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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They nod. They allow this to slip away before temper rears its head. They fear less that they'll devour Lemm or the like, but they can feel the tips of their Wings trying to cling to the counter. It's been a while since that last happened.

This close, they can't look quickly enough for a simple glance. They need to move their full head to peer up into his face, confusion more obvious. I don't mind, no. But I believe I could bring if I can solve the drop-plates and check for surviving Traitors.

The White Lady could protest his presence, but this doesn't occur to them.

Even if it did, they wouldn't much care for her concern.

They gesture to a particular drawing of a shell. There's a corpse of a giant beast here, overgrown as the rest. I found a few like this throughout Hallownest, but none so openly.

And above it: The White Lady resides in bindings here.

They nearly write you should avoid sentiment, but stop quickly. That isn't necessary. Their dislike of her shouldn't bar him from discovering more history.

The tunnels within are narrow, is what they eventually settle on instead.

He is surprised by that. Shouldn't be, probably. It occurs to him he has fallen into a pattern of assuming the Knight won't take him places.

Isn't it like the Archives? Like Deepnest? If it's dangerous he expected to be deterred from going there. Didn't the Knight die-? Lemm stares back, bewildered, before gathering himself. They hadn't meant never. And they're a capable guard.

"Ah... If you're - confident." Very smooth. He looks out of the window, feeling scrutinised now that they're looking at him so intently and from such close proximity. It's too close and his nerve fails. "I'd like to go. 'S long as you know I'd be careful."

He addresses the rest with a little more confidence.

"Seems the larger bugs and beasts of this place rarely made it into Hallownest's golden age, but evidence is scarce. I'd be eager to see that, as well."

...Why are they telling him about...

Sounding very tentative, Lemm dares to ask.

"You'd not object to my trying for an audience, then? Or am I reading you incorrectly?"

Confident... Near enough. They don't enjoy it, they'd prefer others over the Gardens, but they know he'd find much interest. If the drop-places are fixable. And if the Queen in the gardens hasn't maintained those thorns. That wouldn't be a shock.

So they nod, slow and grave. We'll both be careful. They aren't thinking of their own particular deaths. They're going to need to be...particularly wary. And practice. And do prior extra scouting.

They're working themselves up again. I highly recommend we try Greenpath first.

After his other query, they're close enough he can easily get a sense of their body feeling off.

I do not like the idea, they tell him bluntly. This is my own issue. Her repeated assumptions/dismissals have greatly insulted me.

Their claw reaches up to tap beneath their earlier confession. The White Lady was not the only one to sway them into doubting their own self, but she was certainly part of it.

I do not expect her to treat you well. although this may be incorrect. You are not a Vessel.
She is a valuable resource of Hallownest's past and is unlikely to roam if she has yet to.

Edited 2023-02-21 07:50 (UTC)

"Aye. Greenpath first." (Queen's Gardens sound... daunting. More so! But that's a bridge to cross later, not that Hallownest does bridges very often. Which is the problem.)

Lemm is slow to respond, one finger tapping quietly on the counter while he thinks things through.

He can tell he's pushing it. Or they're pushing themselves. The situation is rather a complicated one to defuse because... he needs his options open, admittedly.

So, backing out and writing off ever meeting people like the Queen or Herrah or whoever isn't an option, not if he wants to be realistic. Pushing harder definitely isn't an option. And he doesn't want to meet these damned people, if he's completely honest it sounds like a recipe for disaster. The problem is he will never get a history he can be satisfied with if he doesn't examine all the working parts.

This should have just meant relics if this Kingdom was actually dead, Lemm testily thinks. Bits of it keep getting back up and talking back. One of them is sitting on his shop counter waiting for an answer right now, incidentally, so he should probably get on with it.

"I'm not -" he starts, and with some stalling he grinds out "- fond of the idea either. And I'm not under any false impressions she'll be inclined to tell me much if I get there. I've got a responsibility to ask if I can, but beyond that..."

Lemm waves a hand, before realising they aren't facing him to see it. It drops.

"...Look, let's put a pin in it - might not even happen, and we're both fussing. S'all up in the air until we know I can do Greenpath, anyway."

After a long pause of processing, the Knight tilts back. And keeps tilting until they're resting against Lemm's shell, backwards this time. They aren't aiming for a hug, though they won't squirm away if he tries.

...They feel as though they owe an apology. What exactly for escapes them.

Yes.
There were many exploding plants and mosskin before. Thankfully, this appears no longer the case, or at least not as easily.

I've been informed Gulka venom is a good intoxicant. There, Lemm, a subject change for you.

He is a little at a loss on what to do with the Knight leaning on him like that. Lemm stares at one of their horns that is conveniently in his field of view, while he considers whether or not this is a cue and there's some acceptable way he should be responding to it.

No, likely not. He stays where he is and tries not to be so acutely aware. He'll just... be a backrest. He guesses.

"I - well. I'd believe toxic, so I suppose it follows I have to believe intoxicant. Where'd you hear something like that, then?" His tone shifts to mildly accusatory. "Surely not Dirtmouth?" ~~Is Elderbug inclined to party, Knight.~~

The Knight shakes their head immediately, aghast and amused in one. Who would even--? Zote. Zote, they can imagine having tried something like that and surviving, and finding a way to boast about his fortitude afterwards.

They tug the map back over and shift it around to Greenpath, pointing at a particular custom pin to its Eastern side.

The Hunter is here. An odd being who tasked me with hunting everything in Hallownest, as he considers me a hunter as well. He gave me a journal of brief documents of his many conquests, including strange things like Gulka.

Yes, he had a feeling it wouldn't be Dirtmouth. Normally his amusement isn't so obvious until he decides it should be, but normally they're not leaning on him. They'll feel a slight tremor as a snicker doesn't quite make itself anyone's business, and he moves on.

"The Hunter, eh? Never heard of him, but then I suppose it takes one to know one, and I'm decidedly not."

Lemm peers over the Knight at the map and slips a hand under the edge, lifting it a bit to get a better look.

"Hmm. Don't suppose I could take a look? At the journal, I mean, not the one who gave it to you. I'm not in the mind to get myself hunted. By someone who indulges in venom."

Would he bother Lemm, were they adamant he was under their protection? Better not to learn unless needed. Besides, most of what he has to offer would be from the Journal itself.

They nod easily.

With greater reluctance, they shift away and stand; they'd rather not scrape it across the counter or thump Lemm with it.

From beneath their wings, the Hunter's Journal is produced. It's shaped not unlike a standard Wanderer's, but it's larger. Significantly so. And it isn't carved stone all the way through, but has a strange lichen-like surface that they've figured out how to unfurl like a scroll little at a time.

A great amount of of it is the Knight's own careful glyphs, on open blank parts and crammed between the much more pronounced, Hallownest-adjacent script as their own personal attempts at translation.

(He feels himself relax a notch when they pull away, though he hadn't realised he was tense.)

"Ah, that's on the bigger end of the scale, isn't it..." He hover-handses a little bit, despite knowing the Knight isn't one for dropping things and the fact it looks like it would do more damage to the floor than itself.

Besides that it looks fascinating. How much information might be packed in there? Hunt-related or not, Lemm is already itching to get his covetous Relic Seeker hands all over it, but first things first.

"Show me." With an eager little invitational gesture to go with it.

He'd rather see how they handle the thing before he does. If they let him. He hopes they let him!

It can handle rough treatment, as they've learned under duress, but under a friend Relic Seeker's scrutinizing eye and with no need to rush, they act more carefully. They slide it open and shift through the massive roll of fiberous paper, letting him watch until they get to the aforementioned Gulka.

Aggressive plant-life that retracts protectively when danger is near. Spits hard spikey balls when foes are at a distance. ---- Its leaves are dry and bland. The bud is unpleasantly sour, but oh! The venom in those balls it spits. Exquisite! If you have the time to spare, try drinking some and enjoy the effects.

The illustration of this one is skilled, and not by their pen.

Edited 2023-02-21 14:10 (UTC)

He can't help himself, it's right there. Lemm sticks a clawtip under the scroll part and holds it still, letting the paper slide lightly over it as it unrolls.

"Foliose. Treated. Surprisingly tough for the fine grade. This'd have lasted a sight longer than silk, let me tell you." He retracts his hand with a wistful sigh and folds his hands together. "Might even weather an acid splash or two, though I wouldn't advise letting it soak."

Lemm focuses in on the text they're showing him, and after a brief read-through he gives a lighthearted little scoff.

"Sounds like your Hunter is more than partial, if you ask me. I won't be following his enthusiastic advice, I don't think, there are less noxious vices to have... Ah, look at that." More hover hands, this time over the artwork. Lemm gives an appreciative hum. "Detailed indeed. I'd guess this was done with a dead specimen close to hand, eh?"

He looks up at the Knight at that as if he's hoping they'll offer more information, sounding rather cheerful about the whole thing.

Edited (changed a word) 2023-02-21 14:32 (UTC)

The journal is set on the counter (with a rather heavy noise for something not fully made of stone) for Lemm's perusal. The Knight seats themselves back down, cushion set behind them for potential dropping onto later.

Likely, they offer. They all seem fully accurate when I made comparisons, though I haven't in a while. I only understood most of the written notes after multiple hunts and studying.

And they've hunted a great number of things. They faintly recall considering checking the Coliseum for the Oblobbles--and that likely isn't possible anymore, they realize with an internal cringe.

"I'll take your word for it. I'm hardly one to go looking for this kind of trouble, so I doubt I'll recognise so many of these. Good to know what's out there though."

Lemm does not normally deal with artifacts that have a papery component, or at least he hasn't since coming here. He prefaces his handling of the journal by quickly cleaning off his hands on a cloth, even if he suspects it's survived worse just by the nature of what it records.

It's not long before he's eagerly meandering along the scroll, poring over the images and text at the early end with some fascination.

"Organised by location it looks like? I suppose it makes the most sense. Ah, I recall you telling me about fighting one of these..." He hones in on the Vengefly King and traces the jaws on it faintly. He knows what a vengefly looks like and this isn't much different, but it's the context that gives him pause. "This Hunter, then, he's got you going after everything in Hallownest? What for?"

They watch the careful handling with faint amusement. It's not nearly as old as most of what Hallownest has to offer, and apparently made of sturdier stuff, but there's no need to point out ingrained habits.

To his question, the Knight shrugs an arm. I suspect it's a quest to prove myself, and he'd like to have a challenge if I'm strong enough discover everything. I doubt I'll make it to that point. This written despite the sheer number Lemm is currently shuffling through.

Admittedly, they haven't been trying to hunt at all since their destruction of the Radiance. There's some pleasure in hunting, but significantly less now that the ones that remain aren't suffering and out to kill them.

Though there was space left to add for myself. It's possible he's having me search for more. Half-shrug, again.

He looks up now and then, checking-in on their writing with sideways glances even as he continues working his way ahead through the journal. With his quick reading at least the multitasking shouldn't come across as too rude.

"A challenge, eh?" False Knight. This one the Knight has told him about, too, and it gives him a very clean image of what that armour looks like. He lingers on it a moment, committing the detail to memory and hoping the Knight is correct about these being accurate. "Just mind yourself around him, if he's so skilled as to have seen so much of Hallownest's underbelly. I haven't forgotten what you are, of course, but you'll permit me some concern. S'a different world when you cart a weapon around to when you don't."

Different in so many ways. He lingers on the particularly lethal-looking depictions of mantises and considers what this implies.

"Shocked he thinks there's anything left to find with how much - urgh!" He just read the accompanying entries for the Mistakes and Follies. Lemm pointedly tilts his head like he's still now sure what he's looking at. "...Good grief," he says, quietly.

Of course. They have been since he began mentioning a well-deserved reward. That terminology is suspicious, no matter how willing they are to walk into a trap out of curiosity.

The Knight deliberately keeps from reacting to Lemm's repulsed confusion. Yes, it's disgusting, all the worse having their un-melted fellows just beside them for comparison.

They still don't regret ruining the place they come from.

They had mentioned mistakes and follies in the records, but only toward the latter end. He'd wondered why that phrase had become so prevalent. Well.

Lemm glances aside as their pen scratches and offers a nod, just to let them know he's still paying attention.

More tentatively than before, he takes up the paper and keeps making his way through, pausing for the Soul Master. This one he recognises, caught in the Lord of Shades' claws.

"Seen many of the things penned in this journal, then, have you?"

They haven't shared this with anyone but the one who gave them this journal. Lemm's reactions are watched avidly. They don't know what he knows of in advance. Less than they thought. It's completely reasonable-- better--he never encountered a Mistake or the like.

I haven't touched the documents on anything I didn't know. I prefer correct information.
Or at least not making it up whole cloth.

Much of the Hunter's writing isn't exactly objective.

"Hm."

It's as good a reply as any. He's listening, and it indicates as much. It's just hard to know how to start chatting, currently.

(He considers saying something about Soul Master. Just as quickly he reconsiders; now isn't right.)

Ogrim's information is studied and remembered. Skimming ahead he finds one that looks eerily similar to the Knight's little friend, and a spike of discomfort makes sure he doesn't linger on it. There are Weavers...

"What am I going to find in here?" he asks, sincerely. Because it seems to be getting stranger and more confusing the more he reads. Lemm is not even sure what warning to ask for, staring at Nosk's entry.

There's...much to consider.

A pause stretches on. Tap, tap, tap. Quite frankly, the Knight is desensitized to a good number of subjects.

Further past this involve forms twisted grotesquely by Infection. One of which is a very unfortunate sibling. Further on are other siblings.

That question is broad. I don't know what else you might find discomforting.

His head tilts up somewhat sharply. It's not a jerk, he's more well-managed than that, but he does fix them with a serious look.

There are implications regarding this journal and the context in which it was received. Siblings getting a mention does not sit comfortably. And the Mistakes were a shock, and there may be stranger yet.

"Right," says Lemm, and attempts to force the switch from personal back to scholarly, and tucks his head back down.

Mawleks and infection, infection, infection...

He stops, not so subtly, at the sight of pronged horns.

...It's only now, image mirrored from the paper and face above, they notice how Lemm and their kin have similar horns. Not the same--definitely not the same, with their sibling's horns far longer, and there were once more--but it's enough to raise a chill within their chest.

The Hunter isn't who drew the Broken Vessel.

Wordlessly, they tug the Journal back to add a sketch beside it: their Lost Kin, head whole, uninfected.

At peace.

This entry is complete.

Edited 2023-02-21 23:56 (UTC)

His hands come to rest on the counter as they draw, and Lemm settles patiently and says nothing at all in the interim. He just waits for them to finish. It's their journal.

The complete entry is examined with his head on one side. As a scholar he should be asking a thousand questions. He doesn't want to.

...Lemm nods, lightly.

"Looks better that way," he mumbles vaguely as he studies the new sketch. The proper platitudes would come out all wrong, anyway. And his thoughts are sticking. He sits back a bit. "If you... realise there're things in here that aren't a Relic Seeker's business," he offers, a little lost, "you'll say so." Right?

I don't know. I do not mind you knowing. That's the important part to them.

They put a paw on the edge of the Journal before changing their mind and lightly tapping the back of Lemm's hand.

You don't need to read every entry now. Or ever, should you prefer it.

Edited 2023-02-22 05:08 (UTC)

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