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]

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.

[capitalcurator]

(He does not know what she's been like, and it does not cross his mind yet that her little musical session may have been unusual. As far as Lemm is concerned, it just wasn't a disaster, and that's all there is to consider.)

...The shop always smells a little damp. It didn't register at the time, but now he thinks back to it, Cornifer being in his shop as a friend of the Knight (and not as a passer-by) and looking around like that... It's only from the memory of it, but he feels strangely scrutinised. Maybe he should use the stove more for proper reasons, stop leaning so much on foraging and curing. Might make the shop smell less like damp, if nothing else.

The sound of Myla's voice shakes him out of his thoughts, and it takes everything he has not to snap up and look in her direction. His stare is aimed squarely down at the table instead.

It's only when things go totally quiet again that Lemm feels it's appropriate to look up again, and only to give the Knight a short, evaluative look to see how they're faring. It must be difficult. Even he knows that.

[focusedvoid]

After they give the last little bit, they automatically tuck the blankets closer around her, keeping her upright. Lying down isn't good for a while after eating.

And then just...take a moment, sitting there, mixed emotions dragging through their chest. They might've forgotten Lemm is here.

[capitalcurator]

...Lemm takes it they need a moment.

He turns back to the table and the abandoned journal, gazing vacantly down and folding his arms against the cool surface.

Eventually he digs Myla's transcription back out and reads it back over. He hadn't realised his nerves had bled into his handwriting so much, but they're legible, if a little rushed here and there.

He'll just... busy himself reading that. The Knight can kick him out decide what to do with him when they're ready.

[focusedvoid]

...Perhaps they should get some rest. They've been afraid of themselves and overprotective of Myla. Others in Dirtmouth won't be dangerous to her. And if they're the problem...they don't want to make her worse.

--Lemm is still here. They visibly startle when they look up and notice.

They wave awkwardly, apologetic, and beckon Grimmchild to settle next to Myla as they hop down.

I believe you're correct about my needing rest. I should go arrange things for longer term with some of the town. Would you mind watching over her for a moment longer?

[capitalcurator]

He glances up when he catches movement to meet their unsettled little greeting, and raises a hand from the paper at them in response. He stops hovering over the page and sets it down to give them his proper attention.

There is a brief glance over at Myla, judging whether or not it's appropriate to keep speaking or switch back to notes. With the way she just doesn't seem compelled to look at anything it's hard to tell whether she's asleep or just resting her eyes. Lemm opts for a very soft tone, and keeps it short. Testing the waters. If the Knight gives the sign, his hand is already toying with his quill.

"I am," he agrees. "You haven't looked well." Softly said, but blunt as ever. "Go ahead. I'll stay. Will you be seeing her?" He flicks his horn in the direction of the soup pot.

[focusedvoid]

They dip their head, leaving it bowed for a while longer than usual in contrition.

Myla doesn't move. Lemm is judged as quiet enough.

Iselda? She's who brought the food. Cornifer cooked it. I believe they wouldn't mind, and are capable. They write this more to settle twisting where their stomach should be than to explain to Lemm. They're kind enough, and while Cornifer could potentially wander, Iselda won't. The pair won't panic where Elderbug might, and they're not as suspicious as the Knight finds Sly.

[capitalcurator]

"Anyone can see they wouldn't mind, Knight." He doesn't have to be personally familiar with that sentiment to see it. The two he's spoken to have almost told him as much, just by the way they've talked about the Knight.

Conflicted, he glances at the door.

"I've little reason to hurry back, either. You... take care. I'll be here."

[focusedvoid]

...They're being ridiculous.

With another awkward nod, they slip away, Grimmchild appearing to swoop out just before the door can shut on their tail.

Iselda and Cornifer are completely glad to help, and Cornifer's kind enough to offer his bunk. They decline out of necessity, but manage to write out, in text that wobbles somewhat, how they appreciate the thought. Next meal--no, not the next meal to be delivered, the next meal, period, as the soup was delivered for more than one, perfectly suitable even left out for a little while--the Knight is to leave for the two to take over.

In the meantime, Myla slips fully into sleep with barely a hum.

They're back as quickly as they were hoping would happen last time, scant body language less obviously distressed.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm takes to pacing.

He's not as desperate for a walk as he could be, considering he's shut into someone else's space and anxious and there's nothing physically keeping him here but his own conscience. A little restless, maybe.

But in all honesty he wants to stay.

In Hallownest, as well. No matter who moves in or how it changes, and he is sure now that it will. He might be able to tolerate neighbours. Learn to, at least. If mistakes are... if they're allowed, if he's allowed to make those. And often.

(He refuses to make a mistake here! Every other moment is spent restlessly checking on Myla. She seems like a nice girl, not that he knows her outside of half-present delirium. She must be if the Knight cares so much.)

When the Knight returns Lemm is by a window, the curtain pulled just enough to gaze out at Dirtmouth. He drops it back into place when he hears the door and hurries to meet them halfway, fidgeting with his hands.

He doesn't know exactly why he does this, or what to say when he's within murmuring distance.

"Um. She's been quiet," he reports, for lack of anything else. "Peaceful I think. Did it go well?"

[focusedvoid]

The Knight stops dead, panic rising--but no, it's fine. They nod quickly.

Grimmchild drifts around to look at Lemm with placid interest as paper it taken out.

Yes. The beginning of shifts are established.

I apologize for the preoccupation. I doubt I'll be able to make it to any expeditions you might've thought of very soon. It hasn't been their most pressing thought, but it vaguely occurred to them after Cornifer brought proof of Lemm's survival.

[capitalcurator]

(...His eyes flick to Grimmchild by accident and quickly away again, but ah. They were definitely looking right at him. Stay on track...)

It'd be too easy to think them silly for not delegating earlier, but he is thinly aware he wouldn't have thought to do it either. It would be hypocritical to judge. The progress gets an approving nod.

"...What?"

Oh, that. Their mind really does meander all over the place. Lemm is quick to shake his head, almost frantic.

"I don't care about that -" He catches himself about to verge up in volume because he's trying to insist, and hurriedly reminds himself to stay at a murmur. "Didn't cross my mind, I mean..."

The Knight is treated to watching the gears grind in his head as he gives a light huff and folds his arms, trying to produce a good way of expressing himself without coming across as standoffish. He taps a finger on his arm.

"...Right now I care far more that you stop burning the candle at both ends," he explains quietly. That'll do. "What's next?"

[focusedvoid]

That's fair enough. He--he cares, and they've given him more than enough concern for now. He cares and he knows them enough to, properly. And they're going to stop thinking about this before they feel like they need to curl up in his arms again.

They Knight distracts from those thoughts by lifting a paw to tap over one of his hands in thanks and, still, apology. They truly don't want to leave him restless, but Myla's health is a far more pressing issue.

After that, his question gets a tiny half-shrug in response.

I'll keep waiting and watching over Myla for a time. I think they need to make some arrangements for their shop? There aren't too many buying maps currently. Then I'll go find somewhere to sleep without making trouble/mess. Somewhere very far away from anyone else. They'll need to consider logistics of what the emptiest part of Hallownest might be.

[capitalcurator]

The overthinking stops when they touch his hand, as evidenced by the way his posture shifts far more neutral in a blink. He unfolds his arms like he's going to take their paw, but the moment passes too quickly. Subconsciously he fiddles with his own hands instead.

"That can't take long. I'll wait with you."

He can do better. He's been getting better at this, and he pushes himself a bit.

A glance at Myla, a short review of what he knows. Right. They don't want to risk it here. That makes sense. Somewhere quiet. Somehow the options feel limited after Hallownest has seemed so risky for so long, and it's still surprising them (see: Goam!) and sleeping is... He'd never let anyone see him like that.

...Lemm glances aside, calculating. Things are changing. He's not sure of his old fears any more.

"I can be lookout," he offers, and suddenly his voice is smaller than it needs to be just for Myla. It is familiar and unpleasant to say. He risks it anyway.

[focusedvoid]

They might've been irritated by his hovering if they weren't already emotionally wrung-out. The waiting is his choice.

But their immediate response to that last suggestion is to shake their head, sharply. No no no.

No. I don't want to accidentally hurt you.
I didnt the last time but I don't know if anything might have changed with the Lord of Shades.

[capitalcurator]

Of course.

No, that's not fair and he knows it, this is different, completely, they have their own problems - this has nothing to do with him, they're going through a lot. Lemm fights not to look hurt with relatively neutral results. He settles on avoiding eye contact just in case.

"Sure." He'll accept their decision. Doesn't mean he can't explain himself. "Just thought it might be a helpful suggestion." A pause. "Sorry. Silly of me. I wasn't thinking. But I'll help you find somewhere. Leave you to it. We'll look at the map."

[focusedvoid]

They hesitate a moment. He's worried. He's uncomfortable? They can't read it. Nor can they can't change their fear of what they might do, no matter that they've somewhat better come to grips with their mistake. They'd never hurt him consciously, but unconsciousness is the entire concept of sleep.

Planning. Yes, a good idea. At least it'll give something for the pair of them to focus on. The house is small enough it's only a leap and a flutter to reach the new table.

They stop.

Unfolded, the table reaches somewhat above their head.

...They jump onto it and wait until it stops shaking to settle in the middle. The worst it can do is break and fling them off.

It has room to unfurl their map in front of them, and they do so, patting it for Lemm to come peer at.

[capitalcurator]

Despite himself, Lemm does understand. He pushed his point earlier that their fears were ordinary, or at least that he recognised them, and it would do no good to dismiss them now as insignificant. He will get over it, and quickly. Just a small miscalculation.

The flicker of wings at least draws his attention from old discomforts, and he snaps out of it just in time to see the table wobble.

He lunges, bracing the edge of the table with both hands and some measure of alarm before realising belatedly there was never any danger in the first place, and he'd have been too late regardless. This would hardly have been the equivalent of a relic dropping from a high shelf.

Lemm takes his hands back, more than a bit frazzled. There is a glance at Myla, in case the soft rattle disturbed her. When the Knight takes out their map he returns to the same pillow he took earlier and kneels. Time to pretend that didn't happen.

[focusedvoid]

The Knight isn't going to pretend that didn't happen.

(Myla isn't bothered, fortunately. Grimmchild's grumblings when they keep by her are louder, and they go settle there for the moment. They like being over there. The nest is warm, and the nightmares are easy to snap up.)

You might want to get some rest as well.

[capitalcurator]

Oh, right, just call him out...

Lemm dusts away their concern with an irritated flap of the hand. He's not tired. He's highly-strung.

"Thought you'd fall. 'M fine." He taps the map with a finger, trying to move them on. "Any thoughts? Plenty of empty space around, but I wouldn't know how much you need. More than a Stag Station."

[focusedvoid]

Several responses are formulated and discarded. Pushing here likely won't convince him. Telling him of worse falls they've survived would be rude and possibly increase stress. They settle on giving him a long look.

Somewhere without many drops to spill over. Or people.