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

[capitalcurator]

Lemm reels back and flaps his whole hand at their paper this time, repeatedly, at arm's length.

"Urgh! Stop it! Nauseating information that not a single bug in Hallownest or beyond needs to know - least of all me!" He finishes batting away their words and presses that hand to his forehead instead. "It's no wonder I've a headache, noxious little brute that you are. Bring any of that with you into my shop - or near me ever again, and you will find out how much a Wanderer's Journal weighs."

[focusedvoid]

I only meant the acid, I've no idea what you're talking about. How could you question the lord of shades intentions

No, sorry, they can't keep going. The Knight can't physically laugh but they can give up, dropping the quill to put a paw on the side of their mask.

[capitalcurator]

"Uuuuuuuugh."

This noise is growled through both hands, because his face is firmly pressed into them again. Lemm dully considers sticking out an elbow and shoving them off the counter.

Instead he just smooths his hands down his face and folds them under his chin, fends off the embarrassment - this is easier because, unusually for him, it feels like he's in on the joke - and sighs.

"Amendment to the record: heretofore 'Lord of Shades' hereafter to be referred to as 'Sewer-Dredging Menace' throughout; refer chapters two, five, and six."

[focusedvoid]

Give them another moment.

Or several. Give them several. They need to get their swirling glee under enough control to pick the quill back up.

Only sewer-dredging menace? There can be more titles to add to the stockpile. The Relic Seeker Tormentor. The Stag Frustrater. The Obnoxious Thief of Geo. To a great collective, the Great Hallownest Annoyance.

[capitalcurator]

Alright, that's it. Lemm irritably snatches up a pen and scoots their paper closer to himself.

His usual quick scholar's scratch doesn't make its appearance - his writing now is slow and unfamiliar, and more than once he second-guesses himself. The shape doesn't look like it's anything until it just... keeps going. The same strokes are written over in smaller symbology and yet more insinuation of form is scratched into existing dried ink with the edge of the pen.

When Lemm is done he slides the paper back to them with a very smug flourish.

More or less it reads... nearly every title they've put, at the same time! But not very well. It is very badly translated and condensed into one very complicated-looking symbol with a lot of very glaring mistakes in it. Arcane information works none-dimensionally and was never meant for paper, and Lemm's not remotely close to fluent to begin with.

All this for a joke.

"I propose we replace your Brand," he suggests.

[focusedvoid]

They watch upside-down with amused confusion until he's about halfway done, and then they're rocking back, simply incredibly, incredibly amused. The Knight can't can't read it as Lemm can, but they'd looked at the Arcane Egg a few times even before they opened it.

The Knight makes a show of staring at their Branded palm thoughtfully, and then their empty one, before going back to the paper.

It's rather complicated for my small paws. I fear it might not fit.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm is a little smug from his Arcane-copy triumph. And the headache is waning just enough to trick him into calm. And the silliest boundaries have already been established.

Lemm poises his pen, ominous.

"We'll make it fit, then."

He lunges for the Knight's un-branded hand and - mindful of the point - begins an extremely just-for-show attempt at drawing the same thing again right onto them.

[focusedvoid]

The Knight startles by freezing, though they relax quite quickly.

He gets a chance to make a lot of lines, at the least. Enough to make a mess, though it's near-impossible to see on their soft black shell.

However, it might be more visible on Lemm. This, they cheerfully try to find out by yanking their paw away and slapping down onto the bit of beard draped closest to them.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm does not care how the lines turn out. He'd expected more struggling, anyway. This is frankly an abomination of a translation and would make sense to no one -

The ink smears so well down the hairs of his beard that Lemm's initial hands-off shock reaction hangs there for a solid moment.

His head tilts up from looking at the very stained bit of his beard to stare so, so darkly at the Knight.

His expression doesn't change, but his wrist flicks with perfect penmanship. The inked quill's nib spits a beautiful arc of ink right across their pale mask.

[focusedvoid]

The Knight pats around where it hit in absolute outrage. Outrage, they tell you. How dare he do what they have done.

Clearly, something must be done about it.

They raise their paw dramatically, challenging with a sharp point to his face.

And then they scoot over to try pushing the entirety of their stained mask right against more of his beard.

[capitalcurator]

NO. THIS RISK WAS NOT CALCULATED.

"Gah!"

Lemm flails suddenly, instinctively trying to pull back and only succeeding in dragging the whole thing deeper into Ink Smear Problems.

He drops the pen and grabs the root of his beard like the end of a carpet and shakes. His other, by now very ink-blotched hand lands on the Knight's head and attempts to shove them loose, totally uncoordinated now. "Get off! You little - get off! I'll - OFF! Off with you or I'll stick you with an Idol so help me I will do it!" Flailing struggling etc please not the beard.

[focusedvoid]

No need for violence, Lemm, the initiator of the violence thinks, mirthfully wishing they could simultaneously be doing this and write.

The Knight is yanked along a little before rolling off where they'd scooted onto a bit of the beard. They stand and dart backward, fended off and terribly threatened by the power of his shove.

They've got a wildly smeared handprint directly between their horns. Their mask is covered in bizarre shapes of ink where the individual hairs made lines. Put all over a surface that certainly was never meant for being written on, they can feel little parts of it dripping.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm immediately takes the edges and spreads his beard to examine down at it like he's evaluating a swatch of cloth.

It is stained. There are smudges all over, but more notably there is a rounded, un-inked edge of a part-circle where some ink around their eyehole imprinted.

"This won't come out," he tells them, so urgently and seriously. "This won't come out, I'll be stuck with - Knight! You've-"

He looks up, finally, at the absolute mess of a Vessel standing on his counter with a mess of a wet, ridiculous handpainting on their mask.

Lemm tries to stop snickering and it just makes it funnier - he breaks. One fist pressed firmly to his mouth to try to stifle it like a cough (wholly ineffective) he turns away, wracked with laughter and doubled over his counter.

[focusedvoid]

For half a moment, they feel a true stab of concern. Perhaps they shouldn't have pushed quite so far as nearly tackling him--

--Ah, no, it's fine. Lemm is cracking as much as they have.

They clap twice, which only makes the mess a bit worse, leaving a small spatter over the counter's surface. A fine piece of art, a fine performance.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm is curled into himself like he has any chance of just commanding himself to stop. As it fades just enough for him to get a proper grip of himself, the little flickers of ink from the Knight's applause hits the surface and his hand clamps quickly across his mouth like a safeguard. It nearly sets him off again.

It's a long time before he trusts himself to speak.

"This," his hand comes to rest between the Knight's horns, and a thumb begins trying to smudge off some of the ink "is the L-Lord of Shades, you see, long may they... Aha. I demand compensation for the damages, you little mischief."

[focusedvoid]

Mostly inexpressive as always, they nevertheless manage to radiate an aura of smug. This nonsense has gone swimmingly well.

At Lemm's touch, they keep mostly still, although it feels like he's making the mess worse. They don't much care either way. It's only ink.

They do, however, tip their head very, very slightly in query. What is the Lord of Shades to pay with for this (enjoyable and absurd) mess they've made?

[capitalcurator]

He is definitely making the mess worse. The ink has already mostly sunk into his beard, but on the Knight's mask it's taking a much longer time to dry - his thumb just smudges it everywhere. If he were a slightly more childish bug perhaps he'd give in to the urge to paint something funny for them to find in the mirror later.

He retracts his hand and turns to feel around on a shelf.

Lemm could take advantage of the opportunity to have them to read-over his current draft or something, but that would be straying this visit dangerously close to work. They get a joke answer instead. "Maybe I'll draft you as my personal janitor. How envious d'you think the others might be to hear I have a Higher Being tidying up after me?"

A cleaning cloth is retrieved, and summarily flicked into the Knight's face. Catch.

"Then again we've established you've a talent for making a tremendous mess! No, I should clear your debt this time for my own sake, I think."

[focusedvoid]

It's for the best he refrained.

For the Knight. They don't spend much time looking in shiny surfaces for the sake of personal grooming, and could end with odd writing well into a visit to Deepnest. That'd be a difficult visit. Not necessarily a terrible one, but more distracting than they'd consider worth it.

The cloth is not caught, because they've short arms as well as small paws, and neither is it dodged, as they would've done if it were a threat. The cloth smacks and hangs from their face for a moment before they snatch it off.

Lemm does seem to be joking, but after they wipe a bit of it off (missing the handprint completely), they stick out a tendril of Shade Wing to wiggle. They could clean a bit with this.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm considers it.

Relics are delicate. And they do tend to make a mess. And this is not work and he doesn't want it to be, at all, but - and this is important - that doesn't seem to be why they're offering. Like the thing with the coat.

...Actually he can see a point in this.

Lemm makes a thoughtful noise and turns in his seat, casting an evaluative eye over the shelves. He stands - no visible wincing this time - and quietly slides a couple of things out of the way, searching.

When he returns to his place, he sets a decorated box on the counter and slides it towards the Knight. It's folded on a hinge, and looks like it's meant to open out - there's a small cog mechanism instead of a latch. (It folds out into a fancy board game set. A couple of the pieces are missing, and the rest have tarnished badly - hence his offering it for the Knight's attention - but it'd be an expensive thing otherwise.)

[focusedvoid]

They'd meant the mess of ink, truthfully, but they aren't bothered enough to correct him. They're rather intrigued, actually, for whatever Lemm might be searching for.

Though they do wipe off what they'd left on the counter while he's poking around. And make sure to wipe off their paws extremely thoroughly when he offers them an...object. They can have manners when they choose.

The Knight is careful twisting the cog to find it's a board game. They delicately pluck up one of the more interestingly-colored pieces to examine closer.

[capitalcurator]

"I've little interest in this sort of thing myself," he explains. "But you can see the historic value."

The pieces are all Hallownest symbology! Carved spiky crowns for the most notable pieces of course, but also stylised little figures of bugs and rounded elytra symbols and a couple of miniature models of the actual buildings themselves. There's even a tiny stag bell on a post that might have tinkled when picked up, though the actual chime part has long been broken away and lost.

The board is shellwood, with the lacquer coming away in places. The pieces are all metal except for the crowns - those are dusted pale(r) with some kind of sprayed-on treatment, though it's worn off in all the fiddly places.

Lemm fishes up another cloth and sets to polishing.

[focusedvoid]

The Knight ends up staring at their little piece for a rather long time. A little beetle, with just the slightest shine of lighter tint beneath the tarnish. And the Stag bell, that gets a long look, too.

Before they start, they tug the paper back. There's still some space left to write between some of the wilder ink spatters.

You know, if these weren't your own, these are something I would have taken for myself.

They haven't recently paused to think of this often, but they are fond of collecting. They've been so preoccupied throughout all Hallownest, and before, making their way to Hallownest. Tiny hobbies fall by the wayside that way. There's no need they can't again, soon. Not with these, but...there will surely be something they can begin working on again, solely for their satisfaction.

They hold their shiny beetle-piece up close to their face, studying the worst of it, and begin rubbing the cloth via their tendrils. No, that wasn't a return joke--this is easier to get into cracks and crannies.

[capitalcurator]

That gets a hm. What he thinks of this information is not displayed on his face.

"I'm not selling," he says lightly.

Lemm has never been a generous person, and there's no flattering way to say that this is entirely on purpose. He likes to have stuff. It's not that deep. (Or if it is, it's not that hard to figure out.)

He is discovering lately that there are other things he likes as much, now that he's been given express permission to try and fail and try again.

"There're a few pieces missing, though. Seeing it complete would be a novelty, and I've no real use for games." He continues working the tarnish out of one of the more worn crown-pieces, careful not to strip the coating in the process. "Might part with it if you found replacements."

[focusedvoid]

The Knight would make a similar hm noise back if they could.

They keep at cleaning the beetle for a while, musing. They aren't in any hurry to make conversation, even though that was primarily meant to be such. They don't want the whole thing even if they had a desperate desire, only the pieces. Though possibly they could use the whole of it, now that they're more likely to have others to use it with...

As delicate as their tendrils can be, they are, naturally, completely unpracticed at writing with them. With the quill right there and most of the paper a mess already, they see no harm in spontaneously trying.

The result, predictably, is its own disaster. WHere did yOu f ind thS?

[capitalcurator]

His eyes flick away from the piece he's cleaning just long enough to - okay no he needs to actually stop what he's doing and read this one, because wow. Lemm scoffs lightly at the uneven scrawl.

"There're other shops than mine, dotted around close to Fountain Square where visitors would see them. As far as I know I've pried into each, so don't expect to find anything I'd buy off you." Literally pried, in most cases. "I found myself stuck three streets away in one of those kitschy souvenir shops, waiting for some unwanted attention to wander off. While I was there I found the board knocked all over the floor. I never could find all the pieces, and I did look hard. Believe me, those pieces aren't there any more. Must've been carried off or shuffled into the Waterways."

Lemm pauses then, turning the crown in his fingers so that it catches the light. He could leave off this next bit, since it's not pertinent information. But they're both getting better at the don't-have-to-but-will-anyway.

"I had a lot of time to search."