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 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.

Date: 2022-11-12 05:56 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (Default)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Relic Seeker Lemm has always been full of questions, but he's always been steadfast in the belief that directing those questions inward is a quick path to decay. He's been wrestling lately with a particularly difficult one, though, because he's come to realise he's got to examine himself before a certain... family does it for him.

So. Coward that he is, he has to ask the question: Does he make his exit however he can, and disentangle himself from the Knight and their siblings? He has to ask. Relic Seeker Lemm is not the family-and-friends type. He'll mess it up. He will mess it up. He's as convinced of this as he is that silk parchment and water should never be introduced to each other.

The answer comes... easily. It's a relief that it does.

The shop is a little different when the Knight enters next. It's been tidied, for one, though it seems unlikely to stay that way. A lot of the less relevant relics (and... curiously, any with sharp edges) have been sorted through and moved who-knows-where to make space, and that space is already beginning to clutter anew as more specific things are brought out for reference.

Lemm stands in front of the window, staring out with his arms folded.

"Don't step on anything," he sternly warns without turning around. "And don't get comfortable. I've an errand that needs running."
capitalcurator: (this isn't a museum)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
If they did, or if they passed through it, they'd see the square empty of the Soul Sanctum's broken glass and other things. Nasty business, sweeping rubbish into the Waterways, but it didn't take long. Nothing a void full of children should bother themselves with.

Relic Seeker Lemm seems acerbic as ever. The break apparently let him pull himself together as well.

"I'm down to my last quill, and I'm running out of things to write on. If I'm to tackle this properly I'll need more of both. I won't be finding anything usable down here." He glances down at the Knight, not that he expects to be able to read their mask any better than usual. "Last I was there, that dingy little town up above had little to speak of but a map shop. Lucky for me cartography uses the same tools."

It would take him no time at all to make the trip himself. It does not look like Lemm's packing a bag, though. He seems a little tense.
Edited Date: 2022-11-12 06:42 pm (UTC)

Date: 2022-11-13 09:46 am (UTC)
capitalcurator: (Default)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
A nod. And he's seen the other pins the last time he looked. It likely means there are more bugs in Dirtmouth these days. Lemm looks away and begins arranging his notes back and forth.

"That's the place. Although as long as I can keep writing I don't care where or how you get it. I'll give you back the Geo." And, just because: "I'd like one of those maps, too. I know the City well enough, but there are... expeditions I've been considering lately a bit further afield."

Date: 2022-11-13 11:15 am (UTC)
capitalcurator: (Default)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Lemm strokes his beard and thinks for a second.

"All of it," he decides. "There are a few places I won't be going, of course, but that's the point. And if you- never mind."

A very minor pause. Lemm returns to his desk, stepping around and over the mess on the floor.

"Be useful know who's up there as well," he gruffly tacks on just when it seems he's done.

Date: 2022-11-13 11:49 am (UTC)
capitalcurator: (take off the defender's crest)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Lemm considers that first bit. It's not that he wants to give them more work to do than necessary, not when his instinct is to pay them for it. Then again it's their knowledge of Hallownest he'll be relying on most heavily.

He settles on a maybe: "I was going to borrow yours again and do it myself, but you'd be more familiar... I don't want you cluttering it with notes about things I won't find relevant, though. If you want that job, wait until you get back."

The next question gives him a lot more pause. He actually looks away for a second, fingers tapping on the counter while he struggles with admitting this is personal curiosity and not just taking stock of a possible supply run.

"...Whoever," he says unhelpfully, like he regrets asking in the first place. "And buy extra paper for yourself, while you're at it. Can't have you running out when you have something to say."

Date: 2022-11-13 12:50 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (you break it you bought it)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
He's really got a habit of reading-while-they-write, in the same way someone does if they've never been told not to hover. (Maybe he has, and just paid no notice. Equally likely.)

"I know about him," he says, pointing at 'Elderbug'. "No adventurous spirit, that one-" backtracks one line, hands fly to his hips "- what do you mean rips off worse than me! You ungrateful little grub, Geo doesn't grow on trees! You've a fine mouth on you indeed, now that you're talkative!"

Urgh. And he's enabling them with the paper thing. Might as well have painted 'open season' on his own shell.

"...I'll have you back for that one, mark my words," he mutters poisonously, but he's already moving on. "Ah, now, that is a surprise. I'd not bothered with the Stagways on account of thinking they'd be empty by now. Even walked one or two myself! That does change things. I won't be walking on the roads if there's still a Stag hurtling about." Doesn't change things enough to go and run his own errands, though. He follows the rest of the writing and sits back a little.

"Sounds like it's gotten busy up there. This Zote fellow sounds unpleasant." He tries to make it sound innocuous: "No one else?"

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