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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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)

... They're worried about him? That won't do. Lemm rallies, realising how he must look.

"No. If you'll let me I'll finish the whole thing," he informs them, much steadier than before. "Never shied away from the facts. Just gave me a - surprise, that's all." Understatement. He's not going to dig any deeper at why he was so uncomfortable right now, but it sits stubbornly heavy in his head.

He swaps their hand positions and pats the back of theirs, once. He returns to reading. The next segment is Coliseum stuff; he'd think it a good distraction if not for recent events. He should know about this, though, so he studies the text even if his mind is lingering elsewhere.

"It didn't occur to me any of the others made it out," he says quietly, without looking up. It's not phrased as a question; if they have nothing to say about that, he's not going to press.

Alright. They'll trust his judgement, and only pat the word now once more.

They look at the Fools and wonder, vaguely, if there's been any attempts to rebuild the Colosseum, or if they destroyed it thoroughly enough to finally end it. Another thing to check on.

Later. Much later.

It isn't a question. The Knight responds anyway. This all began with considering their own history.

I may explore the Abyss eventually, searching for escape routes. I don't remember how I did. as you know.
I am the only survivor I know of. A few were found around Hallownest. My Lost Kin, and the Nosk lured in several.

Near-imperceptibly, their shoulders slump.

They lean over to the map and tap the pillars towards West Greenpath. They need to mention this--they should have said this before, and they're unhappily grateful this came up, to avoid sudden shock later.

The first I discovered is there.

A nod. He might consider stepping back from this read if things get any more complicated. Getting to look at the Hunter's Journal doesn't seem like a one-time-only opportunity. Stopping midway has never felt necessary before, but this, with the cracked Vessel and the strange icy feeling in his chest when he'd seen their horns, came surprisingly close.

Lemm doesn't think he needs to say be careful down there. Or impress upon them that he thinks it's a bad idea - that would be hypocritical. He just nods, and at the mention of Nosk he skips back a bit to double-check the image. It's on a second pass he realises what he took for mandibles are an eerily familiar set of horns, upside-down. This earns a displeased hum.

After reading the final line he glances again at where they're pointing on the map, thinks about it, then gives an even look up at the Knight. Is, they'd said.

He doesn't say much, just: "Will we visit?"

If you have no objections.

They haven't mourned this sibling, exactly. They haven't fully mourned any of them, which they're coming to realize could become a problem later. What they believed was natural stoicism, within nearly as much as without, was simply...held back and ignored.

Their claws linger atop the three pillars for a little while.

The Knight never knew them, even their Shade seemingly gone. All they can tell is what they saw.

Hornet knew they were there. Their Nail was through their own chest. She is colder than she is cruel. I do not know if she killed them herself.

They had a cloak threaded with mothwing strands. I took it. I knew I could, without understanding how I knew. It allowed me to move quickly, and assisted avoidance of danger many times.

Objections. As if he'd even consider it. "I have none," he confirms, with an agreeing nod.

It doesn't seem like they're done with this part of the conversation. Lemm turns his gaze back to the journal without reading it that intently, and when their pen moves again he lets them finish before looking up to read it.

"I don't know her from the next bug," he reminds them, first. "Wouldn't like to guess and I doubt I'd be winning any favour if I asked. Might be that she'll tell you herself one day. Maybe not." Lemm found himself very wary of Hornet, and a lot of it had admittedly been bias from what little the Knight had told him about her. At least it had been before she pointed a Needle at him.

How to offer condolences for something like this? He doesn't even know what to say to a bug with an ordinary loss, and nothing about this is ordinary. A sibling they never knew who died mysteriously, and that on top of everything else.

Pragmatism is easier. "Whether or not they'd have 'wanted you to have it' -" this is quoted from so many personal journals, and it shows "- if it served you so well maybe that's the sentiment to take with you."

...That's... not very good, he thinks, as comfort goes. Lemm takes a second pass.

"We'll visit. Tidy the site, maybe. If you want." He knows how to do that, more or less.

Good. For practicality's sake alone, their fallen sibling would be difficult to avoid. They think he'd like to see the shrine of Unn's past them.

He's given a brief glance. Yes. I'd prefer if you didn't. Would Hornet impale Lemm for asking a question? They don't know her either, truly, but even should her temper be easy, they doubt this is an easy subject. And they don't fully expect he would, but still.

They tap their quill once before taking a moment and curling their claws around his smallest two, thinking.

They have no idea if they would have cared. The Knight wouldn't have cared for the cloak, had they any awareness. (Awareness that is far more possible than they knew of, when they first came across a body that was so much like their own.) Their Nail, however...

The Shade Wings have long since subsumed the Mothwing Cloak in itself. Their claws trail from Lemm's hand to touch them.

The Knight nods quickly at the suggestion. They moved their Lost Kin, as unnecessary as it may have been. For their other sibling in Greenpath, they can do the same. Even show off what the Wings have become, and give thanks.

Their look is matched with a mildly sardonic glance of his own, just for the short moment it takes to convey yes, yes, I wasn't going to - but he doesn't give any real rebuttal. In fact he turns markedly docile the moment they take his claws. He just sits there, quiet, until they let go of their own accord.

(His hand curls subtly.) Lemm gathers himself, turning back to skimming the Journal after they nod. He's said all he should. Any more would be... too much, he decides, with a remembered pang of embarrassment. A subject change is in order.

"These." He indicates the symbols decorating figures like Xero and Galien. "Moth stuff, is it? What does it mean here?"

They pull out the Dream Nail, setting it on their lap in the cushion's place. Absently, they note they'd gathered a bit more than 2400 essence. Seer will be interested.

The description at the start of each 'Lingering dream of a fallen warrior' is gestured to.

The memory of particularly strong bugs still kept, and I could challenge these to combat. Winning against them gained a great deal of Essence. It seemed to put them to rest. The pins marking each were removed after each success, but they still have them. They Knight takes one of those out too, tilting it to catch a small shine in the shop's grey light.

Despite topic-shifting, the image of their fallen sibling among the lush foliage stays rooted in their mind.

Lemm laces his fingers in front of his face and eyes the Dream Nail over the top of it, then the grave pin, contemplating a few things. Like - that the Knight fights ghosts sometimes. Mildly he wishes he'd met more moths, or at least taken any interest in the few he did - but it's not like he would have believed any of it even if they'd seen fit to share.

"...Alright..." he says slowly, processing. "Hm. I'd put good faith in that being one of the thing's main intended uses, if that's true. What an artifact you've got."

'Putting to rest' and 'passing on' and the like... Lemm never put much stock in it no matter what culture was talking about it, but a great many do talk about it. Should have been a flag. Anyway, all of this is far too close to the previous topic for comfort.

Lemm bluntly swerves into a different one, tapping an illustration of Grimm. "Business only with yourself, you said. I'm still to leave that alone, am I?" He's just checking...

Nod, again. They're most worried about Divine directly, but Grimm...is still asleep, as far as they know. Awaiting their grand entrance.

I should be taking care of that soon. I keep forgetting.

And pause.

As well as putting it off, they admit. They check at their Charms, almost used to the gap of Grimmchild being up with Iselda. I'm leery of more Higher Being business. I haven't been accosted yet. So it's...fine, probably. And not something they want to try until Myla's problem is fixed.

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