the knight (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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boxfullofzeroes2022-10-31 05:57 am
focusedvoid) wrote in boxfullofzeroes2022-10-31 05:57 am
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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Knowing what he knows, Lemm thinks maybe she wears it well.
"Everyone's got an interest. I'd be content enough to see some approximation of that flower, if you manage. Better than nothing."
He affords a glance at the Knight's paper, manages to put two and two together, and nods.
He'd sort of hoped her answer would be no. This leaves him with the unfortunate task of following through on his offer. Lemm trudges over to the table to inspect the container of radishes, picking up the fork and prodding at them experimentally, like the Knight had.
They've kept well, thankfully. He's not sure he's in the mood to go and make domestic requests of the mapmaker right now.
Or ever."Still some radishes left. Looks like you can manage a fork." She should tell him if she needs to be hand fed, still. So that he can get the Knight to do it.
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It'll only be a couple minutes for the Knight to grab the water. Dirtmouth is a physically tiny place, and they've taken this trip plenty of times before, and not only for Myla.
Myla pats around the blankets until she finds a plate that got hidden in there. It's clean! Mostly. "No, b-b-but I can eat with my hands now!" Aiming a fork is hard for the first while, and trying something sharp with a hand full of something from another realm might not go well. Fortunately, her increased understanding was enough to discuss her shakiness, and most meals she gets are things she doesn't need to use utensils for.
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He picks up the radishes, and stands there a moment. Right.
He comes over to Myla and sheepishly holds out the container. "Here. The cartographer said you had these for dinner. I imagine they're manageable, in that case." He'll keep hold of the container until he's absolutely sure she has it settled. Myla's motor control does not seem a thing to rely on at present.
Lemm glances at the door. The Knight is not back yet, which. Well. Maybe he'll take the opportunity.
"Not sure how close you two are," he mutters, "but the Knight was - upset, thinking they'd done you harm. They're working hard to fix it. Hard for them to let you know that, I'd imagine." The reading. He sighs, and tries to make absolutely sure he cannot be misconstrued. "I'm only telling you they're trustworthy. Not that a stranger's opinion matters a jot."
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After her eyes properly focus, Myla tries to take it. Then she laughs at herself, setting the flower down, and takes it properly. "The radishes? They're pretty good! Sometimes they ex-experiment, and it's not that g-great," she drops her voice playfully. She immediately defends them after, though: "They d-don't have their usual ingredients."
She picks up a piece, ignoring the grains of salt, and bites in as he speaks. If she doesn't, she might get too caught up in conversation and forget.
She doesn't have any idea what he might say. She chews and hums agreement. "It's okay!" And she means it this time. "I c-can tell, haha. I don't know all of what they're doing, but I know they helped me when I couldn't d-do anything. I--"
(she can remember KILL THE EMPTY ONE and heat and burning, watching it, them, getting away, ESCAPING, singing, bury my sisters--)
"--I know! I know. I was afraid, but they st-stayed b-b-before, and they helped me from I used to b-be, and they brought me out of the d-dark! I know it was a m-mistake. They apologized after that, too. I t-trust them! A lot," she says earnestly.
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Dirtmouth isn't in his purview, normally. Dirtmouth as a part of a supply chain, now that he can backseat-micromanage.
...She is stuttering more. Guilt pools in the pit of his stomach and he reminds himself, again: keep it light, Lemm. What aren't you getting about keeping it light.
He coughs. Lightly.
"Aye. Well, s'the right approach. Just making sure they're... peer-reviewed." Subject change. Subject change now. Think of something, you blundering idiot. "How's this Godseeker, anyway? I'm getting mixed messages."
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Myla nods a little. She'd nod more if that wouldn't tip the container on the floor. That's a funny way of putting it, but she gets it! She was afraid. Terrified, even. But they helped her out so much after, and they owned up to their mistake! She knows plenty of miners who could've learned that themselves.
And now, she's being asked about Godseeker.
Myla hums. "Um. She's..."
There's a long pause as she loses herself, comes back, and still isn't sure what to say.
"...She's, um...w-well. What mixed messages did you g-get?"
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"I'm not hungry," he says, which currently seems to be a better excuse than his usual one. He also takes a step back, as if he's politely giving her space. (He's giving himself space.)
Draped in the blanket still, Lemm folds his arms.
"I know there's more than one Godseeker," he starts off with. "And I know where they're from, though I've never heard of it. I've a bare few glyphs to work from." An easy shrug. "I'm assuming this one you're talking about is significant. Only the Knight doesn't seem keen."
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"There's a lot of them, but only one that t-talks. Their b-b-b-boss, or spokesperson? And she's...she's, um. She's very...she's pretty weird," Myla admits. "I guess it's what a G-Godseeker is supposed to b-be, b-but she's very religious. She worships the 'G-god of Gods!'"
God of Gods is said in the best approximation of her accent that Myla can pull off. All things considering, it's pretty close.
"All the time. It's all she talks about. And she doesn't...I d-don't think she knows them very well. They're not really...like that, you know?" She waves a bit of radish at 'like that' around.
Speak of the 'god,' not long after, the door gets shoved open by that selfsame being.
They have a jug of water held over their head between their horns. A basket of sweet-smelling something hangs off an arm. The jug has a piece of paper jammed through its handle.
They stumble and move fast to the table. They're strong enough to carry all that, but the jug is still almost as big as they are and unwieldy because of it.
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...Myla's odd little impression sends a ripple of mirth through him, quite unexpectedly. His arms unfold; he fidgets with the blanket instead.
"Ah. Now I'm more educated." For all their thoughts on it, the Knight had never shared much on this. Hates politicking, though. Lemm scoffs, though marginally more good-natured than usual. "No, the Knight's not like that. Good to hear you've already come to that impression."
And: the door, the Knight, the sudden precarious-looking collection of objects.
"Ah!" Hopefully the intonation is enough to let her know he's excusing himself.
Lemm shrugs off the blanket, balls it, and throws it firmly over at the pillow pile as he strides over. The Knight will find a suddenly very pragmatic Lemm taking the heaviest item - the jug - and hefting it off them and onto the table.
The paper comes away with his hand, and he snatches at it to catch it. It is immediately offered to the Knight, still folded.
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Massively relieved, the Knight pushes the basket on there as well, slumping into a half-bow of thanks. The paper is taken and absently set by the basket, unfolding to show a sketch of leaves and unfamiliar writing asking a question.
This done, they immediately trot over to grab a shellwood cup off their sturdy shelf. Myla helpfully says, "I was just t-telling the Relic Seeker about how weird Godseeker is."
--That's slightly more blunt than they expected from her. But they pause to nod exaggeratedly for both to see, because she is entirely right, yes.
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Any excuse to badger them, gently, in front of others. Not because he aims to embarrass them, but because people ought to know: they are just someone.
The basket sits there, smelling of something entirely unfair.
Lemm sets to arranging everything on the table.
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Excuse them! They flail their arms at both terribly rude guests before they hop up on the stool, carefully pouring water into the cup.
There's not much for Lemm to arrange. He'll have the jug once the Knight's done with it, the basket, the abandoned fork, and the paper. (If he looks at the last one, it's a mostly-polite request for them to gather leaves from 'around where the leafy greens turn to fungal groves'.)
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Things are spaced out neatly on the table, as if for swift perusal. Everything in its place. The note is unfolded and spread for their sake, though he can't help from looking.
His head feels fuzzy, and he thought he'd woken up by now.
It's a morning for him, as close as this gets to one, and he is laughing at Myla's input and needling at the Knight and being helpful and.
Lemm goes to pick up and fold the scrunched blanket he cast aside. He's a mess in his own home. Other people's is a different matter.
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After that, they hop down and wander back to the table, where the basket is flipped open. It's packed full of pastries, courtesy of Elderbug. They're pretty sure it's meant to be payment in advance for his...leaves. He didn't explain what they were for, just that a traveller brought them up once and nobody else he'd asked bothered to help.
They fetch a few for Myla and then push the rest on the other side of the table from where they sit, an open invitation.
If you have more than what you've discussed, I'm ready for questions about Godseeker. As ready as they could possibly be.
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The air smells like baking. And he is hungry, this really isn't fair. He should go, and handle it, and not have anyone see too far beyond Relic Seeker Lemm to get to the Lemm part.
The Knight, he thinks, has already seen beyond the Relic Seeker. Hm.
With a flicker of his hand at Myla, he comes to sit at the table, finger-combing the ruffling from his beard only half-successfully, and reads.
"Ah..." Well. The obvious, first. "Can't say I'm not interested. You keep switching - Godseekers to Godseeker. Myla said there's a ringleader of sorts." He does not forget to nod at her. "It's all very odd."
He folds his hands on the table. He doesn't look at the pastries. But they're there.
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(could you read these for Myla to hear?)
They should've done that from the start, but they hadn't known if she was willing to talk around Lemm. An odd assumption, in retrospect. They're not going to beat themselves up over it.
I often refer that Godseeker in singular. The rest mostly sit around and wait, or watch battles, and don't communicate with me except to sometimes bow.
Myla is obligingly quiet as she hears their quill scribbling, switching from the radishes to a pastry with a soft mmm!
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He'd want to be skeptical, but he's getting adept at comparing all the impossible things he's seen of the Knight firsthand and going well, this isn't any stranger. They're sharing negative space with shadow Siblings and their Void can have objects put into it and, apparently, bugs like Myla. Really, Godhome is just more weirdness on top of existing weirdness. (And it's kind of fascinating.)
"The Knight's asked me to put a voice to their writing for you," he informs Myla, first, and skims back to the start.
(There's a subtle difference to his tone when he reads out loud, the cadence of a scholar reading a text a little more slowly and enunciating more carefully to avoid making mistakes. He's not doing it on purpose - a side-effect of taking this task rather more seriously than he needs to.)
He sits back when he's done with this part, and gives an evaluative hum.
"Pantheon referring to... a collective of gods," he starts. "To which they attuned." With a 'Godtuner', they've told him. "Through combat... All right - hold it. They watch battles. Why are there still battles going on? They've got their God of Gods already, haven't they? Are the rest infighting? What's going on in there?"
His head was full of fluff earlier. Now it's full of the smell of pastry and the thought of salted radishes, and it's dreadfully unfair because he hasn't had either in a long time. Lemm eyes the basket warily and considers how he can get away with it.
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(Thank you)
I don't know. I saw the Pantheons were still open and went to try them, and they allowed it. I think now they're admiring my abilities and/or trying to make up for
Midsentence, they realize they probably haven't explained this either. The Knight's head sags minutely before continuing.
insulting me. They did not know who what I was when I first attuned and saw me as interference. 'Crawler, coward, cringer, meagre one' were common names she used.
I was not particularly hurt by this, or desire them to make up for it.
They weren't hurt, but part of them would like it to be made up, somehow. They just don't think it's possible, with the Godseeker lost in her own little world of what they should be, and they're not going to push for wants they don't have their own solid details on.
Also: Their Gods were mostly not 'true' gods ex, White Lady (who is hiding from them?) but powerful beings through Hallownest, such as the Nailmasters. and the MantisTraitor Lord despite his being dead. I did fight the Nightmare King Grimm, however, as a Higher Being that currently is visiting above Hallownest without venturing below, but only him. Not Unn, no others that may or may not still linger somewhere. I don't know how it works.
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He reads, and saves his commentary for after. The first and only error he makes is: who is hiding from them. Lemm stops there, hms, and takes a second pass. ...who is hiding from them? It's strange to worry about intonation, to hear himself lilt upwards like that out loud. Normally this happens in his head and the small corrections happen un-witnessed.
"Those're all fairly archaic insults," he points out dully. "These Godseekers sound old-fashioned." This is not particularly relevant to anything. Why is he looking at the food again.
Lemm gives it some more thought. Or tries to. His mind helpfully clunks to a halt.
Gods damn everything, he's starving. Lemm growls his annoyance and considers eating by the window. Except there's a tarp on the outside, so that wouldn't look natural. And he can't read the Knight's writing from there.
Several rather interesting Old Hallownest curse words spring to mind, and his hand snaps out to snatch up a pastry.
"So the Godtuner you mentioned once," he gratingly starts up again, staring at it, "it's picking up on Hallownest somehow to give you a - pantheon of bugs in a place in your head - in your Void, or however you'd put it - who mostly aren't actually gods and you -" he waves the pastry vaguely "-drop in sometimes to do battle. On purpose. While these Godseekers watch. And she's there, too." He glances at Myla, then back. "S'that about the long and short of it?"
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The Knight puts a paw on their mask. If they could only sigh.
They glance up briefly at Lemm's sudden movement, but otherwise, nobody reacts. The pastries were there to be shared, after all. Between the Knight and Myla. With the former unable to eat, the spirit's still there.
Yes. There used to be a single, massive Godseeker with a physical body I found in the Waterways. I'm not sure, but I believe she is mostly the one who speaks for the rest. She wasn't quite as insulting out there. outside of Godhome/dreams.
Hesitating, they look to Myla. They...
...she, of all people, knows what the Lord of Shades is capable of.
I believe it was destroyed when I Ascended, which is how Godhome ended up in
mythe Void.no subject
"Pah. Sounds like a riot, that one." Condolences for their dead gods, and all. "Mote that forbearance maketh a patrician of all bugs, yet some it seems are basely intolerable. Unattributed."
With that, and while the Knight is looking down at what they're writing, Lemm sneaks a bite of the pastry - and oh that is tremendously unfair isn't it. He goes still, closes his eyes for a second, and huffs a very quiet sigh. Because that is delicious. There is just no way he can put this down.
Lemm is thoroughly invested before the Knight ends their last sentence.
Probably not the best timing, though. Taking care not to get crumbs on their page, he reads and then shoots them a cautious look. His first attempt at reading aloud is abruptly cut off when he remembers his mouth is full. Lemm brings a fist up to sit firmly in front of his mouth and frowns off to one side while he finishes chewing, even though the beard rather means there's little to see anyway. Then he reads.
"...I'd be hesitant to ascribe a moral to that, given the outcome." A pause. "I'm vastly underqualified to give you much more than that, I'm afraid."
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Intolerable is correct. I don't linger to communicate. I should. but I don't want to.
To the rest, the wait, and then simply nod. They're tense, tipping their head towards Myla slightly to see how she responds.
Which isn't with much. She hears and shifts around a little once it registers. She wasn't kidding when she told the Relic Seeker she wasn't afraid anymore! Not very much. Seeing the bugs surrounding her crack around their middles was absolutely disgusting, but not as disgusting as remains scraped from cave-ins, or any less than what she'd managed to dodge from in the Colosseum.
They made sure to tell her how lucky she was, that they were recycling rather than just dumping her out the bottom.
Myla defiantly shoves more pastry in her mouth. She's alive now, and it's good to know they can't get her again.
The Knight partially relaxes.
I don't know if I can get it/them out because of it. Myla still has her body and presence. Even if the one still exists undamaged somewhere, their/her plans for what to do with the rest of the Godseekers is unknown to me. They pause unhappily. More reason to properly communicate.
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He's already nodding along with the Knight's words even before he's done reading them out. He doesn't blame them for not wanting to communicate! It sounds difficult.
Whatever invisible thing passes between the Knight and Myla - and he suspects he knows what it is, but it's not for him to address - this and the time the Knight takes to write the next part makes for a decent pause. Lemm demolishes the rest of the pastry, sort of discreetly aimed away from anyone and pretending to be very interested in a far wall.
The next bit is read at the same time as hurriedly dusting crumbs out of his beard. That's the only thing about pastry...
"The Knight hates politicking," he informs Myla after, because if she doesn't know already he's decided she should. "In my professional opinion," he addresses the Knight, now, "if these Godseekers are so intent on you being their God of Gods, your only concern should be getting that to work for you. Tell them they've no business insulting anyone and maybe they'll listen."
He will reiterate: "My professional opinion, mind, being that of a bug who doesn't do people." It's worthless, basically. "Think if I were you I'd just look for a way to spit Godhome into a ditch and wash my hands of it."
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She nods, although she doesn't think dealing with Godseeker quite counts as politicking. She isn't sure what she'd call it.
If I ever can remove them, I'm afraid they'll storm through Hallownest and try to convert survivors to me.
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The next - he stumbles to the end of the sentence. This sits silently with him for a second. Then Lemm sputters a half-snicker into a hand, caught entirely off-guard by the absurdity.
"Good grief, then it sounds like you're doing Hallownest a favour! Shadelord help us if the Godseekers ever breach their sacred containment, and so on!" He waves a hand. "I'd be interested to see them try. Can't imagine it'd go down well with anyone, least of all that Zote fellow. No, I don't think you'd have much to worry about, there, Knight." Though he imagines it would be embarrassing. That admittedly makes it funnier for some reason he can't place. Probably because he's got a mean streak. He keeps that to himself.
Without looking, but with a great deal of premeditation, Lemm snags a second pastry. He'd veered away from considering how hungry he'd been until it started getting in the way of his ability to think. With that he can rationalise his way into having seconds.
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