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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"Pah. I'll wrest all of your stories out of you yet," Lemm mutters, faintly amused. "You're not off the hook just because they aren't about Hallownest." It's an empty claim, mostly - he doesn't really expect them to remember everything - but it feels right to remind them he's interested. (...Also, that they've already told him so much is something he's proud of, and Seer might as well know about it.)

Either way, he appreciates extra detail.

"Ah, all the way out there..." Seer is less fussy about the where. "I've spent my life here, though I knew there was a world outside this place... You aren't the first to pass through the Resting Grounds of Hallownest, and you won't be the last. I am glad to hear you took in the sights."

...She does entertain the mental image, if only for a moment. Perhaps, if circumstances were different, she would invite them to tell her more. A long time ago, she would have liked to hear such stories.

Things change. As it is, she has only one other question quite pressing enough to bother asking.

"What of the other?"

Lemm's poker face here may actually be kind of impressive.

Lemm gets an overdone bow. The Knight's perfectly fine with that, though information of Fortress in particular likely won't be interesting. They really did just stare at it for...around a month. Though he might enjoy the minutiae of their patrol routes, for some reason.

They nod. They suspected she'd know.

And then they pause.

Their tallest sibling lives. Their tallest sibling lives and is well--or at least stubborn--enough to be wandering.

Keeping them entirely secret from one of the few that knew of them isn't necessary, they decide.

They've been freed from the Egg, though not without sustaining grievous injury.
And at least one of the Dreamers from their sleep, they eventually write. May as well be honest there as well.

Lemm minds himself very carefully. One of the few things his awkwardness does not get in the way of is maintaining a good lie - it's only when the Knight lets the secret go that the mask drops.

"Goes without saying, but this isn't something they'd appreciate spread about, not that I'd expect you to," he adds, aimed at Seer. "Deserves not to be pestered about the whole thing. I'm certain you agree."

Seer nods, gravely. "You needn't worry - I won't be passing anything on. I am well practiced in being discreet..." That, and there is a rather limited pool of bugs she might speak to in the first place. "...You have my gratitude for telling me, but more than that... My deepest apologies, Wielder, for the whole of that grim duty. I understand none may ever be enough."

Lemm said something similar about the very same subject, peering down at the Hunter's Journal. His was more of thanking than an apology, but they find the sentiment near enough. Their sibling deserves it more. Perhaps they'll pass something like that along.

The Knight bows to Seer, not half as deep as she tried to they--or their dramatic one at Lemm. Hopefully that they weren't being respectful to him but are to her is clear, they think belatedly.

Edited 2023-03-16 13:47 (UTC)

She solemnly bows her head in response, so - it landed, at least.

When she straightens up again, something about her bearing has changed subtly. For a long moment she just stares at the Wielder, completely unreadable.

Her thoughts have been brushing up against the facts for a while now. The Radiance is gone, and Hallownest rests; with the Dream Nail passed to a rightful Wielder, her duties are few. And something about the telling of it all, that the Lord of Shades (and Lemm) witnessed the truth of it, has her feeling just a notch lighter.

Yes. What's done is done.

Her attention turns to Lemm... Too volatile, that one. They did establish that privacy was an acceptable thing to request.

"Lemm," she addresses him. "May I have an audience with the Wielder alone?"

He had been wondering why she was looking at them like that. Unsure, Lemm looks to the Knight in a silent question. Is that acceptable?

They nod to Lemm. They're fine, and they already agreed queries in private are acceptable. If Seer wants to ask something without a Relic Seeker, that's particularly fair, no matter that the Knight doesn't understand it.

There's a bench in the Stag Station to the east, a little way down, they say. That'd be comfortable to wait on for them, and they don't think he's allowed in the Spirits' Glade. Perhaps they'll ask after that in private.

He gives them a nod and quietly gets to his feet. Theirs is not a bad suggestion, even if his curiosity was piqued by that open door across the way... With a pause to fix his beard, he considers saying something else - no, probably unwise, nothing he can think of would be anything but rude to the Seer.

Instead, he stoops to put a hand on the Knight's shoulder on the way past. And - belatedly - he just about remembers to flick a hand up in a last-second wave over his shoulder as he exits.

Seer waits until Lemm is gone and his climbing hook has been shaken off the edge - and then a moment longer for grace's sake. She is patient.

"...Wielder," she addresses them eventually, cordial and apparently earnest. "What comes next for you?"

They pat Lemm's hand with their paw, pressing it down into their shoulder for an instant. They're grateful he came along with them.

Patient as her, they wait for his presence to fade.

I'm going to visit my sibling, and then return to Dirtmouth. Myla is up there, in a dwelling that is mine. Did they need to include that? They don't care. I'll further consider my options of helping her after.

They suspect there was more to that question, but the Knight answers straightforwardly. Goading Seer into asking further somewhat, but that is their plan, and an important one.

Edited 2023-03-16 21:08 (UTC)

"Dirtmouth," she muses. Nothing wrong with that choice, in her opinion. "A comfortable place it was. Ah, and it may be still... I send nothing but solace to you and your sibling, and to Myla. It's benevolent of you to think of others!"

Their answer is very pragmatic. Seer gives a soft, good-natured hum. She wasn't specific enough, that's on her. And the details she got were not unwelcome.

"And then...? What of your future, I wonder?"

It was cold and empty when I came, with Elderbug alone, but it's since filled with several, from Hallownest and outside both.

They dip their head, softly pleased with her wishes and question both.

I don't fully know. I'm ~~going to~~ trying to build a life here, whatever that may mean. I'd never had a chance to.

Edited 2023-03-16 21:35 (UTC)

"It is good to hear of new life being breathed into that old town."

She would have accepted any answer to the question of their future - far be it from her to decide what's best for them - but their choice is a pleasant one. It's... nice, that they're staying. Seer gives an encouraging nod.

"We must all seize our moments, and what shape those moments take become us! ...Or so it's been said." Possibly just by her. Seer watches them with a meaningful glint in her eyes. "What shape will Hallownest take, as the era of Light passes and one of Shade begins? It's not for me to wonder, but perhaps it is for you to think about."

They dip their head, more seriously.

I will. I am not going to be Lord or King, no matter my titles. Her noticing the Brand was, indeed, noticed. But I will be trying to help where I can. I did during the Infection and I have no need to change this.

Apologies, again, for taking so long to visit, and it not being only a visit.

"Ahh, there's no harm in it, Wielder! You've taken well to the Dream Nail, and it seems you've gone from strength to strength since. I've no fears for you losing your way, and I've had company of my own..."

Her antennae straighten very slightly.

"It is your domain now, whether or not you step into your role as its patron..." She pauses. "...It's not for me to wonder, but it's pleasing you'd choose benevolence. A Wielder's hand I've guided, but the hand of the Lord of Shades I certainly will not."

Seer dips her head in something like deference, nothing so dramatic as earlier, but clear enough.

"I would make a request of you, Shadelord." Not of the Wielder. This difference is important.

The Dream Nail is still sitting on their lap. They pat its hilt, signifying fondness. They're reassured, that even knowing what they can be, what they're capable of, they're not leaving all who learn of it terrified.

And Seer has a request of them. Of that being, of Void and Dream and Godhome and Siblings. The Knight doesn't care for the bow, but they only respond by straightening their small back and looking at her full in the face. What does the Seer wish from this reluctant Higher Being?

There are things she doesn't need to ask, sensibly speaking. Was it quick? This she doubts - the Radiance was a god, and obviously resisted - but Seer is a Moth, nothing more, and quite willing. She has been given the opportunity to sense that measureless Void, and there has never been anything more obviously sufficient. (Her antennae fan out a little, again, at the thought.)

...Yes, a suitable path to follow.

"I am old," she begins, because that is usually a good place to start. Explaining the Moth way of thinking to an outsider often begins there. "Only one duty remains for me now, of carrying the memories and the crimes of my tribe with me... Those will go where I go, and I find myself content in all else." Seer straightens up a bit, enough to meet their gaze. "Yes. It is time that I followed Her, I think."

She waits to allow this to sink in. It would be convenient if they understood swiftly, but she's patient.

The air goes as heavy-cold as the Knight's own mood.

They stand.

They tuck their map and Dream Nail away, unhidden by their wings.

The Lord of Shades bows to the Seer.

And they leave.

They are not slow about it. They turn, they dash, they're gone with a blur of black; down, down, with the heavy SLAM of their Descending against the sturdy grave at the bottom.

Ah. A negative reaction she'd been prepared for, but that she hadn't quite been expecting. (There is a crash from a distant back room, like pottery breaking on the floor, as somebody recognises the feel of angered Void and does not take it well.)

She could follow. Explain further, better. Other beings don't view death the same way, have dread of it, see it as something terrible -

- Seer is old, and experienced with the ways of people, and she is not so foolish as to press; she knows it would be a poor choice. By the sounds of it, too, it's not as if she could chase them down.

Instead she rises slowly, antennae flared madly with the Void-charged air and a healthy level of fear, and passes through the curtain to go and perform some damage control, to fuss over someone else instead of dwelling on the fact she has just upset the new Higher Being of Hallownest.

Regardless her answer was no. She understands. (She doesn't understand, completely. And the guilt must still be carried. That they would leave her living under the weight of it does not feel pleasant.)

Relic Seeker Lemm (title now firmly slipped back into, as comfortably as another bug might wear their mask) is sitting on the bench of the Stag Station, Arcane Egg retrieved from his bag and held gently in his lap as he smooths his thumbs over the outside, thinking. He'll need another lens, and soon. Prying into these may be the best chance he has of being helpful, outside of the work he's undertaken. And for his curiosity, of course -

The familiar feeling of the air going bleak and uncomfortable is his only warning before the rush of something dropping past the Station entrance puts his heart in his throat.

The Egg is stuffed in his bag again and Lemm is already halfway out when the ground trembles with the impact. He gingerly peers over the edge.

"Knight?"

The Knight is a black-white shape far below, frozen the tomb they landed on.) They regret letting Lemm come, because now they can't go.

No, they can. They just won't. They won't let Lemm climb down alone, or force him to brave the Stagways without choice. They're too benevolent for that.

They had to leave. They would not have granted her request, but they may have done something else they'd regret.

They're furious. They're hurt. They're insulted. That last one shouldn't be important, but it won't be shaken off: they simply are. That she would be so polite to them, and speak to the Knight about being seen as they are and then ask for that. As though they're yet nothing but Void that will drown someone they care about, as much as they may not have been friends.

Mechanically, they tilt their head up to meet Lemm's distant gaze.

..Hm. That's not good. They're doing that thing again, where their motions are all measured and careful and doll-like. Lemm frowns.

"...I'm coming down," he calls. Wait. Wait for him. Yes, they can't go, but only not yet.

The grapple comes out; he's faster than he was, but always careful, a sense of urgency not outweighing years of being careful. Not until the end, anyway, when there's a drop from the last platform he decides he can manage. Lemm hangs over the edge of it and drops neatly to ground level into a crouch, with a grunt that is only slightly strained, and pushes himself up with his hands.

He comes to their side. And he glances up, just for a moment, wondering what on earth happened up there.

Lemm does not make the mistake of asking just yet.

Rattled, he offers this instead: "Shall we walk?"

Internally seething and locked into control, the Knight waits in place, following his descent with their gaze. Their heights are disparate enough they they don't need to tilt their head, even when he joins them next to the grave with a name too worn to read beneath their feet.

They want to use the Crystal Heart and blast across the Resting Grounds until they've left it behind.

They hop down and start forward.

He's itching to ask. He does not. Lemm falls into step at their side and - picks up the pace, a bit. They're upset, he can tell that much, though whatever its nature is he has no idea.

Seer had seemed so calm! And easygoing! He'd left so easily because she'd been that way, he'd thought he had nothing to worry about. What could she possibly have said or done-?

He slows for a moment as they pass through the tunnel, falling behind so that he can swap to the Knight's other side, putting himself between them and the Dreamers' memorial and most of the strange horn-shapes. Not as if he can block them out, but it still feels right. And he talks.

"I've not a clue what happened back there, or what you need. A walk's something, though, isn't it? Where to?" So that they don't feel compelled to pull out paper: "I'll go with you. You set the pace, eh?"

That they might be trying to escort him home occurs to him, and is held at arm's length. Ugh, he hopes not.

They should respond.

Their claws itch at the thought. They don't want to write. They don't want--anything, but perhaps to turn back and Shriek their fury. That won't be productive, and won't make them seem the Knight, no matter that it is them. Their rage. Their affront.

They continue on, through the Grounds, past Xero's grave, on and on until they realize they've halted in front of the empty Tram station, not absorbing anything on the way.

Lemm grows steadily more convinced that this is something extreme, as the Knight keeps walking and continues to broadcast absolutely nothing of their thoughts. The air still feels strange and cold to him.

"Aye. Best to keep moving," he offers, after a bit. He should keep talking. Right? "The sooner we're out of here the better - we'll go somewhere less depressing..." Except he can't think much to talk about that isn't the Resting Grounds, or about Moths, or just continuing to talk about what they're doing as they're doing it. And all of that feels like just adding more of the same to the pile, so...

Lemm does stay quiet for a while.

And, ah. They're at the Tram Station. Except the Knight just seems to be standing there.

...Don't they-? He thought they must have a Pass, considering where they've been. Maybe not.

Lemm scrambles for his bag at the realisation and it takes him a second to dig around, but from an inside pocket he withdraws one of his own, and holds it up like a suggestion. Yes? No? They knew this was here, it's on their map, but he's no stranger to forgetting where he's going when his mind is occupied.

Edited 2023-03-17 11:25 (UTC)

They Knight turns to Lemm. Who has a Tram Pass.

They wonder, distantly, where he might've gotten it. How rare they were was impressed upon them by how cursedly difficult it was to find their own, in the worst mess of Deepnest their third go-round.

They nod shortly and let him do as he will. When it arrives, they'll sit.

Not hit the button. Only sit. They don't have a goal beyond being out of the Resting Grounds.

This is worse than the Nailsmith. Then, they'd been significantly more detached. It was easier to consider before discarding it. They didn't know each other. He was the Nailsmith, they were a client he served his best for, and that was the whole of it. But for the quality Nail he forged, this sort of relationship was hardly uncommon.

They're not at that level of detached now. Not in general. Not after they'd just written out half their Shade for her, right then and there, about their hopes for the future.

--And she isn't even alone. The Nailsmith had been. Even Cloth had been. Except for them. A stranger. They weren't anymore, to Seer. Or so they'd made the mistake of believing.

Shade Wings curling around its cushions, the Knight presses flat against the back of the seat.

Right, then. It's been a while since he rode the Tram. Even despite the atmosphere Relic Seeker Lemm can't help himself - he hesitates just a moment before he sticks in the Pass.

The Tram comes - because of course it does, it's a marvel of engineering and it's another of those ostentatious look-at-what-Hallownest-can-get-done things that he's so fond of, and it's only goodness knows how old and still working...

...A sigh. Enough. Lemm manages to keep his mouth shut, and settles for tracing a hand on the door frame on his way in. The Knight sits, so he draws over to operate the controls, and then takes a seat near the end. Feels like a bad idea to crowd the Knight right now.

There are bodies in here.

Lemm looks out of the window.

"Won't take long," he mutters, completely at a loss.

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