#Guardians especially Exo don't fare well

[spacexmagicxandxsheepxbleats]

"Calus...?", she echoed his questioning tone, a slow tilt of her head, the aged charms adorning her helm clinking softly with the motion.

Drawing her hand back, taking a step back as she did so, Mar took to looking the Exo over, as if inspecting him for damage.

W̷͈̣̰̉̈̏̓̚͝i̶̧̜̝͙̯͉͂̈̄̍̌̍̔̒̈́̕l̵͈͈̭̈́͘l̸̡̥̤̱̙͚͛͠ ̶̧̣̱̝̝̞̑́͐̋̂y̶͕͔͕̋́̏ȏ̶̧̡̰̦͇̗̱̾̍͑͛͘͜͝͝ù̴͖̺ ̴̧̛̬̀̀̂̐b̶̨̢̫̼̤̥̬̬̰̰̑̌͛̍͆ȩ̶̨̟̪̰̹̬͎̤̅̑́̓͊̎́̌̂ ̵̡̗̼̈́̌̾͒̇̚f̵͔̯̳̍̾̃̍ï̵̮̲̞̲͈̙̐̈̿͊̾̕̚͜n̸̖̅̇̉̆ē̸̱̙͉͍̟̝ ̵̻̹̳̪͑̈́͜͠t̷̥̠͈̥͇̜͓̠̒͘ḩ̴̨͔͙̖͔̹͓͖̟͒̋̂̏̓́̈͆̚ơ̷̤̏̇̾͘͝u̷̦͍̿̔̇̽́̀͗͊͘̕ġ̴̞̦͕̪͑̋́̅̆̕͜͝͝͝h̴̛͕̗̬̫̟͍̏̔̀?̸̢̠͓͍͆̅̋

It was her Ghost that spoke, spanning the silence between the two.

Like his Risen, he was just as ratted. Just as ancient and weathered, his shell crumpled in spots, rusted through in others, chipped, welded...moss grew in the nooks around his cracked and flickering 'eye'.

G̶̡͈̰̲͙̱̭͐̉͗̈́͒̀̔͑͝u̶̳̪̦̩̒̏a̵̛̖͙̞͌͑͝r̶̙͕̰̓̽̉̒̅̄͌ḑ̸͉̯̙̉͆̍̐̀̍̄̈̚ị̸̢̛̝̥̣̝̘̜͉̼̍̈́͊̀͋̇̃̚͘a̷̢͖̞̳̪̦̲̝͕͊̊̏́̌͆͋͠ņ̸̘̠̰͋͘s̷̹̟̮̪̩̱̰̬̖̄͂̅͊̐̀͐͆͐͜,̴̡̤̠̗̼͉͖͇̭̾̂̈́ ̷̹͍̣̬͙̫̖̈́̍̊̓e̶̬̊͛̃̉͘s̶̢̧̲͍̤̜̯̗̎̎͌͛̆͂̚͜p̴̧̳̪̜̙̖̙̃͗ȩ̴̨͔̣̫̹̗̦̭͑̎͌̈́̔ͅc̶̰̠̦̗̜̥̦͇̤̹̒̑̌̈́͑͗̂̑̕i̴̥̝̳͍̼̠̽͒͌͑̃̀͊a̴̧̮̱̻̦͚̮͛̀̄́̊l̷̡̜͎̪̭̪̤̣̐͘l̸̯̟̓̽̏̔͘͜͠ͅy̷̡̢̗̘͇̳͇̠͆ͅ ̸̢͚͇̮̤̭̀͋̋͂͜ͅ��͙E̴̝̼͂̎̌̊͆̈̚̕͝x̵̩̓͛̔̀͠o̴̩̰̭̣͙̟̍̓̍̍ͅ,̴̞͖̦͚̼͓̠̒̃̓͆̃̂̕͝ ̴̡̛̪̦̗̭̥̉̃̔͂̊̓ͅd̸̟͕͖͎̥̀́͋̏ǫ̶͈̮̩̤͙͖̲̲͔̃͑̿͗̏̚͝͠͝n̴̨̛̗͔̳̼̩̏̇̏͘̕ͅͅ'̴͓̘͉̯̽̊̑̆͋̕ţ̸̞̠̮͉̝̹̣̎͂ ̴̧̡̲̟͖̞̰̬͍͜͝f̶͇̼̩̪͔̪̊ȁ̷̜̠͈̲̰̀̌̌͜r̵̹͈̪̲̮̲̻̪̉͒̌̈́̎ͅe̶͕̦̟͊̀̀͐͘͝ ̵̢̛̘̱̟̯̪͎͓̲̿̈́̽́́̄͝ẁ̸̡̢̛̙̭͍̰̞̩͑̔̾̕͜͠͝͝e̸̥̓l̸̛͛̑̐̋̀͜l̵̛̜̝̠̥̱̗͋̎

His distorted vocals were interrupted by a soft sigh from Mar, "...a rabbit...", she murmured, as if correcting the Ghost.

W̷͎̰͖̞̘̦̜̑̍̇̕ͅḫ̵͓̪̜̺̍̋̍ͅa̴̲̹̩̘̱̺͂t̴̢̪̣̩͙͍̹̥̫̻̉̋͋̂̓̎͝è̶͇͉̦͕̯̹͙̣̼͌̊̆v̸̢̧͈͎͇̱̝̟̝͔̽̔e̸̥̓͐̿͛̄̚̕ṛ̷̢̼͎̖͊̔̀͊͒̒̊͑̉͝ ̷̢̤͉͓͈̮̫̯͙͒̌͘̕y̴̤̪̩̅̓̀̚o̵͙̖̮͑̓ų̷͈̮͚͍̖̮͗͘ ̶͇̌̓̍̓̐͆ͅș̴̩̯̭̹̥̊a̶̛̤̟̪̫̼̬̯̥͚̅̑̄̚̕ỵ̷̂.̷̢̢̣͇̹̀̀.̴̪̻͈̍̐̋̈̆̈́̈.̴͍̂̀̿̿̑̓̑ ̶̤̳͚̝͇̑̇́͊L̴̢̞͈̯̘̪̖̖̕͜͝o̶͈̘̬͔̠̥̞̾̆̾̀̓̑́͒̚ò̸̲̳͖̱͈̠̘̻̂́̕͘k̶̺̳͖̰͓̼̖̯̊̄̆,̵̛̰͓̼̫̳̰̠͚͓̓́͛̈́ ̵̛͓̘̘̱̞̪̱̙̓̍̌́͂͐͝s̸̹̓̏h̸̛̛̲͎̣̠́̒e̸̜̪̤̙̗͚̦͇̹͈͑̐͗̔̓̉̈́̑̈́'̴̛̝̹͆̈́̐́͐́s̵̤̆̋̂͐̆̌̔̄ ̵̢͖̤͚͙͇̟̄̎͊̀͊͆̑̍͗̕͜ą̶̱̪̞͈̮̘̖͉̍̈́̓͑̐͜ ̴̨̧̣͕̳͓̐͒̊̉̈́̀̊͜l̶̦̹̩̞̊̆̌̃̀̃̈́̆͗i̵̧̧̳͉̜̳̖̰̠̬̒̿̾́͐̇̐̈́̕ţ̸̳̜̣̗̜͒̆̇͆̋̃̃̕͠͠ẗ̴͙̳̫̹͖̣̖̱̹́̈́̎̂̔̆̕͘l̷̩͂e̵̳̊͊̿̈͌̾̐̕̕͝,̶͓͕͇̥̂͛̏͑͘ ̴̡̹̭̯̬̒͑̐̽̈̕͝͠ͅs̵̡̳͔̘͖̘͔̽͗͜c̶̨̒̈́̏͐͑̈͋̈́̚͠r̵̢͈͈̥̯͍̓̌̒̏̊͛̈́̋͜ā̸̢̜̃̀́̆̄̿̅̊m̷͕͌͘b̶̞̀l̷̲̱̘̇́͋͐e̶̡͚̤͓͉̝͆̔̍̀͆̈́͝d̸̡̘̙̼̟̝̙͙͠,̴̧͙̱̗͚̝̠̞̩̇͜ ̵͚̪̇̊̆̎͌̕̚͝ȋ̶̧̝̳̜͉͉̲̘̖̃͒̏̊̾͐̚f̵̧̢̰̖̠̭̟͖͒̏̿͆̔̋̀̿͂͝ ̶̜͈̒̂̓̓ÿ̵͕́o̵̮̪̗̙̍ů̴̖̫̝̹̹̟̖̺̥̠̅̆̂̐̑̈́͘͝͝ ̵̘̪̭̥̃̽͛̾̈́̑̅̕g̷̨̯̀e̷̬̭̍̕t̸̛̫̱̏͊͌̓̊̾̚ ̴͇̍̈̀͛̊̈́̇͠m̸̧̪͍̙̼͈̦̳̊̿̐̎̈́̊̓̽͆̚y̴̧̨̭̯̪̫͍͠ ̷͍̠̺̅̏̉͆͝m̴̊��͙̯̲̠̦͌e̴̠̺̱͇͙̤͐͒̈́̾͛͐̾̔̚a̷̖̠̫̺̗͂̑̐̃͛ń̷̡̰̮̼̰̯̘̽̿͊͆͝ĭ̸̺̤̃n̸̥̤͍̪̜̎̉̐͆͌̾̑͝͝g̸̞͔͔̳̗͚̦̈.̵̬̻̾̆ ̷̰̝͍͖̱̖͓͔̫͍͗̓̂̽D̴̖͍̠̤̯̊̅̀̆̆̿ů̸͇̥͎̺̝̟̯̫̾́̒́̕͜n̸͎̞͓̆̒͘͘ņ̴̨̺͎̭͉̤̟̀͑͒͂͝͠ö̶͈͉̝̖̝̲̠͑̎̊͊͐̆̉̚͜ ̷͙̼͚̌͗͂̊͗̆̅́͝͠h̷̺̭̏͋̄̊͐̓͆̚͝ͅo̶͇̪͚̥̝̗̥̞͗̆͜ẘ̸͇̗̂̿̆͊̒͑̽̀ ̵̨̢̧̲̯͎͙̅ͅl̴̢̀͗̇̚o̵̡̨͈̯̦̊̎̓́̌͌̒́̎̿n̴̢͙̜͚̫̹͖̹̣̝̊͒̾́͊͝͝g̷̣̳̠͔̼̹̱͎̜̊̄͌̍͌̽͠ ̴̧̼̯͚͈̲̥̣̈̽ͅs̵̲̮̪̖̰̭̞̎̒̏͛͒̈́͂͒h̸͔̱̰͎͕̗͋̽͗͋͝e̵̡͎̫̅̃'̷̣̦͙̽͐̃l̶̨̼̫̰͚̮̗̪̫̉̃͠l̸̮͔͉͇̖̳̣̖̻͒ ̸̧̭͈͎̏̏̈́́̐̚ͅs̸̭͙̹͚͔̲̳̬̅̽̋͋ȩ̶͇͓̬̭̤͙̽̎̃̐̎ȩ̴̜͍̜̦͕̬̿͌͆̍̄͒͋̀̐̂ ̴͕̿̍͊̊́̽̚ỳ̷̨̨̮̹͉͍̝̉̿̚ō̸̺͙̞͖̿͋͑̿̽͌̑͠͠ư̸̡̠͙̯͙̖̳̖̹̇̽̈́̆̚͜͝ ̵̡̨͈̗͙̾̐͑̑̏͐͋͘ą̶͍̩̻̦̗̬͚̄̍͘ͅs̴̘̲̺̣̘̠͖̱͓̣̐͐̓̚ ̴̙̰̬̾̾ā̷̡̢̬̤̼͕̏̽̒̆̽̽ ̷̢̱͔̈́̊̈́̌͠b̴̲̘̣̝̼͈̺̯̂̏̌̋ũ̷̙͖̟̖̘̍̄͜ͅǹ̵̺̖͖͉̩̟͜͝ń̶͕̞̘́̋̄̕͝ÿ̴̡̧̗̙̭̤́̈́ ̶̝̞̜͚̘̞͖͓̼̻͐͘b̵͕̻͖̉u̷̡̜̰̬̣͊̏̉̀̓͒̕͜͝ţ̸̰̬́ ̵̫̎ę̸̬͚̤̳͇̺́̑́͋̃̀̇͐͝v̴̧̗̪̰̮̀̉̌́̀̊̇̌̊̏ę̵̙͇̭͇̫̒̆͑̽͛͝n̸̡̡̰̺̫̱̻͎̓̈́͌̏̈́͘t̴̡͈̹̭͈͕͌̎̄͊̀̒̈̈́̍ų̷̱̥̱͙͖̺̺̱̩̑̆̽̽̋͑̔̕͠a̵͔͋̎̀̒̔͛̎̈́͝l̶̜̖̩̖̳̲̅̎̉̿̒̎͐͑̕̕l̶̡̳͍͍̬̋͘y̶̡͍̮͚̘̓̈́̊͜ ̷̦̜̫̩͂̊͗ȟ̵̙̭̤͍̈̌͗̔͗̕̚͠e̷̪̞͍͋̒̍͆̾͝͝ͅr̴̥͊͆͘ ̷̧̛̬̪̰̽̆̒̋̀̿͊͘̕b̴͎͓̺̦̼̜̎͌r̶͔̺̗̗͕͋́͐͋̑̒̀͠ạ̸͈͕̓͑͌̔̓̚ḭ̶͓͔̙̣̍̆̾́́̒͝͝ǹ̸̥̮́̄̏͝͝ ̶͚̀̉̓̒̿̍w̶̻͝o̸̪͙̻̩͖̙̗̍́̓̽ȑ̸͕̈͛m̵̺͈̦̥̀̇ŝ̷̛͖̝͌͐̊̅̒͌͠͠ ̸̞̝̭̖̫͑ạ̵̡̧͍͉̝̘̙͕̋̀̇͋͌̆r̷̛̲͓͎̟̙̘̫̰͆̈͒͒ȩ̵͙͐ ̶̨̫͙̥͎͓̺͆̽̉̍͝͝g̴̢̧̫̞̥͎̺̦̤̀̄̊̏͐̎͝͝o̷̧̢̧͙̤̟̹͎͌͆̑͗͐͋̂̊́͝ï̸̛̛͈̮͇͇̆͒̒͗̂͠ͅñ̷̼̹̅̚͠g̸̲͉̖͑̍̒̀̆̏̈ ̷̟̼̫̪̘͕̄̓͑̐̑t̴̨̗͉͑̒̀̀̊̒̐õ̴̼͍͙͉̭̖̀͌́̓͊̌́͘͝ ̸̝̳̹͍̠̠̠̺̣͑̂g̸͓̹̳͖͙͑͌̇́͒̑̓́e̷̟̗͗͂͐́͑̀��t̸͖̪̹͉͚̲̠̱͈̘̉̿͊̄ ̶̨̛͉̠̻͕̪̱̲̲̀͒̍̎͜b̵̢̞̥̺͓͙̦̾̒́͐̾̑̊̿͜o̴̥͖̭̖̫͌̍̈́̍̓̐̉̈́͠r̴̨̭̼͇̜̳̳͙̉e̸̢̜̭̫̓̚d̶͉͇͖͕̾̑̌̄̓̎̆̿́̃ ̵̼̯͎̯́̈́͋̀̇̉̈̚͜a̷͖͖̘̤̙̭̤̿ń̴̛̘͑̆̀d̶͖̲̎͋̾̈͝ ̴̤͍̟̬̭̹̟̥̈̐̄͝͝ş̴̧̡̛̤̠̜͔͕̈h̴̢̫̻͍̘̹̔͛́̚ͅe̸̛̼̼̟̠͚̞͇͌͜'̴̧̜͖͖̺̯̖̠͐̀̍s̸͇̗̯̰̼͒̍̆̉̆͛̉̾̅ ̴̛̣̠̲̳̗̥̉̄́ġ̷͍̦̞̌̐̽͜͝o̴̙͍̥͖̲̼̳͈͂̿̆̈́̏͑̏͝i̶͕̘̗̻̇̂͗͌̈͋̈́̒n̸͍͔̭͙͔̣̮̲͒̌̇̅̓g̸̨̘̠̬̩̈͑͗̚ ̸͈̜̈́ͅt̴̤̭̲̉̈́̒̈́o̷̡͕̩̮̮̒͘͜͝ ̸̮̬̭̜̇̑s̸͍̺̏̎̉͑̈́͠͝n̶̡̢̛͉͈̆̄͑̓̅̓̑̚a̸͕̰͉͖͕̳͔̹̐̾͊̃̏̀̆́̀͝p̸̘͈̊̀̆̈͆̌̍ ̸̝͆̈́̎̕o̶͔͚̭̻̰͚͓̰̘͛͜u̴̢͉͖̻̗̤̱̮̹̓̉̒̌͜t̴͙͎̣̤̯͕̂̃̿̽͋͑̈́̓̚͠ ̵͙̳̜̙̲̍͗̾̔̊̈́̕͘͘͠o̷̹̳̰̗̖̙̻̙̊f̸̢̮̝̙̖̤̬̘̙̍̓̓̾̐̾̏͂̀ ̸̡̯͋̈́͂̅̐͛̄̑i̶͉̞̤̟̻̳͙͉̽̐̄̇̄ẗ̵̡̢̢̡̬͎̟̻͙̱́̔̿.̷̡̢̾̽̈́.̸̢͙̝̻͇̞̩̑̈̆͛͂͆͌͘.̴͚͐͐̓͝

"Come...", motioning for the man to follow her Mar turned and started away from him...

U̵̗̝̱̲̣̗͙̥͗́̔͜ͅp̷̧̨̰̻̬͉̦̲̠̤̾̊̑̇̿̑͝ ̶̗̍̂̀̔́́̚ţ̵̛̱̥̱͕̟̏̇̋ő̵͙̊̐̎͌̉̕ ̸̺̩̬͇̣̅́̽y̴̠̩̔͒̀͐̌͠͠ó̶̧̩̤͖̙͖͕̣̞́̕ͅṳ̶̰̥̤̥̙̳̯̂̿̃̑̑̕̕ͅ ̵̧͕̋̐͌͛͂̾b̶̧̗͕̳͓̭͖͇͊́̊̂ụ̶͗̾̈́͂̃̋͜n̵̨͗̀ń̶̮̋̽͒̂ý̷̛̬̟̦͇͉̮̩̑̽̊̔̕ͅͅͅ ̵̧̼̲͍͓̙̪̫̓͂͛́͑͑͊̋ṃ̸̢̗̓̎͠à̶̢̻̭̘̣̞̣͕̩̣̉̾̀̄́̚͝n̷̮̭̗͑̄͛͊͐͒̇̚͜͝ͅ ̶͈̇̓͗̽̉̂̀ǐ̷̠͙̐͗̽́̐̍͑͝ͅf̶̩̹̈̾͝ ̸̪͎̖̮͇̲̥̍͋̀̊̐̈́̚y̴̢̻̑̈́̎̈́o̸̝̖̠̰̱̽͛̊̋̈͛̀͌͐͠u̷̖̱͓̝͋̾͌̾̒ ̴̢̪͔̲̘̩͇͂̑͋͒̒̽͒̂̕͝ͅͅw̷͍̠̞̙̤̱̒́̕ä̵̼̩̜̘̹́́́̄͗̐̚͠n̶̯̣̳̓͒̀́͆͐ͅͅṇ̸̳͆̿̒͌ậ̷̣̤̬̦̭̝̣͇̈͌̈́̒̚͝ ̵͈̞͍̹͖͑̀͋͊̃̕s̸̹͓͈̣̞̥̳̽̑͒̀̄̉́͘͝e̵̟̰̳͎̪̥̠̅̄́̏̂̓͜͠ͅḛ̸̢̧̥̱̩͎̹̹̫̄͝ ̴̱̦̗̰̪̺̟̖̬͐̆̒͜͝h̷̻̜̬̲̅̇͐̒͊̍͠ọ̵̭̪͎̓͐̈́́͜͝w̴̧̭̟̩̍̀͌̈́̐̀̅̿̒͠ ̷͉͎̾̄͜��̮̤̜̹͓̱f̷̮̠̦̤͈̗͛̀̇̏̑̔̈̂͘ȁ̷̱̪͕͂̋̽́̚͝͠ͅr̴̫͉̣̺͔̎̂̃̀́́̈͘͝ ̶̨͎̈́͒̓̈́̍̚̕̕͝͝t̶͍͇̠̞̭̲̝̙̖̽͗̉̕͝h̷̢͈̲̣͊̌̒̏́̏̚e̷̳̺̍͂̋̕͝ ̶̰̻̜͕͚̋̏͂͛͐̄̄͝r̴̬̮̗͎̣͚̆̃̈́̂̚̕̕͝a̷͍͇̝͌̿͂̇́̉͆̉b̶̺̘̟̙͇͕̼̭̟̯̂̓̄͂̾̕̚͝͝b̷͙͎̥̼͙̦̲̏̅̍͋̔͜͝ͅͅì̴̡͚̪̗̠̦̥ͅͅt̵̟̗͙̰̋̋͗̑̀ ̴̱͉̩͖̬͔̦̋͊͜͜h̶̪̣̞͚̒̄̓̐͊̇̏͝ǫ̴̦̻̱̼͊͊͌͆͐̾l̸͔͈̺͚̇̀̀͜͠ē̵̡̺͔̦̟̪̘̝̭͖

///

Should the Exo follow her, she'd lead him to an old, Dark Ages era Walker Tank. Canvas tarps fastened to leg joints skirted the spider-like machine - a camp.

Pale smoke rose from the blackened stove pipe poking out of the canvas, the strings of dried herbs, roots and flowers hanging off the gun tube indicated she'd been there a while now.

There were other small indicators as well. A pile of fire wood, tanning leather, a Pike resting on the ground with the engine compartment open, a box of tools on the seat...

@redeyedefiant

"Look at me....", the Ram skulled Risen muttered, giving the other a careful touch to the shoulder. Her Ghost, Revenant, watched curiously, Mardöll was being usually...gentle....

A rabbit skull blinks back.

Well, really, that was just 13's faceplate-- most of the Exos tended to look at least a little skeletal, with their hollow cheeks and sunken camera-eyes. His appearance was someone's stylization choice; between the radar-fin sensors that looked like ears and the digitigrade leg structure, he was practically a rabbit already. Might as well just match the rest of his frame to it.

He listens, at least, his own Ghost cupped firmly in his gloved hands to keep Aloha from darting out of reach again.

"I see you, spooky. The, uh... I don't got such a great track record with Calus," the Arcstrider offers by way of explanation, the targeting reticles of his pupils aimlessly focusing and unfocusing. "Look, I'll be fine. Didn't mean t'worry you?"

If it sounds like a question, it's only because he's not sure if she was checking on him out of concern or what.