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]

He knew it! Lemm does not know the full extent of why they like sitting down, but it's not the first time they've beelined for a place to sit and he sees no practical reason to stop here - he can chalk this up to a habit thing.

No practical reason, but there are plenty of other reasons. Lemm shrugs off his bag and eases himself into the seat beside the Knight, allowing himself some time to take in the scenery.

The Grey Mourner would have lingered here herself; maybe she and her lover both, time and chance allowing. This garden was made for companionship, and in the end for memento. It would have been beautiful when it thrived under the care of a Great Knight in her prime.

Lemm sighs wistfully.

"It's a shame this place is going to ruin. I've no skill with gardening to save it, and it's too out of my way." Not everything has to be about historical significance. Sometimes it really is just a shame.

[focusedvoid]

They tilt their head a little to look at Lemm from the corner of their vision. They could add this to their list of goals...but too, it's out of their way as well, and their wandering attention won't be enough for permanent upkeep.

The life in the center still endures. If they lasted until now, I think they'll last a while longer.

After, their thoughtful stare moves between the shimmering light in the center to the pipes. There doesn't seem to be a way to turn them on directly on each...

[capitalcurator]

"Maybe." He's dubious. If there's one thing making itself clear in Hallownest, it's that nothing stays in stasis forever. "I don't know how they've managed this far..."

His gaze too lands on the pipes. He noticed them when he came in, but he'd assumed they were broken. If that isn't the case, then the Grey Mourner may have turned it off herself.

What that says about her intent for the garden actually bothers Lemm very little. The dead are dead.

"...You don't think there'll be a switch somewhere, do you?" He rises, already hunting for one.

[focusedvoid]

They've picked up a thing or two about gardening in their life, and file away another thought about taking some of these plants to Greenpath. It's likely they'll just die if they try, but perhaps it would be worth the attempt.

They hop off a moment after Lemm does, darting through the foliage (even the smallest plants are taller than they) to examine the center first.

The Knight finds no switch or button, but they swing the Dream Nail over the stones, finding they're suffused with a gentleness and words they can't hope to transcribe. They take a moment to tap a claw over each before reemerging. It accomplishes nothing, but feels right.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm instinctively searches the edges of the room, encouraged by the Knight seemingly approving of this course of action. When he finds nothing, he turns to tracking what little of the pipes he can see; maybe if he can figure out where they lead... No, they go straight into the floor, that's not helpful.

He raps one with a fist, and isn't sure if he hears a faint creak. All things considered it doesn't matter if a few plants die off in an abode no one uses, but it looks like both he and his travel companion would prefer if they lasted a bit longer.

"What've you found, little guide? Anything at all, or do we resort to your specialty?"

[focusedvoid]

They shake their head but point back. No luck on activating the pipes, but the rocks are interesting. The Knight touched them, so it's unlikely to damage Lemm if he tries the same.

Though they stop and stare in confusion they forget to express. Specialty?

...Their Nail? They can cut through the dead mess to search underneath, they suppose, and wander back to the outer area to try.

[capitalcurator]

He follows what they're gesturing at, and nods. In a moment, then. He rises and dusts himself down a bit.

They are... almost correct! "Oh. Back here. I was thinking more along the lines of... ah..." He makes a solid gesture of thunking a fist down into his other palm. "Why don't you try giving one of these a whack with the flat of your Nail? You've a knack for that kind of thing, and it can't hurt if they're already broken."

Lemm could probably try this out himself if he took out one of his heavier tools, but - they're always hitting things, and here is an opportunity to hit something. Why would he do it?

[focusedvoid]

They're already swiping through layers of leaves and clear up around a full trellis for the sake of completion. This takes a few moments longer than they thought it would; there's a great amount leaves that hadn't been cleared up, and some of them had gotten rather grimy. Lucky their Nail doesn't let that sort of thing cling anymore. Pale Ore has fascinatingly helpful properties.

Right. They go to the nearest pipe and thunk it.

Thunk again.

A third time, and a spray of water bursts forth enough to hit them in the face disconcertingly hard before slowing to an inconsistent sputter.

[capitalcurator]

He stands by to watch, a step out of their range just as a precaution. By the second hit he's leaning forward to peer at the pipe, though he manages to keep a little more distance since he's not the one bashing at it.

With a stifled snicker, he quickly moves in to steer the Knight back a couple of steps by the shoulders - he's too late to save them from the initial blast-in-the-face, but it's the principle of the thing. Besides, every chance of a repeat.

"Good work! Now, I told you I'd have revenge for that little incident but I admit I wasn't expecting to get it here. Cold, was it?"

[focusedvoid]

They consider dramatically collapsing backwards after that admission, but they'd more likely fall to the dirt than against Lemm. The Knight wipes the water off their face and flicks it towards his before ambling off again, thwacking some other pipes once or twice. They're not exactly trying to turn them on or break them, only listening to see if they can find their source.

It's luck over method that they find a panel buried under some dead vines or once-enterprising roots beneath their steps, inconspicuously placed a few (presumably) Mourner-length strides from the door. They slice through and pop it open, staring at a slightly dirty dial and the King's symbol shining up from the bottom of the flipped-up panel. The latter sight does not impress them.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm can't help but be amused by the whole thing, and only barely bothers to tilt his head away from the flick of water. He really didn't intend for them to get splashed - but it was very funny and if it had happened to him he's sure they'd react the same.

"Don't be dramatic, it's just water. I bet it's from the same place as the lake." Or not. He wouldn't have a clue.

Lemm strays over to the rocks they indicated, mildly prodding at his memory to see if there's anything familiar about them. As with many of the Grey Mourner's personal effects, not much is coming to mind. Geology too is a bit less of a strong point for him than things made or constructed.

"What were you telling me about these, Knight-? Oh." As he spoke he was already reaching out to touch one, and he makes contact right as he finishes. There is a short pause as his countenance shifts subtly, and then he shakes his head. "Never mind," he calls over.

He stands there a bit longer than he expected, hand still flat on the stone, a little reluctant to let go. He settles for just glancing over at the Knight instead of actually approaching - he can kind of see from here. Good enough.

"Is that what we should have been looking for? I'm no engineer. Only thought of hitting it because I tried the same when a lift lever got stuck."

[focusedvoid]

Their head cants towards Lemm until his call of never-minding. No surprise injury, then.

The panel hiding the dial's unlike most of Hallownest's designs, as far as they've encountered. Then again, there might be plenty of these hidden throughout the kingdom, once buried beneath Infection and still under the build-up of grime. They'll try to check next trek through places with blatant infrastructure.

They twist the dial up two notches. The clicks are satisfying. The lack of other response isn't.

Another two, and the pipes tremble in an alarmingly audible way before about half start shooting water directly up.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm is admittedly very preoccupied with the stone. He hears the ominous rattling, but it takes him a second to register where it's coming from - and by then it's too late.

"Gah!"

The sudden rain-down of fountained water catches him by surprise, and Lemm finally yanks his hand away from the stone to march over to join them.

"What are you doing? Was that on purpose? Turn that off!"

[focusedvoid]

Starling Lemm wasn't on purpose, but they can't say they regret it, and so neither nod or shake their head. This it barely a problem, they've both just come from the much-wetter City of Tears.

Click-click-click. The spouts flicker off, more slowly than they'd gone on.

Even with such little time, there are a good number of small puddles strewn across the paths.

[capitalcurator]

Precisely! He didn't leave the City of Being Rained On to come and get rained on elsewhere! Fuming.

...He would be, anyway, but the lingering sense of serenity from the stones has Lemm a little subdued. No retaliative scolding comes, and he just flashes them a sarcastic look before turning his consideration on the little control panel. He's not exactly soaked, though a few trickles of wet run down his face from his horns. Lemm makes no effort to wipe it off. He is used to rain.

He comes to the same conclusion they did.

"So much of Hallownest's still in working order. S'a bit humbling, isn't it? Shouldn't wonder if there're switches for the cargo lifts somewhere. Maybe we've been too quick to assume." Like him with the Stag Stations, for example. He turns to give the greenhouse a quick once-over. "Well, they're watered, at least."

[focusedvoid]

The Knight nods twice. They have some doubts of the cargo lifts by the Storerooms, though. The City's lifts might be in a poor state with how heavy and waterlogged they are.

They leave the panel open for Lemm's perusal, if he likes, and decide to wait by the doorway. The greenhouse is pleasant, but there's far more to explore.

[capitalcurator]

"True..." He has little interest in the panel now that they know where it is, what it's for, and how it's used. The flowers are a little better off than they were. Hopefully, anyway!

Lemm retrieves his bag from by the bench, and passes back through the room to join the Knight. His hand touches briefly at one of the stones in passing, and it almost slows him down - but they've more to see, and there's no sense lingering here.

...He does pause at the door and look over his shoulder, just for a moment.

Onward, though.

"...There's someone sneaking around making repairs, I know it. Pity they haven't come forward. I've a fair few complaints."

[focusedvoid]

Falling back into step at his side, the Knight perks up and answers in writing made wobbly by the walk.

You've noticed? I saw them only once. (Twice, though they don't realize that was the same bug.) They ran before I could do anything. Perhaps I was thought a Husk. Maybe Lemm will have a better chance in the future, if they're not as shy after the plague's end.

[capitalcurator]

"I've noticed." When you think you're the only person in a city of mindless husks, it's a little jarring to find things are not as you left them. He'd taken lamps now and then, and occasionally engaged in a bit of breaking and entering - this is not pertinent information. "If you've seen them, I'm happy to take you at your word. At least I'm not cracking!"

When they exit the little hall into the grander room with the staircase, Lemm heads straight for it. There's bound to be more information on the mansion's owner up there, he's sure.

"Ah." He stops where the staircase turns to a balcony, and admires a series of paintings along the walls. Some are of Hallownest in its prime, wide shots of the city in all the fullness of its population; others are simpler portraits of people the Mourner knew. Out here in the hall there is nothing to speak of her lover, but Lemm notably wanders past a few, including a portrait of Dryya, that he has no hope of recognising.

[focusedvoid]

Some of those paintings were clearly by Lurien the Watcher, as he had similar by his resting place. Others are, naturally, unrecognizable to them, but still intriguing to see.

The Knight starts gesturing to Dryya's before they completely freeze.

There's a significantly smaller picture near hers that isn't quite a painting; a sketch, some color slapped on, most of the subjects difficult to see with how much white there is but Isma's green, with even that washed out lighter than the reality. It's this that drew their eye, but then their stare slid down.

This picture wasn't meant to be here. A secret. A mistake.

It portrays Isma and Ogrim amidst a setting of silvery vines adorned with just as silvery thorn, and hidden nearly behind some of the silvery leaves, there hangs a pair of floating circles that resolve the rest of a near-invisible figure into their sibling. Not as their miserable memorial in the City, but what must have been near the beginning, standing barely taller than the Knight still does.

Next to the others, they're so small.

[capitalcurator]

They gestured, so he looks. By the time he's looking the Knight is already fixed on something else. He's still getting used to their wandering attention - it's no matter, whatever they're drawn to tends to be of some relevance. He leans in to examine the portrait of Dryya and scritches idly at his beard. Someone of some significance, he supposes. A Great Knight, possibly, if they're drawing his attention.

The next. More figures he does not recognise. If the Knight spoke he'd know who they are by now, but he's patient, and he glances down to watch for them to pull out their paper, so he can read as they write like he always does.

They do not. So something is wrong.

Lemm's eyes snap back to the picture, and he studies it hard. At first he's trying to make sense of the two figures at the fore, but Lemm is a Relic Seeker - he missed it the first time, that little suggestion of detail, sketch lines so faded they're scarcely there at all.

He double-takes - down at the Knight, then back at the picture, then down again. The cogs turn. The horns aren't right. The horns are in fact much more like -

Relic Seeker Lemm keeps his eyes locked on the Knight, and convinces himself to say nothing until they give him... something. Anything, really. They're so still.

[focusedvoid]

They know Lemm is there, looking where they are and they--want him to stop. They don't want anyone to look at this.

Their claws are already hooked around one edge of its nondescript picture frame before they reconsider. It doesn't matter if they're seen small. Why would it? Lemm knows worse than the sight of their sibling closer to hatching than Sealing.

It's hard to look at. It's important to see. They do not hate their Sibling for heeding the same call they did to scramble to the top and beyond, but the memory is present--the memory is fresh. Seeing them like this is two different pains at once, of void-deep memory being left behind, of knowing what absolute torment the face not quite looking towards the viewer is going to experience in its future. The first feels like the Knight is betraying them now.

[capitalcurator]

He's not sure how to react. But rather than lapse into his personal safety of prodding too far with questions or being too dismissive, he makes himself stay silent.

They want the picture? He studies their claws as they reach up. They're hesitating: no. They don't want the picture?

They're siblings, as the Knight put it. Lemm knows that to mean there's a connection. It's so uncertain here. He does not have context, vital context, he needs so much more to make any kind of decision -

- this is not his decision to make. He is not on an expedition alone; he is with the Knight, and they have their own thoughts. Lemm is not the only one who gets to make decisions. Not like always.

He studies the Knight carefully, no longer looking at the picture at all.

"D'you want this?"

[focusedvoid]

Yes. No. Maybe.

For a while, they stay standing there with their claws clutching the edge as if stuck tight.

But they're not. It's a simple movement to let go, allow their arm to drop to the side. Their discomfort over that is foolish. It's only a picture. A rare picture, probably one-of-a-kind. Still only that. Their real sibling is in Deepnest, and they swear that's where they'll go next, no matter their potential frustration with Herrah.

I don't know. I Maybe. I didn't was startled to see this them.

They nearly add they have nowhere to put it, but that's not true anymore. They have a house. They can hang anything they like on the walls. But that means anyone who goes in can see it.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm waits a little while, even after he's read their stuttering reply, just in case they amend anything else.

Eventually he looks back up at the picture, and his reply is... practical. Unassuming. Very Relic Seeker-like.

"I could hold it for you in the back room. S'not like I don't have the space."

It is easier to be clinical and offer a solution than to ask them why they're so hesitant.

"Could pick it up on the way out."