the knight (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
focusedvoid) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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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His hand slides up their claw behind him and he pushes himself slowly upright. He tests how the platform of their hand feels under his feet - still not good, but manageable when they're keeping fairly still.
Now that he's standing though he can make out the details he needs. There's a closeness to the towers here that turns this part of the city into somewhat of a near-opaque tangle - no wonder they couldn't get their bearings. But he's been here, or nearby. At least one of the buildings nearby he's pretty sure he's been in to the ground floor.
Lemm's head turns to point directly north, with little ceremony or forethought. There's a tower in the way.
"That way," he declares, and points past it down a turn-off with one shaky hand before it snaps safely back against their claw. "And then a right."
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They return their claws to position around him. They'll wait until he settles to keep moving.
There are a pair of eyes peering at Lemm from their palm.
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...He's fine. If he just stays down and keeps breathing steady maybe he can adjust, even! Maybe. Not now though. They might feel a slight tremor now and then in the way he's bracing himself this time, though Lemm does his best to keep it to a minimum.
Still, at least if he keeps his wits about him maybe he'll have some more warning about which direction they're going to move next, so Lemm forces himself to look.
There is someone looking back.
Relic Seeker Lemm stares, kind of intense without meaning to be, and unable to formulate any kind of more acceptable response. He is under a lot of stress!
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The Knight is moving at a glacial pace, trying to make sure they're going the right way and keep an eye on the little Shades about at once. They shouldn't bother Lemm right now. He's dealing with enough.
This goes entirely ignored.
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He's dimly wondered how much the little Siblings might be aware of when they're part of the whole - either way, even if they've seen him before, this one is a stranger to Lemm and he wishes their introduction wasn't happening now.
Neither of them should see him like this.
Subtly, Lemm straightens up.
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Suspicious Sibling mimics Lemm a little. Since they're already resting all sprawled out, it just looks like the Lord of Shades hit a bump nobody else noticed.
The Lord of Shades shifts around the tower and...goes right? Is this when they should go right? Perhaps they should just--go...diagonally. North and east. They'll reach the Royal Quarter that way, they believe?
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He steels his nerve, forces a hand up for a half-wave in greeting to them both as though nothing is wrong whatsoever, and manages to look at least somewhat stoic.
...Are they improvising on his directions? Ugh, he'll correct them when he finds his voice again.
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It hits the full void form of the palm they're sitting on when they're done. They startle and look down before doing it again. Palm-smack. It doesn't make a sound, but it feels different than bumping the windy form of another Shade-Sibling or the liquid of Void in their shared dream-self.
Smack. Smack. Smack. (At least they're not staring at Lemm this way.)
The City is huge, but so is the Lord of Shades. They still travel a good distance taking the slow-steady pace. Darkness looms ahead of them--not a tower, but the wall to Kingdom's Edge.
Relieved, they alter course to follow it until the Watcher's Spire appears to their left. They know the border, they know their way, they know this.
Even with Lemm afraid in their careful hold, they remember what he's said before, and think sardonically: thank the Shadelord for the walls--
--and their form slams to a halt, as though they've hit one midair.
They're aware. They don't know the streets, but now, they know exactly where the borders of the City of Tears, every bit of length, chinks and routes in and out.
They shudder and drift lower, aiming for the Spire, and then, the Square.
It's been a long while since they last felt relief seeing their tallest Sibling's memorial.
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He is so addled by everything going on at once it's hard to be completely focused on the fear, even - at least until the sudden stop, which takes him by surprise enough for a full body quake to rattle through him.
(He catches the noise he might have made at the shock, even so, because the Siblings are here.)
Deep breath. It'll be done soon. He thinks they might be close?
The Lord of Shades has yet to drop him, and it makes it easier to believe they won't. It's just time. He needs time...
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The Lord of Shades settles down until their hands are a hop's height from the ground.
(Not-So-)Suspicious Sibling looks up when they gently open their claws. They're being nice, Lemm saw them. They flop-wave.
The Knight is more concerned about Lemm directly. Greenhorn lets go and drifts around him, examining. Is he okay?
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As he moves a noticeably-shaky hand goes in to lightly pat Greenhorn, some part of him still half-expecting his hand to go through, for once too flooded with other concerns to worry about impulse control.
Perhaps most tellingly of all Lemm crouches to gingerly foot-test his way off their hand, refamiliarising himself with the solid stone floor as if the drop is far more than it really is.
Eventually though he's on solid ground again and with a measured, rattling sigh he turns to check on the Lord of Shades, as a whole.
"...'M fine," he says, first, because there is absolutely not a chance they didn't feel all that.
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The Lord of Shades keeps that hand's claws sticking out for something to grab, should he need it. Or want it. Other claws delicately trace across the ground.
MY
APOLOGIES.
FORGOT
GETTING
LOST
EASILY.
The hat rack is deposited by Lemm's building, and their head settles to nearly pressing against the ground. He says fine, but they can't help concern and swirling doubt.
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They get a quick, uncharacteristic head-shake and some mild noise in the negative to dismiss the apology as unneeded.
...
He rallies, a moment later, and walks that timidness back a little bit with a sharp sigh.
"Had to drag me all over Hallownest, didn't you? Surprised we didn't end up at Queen's Gardens."
It's not quite as acerbic as his usual self but it's something. He's better already for being on the floor.
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BEST
PEST,
NOT
GUIDE.
There, teasing a little. Though they bump his side with the edge of their shortest claw.
ALRIGHT?
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"Nuisance."
He actively braces for the nudge by widening his stance just a notch. He's not steady, yet, even for something so light. A hand comes to rest on their claw either in acknowledgement or warning.
"Aye." Mostly? He sighs, glances over at Greenhorn not so subtly, then fixes the Shadelord with a candid little tense look. "I like solid ground, that's all."
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Their head tilts, peering between Greenhorn and Lemm, uncomprehending what that look meant. The former drifts up to nudge the sign into swinging, sweeping backward in alarm when the metal squeaks.
APOLOGIES
STILL.
NO
MORE
OF
THAT.
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This was what he'd been afraid of - well, not as much as being carried, but it was something he'd been dreading.
Another quick glance at Greenhorn to check they're distracted - yes - and a once-over sweep to check for any other curious eyes, not that he expects to have any real grasp on whether the others are listening or not. And then he awkwardly, reluctantly stage-whispers:
"I'll get over it! It wasn't you."
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Lemm sounds insistent, but they aren't sure. He was uncomfortable. He was afraid. And that wasn't unreasonable, even if they hadn't accidentally prolonged the experience.
Slowly, they trace:
IS
NOT
NECESSARY.
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"Oh, pah. Please! I've spent too much time in a city of husks not to get over a silly thing like - like - "
- Handwave, handwave. He haughtily sticks one hand on his side and gives an annoyed hum at not being able to find the words.
"Don't swear it off, will you!"
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IS
NOT
NECESSARY.
Again.
BUT
CAN
TRY
LATER.
AFTER
THINKING
ABOUT
IT.
BOTH
THINKING
ABOUT
IT.
They continue to be skeptical. Truly, both of them should think about it more, when the experience can be considered in hindsight, and there's no wanting to wave off each other's worries.
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And at the end he moves a step like he's about to start pacing - but it goes nowhere. He's still feeling pretty shaken up and he doesn't trust his legs - they're right. They are right. He's being stubborn and impulsive. Lemm promised he'd be careful, as well, and he guesses this counts. If it must.
With some measure of self-control, the hackles go down.
"...Yes," he says, after a bit. He breaks off from looking at them, opting to stare at the wet ground between them instead. A little more softly, this time - but somehow also more meant: "Really nothing to do with you." A pause, one of his more awkward ones, and then he gets even quieter. "...Thanks for the lift."
Right. Yes.
Lemm turns abruptly. "Aye! Greenhorn!"
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For the thanks. If they'd pushed--
He's not made of glass. He's made it through. Shaky, but intact. They should follow their own words about thinking after.
They keep their claws waiting nearby.
Above, Greenhorn's rotated to stare hard at the side of their tallest Sibling's carved head. Lemm calling startles them into a sharp jolt, which they turn into flipping upside-down and darting downward. Hi! Yes?
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The conversation he wants to have is short, and only under the pretense of being candid.
"Here you are. I've a job for you." Lemm crosses his arms imperiously, ticks his horn to the side, and jabs a thumb back at the Shadelord. "I want you to keep this one on the straight and narrow on the way to getting this mask mended. Your Knight's prone to getting inconveniently lost."
He is completely audible to the Lord of Shades from where he's standing. This is deliberate, judging by the sarcastic tone he just aimed partly over his shoulder.
"If you catch them getting distracted on the way there I want you to make a fuss. Whack 'em with their map if you have to. This mask thing's important, d'you hear? Can you do it?"
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Greenhorn freezes. He wants them to--they can do that? Can they do that? They stare at his face and look up into the Shadelord's, who lifts a spare hand to cover half their eyes in exasperation. (Another mannerism mimicked from bugs that the Knight could never do.)
Yes...yes, they can do that is reassured, with significantly more amusement than annoyance coming along.
Greenhorn drifts closer to Lemm and nods gravely. They don't know why it's so important to him, but it is, so they will!
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He keeps up the serious pretense for Greenhorn and nods back, once.
"Aye. Your - the other one can help, if they've the mind to, but you're in charge of the operation, hm?" He's just met another, he's hardly going to leave them out now.
Lemm sticks out his hand.
"We're agreed then, you and I."
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