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]

Ah. That's certainly more like Lemm. Still, they stay as they are, settling their hands on the ground on either side. Greenhorn is hovering above one, staring at a nearby hanging sign contemplatively.

BEST
PEST,
NOT
GUIDE.

There, teasing a little. Though they bump his side with the edge of their shortest claw.

ALRIGHT?

[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."

[focusedvoid]

Their claw falls beneath his touch, as though his hand weighs as much as the Spire, pinning it down.

Their head tilts, peering between Greenhorn and Lemm, uncomprehending what that look meant. The former drifts up to nudge the sign into swinging, sweeping backward in alarm when the metal squeaks.

APOLOGIES
STILL.
NO
MORE
OF
THAT.

[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."

[focusedvoid]

Besides agitated tendrils, the Lord of Shades is motionless for a time.

Lemm sounds insistent, but they aren't sure. He was uncomfortable. He was afraid. And that wasn't unreasonable, even if they hadn't accidentally prolonged the experience.

Slowly, they trace:

IS
NOT
NECESSARY.

[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!"

[focusedvoid]

A city of husks one can flee and hide from isn't the same as being held taller than a building by a giant being, even one...trusted.

IS
NOT
NECESSARY.

Again.

BUT
CAN
TRY
LATER.
AFTER
THINKING
ABOUT
IT.

BOTH
THINKING
ABOUT
IT.

They continue to be skeptical. Truly, both of them should think about it more, when the experience can be considered in hindsight, and there's no wanting to wave off each other's worries.

[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!"

[focusedvoid]

The space between them reflects enough; Lemm will see the shape of them dip their head in acknowledgement.

For the thanks. If they'd pushed--

He's not made of glass. He's made it through. Shaky, but intact. They should follow their own words about thinking after.

They keep their claws waiting nearby.

Above, Greenhorn's rotated to stare hard at the side of their tallest Sibling's carved head. Lemm calling startles them into a sharp jolt, which they turn into flipping upside-down and darting downward. Hi! Yes?

[capitalcurator]

Lemm takes a couple of measured steps towards Greenhorn, still mindful of being steady about it. He wags a beckoning hand at them and tries to look casual.

The conversation he wants to have is short, and only under the pretense of being candid.

"Here you are. I've a job for you." Lemm crosses his arms imperiously, ticks his horn to the side, and jabs a thumb back at the Shadelord. "I want you to keep this one on the straight and narrow on the way to getting this mask mended. Your Knight's prone to getting inconveniently lost."

He is completely audible to the Lord of Shades from where he's standing. This is deliberate, judging by the sarcastic tone he just aimed partly over his shoulder.

"If you catch them getting distracted on the way there I want you to make a fuss. Whack 'em with their map if you have to. This mask thing's important, d'you hear? Can you do it?"

[focusedvoid]

...Lemm.

Greenhorn freezes. He wants them to--they can do that? Can they do that? They stare at his face and look up into the Shadelord's, who lifts a spare hand to cover half their eyes in exasperation. (Another mannerism mimicked from bugs that the Knight could never do.)

Yes...yes, they can do that is reassured, with significantly more amusement than annoyance coming along.

Greenhorn drifts closer to Lemm and nods gravely. They don't know why it's so important to him, but it is, so they will!

[capitalcurator]

Lemm doesn't turn around to see the Knight's reaction, he's just making his best guess. This is quite accurate, as it turns out.

He keeps up the serious pretense for Greenhorn and nods back, once.

"Aye. Your - the other one can help, if they've the mind to, but you're in charge of the operation, hm?" He's just met another, he's hardly going to leave them out now.

Lemm sticks out his hand.

"We're agreed then, you and I."

[focusedvoid]

Confusion-alarm, and reassurance, again, from and for Suspicious Sibling. Yes, yes, it will be fine. Their...advising will be heeded here.

Greenhorn peers at his hand seriously. They know what's right here, because they have memories of the Knight doing the same, but they've got tendrils, not hands, and Greenhorn's got something better than that.

So they nod again, and swoop, and bump where their horn would go into their forehead if there was any easy way of differentiating them. Agreed!

[capitalcurator]

"- Hah!"

He should have been expecting something like that, really. But they butt his hand and Lemm lights up, just for a moment, before clearing his throat and settling again into the manufactured look of a grumpy stoic.

"Hm - aye. Agreed."

His hand lingers just long enough to give them a deserved head-pat before straying back to tuck into his folded-arms look like he never did anything of the sort.

Lemm turns back to the Lord of Shades. "Let that be a warning to you. Greenhorn's trustworthy enough to see the job done."

[focusedvoid]

Greenhorn swirls past Lemm to get in the Shadelord's face, who does not twitch back, but blinks.

And then blinks again.

They can blink.

A hand scrubs across their face. More and more mysterious differences...

...perhaps they could make a mouth.

An uncomfortable thought.

Their other hands drum their claws across the ground, flicking droplets up at Lemm's legs. Yes, yes, both of you, all of you! They get it, alright.

[capitalcurator]

There is a definite undercurrent of flighty humour in the way he's looking at them. A combination of watching them bewilder themselves and also probably because he feels like he just made a point. Also possibly because his emotional state is all over the place, for several reasons.

It's been -

It's been a weird day.

"Splash me again and I'll have to have your little boss discipline you," he deadpans.

And because things are already weird, and he's already hopped worse hurdles today, Lemm strays forward and hooks a hand under their nearest claw, tugging to encourage them to lift it and rest it properly against his hand.

"You're good to go, are you?" he asks, a little more seriously. The worst of the bout of nerves seem to have left him.

[focusedvoid]

They exaggeratedly wince. It's quite a sight coming from such a huge figure.

DON'T
GIVE
IDEAS!

Maybe not completely exaggeratedly. They don't actually know what might happen if Greenhorn decides to try pushing them, literally or figuratively.

The Lord of Shades lifts their claw with Lemm and nods. They're fine if he's fine.

[capitalcurator]

He does snicker at that. They have that effect on him, apparently, where he stops thinking about his reactions before they're already done. It seems quite likely few others who've walked through the door of his shop here nor anywhere else might get to make such a claim.

Lemm hefts their claw under his arm, and gives it a pat with his other hand. He nods back, like they've just agreed to something.

Then he lets go and steps back, and goes to retrieve the hat rack. There's some element of reluctance there, even if that is something he's trying to keep to himself.

[focusedvoid]

Greenhorn is immediately batting at the tendrils on the Shadelord's head. The latter's claws slowly rise, carefully--before they remember that isn't quite necessary. They're both Void. They snatch Greenhorn from midair, much to their internal protest. Hey! They're making them go get their mask! They dramatically smack against the claws, as if they can't just phase through.

Yes, yes, they're going.

The Lord of Shades unwraps from the Fountain and dips their head once more.

Go, go, go!

Yes, alright!

Greenhorn sticks a tendril out to wave at Lemm's back as the whole of them rises, aiming back to the Fungal Wastes. They'll be returning soon.

(They hope.)