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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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?"

They shrug. They hardly care, but neither will they push. It's his home, and if he says there isn't enough room, the Knight'll believe it.

I'm capable. It's been a long while since the last time, but I can be trusted not to poison unintentionally.

They pause.

Usually. I'm not that familiar with the area, and don't know if Hallownest's meat and plant are toxic from Infection.
I could probably figure out tea you already have supply of.

More things to learn about the Knight. Lemm leans back in as he reads, a lot less aloof than he was before.

"I've no doubts you'd be sharp enough to learn, that's not what I meant. But if you don't eat it strikes me as odd you'd..."

Ah.

"For other bugs," he concludes with only a marginal amount of figuring out. He dips his head in acknowledgement. "Not the type myself. Also happens I can't vouch for my own ability that way, but I don't burn the kitchen down at any rate." Lemm tries to think of the last time he bothered using the stove for its main purpose and draws a private blank. Hm.

"Can't say I've felt affected by eating anything, but my options have been limited. Wouldn't like to guess for the carnivores either." He tilts his head thoughtfully. "I'd trust something you made, I think. Intentional poison notwithstanding." The way they phrased it tickled him.

A nod. The times they had to travel with others were spent learning many odd tasks. There's also something to be said about starting a meal before anyone else normally would to hurry things along.

Thank you. The Knight ducks their head a little. They know where their skills lie in Nail-wielding and the like; that he'd believe their word on something they can't experience is...another starling bit of trust.

Although I don't expect I'll be doing much any time soon. Writing this, they're already making a list in the back of their mind of plants they might consider reasonable. Most of Greenpath is out, with how rooted they are in acid, and how carnivorous some of that is--oh, but they could go ask Sheo and the Nailsmith, they'd doubtless have a solid idea of their surroundings.

Lemm nods. "It's ingredients that're the hard part. Underground communities always suffer for variance. I doubt Hallownest could support a population like that again without reinstating imports." Lemm catches himself wanting to veer off into a historical debate and coughs lightly. "...Haven't been cooking much," he admits just to get off that particular track.

Absently, because he is thinking about food and because he was eating them earlier, he slides the candy jar towards himself and gets as far as plucking one out before remembering himself. The Knight is eyed with some measure of inner debate before Lemm decides he's going to attract questions putting it back and just pops it quickly into his mouth.

"Preserved stuff is easier to find in a place like this. Dried or pickled or what have you. Convenient for a bug who doesn't want to stay away from his work for long, as well." Is that telling? Lemm hopes not, but he's not stupid... "I can point you to a few places I haven't searched, if it interests you. I know you have other friends who eat."

If you like. They can find more for him if he needs it. And they might find something to use, if they find an urge to cook; Lemm would be the only to appreciate it.

They pause, staring at nothing.

That isn't true. Myla likely would. Most of Dirtmouth could. Some of Deepnest might. The Knight...hasn't thought to offer until now.

I plan on checking the Hive to see if I can pilfer some eventually. Honey lasts and the majority of bugs seem to like it. Without moving their head, they glance at the emptier jar.

Then their stare slides over to the stack of papers. The historically-significant papers, though what they saw looked like general conversation.

They're historically significant and not only from their travelling across Hallownest, which they knew and yet strikes them again.

I would prefer if it kept away from my current pr situations, but I don't mind if you want to talk/ask about more history otherwise.

Something he can be helpful about, at last! While they keep writing the rest, Lemm thinks for a while.

"Most of the north end I've not gotten around to." He is still obviously talking around the sweet in his mouth, though he's trying to be discreet about it. "And the Royal Quarter. The street level gates I could usually find my way around, but these towers are a navigational nightmare as soon as a few doors are locked. And I've a feeling I should keep my territory away from the main street now I know there're inhabitants, but you can do as you please."

Okay, reading the rest now. Lemm looks somewhat shy of what they've said, and takes a little while to respond.

"I'd be one of them," he admits, tapping seem to like it with a hesitant claw. Then, with a soft crunch as he bites down: "Obviously."

And he stalls, then.

"I... know you don't mind. You're funny like that. Just picking my moments. I've a tendency to go on until I'm stopped, and I don't want to fill all our time with history talk." Lemm looks terribly awkward about this. "I've been enjoying... not that. As well." Handwave! "Though if you prefer-?"

They could break down those doors now, as they've realized before but haven't yet done.

--They could climb the towers and break the windows, if they tried. This idea is deeply entertaining, no matter how quickly they realize they shouldn't. Too much water might get in and ruin more of what's left. Doors only.

And here comes annoyance. Millibelle's still around here? They assume she's who he means, outside of Emilitia. The Knight's genuinely surprised she hasn't been frightened off yet.

To that, they nod. You gave me the idea, they inform him, mildly amused.

Although, nearly as awkward, they stare at the page in front of them for a little while before admitting I enjoy most of our conversation, but I'm not sure what else to say now. My mind is full of they make a half-arc gesture at nothing with their free paw difficulties.

Lemm's reaction to the Millibelle question is a derisive scoff and an air of general annoyance, as is probably correct. "Might be that she comes and goes, but I've seen her a few times now, in the Pleasure House or scavenging nearby. If she knows what's good for her she'll stay out of my way, but otherwise it's none of my business who wants to hang about in the capital."

Is - was he so obvious? Lemm glances at the candy jar and estimates that yes, probably, he was. Which means they considered it on his behalf.

"Oh." He scrambles to mask how deeply his appreciation for that runs, though mostly it bleeds through regardless. "Well. You're sharp. Not sure why I'm surprised." Despite himself, he reaches into the jar for another honey candy. Whatever. Hardly matters any more that they see him eat these, does it?

It occurs to Lemm that perhaps some of why they stayed to listen - before they both got to know each other, anyway - might have been for the distraction of it. Goodness knows he leans into that himself.

Now more aware of this fact, Lemm considers what this means for the ways he might be helpful, which still weighs heavily on his mind.

"...History chatter I can do quite well," he tells them, slowly committing. "As you know. I'm sure I can fill our time with that, though I think at my best when there's a relic in my hands." Subtly, Lemm nods his horn in the direction of his shelves.

The Knight shakes their head to show off their matching irritation. Why is she even staying? There are better places to travel to gather wealth.

...Unless she's survived in the ruin since Hallownest's fall. Or she's trapped here, too weak to ford back through the wastes even with her vault-like defense.

Their head shakes more sharply, dispelling these thoughts. They'd rather keep from linger on sympathy for someone who stabbed them in the back. Actual stabbing in the back would have been less insulting.

They'll just--let her be as much as they have been.

Lemm is peered up at before they shift to the side, following his horn's pointing, where there is...a lot to look at. They haven't in a while; it's only the background to the shop, and the shopkeeper. And there aren't any weapons to go for, if he wants them to pick. (A similarity the sibling Knights share, though they don't know it.)

Did I bring you any interesting Journals before? they ask in lieu of getting up.

There were weapons once, at least a couple of smaller daggers more for show than use. These have been largely tidied away out of sight, or even moved to the back. The whole collection had been somewhat shuffled around to put the pointier stuff at the back of the shelves, though in his anxious wait for the Knight to report back, Lemm had somewhat messed this attempt around again as he tried to kill time.

"All of them are interesting," he replies, brightening considerably. And then quite abruptly he dampens it and has a re-think.

Because - the Knight has written to him once on this topic, and it had been when he'd been dismissive of their losses. I found the corpses of other bugs who must've thought the same. A lot of them made it far. I sold some of their journals to you. He doesn't need to, but Lemm finds himself staring at their notes again.

He looks up a moment later, somewhat more gathered.

"Hm. A lot of them ended unpleasantly. I gather you're aware of this." Lemm slips out of his seat and begins sorting idly through a pile of Wanderer's Journals, hunting for any with less morbidity. "You'll forgive me for being enthusiastic. That's just the thing about history; everyone's gone and died before I read about them and I'm a bit far removed from that fact by now. D'you have a preference on location?"

They make a gesture to acknowledge this. That's alright. They're well aware, and they're generally not made so raw about the deaths of strangers.

Not the Crystal Peaks, they decide. Anywhere else is just as well. I never tried to read any of them in my hurry, but now I can wonder other perspectives.

At the sound of their pen, Lemm turns and half-steps back over to scan their words from a distance, then nods. That's understandable. He turns back to his task.

"Might've had trouble if you did. Plenty of them were written in thick dialect. S'a struggle getting your head around it sometimes."

He picks out something that seems innocuous and almost turns to bring it back to the counter before catching the word coliseum and dropping it with a distinctive thud. They said not Crystal Peak, and he's decided not Kingdom's Edge, either.

Lemm eventually returns to his seat with a different one, resting it comfortably in one hand and partly against the counter. With a glance at the Knight, he clears his throat and begins reading.

"Were it appointment mine that - ah, bother, you're one of those." Lemm scans ahead a bit, then tries again. "...Right. If I were appointed to a more importunate task I would forge ahead, but with no haste, prudence begs me to seek shelter. Eyes seek me from the green verges and unease clouds my duty..."

He pauses here, and chances a look at the Knight again to see what they're making of this.

"I'm not doing a voice," he states, mostly joking. "Anyway this one's from Greenpath. Tourist following the Pilgrim's Way by the sound of it. S'this one too dense?"

They're paying attention, though they're not indicating much. In truth, they were expecting Lemm to jump onto asking them for more information, not give them his own. They determine this is another indicator of...trust. Friendship. Something along that track.

The Knight half-shrugs with one arm. Dense, yes. Enough to put them off, no. It takes a lot to do such. Especially in this circumstance--listening to a friend share something. Read me all the fancy words you wish.
I wonder if they were fearing the Mosscreeps.

Lemm already knows quite well how he feels about being listened to. He is prepared for the contented feeling that settles on him at their invitation to continue, though it's still unfamiliar all the same. As in Great Knight Ze'mer's home, it is a different kind of content than chatting in the Knight's direction had been before they picked up a pen. He's surer that they're listening, and that they want to. They have their own thoughts. It's nice.

He does a little more preparative reading. Parsing this stuff into more understandable wording takes time, though luckily this is a dialect he's familiar with already.

"Likely they were. We can suspect good reason for it, if this is from the period I think it is."

He goes on. The journal is not massively lengthy, despite the flowery prose; it speaks of a bug spooked very much by the erratic behaviour of some of the inhabitants of Greenpath, who seemed to be actively following the writer at a distance. For fear of being set upon in some way, the bug had sought a hiding-place and remained there - only to notice their only exit haunted by more of the same.

Lemm theorises this was about when the Infection was setting in. And then he starts meandering a bit, discussing the details that imply where the bug might be from, why they'd head to Hallownest's capital, and the like. Then he gets onto the topic of linguistics.

He is likely going to be at this for some time.

The Knight scoffs with a twitch of their head. Mosscreeps. Weaklings that nobody should fear. Some may even find them cute. Even Infected, they were an irritation more than threat. The Moss Knights and the things with spikes were the only opponents they'd worried about.

Along with the acid. Not for the first time, they send gratefulness in Isma's direction for her Tear.

They continue listening patiently to all of Lemm's reading and explanations. Occasionally, they take a moment to scratch out their own thoughts, such as wondering if knowledge of the Infection's apparent reemergence was being suppressed intentionally, and asking a little elaboration about the theorized homeland to privately try working out if they notice anything familiar.

Weak they are, though there's something to be said for the strange erraticism forced out of living creatures by the onset of Infection. Likely the writer of the journal did more to spook themselves into a corner than their odd onlookers ever did.

Lemm has thoughts about the deliberate obfuscation of information. He suspects the Knight is entirely correct, and tells them as much. Now isn't the time for him to get as animated about that as he'd like - they're trying to lower the stress levels in the room, not raise them - but he makes his opinion crystal clear, with a carefully-managed tone. Those in charge back then deserve a kicking. Stupid way of going about it. Speaking as a scholar, of course.

The Knight's interest in tracing the dialect (he... thinks?) is addressed with patience and detail. There are a couple of places he passed on the way to Hallownest that still have traces of this way of speaking, and Lemm describes the locations.

"...Some of the closest waypoints, in fact. One's a temple, or it was - repurposed into a rest stop by settlers long after it fell into disuse. The other's a shabby little overground town, not unlike..."

Lemm remembers too late that the Knight lives in Dirtmouth. And cares about that place even if they didn't. He stumbles awkwardly into the next sentence and hopes not finishing that thought will count as even slightly graceful.

"...It's to the west of here, if I remember rightly, in the lee of a hill. Locals are shieldbugs mostly, with some foreigners. Probably friendlier than I gave them credit, but then I was in a damn sour mood by then."

The Knight agrees with quiet intensity, though they counter with a tiny bit of understanding. None would want to believe the plague was returning. The denial of the desperate is powerful, as they've experienced firsthand multiple times.

In particular, any potential for fondness for the White Lady was long outweighed by disgusted pity--but they refrain from continuing, if Lemm doesn't intentionally prod. They still haven't visited her since before.

They know what he was going to say, and don't comment. They're fond of it, but he's entirely right; most of Dirtmouth is its own ruin.

I think I passed through there, they note with some surprise. From the Journal, they were wondering at further lands they'd wandered across, a long time ago. This is recent history, they think, with an internal flash of humor. I was moving too quickly to assess it. None of them got in the way, at least.

Interesting. Lemm tilts his head quizzically and considers that.

"On your return journey? Likely you came from the same general direction as I did then. Not that it narrows anything down." Lemm waves this off. "I was in a hurry, as well. At least I was trying to be. Getting proper directions out there is like picking at a stuck moult."

This is said with only a little venom. It seems likely this is a Lemm problem, and he knows it.

Short as their experience of the place might have been, he's curious. Comparing travel notes is not something he often found the opportunity to do.

"Still, maybe you saw that shieldbug leader with the antique staff, in passing? The young one. Not a clue how to handle the role. Had her ceremonial sash on backwards."

Tap, tap, tap goes their claw on the quill, showing they're thinking about it.

And they are trying to recall, but they also realize why they wouldn't. At that poiny they knew, somewhere in their gut, that they were nearly there. Nearly to where they heard some kind of world-rending scream of desperation, which they know now was their breaking sibling, or the Radiance tearing through whatever taut remains of connection--that still, somehow, existed through their sibling to reach them.

They told Lemm they didn't want to discuss their current situation.

That isn't exactly current. The Knight doesn't know how they feel about potentially discussing it so suddenly.

...Having their mind bouncing between wanting-to, not-wanting-to is getting obnoxiously familiar.

I could have? Someone with a pike or staff tried to either greet or question me, but I didn't pay attention.

Edited 2023-02-17 08:24 (UTC)

As much as the Knight has shared with Lemm about their past - and it's a lot, it is a lot - there are plenty of details Lemm does not have, and many of them are tucked into places he would be unlikely to think to ask about. The simple reason being... why would anyone think to? Their situation is uniquely strange.

There is always a chance of him stumbling across these things by accident. More than once he has come close to this one.

"Aye, that'd be her," Lemm guesses, faintly but equally amused and irritated by the memory. "S'what I mean. Too heavy-handed. It's a pity," he adds with a headshake, "they used to be poets, if their literature is to be believed. Things change."

Lemm stops to think about what the Knight has just told him, again.

"Sounds like you were in more of a rush than I was, or better at getting directions. Well, you didn't miss much, if it's any consolation."

Edited 2023-02-17 08:51 (UTC)

They distractedly nod. It's possible they still do, and just aren't interested in sharing with rude travellers, but there's no need to mention that. It's not as if the Knight knows.

I didn't stop at all.
No doubt I came off as incredibly rude.

It's up to them to bring it up or not.

Tap, tap, tap.

~~I didn't know~~
I could discuss some my own and my sibling's unpleasant history, if this is currently acceptable.

~~Every chance.~~

"Well, no use worrying about how we come across to bugs we'll never meet again." Ah, though he has no idea if that will be true for the Knight. Hallownest is comparatively small, he supposes, for how far they must have travelled. The thought occurs to him that the Knight might opt to wander away from it, and that is an... unwanted thought. He drops it quickly.

They're fidgeting. Lemm watches closely, mindful of what that could mean. And he's right to be wary, if the next thing they write is any indication.

He straightens up a bit and offers a firm affirmation. "Of course it's acceptable. I told you I'd hear all of it, didn't I?" His curiosity sparks up despite the gravity of anything Knight-related, and Lemm is just quick to temper it. He can't help his nature, but he can act proper about this. In a gentler tone, Lemm offers an out. "...Hm. But is it a good idea? 'M only saying."

They've been stressed. Understatement of the century. Lemm is not about to encourage them to make it worse when they came to his shop for... a visit.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject