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]

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.

[capitalcurator]

Can't lose face to that look if he keeps his eyes on the map!

Lemm thinks a while. He picks up the journal he left here earlier, sitting it on the edge of their map like a paperweight without really thinking, and fetches his pen to use as a pointer. Several places are considered and discarded in quick succession.

He taps Blue Lake, though his nib noticeably picks out the eastern beach. A glance up to see what they think. Likely they've already considered this one.

[focusedvoid]

I already did once. It was uncomfortable to wake with parts under water. I'll try again if there's nothing else viable. away from the Resting Grounds.

There are empty places in Hallownest, but are they empty of survivors? That's what the Knight fears most. The pulling they'd done, shells tearing outward as Void returned to them, it would be so easy to do again.

Their stare--glare--settles on the Ancient Basin. They set their paw above the White Palace's remains. There likely isn't anyone living there, with the state of the retainers and the difficulty reaching it.

[capitalcurator]

Not there, then, they should be comfortable - and not sleeping near a graveyard is understandable. He scans the map again.

He perks up when they point, and it takes him a moment to register -

- Flashes of their history as they've told it, of the Pale King, of things done. His memory is very good. His patience for entertaining bad ideas is not.

Lemm catches their paw and lifts it off the map straight away, matter-of-fact as he gives a simple shake of the head. No. Not there.

He thinks. Not the City, too wet. The Fungal Wastes - bad air. Kingdom's Edge absolutely not, no. He hovers his pen over the jagged edges of Crystal Peak, briefly wondering if there are places that - ah. No. Not that either, even if it's nearby.

(He does not register yet that he is still holding their paw. Might have slipped his mind.)

Lemm taps the cargo lift zone in the Forgotten Crossroads. He's running out of ideas already. There are places on the map he hasn't been, even if they have.

[focusedvoid]

Lemm doesn't explain why. They decide they aren't going to be stubborn enough to argue, lightly squeezing his hand back.

Their free claws draw over the drop. No, they'd melt down the whole thing. Also, the Snail Shaman is there, and they certainly don't want to accidentally lash out at them somehow.

They eventually drift back to the Ancient Basin. They gesture loosely to--alright, not the Abyss, they almost certainly won't react well should any of the Lord of Shades rouse there, but to the tunnels on its left. (Their Lost Kin is still marked by a shiny red pin.) It wouldn't be the most comfortable place to rest, but it'd still be better than around anyone, and past spikes to keep from interruptions.

[capitalcurator]

Yes, yes, understandable. He doesn't know of the Shaman but he understands the height.

...There is a little winged figure around where they're pointing now. Looks like a City Crest, somewhat. He hasn't been there.

Lemm leans back and strokes at his beard, and gives a soft, uneasy grunt. He's not keen, it's so far. But he hasn't been there, doesn't know what that place looks like, so maybe it's some secluded safe place.

He runs a mental comparison. If he'd been here, then there must be...

"How'd you get over there?" he asks, still hushed.

[focusedvoid]

It's impossible without the Crystal Heart or wings.
-Even those with wings have no need to go past the spikes, as there they pause in writing for a moment, considering their words. Their lost sibling won't know if they call them not of interest, but they would feel guilt besides. --doesn't appear to contain much of interest.

They make a line with their claw above the long tunnel of spikes. See, defense as well as space.

[capitalcurator]

"I don't-"

have those.

Lemm curbs himself a little too late. His hands come together again, fidgeting. His claws scratch distractedly at his palms. He tries again.

"Don't like you going where no one can get to you." He looks up. Yes, it's not his place. They can sleep where they choose. And they will. Nothing he can do.

He is saying it anyway.

[focusedvoid]

...Ah.

Their own paws come together, quietly staring at the quill between them for a while.

Simply telling him that they'll be fine doesn't sit well. Not after how they've demonstrated they're significantly not at the moment, and not after they were terribly upset with him for dismissing himself. Disregarding how they're afraid of their own self isn't better than Lemm disregarding outside threats to himself.

It would still keep me from potentially injuring anyone else, they write, each line and curve coming slow. I didn't only hurt Myla. I ripped the Fools apart, Lemm, from the inside out. I do not know how badly I might react when I already don't know am experiencing stress. I don't want to do that to any accidental wanderers. I don't want to potentially strike you down if I jolt awake.

I'm sorry.

[capitalcurator]

It is difficult to read this. Lemm fiddles with his hands the whole time, lacing his fingers together and ticking them arrhythmically. No relics to clean and nothing to translate, just reading to do. It doesn't take long. But it's hard.

He looks away for a moment, mind obviously wrangling this information as his gaze flicks from one spot on the table to another.

Lemm is not qualified to offer reassurances of what a Higher Being may or may not do, accidentally or not, asleep or not. It's not even a known biology, isn't predictable, isn't a topic of study that coincides with his (or anyone's as far as he knows). It would be an empty platitude to make claims without knowing what he's talking about, and without a single doubt he does not.

But his eyes linger on the way they used his name, the way it looks in someone else's handwriting, their handwriting. He wishes he feared normal things like the dark or the dead or plagued kingdoms or Higher Beings more than he feared admitting this. But needs must.

"I can't reassure you how I'd like, Knight," he admits, holding up a hand. "S'all bigger than me, and I know it well. I'm just a bug. But I can't watch you swear off people like you mean to make it a habit." Lemm tries to meet their gaze as best he can, ignoring the way his shell crawls. "It'll rot you."

[focusedvoid]

The Knight's empty eyes meet his gaze square. Is that what it seems like?

...Is that what they're doing?

I don't have plans for that. I don't have much plan for anything, they admit, and stare at the paper, trying to pull together thoughts to language to text.

They've done it before. Even in Hallownest, to some degree. Cast out for whatever they might be, strange and disliked, they decided enough was enough, whether others were correct or not about their presence as a bad omen, an emptied-out shadow. In truth, partly what they were doing before slowly growing their connections through this place. Lemm's fear for them, and Dirtmouth's concern, have truly shaken them into realizing how much that's changed in so little time.

I'm not considering swearing off anyone. I simply know I need to learn safely. I don't need to worry for myself., in the physical. I want to adjust to whatever I'm capable of without fearing too much that I might kill or something else irreversible.
That's why I would prefer not to be easily found for at least this attempt at sleep. I'm not going to hide from everyone forever.

(...Lemm asked, once, in a moment that felt vulnerable like this--)

I'll come back. I promise.

[capitalcurator]

He knows the first part, no one plans these things. He certainly didn't.

But their words make sense. He knows they do, the Knight is terrified and they need space.

...Straight to his heart, that little promise. What little there is of Lemm's composure amid fidgeting and restlessness buckles, and he finds he trusts them. He can allow it.

"...Be sure that you do," he says, very seriously. "Alright. Just once. You'll go by yourself just this once, do you hear? And you won't make it a habit. Get yourself some proper rest and then you'll come back..."

Lemm sets down his pen. He opens his arms, an obvious invitation if there ever was one.

[focusedvoid]

The Knight promptly dashes into his arms, lightly rattling the table, face pressing flat into his shoulder. Maybe a subconscious piece of them was hoping for this, as much as they weren't expecting it.

They know he doesn't mean how they often go off on their own, wandering. Different schedules, as he's said in the past. But the important part is they'll refuse to break their promise. They'll come back to Lemm, and they'll keep doing so as long as they are able; this is sworn, for all that none can hear it.

[capitalcurator]

He is surprised at how easy it is. But not so much that he delays in wrapping them tightly in his arms, tucking them as close as they'll fit.

Lemm sighs, all the tension draining out of him.

Too easy to be earnest with the Knight. He finds he doesn't mind.

"Thank you," he murmurs into their shoulder. "Just - needed that promise, I think. Needed this. You'll be alright, I know you will."

He gives them a tight squeeze. It's just as much for him as it is for them. Second hug in... oh, a long time. He means to make it count.

[focusedvoid]

Myla's asleep. The shift change won't be too soon. They can't hang in his grip forever, but they can let it last a while.

Apologizing again would be too much, no matter strongly as the urge to do so strikes. They rub a paw along the bit of back they can reach in a slightly clumsy attempt at comfort in its place.

[capitalcurator]

It works as intended. It is a lot, to look for comfort and find it freely given. Reciprocated even, because he wants the Knight to feel safe with him more than anything. But that they'd go out of their way...

They'll feel the tiniest, most stifled shudder, and Lemm inhales slowly just to keep those thoughts from overflowing. A shaky exhale. He very gingerly loosens his grip, but only to make this more sustainable than holding them so tight his arms might go stiff.

"You'll be alright," he says again, and he sounds like he steadfastly believes it. "It'll be easier after a rest, you know - everything is. You'll solve it somehow."

[focusedvoid]

They nod against his shoulder, and, after a moment's hesitation, nod again. Rest is just what they need, that makes them healthier in mind as well as body. And they've gone against worse odds than this. They've fought a god that killed countless and despised them personally; they won against her, and they can win against themselves. They're proud of their own control with Nail, after all.

That thought digs in their mind a while. Long enough to take root.

Once they pull back from the hug--only partly--they choose to elaborate, in crooked text on the paper they don't bother dragging all the way from the table. Staying in his arms leaves their writing at a terrible angle. They manage it.

Rest and I just need practice. Ive been used to what Ive known (like using Nail) for so long and picking certain skills up quickly, I may have forgotten to fully think through the concept.

Thank you.