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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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?"

Edited 2023-01-11 17:37 (UTC)

Movement slow, as though their mask is twice the weight than just moments earlier, their head shifts from a stare at their hand to instead do so at the cushion. Then it twitches up to look to Relic Seeker Lemm.

They do not need it.

It is being offered.

They should hold no care either way, and still their shell crawls with sensation they have come to know only recently.

It does not matter.

From kneeling to shifting, their full weight, hip-first, tilts onto the cushion 'til they're sitting on it sideways, legs curling like the dead until they fit in a way that should leave their gifted cloak from being further strained. The hardest-shelled of spiders do not have the pointed joints a grown Vessel does.

They turn their mask back up at him.

It should not matter. He does not want such things.

It is not the same to them.

They lived enough of a falsehood that one more should be of little import.

Perhaps that is why--

The Hollow Knight is, once again, motionless.

...Well, they're slumped on something soft rather than the cold, hard floor, he supposes that might be a positive. (The Knight hadn't taken well to cushions. Maybe he's gotten it wrong again. Wouldn't surprise him, and anyway nothing he can do unless they tell him so. Matter dismissed.)

More importantly they don't give him anything in the negative, so Lemm decides he's going to assume that's a yes don't worry about it you're completely fine. He gives a vague hm and turns back to the curtain to hook the last of it up.

"...Right."

Shop now a lot dimmer, Lemm descends the stepladder and drags it back through to the back. More things are moved around. There's a faint rattle, some more shuffling.

Lemm returns with two ornate cups with silver handles and a short string of lumafly lights looped over his arm.

"Mind yourself, it's hot," he mutters, and lowers one of the cups to indicate the Hollow Knight should take it. "My calling mostly has me keeping my own company, but I've found myself with a number of faces to hear me speak lately, and now yours. I'll admit I'm at a bit of a loss. Not much of an entertainer." A thought occurs to him, and he gives them a curious look. "...Still. If I'm to guess, you wouldn't have done much in the way of domestic visits, might that be right?"

(Fortunately, the Hollow Knight is large enough that cumbersome cushions aren't a problem for them like their smaller sibling.)

Time to heal and prompts to adjust their given nest in Deepnest allowed their claws to steady. They've never had reason to hold a teacup, however, and avoid dipping into memories of hands that aren't their own. The Relic Seeker expects them to take it now. Few match theirs in scale, besides.

With awkward, unfamiliar movements, their thickest claw on the end slips into the handle. The others curl around until it's wrapped within the rest, suffusing the heat through it to their shell.

A question, and a response of a barely-shaken head. Never. Not in the White Palace, not in Deepnest. The latter was too long to count as a 'visit' no matter how it was temporary.

Domestic visits do not consist of one being held in a back room to be kept out of the way. Domestic visits are not for--were not meant for Vessels, and are not for the Hollow Knight.

Until now. By Relic Seeker Lemm's choice.

Steam rises from the liquid to twist about their mask. They hold the cup a little further out.

Lemm finds himself holding the cup steady until they seem to have a proper grip. They seem so careful. Or clumsy, and making up for it. He's too interested in their reply to pursue that thought.

"I won't be the only one stumbling my way through this interaction, then," he concludes, and there's a hint in his voice that suggests he's not displeased. "We've both had little practice."

He doesn't dig any further; that's really all he wanted to know. (For now, anyway. They're in no state to be subjected to a Relic Seeker's full scrutiny, even he knows that.)

Lemm drapes the string of lights over the counter with relatively little care for how they look, as long as they pool a little light in the room where the dim stuff coming in through the door doesn't reach. He goes to take his usual seat, and leans comfortably on the counter with his tea resting between both hands. This feels more normal. Or like it should feel normal. Lemm doesn't have much experience inviting someone to tea (he's not fond of how terribly twee that sounds), incidental or otherwise, but it's fine, because apparently the Hollow Knight is not accustomed to being invited.

He delves into a drawer and pulls out some clean paper and his old quill, and slides them away from him on the desk, just in case. He finds he doesn't expect them to use it, but it feels ruder not to put any out. Relic Seeker Lemm, hunter of relics and explorer of Vessel Etiquette.

"Seems silly to ask you what you'll be doing next, since you've already claimed not to have plans. But sillier still to ask if you've an interest in Hallownest antiques, isn't it? So." He takes a sip. "What will you do?"

This is--

They believed any other bug to understand more than they, untaught by design. This information is struggled with before they remind themselves it doesn't require their thought. It is information to be absorbed and stowed away.

They are not as mindless as would have been optimal. The paper and quill and their likely purpose are comprehended.

The Hollow Knight's claws wrap around the cup further. A single occupied hand cannot write unless he commands them such directly.

And he can. They will not resist. They--they would want to. They would be sickened equally by that wish to refuse and the order to comply with. But they would not. They would never.

Still, the question posed is not yes-or-no. They do not have plans or ideas. Such things are faulty.

After a long amount of frozen nothing, they faintly shift the held cup in the Relic Seeker's direction. It isn't their choice.

Edited 2023-01-11 23:04 (UTC)

Naturally he has no idea what nuance he's meant to draw from that. This is fine. It's getting easier to lapse back into old habits, of doing all the talking and only half-expecting responses. Not the sort of thing that puts him off.

"I'll guess that means you don't know," he casually decides. "You wouldn't be the first."

Lemm studies them a moment. He doesn't find what he's looking for on their expressionless mask, but that doesn't mean it's not there.

"Maybe you'll find a hobby," he advises, offhandedly, and immediately changes the subject. "By the way, and this is my business - you don't suppose any of your friends over in Deepnest are going to come looking for trouble from me for taking up your time, do you? Only I don't fancy myself in question with Queen Herrah's lot."

Are they not.

Their King-sibling may have explained, fully, what they are. Or they had not. They are the only living Vessel with no purpose. One of two. One risen, one fallen, while the circumstances of their ascension in their Birthplace was intended to be different.

(They should not know this. That Ghost of Hallownest is a sibling left behind, one they turned to look at, but the new Lord of Shades holds less control over their Void than they realize. The Pure Vessel had forgotten. Until the rest of their shell crumbles and dissolves back to Shade and nothing, the Hollow Knight never will.)

A hobby. The subject change would be welcome, if they stopped to think about it. a hobby. They barely know what such consists of.

Once again, the massive mask shakes. They were meant to leave. None should be searching this time.

He looks relieved. Easy question, easy answer. That does take the hidden worries out of smuggling the Hollow Knight back to his shop, not that that's actually what he thought he was doing at the time.

"Good. I've had enough of misunderstandings."

He nurses his tea for a while, thoughtful. Eventually he can't help it; he circles back around to his singular hobby.

"We have time for silly questions, then. Have you met a Relic Seeker before?" He's interested to know if they were prevalent back then, yes, but this takes a back seat. Lemm is far more interested to start telling them about it.

They watch the steam rise between they and the Relic Seeker. His form wavers in clarity.

They are given another simple question.

If any had come to the White Palace, their visit and title were not important enough to be announced in the Hollow Knight's presence. They shake their head.

Edited 2023-01-11 23:57 (UTC)

Excellent!

...Ahem.

In a composed and ordinary manner Lemm takes another drink of his tea and gestures behind him, at the shelves.

"Collector, historian, partial anthropologist." A thought occurs to him, then, and somewhat belatedly he adds a fourth to the list: "...Chronicler. As I said, I've chosen Hallownest."

Time for the difficult admission, but it needs admitting. Lemm flashes the Hollow Knight a rather frank look.

"You've been a subject of mine, yourself, Hollow Knight. For a long time in fact. But I won't press you for information," he's quick to add, and shakes his head decisively. "I told myself bringing you in here I'd do nothing of the sort, and I'm sticking to it. We're not here for my business. It'd just feel disingenuous not to tell you, wouldn't it? Dishonest, maybe."

Does this bother them? Lemm watches very closely.

This is an odd thing to be told. He needn't bother telling them at all, but that is what's happening, and so they give it due attention.

They are not a worthy subject to study. They were not part of Hallownest but for their part through failure. Perhaps, if he wishes to study its ruination--

The teacup trembles and lowers slightly, and their gaze along with it.

--he does not.

(Not now.)

As they must, the Hollow Knight accepts it.

It may be the first subtlety of theirs that he catches, but he catches it nonetheless. Something about the information bothers them, or at least surprises them.

This isn't shocking, he supposes. Normal enough of a reaction to finding out someone you've never met has an academic interest in your life.

"Well no one can accuse me of not being forthcoming," he says matter-of-factly. "Imagine you wondering why I know so much! No, better I told you now."

Maybe. It's not like there's precedent, he just has to hope straightforward is best. Feels like it, though...

"Pah! Enough, I've plenty of work to do." Lemm rises from his seat and sets down his cup half-finished. "You'll have to excuse my getting back to it, but I have my collection to think about. Are you comfortable there? And don't pretend - that sibling of yours would sooner watch me sit there embarrassed than admit they're not keen on a seat, and I won't have the fuss from two of you."

Lying in Deepnest, the Hollow Knight lacked the agony of the Oldlight to distract them from themselves.

This is not a curse. No matter the concequence to themselves, they will never stop being grateful for Her end.

Still, this was the first time they were given much time truly alone.

Without endlessly struggling to hold Her in, no amount of cringing from emotion allowed them to escape them. They were cowardly, and knew it, when they tried regardless.

They were still unskilled at identifying much by name. Instead, they sorted categories.

When Princess Hornet appeared to silently pull blankets over their unresponsive form, there was a specific crawling they felt beneath the marred shell of their chest. It was distant from anger, and that is all they know.

They avoid prodding to further identify it, but now they're aware she can do so, and Relic Seeker Lemm can as well with action and shared word.

Physically, they are more comfortable than crouching in the water outside. Their answering nod comes stiffly.

Their cup is lowered further, uncertain if they should do the same. They catch the reflection of their cracked mask in the tea's surface and look away.

He flags a hand at their cup and gives a dismissive shake of the head. "No, no, you carry on. And you can keep yourself occupied, goodness knows I'm no entertainer." Lemm sweeps the same hand vaguely around at his shop.

Then he pauses, remembering himself. They may be the Hollow Knight, and he may be extending some courtesies he wouldn't give others. But they're... still a person, in his space.

...Lemm gets a bit more specific with that gesture. "But I'd rather you didn't touch anything from this shelf upward," he instructs. And then again. "Or anything on this half. And no rooting around in drawers! If it's not in the open I don't want it looked at."

Without much of a polite finish to that little ruleset, Lemm huffs and disappears back through the curtain. He will re-emerge in a moment with a mop, but he has to find the stupid thing first.

In the meantime, the Hollow Knight will do very little.

The rules are accepted and imprinted into their mind.

They do not require entertainment. They will not touch what he does not request they touch. They have this tea, that they cannot consume, which dwindles in temperature until the steam no longer rises from within their claws.

Lemm returns with a mop and bucket after a little more rummaging about, though he has to pause at the curtain to irritably kick a piece of canvas material back through that had gotten snagged on his foot. For as much tidying as he does when he's got nothing better to do, Lemm does not do much throwing-out. A small current of warm air follows him into the main room.

He pauses, just for a moment, to observe that the Hollow Knight has not moved.

"Not into antiques, then," he remarks, trying to sound aloof. "Of course you lived through it - all this must seem mundane to you." (He's a tiny bit disappointed, even so.)

The bucket clanks down by the door, and he sets to work mopping up the rain they've both been dripping everywhere. Not ideal in the dim light situation he's created, but it's just water; the stove he's left running should take care of the rest.

It's just to dry out the air in here. No, it has nothing to do with them sitting there covered in damp fabric he daren't ask them to take off.

"S'there anything you are interested in? Only I don't have much to talk about, if history's of no attraction." As an afterthought, he adds: "Pity I didn't keep that board game."

Not mundane. Not necessarily. Should they pry into World Sense and shared memories, they may have knowledge of some surrounding objects, but the Hollow Knight is unfamiliar with most direct interaction.

If he had a weapons rack, they may have found something recognizable to look at, as he now seems to want. Their head rotates to peer at it all, mask moving far to properly absorb through one eye.

They had a function that they did not succeed at. They shake their head. They have no interests. They would not know what to do with a 'board game' even if it were offered.

Relic Seeker Lemm cleans around them, and the Hollow Knight returns to complete motionlessness.

If the mop touches them, through accident or annoyance, they still will not move.

"...Mmmh." Annoyed, now. Not at them! Just in general, at himself for daring to hope he might read them as easily as he can with the Knight, or for never bothering to think about what he might offer a guest until he has one.

Lemm pushes the worst of the wet out through the door, and soaks up what he can of the rest with a little more rigour than necessary. He will not be bumping the Hollow Knight when he draws nearer to get at the floor around them, though, he's careful there. Even with his collection considered, and the uphill battle against damp, he's not going to ask them to move when they'd seemed so creaky getting up before.

...When he's done, he stops at the door to lean on the mop, gazing distantly out into the corridor.

No interests. It was hard not to take that as a dismissal for a second there, but maybe he was more right earlier than he was willing to bet. They would be far from the first Lemm has met who'd lost their calling, it'd account for the listlessness. And it would make sense; a Knight in name bound for eternal containment in purpose and... and now none of that, he supposes, and very suddenly.

(And 'calling' is wrong, he's familiar with the finer details as few else might be, Lemm has long maintained now that it was a push from behind if it was anything. In some ways he's lucky no one cared what he did with himself. Look where the opposite will get you.)

Suddenly finding some sense of direction, Lemm turns back to look at them.

"Your cup's gone cold," he says, distantly, and holds out a hand. "Don't mind my saying, but maybe I'll give you something to do, in exchange for taking up my space. That sound fair?"

Edited (phrasing) 2023-01-14 11:42 (UTC)

They read it as toward themselves, still.

They do not cringe. That would be unbefitting for--the Hollow Knight, to be affected so. They cannot correct this without being directed. They have no interests. The nearest, perhaps, would the role that keeps them existing: to serve the King.

...By proxy, serving the King's close ally is just the same.

The cool tea is deposited in his hand, and they nod readily. They--do not--they are unable to internally deny that they do not want to take up space in such a small shop. In Herrah's Den, they were at least placed out of the way. Here, they are at the center, to be worked around. The Hollow Knight is meant to be the one working around.

He takes the cup and busies into the back right away. Their nod was paramount. Lemm shifts onto a new tack; it's something to do. Something to try, to fill the empty space between them that feels like it's starting to stretch too thin.

When he draws back out with a handful of cloths instead of the cold tea, he moves faster and with more purpose; first he pushes the curtain fully aside - whatever they see of his back room, it's more important that the warmth from the stove rolls out in a wave - and then he goes to shut the shop door.

"Not locked," he mutters as an aside, because Hallownest mechanisms are uncomfortably loud. "Just keeping the heat in. Leave when you please."

He returns behind the counter and ponders over the shelves.

Eventually, Lemm plucks out a small antique pot varnished into swirling shapes, the inside of it moulded to spiral like a fossil so that whatever was put into it might sit in tiers. He holds it out, and then in the other hand a cleaning cloth is offered to go with it.

"Here. Do what you can to get this clean."

Clever but uncomplicated shape, sturdy stone-like feel, no sharp corners. He's just... going to try them with something simple, first. He doesn't know what their manipulation is like, especially with one hand to speak of. (It might set them up for failure to give them something easily broken. That's not how it's done.)

When they comprehend what he's about to do, the Hollow Knight makes their first autonomous movement: reaching behind themselves to pull the rest of their Nail into the shop. It is lifted and, after hesitation, leaned against the sturdiest-looking shelf to their right.

It is within reach. They do not see Relic Seeker Lemm as a threat, but they'll need it to stand, when he requests their leave. If he does. When--

Do not think.

They are allowed this, now, they've been assured.

It is simpler--better--not to.

Their claws barely tremble around the edges of the pot.

They're stymied and still for a time. Do what you can is a broad statement, and they have only a single hand to hold a single object. Surely, the item he's offered is more important--

Do not--

Do what you can.

They delicately settle the pot on a crease of their cloak, where their legs bend inward, and take the cloth.

The Hollow Knight does not waste time with concern over potential mess on the silk.

It's already damp, stuck with splinters, and coated with fine dust of the White Palace's remains. A little more is unimportant. They were not commanded to care for it, and so they do not.

Lemm has no fuss for the Hollow Knight's nail. Unlike their sibling they haven't been swinging it around and banging it off his counter; as far as he's concerned it belongs in here and can be put wherever they please.

(Novel thought. It's a relic in the most literal sense, and even worn as it is he'd be as thrilled to have it on his shelf as he would to have the Knight's Pure one. His eyes are allowed to linger, just for a second, just to appreciate... But, no. Lemm may not understand quite how personal a Nail could be, but he understands enough not to bother asking after anything still so clearly in valuable use.)

The Hollow Knight seems to hesitate. He misses the nuance of this, too, but anyone might hesitate in this situation, and he takes that as perfectly normal. Hoping to encourage them, Lemm gives a small flick of the hand. Go on.

He turns to his shelves and debates a while longer before picking out a more fragile-looking object, a glassware perfume bottle with a silver top. This he unscrews and begins polishing as he slips into his seat, quietly focusing in on his task.

"Like to be older than you are, that one," Lemm mutters, horns dipping to gesture at their assigned relic without looking up. "Wasp craft. Built to last, and I mean built as much as crafted. You can still see the claw prints made before it set if you look close."

The Hollow Knight apparently isn't interested in relics, but most people aren't. Has this ever stopped Relic Seeker Lemm from talking about them to whoever walks in? Not in particular. And being involved in his work gives them something to do that isn't sitting there thinking about... whatever they've been thinking about. He guesses old Hallownest, and is dead wrong and probably for the better.

The Nail isn't nearly as beautiful as it was when granted. Void and Infection bit into its surface, the Pale Ore of its construction failing to stand up to the onslaught over so much time. Cracks run over pieces. The point is filthy with the land they've traversed.

A shame. They lack the skill to do anything about it.

The Hollow Knight pauses to look. They hold no true interest, but he wants them to notice, and so they do.

The clawmarks are significantly smaller than their own.

Their vision doubles; a fleeting impression of similarly-sized claws holding an item blurs through their senses. A not-uncommon occurrence.

The marks are quickly obscured with the cleaning cloth again.

A weapon scarred by its own history is a very different kind of intrigue than a perfect Pure Nail, but Lemm would see this one fixed if he had the choice. He knows what battle it was used in, in the end. He's seen the scratches it left on the floor. ... Lemm's still reluctant to be the one to tempt the Nailsmith back to his old craft, though.

...He thinks they noticed what he pointed out? Reassuring that they're paying attention at least. Lemm turns the perfume bottle in his hands and sets down the cloth, pointing over at the vase.

"A stamp on the inside base tells me it's Phimenean craft, and even gives two names, though you'd need a -" sigh "- proper lens and good light to make them out. But it travelled a long, long way to get to Hallownest, that I can tell you."

He rattles the next few things off quickly, just to make a point.

"Sun-set mineral mould, tiered inside, likely handcrafted for a florist's display; more likely given as a mutual business exchange. Fine fissure on the outer rim - there -" he points "- could indicate damage on transport, but it's sturdy enough that I've my doubts it could happen by accident, and flowers held certain meanings. If you ask me the florist hurled the thing at a wall before it ever saw use. Takes two names for a domestic dispute."

Lemm goes back to quietly cleaning the perfume bottle. He sounds a little bit amused, now.

"Apparently my work isn't interesting to you, so now I'm showing off! Hard to believe you've no curiosity in it. I've never liked being told I have too much."

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