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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With the size of them, at this angle his arms would be curled around them too far - so he's opted to fold around them casually, like they just happen to be in the midst of it while he was crossing his arms. The position still has them pressed comfortably against him, and it feels... nice. His face rests between their horns; they're both folded in like fitting shapes.

If he is their friend, then his mistake is on their reputation, it was their this is Relic Seeker Lemm, hope you get along, and he managed it very badly.

This didn't go well, he hadn't managed it well, but they're letting him - he tightens his grip a notch, suddenly overwhelmed - they'd still touch -

...

He loosens up and makes himself let go before he can cling too hard and push his luck. His hands fidget back into his lap.

It has helped. He won't overdo it.

This seems to help, and hopefully can communicate their appreciation better than yet another bow.

They were slow to come over and hold on, and they're slow to let go, hanging on and then letting their face press in.

...This is a little for them, too.

They Knight peels themselves off and slip back onto the table, sitting there instead of going back to the chair. No matter how light, Lemm was trembling. He's so much more upset...than they thought. Than they want.

They had time to put thoughts into words, clinging to his shell. And to go over a lot of things they know of him by now.

You're not 'good at this' but you weren't 'good at this' before, with me. You learned with me. I don't expect you to become friends, and I don't care if you decide you don't like Myla. or if she decides she doesn't like you. It isn't required. That doesn't mean I think you're too fool to be incapable of learning with her.

Edited 2023-03-22 02:44 (UTC)

Lemm just - sits there. Odd that they haven't gone to sit down. Odd that they're still so close. They're odd; this is reassuring when the other things won't seem to land. He stares down at his hands and waits for them to finish writing. Some part of him half-expects a lecture, and when he eventually looks up that's more or less what he gets - but it's a kinder one than he was waiting for.

(Lemm knows the Knight wouldn't have been unkind. This does not yet shake off conditioning.)

He stares at the page a bit longer. It's only now that he's realising how much trouble he's having dismissing the belief that certain things are expected - things he may not be able to do. Now that he's removed the option of simply leaving and waiting for his problems to go away, it feels like a trap. Setting himself up to fail.

This will be easier to catch now that they've identified it. And the Knight thinks he might not, and - it doesn't matter if he does. He'll have to keep an eye on that. Gratitude slowly creeps up on the miserable coil in his chest and sets to work.

They get a small, stiff nod. It's too hard to address the rest out loud, but he can let them in on one thing. Because it would be too easy to let them think he doesn't, and because it feels like he should offer something positive:

"I like Myla," he half-explains. Lemm looks down again and shrugs. It's difficult to admit after he committed to letting everyone believe otherwise. "I like a lot of people." The problem is rarely with them.

Lemm's done an excellent job putting up that front. Enough that even the Knight, who's poked and prodded and seen through that, is struck by it, and still for a while.

...But that makes sense, doesn't it. Why they had to do such in the first place. Just as with them, there must have been many before Hallownest--possibly in Hallownest--who leapt upon his bluntness and saw only cruelty, or didn't even give that much of a chance and struck first.

And they've been honest about a lot of things. Explained much they never had, not for lack of wanting to, but for lack of being listened to.

I see. And I believe it's too early to decide Myla doesn't like you. I doubt it.

I know less about your history than you do mine. and I assume there's a good reason. But I believe you have been unfairly/quickly judged far too often. Like myself. Know that I'm glad to help cut against that.

They're touching a boundary they haven't fully before; poking a Shade that isn't their own, at all. The Knight needs to work to keep steady, and can't fully manage it in every glyph.

"I don't care if she doesn't." That came out too quickly, like most things he says about other people, and it isn't quite what he means. He tries again. "She doesn't have to," he corrects. That's better.

The thing is that it's not usually up to him whether or not he's liked, and he's long made peace with that. He can watch other people's lives play out from the outside and not get involved. It's safer that way. There are hundreds of other people's lives on his shelves; it's all the same.

...The Knight likes him. And they have a fair few things in common, as they both keep finding.

"I do know." Lemm's gaze drifts up to meet theirs, just studying them for a while. "You've made it clear enough." By helping him. Offering so much patience. Their reassurances, over and over, that his mistakes haven't put an end to it. He knows, and it's more than enough.

This isn't how they meant it, but it strikes him as unfair not to offer something. They're right; he's witnessed so much of their history, and he has let them in on almost nothing of his.

Hesitantly, Lemm offers them this:

"I'm not keeping any big secrets, you know... Hard to imagine what'd be of any interest." A huff, soft and just barely tinged with forced humour. "Like you, I suppose. Except anything I thought to tell would be shockingly mundane."

They nod. It doesn't matter that much if two friend of theirs don't get along; they would prefer it, but they know forcing it from the outside isn't needed. It's why they wrote as much. They're close to that with the Nailmasters, after all. Allied with Deepnest and the Mantis Tribe both.

They just don't think that's a concern. Myla's been kind to them nearly the whole time they've known her, and the few times she wasn't were under extreme duress where she wasn't herself.

Under his gaze, they're still.

A little too still, they realize, and make their body relax into their natural tiny fidgets.

It wouldn't be mundane to me. should you ever want to. It isn't as though they'd know what to ask, other than tearing ugly truths to light that might not need to be. They wryly gesture around the room. I don't even know what a house should have.

He's still a little shaken up; normally it doesn't get this bad. Normally the situation is his to handle and he gets to deal with it how he likes (get angry with himself, burn a bridge, go home and hide).

He'll be fine. He just - needs to adjust.

"Aye. Well. I can't say shelves full of relics with a straight face." The sigh he gives sounds tired. "Made me realise I've not given much thought to that in some time. I get..." How to put this delicately. Because Relic Seeker Lemm is so very good at delicate. "Carried away."

His back room shouldn't look like that, is what he's saying.

"Last time I lived in a place that looked like the kind of house you're talking about, I'd have been your height." He shrugs. "One of the few times being a Relic Seeker in a dead city's made me sound ordinary - I wasn't pulling suggestions from my home, I mean. You weren't the only one at a loss there."

Carried away, obviously. The Knight nods slightly. They're not thinking of the back just now; the wall-to-wall relics alone are a hefty indicator.

For a moment, they consider teasing about him ever being as small as them. That wouldn't make much sense, though, and they're not feeling up to humor.

They shrug. The principle is the same.

Although perhaps not now. Later. for time to consider it. We've had a long journey for such a short route.

This particular walk from City of Tears to Dirtmouth has been more emotionally eventful than most full-kingdom circlings.

This, he can agree on. They've barely done all that much travelling and he feels like lead. It has far more to do with the mental than the physical.

Lemm gives an uneven little wave of his hand. "Aye, aye. Not trying to get into it... I'm just saying, that makes two of us."

He registers he's looking at the radishes again when he catches himself zoning out. Maybe it's time he went home and did food. Proper food, instead of grazing on preserves at his desk between translation projects. Might make a change... Didn't he tell himself that last time?

It's just - despite everything that's happened and the concern of overstaying his welcome, Lemm finds himself reluctant to leave.

"One of these days we'll manage to meet without it turning into a theatre production," he mutters. "Looking forward to that." Half a joke, but only half.

They nod, waving a paw in general agreement. And doubt. Hallownest has been a production since they got here, even if currently it's on a less apocalyptical scale now.

Observant as always, Lemm's apparent eyeing is noticed. You can have some if you like. Or I can find something else if you can't digest those. They completely tuned out Cornifer initially offering them.

He shakes his head. "I just ate," he says without thinking, the same answer he gave Cornifer.

...

Maybe it'll still slide past, if he's nonchalant enough about it. He asks another innocuous question to move on.

"D'you have a cycle up here? Time, I mean. Day and night." By the accompanying circling hand gesture, he means the 'royal you'. All of Dirtmouth.

It doesn't.

The Knight stares at him in absolute confusion. They hadn't seen him take anything out of his pack on the way. They remember to tilt their head to express it better. When?

They're slow in answering, so Lemm can have time to explain himself on that.

The sky gets lighter sometimes. Elderbug has a schedule to sleep. I don't know if anyone else does past caretaking shifts.

He turns his head away for a second or two, reassessing, then offers something slightly less like nonsense: "Not hungry, I mean."

Urgh. That excuse always works so easily when he hasn't just spent a long span of time in someone's observant company. Which used to be never.

"Ah. I'd wondered. Not much in the way of rhythm down in the capital either, as we've seen." Their meetings are random and disorderly and completely unscheduled. It's worked so far, and he's not knocking it. "I was wondering if there was a way to tell how long I've hung about in your property. Don't think I ought to get in the habit of imposing, but I've never had much sense of time. My shop closes when I close it."

...Alright, then. They don't know how often he has to eat, so the Knight leaves it. After a few more moments of staring.

I mostly let Cornifer and Iselda set time. I don't have any reason to.

Do you want to get home? they write with a pang.

Edited 2023-03-22 18:12 (UTC)

There is a mild, short-lived flicker of relief when they take to the subject change without pushing further.

The question is unassuming. He stares at it anyway.

"I've nothing pressing to get back for," he says, which is true. "Which is why I'm asking. If you're needing your space you'll have to say so. I'm prone to losing track of time."

Edited (phrasing) 2023-03-22 18:24 (UTC)

They shake their head quickly.

And then hesitate.

They're not wanting space. But they're wanting...they want to stop, for a little while.

Not sleep. Not leave. Just stop.

I don't want you to leave. if you don't. But I'm getting tired of writing.
And I don't want to kick you out when Zote's out there, they add, mustering up a flicker of levity. Even if it's honest.

Proper relief, this time. It wouldn't have done any good to overstay, especially not when this is the first time he's been invited. They still want him here. (After making the mistake with Myla, that concern was somewhat bigger than he'd expected.)

Lemm glances over at Myla, still sleeping. Then back to the Knight.

"You've no need to write a thing, then. We managed just fine before you started pulling out the quill." Simpler times, even.

Wait.

He squints. "Zote was out there?" He glances at the door, this time in bafflement - and then it clicks. "Oh, him! I didn't get a good look. Half a mind to go and rectify that so I know what I'm up against." He's not serious. He is in no mood. Still, worth the return joke.

He waves a hand, then, to indicate he doesn't need further information. Not on Zote. Not on anything, except this.

"I'm - I'd be content to stay. Anywhere you'd rather I sit than here? Wouldn't want to get in your way."

Edited 2023-03-22 18:46 (UTC)

Just fine is a mild overstatement, but they take it gratefully.

They nod and pat the hilt of their Nail. Lemm can use it. ...If he tried, they bet he could split through that Life Ender's shellwood, even without training.

They wave vaguely--they're tired of writing, but they're going to be clear here: Little to get in the way of. Myla sleeps. I wait and listen. You don't need to be quiet.

With that, though, they hop down and flutter over to the cushion half-pile, flopping onto it. With one paw, they shove one of the plushier red ones out for Lemm to sit on or otherwise grab.

That's it, then. He's invited to stay. Easy as that. Somehow he was expecting it to be more of a fumble about.

He stands and goes to fetch his bag - there's a Wanderer's Journal in there that will do nicely as a timewaster - and considers returning to the table, but the Knight is offering a pillow closer to them, and... For now, he's willing to indulge the part of him still making a fuss over how willing they are to share space with him.

Lemm quietly comes over and nudges the pillow into a convenient position beside the pile, and eases somewhat stiffly down onto it, bag set beside him. A Journal is dug out and rested on his lap.

He affords the Knight a glance, just for a moment. He's hard to read with so much still processing, but it's one of the rare times it's an entirely unguarded look. The gist is that it's fond. He's tired enough from today that he can't be bothered to keep that to himself.

Lemm turns his attention down to the text. He gets a few lines in.

"I could read out loud, but I doubt this one's going to be much of an adventure." Just an aside. He's not bothered either way, but his default is silence.

The Knight shifts a little closer when he isn't looking. Not because; they just don't think of it until he's settling in.

They wave vaguely. It's up to Lemm. They're listening, mostly, for threats. Not that there are any in Dirtmouth, but old habits die hard.

Listening for Zote, mostly, as he might actually disturb their guests. Listening for Iselda or Cornifer or Elderbug or Sly, not overly likely to visit, but to wander by. If the winds are low, their sharp hearing can catch bits of conversation that happen by the bench. Iselda and Sly argue sometimes. Iselda argues with Zote more, but she doesn't argue with Zote for nearly as long.

They'd like to see her weapon one day. They presume it's something interesting, and to scale with her height.

He settles for quiet, then.

(He notices that they're closer the next time he looks. He is valiantly pretending he doesn't, because anything that risks the warmth in his chest is not worth addressing.)

He will sometimes read out a line or two, though, even if he doesn't parse the whole thing. Just small fragments here and there, bits that mean something he finds interesting or funny and suspects the Knight might, too. Mostly it's silence, interspersed with rare, short snippets of very quiet, calm commentary.

...His position becomes untenable after a while. Trying not to overthink it, Lemm pauses to scoot backwards until he's resting his back against the pile of pillows. Far more comfortable. That he's a little bit closer to the Knight is a side-effect. He's surprised when he finds that pleasant, rather than a new source of things to worry about.

He sleeps on pillows at home, just like this. The Knight is a comforting presence. The soft whisper of winds is almost a parallel of the rain on the window. Earlier stress falls away, piece by piece.

Feeling pleasantly untethered, Lemm finishes what he's reading and rests the journal against his chest, and just stares quietly at the ceiling. He could get used to this. He'd like to.

When Lemm says something particularly interesting, they motion for elaboration, or pat their stomach with amusement at the funny strange parts. Otherwise, the Knight mostly keeps in place, letting themselves rest. They're already in position to let their head dip down, like a bench. Thoughts about Seer or the Nailsmith or unpleasantly mundane things are easier to skim over and set aside.

It'll be up to Lemm to break the steady, settled silence. The Knight is content.

After a time the journal is slid aside onto the floor and Lemm's empty hands fold over his middle, comfortable and content. In someone else's home. With someone else. Not for business or to settle anything, but to be here. To be present.

With someone else.

His head feels like flaking bark. In a good way.

...A long time passes.

Half-dozing, it feels like the weight of his horns pulls him against the pillows. Lemm quietly pushes forward, up off the cushions, and picks up the journal again to quietly re-read.

At the larger movement, the Knight lifts and turns their head, amused and...not exactly worried. But they think he might be getting bored.

They wriggle a paw at the journal in his hands.

Sluggish, it takes him a moment to register what that gesture means.

"...Just reviewing," he mumbles.

The Knight's home - moreover, the Knight - is quiet, and safe. Soporific as that is, Lemm finds it hard to focus on the text. He settles for staring vacantly down at it instead.

A walk in the Dirtmouth winds would wake him up, but there are people out there. Anyway he doesn't want to. Being half-awake here is pleasant, and newly so. He'll be fine if he stays upright, even if his posture sinks into something that'll have him stiff later.

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LEMM JESUS CHRIST ;_;

sitting on that one for a while ngl

💔

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