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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He fidgets. So much in fact that he gives the impression of a far younger bug expecting to be scolded. He hasn't even given some of the details, yet more of his social failings or ways things went wrong that they ought to be upset about as well, but they...

They are doing their best to reassure him they aren't. Lemm works through their words with discomfort he is admittedly not hiding all that well.

The Hollow Knight showed... decorum. Politeness maybe, proper Knightly behaviour towards anyone. The flash of nail on needle, and they'd taken the handshake, and the tea - but those things aren't necessarily personal either, he could too easily be reading them too positively, and in his head they are outweighed by his mistakes. Until (unless) he learns more and comes back to examine that interaction in better light Lemm can take little reassurance from it.

The Knight's words are solid, tangible. He knows the Knight far more personally, and there is no room for misunderstanding. Their writing, their voice, that Lemm trusts himself to interpret better.

It's possible it didn't go as badly as he has come to think. And the Knight is not disappointed. Their touch is doubly reassuring. They're not disappointed.

Lemm sits with their words for a while, and cautiously looks up.

"Aye. Well they've plenty of reason to be." He pauses, glances back down, and huffs a sigh. "I find myself wanting to be useful to you," Lemm admits finally. "Feels like I'm not earning your... I know it doesn't work that way, I'm not that foolish! Frustrating as anything, though."

Some of the tension has bled out of him, regardless. Lemm rallies a bit and fixes the Knight with a long, appraising stare.

"It's already occurred to me having siblings all of a sudden might be difficult for you. Hope you don't mind blunt observation. Not sure why you keep coming back here otherwise." This does not seem particularly self-depreciative - there's a little note of humour there, despite everything. Their reassurances really have helped.

The Knight taps a claw on the quill, turning over his reactions in their head. Concern over their sibling. Concern they could be hurt. Concern they...dislike him. As others have.

The glass behind them throws soft light across the counter. They can see the muzzy outline of their shadow. The memorial, the fountain, something he's been wondering about for so long.

...They'll try to ask their sibling, later. They should work out what happened and ask around Deepnest regardless. It'd be preferable to know how they might expect it again. They should know if their powerful sibling might hold some sort of grudge. No matter how unlikely a response might be.

But Lemm isn't continuing on about that, and they follow his lead.

I don't know if you can be with this, they tell him straightforwardly. But you helped me greatly with your observations in Dirtmouth. I needed the push and words you gave me.

They pat his arm again, more firmly this time.

...His other observation is, indeed, correct.

It's strange.

They halt there, staring down at the paper. He might expect elaboration. They're not sure how to put how natural it feels most of the time, with the Siblings linked with them, and Hornet and their tallest sibling a confusing but cared-for presence in the distance. The latter, they don't...really know what to do with.

Edited 2023-02-13 09:45 (UTC)

He fidgets much less in the meantime. Nor is he inclined to start chatting away again just yet. The quiet settles back in; this is an atmosphere he's coming to know as familiar, the ever-present rain-noise with the added fact there is someone in the room with him deciding what to say next. Lemm can be comfortably patient in this, and idly gazes out of the window as he slowly gets a handle on his nerves.

When they do continue, the first sentence only barely grazes him. The rest is more reassurance. About feeling useless, yes, and about the Knight's state of being. It was the right thing to do, going to visit, they're brighter now and obviously better for his... counsel?

Counsel isn't quite right, he's perfectly happy to think he bullied them into it. Either way he commits to making the same choice again, and quicker.

While he is thinking about this they pat his arm again, and this time he catches their paw lightly in his own hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. (They are here, solid, they came back. As they said.)

"Expect bickering," he matter-of-factly advises, mostly as a deflection in case they don't want to share more than they have. As he talks, Lemm casts an appraising eye over the Knight, finally studying them properly like he's felt compelled to since he walked in and saw them sitting there. Checking for damage he knows he won't find. "Considering it all I'd say strange is normal. It'll fall into some sort of routine I'm sure."

A tightness in their chest that's been there since Lemm wandered in out-of-sorts finally loosens, and relieved claws curl around his.

He was far too kind to be bullying, and they'd rather exasperatedly say as much if they knew. It's for the best they don't.

You think? I'm not sure what to expect. They're strange for siblings, as well. A whole strange family--and doesn't that feel bizarre to think, more than sibling alone.

If they're well enough to make it all the way here, you might be right. I'm glad to know they're not as bedbound. Perhaps I can start exploring Hallownest with them as well. Maybe even their tallest sibling and Lemm together--but that's very much getting ahead of themselves.

Lemm's scrutiny of them lasts a while. They might catch him tilting his head very slightly to one side just to adjust the angle of his view of them, as if some back edge of their wing might be concealing some thorn scratch or the like.

He shrugs. "You're hardly quarrelsome, but I'll be surprised if the lot of you never have a spat. That's just the way of it." (...Nothing. Satisfied, Lemm settles back into place with a sigh, largely unaware he was fussing to begin with.) He holds up a hand like he's making a pledge, and... smirks. "Greenhorn however is exempt, as they are incapable of any wrongdoing whatsoever. Scholar's intuition."

The anxiousness is definitely fading. Holding their hand helps. As does the talking, now that it's no longer full of his misgivings.

Still, maybe he'd be wrong not to pull the brakes a bit, here? Lemm gives this some consideration first, and then gives an uncertain hum.

"...I'd play my cards carefully with the Hollow Knight. I did, or I tried to. Lot of things seem to set them on edge, and I'm not silly enough to think all of it was my own blundering." A pause. Lemm shakes his head and sighs. "You know all this already."

'Hardly quarrelsome.' Technically correct, but they reach up and pat the hilt of their Nail. They don't need to be quarrelsome in the argumentative sense when they can cut their way through a problem.

...Not that they do that if they don't have to. Hallownest is unique in how much slicing's been required. Moreso in how many times they have fought their siblings.

Still.

Remember to tell me how Greenhorn is exempt after they get into your other room. They gesture towards the door. They haven't forgotten!

The Knight dips their head and leans back a little, tapping a line above about their sibling's lack of response. They're difficult to read. I've tried to be careful, but most our interactions have mainly been when they're resting in a quiet nest, so I haven't much idea of what might upset them yet.

He shakes his head. He can't speak to physical fights, just what he knows of the Knight as a person. As far as Lemm's experience goes they have gone out of their way to avoid argument, not that it's always worked on him.

"Pah. Greenhorn wouldn't dare." Lemm's confident look fades a tad as he glances across at the curtained room, not so certain about that answer now it's out.

...Regardless. More important things to be concerned with. This is dismissed.

Difficult to read? For the Knight, as well? He supposes that makes perfect sense, but it still comes as a mild surprise.

"Don't take them by their memorial," he advises. And thinks a bit longer, ticking a fingertip against the counter. Eventually he heaves an exasperated sigh and shakes his head. "S'all I have, this sort of thing's out of my range. You'll have to take it as it comes. And keep a cooler head than me, which shouldn't be hard."

Lemm glances at their joined hands and reminds himself he is supposed to be slipping out of high anxiety mode, not into it. Right.

"Any thoughts on what to do about the mining-bug, yet?"

Edited (how many ellipses can i fit into one paragraph let's not find out) 2023-02-14 15:56 (UTC)

The Knight stops writing to stare directly into Lemm's face.

Both of them are obviously questioning the wisdom of those words. They'll refrain from implying it further, then, not least because Greenhorn might genuinely expect free access.

I'll try not to. I don't know if I would've thought of that. True enough. Could you elaborate more on what happened?

They rock back again, tipping further this time. Their shared grip keeps them from dropping all the way into lying down.

Lord of Shades presence might help? Physical distance may have done something.
I'll be visiting Seer to see if she knows anything after this.

He waits to give the first thing some thought, even as he reads the latter and nods.

The self-imposed limits he's put on regarding where he might go and who he might talk to have held him back from meeting her yet - almost as much as his disdain for new faces. "I still don't have a grasp on what you told me, but if anything's... floating about in your dreams after the Lord of Shades... happened," he is struggling with these concepts also, but never mind, moving on "then yes, I guess that's exactly where I'd start. Might want to work up to it a bit," he adds, with a meaningful look.

Nothing else he can offer there. Ugh, his collection for a problem he can actually work on! Well, the first question will do for now. Lemm takes a breath and does his best to recount.

"I walked with the Hollow Knight from the Royal Quarter to my shop, and we passed the Memorial on the way. And they just..." He flickers his free hand in the air vaguely. "Started scrambling away from it on their knees. Did all this staring, all fidgety and strange. Looked like -"

Well, they didn't look like them, quite so much, but it had clicked into the same place as seeing the Knight upset. A different flavour of upset, maybe. Neither of which Lemm has a taste for.

He stalls.

"Looked bad," he finishes, simply. "You want the rest?"

Give it practice? That or be tactful. They somewhat doubt that's his meaning--although they're reminded they have to expect her guests. Their discomfort isn't enough to entertain leaving Myla trapped, but they know they're going to be dealing with...oddness.

Not for the first time in Hallownest, the Knight wishes they could sigh. It seems to give some relief. (For Iselda in particular.)

Back to their sibling. They listen raptly, fixing details carefully into their mind. It's rough to imagine--it must have been worse to experience firsthand.

I They hesitate. If you think it could be useful. One incident isn't enough to properly predict others, but it's better than nothing at all.

"More or less." Sorry, his own tact is still lacking. He can't really elaborate enough to say don't frighten yourself worse with it to say exactly what he means, and partly he doesn't dare assume they'd take that well to begin with. "Go slow, at least."

Hopefully that will do. Lemm shrugs loosely, and gives their hand a faint squeeze to give them some signal he's about to let go. They had almost been using him as an anchor a moment ago; wouldn't do to let them topple backwards. Not during a serious conversation like this, anyway.

"Don't know if it would or wouldn't. All this is beyond me. But you should know the details before they earn the label of 'things I've kept to myself'." He looks mildly uncomfortable. "I'll be brief. They went all rigid when I raised my voice, same sort of thing I suspect. And they clashed with Hornet," he finally tells them, and folds his hands together to stop himself fidgeting. A little of the guilty admission tone creeps back in: "She'd have clashed with me otherwise."

'Clashed with.' She would have skewered him. Lemm decisively leaves this out.

It's fair enough advice. Slightly rankling, but the intention and truth behind it is enough to keep annoyance from showing. This is a...delicate situation. Carefulness is paramount.

They let him pull back. Unconsciously, they wrap slightly further around the cushion.

Raised voice could be anything. The Radiance had loud thoughts with the Dream Nail, when they managed to use it. They'd put their bet on that.

The Knight bristles, head snapping up. Why?What happened? Again, they survey Lemm for possible injury, even though there wasn't any when they checked before.

Lemm has his own thoughts on why they'd reacted, though perhaps neither of them have come to conclusions that are mutually exclusive. It's just that despite him saying so, because it's the easiest way to get the sense across... he hadn't gotten all that much louder.

Lemm, in turn, bristles. He sits up straighter.

"Nothing! I didn't do anything." Not completely true. The guilt worming its way back through him says so, anyway. "I suspect she wasn't pleased to see the Hollow Knight with - in my shop, that's as far as I can figure it. They agreed to come out of the rain. I didn't do anything," he repeats, less insistent and more... mildly pleading.

They immediately try to relax. It wasn't about him, it was about her, and what she did, and--what happened?

But he doesn't know. Lemm wouldn't hide if he'd provoked Hornet somehow.

That their sibling had gotten in-between, that's--that's the big mystery. The Knight doesn't know why they'd fight her in Lemm's stead, or defense, or what. I's upsetting and alarming. And not his fault.

~~She didn't~~ and you were unhurt? They were unhurt?

He seems to relax a bit when there's no sign of a pushback. Logically he knows, he knows; the Knight was not accusing him. Despite this he couldn't help rising to his own inexplicable sense of wrongdoing. Some things are engrained.

Lemm gives a plain nod. "All three unharmed," he responds, just to be factual. "Though I can't say I liked seeing the Hollow Knight rush about like that, after... what you told me of them. I'm guessing Hornet would have someone check them over, after."

He tilts his head, still troubled.

"I had no warning, and not a clue how to conduct myself. If we happen to meet again I'd be inclined to be better equipped." Hint, hint. "Though I won't expect Hornet to change her mind, after the impression I gave."

Lemm is not a trained warrior, and their sibling has had enough of injury. Hornet, they hold less concern about. She was a bigger threat in this situation, and she'd survive a knock or two.

After they think this, they suspect they should feel guilt. Perhaps they'll be guilty about the lack of that guilt later.

I apologize, they write to Lemm, still. You wouldn't hide if it were your fault. You already told me you didn't know what happened. I am worried and unsure how to respond to it.

The Knight isn't used to worrying about anyone, much less several at once. Not when it involves the closest friend they've had in--a long, long time. Certainly not when the siblings they only fairly recently learned they have are acting unpredictably.

I'll ask both of them about it all. Very soon. I would prefer to be equipped too.

Relic Seeker Lemm is not used to worrying either, and is almost as out of his depth regarding how to navigate this situation. Not quite, maybe, but still far less than most. But: he is getting a damn sight better at realising when he's being unreasonable.

The finger-drumming on the counter starts up again for a short stint, and then stops again just as quickly when he comes to some private conclusion. Lemm shakes his head.

"No," he sighs. "No apology necessary, Knight, I'm still tripping over myself it seems." The show of trust, however, is appreciated.

Which brings him to this.

"Tell me whatever you find out. I've a feeling I should take an interest."

This, too, isn't quite right. Rather it isn't specific enough. Lemm stares down at the counter for a bit, suddenly intent.

"They're your family, do you see? I ought to pay attention to them as well, at least from a distance. For the..." His gaze flicks sidelong to the stack of notes. "...Life you're building." That he is part of. That he would preferably not make a mess of on their behalf.

"The more information a scholar has the better they can do with it."

Their head twists abruptly towards the papers, and irrational displeasure makes itself known behind their mask.

But no, this was the point, this was important. Having their siblings' stories documented in all its ugly truths. It's simply that the ugly truth is still ongoing. Keeping their sibling--the Hollow Knight, title fitting in this case alone--from being known will do everything they've done and suffered through disservice.

It's only worry getting in the way. Truly in the way. They need to know their tallest sibling better on their own.

And Lemm deserves that to know, if they're going to be wandering Hallownest more. If the...life they're building continues to include him.

The Knight nods quietly, rose-gold quill held in motionless claws.

They are... quiet, in the way he has come to think of that term when around a Vessel.

Perhaps he has miscommunicated.

Or they have changed their mind, and. (This thought is cut off too late, and a deep-cutting unpleasantness twists through his chest. Lemm resists the urge to return his hand to it.)

No. They nod, then. They were just thinking, their mind wanders, he reminds himself of this resolutely. If he doesn't have faith in their answers, past and present, he might as well give up now and throw all his hard work into the Waterways.

But that hesitancy... It's going to sit ill with him for a while if he doesn't clarify.

"...You've no obligation, of course. It was just a request. I'm not very good at making it sound like one, but that's all it was."

Their head dips more firmly this time.

~~I want~~ ~~It isn't~~

They scratch the words out in frustration and run the soft end of the quill over I am worried and unsure how to respond to it again. A few bristles catch and leave tiny lines of inky smears running across the thicker glyphs.

I will. I want to. when I think about it. When I don't my emotions trend toward defensive.
~~They~~ We
I believe we should stop discussing this for now.

Edited 2023-02-15 09:46 (UTC)

That works.

Lemm can relate, anyway, and when they finish writing he holds up a hand in understanding, or at least in agreement that they should stop.

"Ah - no, I meant that plainly. I won't hang on your word."

Their hesitation hadn't bothered him because he wanted an answer - though he did, too. It bothered him because he could tell they felt pressured. Lemm is trying to disengage. Clumsily.

"How..." He pauses, unsure, and scratches at his face sheepishly. "How d'you fare with tea? Occurred to me lately it's still a hot cup, whether it gets drunk or not."

...Hos...pitality?

The subject change is taken gratefully.

And with an air of obvious bafflement, the way they eye him.

I can't drink it normally. I can take the liquid in, but I can't taste it. They pat the cushion covering the general area of where a bug would have a stomach. Which is the point of tea? Or so they thought. Lemm seems to be implicitly offering it.

...They have told him they don't eat before now, haven't they?

Edited 2023-02-15 16:07 (UTC)

Lemm sits back and folds his arms, haughty.

"The point of tea's whatever you get out of it," he declares, as if this is something everyone agrees on, which... seems debatable. "Didn't say you had to drink it. It's taste or it's smell or it's having warm hands. Or it's the making of it," he adds as an afterthought, then dismisses this with a hand-flick. "Never mind. If you don't see the point I'll not offer again, I'm still working out what kind of host I am."

He might be backpedalling a bit. The trouble is he never knows what to offer, but every social convention seems to suggest that he should.

"Not very good at small talk," he declares, after a moment. "But I've made no progress to report in my work, so here we are, with me trying to find accommodations to make and coming up short. If you'd like to go back to pretending you don't talk that'd do me some favours in the social department - I'm much better at calling you names and waffling on about relics." All of this is said with a surprising lack of awkwardness, and maybe a small measure of humour. It's just the facts, and Lemm doesn't mind being straightforward.

Hmm.

I can make some with or for you, if you like. I don't need any, but I've been told I'm not unskilled as a cook. I don't think it was for politeness' sake.

The Knight knows the making food and such can hold meaning, but they don't often receive that...hospitality. Definitely not after their odd consumption habits are known.

The Knight decides to go with that and, rather than write, drums the cushion with both paws. They're not using it as intended, but it's still a hostly accommodation, isn't it?

That's not what he meant.

That is his knee-jerk reaction, but despite himself his head turns just a notch in the direction of the back room. The notion of making tea, of the going through the motions of it, with the Knight, just for the sake of it... He can picture it for some reason. Except in his mind's eye there is far less mess, and he knows it.

A pause while Lemm eyes the cushion. He'd almost commented that they'd found some use of that, but it seemed ill-advised to point out they seemed to have settled on hugging the thing. Apparently they aren't fussy that he'd notice.

"It's too cluttered back there," he decides eventually. "We'd lose you in the mess. I could..." Tidy? Lemm shakes his head and gives up with a sigh. "Nowhere to put anything. Wasn't a terrible idea though." What happened to plain old not wanting them in his space?

Wait. He's missed a trick, there.

"You cook?"

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