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]

That's intriguing, but he thinks maybe it's not something he should ask about. The business with the Dream-related Charms is left alone. (For now.)

The Charm they take out... It does look like that. Lemm is momentarily reminded of the jar on his desk.

"Quite the will it must have, to cause something like that." Lemm reaches out - not to take, just to nudge a thumb over the crystalline surface, checking what the material feels like.

Lemm stares at the Hiveblood Charm, going still as he loses his focus in some private thought. When he comes back to himself it betrays nothing, and he gives a shrug.

"I don't plan on getting wounded. But I'll try it, if you'd like."

...Wait.

Lemm turns to stare at the Knight in obvious pause as several cogs snap together in his head at once.

"You don't -?" Obviously. Obviously now that he's addressing the subtler thoughts. So obviously. Lemm snaps the heel of his palm to his forehead and sighs, sharply. "That does put some things into context."

[focusedvoid]

I believe it came from Vespa herself. She wouldn't be opposed to my sharing it.
I don't know this, they hastily clarify, but I feel I'm correct.

It wasn't for them, either, they think, but the Hive Knight can't, and there is no Queen to protect. Leaving it hidden beneath her corpse seems a higher disrespect. And Lemm could use an extra layer of protection, unless he's got Soul ability he's kept secret for this long.

They're lightly startled from such thoughts, staring up before realizing Lemm's realization.

Both paws reach up to drum at the base of their mask, amused. No, see, nothing here.

[capitalcurator]

...Vespa... rings a bell. Less so than the Hive as a majority, just by the way bugs wrote their records and included what was on their mind. Either way Lemm can glean from context who that must be, and he nods.

"I'll lean on that, then. No sense second-guessing someone I've never met." It's acceptance, anyway, an agreement that he's content to borrow if they're content to lend.

...They are being obvious at him.

Lemm pulls a face and does some exaggerated head-flip eyeroll gesture, clearly caught out.

"Aye, aye! Well! Not all of us sense through our face, so you can put that smug look back where it came from!" He should have guessed, though. The biology doesn't add up no matter which way you look at it.

...Still.

"Urgh. Made a few blunders I think."

[focusedvoid]

Alright then; they reach up and thump their horns near the base as well. The noise that makes is heavier than their not-mouth area, but they're still clearly not anything but stationary things.

To that, though, they drop their paws and deliberately tilt their head. They aren't entirely sure what he means. Is this about the tea?

[capitalcurator]

Lemm gets what they're going for! Does it justify anything? No, apparently, because he looks put out and sweeps his hands down at the rest of him. He's known bugs to pick up some things through their feet. How should he know what a little scrubby wanderer picks up, or how!

...If he'd been paying better attention maybe he might. This is not helpful. He gives up and huffs.

Either way they look uncertain...

"Said a few things," he offers very unhelpfully. "If you couldn't pick up - never mind." Awkward as ever and just as stunted. What he is thinking of is the Knight coming in with the Defender's Crest, of the moment with the Bluggsac in Ze'mer's pantry, of other milder moments besides - it doesn't matter.

"Does me worse than others," he offers, instead. "Ready to move on?" Absolutely a deflection.

[focusedvoid]

If you've called me smelly, you were probably right and I likely wasn't hurt. Now they remember one--being kicked out of his shop early on had startled more than annoyed; it was obviously the Defender's charm, and a bench was safely nearby. He was pointing out honest displeasure.

But moving on is right. They nod and hop to the side, gesturing grandly for Lemm to take the lead again.

[capitalcurator]

"Bah. Fine, fine." He flaps a hand a bit. Despite this it's good to know he hasn't caused lasting offense! As ever he is awkward about it.

Lemm sets off walking. The doorway through to the high walkway is a wide one, and the walls continue a little way out along the corridor before a door shuts out the rain - after they're through, the sides are completely open with nary a handrail in sight, and a braced glass roof rattles almost deafeningly with the rain.

Lemm pauses halfway across and gestures to the north side, having to raise his voice to be heard:

"More residential the further away from the square you go," he explains. "Might be worth a look later as well, if you've any need of basic supplies. You did mention. Back that way -" towards Fountain Square, again "- that's where you'd want to be for business. Where all the people are, close to the gates and the main lifts!"

Not a tour guide, indeed. Lemm continues along and leads them through to a... lounge, on the other side. Glass tables left with chairs neatly stacked on them like it was closing time (now scattered, and one table very smashed). There's a small bar in the corner, and a raised platform in a corner backed by curtains that looks like it may have been for speakers or singers.

Lemm doesn't have much to say about this one, though he does watch the Knight curiously to see if it takes their interest.

[focusedvoid]

They turn towards where he indicates, and note it. If nothing else, they could use a few more furnishings for their (their! They've been living in it for a long time, and something in their chest still jumps at the thought) house.

...The urge to break things is much higher here.

The Knight paces their way around, slapping a few shards of the ruined table with their Nail to skitter across the floor the other way. The stage will be examined from atop it.

[capitalcurator]

There's an array of dining material kept behind the bar they might be able to go through - ceramics and silverware, yes, but also spare candles and the like. (Whatever drinks were here appear to have been looted quite thoroughly.) As far as furniture goes, the Knight has the run of the place, especially with their apparently unlimited storage habits. Whatever the case Lemm has been here before - if there's anything left he hasn't taken, he doesn't want it.

Lemm comes to the stage, though he doesn't stray up onto it, just stands there in front of it with his arms folded - like he's an audience member and they're a performer. The absurdity of this thought isn't lost on him.

"This was called The Glasswing - nice little bar that got itself patronised mostly by the noble folk from the Royal Quarter nearby, who would get themselves three sheets to the wind and entertain themselves with the usual bored rich activities. Scavenger hunts and dare parties and the like."

He sounds amused.

"Song, as well, though from what few tipsy lyrics that got written down they weren't as good at it as they thought they were. One bug at a time'd get up where you're standing and give it a go."

[focusedvoid]

They think to look up, and find a few broken bars where there might've been a place for spotlights. Not much otherwise.

No voice to cry suffering, rises suddenly, with bitter amusement: wrong, as everything else.

They can poke behind the bar later.

The Knight pats their mask again where no mouth is and waves for Lemm to step back.

[capitalcurator]

He does, without fuss - even though he looks confused for a moment. He knows they aren't about to start singing.

The list of other things they could be about to do is not short.

Lemm is getting practice in at taking their cues; he backs up and stands himself at more of a distance, behind one of the tables. He also looks faintly curious.

[focusedvoid]

Soul coalesces; their body blurs into black, and the numerous howling shrieking faces burst into being as they always have--though, unknown to the Knight, they're larger and significantly spikier.

The sight is impressive, and the thundering noise is more, rattling the bar and the bars above. The latter catch on the end of the spell and a few snap loose; it's barely an effort for the Knight to dash off the stage in a dodge.

They land on the floor, smug to themselves. Look at that spellwork.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm lurches backwards and knocks into a table, one hand grabbing at the edge and the other clutching his chest. Safe to say they scared the hell out of him!

...Also safe to say he recovers fast, because he heaves a relieved sigh that ends in a sound suspiciously close to a laugh.

"Is that what that noise was!" It had sounded the same when they'd chased off the Goam, not that he had been looking in the right direction at the time - it's a hard noise to mistake. "You're so loud! I'm surprised you haven't shattered a window."

Lemm comes up by their side once he's certain nothing else is about to fall on them, and the Knight may be pleased - he looks very impressed. After a moment examining the damage, he plants a hand acknowledgingly on their head.

"Certainly more pithy than O Towers Of My Heart, I'll give you that."

[focusedvoid]

This time a show of fear is met with more amusement rather than anxiety mirroring back.

They were going to bow, but Lemm settles his hand on their mask first. They reach up to pat-pat-pat his wrist instead, and nod vigorously under his claws: the Knight's shattered many a window doing this.

[capitalcurator]

Ruffled he may be, but it's generously outweighed by the novelty of seeing their spells in use. Lemm almost forgets his usual reminder:

"You won't be doing that in my shop." (It's tacked on without much fuss. He knows they won't. He still has to say it!)

Satisfied, he turns to scan the room one last time, unable to stop himself thinking of the damage they're obviously capable of doing versus the times they've reeled it in. Which are many, if he's reasonable.

"I'll have to think of somewhere I don't mind you wreaking some proper havoc. Might be interesting to see, as long as it's not taking history with it."

[focusedvoid]

They nod--of course they won't--and amble vaguely towards the door, although they take a moment near the bar.

There's not a lot to interest them, so they absently push bent bits of cutlery around and pick up a few spare candles in thought.

There aren't many places without history that are also safe to go full-spell dangerous. The Blue Lake? They've likely knocked all the stalactites that were already dangerous loose.

--The Knight could potentially use some of these candles as gifts, if nothing else. They tuck a couple smaller ones away.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm leaves them to their fiddling, arms folded and idly watching, but not intently - from the outside, he looks like he's barely paying attention. None of his private thoughts usually show on his face, at least not the important ones.

The shout, though. Now that he's seen it - well, the spell looks violent, but he suspects it was reined in very well. He knows he's dealing with the Lord of Shades, that it perhaps could have been far more destructive. There was a thunderous tremor to the floor when the Soul Sanctum shattered. He's making some connections here.

...Hm. And it's not a bad hm, for the advocate for delicacy and historic preservation.

Lemm unfolds his arms and goes to the door, which leads to a curling iron ramp that leads gently to ground level again. There is a park down there, across the street, still heading west. Last stop, maybe.

Lemm will be holding the door when they're ready, pretending to be interested in the decor he's seen more times than anyone else alive.

[focusedvoid]

The candles smell sweet, imports of wax from the Hive in ages past, though the Knight can't know. They're just thinking of lights, and how dull everything looks under lumafly-light; most places beyond Hallownest don't have them.

Dirtmouth, at least, might have a few appreciators. They don't have illusions of much below. Fire is orange, after all.

(The Radiance, they drowned and died to inside Dream and out, but the cold light of the White Palace hooked into their mind worse.)

They scavenge a couple bowls and cutlery, chosen for sturdiness over looks, and flutter back to Lemm's side.

They pause. A park. It's only natural a City would have such, but--hm. They wait for Lemm to lead the way again.

[capitalcurator]

The Knight has some taste, is what he observes. He's not one for candles himself. A lumafly's light is steadier to work by and less damaging if it's knocked. He... does understand that's rather not the point, usually. (Also, they are picking up eating utensils. For other people. Good.)

The park is quite small, and mostly paved; an iron-wrought roof of a sort arches overhead like a canopy, designed to look like leaves, though it's not solid and does nothing to keep out the rain. The pavings make swirling patterns that meet in the centre to make the usual Hallownest crest, and here and there are stone-lined shapes of damp earth that used to be planted beds, once upon a time.

There is nothing in them but dark earth now, except in a far corner where some dull-looking fungi seem to have endured, and thrived, and taken over most of the earth in that corner and a wall.

Lemm takes a meandering path towards a decorated bench, under a trellis still sporting the withered remnants of whatever was growing on it. There's a sign here - Please do not feed the Maskflies.

A tarp of sorts has been draped over the top of the trellis, and the bench is as dry as anything gets in the City of Tears.

"Not in a rush, are we?"

[focusedvoid]

This park is dead as the rest of the City, anything worth admiring long gone. It's still rather pleasing to walk through, compared to the endless stone and metal of the rest. And there don't seem to be any spikes.

That there's no need to fly around here isn't important. It's the principle of the thing.

...Maybe they can snap a few off the lifts. The Lord of Shades is strong enough for that, and it's an absurd hazard anyway.

What would one feed Maskflies, they wonder, glancing the sign over before immediately settling onto the bench. Their map requires updating.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm contentedly takes that as a no, and sinks onto the bench beside them.

There are no Maskflies here now, or anywhere in the City of Tears that he's actually seen. Just Vengeflies, which will apparently live almost anywhere and eat anything that moves. Lemm suspects these things are related. Shame. He'd have taken great satisfaction in disobeying that sign.

"Not much to see, now," he admits. He points up, though he's a little distant, doesn't seem to mind if they're paying attention or not. They have their map. He has his chatter. "Solid ironwork though. Surface plants, not your typical underground root cover. Might explain why there's nothing left in the beds, they planted things that didn't belong and rotated them out when they died off. S'the kind of thing you do when you're a groundskeeper in a city like this, showing off."

He's quiet for a time, staring up at the metal canopy, and then leans back against the bench and sighs, folding his arms over his chest and letting his gaze drop to the floor in front of him.

"Bugs would write about it sometimes. Took their friends here, their partners. Their children. Even the Watcher was said to pass through here on his rare way somewhere else, and that's got to have been on purpose because the bridges don't connect straight."

Another pause.

"Always liked reading about that kind of thing. S'domestic. Makes a change from all the struggling and strife and whatnot."

[focusedvoid]

If there park has echoes of the past, rain on iron drowns it out.

The map is getting complicated. They write in tiny glyphs to fit the names of the places they've passed through, and finish it off with a bench pin.

The Knight's thoughts wander towards the White Lady and her Gardens again. The map is put away with some force, and they tilt their head towards their friend instead. His voice drowns that out just fine.

They have little to respond with, there. But they're here, and listening.

[capitalcurator]

He didn't bring them here so he could be interesting at them, they're both figuratively off the clock. He's not worried about being interesting. But the listening is a nice bonus. He finds himself looking at them, now and then, like they're engaging in the conversation. None of this is the point, he just - can't keep quiet.

The rain on iron is the point.

"There's a record in a sentry's journal..." ...Yes, he'll tell this one. "About breaking up a fight here, just outside that park gate. A proper brawl, if you can believe it - some inebriated noble came down from the Glasswing and picked a fight with a commoner. Got himself headbutted into the Waterways so hard his antenna broke. Nasty business."

Lemm doesn't seem like he thinks so. He fidgets with his beard, looking very faintly amused.

"The commoner had, ah, mismatched horns, that's all that was said. Apparently they ran off quick enough they got away with it." A pause. Lemm glances at the Knight, somewhat conspiratorially. "There's still some graffiti on the outside of the park wall, scratched into the stone. Little picture of a bug with a snapped antenna falling in the canal. Don't think he lived that one down."

[focusedvoid]

They listen. It's interesting, what he says. It's interesting because it's Lemm who's doing the telling, on top of this story being genuinely amusing.

The Knight carefully doesn't look at the top of Lemm's head.

They look in the direction of the gates and pats the bench, metal noises less jarring than damp void-paw clapping. They would've judged it as well-deserved even without the explanation.

[capitalcurator]

It might have been entertaining. He hopes it was. There are limited things you can do with a historical anecdote, if you're not the one interested in it. They are patting the bench, they are not looking at -

"Heh."

He looks away, the laugh unintentional. Alright then.

"Aye, aye, we'll be leaving that way. The closest bridge by the Royal Quarter is out there."

Their map is getting complicated because it is a wider, broader view. His, at least the mental version, is of the Capital, and mostly just that. He doesn't have to consult his paper version.