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]

The minute jerk, the way they hold the pen. That's indicator enough that his question landed how he intended.

He lets them steep in it for a moment, but not too long. A moment is enough; longer would be cruel.

"That's you," he concludes, jabbing a finger in their direction, ignoring the sharp stab of a reminder that he was the one to make them feel that way. "You had every right to feel it, and you did! Hurt hurts."

Out-loud acknowledgement that he did hurt them is... hard, too, but necessary.

"And you certainly let me know about it, didn't you? Mind, will, and voice. Never mind what anyone else thinks, or's been led to think - we know better. Getting paraded through a spring let me know better. Being painted in graffiti let me know better, and I wore the proof." Lemm's fingers slip from the paper and he folds his arms, withdrawing slightly to give them space. "Hearing you're cold doesn't make it true. Even if it's all you hear."

[focusedvoid]

They didn't need the reassurance.

They were only--explaining. Confessing.

Still, they realize the sting of insult at Lemm's rough kindness is wrong. It isn't allowed to sway them into an outward snap.

The Knight runs their claws under I know it isn't.

They start to write enough times that there are blots of ink blocking off a chunk of the next line before they truly begin.

I haven't hadn't been able to care about anything for a significant amount of time before now. I have not had family. I have not had friends. I have not had connection to place or person, as a shadow that wandered for so long along the edges of where others are.
My siblings, you, the ones who I met again and again in Hallownest have changed this/reminded me.

[capitalcurator]

He knows it was likely unnecessary, and their insistence as such is not reassuring that he made a good decision. It is a comfortable relief that they do know this, anyway. And that's not why he said it.

Lemm is more patient for them to finish this time.

He doesn't quite know what to say to that. Tentatively, his hand comes to rest beside their paper, palm-up, a silent invitation.

"I didn't say all of that because I thought you hadn't worked it out yourself," he explains. His eyes are fixed on their writing like he's committing it to heart. "I said it because you ought to hear it from someone else. Someone who isn't you."

Still locked on the page, Lemm sighs softly, and with his other hand he taps have not had, have not had, have not had.

"That's why I said it. So you'd have gotten to hear it from someone else. Want you to have that, at least."

[focusedvoid]

Yes.

When their mutual care and friendship was fully realized, there was a reason the Knight described Lemm as used to being overlooked, part of the background: they know what that is. They hadn't intended or expected to have him left believing the same.

It's why they made a point, here, when they normally wouldn't--when they wouldn't have before, when they wouldn't waste time for many others, that he is part of reminding them of the truth already.

And why they know he's likely right. Or he could be, eventually. It's better to have it out and open than hidden in only their own head.

It's better to have someone who assures them when they don't need it than no-one at all.

I'm grateful for you doing it. to remember if ever I forget. No matter how--hopefully--unlikely they feel that will be.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm is content with that response. More than, actually, because the way they've written to him...

"Aye," he mutters, and looks away, if only to gather his thoughts. "Sorry I went about it so clumsily."

...It sinks in slowly, every time. There are a lot of layers for their sentiments to get through and he never handles it gracefully. That they'd talk about connection like that and chase it with a list, and that he would be on it, is a kind reminder that he's going about this the wrong way.

The moment he walked in and saw them sitting there he was hit with the will to - a lot of things. To hurry forward, check them over, fuss - but he'd curbed all of it, made himself be slow and kept his distance. And talked too much, to flatten it. Silly; that hadn't been what they'd needed from him.

"Maybe..." That's the problem with trying it the other way, all his diction goes out of the window. He gives up on it.

Lemm takes his hand off the counter and makes an awkward little beckoning motion towards himself, instead.

[focusedvoid]

They take their head a little, nearly a twitch.

Lemm makes mistakes, which they can accept, but his reaction now isn't one. The raising of the emotion they certainly have wasn't a problem he needs blame for. And they're controlling the negative.

Mostly.

They hesitate, wondering--

...wondering more than they need to.

The Knight shuffles across the counter to settle well within reach; close enough to try leaning in against shell and beard, particularly careful not to catch the latter.

[capitalcurator]

For once the Knight taking a second to respond doesn't give him a spur of doubt, like it so often does, correctly or otherwise. It is within purview that they might simply not want to be bothered with a hug right now, and it's even more likely he just isn't being specific enough. Either is not an issue.

He doesn't have quite enough time to consider clarifying, because they come closer and lean in.

Lemm's arms wrap the Knight and pull them a bit more closely to him, and he gives a soft sigh out at the room.

It feels unfair to invite them into something that traps their writing hand and then come at them with another question, so Lemm manages to convince himself to stay peacably quiet for a time. That's all, until they decide it's enough.

[focusedvoid]

Some might consider this one going on for too long; compared to the last hug (first hug), in Dirtmouth, it's certainly isn't. They're filled with a sensation similar to Shade's been returned, and they've been drained of Soul.

When they pull away, they don't move very far at all. Lemm can likely read between their horns.

This is also why I began our excursions out of sorts. It's been quite some time since I travelled with others, and even longer peaceably.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm initiated this in the hopes it would be for their benefit - their comfort, specifically. And it seems to be accomplishing that goal, which is a relief. But now that it's happening he would be lying if he claimed it wasn't doing much the same for him. Subtly, he dips his head and just barely touches a horn to theirs. The way it feels to hold on so comfortably is carefully archived, safely kept in the same place in his memory that their notes go.

When he lets go, a hand finds its way to the top of their head and rests there for a moment in a quiet, acknowledging way before he pulls back properly and reads from where he's sitting. He seems content with the Knight to sit close in front of him like that, and doesn't move otherwise.

"True enough for me as well. And we'll get back to it, after all this other business of yours is sorted out." He sounds confident it will be. "Though I'd imagine your time will be in high demand. I was right about them liking you up there."

[focusedvoid]

You were. Despite the kind intentions, they tip their head back and nudge him with the dull edge of one horn; they get it, they get it, thank you.

Do you have any exploration thoughts? Or questions about places I've been? Since they're talking about both already.

[capitalcurator]

Slightly flustered by this, Lemm retreats a bit in his seat, folding his arms to close himself off a bit. Getting this way has crept up on him. He would flush, if it were at all possible.

"...No. Yes." What was the question? He clears his throat and starts again. "Aye, plenty. Queen's Gardens I'd like to hear about - have done for some time, in fact. As for a trip..."

That's somewhat more complicated, because there are a lot of places he'd very much like to go, but most of them he suspects are not prudent to mention at the moment because they verge a little too close to the places the Knight does not want them to go.

"Playing my cards safely is quite difficult!" he admits. "Wanted to do some studies in Greenpath, on the pre-Hallownest side of things, but I've not a clue what it's like now the plague is gone. Hive's probably off limits, is it?"

Crystal Peak and Kingdom's Edge, no. Fog Canyon, not allowed. Deepnest, not allowed. Lots of bugs (and other) he's got on a mental list? Not allowed either.

"Lot of places're off limits," he finishes, managing not to sound annoyed.

Lemm has mostly restricted himself, and has also mostly forgotten this fact.

[focusedvoid]

They pull out the map and unfurl it to Queen's Gardens, though they'll answer the other subject first. (They don't hold much love for the place.)

The Hive still needs checking. It was closed off and the Queen Vespa is dead, but they believed she wasn't under Infection. Things may have changed claws there if there were enough survivors, or they may all be dead as well.

The colony-minded types are incredibly resilient--up to a point, in the Knight's experience. Once it tipped past that, they only had themselves to repopulate and rarely let others in, and so the hive or mound or fortress would fall apart in unmatched speed and intensity.

They twist their head around, a single black circle eyeing him. Deepnest, Mantis Village, and Crystal Peak I lack confidence in guiding you through. The first and last are confusing and have tunnels that collapse unpredictably into spikes. The Mantis Tribe I would prefer to avoid politicking/challenging more than necessary.

Greenpath should be simple so long as you can jump well: acid and thorns are its primary threats.
Unn's remaining people don't seem to care about my presence. If need be, I'm easily capable of fending them off.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm resists the urge to grumble about any of this. It's fair, he knows. It's more than fair. This is why he agreed.

A sigh. "Aye, aye. Nothing I didn't expect." He hopes he's allowed to be disappointed. He's not going to pretend. "As always, you're the guide. Believe I've made it clear what I think about you throwing yourself into trouble on my behalf. I know the risks we're minimising, so you can stop looking for dissent."

...They'll catch him staring a little too long at that last part, if they're still looking. He seems to be mulling something over.

"Depends," he reluctantly mutters. He offers nothing else for a while, and when he does it's just what they've already told him, repeated. "Sounds like a lot of leaping about, then, is it?"

[focusedvoid]

Lemm's bother strikes them as baffling, and perhaps a trace stinging.

They eye him a little longer, as though understanding will fall out of his beard. Naturally it doesn't, and neither can they come up with wording to ask after it. He's not refusing, which is most important, they decide.

Yes. Former walkways over acid lakes crumbled long ago, they report. The vines overgrew everything, though most thorns are rotting off. I swept several into acid on the way.

[capitalcurator]

He contemplates that for another moment, then shakes his head - mostly to himself, even if they're still looking.

"Pah, of course," he mutters, a little bit poisonously. "It's to be expected. Hallownest's a wreck as it is without brambles finding their way into the mix. I'll manage," he informs the Knight, as an afterthought when he realises they're probably waiting for confirmation on that.

Lemm sighs with some finality and fusses pre-emptively at his beard, already picturing how the thorns won't agree with it. He'll just have to keep his distance.

"The Kingdom for some solid walkways, hm? Whole place is a shambles. Might have to get in touch with that secret fixer-upper if it's the last thing I do. Maybe that one knows how to make a bridge or two." Said with the venom of someone who might have put that emphasis on a curse word before it instead, if he were so inclined.

[focusedvoid]

Alright. I'll try to get back soon. Even if Myla's situation isn't solved quickly, as much as they hope it is, they're less concerned. They can lead Lemm through Greenpath and leave her in the mapmakers' care for a little longer, should they ask it.

Cold guilt lances their chest at the thought--but if it takes so long, they'll need the relief of wandering, and Lemm likely does all the same.

To the rest, they nod with great emphasis.

...This is an perfect segue to the Queen's Gardens, to the Knight's regret.

They tap the map. (It's more of a slap.) There are many thorns and poor walkways there too. The thorns may or may not be rotting as well. The vertical paths are made of platforms that collapse under one's steps. Traps for intruders/Mantis Traitors? Irritating and dangerous.

[capitalcurator]

"Mm. No hurry." Is what he says, just as a quick little dismissal for the Knight's benefit. He's eager to travel with the Knight again, privately. The way they described Greenpath however means the place itself does not sit quite so enticingly as it could. No matter.

Their little show of disdain gets a faint huff. It's not amusement, even if it could have been a while ago. This is now, and the Knight already informed him of the situation with the Delicate Flower, which decidedly sobers the whole thing.

"Responsive architecture is rare enough when it's used for positive reasons. That sounds loathsome," he agrees. "Can't fathom why they'd put something like that in a garden, a mechanism like that's normally reserved for places designed to bury some grave relic or the like. Perplexing..."

As with so many of Hallownest's architectural decisions.

"Speaking of which, it's a shame to hear it seems just as neglected. I've read it'd have been a grand sight back in the day, not that I know a thing about botany. Anything left under the overgrowth that you saw?"

[focusedvoid]

The White Lady didn't want visitors, they assume.

They nearly keep going on past their own thoughts, but pause.

Why not. They'd like their bitterness known. Pity and disgust war each time they think about either of their royal forbears. Disgust is winning soundly.

A perfect place to hide away from her subjects dying outside while citing guilt for the means to stop the Radiance, all while waiting for a replacement to that failed plan.

If The White Lady wanted better opinions about what she'd done, she could've chosen anything else.

The trellises and greenhouses/buildings and giant vases were ornate and pretty despite overgrowth and disrepair.
There are green flowers double the size of either of us has grown over much of it.

[capitalcurator]

Reading from where he's sitting has given him the unique novelty of seeing all of their words neatly framed by their own horns. As Lemm feels a now-familiar vitriol rear its head, those horns are a useful reminder in the edges of his sights that this is not his topic to be sour about. At least not at the forefront. Maybe he's allowed a reasonable amount of sourness if it stays in support of theirs.

"Aye, not a word you've given is out of turn, I'd think." Yes, that came out rather smoothly, considering. (It's not wise to wage words against gods especially if you're not one, but this is not why he bit his tongue. He shouldn't be taking the space their anger ought to occupy. Among other things. He wants to rail on their behalf but it's not his place.) He moves stiffly on, hoping his agreement is enough.

"Ah..." An arm snakes awkwardly past their side to tap a fingertip at the page. "Greenhouses..." He frowns. "Not for sunlight, not down here. Humidity, or maybe for show... I'm getting carried away already," he realises, and backpedals a notch. "I'd like to see it all, that's the problem. Can't appraise a thing from down here. Even the flowers sound a sight."

...Sigh.

"Sorry. Not fishing to have you take me there, just... living vicariously. Don't mind it, will you? Go on. Anything else?"

[focusedvoid]

They nod. They allow this to slip away before temper rears its head. They fear less that they'll devour Lemm or the like, but they can feel the tips of their Wings trying to cling to the counter. It's been a while since that last happened.

This close, they can't look quickly enough for a simple glance. They need to move their full head to peer up into his face, confusion more obvious. I don't mind, no. But I believe I could bring if I can solve the drop-plates and check for surviving Traitors.

The White Lady could protest his presence, but this doesn't occur to them.

Even if it did, they wouldn't much care for her concern.

They gesture to a particular drawing of a shell. There's a corpse of a giant beast here, overgrown as the rest. I found a few like this throughout Hallownest, but none so openly.

And above it: The White Lady resides in bindings here.

They nearly write you should avoid sentiment, but stop quickly. That isn't necessary. Their dislike of her shouldn't bar him from discovering more history.

The tunnels within are narrow, is what they eventually settle on instead.

[capitalcurator]

He is surprised by that. Shouldn't be, probably. It occurs to him he has fallen into a pattern of assuming the Knight won't take him places.

Isn't it like the Archives? Like Deepnest? If it's dangerous he expected to be deterred from going there. Didn't the Knight die-? Lemm stares back, bewildered, before gathering himself. They hadn't meant never. And they're a capable guard.

"Ah... If you're - confident." Very smooth. He looks out of the window, feeling scrutinised now that they're looking at him so intently and from such close proximity. It's too close and his nerve fails. "I'd like to go. 'S long as you know I'd be careful."

He addresses the rest with a little more confidence.

"Seems the larger bugs and beasts of this place rarely made it into Hallownest's golden age, but evidence is scarce. I'd be eager to see that, as well."

...Why are they telling him about...

Sounding very tentative, Lemm dares to ask.

"You'd not object to my trying for an audience, then? Or am I reading you incorrectly?"

[focusedvoid]

Confident... Near enough. They don't enjoy it, they'd prefer others over the Gardens, but they know he'd find much interest. If the drop-places are fixable. And if the Queen in the gardens hasn't maintained those thorns. That wouldn't be a shock.

So they nod, slow and grave. We'll both be careful. They aren't thinking of their own particular deaths. They're going to need to be...particularly wary. And practice. And do prior extra scouting.

They're working themselves up again. I highly recommend we try Greenpath first.

After his other query, they're close enough he can easily get a sense of their body feeling off.

I do not like the idea, they tell him bluntly. This is my own issue. Her repeated assumptions/dismissals have greatly insulted me.

Their claw reaches up to tap beneath their earlier confession. The White Lady was not the only one to sway them into doubting their own self, but she was certainly part of it.

I do not expect her to treat you well. although this may be incorrect. You are not a Vessel.
She is a valuable resource of Hallownest's past and is unlikely to roam if she has yet to.

[capitalcurator]

"Aye. Greenpath first." (Queen's Gardens sound... daunting. More so! But that's a bridge to cross later, not that Hallownest does bridges very often. Which is the problem.)

Lemm is slow to respond, one finger tapping quietly on the counter while he thinks things through.

He can tell he's pushing it. Or they're pushing themselves. The situation is rather a complicated one to defuse because... he needs his options open, admittedly.

So, backing out and writing off ever meeting people like the Queen or Herrah or whoever isn't an option, not if he wants to be realistic. Pushing harder definitely isn't an option. And he doesn't want to meet these damned people, if he's completely honest it sounds like a recipe for disaster. The problem is he will never get a history he can be satisfied with if he doesn't examine all the working parts.

This should have just meant relics if this Kingdom was actually dead, Lemm testily thinks. Bits of it keep getting back up and talking back. One of them is sitting on his shop counter waiting for an answer right now, incidentally, so he should probably get on with it.

"I'm not -" he starts, and with some stalling he grinds out "- fond of the idea either. And I'm not under any false impressions she'll be inclined to tell me much if I get there. I've got a responsibility to ask if I can, but beyond that..."

Lemm waves a hand, before realising they aren't facing him to see it. It drops.

"...Look, let's put a pin in it - might not even happen, and we're both fussing. S'all up in the air until we know I can do Greenpath, anyway."

[focusedvoid]

After a long pause of processing, the Knight tilts back. And keeps tilting until they're resting against Lemm's shell, backwards this time. They aren't aiming for a hug, though they won't squirm away if he tries.

...They feel as though they owe an apology. What exactly for escapes them.

Yes.
There were many exploding plants and mosskin before. Thankfully, this appears no longer the case, or at least not as easily.

I've been informed Gulka venom is a good intoxicant. There, Lemm, a subject change for you.

[capitalcurator]

He is a little at a loss on what to do with the Knight leaning on him like that. Lemm stares at one of their horns that is conveniently in his field of view, while he considers whether or not this is a cue and there's some acceptable way he should be responding to it.

No, likely not. He stays where he is and tries not to be so acutely aware. He'll just... be a backrest. He guesses.

"I - well. I'd believe toxic, so I suppose it follows I have to believe intoxicant. Where'd you hear something like that, then?" His tone shifts to mildly accusatory. "Surely not Dirtmouth?" Is Elderbug inclined to party, Knight.