voicetest the voiceless

[focusedvoid]

They're not dead.

Less dead than they'd felt, at least. Their shell doesn't normally take so long to reform.

Then again. Their shell doesn't usually break of their own violation as they ascended in a boiling rage, ate at least one realm, a god, and all the Godseekers.

(That last point is debatable, actually. There's some odd sense, deep under their...shell? Void? Wherever they once stored things like Isma's Tear, much deeper now...that the sea-mind is still there, sluggish and held in a stasis. They're already adjusting enough, and they don't seem to be dying or trying to kill them, so that problem is neatly sorted as 'for later'.)

They push their body to stand. Their horn clangs uncomfortably loudly against the grate they've apparently woken up beneath. They're somewhere in the Royal Waterways. A quick check of the map--or, not so quick, as it takes time to locate where it had been--shows they've risen about halfway through, closer to the City of Tears than the White Palace. They'll go to the Stag Station in the City Storerooms next.

So they think. Complications arise on the way.

The Infection is gone, leaving dead Flukes, Pilflips, and Hwurmps in piles enough it takes time to force their way past. Their body seems too small. No, their body is fine--there's something wrong with perception itself. That will take time to adjust to.

Then, they discover the Monarch Wings now stretch and warp when used, twisting around the nearest pipes after landing before the Knight forcibly calls them back. Shade Wings, they decide to call these.

Once they're high enough to hear the rain above, they realize a noise they'd ascribed to water running in the distance is, in fact, something swirling behind their mask. Many somethings. All the fragments of Siblings with enough self left, staring out from their eyes. It's disconcerting.

By the time they actually get out of the Waterways, they're using their Shade Wings to grip ledges and drag themselves up, with those holding onto things better than their own arms are with the Mantis Claw. 

The Knight faceplants awkwardly onto the floor of the building Lemm's shop is in. If the City is the same as below, there's little left to try killing them in the area.

They'll just take a moment here, thanks.

Comments

[focusedvoid]

They raise their paws up and applaud themselves as Myla cracks up so hard she nearly tips off the bench. Fortunately, the Dirtmouth couch is too full of blankets for that to be a worry here.

The physical Godseeker had small, delicate claws. The rest of their/her(?) form was significantly larger than her self in Godhome, and was proud of that presence.

The Knight pours out whatever they can think of about how they all look, in case that could mean something, with Myla adding a few details they'd never stopped and noticed.

They also gesture between the basket and Lemm's bag once he turns back around. Go ahead, take more.

[capitalcurator]

He's amused that Myla is so amused. Here again the strangeness of it hits him - sitting around in someone else's home, passing the morning with conversation with two other people and it hasn't - yet - ended in disaster. Feels like he's tricking them. Lemm attempts to hold that thought at arm's length and basks in the normality a while longer.

...The way the Godseekers look is enough confirmation that something highly ceremonial has gone on. And he suspects, in some way, it is related to why or how they seem to have hitched a mental ride on one body and left the rest behind. This he touches on only vaguely, and makes comments on the masks more than the rest. They'd be heavy and restrictive made of anything metallic. The golden colour marks them as particularly unique, and foreign to Hallownest, as Myla seems to have figured out.

It's all carefully filed in his head, as all such information is.

"I'm not..." Lemm stops the automatic response and looks down. He mumbles a thank you, even if he doesn't reach for the basket now. Maybe when he leaves.

Which he should. Soon. Reluctant as he is, he can feel himself getting antsy and there is a lull in the conversation, so -

"...I've relics to be getting back to." He sounds almost like he's testing the water on whether or not this is a polite way of doing it.

[focusedvoid]

They nod. Take several. Elderbug made them. They seem good, and I don't want them to go to waste.

At the rest, Myla starts slightly and looks around, as if there's anything to indicate time...well, anywhere.

The Knight can tell it's a hint to Lemm considering heading back, and they flounder. It shouldn't be a problem, but--they're the one usually leaving. Or they're both leaving together. They nod again.

"Oh! What do you usually b-b-buy and s-sell?" Myla asks before he can do much more. She's not interested in outright riches, but there's nothing wrong with going along with other interests--and she already wants to visit the Shining City, even if it's a waterlogged mess!

[capitalcurator]

At the offer, Lemm stares hard at the pastries for rather a lot longer than anyone really needs to think about that.

He's jolted out of it when Myla speaks. This at least is a simple question. Work he's comfortable with. Lemm turns to face her and rests one arm on the table.

Just in the nick of time he remembers to keep the is this not obvious? tone well out of his voice. "Relics," he answers. "And I don't sell."

This topic was a danger zone last time. Lemm hesitates. With his hand out of his lap, the Knight will be able to see his blunt claws fidgeting subtly where they're tucked in against the table.

"I specialise in Hallownest," which is a professional way of saying he's personally interested in Hallownest, "and the more historied an item is, the better." And then, because it's only fair: "Don't expect me to be good company, but I -" it all went wrong here, didn't it? "- pay fairly." Fidget, fidget.

[focusedvoid]

"I d-don't know a lot about relics! I'm not s-sure what kind of thing you might like having, haha," she clarifies, confusion along the edge of her tone. Running a shop but not selling sounds strange. Not Myla's business though! She doesn't think she wants any relics for herself.

The fact he pays fairly is a subconscious plus. She might not need outright wealth, but Geo in your bag is always a good thing!

"You've been fine company! Oh--but I can be p-professional," she assures. There were all sorts of stories about the older folks who went to the Shining City and returned scandalized at their ill manners, including shopkeeps that didn't want to hear about how your day has been. Myla can handle that!

[capitalcurator]

Is she not-asking-but-kind-of-asking him what a relic is? Lemm hates this question. Not because it's a silly one, by any stretch. It's just - if he's too specific, people don't use their heads about what to bring him. If he's not specific enough, he gets junk. And sometimes the line blurs, because Relic Seeking is... personal.

Good thing, then, that he's had a long time to form an answer.

"A relic's usually three things: old, rare, and storied. Usually a combination." But not always. This is implied. "The Knight's been bringing me Wanderer's Journals and Hallownest Seals, generally. Can't complain." He doesn't look at them, but he does tip his horn appreciatively in their direction. (They've brought him much more than those two things, and can't complain is far from it. Not fair to put such unrealistic expectations on a stranger though.) "A Relic Seeker's a picky beast! Try me."

Fine company. Right. Well, she's been both, not that he's bold enough to say so.

Though Myla also seems... naive. This might pose a problem. Only fair to warn her.

"If you run into a high-shelled bug with glasses, don't give her a single Geo. We're a hard lot down there."

...

Lemm rises from his seat and strokes down his beard, and goes to retrieve his things.

[focusedvoid]

"Old, rare, and storied," she half-sings to herself. "Okay! I'll k-keep an eye out!"

The Knight flips their paper, scribbling large for Myla to see:
MILLIBELLE. THIEF!

Perhaps they should try warning her about Emilitia too, but that's far less important. She's rude, not a scammer. Maybe later, after all this is done. They'll play the tour guide, perhaps.

"A thief?! Don't worry, I won't!" Myla says, significantly more firm.

They watch him gather his things and think--should they help? No, he doesn't need their help. They just...should be doing something. They want to be doing--

Ah.

They hop down once he's done and trot to stand in front of him.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm doesn't see the Knight's writing, busy sorting out his bag, but he hears Myla just fine. "Aye, exactly!"

He's - stalling, he realises. He doesn't need to sort his bag, he's just rearranging things. Frustrated with himself and fighting an unwelcome wave of reluctance, he rises and loops the strap down past his horns. He's got to go, anyway, the Knight's home is - is...

It's many things, but it's not familiar, and Lemm doesn't know how much longer he can weather the company no matter how pleasant it is.

He steels his resolve and turns around, clearly about to stride towards the door as he forms some semblance of a polite goodbye, but there is a Knight in front of him suddenly. He stalls, and waits to see what they want.

[focusedvoid]

Myla watches the Knight's silhouette shift as they stick out their arms.

Farewell hug?

[capitalcurator]

Ah. Lemm shifts a half-step back in his place, glancing around, settling on Myla, who is watching, kind of. Something in his chest feels like gravity has gone the wrong way.

He looks back to the Knight, and his hands cling tight to the strap of his bag as he processes.

Yes. Well. People do this, don't they, when they part. There's no harm in it. Lemm gingerly lowers into a kneel in front of them, and prises his hands away from his bag.

[focusedvoid]

Lemm looked at Myla, and they know she won't care...but if it makes him uncomfortable, they should've waited until he'd gone outside. But they thought, too, it's not so strange a thing to do.

Before they can retract their query, he kneels, and they unhesitatingly wrap their little arms as far as they can reach.

Even if they don't let it linger for as long as they like.

"B-b-be seeing you! Don't let your pickclaw fall!" Myla pauses, realizing that was, perhaps, a little confusing to hear. "Um, that means d-don't give up, haha. Stay safe! I think that one works better."

[capitalcurator]

Lemm is maybe a little slow on the uptake, even if he knew what was about to happen. But after a small delay his arms wrap tight around the Knight, and his head lowers a notch to tuck in beside theirs.

As always, they fit very well. He gives them a fleeting squeeze before he pulls back and eases himself back upright, looking at them candidly for a second. Myla's voice once more pulls him out of it.

And it's not unwelcome, he realises. The tendency to dwell too long in his own head is not trained for a bug who chirps in like she does. Lemm straightens, and with a gentle knock of the back of his finger joints against the Knight's horn he moves past them as if all this is normal, was normal, went normally.

His hand dips into the basket of pastries on the way past, and comes up with two. Like no one might notice.

Lemm pauses at the door, free hand about to push it open. He should say something. Back. And in general.

"Um -" oh, yes, very smooth "- keep thou as thine. No. Urgh, I can't -"

The door is pulled open to whistling Dirtmouth wind, and the Relic Seeker slips out, and the door is pulled closed again with some irritation. The lightest kind.