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

[impure_void]

Present. Yes. Their head jerks in a nod. They see him. They understand they are not with Her. This was different.

Do you see. They look up, but fail to. The City buildings are towering. It must have been--

--the capital was said to be beautiful, though paling in comparison to the White Palace. The shining windows, a number high above broken, glint and gape beneath the rain as though staring.

It is too much for one un-travelled Vessel to absorb.

It doesn't matter; that isn't a question that requires response. This bug will be leading them. They accept his terms: there is no rush, but neither is there enough need to keep him waiting in the torrent. They clamp down on their nameless emotion like a vice.

Standing goes no faster or easily than the last attempt. The Hollow Knight's functioning eye continues to be focused on Lemm the whole time.

[capitalcurator]

He could damage them worse if he tried to help. They could damage him if they took dislike to being touched. Best not.

Lemm keeps eye contact, head tilting to track them as they rise. (It's like watching someone handle a particularly delicate artifact and worrying they might drop it. Only worse, somehow.)

"...Aye, there," he says, once he's sure they're stable. "Come then - with me. Lift's over this way."

Lemm steps out and walks backwards a little way to keep their attention, drifting off to the side so that if they keep eye contact they'll be looking away from the memorial statue. While he waits for them to follow, he falls back on a more comfortable habit: chatting.

"Now, I don't expect many guests, so I'll warn you now: you won't find yourself in the lap of luxury in my shop, and I'll not apologise for it. But you're welcome enough as long as you mind yourself. I know well who you are - but I'll not have anything knocked over, understand."

...It's easier to act this way if he forces himself to frame them as his friend's sibling and not The Hollow Knight. It's an active effort, nonetheless.

[impure_void]

The Hollow Knight's eye remains fixed on his back the whole time.

They need to fold inward to fit into the lift, and later, the shop. They're used to it. Deepnest could not change its shape for one so tall.

They listen dully.

No, not dully. They simply listen. They may need knowledge to better excecated orders later. Another thing their time in Deepnest has primed them for, when Hallownest--could not.

They shrink further inward, away from the cluttered walls with many objects to potentially bump into. Their Nail is set flat beside their existent arm, its point protruding behind them through the door.

They are uncertain what the knowledge of who they are could be from. Few are alive enough to speak of them. Fewer still make their way outside of Herrah's domain enough to spread knowledge.

...Perhaps they're known from that memorial.

The Hollow Knight does not shudder, does not breathe, does not anything.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm allows them what little space he can afford, subconsciously watching that they keep their Nail within the confines of the lift on the way up, and chattering the whole time. (About rain. One time the lift got stuck. The building layout. Dull things, anything that feels inconsequential and fills the time.)

"Ah, as I've said, careful around my collection! I'm a Relic Seeker, s'my job to know - a few things," he seizes the tray of notes from his counter and tucks it sharply into a drawer, "so I've made Hallownest my business, might seem odd to you but that's... hm, the way things go..."

Most of his shop has been shade-child-proofed, in a roundabout, mostly-guesswork way. A lot of the pointier stuff has been moved elsewhere, or else to the very back of the higher shelves. The smaller Knight's aversion to Pale King imagery has been taken note of in the Relic Seeker's awkward, quiet way, and most of that has been moved or tucked into drawers. There are still pieces he missed here and there, but likely his visible collection would be saturated with spiky crown-shapes had he not tried. (None of this has yet proved its purpose, because the Knight has been busy and their siblings have stayed hidden when they've visited. It's a just-in-case measure. He has no plans to make mention of it, either way.)

...Lemm sets to transferring a messy pile of stone journals from a set of shelves by the door to the floor behind his desk, and swipes an arm over the cleared surface to sweep off most of the dust they left behind. It's flat, and about the right height for someone the Hollow Knight's size to comfortably sit down on by Lemm's estimate. (He's not having them sit on the counter. Slightly too low and anyway that's... someone else's place, in the back of his mind.)

He hums uncertainly, stepping back. "S'that alright for you? I've a cushion or two somewhere if you'd prefer."

Shadelord below he is being so hospitable. What's gotten into him.

[impure_void]

They're watching him, standing order as frantic anchor, without truly absorbing his actions. How he chooses to organize his dwelling is not the Hollow Knight's business.

Their place is functional. The light ache of their knees is nothing and so it goes fully unacknowledged.

Each word given is tucked away, and two ring above the others: Relic Seeker.

Now, they know; he knows who they are, and they know who he is. Their Sibling, the King, told them of their excursions together. The blurry images that had drifted through their mind leaves him recognizable.

This is Relic Seeker Lemm.

His rank rises from a survivor, already important, to King's ally: highest priority.

Kneeling on the floor of his shop, with respect and far more gravitas than their smaller sibling ever offered, the Hollow Knight bows to him.

[capitalcurator]

It's only after fussing so much over how to best accommodate that Lemm remembers a vessel's silence, and that it means he has to be actively looking for an answer. He quickly turns around in case he's being signalled or written to, and he's greeted with something very different instead.

"Ah..."

Lemm flinches back. If he wasn't so familiar in his shop he might have turned to see who else they might be addressing this to. He fidgets with a journal, completely caught off guard.

He coughs lightly. "...Now, see here, I know I said I wasn't the welcoming sort, but that doesn't mean my shop's hallowed ground." Lemm gives a quick little beckoning-up gesture, looking terribly awkward. "Up you get. I'll not lean on formalities in my own home, and I don't expect it of you either."

Maybe they're doing it for their own comfort? Lemm quickly decides he doesn't care - it's putting a damper on his. It's almost funny. He'd pay good Geo to see a little humility from some he's met over his lifetime. Not this one though, apparently, because seeing them do this is needling at him fiercely.

[impure_void]

The Hollow Knight eases back into merely kneeling. The ceiling is too low to do much else.

They know few ways to clearly show respect. The loss of this--

--does not matter, does not matter, does not matter. Do not think.

The Hollow Knight has no need to express anything.

He doesn't want it. This should be a rel--this outcome is for the best. The Pure Vessel they continue to imitate would do nothing beyond what is desired of them. That they have fallen out of the habit enough to dare consider, however briefly, that they wish otherwise is--does not matter.

Does not matter merges ever roughly with their other mantras, meant for stability, reminder. Nothing they do has ever mattered.

The Hollow Knight continues to watch.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm hangs back a bit, scratching habitually at his rain-soaked beard. He had no way of knowing what to expect; respect wasn't even on the list. Ambivalence might have been, but not total inaction like this.

He feels terribly awkward, now. Yes, invite them here where you have nothing to offer. Expected to be better at this by now, did we? And it seems too tight in here for them, well done indeed.

Stubborn to the absolute, Lemm refuses to be defeated even now. They're out of the rain. That has to count for something. He tears himself away and paces into the back room, restless.

"I'm making tea," he declares loud enough for them to hear. He is leaving a trail of water all over his floor, and the Hollow Knight's cloak isn't much better. Let the Knight never find out the concessions he's making for their sibling! "I hear you types don't go in for eating or drinking, but maybe I'll get you something to warm your hand..." ...Almost dropped a plural there.

There is a series of muffled rummaging sounds and the occasional thud from beyond the curtain as Lemm goes aggressively hunting through his stuff. He may be taking out a bit of personal frustration back there.

[impure_void]

The Hollow Knight's head is unmoving even as he leaves, angled just right to watch with their functional eye. The room is small. The shop, that's what this is. A shop that works backwards, from what they believed they knew of shops.

Relic Seeker Lemm is now out of sight. They look to the nearest cluster of journals and watch the words swim before their head starts to spin.

They have no order to read, only to wait and receive tea. No matter they do not require the offered warmth.

A stream of water pours from their sleeve to run off their claws. They twitch under their dropped gaze. The points press, just barely, into the floor.

[capitalcurator]

Rattling around in the other room does Lemm some good; even a few moments to collect himself and decide how to proceed are enough to get him back on track. When he sweeps out of the back again, he's dragging a stepladder with a thick, heavy pile of material on it, and pauses only to deposit a large-ish cushion beside the Hollow Knight.

"As you like," he directs vaguely, and nods a horn at the pooling wet. "Might avoid that though."

While the stove heats, he busies himself at the window putting up an old curtain, one he'd pulled down as soon as he moved in. The less they see of that statue, he thinks maybe the better. (Among... other reasons he's not sure on.)

"As I said I won't be entertaining any formalities, even if I'm one of the few who might be versed in the particulars now," he talks over his shoulder. "These things never suited me very well. I'll bank on you getting used to that." He turns to look at them for a moment, guarded, long curtains draped from his arms. "...If it's all the same to you?"

[impure_void]

Movement slow, as though their mask is twice the weight than just moments earlier, their head shifts from a stare at their hand to instead do so at the cushion. Then it twitches up to look to Relic Seeker Lemm.

They do not need it.

It is being offered.

They should hold no care either way, and still their shell crawls with sensation they have come to know only recently.

It does not matter.

From kneeling to shifting, their full weight, hip-first, tilts onto the cushion 'til they're sitting on it sideways, legs curling like the dead until they fit in a way that should leave their gifted cloak from being further strained. The hardest-shelled of spiders do not have the pointed joints a grown Vessel does.

They turn their mask back up at him.

It should not matter. He does not want such things.

It is not the same to them.

They lived enough of a falsehood that one more should be of little import.

Perhaps that is why--

The Hollow Knight is, once again, motionless.

[capitalcurator]

...Well, they're slumped on something soft rather than the cold, hard floor, he supposes that might be a positive. (The Knight hadn't taken well to cushions. Maybe he's gotten it wrong again. Wouldn't surprise him, and anyway nothing he can do unless they tell him so. Matter dismissed.)

More importantly they don't give him anything in the negative, so Lemm decides he's going to assume that's a yes don't worry about it you're completely fine. He gives a vague hm and turns back to the curtain to hook the last of it up.

"...Right."

Shop now a lot dimmer, Lemm descends the stepladder and drags it back through to the back. More things are moved around. There's a faint rattle, some more shuffling.

Lemm returns with two ornate cups with silver handles and a short string of lumafly lights looped over his arm.

"Mind yourself, it's hot," he mutters, and lowers one of the cups to indicate the Hollow Knight should take it. "My calling mostly has me keeping my own company, but I've found myself with a number of faces to hear me speak lately, and now yours. I'll admit I'm at a bit of a loss. Not much of an entertainer." A thought occurs to him, and he gives them a curious look. "...Still. If I'm to guess, you wouldn't have done much in the way of domestic visits, might that be right?"

[impure_void]

(Fortunately, the Hollow Knight is large enough that cumbersome cushions aren't a problem for them like their smaller sibling.)

Time to heal and prompts to adjust their given nest in Deepnest allowed their claws to steady. They've never had reason to hold a teacup, however, and avoid dipping into memories of hands that aren't their own. The Relic Seeker expects them to take it now. Few match theirs in scale, besides.

With awkward, unfamiliar movements, their thickest claw on the end slips into the handle. The others curl around until it's wrapped within the rest, suffusing the heat through it to their shell.

A question, and a response of a barely-shaken head. Never. Not in the White Palace, not in Deepnest. The latter was too long to count as a 'visit' no matter how it was temporary.

Domestic visits do not consist of one being held in a back room to be kept out of the way. Domestic visits are not for--were not meant for Vessels, and are not for the Hollow Knight.

Until now. By Relic Seeker Lemm's choice.

Steam rises from the liquid to twist about their mask. They hold the cup a little further out.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm finds himself holding the cup steady until they seem to have a proper grip. They seem so careful. Or clumsy, and making up for it. He's too interested in their reply to pursue that thought.

"I won't be the only one stumbling my way through this interaction, then," he concludes, and there's a hint in his voice that suggests he's not displeased. "We've both had little practice."

He doesn't dig any further; that's really all he wanted to know. (For now, anyway. They're in no state to be subjected to a Relic Seeker's full scrutiny, even he knows that.)

Lemm drapes the string of lights over the counter with relatively little care for how they look, as long as they pool a little light in the room where the dim stuff coming in through the door doesn't reach. He goes to take his usual seat, and leans comfortably on the counter with his tea resting between both hands. This feels more normal. Or like it should feel normal. Lemm doesn't have much experience inviting someone to tea (he's not fond of how terribly twee that sounds), incidental or otherwise, but it's fine, because apparently the Hollow Knight is not accustomed to being invited.

He delves into a drawer and pulls out some clean paper and his old quill, and slides them away from him on the desk, just in case. He finds he doesn't expect them to use it, but it feels ruder not to put any out. Relic Seeker Lemm, hunter of relics and explorer of Vessel Etiquette.

"Seems silly to ask you what you'll be doing next, since you've already claimed not to have plans. But sillier still to ask if you've an interest in Hallownest antiques, isn't it? So." He takes a sip. "What will you do?"

[impure_void]

This is--

They believed any other bug to understand more than they, untaught by design. This information is struggled with before they remind themselves it doesn't require their thought. It is information to be absorbed and stowed away.

They are not as mindless as would have been optimal. The paper and quill and their likely purpose are comprehended.

The Hollow Knight's claws wrap around the cup further. A single occupied hand cannot write unless he commands them such directly.

And he can. They will not resist. They--they would want to. They would be sickened equally by that wish to refuse and the order to comply with. But they would not. They would never.

Still, the question posed is not yes-or-no. They do not have plans or ideas. Such things are faulty.

After a long amount of frozen nothing, they faintly shift the held cup in the Relic Seeker's direction. It isn't their choice.

[capitalcurator]

Naturally he has no idea what nuance he's meant to draw from that. This is fine. It's getting easier to lapse back into old habits, of doing all the talking and only half-expecting responses. Not the sort of thing that puts him off.

"I'll guess that means you don't know," he casually decides. "You wouldn't be the first."

Lemm studies them a moment. He doesn't find what he's looking for on their expressionless mask, but that doesn't mean it's not there.

"Maybe you'll find a hobby," he advises, offhandedly, and immediately changes the subject. "By the way, and this is my business - you don't suppose any of your friends over in Deepnest are going to come looking for trouble from me for taking up your time, do you? Only I don't fancy myself in question with Queen Herrah's lot."

[impure_void]

Are they not.

Their King-sibling may have explained, fully, what they are. Or they had not. They are the only living Vessel with no purpose. One of two. One risen, one fallen, while the circumstances of their ascension in their Birthplace was intended to be different.

(They should not know this. That Ghost of Hallownest is a sibling left behind, one they turned to look at, but the new Lord of Shades holds less control over their Void than they realize. The Pure Vessel had forgotten. Until the rest of their shell crumbles and dissolves back to Shade and nothing, the Hollow Knight never will.)

A hobby. The subject change would be welcome, if they stopped to think about it. a hobby. They barely know what such consists of.

Once again, the massive mask shakes. They were meant to leave. None should be searching this time.

[capitalcurator]

He looks relieved. Easy question, easy answer. That does take the hidden worries out of smuggling the Hollow Knight back to his shop, not that that's actually what he thought he was doing at the time.

"Good. I've had enough of misunderstandings."

He nurses his tea for a while, thoughtful. Eventually he can't help it; he circles back around to his singular hobby.

"We have time for silly questions, then. Have you met a Relic Seeker before?" He's interested to know if they were prevalent back then, yes, but this takes a back seat. Lemm is far more interested to start telling them about it.

[impure_void]

They watch the steam rise between they and the Relic Seeker. His form wavers in clarity.

They are given another simple question.

If any had come to the White Palace, their visit and title were not important enough to be announced in the Hollow Knight's presence. They shake their head.

[capitalcurator]

Excellent!

...Ahem.

In a composed and ordinary manner Lemm takes another drink of his tea and gestures behind him, at the shelves.

"Collector, historian, partial anthropologist." A thought occurs to him, then, and somewhat belatedly he adds a fourth to the list: "...Chronicler. As I said, I've chosen Hallownest."

Time for the difficult admission, but it needs admitting. Lemm flashes the Hollow Knight a rather frank look.

"You've been a subject of mine, yourself, Hollow Knight. For a long time in fact. But I won't press you for information," he's quick to add, and shakes his head decisively. "I told myself bringing you in here I'd do nothing of the sort, and I'm sticking to it. We're not here for my business. It'd just feel disingenuous not to tell you, wouldn't it? Dishonest, maybe."

Does this bother them? Lemm watches very closely.

[impure_void]

This is an odd thing to be told. He needn't bother telling them at all, but that is what's happening, and so they give it due attention.

They are not a worthy subject to study. They were not part of Hallownest but for their part through failure. Perhaps, if he wishes to study its ruination--

The teacup trembles and lowers slightly, and their gaze along with it.

--he does not.

(Not now.)

As they must, the Hollow Knight accepts it.

[capitalcurator]

It may be the first subtlety of theirs that he catches, but he catches it nonetheless. Something about the information bothers them, or at least surprises them.

This isn't shocking, he supposes. Normal enough of a reaction to finding out someone you've never met has an academic interest in your life.

"Well no one can accuse me of not being forthcoming," he says matter-of-factly. "Imagine you wondering why I know so much! No, better I told you now."

Maybe. It's not like there's precedent, he just has to hope straightforward is best. Feels like it, though...

"Pah! Enough, I've plenty of work to do." Lemm rises from his seat and sets down his cup half-finished. "You'll have to excuse my getting back to it, but I have my collection to think about. Are you comfortable there? And don't pretend - that sibling of yours would sooner watch me sit there embarrassed than admit they're not keen on a seat, and I won't have the fuss from two of you."

[impure_void]

Lying in Deepnest, the Hollow Knight lacked the agony of the Oldlight to distract them from themselves.

This is not a curse. No matter the concequence to themselves, they will never stop being grateful for Her end.

Still, this was the first time they were given much time truly alone.

Without endlessly struggling to hold Her in, no amount of cringing from emotion allowed them to escape them. They were cowardly, and knew it, when they tried regardless.

They were still unskilled at identifying much by name. Instead, they sorted categories.

When Princess Hornet appeared to silently pull blankets over their unresponsive form, there was a specific crawling they felt beneath the marred shell of their chest. It was distant from anger, and that is all they know.

They avoid prodding to further identify it, but now they're aware she can do so, and Relic Seeker Lemm can as well with action and shared word.

Physically, they are more comfortable than crouching in the water outside. Their answering nod comes stiffly.

Their cup is lowered further, uncertain if they should do the same. They catch the reflection of their cracked mask in the tea's surface and look away.

[capitalcurator]

He flags a hand at their cup and gives a dismissive shake of the head. "No, no, you carry on. And you can keep yourself occupied, goodness knows I'm no entertainer." Lemm sweeps the same hand vaguely around at his shop.

Then he pauses, remembering himself. They may be the Hollow Knight, and he may be extending some courtesies he wouldn't give others. But they're... still a person, in his space.

...Lemm gets a bit more specific with that gesture. "But I'd rather you didn't touch anything from this shelf upward," he instructs. And then again. "Or anything on this half. And no rooting around in drawers! If it's not in the open I don't want it looked at."

Without much of a polite finish to that little ruleset, Lemm huffs and disappears back through the curtain. He will re-emerge in a moment with a mop, but he has to find the stupid thing first.

[impure_void]

In the meantime, the Hollow Knight will do very little.

The rules are accepted and imprinted into their mind.

They do not require entertainment. They will not touch what he does not request they touch. They have this tea, that they cannot consume, which dwindles in temperature until the steam no longer rises from within their claws.