focusedvoid: (shade of you)
[personal profile] focusedvoid posting in [community profile] boxfullofzeroes








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.

Date: 2023-04-23 01:19 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (take off the defender's crest)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Lemm shrinks back against their claws again in dread as he feels them brake.

But it confirms his suspicion, which is that they were not in fact sure which way they were going and he's just cast further doubt on it. Ugh.

Ugh! in fact.

Lemm presses trembling hands behind him and eases himself forward a bit. He can't get a proper view with their claws cupped so closely around him like this.

"Off with you," he directs, ticking his horn vaguely at the hand being used as a guard. "Let me see."

Date: 2023-04-23 02:44 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (...)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
As the Lord of Shades' claws let in more of the dim City light, he blows out a breath in a long, measured huff. Alright.

His hand slides up their claw behind him and he pushes himself slowly upright. He tests how the platform of their hand feels under his feet - still not good, but manageable when they're keeping fairly still.

Now that he's standing though he can make out the details he needs. There's a closeness to the towers here that turns this part of the city into somewhat of a near-opaque tangle - no wonder they couldn't get their bearings. But he's been here, or nearby. At least one of the buildings nearby he's pretty sure he's been in to the ground floor.

Lemm's head turns to point directly north, with little ceremony or forethought. There's a tower in the way.

"That way," he declares, and points past it down a turn-off with one shaky hand before it snaps safely back against their claw. "And then a right."

Date: 2023-04-23 08:06 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (Default)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Agh, and the shake has him rattled again. Whatever - they've got it, they've got him, they've got their direction - Lemm presses his back against them again and slides down without a sound, eyes already screwed shut. Standing up was maybe a bad idea?

...He's fine. If he just stays down and keeps breathing steady maybe he can adjust, even! Maybe. Not now though. They might feel a slight tremor now and then in the way he's bracing himself this time, though Lemm does his best to keep it to a minimum.

Still, at least if he keeps his wits about him maybe he'll have some more warning about which direction they're going to move next, so Lemm forces himself to look.

There is someone looking back.

Relic Seeker Lemm stares, kind of intense without meaning to be, and unable to formulate any kind of more acceptable response. He is under a lot of stress!

Date: 2023-04-24 06:13 am (UTC)
capitalcurator: (this isn't a museum)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
His head twitches towards Greenhorn and back to the other Sibling in minute acknowledgement. That isn't them, then.

He's dimly wondered how much the little Siblings might be aware of when they're part of the whole - either way, even if they've seen him before, this one is a stranger to Lemm and he wishes their introduction wasn't happening now.

Neither of them should see him like this.

Subtly, Lemm straightens up.

Date: 2023-04-24 06:39 am (UTC)
capitalcurator: (Default)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Lemm is feeling terribly overwhelmed and the feeling of the Void-hand floor moving beneath him is making a mess of his thoughts, but - there are little Siblings watching him and he needs to get ahold of himself.

He steels his nerve, forces a hand up for a half-wave in greeting to them both as though nothing is wrong whatsoever, and manages to look at least somewhat stoic.

...Are they improvising on his directions? Ugh, he'll correct them when he finds his voice again.

Date: 2023-04-24 07:22 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (...)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
...The Sibling's antics are admittedly kind of distracting, in a way that further confuses the noise in his head. Of which there is a lot.

He is so addled by everything going on at once it's hard to be completely focused on the fear, even - at least until the sudden stop, which takes him by surprise enough for a full body quake to rattle through him.

(He catches the noise he might have made at the shock, even so, because the Siblings are here.)

Deep breath. It'll be done soon. He thinks they might be close?

The Lord of Shades has yet to drop him, and it makes it easier to believe they won't. It's just time. He needs time...

Date: 2023-04-25 06:29 am (UTC)
capitalcurator: (...)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Lemm doesn't immediately move - he gives himself a long moment to inhale, hold, exhale, and then nods acknowledgement at the other Sibling - then he slowly pushes himself to his feet again.

As he moves a noticeably-shaky hand goes in to lightly pat Greenhorn, some part of him still half-expecting his hand to go through, for once too flooded with other concerns to worry about impulse control.

Perhaps most tellingly of all Lemm crouches to gingerly foot-test his way off their hand, refamiliarising himself with the solid stone floor as if the drop is far more than it really is.

Eventually though he's on solid ground again and with a measured, rattling sigh he turns to check on the Lord of Shades, as a whole.

"...'M fine," he says, first, because there is absolutely not a chance they didn't feel all that.

Date: 2023-04-25 04:41 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (this isn't a museum)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
He folds his hands in front of him and rubs a thumb mindlessly into his palm while he watches them etch.

They get a quick, uncharacteristic head-shake and some mild noise in the negative to dismiss the apology as unneeded.

...

He rallies, a moment later, and walks that timidness back a little bit with a sharp sigh.

"Had to drag me all over Hallownest, didn't you? Surprised we didn't end up at Queen's Gardens."

It's not quite as acerbic as his usual self but it's something. He's better already for being on the floor.

Date: 2023-04-25 07:00 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (what.)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Lemm huffs. His hands return to his sides.

"Nuisance."

He actively braces for the nudge by widening his stance just a notch. He's not steady, yet, even for something so light. A hand comes to rest on their claw either in acknowledgement or warning.

"Aye." Mostly? He sighs, glances over at Greenhorn not so subtly, then fixes the Shadelord with a candid little tense look. "I like solid ground, that's all."

Date: 2023-04-25 07:53 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (take off the defender's crest)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
He winces.

This was what he'd been afraid of - well, not as much as being carried, but it was something he'd been dreading.

Another quick glance at Greenhorn to check they're distracted - yes - and a once-over sweep to check for any other curious eyes, not that he expects to have any real grasp on whether the others are listening or not. And then he awkwardly, reluctantly stage-whispers:

"I'll get over it! It wasn't you."

Date: 2023-04-25 08:09 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (this isn't a museum)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
A little more animated now, and less spooked.

"Oh, pah. Please! I've spent too much time in a city of husks not to get over a silly thing like - like - "

- Handwave, handwave. He haughtily sticks one hand on his side and gives an annoyed hum at not being able to find the words.

"Don't swear it off, will you!"

Date: 2023-04-25 09:05 pm (UTC)
capitalcurator: (this isn't a museum)
From: [personal profile] capitalcurator
Lemm forces himself still to let them finish, even though he wants very much to interrupt. His hands flex restlessly at his sides the whole time even so.

And at the end he moves a step like he's about to start pacing - but it goes nowhere. He's still feeling pretty shaken up and he doesn't trust his legs - they're right. They are right. He's being stubborn and impulsive. Lemm promised he'd be careful, as well, and he guesses this counts. If it must.

With some measure of self-control, the hackles go down.

"...Yes," he says, after a bit. He breaks off from looking at them, opting to stare at the wet ground between them instead. A little more softly, this time - but somehow also more meant: "Really nothing to do with you." A pause, one of his more awkward ones, and then he gets even quieter. "...Thanks for the lift."

Right. Yes.

Lemm turns abruptly. "Aye! Greenhorn!"

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