the knight (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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boxfullofzeroes2022-10-31 05:57 am
focusedvoid) wrote in 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.
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Lemm picks up the forgotten journal, and in his other hand he takes up his cloth and toys with the badge through it, turning it over and over in the material and not worrying much about how well this actually gets it clean.
Apparently this incident - though it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth - has not caused them to go for the door. They're still at it, and he didn't ask them to resume, so... The Hollow Knight can share his space as long as they see fit and he won't make a fuss about it, or the opposite - try too hard to be likeable. Not upsetting them is more than enough.
He'll be quiet for a while, letting the time pass in peace. It feels like they both need the breather.
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Once, there had been no worries about what might be wanted. Literal commands were followed. All else was ignored. This is how a properly empty Vessel would react.
The Hollow Knight was never an empty Vessel, a fact long-since made clear. Relic Seeker Lemm has made a point to acknowledge it and telling them to do the same.
An empty vessel would not hold concern. An empty vessel would not entertain the concept of discomfort. And an empty vessel would not refuse tea, even if asked yes-or-no to its offering.
The Relic Seeker isn't informing them about the relic resting on their leg. This raises flickers of fretfulness.
Even with emotion exposed, they are unsure if this is a reasonable response for them to have.
The point of their claw digs into the crevasses to flake off filth the cloth cannot.
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It's just a way of passing the time, something for him to do in the present while the rest of his mind wanders. There is still a running undercurrent of worry for the Knight, and though she's a stranger to him, their little friend as well. (This is a little surprising. Strange how his concerns have begun to branch out. And stressful.)
And now this. The Hollow Knight in his shop, the exact nature of their troubles unknown to him but certainly troubled, and him so ill-equipped despite knowing what little he does. Raising his voice - he hadn't, actually, but it had come out in a way neither of them liked and now it feels he might as well have shouted. Troublesome. His private little ruleset is tweaked.
Eventually the honour medal's final smudges are cleaned up, and Lemm sets it beside the vase, dismissing his thoughts for now and casting the Hollow Knight a glance to... check-in, he supposes.
"...Didn't expect you to be so meticulous," he says, keeping his voice quiet and reserved, just as a precaution. "Up to you if you're content getting your claws dirty, of course."
He rises to go and fetch yet another something from the back room. As he passes the Hollow Knight, Lemm eyes their handiwork and gives a small nod.
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Claws are not the same as worn covering.
He does not seem displeased, despite this.
After a visible delay, their head shifts in a returning nod before sharply ducking back down.
The cup is clean.
A chill cooler than the drumming water drips through their chest.
It could be cleaner. There are two indents inside where the handle curves out. The Hollow Knight works on those.
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On his way out, he pauses by the stove and turns the valve to let it die off. The shop is warm enough now, no need to turn it into a hot spring.
Lemm returns and stoops to set the bowl beside the Hollow Knight on the side of their good arm. His hand is still wet; he rubs his fingertips together pointedly.
"S'for metal usually, but it'll do no harm to shell, either. Still - can't imagine why I'd need to say this, but don't get any of that in your eyes." Will it even be an irritant to someone whose eyes are basically Void behind a mask? Unlikely, but he certainly will not be the first to see it tested.
Now that he's closer, Lemm also finds himself snagged by the relic they're working on. It has come up beautifully. It'd be a shame to say nothing, but he'd planned not to lecture them any further on something that interested them none. His hands curl and uncurl at his sides, gaze pinned on it for a short while.
"...You're doing a fine job," he settles on as a compromise, and returns to his desk.
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The Relic Seeker referred to shell specifically, and so they dip their claws directly into it. It's warm; their claws clench, sloshing some over the edges.
They lift their claws to stare.
He'd mopped the floor. They should clean it up.
Their head twists to stare at the cloth, draped over the cup, resting on their leg.
He'd mopped the floor. It is not metal or shell.
More will spill if they pull their hand back to reach for it.
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...He thinks he was expecting more background noise, though. His head lifts.
...
What are they doing.
"It's not corrosive," he offers, the only logical concern he can think of.
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More mess is capable of being dried in the same manner. The Hollow Knight's claws flick off the excess and hastily grasp at the cloth.
This does not go well. Confusion and stress affect coordination. The entire cloth is dunked directly into the bowl, destroying its ability to dry anything.
They pause.
They are aware the emotion rising within is known as dismay.
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Are they going to use that stuff on the ceramic? It won't do any harm but he doesn't see the need for a wet cloth when the thing is already so clean - oh, it was an accident. His confusion vanishes in a wisp.
What is apparently a big private deal to the Hollow Knight barely registers on his radar. Maybe there is an issue wringing out a wet cloth what with only having one hand though? His tone is entirely unbothered.
"It's just water and polish. D'you you want some help?"
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The response does not come for a significant time.
They do not want--anything. Do not--
They do not want help. A simple task does not require such. The Hollow Knight is assisting him. As guest.
...Dismay is near enough discomfort.
Dismay is, possibly, a type of it. Intricacies of emotion continue to elude them, even as they've learned terminology and experienced many in their imprisonment with the Oldlight.
Their eventual stiff nod is as uncomfortable as their fixed stare downward.
His voice is unconcerned. Mask turned towards the bowl and their arm, the Relic Seeker is on their blind side. No more can be gleaned.
They need not glean anything. There was an offering; there was agreement. This line of thought is crushed as much as is possible.
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Over the floor.
"No harm done," he explains, entirely casual about the whole thing. "I'll be the first to admit I don't clean in here as often as I should. Likely this stuff'll leave my floor cleaner than it started. Here."
He offers the damp cloth back.
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--it is not their place to question. Anything. And certainly not how one keeps or does not keep their own dwelling.
They take it back, and begin to clean the cup's indents, as originally intended. It isn't made of metal. They are not thinking about that now.
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"Keeping the damp out is easier said than done, but with the shop as warm as it is I've no fear. I should keep it on more... How's your cloak drying?"
The pretense that the stove thing was just for the shop is off, then.
Lemm stays busy now that he's up, gathering a few of the used cloths that have too much grime on them now to be useful and chucking them haphazardly into the mop bucket, then going around to do a little bit of... pseudo-tidying. Moving stuff around.
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The cloak becoming drier was also missed. The Hollow Knight shifts. Spidersilk slides across their shell, with most along their limbs dry but for where it was most creased, and some where it rested against the cushion and floor.
This question was not yes-or-no.
...A nod would communicate satisfaction. Could. Often does, among others.
Uncertainly, they do so.
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"Good! I've guessed for a bit it's pointless warning someone like you against catching a cold, but still it can't be pleasant to sit in wet fabric." A slight pause; Lemm huffs. "Old aches can act up in the cold and the damp, sometimes. I've heard."
Maybe he'd see if they might be able to take the umbrella with them, when they opt to go out again- but the Nail's the trouble. They'll not leave without that, and don't have a spare hand for anything else.
...He was absently staring at the relic they must nearly be finished with by now, but his gaze wanders, and settles on the Nail leaning up in his shop. He looks pensive, suddenly.
every motherfucker on the planet this morning: time for phone? phone time now?
...The damp could be considered a discomfort. Less comfortable, by definition. The silk is not as heavy on their body now, negligible as it is even soaked.
The oblong cup is cleaned to perfection in every cranny, to their eye. They hold it to the Relic Seeker for his own examination.
PATS.... u_u
- he can talk. He's not disallowed from talking. It's his shop.
"Show piece," he says out loud, and his thoughts click easily into place. "For sauces. Would've been set out on the table for guests, if the family wanted to give the right impression." He dips his thumb inside to press the claw-tip against a textured stamp in the ceramic, smoothed over by glaze, previously hard to make out amid the grime in the internal divot of a handle. "Crafter's mark there, three Hallownest towers. I've seen this before, but I've yet to learn the maker..."
Lemm clears his throat to cut himself off.
"Excellent job you did with it. All of it, actually."
He sets it carefully with the vase and the medal, and stares at the little collection of stuff for a moment. They won't want this, he shouldn't think. But they've worked for him. He should offer at least.
"We could," he falters, but only for a second, "have a look at your Nail, if you'd care to. I'm no smith to fix it for you, but -" Lemm gestures to the bowl by their side "- I've some more of that. Might come up cleaner at least."
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The Hollow Knight--
There is no reaction to this praise, a step above 'good'. This should not matter--
--and yet. The Hollow Knight is affected. They cannot deny this.
This was not a difficult doing.
Within Deepnest, all eyes had been pointed towards the Vessel, awaiting them to break further.
This was a level assumption. They had done such, in times they can recall, and several they were only quietly informed of later. Their healing was not clean. They were not the only that still survived with bouts of madness that lingered after the Infection had spread. They attempted to follow orders they could not. They tried the same with orders that did not exist in the first place.
The Relic Seeker lacks this information. Does not assume or expect. The concern over damage and cleanliness to their form is inexplicable, but there is not--there--
--it is different.
It isn't so much a discomfort.
This may be why considering yet another offer comes easier.
Considering takes time. Their Nail is turned to and peered at, with all its grime and cracks. It's barely a Nail now. The Hollow Knight may be capable of using it as such still, but it has been...
...long enough for a Relic Seeker to come to this place, since they used it. A tool for walking is all it's been used for since leaving the Egg.
This consideration splinters with sudden sharp rapping on the closed door behind them.
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Lemm is not overly on edge, and he's already come down from the shock of the Hollow Knight going rigid earlier. But he's distracted, and this exact sound does not belong to this place and he actively flinches away from the door, two hasty steps backward toward the back room and hand outstretched behind him -
He gathers himself quickly, and casts a wary glance at the Hollow Knight (no one should have seen that, that was embarrassing) as he gives an irritable sigh and dusts a hand down himself.
"'Scuse me," he tells them in warning, because he is about to be loud. "Aye, aye! Just a minute!"
Who would want the services of a Relic Seeker so abruptly, should have put up a sign, I've no time for this...
Annoyed, he elbows the switch. "If a shop door's closed, the shop is closed -!" The door mechanism clunks wide open.
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Even so.
Behind the Relic Seeker's back, claws wrap around Nail.
Hornet has been tracking the Hollow Knight. Had been. She followed the trail predictably to the gaping space of the White Palace.
She had erred in her assumptions after that. She believed it still too weak to climb up the nearby shaft. After multiple passes, she found evidence of claws that can't belong to anyone else.
The City of Tears proved to be more terrible a problem. She finds herself losing its trail--their trail--(the little Ghost wrote, and called them such. They did not write to her, but to Herrah. She did kill them at least a bare dozen times. There's no reason to be bothered.) the moment she stepped into the downpour. The ruins of the ground hide the characteristic Nail-marks of their movement, and the water itself washed away what minute scent any Vessel holds.
There are worse places to have lost them, was Hornet's initial thought. The Fungal Wastes would be more dangerous and confusing. It also had many smaller tunnels that it--they--would never have managed to squirm through unnoticed.
She is unused to losing what she tracks. She's just as unused to the jittering anxiety that thrums through her with every corner turned.
The Hollow Knight is her responsibility, after all. Mother had only requested her rest. She could have done so nearby, and instead she chose to hide away on the other side of the Village entirely.
She is frank with herself; her nebulous emotion spurred her to avoid lingering. She isn't used to that either.
And now she may lose them.
Years, she'd waited for it--their death, through replacement or a final failure. The idea of their end being met on their own terms elsewhere should not bother her so. She has Mother. She has Ghost. Through the fall of her homes, the Hollow Knight had not been anything but a figure for disgust and pity.
Her brief attempts at rationalization doesn't work. Unsurprisingly.
Aimless wandering leaves her only more frustrated.
She goes to the first figure who might notice her sibling's presence. Emilitia is characteristically obnoxious. Hornet is uncharacteristically affected. She hasn't hissed at anyone since...not long after the Sealing.
Her mouth tingles with the foreign sensation well after she leaves.
There's another inhabitant she's aware of. She hadn't met the one who searched the ruins to bring to his own dwelling, but as he never desecrated beyond relocation, she never had reason to retaliate. With the Nailsmith's hut empty, it's there she goes next.
The door is opened swiftly.
Her eyes meet his.
Her eyes slide past him, to the hunched figure of her missing sibling, bent to fit within.
Hornet's Needle is never out of hand. The blade whips to aim directly in the center of his face. "You--"
The air goes heavy, and then it rushes.
The Hollow Knight's Nail slams her Needle to down in a parry, now looming outside the doorway between them.
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Within a blink, he is ricocheted back into survival mode and he feels foolish for putting his old caution aside. The metallic thud of weapons and the Hollow Knight's sudden move has Lemm cringe back with his arms held in front of his face.
His hand snaps out towards the switch again - but the Hollow Knight is outside the threshold. His reach never makes it.
Visibly shaken, he looks from the unexpected threat to the Hollow Knight's defense, and as his arms start to lower his hackles rise.
"What - you - now you mind your weapon! The items in here are fragile!"
Lemm dares a step forward, putting himself just behind the Hollow Knight's shoulder (he's not crazy, he's safer behind them), but his eyes are fixed on Hornet and he has managed to speed his way through healthy fear and skipped straight to outrage.
It is a mix of feeling his shop, his home, is threatened - and having someone much bigger than him so clearly rise to his defense. It is also the fear for their health that is now converting very unexpectedly into anger.
"Lower it, whoever you are!" he demands.
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Were it possible, the Hollow Knight might have looked the same down towards her. The response was as mindless as coming to attention.
A pathetic part of them wishes to cringe away from her face, and the look upon it.
Proper thought jolts to the forefront before a chance to act on this can go through. The Hollow Knight is intended to serve the King; allowing the Princess to skewer an ally would be the opposite.
The Relic Seeker is behind the hilt of their blade and body enough to be guarded. The Hollow Knight does not change their stance.
Once again, Hornet hisses, a sudden sharp sound cutting off abruptly as her Needle-hand falls to her side.
She breathes in. "I've had quite a time looking for you," she says to her sibling, ignoring the other completely. She'd stayed her weapon to keep from injuring her sibling, not on the order of a bug she hasn't met. "Your ability to traverse so far from home this quickly was a surprise."
She does not raise her blade again. The assessing look she turns on Lemm is sharp enough.
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- From home, says Hornet, and several things fall into place.
She is not here for him. She is here for the Hollow Knight. From Deepnest, alright then. Lemm changes his mind about wanting to draw her attention just in time for her to look right at him.
He's still tense, but less aggressively so. Lemm breaks eye contact just once, to look at the Hollow Knight, and then straightens his stance into a bit less flustered and challenging. A bit.
He gives a light, back-of-the-hand pat to the most convenient part of the Hollow Knight, which happens to be their leg.
"Easy," he tells them, in the hopes they'll drop their defensive pose. And then he gives Hornet a curt, clipped nod. "Can I help you?"
Lemm is no friendlier, but she is not aiming a sharp point at him any more, and he knows enough now to dial it back.
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This process is slow. There is automatic scanning for threat; there is a matching throb through their full body, scrambled and dizzy with their sudden use of Void to end the battle before it could start.
They had always been more skilled with Soul. Those routes are burned away, leaving their ability stagnant and nearly useless. Void had done its job.
"I...was searching for i--them," Hornet says, wary, yet honest. Direct lies serve her little. "There was miscommunication of some kind. I've passed through the City before and was aware someone lived here. I planned to ask if you'd seen them nearby."
Her head tilts back upward. They are no longer staring her in the eye, hunched in a pose she's more accustomed to, when they weren't curled within their nest. Their working eye is fixed somewhere between Hornet and the bug behind them.
What were they doing in here?
"I hadn't...expected they would be here on their own," she says to the bottom of their mask.
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"They're not," he points out. He is not a fan of being left out of her assessment. "But neither did I."
How much to say...? Again he's faced with the understanding that he shouldn't know this much. It doesn't suit him to lie either, but he has just had her physically threaten him. No need to show all his cards, at least until he understands what's going on.
"Miscommunication indeed," he haughtily agrees. "I don't see why I've had a weapon in my face today." This isn't what she meant and he knows it.
He might be more helpful in a moment. Right now he's got to assess her. He folds his arms and concedes only a minor argumentative inch.
"Relic Seeker Lemm," he tells her. And then addresses the Hollow Knight. "Friend of yours?"
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