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 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.

[capitalcurator]

He scritches his beard idly as he reads, and it takes him longer than usual to finish. (He reads it twice, and carefully.)

Normally his response would be tailored clean of anything meaningful and appropriately dipped in acid, because that's how he's always done it. But Lemm has done a lot of thinking today.

"I didn't expect another chance, Knight. I'd say it's unwise of you but I'm the one who asked for it. And I still want it, that's still... still true."

He folds his arms on the desk, watching them with an air of extreme discomfort.

"Before I say anything else about this I should say I'm sorry, first. Erm..." He doesn't want to sit there squirming while he waits for them to acknowledge, and he does very much want to give them a proper response to what they've offered. But this, first. First. It's important. "I'm sorry, and I want you to hear me say it. I don't say it often, and I haven't meant it in quite a while. And I don't want you thinking any of that was your fault, because," Lemm gestures vaguely to himself, "you know."

He hesitantly slides the paper back towards them just a tiny bit. Like - like he really, really wants a response, here. Really very much.

[focusedvoid]

...They take this as permission to clamber onto the counter properly. It puts the two them on a more even plane, and gives them a moment to think.

Settling down and draping the end of the cloak off the edge, they slowly respond.

Thank you. I am grateful for it. And I am sorry that I made a mess of your shop and frightened you.

I'm still

Long pause, as they think about using a more vague word. Ultimately, they decide against it. He isn't the only one being vulnerable, no matter how hard it is to make their quill form the right shapes.

hurt/upset about it. But I accept your apology.

[capitalcurator]

He noticed the pause, but he won't say anything to that. He's not fond of expressing himself either. Still leaning on his folded arms, Lemm gives them a nod.

"Never mind that. The shock's probably what made my mind start working - I'd forgotten who I was talking to. Anyway, it's fair enough."

Lemm reaches out to lift the corner of the page and eyes their earlier proposal again. He thought he'd feel conflicted about it, but this is not the case. It's actually a relief.

"I was going to let you put some limits on me -" he taps his open map implicitly - "but I think I like your idea much better. You should know I'm not used to travelling with anyone else, though. It'll take some getting used to and I can't promise it'll be smooth."

[focusedvoid]

Forgotten who he was talking to. They're not sure how to take that. If only Lemm were writing, they could underline it.

They stare into his face, as though they can read into it. They decide it isn't meant to be insulting. Concerning, possibly. But his needling something painful as this...shouldn't happen again. At least it seems unlikely. The apology coming out like a bad molt added layers of convincing to his comfort, earlier.

The Knight agrees. There's too much Hallownest to name every danger on a map. I haven't had to travel with anyone in a significant time either. We'll both have problems. I believe we can work through them.

[capitalcurator]

There are probably those with masks that express more than he is expressing right now.

While he parses the words on the page he can feel them staring.

"...Yes," he says simply, and refuses to look up. Why are they looking at him. "I would hope so."

Lemm is quiet for a moment.

"'No Geo' isn't quite right. I'll lay no claim to anything that doesn't hold historic interest, I think, at least while we're working together. S'fair, isn't it?"

[focusedvoid]

A half-shrug, emphasized with their arm being flung out far, to be better visible with the cloak.

I take what I want and don't care if you do too. I don't keep that many things.

And on the sudden topic of claiming things... Greenhorn wants to come along some time and for you to tell them about "things". Would that work? The Knight doesn't want to let them loose in the back room. Lemm is acting carefully enough they might secure unfair permission.

[capitalcurator]

"Hm."

Lemm twiddles his thumbs a bit. He doesn't have to think too hard about that one, either, though this time he's not sure he should let it seem like he was so quickly won over.

Ah, whatever. He should be a bit less closed around the Knight, now. Besides, they just had a heart-to-heart that... honestly knocked him off his feet a bit, and he's still feeling a bit fuzzy around the edges.

"Being given free rein to talk about all the things I know is not exactly my idea of a business expense. And they were well behaved for a little one. I think." He clears his throat. "You'll have to listen to it all, you know - unless you plan on playing the role of hired guard from a mile away. It sounds to me like you're the one paying the price here." There is a rather amused tone to him right now, though he's not showing it on his face yet.

[focusedvoid]

They don't care about payment in the first place, and listening to him talk is hardly a pain in itself. The Knight has no illusions over what half the job is going to be, wandering specifically to research history.

Much cheaper than having to listen to Zote.

Pray to the Shade Lord you two never meet. They add that last part tentatively.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm leans his face on his hands and continues chatting like he's as serious as ever.

"No, I like the sound of that after all. May we both find our way to the same room and see which one comes out still talking."

The amusement finishes creeping its way into his voice when he talks next. It is the vocal equivalent of a smirk.

"Answer many prayers, do you? I could do with another hundred Hallownest Seals."

[focusedvoid]

Before Lemm can get the whole thing out, they're yanking the cloak down over their face. No. Absolutely not. That's a complete nightmare scenario. Don't torment them so.

...Then they pull it halfway up, just enough to free one eye.

Sadly, the Shade Lord isn't the type to create things from nowhere. Request a bit of making mess instead for more luck.

The Knight doesn't actually know this. The entire Higher Being issue is strange. They...maybe could make copies from Void, now that they think about it. That could be studied, but of course wouldn't be authentic.

[capitalcurator]

"Heh."

...He's quick to mask his affection before they can emerge from the fabric enough to see it. His face settles on vaguely good-humoured, instead.

"Ah, now that I've heard. In fact some historians believe the Lord of Shades to be capable of creating a Void snap that can muddle an entire room of organised relic collection in seconds flat." He nods sagely, eyes twinkling in a very un-Lemm-like way. "S'why I don't organise mine much, you see. It's a prevention measure."

[focusedvoid]

If only they knew how to make a tiny Abyssal Shriek.

It seems you're the most blessed and knowledgeable on the subject.

And now the Knight, quite un-Knightly, is fully hidden under the cloak. No Lord of Shades here, nope. Just a pile of fabric.

[capitalcurator]

He laughs at that, no longer caring to put on the aloof pretense. It's funny. This is a funny conversation, suddenly. There was a worrisome little pang of fear that maybe he was pushing it, but their writing seems to imply they're taking this very well.

"Maybe we will get along, you and I." He sounds curious - and hopeful, that much is obvious.

Lemm is hesitant when he puts out a hand to softly ruffle the fabric on the top of their head, but there are such things as calculated risks. It only takes a second and then he returns his hand to his face.

"It's strange, but I don't find myself dreading the company. You really do give me too many chances."

[focusedvoid]

The fabric lump bops up a tiny bit, lightly startled. Not enough to immediately pull the cloak back into place, slumping down to play dramatic a little more before they finally shuffle it back to almost-correct configuration.

The Knight tries to think of something to say to that (they thought they'd been getting along reasonably well so far, compared to what this could be). But no words come.

Rather than reaching for the quill, they give Lemm a deep nod-bow.

[capitalcurator]

Being bowed to by a stranger is one matter, and after a conversation or two that usually becomes a rare thing in itself. But being bowed to by the Lord of Shades -

- It's not like that, he thinks. The Knight doesn't speak, but there are things that must be conveyed regardless and sometimes only a gesture will do. No voice to cry suffering. Absolutely the first thing he's going to address in the record. Anything is a voice if you use it that way, as he's finding.

He does not make a habit of bowing to Higher Beings, but he can make a habit of using the same voice as a friend.

Lemm pulls back and quite unceremoniously dips his head low in return.

[focusedvoid]

The reciprocation is startling in and of itself. The Knight goes stock-still, bewildered.

...They figure it's a thank you. Their first instinct is to bow back again, which would be strange. Possibly confusing Lemm back. Not necessary at the moment. They still can't help a sort of twitch.

Hopefully more smoothly than other times, they decide to push things forward. They lean over to pat Lemm's map aimlessly, lightly prompting.