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]

"The -"

Ah, that is a lot of information at once, and spread out on a page with not much coherence. Lemm tilts a bit to read better. And he doesn't mean to loom, only the angle is awkward...

His line of sight is interrupted slightly by their fist.

...He slumps back into place when he's done, and folds his arms over his chest, thinking. This is a lot. None of it is remotely familiar to him, and he doesn't have good advice, here, not really, just second-hand...

It doesn't take long. He feels strange about leaving them in silence too long here, which might be why his answer isn't exactly thought-through.

Nor is it verbal at first. Lemm settles a hand on their head. Give him a minute. Give them a minute. But he's here, regardless.

[focusedvoid]

The Knight isn't giving the outside world attention. When Lemm's hand touches them, they flinch.

--And the tea is upset. Not nearly all of it, but a few warm lines dump down their cloak and leg. Both jerk them from drawing further into swirling misery. They pat Lemm's wrist and gingerly scoot forward to keep any more of it from spilling over the pillows.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm almost jumps for his life as well. It's not like this is familiar, sitting next to someone and trying to -

- Unimportant, there is tea everywhere. It's all over the Knight and it's - liquid, so it's going to be all over his bed, he's going to have to sleep on that, but it's also all over the only guest he's got, all of this is bad at the same time -

The Knight will find themselves unceremoniously swept up under the arms and held, awkwardly, by a Relic Seeker who is now on his feet and didn't quite mean this at all. He is still in the moment. He is probably about to be horrified.

[focusedvoid]

WHAT--

The teacup goes flying (to the floor, thankfully, sparing the pillows from further abuse) along with the paper, and the Knight catches themselves before they can snatch their Nail free. Lemm gets a tangle of Wing flapping and wrapping wildly around his arm and part of his beard in agitation before they fully realize what's happened, and they force themselves to hang still.

Somewhat more calmly: what. They peer back over their shoulder.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm flinches his face away instinctively, though he also doesn't immediately put them down. This is a mess. He registers an unpleasant noise, one he's not remotely fond of. The moment settles.

The moment settles, and: he is standing, holding the Knight like some offending stray beast caught going at a pantry, and there is a bit of tea dripping from them, but really not enough to warrant this, now that he's entirely present and thinking about it.

There is tea all over his floor. Amid shards of shattered cup, because the floor is hard. He stares at that.

Then he stares at the back of the Knight's head, suddenly unsure quite what to do with them. (There is Void tangled at him, in places. Not sure what to do about that especially. Can he put them down, even?)

...He puts them down, slowly, just sinks them to the floor until their feet are touching and very, very gingerly lifts his hands away, flared out like he's making a point of not touching, any more, see. See how he's backing off from what he just did. See. Look.

His hands come back to clasp awkwardly at his front, rubbing. He waits for their Wings to recede.

[focusedvoid]

Lemm sets them down carefully; part of them was expecting to be unceremoniously dropped.

They're discombobulated enough the tendrils of Void stay for a few long moments before snapping back to rest.

The Knight turns around and stares up at him, then down to the teacup pieces. And the growing tea puddle. Which is encroaching on the paper. They duck down to pick up the paper before more than a corner can be dampened, and then stare further at the shards.

Several quick things just happened after several more, longer, stressful things. They look back at Lemm helplessly. Again, unspoken (yet feeling very loud behind their mask): what?

[capitalcurator]

He's still standing there. They're looking at him. He didn't mean to do that. (He can't say.)

He's staring - at them, at the tea, spreading into the grooves between the tiles, he should do something about that.

No, first, the Knight. But either thing means leaving the room.

Lemm is too old to be paralysed by this. He presses a hand to his forehead and slides it up his horn, frowning.

"That was stupid of me," he says out loud. Sorry won't come. Most things don't. "Hold your thoughts, will you."

He determinedly disappears out past the curtain.

[focusedvoid]

They watch him go with a twisting in their chest, mostly drowned out by their settling bewilderment.

He grabbed them to stop the tea from spilling, they realize. But made it worse. Panicking? They're not sure why tea is worse than the endless spilling outside--though they suppose there's no leaks directly above the pillow pile.

...They broke a relic. A relic Lemm was using. There's guilt, now, and it's almost fully their own.

Shade Wings reach out and start prodding the fragments out of the puddle and into a pile.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm is reminded when he exits into the main shop just how disorganised he is right now. Nothing's where it should be, and it wasn't to begin with. All the rain in the City of Tears and he doesn't even know if he has a towel.

He snatches up a cleaning cloth he left on the counter and tries to tell himself it doesn't matter it still smells strongly of metal polish. On the way back he also swipes up an antique scuttle, because he can't find anything better to put trash in.

When he hurries back in, he thunks the scuttle down on the floor and immediately waggles the cloth at the Knight to try and shoo them away from the mess.

"Let me. S'my fault. Here."

[focusedvoid]

The Knight takes a step away from the puddle, but lifts their tendrils to wriggle the tips vaguely in his direction. They suppose that's true, but regardless of fault, they can assist. Lemm doesn't currently have a broom or dustpan, and these don't have sensitive joints to cut into like a bug's hands.

[capitalcurator]

The cloth is lightly tossed at the Knight's proferred Void tendrils, and he gestures to them, at the tea. They should clean themselves up.

Lemm kneels and begins tinking the shattered wet ceramic piece by piece into one cupped hand. This is easier for it all being in one pile like that. They've helped enough, and anyway guests shouldn't tidy. So he's heard.

(He pauses briefly over a large fragment with most of the shiny handle still on it. Narrows his eyes.)

"Keep writing when you're ready. Didn't mean to interrupt."

[focusedvoid]

They hover, but after a moment, realize they're being--absurd. This isn't the first broken thing Lemm's had to clean up. And the tea is a problem. The cloth is transferred to their paws and they start mopping it up, as well as the bit they can feel on their legs.

Their own last few sentences are reread once they soak up most of the mess. Lemm's overreaction jarred them firmly into the here-and-now, if nothing else. The Knight's paws are perfectly steady.

They loosely underline I am afraid to look and stop again. Deciding where to go next about this is no less difficult.

My apologies. For the mess this time.

[capitalcurator]

The pieces are dumped unceremoniously in the scuttle; Lemm is meticulous, plucking the tiniest chips of porcelain off the floor just to be thorough. He rises and comes to take the cloth when they're done, sparing a glance at the page as he wipes his hands off.

"Don't be ridiculous," he retorts. "Grabbed you like a tiktik. Not your fault."

He returns to the puddle of tea and kneels to mop it up with the cloth.

"Sounds like it was dumped on you like a pile of stone journals," he muses, distractedly thumbing the damp fabric at the edge of a tile and examining the result disdainfully. "Probably good to remember you don't have to go through it all at once. Probably best you don't."

[focusedvoid]

Fair enough.

They think a moment before exaggeratedly stretching their Wings--see, they could've taken off if he'd asked! (They're teasing.)

...That's reasonable advice. They dip their head. But.

I'll avoid trying. But I'll need to eventually. It is as if
they gave me those memories and emotions. I know they are not my own, but I feel them nearly as vividly.
For example, you used this cup for them. Or one like it. The tea was darker. They were unsettled by the steam and did not see the seal art. They had not held a teacup before but knew they were capable of it after healing.

It's less unsettling sharing with their other Siblings. But that's likely due to how few memories the others have at all.

[capitalcurator]

A glance over his shoulder tells him what that faint shift is. They get a short hmph in response.

He finishes dabbing at the floor and drops the cloth in the scuttle with the rest of the mess. Out of sight, out of mind, for now.

When he turns to rejoin them he's buried his embarrassment very well. Not even fidgeting. Why don't they - just pretend that never happened. He peers at their paper.

It's... kind of disconcerting to know there are experiences being passed along. Weirder that it's anything he was involved in. Lemm doesn't think he likes it much; this is neither here nor there.

"Aye, well, I mean not all of it at once - not none of it, never. Dip in and out. That's my advice. Never finish an account in one sitting if you can't make it through without a fight." Unsettled. Well, that's about how he felt for most of the encounter, so maybe that's fair. (That's petty.) "You can tell them it was camellia, if that means anything."

Lemm folds his arms, thinking hard.

"Never held a teacup..."

And all the rest that implies, that's the unspoken part. He waits to see what the Knight will say to that.

[focusedvoid]

Lemm's words get a tiny nod. True. They still fear most of it. A part of them does wish to dive in and get it over with...but that wouldn't work. They can't absorb it all this way, or it would have been over before they left the Den. Trying again would be nothing but self-torture. A wry and rueful thought: no, that's what their sibling is better at.

The Knight hasn't had much chance to hold teacups in their past either. This is...different.

It may. They were never taught such things, nor sat in where others drank or ate, but they have many memories of the Infected. (I received few of those.)

The Knight turns and drops heavily on the pillows again, staring down. They aren't sure if they should've shared that, knowledge with layers of shame coating it that are
different from the rest.

I don't know I should I have their permission to share all. Because I am their King. I can do anything I wish. and you are important to me, I've told them about you as my ally and then friend earlier.
I wish to share pieces so we can go over them. but there is it doesn't seem right.
and I do not want to pass this along as the King. or even

They stop before they can write again about being the deserving one, the Vessel that did not fail.

[capitalcurator]

He thinks about that, looking properly engaged, running short claws down his beard and frowning. He thinks about the Hollow Knight in his shop looking more like a bedraggled thing hauled in from the rain than he'd really expected them to. Answers they hadn't given, stiff and still as the statue outside. Answers they had given, in strange, small ways. Hints, more like. More daring than it had looked, maybe. Never held a teacup - I won't be the only one stumbling my way through this interaction, then. We've both had little practice. He hadn't expected to be that right about it.

(He tries very hard not to snag on important to me. That's not the point, it's - not the point, Relic Seeker, you've a duty here. Focus.)

"...Hrm." Translation: he's thinking. He doesn't understand, not yet, it's - he has to look at it through a few different lenses, first.

There are accounts of those in service of greater purpose, taking their angle to extremes. It feels like a similar story, but reasonably it's not - all the agency is gone. Besides, what the Knight is saying is personal, they're saying something is wrong with the Hollow Knight. Similarly, like there was something wrong with the Knight hiding under his counter...

Ah. Yes, that does it. There is an unpleasant pang at that, and Lemm holds onto it. Important to... Like that. It is the point, actually. Abruptly, he blurts out:

"Well, you should look at it how you want to look at it." He flaps a hand vaguely. "Never get bogged down in what someone else thinks of you. If the Hollow Knight thinks you're the King of Hallownest that's their problem. You're their sibling. You want -" pause, stop. He narrows his eyes at them. "You do want to be their sibling...?"

[focusedvoid]

They nod sharply.

I do. But they They don't It is my problem. I am the King despite that being unwanted.
I am their Sibling. They have nothing else but a title they never should have had, feel they do not deserve, and devotion to duty that does not exist. How they see me matters. to both of us.
What they will allow of me is more than they should have ever thought to give.
I want to help

Inside their chest, the Voidheart is a solid weight. They press their itchy Branded hand against it, as though either would be fixed.

and I do not know how. as Sibling or as King. I do not want to be King. They're repeating themselves. I can try but I don for their sake. but I am unequipped. That is what I am most frightened of. I cannot kill I have killed all the problems for them I could already. I cannot combat their way of thought with Nail and Soul.

The Knight has stumbled into their own uncertain past countless times, killed seemingly-unstoppable Gods, confronted fear they didn't know they were capable of, nearly killed and removed half of a friend's very being and have yet to solve that fully--

--and yet this, now, feels more daunting than any of that combined.

The mass of pillows have perfectly good crevasses to partially press into.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm was reasonably expecting that not to solve much, and it doesn't seem to disappoint him so badly.

"Pah," he responds quietly to their rebuttals, in a deliberately de-fanged sort of way. "Well, my advice was never going to be any good here. No siblings," he adds, to explain it. As if this is the most ordinary conversation in the world, like the Void and King's Brand and the Hollow Knight's legacy don't factor in and it's simply basic sibling drama.

They do factor, but he is an ordinary bug. What use is he with any of that?

"Look, you've come to the wrong bug for social advice - aye," he interrupts himself, noticing them retreat into the pillows, and pats a hand lightly on one near their face to attract their attention. Still with him? "But it's not about being equipped. If it was about being equipped..." He stumbles to a halt.

"...Don't be King at them, that's all I'm saying, if you're no good at it. From everything I've read the King's main function was to look like he knew exactly what he's doing, so don't give them false impressions. I haven't bothered pretending at you like I'm a - like I'm -" he makes a whirling hand gesture with his other hand "- Marissa the Songstress. And it's gone shockingly well anyway, hasn't it! Well, it hasn't gone horribly. You're still here."

[focusedvoid]

But they'll still think like that. They can feel their Sibling's desperation, and they don't know what will dissuade them--

--but. But. Lemm is right.

The Knight rests a paw on the edge of his arm, very gently, so he can pull away if he wishes. And then taps it, at the comparison. The mental image is distractingly entertaining, as they presume was intended.

...No, they're not a King, no matter what the Brand was intended for. They can fake it, they can try and pretend, but it won't hold up over time if attention is given. Certainly not with one they can communicate with on such a clear, intimate level. It would cause both of them pain in the long run.

The advice is helpful. Your head is much clearer than mine in this. Thank you.

It doesn't help much in knowing what to do, perhaps, but eliminating an unreasonable idea is still a step forward.

[capitalcurator]

He very pointedly does not pull away. He does glance down, just for a split second, like he's trying not to get caught in the act of looking, but it's brief.

"Hm."

Short, dismissive, and makes him sound fairly unconvinced. Still, if the Knight says it's helpful, he can't exactly argue without implying they're a liar. Which they are not.

Lemm snaps his gaze away from them entirely and just sits there looking thoughtful for a little while.

"So you say, but that's the end of it! I've no more to say about it. Sorry," he adds, half-muttered, tacked on like a last-second regret.

But, while he's already talking, and since their hand is on his arm so really they started it:

"You're good at being stubborn - do that. It'll... work itself out." There. Advice and reassurance. Some bugs do this all the time. (It sounds so clunky when he says it.)

[focusedvoid]

Lemm seems unbothered by the touch. So they let it stay, firmly slamming their concerns about that away. They just said he's one with a clear head; if he didn't want them to be doing so, they'd be shooed off. He isn't made of glass. The Knight isn't, either, no matter how shattered they felt stumbling their way in.

Be stubborn. Hm. I can do that.

Apologies for not waiting to come in. As much as he isn't lingering on it, and as much as they did need to be knocked out of their spiral, they're still rather unhappy they startled him out of bed.

[capitalcurator]

Oh, he can't believe they let that slide. People say those sorts of platitudes all the time, but he could never quite understand why. He still sort of doesn't, but less so.

Another soft little pfeh and Lemm shakes his head, still not looking at them.

"Nonsense. You're -" that sentence sticks, suddenly, and he abruptly changes tack. "I gave you the key, didn't I? S'not like anyone keeps solid hours down here, so any way you look at it it's my own silly fault."

What he can't say, he might communicate. Lemm shifts his arm from under their paw - only to pat them on the head reassuringly.

"And I broke the cup, so don't go apologising for that either." A beat. He tilts his head and stares at nothing, his hand lingering awkwardly between their horns. "Maybe it'll glue. Been here since the previous owner, that set."

[focusedvoid]

He's trying, and he's...likely not wrong. They panicked. This feels so much bigger than they are, but wasn't it just the same, after they thought they might've ruined Myla's mind?

The Knight shakes their head a little. Not his fault.

So not theirs, either. They press their head into his hand more firmly.

...Now that he's brought it up, they want to again. The pieces looked large enough.

[capitalcurator]

His hand stays where it is. It's almost like he's forgotten where he's put it, only that can't be true because he obviously felt them push back.

"Ah. I could fix far worse," he brags, naturally, "but a broken blade's worth more to a Relic Seeker than a brand new one, so to speak."

He glances back at their writing again, and looks contemplative.

"...But that was just something that was here when I moved in. Cheap stuff, I've seen others like them in other dwellings. The owner was a tacky sort." Wistfully - or perhaps almost fondly: "I might find the glue."

Lemm pats them once more on the head and eases himself up onto his feet with a decisive sigh.

"Come, you. I've some junk to offload on you, you unlucky little trespasser. Might as well have you pay your dues for breaking and entering."