focusedvoid: (shade of you)
[personal profile] focusedvoid posting in [community profile] boxfullofzeroes








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.

Date: 2022-11-11 12:29 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (Default)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
There is something off, because he does not shoo them on their way as soon as it's clear they don't have anything to sell. It's not long before he pipes up regardless, though. As much as he claims otherwise, Lemm really is a chatter. It's just that usually bugs talk back and he doesn't like that so much.

"The old kingdom's finally dead for good, it seems," he remarks over the top of a piece of parchment. "No doubt some must be rejoicing somewhere, even if it's from beyond the grave. This place had more than a few sour relations, and it's been clinging on with an iron grip for a long time."

A short pause.

"I don't expect anything from you, lit- wanderer. But I'd like to know what you are before I get myself in any more trouble."

Date: 2022-11-11 01:41 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (will give geo for antiques)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
The one with its first layer revealed is still sitting in plain view - he's returned to it more than once, and it seems to have taken semi-permanent residence on the counter for now. Lemm seems to be keeping it in his sight for some reason rather than packing it away neatly.

"...If you insist." As if it took any convincing! He gestures to the egg as well. "Have at it. You'll be paid all the same no matter who you are. I'm telling you now I won't be strongarmed." Empty boasting. They could take the whole register and leave through the window and Lemm knows he'd be able to do nothing about it.

Lemm puts down the page he'd been studying and folds his hands together on the counter, just casually preparing to watch closely if they do in fact intend on taking another whack at it. He'll ask his questions in a minute when he's built the courage for it.

Date: 2022-11-11 02:33 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (take off the defender's crest)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
He watches so attentively in the mild hopes that whatever they're doing is something he can replicate, but Lemm isn't massively surprised to find he can't figure it out this time either. A bit disappointed maybe but not surprised. He's probably the first to see this done in several hundred years.

Lemm waits until there's room to do so without getting in their way, and then reaches out to trace careful fingertips over some of the more fractal-looking parts. He's delicate as ever, frowning at the thing as the logic of it runs out. Lemm reaches for a quill-

No, he'll start in a minute. He tears his eyes off the egg and skips the quill, opens the till instead and counts out another hundred Geo. He loosely rests his hand on top of it, first.

"Tell-"

So far their answers have been fairly limited in scope, and this is a rather broad thing to ask. But maybe he'll get something out of it, even if it's a slap on the wrist and the knowledge not to ask again. Lemm tilts his horn in the direction of the still-open till, implicit that this is another part of the deal. He did say he'd have questions.

"Tell me about you."
Edited Date: 2022-11-11 02:33 pm (UTC)

Date: 2022-11-11 03:24 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (Default)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Lemm is struggling with the long silence. He looks away for a while, takes his hand away from the Geo to scratch anxiously at his beard and then pushes up from his seat and thinks, I'll just go. I'll make them leave, then I'll go for a walk. No I won't. Coward. Sit back down.

"It's..." he tries, painfully aware of himself and that he is now standing up as if he has something important to say, which he does not. "I don't need all the answers. Just enough to know who I'm making deals with. That's all I want." No it's not, really.

He does not sit back down now that he's already standing, but he does pick up the Arcane Egg (carefully) and wander over to the window with it.

No, it's not all you want. Shouldn't have said anything. You've curbed them before they even started, if they'll start at all. Take it back.

"Hm. Forget that. What I mean is I'll take whatever you're willing to tell. If you're not willing, I won't be paying you extra, but I won't be pressing either..." Shut up! Stop it.

Lemm takes a deep, uneasy breath and stares out of the window and makes a herculean effort to stop running his mouth.

Date: 2022-11-11 04:55 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (don't touch the merchandise!)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Lemm feels like his hands are unsteady. He can't bring himself to put down the Arcane Egg, though; his fingers keep tracking over the details of it, familiarising himself with the thing though he can't translate much without sitting down and really focusing.

The noise shakes him out of his miserable overthinking and Lemm snaps around, half-expecting the huge shadow to be back and ready to give him a good telling-off for being so nosy. Instead it's... paper. Writing. He draws halfway closer and peers at it anxiously.

"...You..."

He's a quick reader. He looks up from the paper at the one who wrote it and shakes his head in disbelief. There is a moment where he looks like he might actually laugh, his expression stuck between shock and some complicated form of amusement.

"You secretive - urgh." He puts a hand to his forehead, trying to steady his last remaining nerve, and sets down the Arcane Egg on the counter before he gets giddy enough to drop it. "I didn't expect words from you after all this time! And you'd reveal this now? Pah! You really do get your kicks from shocking me!"

Lemm is speaking a little too fast. It's either excitement or anxiety. Hard to differentiate, currently.

"Fine! Yes. Fine. I'll take your name first, then. That's where we should start, isn't it? And then I'd like to know what in the name of reliquary pursuits is going on with... Ah. Actually."

Lemm waves away his other questions and, suddenly, remembers himself. His tone turns a little less frantic, and a little more serious.

"Actually I want to know this first. See I'd not be surprised or offended to hear I've made deals with bugs who wished I'd drop dead. But I suspect it'd be quite trivial for you to make it happen, so before we do any more business, I'd like to know my chances." What a way to put it.

Date: 2022-11-11 09:14 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (this isn't a museum)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
He'll be looming near enough the page to watch them write, following along from his upside-down perspective fairly well apart from when they go back and and make edits. It all gets a proper look over when they're done, anyway.

He shrinks back out of their airspace once he's done reading, hands perched on the edge of the counter as he thinks a few things over.

"Seems I've a lot to consider. Apology accepted, Knight," he begins, and doesn't offer one in return. "You've a lot of the littler ones with you, then. Thought I was being peeped at." ...He briefly mulls over the nickname that seems to have stuck. Something about this makes him feel all rot-warm on the inside, like decaying plants. Absolutely wrong. "Too bad. I run a shop, not a creche. Mind they're polite."

Relic Seeker Lemm slides the paper a bit closer towards himself and studies it some more, with the same slow patience as when he's interpreting languages that died with their speakers. He is trying to navigate the conversation properly now that it isn't so one-sided, and apparently he's finding it difficult, because he's already read the text three times and still he's hard-pushed to uphold his end.

"For the record, as you put it, I don't particularly want you dead either, not that I reckon I could manage it," is what he settles on. "You've been a reliable seller, and now I find you have ties to this place you're a veritable relic, yourself. You'll have no more trouble from me in any case." His voice keeps going of its own accord, though he wishes it wouldn't as soon as the words are out, even though they ought to be totally innocuous. "Hard to find research partners, you see."

Date: 2022-11-11 10:17 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (Default)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
As he's not ungrateful that they keep coming back, though you wouldn't think it by the way he talks.

Lemm bows his head just slightly. It's the most polite he'll ever be. He slides the paper back into the middle and taps it with two fingers with an air of finality.

"Where to start, then..." he muses, glad to steer things back to the topic of scholarly interest. "What you are, I think. Void-selves, working interpretation of a collective noun, Pre-Hallownest arcane dialect... You're certainly not a bug. I've an important bridge to build with that."

Date: 2022-11-11 11:27 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (...)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Yes, yes, he's paying attention, he doesn't skip words, he's a Relic Seeker! Lemm gives a yep got it keep going sort of grunt and, once again, peers over to read as they write.

Ah. Yes. Ask the reclusive intellectual who loves the sound of his own voice to talk about what he knows, why don't you. He whisks another quill out of a drawer and uses the nib to do all the pointing, for better accuracy and to avoid smudging their ink.

First, at Void. "Very little. I didn't have a name for it until now - some things don't translate easily, but I like that term. The old places paid their respects to it, though. Nearly everything I know you've delivered to me in cryptic little spheres." A gesture at the partly-opened Arcane Egg. "You're something of it, yourself. Light falls into you like junk into the Waterways, don't think I haven't noticed."

The Pale King, then. He errs over this one for a long second. "We have to look at history through a difficult lens. I didn't live in Hallownest back then, so I can't have a proper grasp of the climate." He pauses to think again. How best to explain? Well, it's Lemm, so bluntly. "He's not around to have my head, so as a modern bug I can say I find his decisions questionable! He's behind the burying of much of the history here, and mark my words, no one buries the prettier bits. Maybe it'll be my luck to find out what the old monarch was hiding if I keep digging." He shakes his head quickly. "I wouldn't put that in an essay, though. Sounds bigheaded."

He squints at the page for a while. Infection, yes. The rest...

"There's... accounts," Lemm tells them, stiltedly. This he's not sure on. "Not many. Far as I know, Moth history leans towards word-of-mouth, which doesn't do a Relic Seeker any favours. I've... heard... that they worked with dreams. The plague addled the mind, and some likened that to dreaming." He twiddles the quill for a bit. His voice is a fraction hushed. "I thought I felt it once or twice. But we don't entertain subjectivity in this business. Spooked myself, more likely."

Date: 2022-11-12 01:00 am (UTC)
capitalcurator: (take off the defender's crest)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
He would have theorised, too. Good aim.

As it stands he takes the hint and just does a lot of hovering as they write, and for a while after. Most of this information was lost to this age, and the context he lacks is... vast, but also more and more ominously pressing in the more they tell him. He's a little crowded by the things he doesn't know. It's an intense feeling. Some might find it overwhelming.

It is exactly why Relic Seeker Lemm was drawn to Hallownest. He considers the bulk of it and runs a hand through his beard. The other rests itself thoughtfully on the till, thumb brushing the buttons while he works through the information.

His finger strays towards Radiance, light, higher being and tracks slowly down to Infection. Void and empty and hollow and whatever else are all the kinds of things different historical dialects might interpret the same, and a casual reader might read the same at first glance, but he is not a casual reader. Lemm's finger strays to the word 'vessel' next as he works with that one for a bit. Still could be more of the same. Then he stops, falters, and his finger goes to follow offspring and eggs instead. He thinks a bit longer.

"Not sure what to do with this bit," he remarks offhandedly, an icewater feeling seeping into him for no reason at all. "No record mentions the King starting a family."

Date: 2022-11-12 09:28 am (UTC)
capitalcurator: (don't touch the merchandise!)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Some selfish, rotten little part of Relic Seeker Lemm wishes he'd been drawn to a different vocation. There is a rising horror in him, and it builds the more he tries to interpret this any other way. There must be a different way to read it, some grammatical issue, misunderstood synonym. This can't really mean...

Lemm takes up the paper and returns to the window to re-read it a few times. His eyes flick down to the statue in the square. His hands are shaking a little. Easy, now, he thinks, though it doesn't help at all. A historian is supposed to be cold to history, remain objective, keep everything below his scorn. But a living piece of it is resting on his counter. Lemm reads the Knight's words again. And again.

"In the Black Vault far above," he murmurs. "Through its sacrifice-"

The hand holding the paper drops to his side; the other puts itself to his forehead.

Distantly: "Little wanderer... Who else knows?"

Date: 2022-11-12 10:32 am (UTC)
capitalcurator: (take off the defender's crest)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Lemm stares out of the window a little longer. He needs the... the time, or the space, to give himself a pep talk. This is your job, Relic Seeker. This is the kind of information you've been hunting for, isn't it?

He returns to the counter after a few moments and slides back into his seat. He doesn't feel well; his legs are feeling a little weak to keep standing around. Lemm's elbows come to rest on the counter and his hands cup his face, tunnel-visioning the paper as he watches them write.

The White Lady, he notes. Bound. That's very specific. The mother may still live. Information for later. All of it is information for later. The Great Knights didn't know. Even they didn't know.

Lemm takes a noticeably shaky breath and keeps his hands where they are so he doesn't have to see the Knight's face just yet. He'll talk to the ink instead.

"I want you to know I feel the weight of this, Knight." It's so hard to say the right thing, and harder still to keep his voice steady. Lemm will not go to pieces here, now, over his job. But. "As I suspect you do. You can... finish, for now."

Date: 2022-11-12 04:51 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (...)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Still tunnel-visioning the paper, Lemm just nods slightly, only even noticeable because his horns dip. Hard to do much else without giving himself away. He's still riding the unpleasant lurch of realising exactly what was done, though he's fighting hard to keep all of that to himself. Wouldn't do to make this about him.

His hands drop and he jerks his head up just in time to see the back of them vanishing out of the door. Something tightens worse in his stomach.

"I'll hear you!" he answers just in time. "Go, but don't disappear on me. I'll hear everything yet."

Lemm rests his head miserably on one hand, toying with the edges of the notes they've written as he rereads them ad nauseam. He's involved, whether he likes it or not. History is so much more frightening this way.

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