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]

Very well. They'll keep out of it. He can take care of himself, and they have another to be keeping an eye on.

I should whether or not you stay long. This house is under-equipped.

Tired? The Knight nods, slow and somehow heavy. Yes. It's been a hard...however long it's been.

[capitalcurator]

He shrugs at that. Their home, and he knows they like to perch on things. (And if he visited again it would be convenient - oh, he's already thinking about that, is he? Interesting.)

If you need a ^short break I can watch her for you. She would be safe.

He doesn't have much faith in that suggestion, but it's worth saying.

[focusedvoid]

They're visibly conflicted, head tipping between the paper and the couch. Lemm wouldn't hurt her. The worst that could happen is some confused upset, and there's been enough of that.

Short break, he specified. That nearly draws up a spark of amusement.

I should look for seating. and fetch a meal. If Myla wakes, all you need do is make sure she doesn't walk into anything if she tries getting up. Would you like any food?

[capitalcurator]

Lemm is, too, considering his bedside manner. The one that does not exist, as far as he knows.

...It will not be a disaster, he reprimands himself firmly. No matter how inexperienced he is he can keep a little bug like that from harm, and that's likely all he has to do.

Oh. He sort of should have expected they'd trust him with this, shouldn't he? Lemm is careful to stay casual as he replies.

Easily done. She will come to no harm, on my word. Will not take eyes off her.

No. thank you. Maybe later. Wait, but is it rude to refuse? Agh, he's forgotten everything about etiquette.

[focusedvoid]

Standing up is a struggle, or perhaps it's pulling away from contact. Frank reflection leads them to understanding they'd like to sleep while clinging to Lemm, and how they can never allow that.

They glance over and pause. Peaks of a pair of black horns are barely visible.

Grimmchild seems to assist in her rest, and they can't stray far from their Charm. Are you capable of equipping one? They lightly part the front of their wings to reveal their Notches and its face, no longer unsettling to them.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm has seen them upset before, and they'd often seemed unbalanced. His hand settles over their shoulder a while just to be certain they aren't in danger of stumbling, and they'll feel it tense as they reveal the admittedly eerie little visage in miniature.

He stares at it for a moment. He has a lot of questions suddenly, but now isn't the time to indulge his curiosity.

As long as there's nothing to worry about. Looked at me when I came in.

Never went in for charms much. No notches unless a thoughtful pause, and he shakes his head maybe in the shop. None on me.

[focusedvoid]

Headshake, as their wing drops back into place. No, nothing to worry about, merely the Charm and vessel of a nightmare god. They'll need to take them with and be hasty about it.

Worth asking, but it's fine. I'll be within shouting distance should something happen. Nobody's seemed to begrudge their recent habit of breaking in places nearby.

Grimmchild, upon sensing the Knight's intentions as they take a deliberate step towards the door, flitters into the air and teleports to hover above their shoulder. "Mryeeh," they chatter quietly, peering at Lemm with some interest.

[capitalcurator]

This gets another nod out of him, and Lemm pushes to his feet and follows them to the door.

He eyes Grimmchild with some guarded suspicion, the teleportation getting plenty of confusion. It's not that he has reason to think they'll be trouble, but a little healthy wariness helped carry him to Hallownest. Still, the Knight is comfortable with them being around - especially now - so it must be fine. He'll ask his questions later.

Before the Knight can leave, Lemm scribbles another note and taps them lightly on the back.

Seats and meals aside, get some rest. This is accompanied by... the old settling-Void fingerwaggle he made when he didn't know what to say about their encounter in the Crossroads.

He wants to look stern. He can't; he's still too worried. So they get what is unmistakeably a pleading little head-tilt instead.

[focusedvoid]

They mimic the gesture somewhat, and then point to his own word on the previous paper: short. They can't promise anything short if they went so far as sleep, as well as keeping Grimmchild away. They seem to help, and they're wary of removing Hiveblood to place them directly onto Myla instead.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm shakes his head and waves a hand - flaps it, like he's chasing off stray lumaflies. I know what I said! I say a lot of things!

...The gesture changes into a half-shrug. He motions behind him, just in case that changes anything. When they get back, then? Here? Anywhere. He taps the word rest and relents. He's made his point, hopefully.

[focusedvoid]

They dip their head.

It's not a promise. This sort of tired isn't something a brief sit on the bench will fix, and they're not in a place to allow sleep.

His visit and their small breakdown's already helped, shaking them back to reality from their mire of horror and guilt.

They'll try. Perhaps if he sticks around when they return. They're not going to pressure him, however, by conveying such in writing.

With a wave, they depart. Hastily. They want to be fast, they want to return--but they learn just how concerned everyone else in Dirtmouth has been, and are in a better state to field them. It will take them far more time than they realize.



A while after the Knight has left, a voice pipes up, soft, quavering. "M-my helmet...?" Myla hasn't opened her eyes.

[capitalcurator]

No sense standing in the doorway - he has a watch to keep, and he is a pragmatic bug; this is what they need of him right now. Lemm pulls the door closed to the room full of lights with no hesitation, and returns to his place by the wall and settles down with no complaint about the hard floor.

He always includes a Wanderer's Journal in his bag. This one is yet untranslated; it'll occupy him for some time, amid occasional glances up to check that the bug on the couch yet... breathes. And breathe she does. (To his relief.)



Lemm cannot lose himself in the fog of history right now, re-reading the same parts over and over, returning to his own thoughts fast enough that he gleans nothing from the text. So it is with immediate presence that he snaps to attention and scrambles to his feet, quiet as he can, journal pressed to his chest.

Helmet. Mining, he thinks, she's a mining bug, and wrings every little piece he's gleaned from his texts while he stalls for time.

"There was an accident," he tries. It's not untrue. "You're to rest for now."

A beat, a recall, some corporate release he'd painstakingly read to his own boredom between even less interesting ones about ore imports and standards and welfare. Relic Seeker Lemm uses what little he knows.

"You're on sick leave, Myla. No need to wear that here. Until you recover."

[focusedvoid]

Accident. Sounds right. "F-fell," she agrees, and then sings, voice cracking: "Bury the knight with her..."

Myla's claws blindly feel around for something, grasping another blanket and pulling it onto herself in a lump.

"Wh-who's--? Who's there," she says suddenly, louder, a few moments later.

[capitalcurator]

Yes. Yes, it's fine, it's working, he almost breathes a silent sigh of relief but -

Lemm puts his weight on his back foot, but does not step back. That would make a noise. He does not want her to look at him.

Quick, then, quickly find something to work with. His thumbs run back and forth over the grooves of the journal's heavier text.

He doesn't know. The records did not - he can't lie fast enough -

"A Relic Seeker," he tells her. "I'm tasked with knowing, you see." He's nervous. She could panic. May well panic. He promised to guard her. Lemm steps a little closer to the couch, despite everything. "What was that you just sai- sang? Did you sing?"

[focusedvoid]

"Y-yes. I'm--I--I know, um, a few s-songs. There's the colors, they're... It's d-dark, and it's....good to n-not be alone in the dark, haha. The one about a c-crown, I remembered it. You know." She moves to sit up, but it turns into more of a sideways flop, and her eyes are open, she's staring at him now.

"You--why are they l-looking at me," she asks urgently, antennae twitching. "They're b-by the mouth. It's not crystals. I c-cant give them anything."

[capitalcurator]

Lemm moves a bit nearer as she tries to lift herself, mind racing. He was left little instruction and he feels he needs so much now that she's not just a shape on a couch-! But it occurs to him in time that the Knight had no solid advice to offer. They are perhaps both as inexperienced as each other. It's up to him to try to handle this, so that the Knight is not compelled to run ragged.

"...I'll take your lyrics, then," he insists. Perhaps she's seeing things. He'd better take her mind off that. "Never mind who's looking. You're right. No one ought to be alone in the dark. What's this about a crown?"

[focusedvoid]

Myla stares at him, wavering a bit. "...Oh, you...I was r-remembering. It's--it kept me awake, when..." she trails off into silence that lingers for an uncomfortably long time. She keeps looking at Lemm, glancing toward the door (shut tight) and window (completely covered by tarp) between the lights, before she finally gets the words arranged into place and sings.

The Knight slips inside in the middle of this.

Iselda is behind them. She doesn't interrupt whatever's going on, but she's holding a pot--there's no proper place for it, but she sets the whole thing on the ground, glaring at Lemm until she knows he's paying attention--then gesturing at the pot, Myla, and the Knight very pointedly. Make them eat, she's saying, before she shuts the door.

The Knight doesn't notice, producing some cushions to drop on the floor. Their claws are shaking a bit.

[capitalcurator]

During her quiet moment Lemm hovers, just a bit. He isn't sure what to do but what he claimed he was doing - recording. Playing the role of scholar is much easier than pretending to be someone else, and perhaps that's the best choice for someone as confused as Myla. He takes down the song as he said he would, making sure she sees him listening. And he listens, properly.

Halfway through, the Knight returns. Lemm is slow to look aside, and picks his moment when Myla is especially distracted, in case she sees his attention on something else and stops.

(That one is staring daggers at him. He has no room in this rare situation to glare any daggers back, and so Lemm just holds her gaze. His head dips slightly to the side, a half-acknowledgement. And she is gone.)

His head flicks down to check on the Knight...

Ah. It did not go well, he thinks.

Lemm will give them a moment. He takes down the last few shaky pieces of Myla's song, keeping half an eye on the Knight as he tries to keep up the appearance of being Myla's audience. (Not just the appearance. His transcription is accurate; nothing is just for show.)

[focusedvoid]

It's been an overwhelming time. They've realized the alarm they've caused to more than only Lemm, and now they're back to hear Myla's singing, really singing. She'd tried earlier, in fragmentary pieces, but she could never focus enough to read their writing when they attempted to ask after it. Nor anything else. But her silence was the most concerning.

They produce a flimsy folding table to finish off their scavenged items. There are bowls they stored beneath the couch. They're particularly quiet when they make their way to it, walking around the edge of the room to keep from frightening her.

She isn't obviously startled, but notices the Knight's presence quickly. Her singing shivers into silence. Ducking to fetch the bowl, they're glad their hurt can't openly show.

[capitalcurator]

He does not need to look at the paper to keep writing, and right now his attention is split between Myla and the Knight, pen scratching down lyrics as he watches the Knight furnish the place a bit.

(He is reminded, not so unkindly, of his earliest times in the City. He loathes the word scavenger, but the shop had not been his then. The back room even less. The emptiness felt cold and impersonal until he took what no one was left to use. ...Maybe he should consider helping in that regard. Later.)

His pen stutters to a halt as Myla's song drops off, and Lemm remembers himself.

"Ah... It's time to eat, Myla," he tries, trying to keep his voice soft. The room feels so quiet now. "Our friend has brought you something. I'll not trouble you for now." As if it was his idea to stop.

He folds the paper and stows it with his things, dipping his horns at the Knight in uneasy greeting.

[focusedvoid]

Grimmchild flutters to perch on the arm of the couch above her head. She doesn't seem to know to look to them or to the Knight, and closes her eyes with a soft noise of confusion.

The room is uncomfortably quiet as they go scoop food into the bowl. Soup, of tiktik broth and moss imbued with something sweetish, made by Cornifer. The couple swear by its healthful properties. They accept that at least Myla has yet to act terribly against it.

Would you like to go run errands now? they pause to offer as an out. Mealtime takes a while. It involves hand-spooning and she needs much of it for hydration. If not, they tip their head to the cushions, each a dull color but still rather comfortable.

[capitalcurator]

He fidgets, looking a little vacant. He's uncomfortable with this, with being here, while she is cared for. The Knight is his friend, but Myla is a stranger; it feels too intimate to stay and watch. Maybe he will go and...

...Iselda's warning glare rises to the forefront of his thoughts. He isn't sure quite what she expects of him, but wandering out and being seen to be unhelpful will not earn him any points there. Lemm imagines being scolded, and how easily he'd turn that into a shouting match on the street.

He abruptly shakes his head. Best to be unhelpful out of sight, at least for a little while. He trudges quietly over to the table and takes off his bag, seating himself where they indicated.

"I'll stay a bit longer if it's all the same to you." She seems to be awake for the moment, so Lemm doesn't return to writing just yet. He is careful to keep his voice low regardless. The last thing he wants is to spook her. "Steady."

This is added as an afterthought, and he indicates to their shaky-looking paws with an encouraging nod.

[focusedvoid]

Alright. They may question his decision internally, but have no need to insist.

Myla isn't the first ill being the Knight's had to assist in their lifetime. Some of the doing feels worse, as their own error is how she's ended up this way--but they can firmly push that back.

Or they thought. They take a moment after they sit beside her on the couch (smaller but sized well enough to fit them both) to set the bowl on their lap and clench their paws into fists until they still. It's then they're steady enough to go through the process of gently sitting her up, and pushing careful sips into her mouth.

One sign of progress they hadn't been capable of noticing in their distress: she allows them rather than flinches away, unlike the first few times they tried.

[capitalcurator]

In the meantime, Lemm figures his best bet is minding his own business. The journal he brought is taken out again to pass the time, and to distract him from looking up. He doesn't reckon the Knight would appreciate it; something tells him Myla deserves a little more dignity than to be watched while she eats.

Staying at the Knight's side feels like the correct course at least for a little while, but this does not magically tell him how to act in their home. He could be overstaying his welcome for all he knows. But surely they'd tell him... (Will you be staying long? Would you like to go run errands now? Had they been not-so-subtle hints? But he's loath to go anywhere with them shaking like that.)

It is a little while before he registers he's stopped reading altogether, staring at the journal without really seeing it. The smell of home cooking is permeating.

The Knight can be as modest or oblivious as they must, but bugs up here really like them. Elderbug had praise for them, and Cornifer the same. His wife seemed just as invested in her own way.

Lemm gives up on the journal and sets it down on the table with a quiet sigh. He rests his chin on his hands, and he lets his thoughts wander.

[focusedvoid]

If they could speak, perhaps they could do more. Lemm had her sing. Or perhaps it's only their presence, and not their silence--

They push that concern away.

Between spoonfuls, the Knight feels a different, more fair concern rise, in the opposite way of his. They don't want Lemm to feel that he has to stay.

They promised, though, that they would not push him to do as he disliked. They can't force him in either direction.

It does, indeed, take a while. A few times, Myla interrupts with a murmur, a few bars of music, a word about the dark. They wait until she's done talking to keep going.

"D-did you get hurt?" Myla asks unexpectedly, only a little left in the bottom of the bowl.

She's looking at them. Afraid, clearly, as though--they'll do something, if displeased. But...at them, without squirming or hiding.

Numbly, they shake their head.

She retreats back into herself.

It takes a few moments for them to help her finish the rest.