off to the side so that if they keep eye contact they'll be looking away from the memorial statue. While he waits for them to follow, he falls back on a more comfortable habit: chatting.

"Now, I don't expect many guests, so I'll warn you now: you won't find yourself in the lap of luxury in my shop, and I'll not apologise for it. But you're welcome enough as long as you mind yourself. I know well who you are - but I'll not have anything knocked over, understand."

...It's easier to act this way if he forces himself to frame them as his friend's sibling and not The Hollow Knight. It's an active effort, nonetheless.

[impure_void]

The Hollow Knight's eye remains fixed on his back the whole time.

They need to fold inward to fit into the lift, and later, the shop. They're used to it. Deepnest could not change its shape for one so tall.

They listen dully.

No, not dully. They simply listen. They may need knowledge to better excecated orders later. Another thing their time in Deepnest has primed them for, when Hallownest--could not.

They shrink further inward, away from the cluttered walls with many objects to potentially bump into. Their Nail is set flat beside their existent arm, its point protruding behind them through the door.

They are uncertain what the knowledge of who they are could be from. Few are alive enough to speak of them. Fewer still make their way outside of Herrah's domain enough to spread knowledge.

...Perhaps they're known from that memorial.

The Hollow Knight does not shudder, does not breathe, does not anything.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm allows them what little space he can afford, subconsciously watching that they keep their Nail within the confines of the lift on the way up, and chattering the whole time. (About rain. One time the lift got stuck. The building layout. Dull things, anything that feels inconsequential and fills the time.)

"Ah, as I've said, careful around my collection! I'm a Relic Seeker, s'my job to know - a few things," he seizes the tray of notes from his counter and tucks it sharply into a drawer, "so I've made Hallownest my business, might seem odd to you but that's... hm, the way things go..."

Most of his shop has been shade-child-proofed, in a roundabout, mostly-guesswork way. A lot of the pointier stuff has been moved elsewhere, or else to the very back of the higher shelves. The smaller Knight's aversion to Pale King imagery has been taken note of in the Relic Seeker's awkward, quiet way, and most of that has been moved or tucked into drawers. There are still pieces he missed here and there, but likely his visible collection would be saturated with spiky crown-shapes had he not tried. (None of this has yet proved its purpose, because the Knight has been busy and their siblings have stayed hidden when they've visited. It's a just-in-case measure. He has no plans to make mention of it, either way.)

...Lemm sets to transferring a messy pile of stone journals from a set of shelves by the door to the floor behind his desk, and swipes an arm over the cleared surface to sweep off most of the dust they left behind. It's flat, and about the right height for someone the Hollow Knight's size to comfortably sit down on by Lemm's estimate. (He's not having them sit on the counter. Slightly too low and anyway that's... someone else's place, in the back of his mind.)

He hums uncertainly, stepping back. "S'that alright for you? I've a cushion or two somewhere if you'd prefer."

Shadelord below he is being so hospitable. What's gotten into him.

[impure_void]

They're watching him, standing order as frantic anchor, without truly absorbing his actions. How he chooses to organize his dwelling is not the Hollow Knight's business.

Their place is functional. The light ache of their knees is nothing and so it goes fully unacknowledged.

Each word given is tucked away, and two ring above the others: Relic Seeker.

Now, they know; he knows who they are, and they know who he is. Their Sibling, the King, told them of their excursions together. The blurry images that had drifted through their mind leaves him recognizable.

This is Relic Seeker Lemm.

His rank rises from a survivor, already important, to King's ally: highest priority.

Kneeling on the floor of his shop, with respect and far more gravitas than their smaller sibling ever offered, the Hollow Knight bows to him.

[capitalcurator]

It's only after fussing so much over how to best accommodate that Lemm remembers a vessel's silence, and that it means he has to be actively looking for an answer. He quickly turns around in case he's being signalled or written to, and he's greeted with something very different instead.

"Ah..."

Lemm flinches back. If he wasn't so familiar in his shop he might have turned to see who else they might be addressing this to. He fidgets with a journal, completely caught off guard.

He coughs lightly. "...Now, see here, I know I said I wasn't the welcoming sort, but that doesn't mean my shop's hallowed ground." Lemm gives a quick little beckoning-up gesture, looking terribly awkward. "Up you get. I'll not lean on formalities in my own home, and I don't expect it of you either."

Maybe they're doing it for their own comfort? Lemm quickly decides he doesn't care - it's putting a damper on his. It's almost funny. He'd pay good Geo to see a little humility from some he's met over his lifetime. Not this one though, apparently, because seeing them do this is needling at him fiercely.

[impure_void]

The Hollow Knight eases back into merely kneeling. The ceiling is too low to do much else.

They know few ways to clearly show respect. The loss of this--

--does not matter, does not matter, does not matter. Do not think.

The Hollow Knight has no need to express anything.

He doesn't want it. This should be a rel--this outcome is for the best. The Pure Vessel they continue to imitate would do nothing beyond what is desired of them. That they have fallen out of the habit enough to dare consider, however briefly, that they wish otherwise is--does not matter.

Does not matter merges ever roughly with their other mantras, meant for stability, reminder. Nothing they do has ever mattered.

The Hollow Knight continues to watch.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm hangs back a bit, scratching habitually at his rain-soaked beard. He had no way of knowing what to expect; respect wasn't even on the list. Ambivalence might have been, but not total inaction like this.

He feels terribly awkward, now. Yes, invite them here where you have nothing to offer. Expected to be better at this by now, did we? And it seems too tight in here for them, well done indeed.

Stubborn to the absolute, Lemm refuses to be defeated even now. They're out of the rain. That has to count for something. He tears himself away and paces into the back room, restless.

"I'm making tea," he declares loud enough for them to hear. He is leaving a trail of water all over his floor, and the Hollow Knight's cloak isn't much better. Let the Knight never find out the concessions he's making for their sibling! "I hear you types don't go in for eating or drinking, but maybe I'll get you something to warm your hand..." ...Almost dropped a plural there.

There is a series of muffled rummaging sounds and the occasional thud from beyond the curtain as Lemm goes aggressively hunting through his stuff. He may be taking out a bit of personal frustration back there.

[impure_void]

The Hollow Knight's head is unmoving even as he leaves, angled just right to watch with their functional eye. The room is small. The shop, that's what this is. A shop that works backwards, from what they believed they knew of shops.

Relic Seeker Lemm is now out of sight. They look to the nearest cluster of journals and watch the words swim before their head starts to spin.

They have no order to read, only to wait and receive tea. No matter they do not require the offered warmth.

A stream of water pours from their sleeve to run off their claws. They twitch under their dropped gaze. The points press, just barely, into the floor.

[capitalcurator]

Rattling around in the other room does Lemm some good; even a few moments to collect himself and decide how to proceed are enough to get him back on track. When he sweeps out of the back again, he's dragging a stepladder with a thick, heavy pile of material on it, and pauses only to deposit a large-ish cushion beside the Hollow Knight.

"As you like," he directs vaguely, and nods a horn at the pooling wet. "Might avoid that though."

While the stove heats, he busies himself at the window putting up an old curtain, one he'd pulled down as soon as he moved in. The less they see of that statue, he thinks maybe the better. (Among... other reasons he's not sure on.)

"As I said I won't be entertaining any formalities, even if I'm one of the few who might be versed in the particulars now," he talks over his shoulder. "These things never suited me very well. I'll bank on you getting used to that." He turns to look at them for a moment, guarded, long curtains draped from his arms. "...If it's all the same to you?"