#ahkein

[thedriftcr]

❝ you know no one's watchin' you right now, you can admit you like me a tiny bit. no harm in that, brother! ❞

He was aware of how disliked he was in Nordic-1's life, and he enjoyed every second of it. Each reaction fueled the goblin mind that only wanted more reactions, and it was incredibly entertained to listen to the monotone responses and the death wishes. It was satisfying to push the antics for some reason. Of course, he also knew of the consequences of pushing a man too far. At any moment he could meet the end of a gun, but he wasn't worried. He had already determined how he would meet his end, and by who.

❝ juust gotta give your good ol' pal Drifter a chance. you'll see i don't go back on my word, and i bring joy into everyone's lives by simply existin'. ❞

[fiirecracker]

"... Flower, what the hell am I looking at?" It's clearly a Vex. Or, at least, it was. Whatever it is now is still Vex in origin but the fact that it has six heads, fourteen arms and five legs means something isn't quite right. Now, either that old coot is back to messing with things he shouldn't be... Or Flower is bullying the Vex by turning them into nightmare statues that wouldn't look out of place in a Golden Age art exhibition. "No, really. The fuck, kid?" @ahkein

the little psion seems far too pleased with her current art project.

she has a limb lifted in the air as lush enters, and is using the mental powers possessed by her people to tilt and twist it. it has to be just right before she can reattach it. she has to make sure it's perfect. otherwise, what is the point? art can be messy, yes, but it must be purposefully so.

when lush speaks, though, flower pauses her work. the vex arm falls to the ground with an echoing thunk. her lips curve into a smile. she reaches out with her left hand, fingers searching for his.

"i g—ot bored!" says the little warlock, her stutter catching on the hard g. it doesn't seem to phase her, "did you know that solar fire can meld vex com—ponents back together?"

[lepiidopterophobia]

"Oh good," he mutters sardonically, "It's my favourite person."

He doesn't need to look at her, courtesy of the Knucklehead Radar within which his head was cradled. But also, he didn't want to look at her, because there was no-one alive or dead in this timeline he hated more than her.

The Queen of Lies, Subjugant to None, the Scheme-Mother, the God of Cunning and Lies, Queen of All Encrypts, Krill Hag... Savathûn.

"If you're here to wistfully suggest that you may or may not be spinning webs into Lakshmi's mind again, you might want to reconsider; I'm in a foul mood. It wouldn't take much to motivate me to atomise you." —@ahkein

the throne world is alive again, and so, too, is its mother. brilliant Light covers all but the furthest reaches of her home, bathing bone bridges and curved cartilage in its baptismal glow. it chases back the cloying miasma of the swamp, of rhulk, of the witness. it has made her mind and soul truly hers again.

echoes of lapping waves and crackling rot accompany the softly laughter of she-who-is; the first sign of her arrival, and a warning to those who might catch her attention. wings beat to the rhythm of a once-silent heart; the second, and a reminder of her physicality. vanilla and silk waft from behind the exo; the third and final sign of her approach— and also an admonishment.

she has found you, nordic.

"now, now, my love," chides the mother-of-it-all, "you speak so harshly for one who travels my shores."

gentle as a beast can be, savathûn rests the tips of her claws against her chest. she pretends she cannot feel the beat of her heart beneath it all.

"it wounds me, to hear such accusations. have i not given you free reign of my throne world? have i not welcomed you, as honored a guest as any?"

[thvndersnow]

etykraks raises his eyes to look upon her face, tips his head upwards as he does. he has never been a confident eliksni, at least not since he had been risen; always on too unsure a footing, always acquiescing and holding back for other people’s benefit. etykraks is used to folding himself up and away for the appeasement of those around him. but the way liu feng speaks to him has given him a spark of that confidence he knows a titan, a true titan, should embody.

etykraks is a volcano. he is dormant magma, a planet’s most base elements rendered molten, hidden just beneath the surface of a mighty mountain. should he erupt, nothing would be left of his opponents – not even bone. liu feng makes him remember this. his mandibles flex, nostrils flaring as he gives her a nod.

“etykraks,” he responds. when he reaches up to take her hand, there is an air of awkwardness to the motion – not because he shies away, but because it is not a movement he has practiced, one he has seen in action, but never done himself. his three fingers wrap around her smaller hand, and he gives it a squeeze as he shakes it. “i am etykraks. and it is an honor to meet you, liu feng. truly.”

Tears unwanted evaporate the moment they drop from her eyelashes. She won't permit them fall. Grief is her permanent companion but she will dispense of its eternal song not through tears but through tearing, the armour and flesh of those that had desecrated the Burning Shrine, that had slain her family.

But even that must be shelved. There are new flames to kindle, a brother to guide in the ways of the Sunbreakers.

"I have every confidence in you."

I only wish I had the same confidence in myself, it goes unspoken. If Ouros were here... But, she's not. Nor Aodh. Perhaps, had they not stuck so rigidly to the old ways, they... So much swirling in her head that she could barely make sense of. She closes her eyes and breathes deep of the air, the smell of char and steel.

"... I am Liu Feng, the Fourth Empyreal Magistrate of the Sunbreakers Order. Wherever I am, you have a sister. Wherever I am, you have an ally. Wherever I am... You have a home."

Her eyes linger on the knelt form of the Eliksni before her. And then she reaches out to clap him on the shoulder once, twice. Her brave face wavers in this new and strange world, but she wears a smile just for him.

"Tell me your name, brother," She holds out her hand, "And shake my hand while you do it."

[thvndersnow]

@ahkein says ;;

"I have seen your death." The 'prophet' of the Future War Cult. His ability to remark on future events was second-to-none, it seemed, earning him the admiration and scorn of many; the former within his faction, the latter apparently everyone else.

"Unless you wish to be shot to death by your own gun, I suggest you take care in this coming operation. It would be an utter tragedy to lose you. The Hunters cannot afford to lose you, Cayde-6." Not that Nordic-1 even once considered himself one of Cayde-6's hunters, no. No, Nordic-1 didn't even consider himself a Guardian, so whether Cayde-6 took heed of his warning or simply did as he'd done before was not of great concern to him. Nonetheless, never let it be said that he didn't try.

nordic-1. cayde didn't know how to feel about the so-called prophet, even with the other exo's track record -- but he can't deny the chill that goes down his spinal strut at the tone in his voice, at the very words he says. no one's supposed to know anything about any operation. no one except petra and firecracker, at least, and neither of them would snitch. well, unless julia was pressed. the woman cracks easy under the slightest bit of pressure, but cayde was sure no one would have had reason to press her.

"you know, saying stuff like that to a vanguard could get you put on a watchlist," cayde quips without missing a beat, even with the unease that squeezes his fuel pump. "not to mention, uh... i don't exactly leave the city that often.

"...but sure. sure, yeah. i'll watch my six."

[fiirecracker]

"Vesh," He slaps a hand against her shoulder plate, "Don't get in my way."

Oh, he was seething. The Vanguard had lied to them. Oh, it was a routine Hive eradication skirmish, nothing more. It'll take a day, at most. We wouldn't normally ask but we're spread thin. Well, them being spread thin was true, but nothing about this had been routine, had been normal. And to say that he, most zealotous of the cult's followers, was displeased with this development would be the understatement of the century.

That he would have to work for the Vanguard, for whom he oft only spared callous remarks and disbelieving scoffs... It was diabolical. Those snakes on their high horses were up to something.

"We've been in this shithole cave for days and I want, I need, to get back to the City. So sit there like a good girl and watch. You might learn a thing or two."

Thunder rumbles ominously just moments before lightning cracks into his hand, the Arc Staff luminous and humming, his whole body overtaken with the vibrance of Arc Light; he blazed with it, he was aglow in a way so few could claim to match in this day and age.

And when he moved, the storm moved with him. —@ahkein

be kind, vesh. be kind.

it's a mantra she's had to repeat to herself for what feels like hours. days, even, considering how long they'd been down there. although julia prides herself on showing a certain amount of understanding, nordic makes it so difficult sometimes. grumpy and full of nothing but complaints, patronizing and stubborn—

well, every moment around nordic is arduous, to say the least.

taking a deep breath, julia pushes herself to her feet. she will not sit here and do nothing; not while her fellow guardian is in danger. (she also is not a good girl, and even if she was, he does not get to call her that. she is not his pet. she is not a pup.) even if he can handle himself, she will always be his backup.

"the only thing anyone can learn from you is how to be an absolute schmuck," whispers the titan— only to immediately close her eyes and apologize to no one. that isn't kind. that isn't kind.

so she takes a breath. she stomps a foot, pushes the negative out through her the balls of her feet, and lifts her eyes upwards. be better, be good. be better. nordic is upset. pushing him will take you nowhere.

"let me know when you're done, v!" she says instead, and leans against one of the chitin-covered walls. "i'll be waiting, i guess."

[fiirecracker]

It stares at Ikora. Or perhaps it looks through her. Or perhaps it isn't even looking at her at all. It cannot be determined, not with a single eyes, an eye that glows red and hardly moves. Anavió simply stands in place, still, practically dead to the world save for the glowing Radiolaria within its chest and the glowing of its singular red eye. Minutes pass. Hours pass, even. And then, finally, at the death of the seventh hour, a voice comes from the otherwise unmoving Hobgoblin. And though its voice is modulated and lacking in the tonal shifts that make a person's voice so expressive, one cannot help but note the sadness within. < Are we a mistake? > | @ahkein

“now, why would you say such a thing?”

the warlock turns from her outpost in the center of the bazaar. for the first time in hours, she tears her gaze from the empty space where the traveler once hovered. void-tinted eyes find the newest, strangest addition to the lightbearers under her care. they soften. she softens.

“every step in creation comes from something new, anavio. a mutation caused us to crawl from the seas. adaptation gave us legs and lungs and opposable thumbs. each step forward changing in ways unseen before. where we are standing is not where we expected to be, but that does not make it a mistake.”

[thvndersnow]

@ahkein (x) ;;

"You're one of us," She murmurs, eyes locked onto one of the few scant momentos of her kin, of the Sunbreakers that no longer walked the sun-scorched sands of Mercury. The once mighty Sunbreakers' Order stood now as a mere trio of Guardians, two of whom had never seen the Order in its glory, had never witnessed the sheer unadulterated might of the Sunbreakers. Their history, their heritage, had been stolen from them by the Red Legion and now... Now it was up to Liu Feng alone to inspire them. To lead them, if they so wished it. She so hoped they did.

"You're one of us," She repeats, raising from her seated position to fix Etykraks with her eyes aflame, "A Sunbreaker. Though you wield not the hammer, you wield the flame. And as far as I'm concerned, that makes you a Sunbreaker. "And, as a Sunbreaker, that makes you exactly the person I want. Because all Sunbreakers are my kin. Thank you for being here. Thank you." Her voice cracks at the last minute.

he does not think, other than his ghost, a single person has wanted him from the moment of his rez.

that isn't to say etykraks has never known kindness. the vanguard has been kind to him, hospitable, but he sees the weariness in their eyes when his existence causes them consternation. other risen have been kind to him, but most tiptoe around him, unsure how to reconcile his presence with their preconceived notions of their place beneath the great machine. he has known kindness, yes; but only his ghost has ever shown him care.

that is, until now.

the eliksni clicks his mandibles thrice, soaking in liu feng's words. there is a swelling in his chest he cannot quite describe, a feeling not unlike the heat that rises up within him when his temper gets the better of him -- but this feeling warms like a hearth, rather than incinerating like magma. etykraks lowers his head and his eyes in respect, kneels down before the other sunbreaker.

(he is too tall, perhaps, for this to make much of a difference)

"i only hope, then, that i can give that title the honor it deserves."

[thedriftcr]

To continue the charade, he laughs, well aware the statement he made of his crew was true, not even bothering to refute it. For the sake of the charade, this time, he'll let him fall into the false commodity having one right detail brought. It would be all he has to fall back to for now.

❝ oh no, brother, I ain't going to deny that claim, but that's all you have! the oone claim you'll hold over my head to make ya look like the innocent one. that's alright, I ain't bitter about a good job done great, you know ❞.

Bingo. There it was, the sole reason behind the misplaced hatred. The one piece that made so much sense to everything Nordic did against him, and yet it was a pitiful image for a person who could hold the threads of time in his fingers. It was hilarious, and disappointing.

Of everyone else he had antagonized for no reason, the Drifter wasn't expecting this one to give him such an empty answer, yet one that held so much more information than Nordic perhaps realized. He had his doubts, oh he had. Now he would only need to group everything he had learned so far, and ask the right people. Oh, this would be a fun side project, but one he wouldn't focus much of his energy.

❝ so after all this time, you're just mad because you can't pin me to a stereotype and I make your plans look bad on paper? ❞ And he's laughing, one that make him stop for a second and bend his core, hands on his knees, people turning to look at the source of such laughter. Then it stops, his tracking of Nordic continues, not a hint of the laughter remaining

❝ I'm not playing when I say I have more time than you do. I don't waste my seconds hating on someone for being smarter than you are, and for some petty reason. gotta give that one to you, that's the most creative reason to hate me I have ever heard. but no matter how badly you wanna make yourself believe I ain't special in your books, all that energy you're using to hate me for not understanding me?

--I'd say that makes me pretty special in your book, brother. glad I make ya lose sleep thinkin' of me ❞ .

"So it wasn't you, Redrix-3 and Joxer aboard the Tex Mechanica train? I must have been mistaken, mustn't've I? How silly of me. That would have been a terribly embarrassing accusation to make."

He doesn't rise to the Drifter's challenge. Because Nordic had used the SRL figuratively. What did he care if Guardians wished to kill themselves crashing their Sparrows into each other and the walls? It was impossible, however, to get those figureheads to decide on anything. Explained a lot, really, about why Crucible was slowly melting into an unrecognisable shitheap.

Poor Shaxx.

"I have seen much and more of your chicanery, Drifter," He shrugs, "Perhaps you do have everything figured out. Perhaps you really are the only one capable of getting us out of this mess in one piece. Hell, if I were a betting man I'd put my head on you and the Nine having some sort of interactions, even.

"Seems the sorta 'big picture' thing you'd go for, no?"

He doesn't stop, but he doesn't speed up. A hand raised here and there to people that themselves greet him, as few as they are, but he doesn't make an effort to involve himself in the lives of those around him, even those that consider themselves subordinate to him.

"The worst part of it all, Drifter, is that you're right. I don't have a good reason to hate you. You've been nothing if not polite since we've met, after all. How could I possible hold any disdain for you?"

"It's simple, really. You do not fit into my designs. You are an ugly blemish upon plans and schemes that I have wrought for years. You are impossible to predict. And I despise that, I despise you.

"You speak of having time? I have as much time as you, if not more, and yet no matter how I try... I cannot fathom an existence that does not involve you acting to infuriate me at every possible juncture.

"Perhaps I'm just a hateful creature. It seems reasonable to suggest and I wouldn't argue if you did. I am filled with hate. Not just for you, mind. You're not special."

[fiirecracker]

"oh, it's not that bad! it's not the horse." unable to help herself, the girl giggles. her hand tightens its grip, fingers intertwining with his, and she rests her head gently against his arm.

flower knows it is difficult, sometimes, for the elders in the pack to see what she has done. she knows other guardians do not understand. she is a child, yes; she is also a guardian, a psion. she is forever developmentally in limbo. it is something that not many have the patience to understand.

she is lucky. for lush to have been the one to find her; for him to be the one to protect her. for him to be as understanding as he is, despite all he's been through. (she knows she should not know the truth, but her powers are untamed. underdeveloped. it was an accident. she pretends not to know.) so she tries to be good. she tries to love him, just as he tries to love her.

"no! i haven't th—ought of a name yet. i wanted to take a vote!" beaming up at him, she continues with, "it can't w—alk anymore. too top h— h—"

a pause. she clears her throat, straightens her thoughts.

"top heavy! too top heavy."

"That's bloody nightmarish."

Anyone else might be utterly perturbed by the display of twisted metal. Lush had seen, been, worse. A child's curiosity could be a nightmarish thing, but out here, where every moment could be your last, letting a girl whose powers sometimes seemed beyond defining experiment with them was important.

At least, he thought it was. Let her be who she is. He takes her hand and squeezes it, dwarfing her easily within his.

"... Please don't tell me it still walks and... Talks?" He peers at it cautiously, "Did you... Name it?"

[thedriftcr]

There was an exxagerated, incredibly dramatic eye roll at Nordic's reaction and words. What a drama. There wasn't a singular reason this one could point at to justify any and all animosity towards him, when all he had been doing from the very beginning of his appearance was simply help. ...Something Nordic's predictions had not been doing lately, but that was a tale for another time.

Drifter didn't believed they were just situations pulled from the Future War Cult's cracked crystal ball. He stopped when Nordic stopped to listen to him talk, and laughed at the wrong accustations behind his business -partially, of course. Where and how he conducted his business was no one's matter but his and his growing crew. If the Vanguard simply learned to ignore how his pot was stirred, surely some false prophet wouldn't have a leg to stand about it. He didn't have the eye for it, after all.

❝ illicity's a big accusation to be randomly tossing out there, brother! not that original either. can't predict a new one all of a sudden? ❞ Not that he particularly cared to hear how he magically knew how he ran his business since, well, Nordic never visited his business. His lady boss did, and threw the same mud. At least her voice was more pleaseant than whatever came from his speech box.

❝ you do know i can easily pull one way to bring back that racing league, do you? own it, run it, ruin that fun for you since you like me so much and can't wait to buy me a ramen bowl, ban you from ever participatin'. the basics and essentials! ❞ he wouldn't, but. ❝ since i'm a good person, not gonna do that. you might hate my guts but at least i have good reasons to do the same for ya. i got time ❞.

"Any moment spent sans your presence is considered peaceful and quiet."

He stops. He still doesn't turn. He doesn't need to turn. He can see everything, thanks to his helmet. The dials twitch and blink and spin, their scanners sharpening the image of the Drifter, bringing every line of his face to life, the strands of fur on his pauldrons rendered crystal clear. Every loathsome detail of this vile wretch, committed to memory, not because he wants to but because he's spent so damn long having to look at him.

What an awful trial it's been.

"I shan't be buying you a thing. Why not just peddle your illiclty obtained firearms to some unsuspecting moron and buy yourself the drink? In fact, why not treat yourself to a bowl of ramen? And while you sit at that greasy little stall, I will go and do something else."

"Like... I don't know, throwing myself off the wall. Or petitioning the Vanguard to bring back the Sparrow Racing League. Or inviting Oryx over for a tea party. Anything but spending time with you."

The walking resumes. He knows the following will also resume. The Dirfter is nothing if not persistent, consistent... Utterly incorrigible.

[thedriftcr]

❝ ain't got a reason to do either, brother!❞

And he follows, he's got time. There's some things he had to clear, and observation was the only way to do so. He had time to spare his curiosity, the sea would still be there while he poked a bit more. He is good at tracking speed and mirrowing step by step thanks to all the experience gained doing exactly the same he was at the moment.

❝ that's a lot to ask of anyone these days. don't ya know? peace and quiet's a bit out of our reach if you haven't looked around ya for a hot minute, ya know. besides, you haven't been that charitable if you're gonna ask so much of me already! we barely see each other, buy me a drink before pullin' the favors card ❞

"I see... You'll neither drop dead nor go away?"

How very typical of The Drifter. It was, perhaps, foolish of him to hope that the Drifter of this timeline had sense enough to know when his presence wasn't required. Which, if one would ask Nordic-1, would be never. No-one needed the Drifter. No-one needed his motes of Darkness nor his not-quite-Taken nor his illicitly obtained firearms.

No-one needed the conniving little shit that hid in the dark, an opportunistic predator if ever one had ever been known.

"Pity. I was hoping for some silence today. I'd take a little bit of quiet, perhaps... A single moment of peace, even. I suppose that's too much to ask of you."

And so he rises from seated and, having not yet looked at the Drifter even once yet, walks away. There must be somewhere in this god awful City that the Drifter shan't follow him to.