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]

It's more than they've ever been given before. Nearly a literal wall of gifts.

They whirl to grab the tweezers, walking past the--the rack. The hat rack, that's included, that they thought he wanted for himself. For hats, coats, umbrellas. They don't have those. No, they have the cloak, don't they. And it's shiny. And the pillows are much more plush than the ones in Dirtmouth. And--

Their movements are jerky and furtive, and they stand staring at the counter before actually remembering to jump up and hand them to him.

All of this is for me? they hunch down and write out, slightly unsteady. They're feeling terribly strange. Not afraid, but it's difficult to look back up--oh.

The Knight can't recall the last time they felt shy.

[capitalcurator]

Lemm admittedly wants to hide under his desk. They had the right idea, actually. He takes the tweezers and ticks them together in his fingers as he squints at their writing.

"Well -" He stumbles to a very quick stop.

Yes? No? What's the right response here, one that won't get him singled out for doing something strange, something others do but isn't expected from him? Right, he had a line for this already, thank goodness for being prepared.

"Well, I certainly don't want it! Not a single item of historical value in the lot, unless you're talking about the thread count. The metalwork's as generic as it gets. You'd be taking it off my hands, I've too much clutter as-is."

There. Sufficiently haughty and detached and...

Lemm would really like to go back to piecing cup shards together, only he can't seem to move. He just sits there staring at them with the tweezers awkwardly poised in one hand like he's going to do something with them but has forgotten what.

[focusedvoid]

The Knight sits down.

The cushion is close, but not right where they're standing, so they land on the counter itself instead with a soft thump.

Lemm's dismissive words don't fool them. Even if he only did wish to get rid of it all, he could easily have shoved them to another part of the building, or shoved into a canal. But...he didn't.

Their mask turns towards the clutter that he saw and instead thought of the Knight. He thought of them enough to hunt some of it down, because those pillows along with the hat rack certainly hadn't been anywhere in their previous visits.

They haven't been offered many gifts before. Their house, yes, that, which even now leaves them reeling when they have a moment to dwell. But otherwise...what had they gotten that wasn't intended for another's use, for furthering another's plans, or plucked up by their own paws rather than simply given?

[capitalcurator]

Lemm knows their tells, but not all of them. And there's context to be considered, which is that they're stressed, their actions are going to look clunky anyway, that doesn't tell him much. And he has just tactlessly offered several things they never asked for and he doesn't make a habit of giving. And they're not reaching for a pen and they don't seem to be getting up again to go and deal with any of that so -

- probably, their note was them being very polite.

Lemm fidgets with the tweezers. Understandable. Better than taking offense.

He begins piecing together the fragments of pottery, cleaning the spilled tea off each one with a cloth. He doesn't have much to say to that.

"If your hands are feeling steady you can help me fit these together," he mutters guardedly. "If you're looking for something to do. I don't need any favours from you at all, you're not my employee." They're free to go, if they like, without feeling like they have to participate in de-cluttering.

[focusedvoid]

They could. They tip their head towards the shards, because they do want to help.

But.

Magnetized, the Knight's head swivels back to all that stuff. No, they aren't feeling steady enough for that. They haven't for their whole visit, and now for multiple reasons.

[capitalcurator]

Never mind the desk, he wishes the ground would eat him.

Lemm silently keeps working. What else is there to do? Order them out of his shop so he can drown himself in embarrassment in private?

They could at least stop looking at the stuff like it's going to be a problem. It's not. He's not making it their problem, it was just an offer. It can stay here, he'll deal with it. They don't have to worry about it. None of this makes it out of his mouth.

"You can just say no," he says dully. This does nothing at all for the leaden feeling in his shell, but at least it might move things along.

[focusedvoid]

Their head snaps back around at him, aghast. They snag the quill to scribble out their thought:

Why would I

[capitalcurator]

Lemm scans their writing in a flash, and gestures irritably - one hand free, the other pinching a shard of cup between the tweezers.

"I don't know! Why would I know?" He jabs the tweezered shard in their direction accusingly, like they're the one being unreasonable and not him. "I'm not in the habit of giving things away, how should I know what you'd want? It stands to reason..."

He falters, registering what their words actually imply. And he retreats a bit back into himself, suddenly feeling very awkward.

"I don't know," he repeats lamely. But he understands, now. Mostly.

[focusedvoid]

There's been an obvious miscommunication, and the Knight...

...is exhausted.

Their head sinks to peer back down at the paper, questions and confusion and upset and shock swirling wildly along with the more positive this is for them behind their mask, and none of it forms into something they can transcribe with ink.

[capitalcurator]

He fidgets with the tweezers a bit longer, managing not to stare at them and instead staring down at the desk instead. Then he glances back over at the things he salvaged for them.

(Looted is a dirty word, but it's hardly that. Technically the Kingdom is the Knight's to pick at, he's basically sanctioned to recycle if it's for them. Reasoning, reasoning, reasoning. With a little sprinkle of kidding himself.)

"Handle twists clockwise under the seat. Thought you might use the extra height." Lemm sets down the tweezers and mimes this vaguely.

He folds his hands in front of his face, and sighs.

"Thought, actually, it might take your mind off a few things. You'll tell me if I'm misstepping."

[focusedvoid]

They nod vigorously. Yes, they would. If they hadn't wanted any of it, they would have been far more clear.

All those things. All those gifts--why, Lemm, would they have ever refused?

They should ask, but they're staring at it all again. They tear their gaze away. They should say something.

Yes. And it's worked. Thank you. The last words are underlined multiple times, but that's not enough. They need to...explain. Say more. Something. Do not speak, whispers their Sibling's voiceless resignation again, but no, it's not anywhere near that. Their mask is going to burst open all on its own with how much is going on within it.

Words are fine only when they work.

The Knight stands and steps around the shattered pieces, holding their arms out loosely.

[capitalcurator]

He'd like to come across as above this sort of anxiety, but Lemm's gaze snaps down to study their next words with subtle intensity. There is a shift in his expression, and in the way he's sitting - less tense, if barely noticeable to begin with - and he looks down at his latest task again.

With the doubting part of him sufficiently quelled, Lemm slips neatly back into the mask of stoicism. He's just a shopkeeper doing a favour for an acquaintance. These things happen all the time. (The pretense that they'd be doing him a turn is, too, dropped, now that he doesn't need to hide behind it.)

"Don't mention it." There is the soft clinking of shards being arranged by fitting edges. "I mean that. I don't need anyone thinking I give things away. Getting other bugs to understand the business - and me - is hard enough as it is. I don't want a reputation for being approachable, it leads to trouble and expectations and I'll have no part of it. ...Ugh, come here," he sighs.

He stops fiddling with the pieces and leans forward far enough to tuck his arm around the Knight's back, sweeping them close, after knowingly making them wait for him to finish talking. His other arm folds around them in a tight squeeze.

[focusedvoid]

The Knight sinks into his hold, face resting flat against his shell.

They know. Gifts aren't something anyone would do for just anyone else, and certainly not Lemm. It just makes it hit all the harder, that he chose to.

How absolutely taut they were holding themselves is only realized when they loosen in Lemm's arms, melting. Somewhat literally, Wing-tips unspooling to hang off them without much notice.

[capitalcurator]

It is all too easy to do this. All things considered, hugging the Knight has felt jarringly ordinary. Good grief, but they're leaning on him - Lemm adjusts his hold, learning on the fly - how they fit, how this works. He's getting better at it. Less stiff, at least.

"Easy," he hears himself say, a little softer than he means to. He didn't expect them to come apart like that. "It's only stuff. Not even valuable stuff, at that. Don't make this dramatic, Knight."

As much as he sounds like he's trying to persuade them into retreating, he isn't actually letting go. If anything he just holds a little tighter. (Safe. He can't solve their problems, he knows he is terribly small in the face of them, but he is here and he is bigger than them right now and he will make them safe.) He tucks his face in and sighs against their shoulder; unwittingly, one hand begins rubbing their back lightly back and forth.

Words are only fine when they work, and the thing is that the Knight has become something he can't name out loud.

[focusedvoid]

Oh, but that feels nice.

They melt into it a little more, until his words properly hit.

They start shaking their head and nearly clip their horns against his face for it, so they pull back just a little to do so harder.

It's not only stuff. They're gifts, and dramatic as it might be, that's important. And he thought they were rejecting it all, so they need to be obvious. The fact they aren't fully letting go, paws and now Shade Wings against him even though it leaves them awkwardly half-clinging, hopefully helps in this impression.

[capitalcurator]

He gives a soft grunt as he flinches out of the way of their horns - watch those, he'd like to scold, if his mind was working properly, but it isn't. It rarely does at times like this.

He tilts his head very slightly as he looks back at them, himself looking strangely subdued. There's very little of a self-reliant business-bug in him here, he's just - searching, softly.

Whatever he's looking for in the Knight's inexpressive face, he seems to find it simply enough.

Lemm shakes his head mutedly and wraps them back up in his arms, taking little notice of the Shade Wings clinging at him. They're part of the Knight; they're not unwelcome.

"Keep coming back," he mutters into their shoulder, and it means something different than it used to. "You've got a key for a reason. And stop listening to me when I come out with rot. I talk a great lot of it."

[focusedvoid]

It's easier to nod pulled against him. He can feel it, surely. They drum their paws against his sides in agreement in case it isn't enough.

They want to do more, still. They want to...explode in a Shriek, which they can't do, and they don't know would truly help. Certainly it wouldn't help both of them, even if they pulled away to keep from doing damage to Lemm and what he owns.

[capitalcurator]

It's a fine answer. In response he settles around them as he did before they pulled away, close and tight and, again, safe. He wants to rub their back, to reassure, to chase off whatever made them so desperate as to look for solace in a grumpy old Relic Seeker's shop of all places. So he does, he can, and he doesn't dread being told to let go.

There are paws around him, too, as far as they can fit anyway, and it serves as a reminder that this goes both ways. Lemm finds himself privately overwhelmed - that this is something he is encouraged to do, something welcome, and that they'd do the same for him.

As it always does when something like this happens between them, the prickly little defensive streak in Lemm shuts up and relaxes, and something pleasantly warm settles in its place.

This is for them this time, and he'll wait until they're ready to pull away properly. Lemm doesn't find himself moodily anticipating that either.

[focusedvoid]

Emotional, overwhelmed, assured even so, the Knight stays there a while.

Sibling, gifts, Lemm. Worries they have. Worries about them. Worries they will tackle as they can. Worries that settle with arms pressing them close, with Lemm's steady breath and pulse (so much softer than the Nightmare's Heart, more noticeable now than before their encounter with it).

They listen. They stop thinking about anything so hard, and just do that. Listen. Breath, pulse, endless rain, gentle together.

Until they start to get heavy.

Literally, from a solid bug-like form to suddenly something entirely full of liquid, sinking down over Lemm's legs, from his arms--

--they jolt and fling themselves back, barely missing the pile of shards as shadows retreat back under their mask.

[capitalcurator]

For a while he thought he might get used to this. Now he's fairly sure he is, or he's getting there. Whatever it is that he can't name them, it clicked into place when he wasn't paying attention, and it makes this so much easier.

It's a while before he takes notice of the way their mask is subtly tilting, the numb-adjacent feeling of Void creeping in as the shape he's holding onto feels bit by bit less solid -

(Lemm holds his position. Perhaps it spooks him, a little. He decides even as he's gingerly loosening his grip around the melting shadow that his nerves should not be their business now, but he steals a glance down.)

- The Knight flinches away from him, and Lemm is cautious not to make a grab this time like he had when they'd spilled the tea.

Hesitantly, he lets his empty hands settle down onto the counter, and he watches them with a carefully-schooled expression, the one that serves as whatever Lemm has that is closest to polite.

"Should I be worried about whatever that was?" First things first.

[focusedvoid]

They sit there for a moment, reorienting.

Alarm belatedly rises, what they could have done--but did not. They hadn't forgotten what they were doing, or where they are. They lean over to look Lemm's shell over, but already, they're not expecting anything. They, the Lord of Shades, didn't feel the familiar dragging that they so feared would cause damage.

The Knight claps their paws on the sides of their mask a few times, shaking their head and semi-rising clarity confirming their suspicions.

I was falling asleep. I believe.

Sorry, they add hasily. They woke Lemm in the first place, and then they nearly sleep on him, literally. That's...embarrassing.

[capitalcurator]

He waits patiently for them to figure out... whatever it is they need to figure out. He is unsettled, but he can't quite chalk it up to abject fear. They've done more frightening things in front of him.

And - importantly, somehow, because not everything is logical - this is his shop.

The Knight looks at him like they expected to leave a mark, and he can't help checking too. All he finds is clean shell. This somehow doesn't surprise him.

Lemm stares at their writing for a short while, betraying nothing.

"Is that so."

Like the pooling Void on the Stagway platform. Lemm considers that. And then he considers the inverse: himself, asleep in the Knight's home. Suddenly embarrassed and not entirely sure why, he averts his eyes and ticks his fingers against the counter.

And then he considers that strange, restless anxiety that had chased him around the City when the Knight declared they'd be going off to some deep, unknown corner of Hallownest to rest there.

Lemm shakes his head, eyes still boring holes down into his countertop. "No harm done."

[focusedvoid]

Good, they write, since he's not looking to see their decisive nod. Confirmation is important.

And then they just sit there, blankly. The only worries in their head are their Siblings', new and old, and are easier to drown out with the sound of rain. Or perhaps their head is full of it.

They shake it, as if it genuinely is, and glance back over at their gifts. Furniture. They can't fit it in their inventory. Not the big ones. Unless they can now? The Lord of Shades can. They...are tired.

I should sleep before flood your shop.

[capitalcurator]

He glances sidelong at their paper, just enough to read, then back at nothing in particular. His hands disappear under the counter.

"Right."

You can sleep here. You should sleep here. There's no room. Is there? I want you to - I would feel better if - it would be safer - Would it? For who?

He starts, and glances around properly, at the clutter, all of it, and the Lord of Shades would never fit in the back room, probably, though from his studies Void is not strictly euclidean -

He looks up reluctantly. "That sounds like a fine idea." What part is he addressing, here. "Don't worry about the - any of that, now. You obviously need to go and get some rest if you're melting on me like that. Leave it here."

[focusedvoid]

Thank you.

...Those aren't enough words.

For the gifts and holding me. It was nice. And they're too tired to be anything but entirely straightforward.

They stand and gesture loosely to Lemm and then to the back room, first. Will he return to sleep? They'd like it if he did.