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]

Lemm takes a deep breath, and then a slow sigh. Watch out for the small ones, he supposes...

"That I'd believe. Rips off worse than me, apparently." Still salty, by the way. "There're mentions of a Nailsage here and there - not much, just enough to pen it as quite the revered role."

And up until recently it belonged to a shopkeeper in Dirtmouth. With a reputation for Geo-grabbing.

"Does take some of the gloss away," he admits. "Maybe I shouldn't say that to his face, eh?"

[focusedvoid]

They've withdrawn inward throughout their conversation, and that soundly returns them to the moment. Lemm gets the soft end of the quill flicked at the center of his face. They're not taking it back!

Likely unwise, they agree dryly. I discovered this only after learning Nail Techniques from the three Nailmasters. He seems to enjoy being a shopkeeper.
I don't expect he'd want this knowledge spread.

[capitalcurator]

His reaction is a very pronounced head-twitch away and an instinctive scrunchy look of disgust, gone as soon as it appeared. It's pretty easy to get a rise out of him. Not that they didn't know this already.

"That's why you didn't list it when I was asking about Dirtmouth, is it?" Lemm scratches a claw idly at his face where the quill tapped him, looking thoughtful. Knowing will make any future interaction with Sly rather awkward. ... It was already going to be. This is a total moot. "I know how to keep my mouth shut. As I will about a lot of this journal, I think."

He doesn't recognise the Wingmould, next. The Retainer is just a bug. After that, though, he taps a claw insistently at the Kingsmould. "That I've seen. Dead, at least."

And the next - ah. Oh, that is a lot of everything, suddenly.

Lemm is quiet as he makes his way slowly to the end.

[focusedvoid]

This time, their nod is a full-on bow. It's only partly overdone.

You have? Has Lemm been all the way to the White Palace, or are there others they hadn't known about?

The next entries' art are all the Knight's work. Multiple scribbles of their Siblings (yes, one is shaped like Greenhorn--it could be Greenhorn, but they're not going to bring that up first).

Hornet in battle-stance, noted in the Hunter's brief interaction to seem like a Hunter herself.

Their tallest Sibling, hale and unwounded, without the ugly harnessed pauldrons that appeared on them at the start.

The Radiance. Forgotten, yet immortalized in their art and Void's memory, smothered to nothing in the darkness despite this.

Their own Shade. They wrote a reminder, here, though it might not look it to another's eye. Become whole. The Knight has always known being without it goes poorly. That doesn't always stop them in making foolish decisions, and leaving it behind in their stubbornness.

(They need to bring Jiji an egg, or several. For old times' sake.)

[capitalcurator]

"Aye. Down under the Kingdom, by the old Palace. Though as I've said, there's nothing there now." He's talking on autopilot, staring at the last chunk of Hunter's Journal entries rather intently. "I wasn't pleased to find that out, I can tell you."

He sits back, arms braced on the counter and one claw tapping a few times. There is a lot to think about.

The Knight knows he's looking at it all, is the thing, so he's going to have to address at least some of it. Scholarly compartmentalisation comes into play: one thing at a time, start with what you know. His gaze tracks back to the Siblings.

Hornet is in here, and she's well. Great Nailsage Sly is in here, and presumably he's well. The Hunter's Journal seems to be about the hunt, not necessarily the kill, at least after it changed hands from the Hunter's to the Knight's. And their Siblings are... Lemm isn't sure. Somewhere between? They have died, as he understands it, but they're still present, maskless and entirely Void, and he can see them without waving a Dream Nail about.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, and then his fingers still so that he can rest one on the entry.

"...Odd to see them here." Should he even acknowledge it? Too late now.

[focusedvoid]

Lemm's been there? Memories of the shattered bridges flash through their head. They deliberately put a paw on their mask to ground them. He's here, he's fine, they'll guide him to the space if he wishes again--

...Have they told him about the White Palace's dream?

The Knight subtly glances to the papers they'd organized into a stack, and so foiled any glimpses into their own earlier discussions.

The Pale King left a Dream of it in/though(?) that Kingsmould. I don't believe it is accurate to reality, however. I do not know how. They could try to learn now, perhaps, but would prefer not to bring a nightmare of buzzsaws and blinding light back onto its own ruined foundation.

They watch Lemm's fingers tap, tap, tap as they do when they think of what to say.

They don't know what to say, either.

Yes. They're safe now.

To be around as well as from outside danger, real or perceived.

Sudden tiny flickers of guilt from Siblings listening in are firmly denied. None of them could understand what was happening. There isn't any need for that, and no blame. The Knight's claws settle at the center of their chest, where the Voidheart hides; it won't be happening again.

[capitalcurator]

As ever the Knight is hard to read, but Lemm is already getting to a point where the subtleties they do have don't quite get to slip by. He wasn't looking, too fixated on the journal, so he missed the mask touch and the glance. Their other tells may not be so lucky.

Their pen is moving, so he looks up. It is obvious he is about to ask questions when he learns of the Dream of the Palace, but this interest is quickly dampened by the not accurate to reality part. That could mean anything.

"I was looking forward to seeing it," he settles on, quite smoothly, and keeps his usual breathy half-sighing out of the sentence. It is pleasantly innocuous, and says nothing else of his disappointment when he found the damn thing completely gone. "Whatever the Pale King made of that I'd hear about it later." Scholar's focus. They are on so many other topics right now he thinks even he would get muddled.

Safe now. Lemm does not even begin to think of a second meaning to that. It does confirm what he already thought, which is that they're - fine, in whatever sense of that word applies to the Siblings. And the Knight's response was very short, which doesn't exactly invite more probing.

His gaze is on their hand-over-heart motion, for a short moment.

"Yes." And - he's tried this one before, kind of, but it had been at an awkward time. "How is all of that? How are they," he clarifies, and this is just as awkward a time, he supposes. Why is the most ordinary social question the hardest to ask?

[focusedvoid]

That's for the best. Just thinking about the buzzing blades leaves their shell itching with phantom cuts.

For all it technically wasn't real, the whole place was highly unpleasant.

Once again, he gives them a broad question. In general, fairly well. They enjoy seeing the world through me.
Some have been annoyed lately. Myla's presence was known, but I was fretting too much to listen.

Embarrassment creeps up even while they write, but Lemm should know. More proof that he was right. And more truth that they still need practice in a great number of new things, from ascension to being a sibling.

[capitalcurator]

It's a fairly normal answer, all things considered. Never mind the strangeness of their being, and of their Siblings, and the context. It feels like he asked about their family and got a normal answer.

The tension in him eases somewhat, and he loosens from having his arms braced against the counter to rest his hands in his lap instead.

"Hm. Well, you'll listen to them more often." Mindlessly picking at his clawtips behind the lip of the counter, Lemm is compelled to rack his brain for advice. He doesn't know what he was expecting, because it feels like scraping the bottom of a barrel. "Think of them sometimes," he admits, which is more than he'd like to say about himself but at least it's something.

[focusedvoid]

They motion agreement. They've learned that lesson. Among several others, all stacked atop each other.

His movement is watched. The specifics are out of sight, but he's clearly fidgeting.

I'm You can ask about them whenever you like.
Or them. Greenhorn is still the only so bold to answer in-person, though others are growing braver.

[capitalcurator]

He peers at their writing with a suspicious squint, like he's bracing. It fades into a blink.

It all feels rather silly; precautions taken for no reason. Curtains, and the like. The Hollow Knight hadn't seemed to care for it, or anything else he'd done. He wants to accommodate. He is still uselessly at square one.

...The Hunter's Journal. Right.

Shaking himself out of it with a roll of the shoulders normally reserved for a more charged interaction, he offers the Knight a nod - likely he will ask about them again - and moves on.

Void Tendrils. A note that is certainly from the Hunter, on bugs' theories and strange fancies. Lemm scoffs.

Hornet. He isn't ready to discuss her again so soon. Little more to be gained there. It is noted that the Knight has fought her - difficult, they'd called her, and he agrees - and he notes what's written, and moves on.

The Pure Vessel.

This he studies again, even on his second pass. It's the Hollow Knight, obviously, or - it's what they were supposed to be, if he's putting all the pieces together right. It should make him feel reverent, he thinks. Even as he doesn't. Bitterness pools in the gap.

"...How's that?" He points at it. It's in the Hunter's Journal. That probably merits an explanation.

[focusedvoid]

Lemm points to their sibling, standing tall, and asks a question.

Which they don't quite understand. They deliberately tip their head to the side before trying to answer anyway.

My sibling, before the Radiance's inflicted damage. Clearly?

[capitalcurator]

He frowns, or not so much emotionally frowns as just... scrunches. Again.

"I can see," he informs them. Then realises what he's said, and to whom. The expression vanishes with an internal lurch.

Wide-eyed, he tries again.

"I meant why are they here." There is a somewhat Tiktik-before-a-Nail look about him, after that.

[focusedvoid]

Ah. Right, it must be strange to see them.

Ascending Godhome involved battling all the Godseekers considered gods in Hallownest. Several appeared in their prime. Nailsage Sly is an example, the Knight answers without a beat.

The 'Pure Vessel' was penultimate to the Radiance. They were an incredible challenge. It was infuriating at the time, try after try after so much work, falling to their blade. With success and hindsight, they write this with deep respect.

[capitalcurator]

He listens carefully. With this and what they've said before, he is starting to piece together a more proper idea of what this 'Godhome' entails. The Knight fought... likely most of this journal, if not all of it. Certainly many of the later additions.

"Their training had to've been unusual." Yes. Obviously.

Lemm retreats from that, feeling uninformed. He thinks of the Hollow Knight's statue, tall and stylised in the square. The anchors on the floor inside the Black Egg, and the ceremonial look of this image. The Pure Vessel fits the narrative.

- The Hollow Knight in his shop, slumped and motionless on a pillow looking terribly out of place, rigid and strange when he'd been commanding by accident.

That does not.

"The Pure Vessel," he repeats, from the Knight's speech even though it was written in the Hunter's Journal first. The title sits strange in his mouth in a way it perhaps wouldn't have, before they properly met.

No, he doesn't like that, apparently.

"I know how to keep my mouth shut," he repeats, this time as a query.

[focusedvoid]

Their capabilities with Soul outclassed anything I have ever seen. Their Nailwork was awe-inspiring. I --shouldn't get lost in detailing the many ways their sibling killed them, they realize just before they start detailing the blade-like pillars they cold summon. would like to learn some of it if they're ever willing. There, that's neutral enough.

And it seems their disdain for the title came through fine on its own. Strange to train a Vessel meant only to hold a god, they note, strokes of the quill rougher than need be.

The Knight pauses, but not for long. I despise the titles my sibling was given. Chronicle what you need for the truth; I won't directly use either beyond this.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm expected many things; this level of admiration was not one of them, though this was largely because he hadn't known the Pure Vessel's skills. Basic knight training, yes, he'd assumed; strange indeed that it ever went beyond that.

They'll let this go in the record. Lemm finds himself uncomfortable with including it, but what is this to the rest of the Abyss? More of the same. Details that paint the truth of what was done. There are more of these than he expected.

"I'll take no pleasure in calling them that even once, if it risks shaping the thoughts of whoever's reading. I'll have to think about it." He shakes his head. "And it's not just your permission I'll need, is it?"

Lemm gazes down at the image, at the Godseekers' poetry. It's too easy to picture this Knight and imagine that their job was ordinary - that they lived a life in service of the King, and the Memorial outside might pay respect to some grand choice they'd made.

Illusion of choice, Lemm thinks, and is not prepared for the nausea that hits when his mind helpfully supplies a faint sketch of the Great Knights and a detail of something small.

He tears his eyes off the page and manages himself carefully into detached academia, letting none of his unsteadiness bleed through.

"They did a clever little blink in my shop, but I'd not thought it might go so much further than that. I'm more relieved than I was that their Nail was on my side."

[focusedvoid]

Yes. Lemm would understand better than they. And of course their sibling should have input about themselves.

Godhome is real. Godhome is dream. The Knight tore their way through battle after battle enough that the truth of the beings they fought was lost, for a time. Whatever they saw had been real, once. It was easy to forget. It still matters.

Their claws close thoughtfully around the Dream Nail's hilt. Tap, tap, tap that. Many, many things to ask their sibling, and they hold no illusion they'll necessarily be given answers.

Did they? He's already said they were fine. Did both of us make a mess of your shop? they add, deliberately sweeping their head with partly-forced levity at the packed shelves.

[capitalcurator]

He's not under the impression that he is guaranteed to be allowed to include this just because the Knight agreed. The Hollow Knight's answer really might be 'no'. This is for future Lemm to prepare for.

He follows their gesture with an uncertain glance until what they're asking makes sense, and Lemm is very quick to put that to rights.

"No! No. Barely moved while they were here. Seems a careful hand runs in the family." This at least isn't intended as some kind of fluffy little compliment, it's just the truth as he sees it. Lemm approves of it in a much more clinical sort of way.

... Also, this next part was going to have to come to light sooner or later. It comes out in a quiet, gruff admission.

"Had them polishing relics." A nod at the small collection on the dresser. "Seemed to kill the time."

[focusedvoid]

The Knight is still pleased, praise for them and their sibling at once. They trust in Lemm's honesty. They're comfortable enough to do another half-bow at it.

When they twist to look, the collection is obvious, pieces deliberately placed from everything else.

Huh.

Picturing them doing such is difficult. They're each polished to absolute amazing shine, which makes it slightly easier.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm waits for some kind of reaction, and finds himself strangely uncomfortable when there isn't one. There's supposed to be one. Isn't there?

- This is the Knight, not... It's the Knight. They know him. Of course they didn't take badly to this. Lemm blinks down at the counter and not-so-smoothly moves on, in the hopes his expectant silence went unnoticed.

"They did a fine job of it. Anyway the business with Hornet was sudden, and they moved faster than I saw. Nothing was knocked though." Maybe that's of some note to the Knight, that the Hollow Knight's motor control was well enough for that.

Lemm moves on. And the next thing to move on to is a big one.

He re-reads the Hunter's appraisal of the Radiance, and sits with that for a while.

[focusedvoid]

They eye him a moment, and figure he's thinking what next to say. Their sibling's ability to move so quickly, or teleport, is enough to keep them occupied until he finds it. They decide it's a positive sign.

And now they're looking down at the Radiance.

They copied her appearance down with accuracy. The Knight noticed, even then, that she didn't look like something so cruel and ruinous.

They suppose they should hate her more. She was the root of it all, and yet cold rage isn't so swift to rise as it once was.

They can still feel her agonizing light rendered useless trying to scorch them in their final moments, and all that soft fluff shredding to dream motes underneath their claws.

It was nearly pathetic, after all it took to bring her to that point.

[capitalcurator]

His thoughts are, perhaps surprisingly, similarly angled.

This is the root of the dream-plague that brought the fabled Kingdom of Hallownest not just to its knees, but to the ground. It is a Higher Being, and the answer to... everything, really. All of his searching and questioning led him here, to finding out what the Radiance is - and, now, what she looks like. Not a single other Relic Seeker in the world could hope to know what Lemm now knows.

This is a drawing of a Higher Being and it... lacks, somehow. This is not about the illustration, he thinks. The illustration is fine.

Lemm stares quietly at it a while longer, trying to place the feeling.

Ah. Detached. That's to be expected, actually.

"Hard to think of what to ask."

Hopefully this explains his silence. There's another one now.

"She wasn't my plague," he continues, somewhat stuntedly. "As many accounts as I got through I don't think I'll ever grasp what it was like. Not that I'm complaining," he pointedly adds. "Lets me do my job properly, and look at history from the outside. S'a bit harder with other things. Just hard to think of the right questions."

[focusedvoid]

The Knight is perfectly capable of waiting.

Still. They don't want to wait for her. They can offer some information, starting as straightforwardly as possible.

She was a large being. Her smaller horns were longer than my body. currently is.
She first appeared in the dream's sky as the sun itself. She took my challenging her personally rather than staying away, where it was safer.
Fitting to her name, most of her attacks burned gold and streaked like sunbeams. She summoned blades but seemed comparatively unskilled with them.
The core of her, within the shadows around her eyes, appeared to be a glowing orb.

[capitalcurator]

He looks up, pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of their pen.

As he reads, he catches himself wanting to take notes, but this - these are notes, he'd just be making a copy.

Lemm settles for trying to picture what he can manage, occasionally glancing back at the Radiance's entry to remind himself of the details.

"Perfect," he assesses of the information they're giving him, glad they have direction when he was sorely lacking it. "Yes. Your account of the battle..." That's likely the most vital thing the Knight can give him; the Radiance was largely a mystery to them too until recently. He commits all of this to memory.

"As the Lord of Shades you'll likely know this better than I," he adds, with a nod that is respectful but not devout. "But there's always a centre, or a domain of a sort. If - when I speak with your Moth friend I'll ask about that, I think. Best to get it straight from someone who already has the nuance of her."

He studies their writing again, and then taps the page lightly with two fingers.

"Might I keep that?"