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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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I'm grateful I don't need to interact with their old gods, they respond to that inflection. The Godseekers are insufferable, but they probably didn't make themselves that way completely. Probably.

The Knight pauses to point an accusatory paw. 'Shadelord below' again--they decide to find it funny.

I don't want them to! I don't need a holy war in my name. that isn't even my name. Or to be rude to everyone. even if Zote would be funny, her bothering Elderbug wouldn't.

He did it consciously this time, which changes things significantly. Deliberate comedy by doing something on purpose is not the same as being caught doing something you didn't mean, and Lemm gives them a look that seems almost smug as he reads their response.

Lemm catches himself about to state the obvious, and reels himself in with some difficulty. Yes, well, Hallownest's seen its fair share of- keep it light, for Shadelord's sake stop doing that!

"Holy war seems excessive. The elder weathered me well enough." He wouldn't wish it on Elderbug any more than they would. He's just saying things. Lemm makes a vague gesture with his free hand to indicate this and moves on. "We're falling into hypotheticals again. None of this is pressing... What's Godhome like?"

He is asking the both of them, really.

War, perhaps would be. Great insult and rudeness to many is still unpleasant, particularly since I don't care about it and that would give the opposite impression. The debacle with Seer was enough, even without her cutting request. They don't want anyone else to try grovelling at first instinct.

They nod and stop to think.

"It's like a d-dome. There's water on the bottom, s-silver and shining yellow, but not dangerous. There are pillars and b-b-buildings sticking out of it, all the same color!" Myla gives a few architectural descriptors as best she can. Her head starts tilting around, and sometimes her words peter out--she's describing what she's literally looking at. She takes a special mention of the leaves that are bigger than she is, the same color as almost everything else.

"And there's dark grey f-fog on the outside, making the dome. If you s-swim through that, there's the Void, and my friend's S-Siblings!"

The Knight repeatedly nods to verify.

Inside the Pantheons are arenas that appear and disappear as opponents are fought. These have the same shell of shining metal and the audience watching from the back. Each arena has something like where I found them throughout Hallownest. Nosk's arena was nearly dark as Deepnest, for example.

Lemm tilts his head slightly at that reading. There is a running trend, he thinks, of him saying things and the Knight answering as if he were serious. This is nothing new in his life, but maybe he'll manage to unpick how that works, with time.

Myla's description - after a second - makes Lemm perk up, in the same way he does whenever there's pertinent information about a relic or a historic detail or location that he's committing to memory. The same goes for reading the Knight's addition, on the first quick pass before he reads aloud. (It is easier to quickly get through the second pastry when he's completely enraptured by minutiae.)

He sits back, rubbing his fingers together to try and rid himself of the sugary feel without anything to wipe them on, and goes vacant for a bit as he tries to picture Godhome.

Maybe they came from somewhere grandiose, nothing needs pillar supports unless there are wide roofs - and the concept of battle arenas influenced by the origin of its champion, oh, that would fill a journal.

"...If they're working from memory, it sounds like these Godseekers have a solid idea to go on." Perhaps it's a snapshot of their place of origin. Perhaps it's something else. Myla's description has rather entranced him, and this shows a little in the way his posture goes tight. "I'd visit, if I could."

A pause, clearly meant to be the end of his input, before he very hastily adds:

"Thank you. That's fascinating."

"You're welcome! It's gorgeous!" Myla agrees readily. "You could t-try now, but maybe that should w-wait until my problem's solved, haha."

The Knight waves their claw. I can try it after that's solved, yes. If you like. And if I can communicate with Godseeker properly. I don't think you'd enjoy each other's presence.

I think I saw a part of their land in a memory once. Her memory. It was too battered by wind and dark for me to tell much, but it didn't look like Godhome. I saw mostly stone when lightning flashed.

Lemm stares. Try what.

As he reads: ...Oh. Oh, no he hadn't been serious, this all felt very impossible and out of reach and he hadn't really thought...

He is a friend of the god in charge. Lemm blinks as the ramifications hit.

Right. After. After all this, and there's no guarantee, and he's still entertaining some leftover dregs of skepticism about some things, but. He nods. Enthusiastically, despite himself.

"That's her problem," he decides, easily. Again, no one has to like him. And his job is just to learn, not to like anyone. "That all sounds very poetic."

A pause. Land of Storms, dark and harsh and lightning-struck. Gleaming metal pillars, plants winding about, cloud misted edges. He is maybe very mildly starry-eyed over this. It is tucked away quickly.

"After Myla," he says firmly. Myla might catch the silhouette of his horns tilting at her, acknowledgingly. "But you'll have no peace from me then, Knight, you've dangled a great deal of information in front of a Relic Seeker and you ought to know it won't lie." Only fair to warn.

I suppose.

(I don't want to watch her insult/discomfit you.)

They tip their head down. Of course. They don't mind questions about the place. Just...the people. Their leader. Which is unfair of them, they know. It's not enough to sweep away severe reluctance.

"Maybe if there's a p-p-passage--a way in and out, I can show you around! It's not that b-b-bad after you remember you can't drown there. There are some b-black stairs, too! Knight made them for me."

His first reaction is to go hm, in mild amusement, with his hands folded stoically on the table. Because what do they think he's made of? Glass-?

His second reaction, and it comes remarkably quickly, is to register that no, they do not think so. And that it is nice to be cared about.

Lemm's expression doesn't change, but he dips his horns. "I'd manage." (Inside: fluff, unwelcome and difficult to oust.)

Myla's input is interesting. And it feels open, too. He rallies.

"Resourceful little bug you are, aren't you! I'd -" have you paid for the time-? no, wrong, be indebted to-? wrong, somehow, still. Lemm stops. And tries again. "I wouldn't try too hard, if I were you. But if you stumble on anything, I'd be interested." There. Open ended, innocuous, says nothing of transaction. "You can change things there, then?" he asks the Knight.

He has been out of his depth for some time. But it doesn't feel bad.

Lemm would manage.

The Knight doesn't know if they would. Considering it alone raises bubbles of anger in the center of their chest. Communication will have to be a priority, unfortunately. At least with them. After Myla's been fully rescued.

They have quite a to-do list.

Still. Again.

"Haha, thanks! I don't know if there are any normal Relics in there, but I can check next time I s-sleep! What d-do you like?" Myla starts chewing on another pastry.

I can, though I haven't tried much beyond stairs and an exit. Trying to make an exit made the whole of it quake, so I gave up on that. The clouds and sea were all gold before my full ascension.

They pause and tilt their head to and fro, looking around their house. Full of things they brought, and full of gifts offered to them. Some were mildly pushed, but all were welcome. To them. The Godseekers would allow them anything, but...

I suppose I don't want to significantly force change where they live.

What does he like...? What does he like. What a question. He's been asked similar (what am I supposed to bring back, what will you pay the most for) but not this.

Haltingly: "It seems you've an eye for crafts. I'd expect anything that caught your eye would catch mine all the same."

He feels exposed, suddenly, and turns his attention on reading duty all too quickly.

The Knight's thoughts on this are about what he expected, because what he's come to expect is pragmatic decency.

"That's respectable enough," he tells them. "I'd be tempted to experiment, but I can see your reasoning. Still," Lemm adds, amusement carrying his tone for the most part, "you know what I think about stairs. Hardly think the Godseekers could complain about that."

You're reasonable. They're not. But they haven't objected to those.

Getting through the pastry and re-focusing on the conversation, Myla says, almost in addition--though she can't read what they said--"I will! Although I d-don't know how they make their crafts. They don't have...they're all wrapped up in cloth from top to b-b-bottom. I've never seen anybody's hands. I don't know how they make anything!"

Or move, the Knight adds. Perhaps they hop everywhere when we're not looking.

He dips his head in acknowledgement. They're not wrong.

There are a couple of stops and starts when he reads this time, as he quite obviously begins picturing that halfway through. Lemm huffs in amusement.

"How utterly mystifying! I guess I shouldn't be shocked by anything at this point." He's terribly curious, now. "I suspect it's ceremonial, then. Usually -" And he stops. There is nothing else, he just cuts himself off like he didn't start at all. He'd been going to talk about funerary rites, and looks mildly annoyed at himself for a second before moving on.

"May be it's a component of them being committed to the Dream," he guesses, unrelatedly. "Can't say I ever had to think that hard about moving around, when I've dreamed. Might be that it doesn't matter to them that way. Much prefer your theory, though, Knight."

He rises from his seat to go retrieve a cleaning cloth from his bag, and returns with rather less sugary hands.

They raise their paws up and applaud themselves as Myla cracks up so hard she nearly tips off the bench. Fortunately, the Dirtmouth couch is too full of blankets for that to be a worry here.

The physical Godseeker had small, delicate claws. The rest of their/her(?) form was significantly larger than her self in Godhome, and was proud of that presence.

The Knight pours out whatever they can think of about how they all look, in case that could mean something, with Myla adding a few details they'd never stopped and noticed.

They also gesture between the basket and Lemm's bag once he turns back around. Go ahead, take more.

He's amused that Myla is so amused. Here again the strangeness of it hits him - sitting around in someone else's home, passing the morning with conversation with two other people and it hasn't - yet - ended in disaster. Feels like he's tricking them. Lemm attempts to hold that thought at arm's length and basks in the normality a while longer.

...The way the Godseekers look is enough confirmation that something highly ceremonial has gone on. And he suspects, in some way, it is related to why or how they seem to have hitched a mental ride on one body and left the rest behind. This he touches on only vaguely, and makes comments on the masks more than the rest. They'd be heavy and restrictive made of anything metallic. The golden colour marks them as particularly unique, and foreign to Hallownest, as Myla seems to have figured out.

It's all carefully filed in his head, as all such information is.

"I'm not..." Lemm stops the automatic response and looks down. He mumbles a thank you, even if he doesn't reach for the basket now. Maybe when he leaves.

Which he should. Soon. Reluctant as he is, he can feel himself getting antsy and there is a lull in the conversation, so -

"...I've relics to be getting back to." He sounds almost like he's testing the water on whether or not this is a polite way of doing it.

They nod. Take several. Elderbug made them. They seem good, and I don't want them to go to waste.

At the rest, Myla starts slightly and looks around, as if there's anything to indicate time...well, anywhere.

The Knight can tell it's a hint to Lemm considering heading back, and they flounder. It shouldn't be a problem, but--they're the one usually leaving. Or they're both leaving together. They nod again.

"Oh! What do you usually b-b-buy and s-sell?" Myla asks before he can do much more. She's not interested in outright riches, but there's nothing wrong with going along with other interests--and she already wants to visit the Shining City, even if it's a waterlogged mess!

At the offer, Lemm stares hard at the pastries for rather a lot longer than anyone really needs to think about that.

He's jolted out of it when Myla speaks. This at least is a simple question. Work he's comfortable with. Lemm turns to face her and rests one arm on the table.

Just in the nick of time he remembers to keep the is this not obvious? tone well out of his voice. "Relics," he answers. "And I don't sell."

This topic was a danger zone last time. Lemm hesitates. With his hand out of his lap, the Knight will be able to see his blunt claws fidgeting subtly where they're tucked in against the table.

"I specialise in Hallownest," which is a professional way of saying he's personally interested in Hallownest, "and the more historied an item is, the better." And then, because it's only fair: "Don't expect me to be good company, but I -" it all went wrong here, didn't it? "- pay fairly." Fidget, fidget.

"I d-don't know a lot about relics! I'm not s-sure what kind of thing you might like having, haha," she clarifies, confusion along the edge of her tone. Running a shop but not selling sounds strange. Not Myla's business though! She doesn't think she wants any relics for herself.

The fact he pays fairly is a subconscious plus. She might not need outright wealth, but Geo in your bag is always a good thing!

"You've been fine company! Oh--but I can be p-professional," she assures. There were all sorts of stories about the older folks who went to the Shining City and returned scandalized at their ill manners, including shopkeeps that didn't want to hear about how your day has been. Myla can handle that!

Is she not-asking-but-kind-of-asking him what a relic is? Lemm hates this question. Not because it's a silly one, by any stretch. It's just - if he's too specific, people don't use their heads about what to bring him. If he's not specific enough, he gets junk. And sometimes the line blurs, because Relic Seeking is... personal.

Good thing, then, that he's had a long time to form an answer.

"A relic's usually three things: old, rare, and storied. Usually a combination." But not always. This is implied. "The Knight's been bringing me Wanderer's Journals and Hallownest Seals, generally. Can't complain." He doesn't look at them, but he does tip his horn appreciatively in their direction. (They've brought him much more than those two things, and can't complain is far from it. Not fair to put such unrealistic expectations on a stranger though.) "A Relic Seeker's a picky beast! Try me."

Fine company. Right. Well, she's been both, not that he's bold enough to say so.

Though Myla also seems... naive. This might pose a problem. Only fair to warn her.

"If you run into a high-shelled bug with glasses, don't give her a single Geo. We're a hard lot down there."

...

Lemm rises from his seat and strokes down his beard, and goes to retrieve his things.

"Old, rare, and storied," she half-sings to herself. "Okay! I'll k-keep an eye out!"

The Knight flips their paper, scribbling large for Myla to see:
MILLIBELLE. THIEF!

Perhaps they should try warning her about Emilitia too, but that's far less important. She's rude, not a scammer. Maybe later, after all this is done. They'll play the tour guide, perhaps.

"A thief?! Don't worry, I won't!" Myla says, significantly more firm.

They watch him gather his things and think--should they help? No, he doesn't need their help. They just...should be doing something. They want to be doing--

Ah.

They hop down once he's done and trot to stand in front of him.

Lemm doesn't see the Knight's writing, busy sorting out his bag, but he hears Myla just fine. "Aye, exactly!"

He's - stalling, he realises. He doesn't need to sort his bag, he's just rearranging things. Frustrated with himself and fighting an unwelcome wave of reluctance, he rises and loops the strap down past his horns. He's got to go, anyway, the Knight's home is - is...

It's many things, but it's not familiar, and Lemm doesn't know how much longer he can weather the company no matter how pleasant it is.

He steels his resolve and turns around, clearly about to stride towards the door as he forms some semblance of a polite goodbye, but there is a Knight in front of him suddenly. He stalls, and waits to see what they want.

Myla watches the Knight's silhouette shift as they stick out their arms.

Farewell hug?

Ah. Lemm shifts a half-step back in his place, glancing around, settling on Myla, who is watching, kind of. Something in his chest feels like gravity has gone the wrong way.

He looks back to the Knight, and his hands cling tight to the strap of his bag as he processes.

Yes. Well. People do this, don't they, when they part. There's no harm in it. Lemm gingerly lowers into a kneel in front of them, and prises his hands away from his bag.

Lemm looked at Myla, and they know she won't care...but if it makes him uncomfortable, they should've waited until he'd gone outside. But they thought, too, it's not so strange a thing to do.

Before they can retract their query, he kneels, and they unhesitatingly wrap their little arms as far as they can reach.

Even if they don't let it linger for as long as they like.

"B-b-be seeing you! Don't let your pickclaw fall!" Myla pauses, realizing that was, perhaps, a little confusing to hear. "Um, that means d-don't give up, haha. Stay safe! I think that one works better."

Lemm is maybe a little slow on the uptake, even if he knew what was about to happen. But after a small delay his arms wrap tight around the Knight, and his head lowers a notch to tuck in beside theirs.

As always, they fit very well. He gives them a fleeting squeeze before he pulls back and eases himself back upright, looking at them candidly for a second. Myla's voice once more pulls him out of it.

And it's not unwelcome, he realises. The tendency to dwell too long in his own head is not trained for a bug who chirps in like she does. Lemm straightens, and with a gentle knock of the back of his finger joints against the Knight's horn he moves past them as if all this is normal, was normal, went normally.

His hand dips into the basket of pastries on the way past, and comes up with two. Like no one might notice.

Lemm pauses at the door, free hand about to push it open. He should say something. Back. And in general.

"Um -" oh, yes, very smooth "- keep thou as thine. No. Urgh, I can't -"

The door is pulled open to whistling Dirtmouth wind, and the Relic Seeker slips out, and the door is pulled closed again with some irritation. The lightest kind.

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