the knight (
focusedvoid) wrote in
boxfullofzeroes2022-10-31 05:57 am
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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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...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.
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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.
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"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.
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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?
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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"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.
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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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He's not privy to whatever inner debate they're having, but they look focused. Content to leave them to it, Lemm hurries along at their side and allows his own mind to wander.
So: he has been invited to visit. He feels more steady about it this time, knowing he's expected. It's not for business and it's spur-of-the-moment and for some reason that makes it feel significant - it's not. Bugs do this kind of thing all the time. (Other bugs.)
That they're content to have him stick around is also a plus, in general. He'd been half-convinced that following them from the Resting Grounds was a bad idea, seeing how upset they'd been. Lemm finds himself hard-pushed to regret sticking to the idea, now.
The scenery passes largely unnoticed. There are no anecdotes he can come up with when he's too deeply wrapped up in his thoughts. It's a peacable quiet, though.
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It's surprisingly not long before they're, indeed, passing the Temple again--the Knight briefly dips in, as though something might have changed (it hasn't)--and making their way to Dirtmouth's chain.
Pausing, they stare at the tiny circle of flickering clouds above.
...They weren't quite thinking about what to do when they're actually up there again. He's coming over. They've never had someone only...visit.
They'll just need to figure it out, they decide, starting to climb.
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He'll be back, later. To fact-check and verify. When he's got enough to do that for. (Feels strange, too, imagining an end to that.)
Lemm waits until the Knight is clambering up over the edge before he even starts, mindful of how a second climber would jar the chain for them. When he takes his turn, it's slowly done and with a lot of use of the walls to make things easier. Up is, indeed, a hassle.
Eventually he claws his way over the lip and hangs there for a moment, face half-sunk behind his arms in a way that looks entirely casual and partly happens to mask the fact that he's panting. Then he hauls himself up and over, wincing as his beard snags between the chain and the well and he has to irritably snatch it back.
(He decides, then and there, he's going to keep his eyes down and not check who might be watching.)
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Zote is there.
And with that, they don't even wait to hear what he starts saying. They grab Lemm's hand and immediately starts pulling him towards their house, past the knight of no renown before he can fully center his attention. Some time they would find the potential of them arguing amusing, or at least interesting, but this is not it.
Elderbug watches them pass in bemusement and some small understanding.
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It'd be rude of him not to - they're moving very fast, though - but what if this reflects badly -
Helped very much by the Knight's hurrying, Lemm is forced to cut off the panicked reaction of how do I respond, and instead just flags a hand over his shoulder in a very rushed little wave without looking back.
In hindsight: probably the best option.
"Need to get better at this," he mutters, just loud enough for the Knight to hear, as they head for their home.
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Cornifer lowers a tiny notebook, looking surprised. "Hello! Both of you. Is everything alright?"
The Knight nods furiously. It's fine. It's just Zote.
On the couch behind where Cornifer is seated on one of several floor cushions, Myla is also looking vaguely in their direction. The Knight knows she sometimes waves, but her hands and upper torso are currently busy being pinned under Grimmchild's curled-up body.
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It is a relief when he can pull the door closed behind them, and as unsociable as he is, Cornifer is a welcome alternative.
Straightening up and self-consciously pulling his hand from the Knight's, Lemm fusses with his beard and dips his head in a curt nod to Cornifer's question - and then to Myla, who seems more present than last he saw her.
He sounds breathless, in mind if not in actual breath: "Dropping by for a visit," he says, which he's pretty sure is the natural and innocuous thing to say. As if he does it all the time.
...Ah. What do people say next, though.
Lemm glances from Cornifer to Myla to the Knight, narrows his eyes, and goes silent instead.
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Grimmchild protests mildly as they get pushed down by increments, onto her lap instead. The Knight has no sympathy. They're allowed to be up there when she's asleep, all the way, and she isn't!
"Well, it's good to see you again!" Cornifer says after absorbing that sight. "We just finished dinner, but there's some salted radishes left over," he adds, nodding towards a container on the table. (It's a different one from last time, much sturdier.)
That's aimed at Lemm more than the Knight. He's been starting to notice certain odd things about his friend, and he's slower on the uptake on these things than Iselda. No words exchanged, they're politely deciding to ignore it for now.
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Cornifer is being friendly. Food is being shared, like Iselda did but less - ...less. This is a broad offer and not task delegation. Also very ordinary.
Two bugs, a Vessel, and a strange chirping creature being ordinary and domestic.
No, three. Three bugs. He is here also. Right. Still standing by the door.
Lemm fails to answer Cornifer's prompt for enough time that he feels awkward about answering at all: "I just ate."
...
...Oh, good grief.
"Thank you."
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He stands and stretches, tucking his notebook into the pocketed belt that substitutes his sack when he's not to wander. "Well, I'll be leaving it here. It's salted enough it'll keep for a while," he says to the Knight. "If you're staying?"
They nod. One of Myla's hands rises, patting them on a horn before returning to Grimmchild. They pat her back, and tap Grimmchild between their eyes, who completely ignores this.
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(The mining-bug is being far more responsive. It feels less like delirium and more like disorientation. Suddenly the Knight's visit makes more sense; she really is doing better. Somehow.)
Lemm watches until Cornifer makes for the door. This prompts him to realise he's still standing in front of it, and he diverts away to go find a place to put his bag, as if he'd been meaning to the whole time. As if he's not someone who needs to get acclimatised to a home he's been invited to.
"Thank you," he calls over his shoulder, clipped and weird, as the door shuts.
Lemm resists the urge to lean horn-first against the wall where he's dumped his bag. Like a rusty gate he turns slowly to face the room again and wanders over to the table.
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Maybe they should've warned him about Zote. He's standing outside the map shop, after all...but they're not going to chase him for it. Everyone's dealt with Zote. Iselda can rescue him if there's trouble.
At as much of a loss but not quite as obvious, they adjust Myla's nest a little and then wander to the table, too, and look in at the radishes. Yes, looks like radishes, sliced into manageable chunks. They can't smell it, but they look clean. As they expect they would be, but old Wastes-traveller habits win out, and they poke it with a three-pronged fork resting nearby to make sure.
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Lemm settles at the table and tries to stop overthinking the social contract thing, only now he has a different problem because there is food in front of him.
It occurs to him very belatedly that he has forgotten to attend to several of the basic requirements of an ordinary bug, at first due to getting typically wrapped up in his work and then because the Knight dropped by to provide further distractions. This complicates things.
He tears his eyes away from the radishes and nonchalantly scans the room instead, skirting over the details in case anything else than the table has changed since last time.
"Should get mine up," he mutters, with a gesture at the Delicate Flower sconce. "I've a terrible habit of wanting to have things and then doing nothing with them."
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They sift through the radishes a bit more until they're judged reasonable, and then they flop down to sit.
You might hang it somewhere without a lumafly. It would still look nice nonfunctional. It isn't as though theirs is doing amazingly well, hanging awkwardly on the ceiling rather than on a wall as designed.
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Look nice. What a strange thing to think about suddenly, because yes, the sconce objectively looks nice, but - also his shop already does look nice, it's why he chose the place, it has period features! But barring the relics on display, which is different, it occurs to him now that not much is anything he put there for the sake of looking nice.
"...I might," he says, after this thought. "You're doing a fine job of making this place look lived in, if that's anything." There. A compliment. People compliment each other's houses.
And it's kind of true. Honestly, he doesn't take much issue with their flower-sconce being hung up like that. It reminds him vaguely of some kind of eclectic mobile. Suits their weirdness just fine for the time being.
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LEMM JESUS CHRIST ;_;
sitting on that one for a while ngl
💔
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