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 repeatedly straighten and un-straighten the elbows until it feels steady. Then they use a tendril, careful, to beckon Lemm over.

(It looks sort of like a tongue sticking out.)

Then they stay in place, keeping still as they can make themselves. They don't want Lemm to get a cracked shell either. Or a flat one, should it tip over.

He stops to put his bag down, first. There's an Arcane Egg in there! He's not getting something that fragile anywhere near this situation.

Lemm strides over, first pausing by the front to peer up and get a sense of where their field of view might be; then he gives a gesture to warn them he's leaving it. He circles around to the twisted leg.

"Let me know -" a tiny pause, and an easy solution as to how "- tap on the metal somewhere if you can feel this at all."

He dubiously examines the offending limb. No harm in trying, he supposes.

Lemm takes firm hold of the leg, braces himself against the floor, and just attempts to wrench the thing back the right way - carefully at first, then with increasing effort as he realises exactly how heavy the metal is and how difficult this is actually going to be in practice.

Very, as it turns out.

Feel? Does he mean literally? They can't ask or answer in any way but tapping, so they don't.

Beneath Hallownest's endless dripping, they hear soft shifting noises. Then heavier breaths. Then sounds of effort, muffled. Is he trying to move it manually?

They let this happen a little longer in sheer disbelief before intentionally thwacking the face mechanism a couple times. Please stop doing that.

There's a pause, and the fussing stops.

In a voice clearly supposed to sound like he isn't out of breath, Lemm snaps:

"You can't have felt that."

It didn't move! ...Did it. He doesn't think it did.

Another pause, this time as Lemm debates whether or not to try again anyway and risk the Knight trying to signal him another way - okay, yes, unwise.

He has confirmed to himself this thing is nigh-indestructible to a bug like him, though.

There is a loud thwack as a rather peeved Relic Seeker gives the armour's leg a spiteful kick. Then he storms back to where he was, to stand there sulking with his arms folded.

"...Sorry," he grumbles.

They stick their arms out and wave them a bit. Don't worry about it. No matter how absurd an idea they think it was.

Kneeling isn't working. Perhaps they should...they could just--

They jerk against all the leg mechanisms at once. The armor bucks again. The legs slam into the floor, and then they shove.

They're standing.

For an instant.

Then the awkwardly-bent leg, still somewhat bent despite their attempts to reset it, shifts. They get it to take half a staggering step to the side, and then crash down onto a bit of stuck-up rubble, lying down sideways this time.

He catches this gesture and reacts with little more than a loud, frustrated sigh. He'll get over it.

In the meantime, he returns to being a spectator.

"Aye! That looks right. - Ah, no, watch yourself-!"

Crash.

Lemm has taken several urgent steps forwards before managing to remind himself that - as far as he knows - the armour and the Knight inside it are more than enduring. And given what just happened, getting close again probably isn't a good idea.

"You're all right in there, are you?" he tentatively asks, just in case.

They flail an angry arm out once, and then hit the mechanism again.

This time, the sound of the face shutting is satisfying. They're only going to be a minute, but that minute is going to be spent in the dark (except for the eye holes, not aligned with their actual ones) sulking.

Lemm scoffs quietly. That makes two of them, then.

...Ah, but it's so much easier to ignore his own embarrassing moment if he can pretend this was about Relic Seeker stuff.

He trudges a bit closer and gives the armour another circular examination. As he suspected, it seems unharmed.

"Amazing thing to see moving," he remarks, mostly to himself. "Doesn't look like you'd be able to jog it back to my shop though." And it wouldn't fit. Shame. "Heard of articulation like this before, but never so extensive. A single small piece, maybe, and I'd never seen one of those up close. Someone was very determined indeed to have built this whole thing."

When he's circled all the way back to the front, Lemm just stands there with his arms crossed and... waits, studying the faceplate with an unreadable look.

...Harder to sulk with Lemm's analysis echoing in through the metal. They probably couldn't bring it much of anywhere; it's not as pliant as the living, no matter how the bands around its middle seem to have shifted a little where the stone presses into it. The tunnels would defeat it. Perhaps that's why it's here.

After a little longer, they open it again. The arm is moved so it shifts, lying more on its back than upon its side. It won't tip over that way.

Upside-down and with more room, the Knight Dashes their way out.

And, naturally, they end up landing on their back.

They feel their Nail pressing through their wings and flop their arms back, spread out on the floor. They give up.

Lemm watches this happen... mildly. They've both tried something a little over their head in the span of a few minutes, and somehow it's kind of soothing to his bruised pride to know this.

He comes to stand over the Knight, observes them with a moment's eye contact, then holds his beard out of the way so that he can bend down and offer them a hand without them getting it accidentally draped on them.

"S'a difficult piece of kit, that, isn't it? Come on, up you get."

Lemm's holding out his hand. Nice of him, and perhaps the only thing that would actually get them up in a timely manner.

That's an interesting thought as they reach up and take it. Once, they would have been up and off before he could have offered. Once, he wouldn't have. Once, they never would've brought someone they cared about to see something they might find interesting.

Once standing, the Knight turns back around to look at the mess they'd made.

It's not as terrible as it could be. The stone they partly landed on keeps its horns from digging straight into the ground.

They glance back to the pole they couldn't manage. Lemm likes to know things, and they know something else: That was a mace. The head was an extremely thick-shelled bug. that left after I won. I don't know what happened to them after.

Lemm turns to look along with them. They really have made an even stranger shape out of the thing, but... Getting to see Hegemol's armour move is going to turn out to be a highlight, he can already tell, even if right now it's slightly muddied by the knowledge he lost his temper and got physical about it.

It really was a good idea. And kind of them to remember. That does outweigh the rest.

Their writing gets an incredulous look, and he snorts in amusement.

"What a strange job to be put to! I'd disappear in a hurry, as well." He casts about for a glance at the pole, then back at the armour. He flexes an arm thoughtfully, picturing the armour doing the same. "Reinforced at the joints d'you think, for blunt impact like that? No wonder the thing's so sturdy."

He clears his throat.

They shrug, any implications sailing between their horns.

I could feel them out from the inside. I didn't touch anything that far down, but I think the cables did, so I likely can.

They look up and stare a little more.

Later.

Lemm stares blankly back at them for a moment before he twigs.

"No, I'm not trying to get you to try again! We've both had enough," he insists, waving this off. "Can't expect you to take to the reins in a blink, anyway. You did fine, considering."

It's really not a lie. The Maggot, and Hegemol himself, had plenty of time to practice.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'd bet Hegemol didn't take to it so well the first time either."

Lemm turns to go and retrieve his bag.

The Knight nods. He's right and they know it, no matter that their pride's been mildly bruised.

They circle the armor again. Of course, there are no scratches or the like; the worst is some kicked-up dust and gravel they sweep off with a tendril.

A glance at their map. There's a Snail Shaman in the Ancestral Mound just next door, up a small tunnel. We can visit if you have questions for that one. now or some other time.

He returns with the bag neatly looped over his shoulders again. A part of him had complained at any insinuation that a Great Knight might make a mess of something. Worth it, to make the situation a bit lighter.

...The next suggestion is assessed carefully, and he schools the knee-jerk reaction of no I don't want to meet anyone so suddenly, because it is a habitual one and not to be trusted.

But is it a good idea?

With their meeting with the Seer so fresh in his mind, and both of their little encounters with frustration just now, Lemm gives an uneasy hum and makes an executive decision.

"...Not now. Another time. If it's all the same." It is, by the sound of it. He doubts someone living in a place called the Ancestral Mound is going anywhere in a hurry. "Not feeling up to it." Very hard for him to admit, but it takes the responsbility off the Knight to decide the same thing. Anyway it's true.

That does leave the question of what to do next, though.

"I invited myself along, here," he realises, now, and immediately owns up to. "It's been - educational," he diverts from nice, "but you've no need to take me sightseeing. Our plans today didn't exactly come together as we expected." Let's keep things pleasantly vague, shall we. "Maybe you'd prefer a break from entertaining an overly-curious Relic Seeker."

For once he's not being self-deprecating, here - rather, he's just checking in. They really didn't seem like they were up for company when they'd originally run off, and maybe it's worth addressing that.

Edited (HUM not him. dklgfjdg) 2023-03-20 16:56 (UTC)

They hadn't realized how much they were hoping he'd say later or even just no until he did, and they dip into a bow. Neither are they. It was suggested for the sake of it, really. It was close. It's historic. Why not.

The Knight's feelings on the Shaman are mixed in the first place. He gave them their first Spell, and it was extremely helpful, but even now they're a touch sore from being tricked about it.

I don't mind, but I don't believe there's much more to look at here. They might be somewhat missing the point of the question.

Edited 2023-03-20 17:01 (UTC)

He shifts his weight slightly and looks mildly uncomfortable.

"There's plenty I could look at, as a Relic Seeker." He points up at the higher floors, where the vertical wall struts and shell-like windows are barely visible through the broken floor. Admittedly he finds that glimpse very enticing. But: "That's not what I'm asking."

How can he put this in a way that won't sound overbearing? Or insulting, even? Or like he's making this about him being insecure?

Ugh, he can't, he's no good at this. So they get the blunt version.

"D'you need a break," he says again. With the added detail of: "From me."

Lemm's head bobs in a concessional way, in the hopes that will be enough to let them know he doesn't mean it like that.

Blunt is the way to go. Concern only rises for a moment--he obviously isn't upset.

They stare vaguely upward at the empty space a ceiling once was, before their battle collapsed it.

I don't think so. I wouldn't actually want to talk to the Shaman, but I know you. I don't mind listening to your Relic talks.

A long pause. Tap, tap, tap on the quill. They're reminded of what he'd said in the Tram. It will be painful to bring up, for both, but if Lemm chooses to keep moving, or go back to the City soon, or if they go back to Dirthmouth, they shouldn't wait on it.

You said Seer didn't know. before. That it wasn't right. If you don't mind explaining. what did you mean?

...Not that he was angling for that kind of reassurance, but it's nice to hear. Lemm's gaze momentarily flicks to the floor while he tries not to dwell on it. Not the point here. (But - still.)

When he looks back up, it's to a fairly straightforward question. They're lucky he has a memory for details - it only takes him a bit of thought before he recalls what they're asking about.

He looks mildly pained. Easy enough to know how to answer, but the answer itself is... rough.

Lemm folds his arms again, posture tight and uncomfortable.

"You've told me a great deal about your history, Knight." Is that enough? ...No, he can tell it isn't. He's going to have to keep being very blunt and hope it doesn't hit them too hard. "The thing is it's got a lot of death in it. Too much. That she'd ask that-"

Lemm cuts himself off with a sharp, angry little sigh. No, he's not going to fire the mood all the way back up again, not when they've just spent the whole time since taking their minds off it.

"If she knew, she'd never have asked. Not if she's got a shred of decency in her. S'that clear enough?" He really hopes so. Any more detail and he's going to have to go and kick something again.

...They suppose that makes sense. To consider.

And they'll consider it, too. Later. The know he's right, but they don't...want to keep following this. They've gotten mostly away from it, even as the question opened up another fissure in their chest.

They give a tight little nod and forge on.

I certainly don't mind you coming along to Dirtmouth, unless you don't want to use the Stagway/take a longer journey back down.

He abruptly breaks eye contact as soon as they give him a nod. While they're writing the next part, Lemm snatches that time to ground himself; they'll hear him sigh, muted and off to one side.

It takes him too long to register that the next part might be read as an invitation, and not something wholly passive. (It's dissected like a reliquary text analysis: the use of certainly, a deliberate unless - the fact it's in response to his earlier question of do you need a break from me and seems to bolster the answer of no. Complicated way of looking at it. Overly so. But he gets there.)

"I certainly wouldn't mind either," he responds, feeling out of his depth but oddly hopeful.

Only - last time he hadn't been invited, he'd just gone.

Another nod, up to their usual.

We can go up the cargo lift or back the way we came, and up past the Temple again. It might be easier than jumping from platform to platform, or using the rope for him. They don't trust it enough to start searching for the control mechanisms.

Also, they remember to add, in case this sways him: Cornifer is keeping an eye on Myla right now. I don't know if I've been gone for as long as expected.

Edited 2023-03-20 18:31 (UTC)

"Not a problem." It's not, perhaps surprisingly. Cornifer has thus far been very easygoing when they've met. And he knew Myla would be there. (This clarification does at least confirm it's their house he's being invited to, not just - let's go to Dirtmouth so you can take the Stag home. Nice to be clear about it.

"I vote the latter. That lift's more than easy going down. Up..." Up it'll be like the damned Resting Grounds all over again. Too many overhangs. And metal, which is arguably harder. "Up's a hassle. This Kingdom needs ladders."

He casts one last glance at Hegemol's armour, slumped as it is after a case of awkward handling, and allows a very faintly-amused huff.

"Shall we." He turns to go.

Perhaps as King I can command stairs to be built. Or the Lord of Shades could try to create their own, but that's a little too raw a subject.

It's amusing, though, to imagine that. They ponder who they'd need to ask as they turn and thoughtlessly take the lead again. Stairs, they don't know. Hornet could make ladders. Or the Weavers, or Herrah, but realistically, it would be her. For their own sentiment, the Knight'd still want it to be her. Do a duty for Hallownest that doesn't relate to stabbing them or fretting after their sibling.

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