voicetest the voiceless

[focusedvoid]

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.

Comments

[focusedvoid]

They sat to rest against Quirrel and Bretta. They'd exchanged Geo and product, brushing shell. Lemm stood over their shoulder. They used their paws to concentrate on their tallest sibling's shell, to Focus for someone else.

The Siblings are there. The Siblings are always there. But there's something to be said about a solid touch.

They hold Lemm's fingers, shivering too imperceptibly to see while impossible not to feel. He starts to walk with words that sound distantly reasonable, and they come along.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm keeps leading. He keeps his pace slow; their legs are shorter than his. Their grip is so tight.

Keep talking. Don't think about it.

"It's not every day a Relic Seeker admits someone else is more knowledgeable. We're a prideful lot," he continues, passing out of the small forest of cast-aside Nails. "But that's a poor excuse. Sometimes a bug's just sour."

There are canals here and there, and Lemm's jumped these before, but right now he skirts along until the footbridges and walks them both the slow way.

"All that behind your mask, and a sour old bug needling you like I did..." He glances down to keep an eye on them, not that he expects to glean much from a visual inspection. "...No, we'll get you out of the rain, first." It's not far to the elevator, or to his shop.

[focusedvoid]

For something that contains the whole of the Void, the Knight doesn't have much weight to them.

The farther the walk, the further they settle. Shame rises in a prickly wave, quick to settle. It isn't the important part of this. They don't need it.

They're tired.

One of their miniscule claws taps clumsily against his, an agreement and hint of reproach. They don't need to express more. Lemm nearly collapsing in the Lord of Shades literal shadow--and this--is more than enough to judge his sincerity.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm's free hand comes up and instinctively closes over the top of their claw, holding it lightly against his other hand and reassuring them he got the gesture. His thumb smooths over the top as they walk - some loose attempt at letting them know he doesn't expect them to try any harder than that. That's enough.

He guides them onto the lift. Walks them both slowly along and through the door.

Lemm halts just inside the shop, and he very tentatively attempts to pull his hand loose.

"Stay a minute."

[focusedvoid]

The Knight justifies allowing it as the same as avoiding the Void-pull.

They aren't about to leave after this, unless they absolutely need to. They take a half-step in to go back to the counter as before, and instead end up paused, looking over the mess they made.

At least they hadn't broken his window or the walls.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm makes an awkward little bob gesture with both hands to imply they should stay, please, and he'll be back. He retreats into a corner of the shop, stepping over strewn objects and between flurried papers to rummage around in a side room.

He returns quickly enough carrying a traveller's cloak, one with fur hem that smells of damp, and goes down on one knee to drape it around the Knight's shoulders.

He has not so much as looked at the mess since they both walked through the door. There is a more important priority than his collection.

Lemm does hesitate. But gingerly he follows the fabric until he can gather enough in his hands, and he starts to gently fluff the rain away, horns first.

[focusedvoid]

They're stock-still, watching him ignore the mess completely to...dry them off? Why?

After he pats down around half their face they pull back, something uncomfortable squeezing in their chest. They duck away and pluck a bit of the mess to drop on the counter, and then grab an actual paper, unmarked. The movement could be read as frantic to someone used to their usual gestures.

I promised I wouldn't do an hurt you and I will keep to it no matter how upset I am. You don't need to do this.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm stops quick. He wasn't expecting them to want him to do this and he was ready for this so yes, his hands are drawn back to himself, cloak folded over his arm, and he hurries to lean over what they've written and parse it fast (they're going to tell him they're leaving, that's the inevitability here) but it-

It isn't that. He fidgets with the fabric, drying his fingers.

"You already told me that. It's in the records." The evidence of this is... somewhere on the floor, probably. He doesn't look for it. "You're wet," he informs them.

He makes no move to take the cloak from where it's folded over his arm, or to invite them closer, or to... anything. Lemm just goes down on a knee, and pats the cloak implicitly.

[focusedvoid]

The hand with the paper drops down to their side.

The Knight thinks about underlining the words again. You don't need to do this.

And they think about him after informing him of their surviving sibling, a little while ago that seems more like years. "You didn't have to tell me a thing."

Their steps are slow. The whole time, they're observing Lemm carefully. Looking to see if he's hiding fear. Waiting for him to snap to his senses.

They come back.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm is stiff. But.

"Aye, aye," he scolds gently. "Dripping all over my shop." It is the softest his voice has ever been.

They're enveloped in the fabric of the old coat, and very carefully Lemm ruffles them dry.

"You be upset."

[focusedvoid]

They try to offer a dismissive shrug. Wrapped in the cloak, the movement doesn't indicate much past a twitch.

They are upset, still. They'd just rather avoid feeding it into overflowing again.

They let the fabric's movement calm them further. They learned long ago how their dark shell holds onto the temperature around it. It doesn't impact them much, only severe heat and chill enough to potentially cause problems.

With Lemm doing this, they're warming when they often wouldn't. It's not needed. It is, perhaps, all the nicer for it.

[capitalcurator]

He's careful. Mostly it's just loose dabbing with fabric, a little ruffling here and there. He's anything but rough.

Lemm doesn't... know where the cloak ends and the shade begins, really. So he quits a bit short, and goes back up to scrunch the fluff of the hem around their face (mask), making sure it's dry even though he knows it. And then tucks it neatly over their horns and around their face, like a hood.

They are draped in an old cloak, something that smells stale like it was rescued from a mouldering place and never quite dried properly. It is the best he's got. It is heinously not enough. Lemm draws back and observes this with some embarrassment.

He brought them back with the idea of doing work, marking his map, all that.

"Maybe you'd like a break."

[focusedvoid]

Compared to other things they've been covered in (perhaps later he'll remember the eventful time they wandered in with the Defender's Crest), this is perfectly suitable. More than.

The idea of further direct communication of writing type is...too much. The urge to continue is stabbed in its core. They don't have to. Lemm shouldn't be going anywhere yet. There's still time. There is.

But then they turn and wander back to the shop's debris, taking care not to catch the dragging end of the cloak over anything too roughly. They can't stand just leaving it all after this.

[capitalcurator]

He'd insult them usually. It'd be too easy to pretend it's fine now. Friendly jabs. ...Lemm does not have any friends. His head still hurts.

"No," he murmurs, trailing to them and placing a hand on their shoulder. Tidying this would be a penance and he doesn't... want that. "No. I've a better job for you. More important."

He reaches, then hovers. He'd like to pick them up. "Very important." Lemm is counting on them being tired enough. Maybe not.

[focusedvoid]

The Knight tips their lolling head up to him from beneath their makeshift hood. Many bugs would be unsettled by the movement. How the shadow of the fabric only emphasizes how deep the black of their mask's holes are.

They're not moving at all quickly. Still they can do something small as this. Lemm himself suggested a break, in his Lemm-like way. What does he need...?

[capitalcurator]

It'd be unsettling. Lemm already knows what they are, though, has seen them drape across bigger places than his shop like curtains. He has made the connection and he knows he is talking to Void. He will always be talking to something stranger than a bug.

At the strange acknowledgement, Lemm reaches out the rest of the way and before he can think too hard he takes up the Knight, and for a second he's halfway through the motion and not sure how one is supposed to-

They fit just fine tucked against his shoulder. Lemm's resolve cracks.

"I'll put you down," he says quickly, to try to avoid a panic, and shifts them to one arm, and carries them swiftly into a back room he normally keeps closed.

[focusedvoid]

They go stiff for one distinct moment, frozen as something dead.

But Lemm's not a threat. Even exhausted, they know this. Rather than going for their Nail, which they'd have to shred the cloak for to reach anyway, they loosen up to grab his arm with one of theirs. It's more stable with how jolting Lemm's movements abruptly are.

A cloth-covered horn might dig into his beard as they look around to wherever he's bringing them. They hadn't given this door much attention prior.

[capitalcurator]

It's a cluttered back room, even more than the main one because he cares even less that anyone will see it. There are things piled up - more useful things than relics but still just as dusty and damp and battered - utensils, shelves of jars of things, tools and bags and all the clutter that doesn't go in a collection, a broom, a crowbar. He's careful as he takes long steps over and among it all. His hand comes to hold them a little closer, just in case he trips.

(They're holding onto him like that. He can't do much else than try to be reassuring.)

The Knight is brought right to the back, behind a heavy curtain that doesn't belong there. It sections off an even smaller area where there is a modest grouping of stolen pillows and not much else. His day-to-day life is in his shop. The rest is not much lived in other than to keep things and sleep.

With his foot he carefully nudges aside a glass lumafly bulb and a stone journal. He is going to put them down, and he will, he just-

- He does, quick enough, like he said, he's put them down. The Knight is deposited in a comfortable-enough seat against the pillows, and Lemm draws back, steps back, puts a bit of space between them.

"You'll stay a bit," he tries, unsure. It's not exactly a command, and not exactly a question.

[focusedvoid]

That behind the shop is worse than the shop wouldn't have been a surprise if they'd speculated earlier. They absorb at it all with mild bemusement.

Considering him scavenger once had been mean as insult he'd never hear. Now, as they struggle for a few fuzzy moments to figure out what the crowbar was, they think...not so cruelly, that might've been right.

They suppose they will be staying there. They have no rush to be anywhere. They don't want to be elsewhere, or they know a part of them would continue to itch about whether or not Lemm decided to go break his word. Throw himself into pointless danger.

He wouldn't. He wouldn't have so easily before this, they know, they know. Unfortunately, the switch has been struck. They care for Lemm, they're sharply aware, and they can't pack it away just like that. It would be worse than the swirling misery that followed them for so long after Myla stopped singing. They hadn't shared anything with her but a few moments of friendly company.

This is for the Knight to deal with later.

They don't think they'll sleep. They shop's been through enough. They will rest, though. This is more comfortable than a bench. This...

...bed? It must be Lemm's bed.

He seems the type to be overly concerned about sharing that type of thing. (In the Wastelands, in the rare times they travelled with caravans, that sort of shame was quickly lost.)

They pick up the nearest pillow that seems extra soft and hold it out.

[capitalcurator]

He lured them with chatter, and decorated it with the idea they'd have a job to do. But this really was his end goal. Even if - if it'll be here.

Lemm gently puts his hand on the pillow they offer and pushes it down.

"I'll be... working."

He never stayed long enough to see if there was damage to the places left after they spilled into Void. He is coming to understand it is probably not voluntary. The shop is small but the door does shut, but... but. Who knows how that works. And there's no point, anyway. And. They look so tired.

Lemm rises properly, dusts himself off, and makes an executive decision.

"I won't close the door. Don't know how much space you need. Don't jab yourself on my things."

He turns to leave...

"Ah," he catches himself. "I'll be in the shop."

And he steps out.

[focusedvoid]

The Knight does not sleep.

They do rest. They rest a good while, trying to listen for Lemm cleaning up the shop, thinking between moments of drowsing.

To-do list, first. Intentionally unrelated to Lemm. Visit the Resting Grounds and its spirits. They'll need to brace for more odd survivors. And they've got extra Essence that Seer might want to see.

Grimmchild...Grimm. The fact he hasn't hunted them down is a genuine surprise. They briefly pull out their charm and consider putting it on, but there are enough flammable objects close together to make them doubt it. Take Grimmchild out somewhere for kindness' sake.

Let Greenhorn visit Lemm, with permission. Let Greenhorn poke around this backroom living area, for which they likely will not get permission.

Check the Archives. Visit their tallest sibling and the rest of Deepnest. Visit the Mantis Village? And the Queen's Gardens. They should know if the White Lady knows of the Infection's disappearance or whether her strange hints about knowing further than her containment was falsehood.

...They keep stirring to find they're patting the cloak's edge.

It isn't anything special in make. It was a gift. Or perhaps something to borrow. In either case, rougher than anything Deepnest had in their times there, and yet still given to them directly. Other than a lightly disparaging comment Herrah made about them and their tall sibling needing something in the future, there hadn't been a genuine offer, temporary or not.

The Knight's head sinks deeper into the collar-hood.

Lemm...is capable.

Hallownest is still painfully dangerous.

Eventually, they straighten up, unfurl the map and start tracing their claws over the most threatening places.

[capitalcurator]

He disappears out into the shop, and as soon as he's out of view Lemm touches experimentally at the base of his horn and winces. No lasting damage, he thinks, but the damn journal hit him like a big stupid tuning fork and he thinks, he thinks he'll blame a concussion for the crawling in his chest and the silly things he's done and the way, even now, he can still see the quill dragging ink off the page and feels like he's still holding someone very small -

- Lemm leans heavily on his desk and closes his eyes, rubbing at his forehead with the heel of his hand. His head is swimming with too much thought and his eyes are stinging. There, see. This is what happens when you start examining yourself. You don't like it.

He takes a shaky breath, and he sighs, and he tidies up. It's slow going on purpose, something to do to keep his hands busy while he tidies his head as well. Notes are plucked up off the floor and re-sorted before they can get trodden on. Relics are examined and returned to their place.

The nasty way he acted and the things he said before the Lord of Shades rocketed away from him is dragged right to the front and examined, despite a good part of him trying to mentally argue himself out of it and insisting it'll make him feel terrible for no good reason.

Under his seat he finds the Arcane Egg. It hit the floor a bit too hard. Some of the fragile petals are chipped. He stares at it in his hand for a bit.

Lemm knows he is going to have to be better. A very daunting prospect indeed, as is the looming threat of further conversation. He doesn't normally deal with the actual consequences of being a cantankerous old fool. But this was very close to a disaster he is not prepared to repeat. A... risk he does not want to take.

When the shop is, if not tidy, then its mess is back in a more familiar shape, Lemm squares off a corner of his desk for his map, a spare quill, and some empty pages. He tucks the Knight's last written note into a drawer and out of the way, next to the confidential ones from earlier. Then he gets back to work, head resting lightly on one hand as he writes.

He really, really wants to check on the Knight. He does not.

[focusedvoid]

Hallownest is dangerous, even while they might not need to consider threats like Aspids anymore (and, truthfully, they're not sure if all of them are gone). Those are a lower number compared to the nastier areas--they'd been primarily focused on spikes, all those corpses laid out and plain to see. Acid is more plentiful in other places. And worse. The Fools threw their slain down into it for a reason. Even the thickest shells and armor would disappear.

The selfish, dark urge to keep Lemm back keeps crawling to the forefront; the Knight continues to push it back. That would be cruel. Unfair. They promised they wouldn't hurt him. That would, no matter how kind their intentions.

They come to a conclusion. An idea. He may not like it. Probably won't. It's the best they can offer.

They write out a note and slide out to the front of the shop.

Their initial attempt at stealth is stymied when the cloak they wear catches on quite a few objects he has stored in the back.

[capitalcurator]

He looks up with a jerk as he hears the rustling. They take a little longer to emerge than he was expecting, though, and the tension of it is somewhat dulled. By the time they reach the desk he's a bit more prepared.

"Still wearing that old thing..." he observes, his voice almost as quiet as it was earlier. He is testing the waters. They may be about to tear into him.

He can see they're carrying a note, anyway, so Lemm braces himself. When they're close enough he instinctively leans an inch closer to read it.

[focusedvoid]

They haven't found a need to take it off yet. They'll wait until--...whenever it feels right. Or he asks directly.

The paper is set on the counter, before the discomfort under their shell can get them to stop.

I see you've made it this far. That is a fact worthy of pride.

Hallownest is a place that does not discriminate in who it kills and when. I don't want you to be one of them. (They don't actually remember their final furious note related to that. It was written under severe stress, after all, and they'd expect it would've been destroyed somewhere on the way if they did.) I am not perfect. I have failed many times in my own travels. Still, I believe I'm more qualified than nearly anyone, and the most willing.
I can act as guide and guard.
No Geo necessary.

They do not move as Lemm reads it. If their claws dig into the inner fabric, well. That won't be discovered until later.