voicetest the voiceless

[focusedvoid]

They're not dead.

Less dead than they'd felt, at least. Their shell doesn't normally take so long to reform.

Then again. Their shell doesn't usually break of their own violation as they ascended in a boiling rage, ate at least one realm, a god, and all the Godseekers.

(That last point is debatable, actually. There's some odd sense, deep under their...shell? Void? Wherever they once stored things like Isma's Tear, much deeper now...that the sea-mind is still there, sluggish and held in a stasis. They're already adjusting enough, and they don't seem to be dying or trying to kill them, so that problem is neatly sorted as 'for later'.)

They push their body to stand. Their horn clangs uncomfortably loudly against the grate they've apparently woken up beneath. They're somewhere in the Royal Waterways. A quick check of the map--or, not so quick, as it takes time to locate where it had been--shows they've risen about halfway through, closer to the City of Tears than the White Palace. They'll go to the Stag Station in the City Storerooms next.

So they think. Complications arise on the way.

The Infection is gone, leaving dead Flukes, Pilflips, and Hwurmps in piles enough it takes time to force their way past. Their body seems too small. No, their body is fine--there's something wrong with perception itself. That will take time to adjust to.

Then, they discover the Monarch Wings now stretch and warp when used, twisting around the nearest pipes after landing before the Knight forcibly calls them back. Shade Wings, they decide to call these.

Once they're high enough to hear the rain above, they realize a noise they'd ascribed to water running in the distance is, in fact, something swirling behind their mask. Many somethings. All the fragments of Siblings with enough self left, staring out from their eyes. It's disconcerting.

By the time they actually get out of the Waterways, they're using their Shade Wings to grip ledges and drag themselves up, with those holding onto things better than their own arms are with the Mantis Claw. 

The Knight faceplants awkwardly onto the floor of the building Lemm's shop is in. If the City is the same as below, there's little left to try killing them in the area.

They'll just take a moment here, thanks.

Comments

[capitalcurator]

He's relieved when they just... get it. Making himself understood on matters like this is more difficult than it should be, no thanks in part to second-guessing his phrasing, among other things. His biggest concern is that they'd think he wasn't taking things seriously. Lemm gives a small nod.

He leans forward in his seat slightly to peer more closely at their drawing, studying it a moment; their further description is scrutinised the same way. When he sits back, he fixes his gaze on the opposite wall for a time, seemingly trying to picture it.

Lemm turns his attention back to the Knight, apparently satisfied with his understanding of... well, at least how they'd described the call. He doubts he'll ever understand fully.

"You had a compass in your head, and the magnet was... here," he offers, along with a small gesture up at the ceiling to clarify. He knows the comparison isn't quite right but it will hopefully let them know he's got the gist.

He is quiet for a moment.

"You followed without understanding. And from there... Ah. From there - Kingsoul, Brand, Dream Nail, Abyss." He counts on his fingers. "But there was a great deal before then, in between." Another pause. Lemm gives the Knight a fairly unreadable look. "You were working blind on a task you didn't understand for a long time, it seems - s'that right?"

[focusedvoid]

They Knight gives a small nod. They could scrape endlessly at the details until they run out of paper--compass magnet works well enough, even if it loses some of without the concept of the light intrinsically linked.

Yes. I wasn't sure of myself for much of it, though none of it stopped me.
As you know.

I thought perhaps I was mad at times, before I started learning enough to know there was something to it. But if I wasn't, I couldn't leave it. It was there I can't describe it. Some creatures screamed like it when I challenged them here, but it wasn't the same as that first time. Those were all the Radiance, I believe. The first was not her alone.
I can still hear them. sometimes.

A pause, brief, as the Knight's unoccupied paw settles above the hole of their eye. The same eye their sibling's mask radiates a crack.

And if I was mad, at least I was going somewhere new. I didn't need to be where I was. I simply was.

[capitalcurator]

"Being sure of yourself when you're starting something is overvalued. Sometimes your heart's more set than your head. Anyway I doubt there's much in this world that could have stopped you. A very tenacious thing, you are."

The rest...

Lemm takes his time with the rest. His hand moves mostly unconsciously and feathers his fingertips underneath their writing, half-following as he reads. He is unreadable himself, for a time.

"And you know now it's Hallownest itself that's mad," he says - and it is not up for debate, by the way he says it so factually. "It was, and is, a result of a load of unbelievable misconceptions, oversights, and atrocious decisions. Anyone would start to question themselves in a place like this, and in a position like yours. You're clear on that now, are you?"

This should be addressed first, and with care.

[focusedvoid]

Their head tips up to look at him, paw sliding down until it's resting on the bottom of their mask. The Knight is quietly bewildered for a moment, before going over his words again.

Yes. I do.
I do now.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I wondered if it was true. This writing is more rushed. I don't always feel as much as other bugs seem to. I wondered if there was truth to it. That Vessels cannot feel, and so I don't. It's been I've I know it isn't. Things have changed now that I've been here long enough. But when I learned I wondered.

[capitalcurator]

He notices they're writing faster as easily as he would if it was spoken word. Nerves, then, or more likely something quite a bit deeper; Lemm holds his place steadfastly and waits for them to finish, reading just a little bit behind their pen.

Halfway through, one finger begins tapping anxiously at the counter. Still he holds his response, because they should be allowed to finish before he lunges in with a rebuttal.

When the Knight seems to come to a stop again, Lemm quickly shifts two fingers over to the bottom of the page and taps on it twice, as if to indicate a stop, just in case they might have continued on. He needs an input, here. It's important.

"What'd you feel when I upset you that first time? When I was being... smart. Told you I'd go where I wanted. You left my shop in a mess. I know you've decided you're past this already, but I reckon it bears the question again now. Don't write. Think on it, but don't write." His hand lies flat on the counter, far from preventing them from touching their pen to the page again, but his fingertips lie on the bottom edge of the page as a reminder.

[focusedvoid]

Their quill nearly stabs the paper, but Lemm--asks. He's not in the way, he's only asking, and they stop from scribbling how, as they wrote already, they already know it isn't true anymore. They know what they felt--furious, hurt.

And grief. Grief that they hadn't been able to stop and let happen. That was the emotion that underlined it all.

[capitalcurator]

The minute jerk, the way they hold the pen. That's indicator enough that his question landed how he intended.

He lets them steep in it for a moment, but not too long. A moment is enough; longer would be cruel.

"That's you," he concludes, jabbing a finger in their direction, ignoring the sharp stab of a reminder that he was the one to make them feel that way. "You had every right to feel it, and you did! Hurt hurts."

Out-loud acknowledgement that he did hurt them is... hard, too, but necessary.

"And you certainly let me know about it, didn't you? Mind, will, and voice. Never mind what anyone else thinks, or's been led to think - we know better. Getting paraded through a spring let me know better. Being painted in graffiti let me know better, and I wore the proof." Lemm's fingers slip from the paper and he folds his arms, withdrawing slightly to give them space. "Hearing you're cold doesn't make it true. Even if it's all you hear."

[focusedvoid]

They didn't need the reassurance.

They were only--explaining. Confessing.

Still, they realize the sting of insult at Lemm's rough kindness is wrong. It isn't allowed to sway them into an outward snap.

The Knight runs their claws under I know it isn't.

They start to write enough times that there are blots of ink blocking off a chunk of the next line before they truly begin.

I haven't hadn't been able to care about anything for a significant amount of time before now. I have not had family. I have not had friends. I have not had connection to place or person, as a shadow that wandered for so long along the edges of where others are.
My siblings, you, the ones who I met again and again in Hallownest have changed this/reminded me.

[capitalcurator]

He knows it was likely unnecessary, and their insistence as such is not reassuring that he made a good decision. It is a comfortable relief that they do know this, anyway. And that's not why he said it.

Lemm is more patient for them to finish this time.

He doesn't quite know what to say to that. Tentatively, his hand comes to rest beside their paper, palm-up, a silent invitation.

"I didn't say all of that because I thought you hadn't worked it out yourself," he explains. His eyes are fixed on their writing like he's committing it to heart. "I said it because you ought to hear it from someone else. Someone who isn't you."

Still locked on the page, Lemm sighs softly, and with his other hand he taps have not had, have not had, have not had.

"That's why I said it. So you'd have gotten to hear it from someone else. Want you to have that, at least."

[focusedvoid]

Yes.

When their mutual care and friendship was fully realized, there was a reason the Knight described Lemm as used to being overlooked, part of the background: they know what that is. They hadn't intended or expected to have him left believing the same.

It's why they made a point, here, when they normally wouldn't--when they wouldn't have before, when they wouldn't waste time for many others, that he is part of reminding them of the truth already.

And why they know he's likely right. Or he could be, eventually. It's better to have it out and open than hidden in only their own head.

It's better to have someone who assures them when they don't need it than no-one at all.

I'm grateful for you doing it. to remember if ever I forget. No matter how--hopefully--unlikely they feel that will be.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm is content with that response. More than, actually, because the way they've written to him...

"Aye," he mutters, and looks away, if only to gather his thoughts. "Sorry I went about it so clumsily."

...It sinks in slowly, every time. There are a lot of layers for their sentiments to get through and he never handles it gracefully. That they'd talk about connection like that and chase it with a list, and that he would be on it, is a kind reminder that he's going about this the wrong way.

The moment he walked in and saw them sitting there he was hit with the will to - a lot of things. To hurry forward, check them over, fuss - but he'd curbed all of it, made himself be slow and kept his distance. And talked too much, to flatten it. Silly; that hadn't been what they'd needed from him.

"Maybe..." That's the problem with trying it the other way, all his diction goes out of the window. He gives up on it.

Lemm takes his hand off the counter and makes an awkward little beckoning motion towards himself, instead.

[focusedvoid]

They take their head a little, nearly a twitch.

Lemm makes mistakes, which they can accept, but his reaction now isn't one. The raising of the emotion they certainly have wasn't a problem he needs blame for. And they're controlling the negative.

Mostly.

They hesitate, wondering--

...wondering more than they need to.

The Knight shuffles across the counter to settle well within reach; close enough to try leaning in against shell and beard, particularly careful not to catch the latter.

[capitalcurator]

For once the Knight taking a second to respond doesn't give him a spur of doubt, like it so often does, correctly or otherwise. It is within purview that they might simply not want to be bothered with a hug right now, and it's even more likely he just isn't being specific enough. Either is not an issue.

He doesn't have quite enough time to consider clarifying, because they come closer and lean in.

Lemm's arms wrap the Knight and pull them a bit more closely to him, and he gives a soft sigh out at the room.

It feels unfair to invite them into something that traps their writing hand and then come at them with another question, so Lemm manages to convince himself to stay peacably quiet for a time. That's all, until they decide it's enough.

[focusedvoid]

Some might consider this one going on for too long; compared to the last hug (first hug), in Dirtmouth, it's certainly isn't. They're filled with a sensation similar to Shade's been returned, and they've been drained of Soul.

When they pull away, they don't move very far at all. Lemm can likely read between their horns.

This is also why I began our excursions out of sorts. It's been quite some time since I travelled with others, and even longer peaceably.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm initiated this in the hopes it would be for their benefit - their comfort, specifically. And it seems to be accomplishing that goal, which is a relief. But now that it's happening he would be lying if he claimed it wasn't doing much the same for him. Subtly, he dips his head and just barely touches a horn to theirs. The way it feels to hold on so comfortably is carefully archived, safely kept in the same place in his memory that their notes go.

When he lets go, a hand finds its way to the top of their head and rests there for a moment in a quiet, acknowledging way before he pulls back properly and reads from where he's sitting. He seems content with the Knight to sit close in front of him like that, and doesn't move otherwise.

"True enough for me as well. And we'll get back to it, after all this other business of yours is sorted out." He sounds confident it will be. "Though I'd imagine your time will be in high demand. I was right about them liking you up there."

[focusedvoid]

You were. Despite the kind intentions, they tip their head back and nudge him with the dull edge of one horn; they get it, they get it, thank you.

Do you have any exploration thoughts? Or questions about places I've been? Since they're talking about both already.

[capitalcurator]

Slightly flustered by this, Lemm retreats a bit in his seat, folding his arms to close himself off a bit. Getting this way has crept up on him. He would flush, if it were at all possible.

"...No. Yes." What was the question? He clears his throat and starts again. "Aye, plenty. Queen's Gardens I'd like to hear about - have done for some time, in fact. As for a trip..."

That's somewhat more complicated, because there are a lot of places he'd very much like to go, but most of them he suspects are not prudent to mention at the moment because they verge a little too close to the places the Knight does not want them to go.

"Playing my cards safely is quite difficult!" he admits. "Wanted to do some studies in Greenpath, on the pre-Hallownest side of things, but I've not a clue what it's like now the plague is gone. Hive's probably off limits, is it?"

Crystal Peak and Kingdom's Edge, no. Fog Canyon, not allowed. Deepnest, not allowed. Lots of bugs (and other) he's got on a mental list? Not allowed either.

"Lot of places're off limits," he finishes, managing not to sound annoyed.

Lemm has mostly restricted himself, and has also mostly forgotten this fact.

[focusedvoid]

They pull out the map and unfurl it to Queen's Gardens, though they'll answer the other subject first. (They don't hold much love for the place.)

The Hive still needs checking. It was closed off and the Queen Vespa is dead, but they believed she wasn't under Infection. Things may have changed claws there if there were enough survivors, or they may all be dead as well.

The colony-minded types are incredibly resilient--up to a point, in the Knight's experience. Once it tipped past that, they only had themselves to repopulate and rarely let others in, and so the hive or mound or fortress would fall apart in unmatched speed and intensity.

They twist their head around, a single black circle eyeing him. Deepnest, Mantis Village, and Crystal Peak I lack confidence in guiding you through. The first and last are confusing and have tunnels that collapse unpredictably into spikes. The Mantis Tribe I would prefer to avoid politicking/challenging more than necessary.

Greenpath should be simple so long as you can jump well: acid and thorns are its primary threats.
Unn's remaining people don't seem to care about my presence. If need be, I'm easily capable of fending them off.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm resists the urge to grumble about any of this. It's fair, he knows. It's more than fair. This is why he agreed.

A sigh. "Aye, aye. Nothing I didn't expect." He hopes he's allowed to be disappointed. He's not going to pretend. "As always, you're the guide. Believe I've made it clear what I think about you throwing yourself into trouble on my behalf. I know the risks we're minimising, so you can stop looking for dissent."

...They'll catch him staring a little too long at that last part, if they're still looking. He seems to be mulling something over.

"Depends," he reluctantly mutters. He offers nothing else for a while, and when he does it's just what they've already told him, repeated. "Sounds like a lot of leaping about, then, is it?"

[focusedvoid]

Lemm's bother strikes them as baffling, and perhaps a trace stinging.

They eye him a little longer, as though understanding will fall out of his beard. Naturally it doesn't, and neither can they come up with wording to ask after it. He's not refusing, which is most important, they decide.

Yes. Former walkways over acid lakes crumbled long ago, they report. The vines overgrew everything, though most thorns are rotting off. I swept several into acid on the way.

[capitalcurator]

He contemplates that for another moment, then shakes his head - mostly to himself, even if they're still looking.

"Pah, of course," he mutters, a little bit poisonously. "It's to be expected. Hallownest's a wreck as it is without brambles finding their way into the mix. I'll manage," he informs the Knight, as an afterthought when he realises they're probably waiting for confirmation on that.

Lemm sighs with some finality and fusses pre-emptively at his beard, already picturing how the thorns won't agree with it. He'll just have to keep his distance.

"The Kingdom for some solid walkways, hm? Whole place is a shambles. Might have to get in touch with that secret fixer-upper if it's the last thing I do. Maybe that one knows how to make a bridge or two." Said with the venom of someone who might have put that emphasis on a curse word before it instead, if he were so inclined.

[focusedvoid]

Alright. I'll try to get back soon. Even if Myla's situation isn't solved quickly, as much as they hope it is, they're less concerned. They can lead Lemm through Greenpath and leave her in the mapmakers' care for a little longer, should they ask it.

Cold guilt lances their chest at the thought--but if it takes so long, they'll need the relief of wandering, and Lemm likely does all the same.

To the rest, they nod with great emphasis.

...This is an perfect segue to the Queen's Gardens, to the Knight's regret.

They tap the map. (It's more of a slap.) There are many thorns and poor walkways there too. The thorns may or may not be rotting as well. The vertical paths are made of platforms that collapse under one's steps. Traps for intruders/Mantis Traitors? Irritating and dangerous.

[capitalcurator]

"Mm. No hurry." Is what he says, just as a quick little dismissal for the Knight's benefit. He's eager to travel with the Knight again, privately. The way they described Greenpath however means the place itself does not sit quite so enticingly as it could. No matter.

Their little show of disdain gets a faint huff. It's not amusement, even if it could have been a while ago. This is now, and the Knight already informed him of the situation with the Delicate Flower, which decidedly sobers the whole thing.

"Responsive architecture is rare enough when it's used for positive reasons. That sounds loathsome," he agrees. "Can't fathom why they'd put something like that in a garden, a mechanism like that's normally reserved for places designed to bury some grave relic or the like. Perplexing..."

As with so many of Hallownest's architectural decisions.

"Speaking of which, it's a shame to hear it seems just as neglected. I've read it'd have been a grand sight back in the day, not that I know a thing about botany. Anything left under the overgrowth that you saw?"

[focusedvoid]

The White Lady didn't want visitors, they assume.

They nearly keep going on past their own thoughts, but pause.

Why not. They'd like their bitterness known. Pity and disgust war each time they think about either of their royal forbears. Disgust is winning soundly.

A perfect place to hide away from her subjects dying outside while citing guilt for the means to stop the Radiance, all while waiting for a replacement to that failed plan.

If The White Lady wanted better opinions about what she'd done, she could've chosen anything else.

The trellises and greenhouses/buildings and giant vases were ornate and pretty despite overgrowth and disrepair.
There are green flowers double the size of either of us has grown over much of it.

[capitalcurator]

Reading from where he's sitting has given him the unique novelty of seeing all of their words neatly framed by their own horns. As Lemm feels a now-familiar vitriol rear its head, those horns are a useful reminder in the edges of his sights that this is not his topic to be sour about. At least not at the forefront. Maybe he's allowed a reasonable amount of sourness if it stays in support of theirs.

"Aye, not a word you've given is out of turn, I'd think." Yes, that came out rather smoothly, considering. (It's not wise to wage words against gods especially if you're not one, but this is not why he bit his tongue. He shouldn't be taking the space their anger ought to occupy. Among other things. He wants to rail on their behalf but it's not his place.) He moves stiffly on, hoping his agreement is enough.

"Ah..." An arm snakes awkwardly past their side to tap a fingertip at the page. "Greenhouses..." He frowns. "Not for sunlight, not down here. Humidity, or maybe for show... I'm getting carried away already," he realises, and backpedals a notch. "I'd like to see it all, that's the problem. Can't appraise a thing from down here. Even the flowers sound a sight."

...Sigh.

"Sorry. Not fishing to have you take me there, just... living vicariously. Don't mind it, will you? Go on. Anything else?"