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spaceybot · 7 years ago

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A Glitch from the Void

The Operator somehow falls ill, leaving Ordis to take care of them. Only he isn’t all that well either.

Ever since they had uncovered all of his fragments, he’s been hearing ghosts. The Operator has their own ghosts to deal with.

Contains very minor spoilers from cinematic quests and references to cephalon fragments.

“Please, Operator, you must rest now. For me.”

They weren’t going to argue with him on that, and how could they when he pleads like that? Another wave of pain crashes against the inside of their skull, coursing through the hollows of their eyes. They groan, draping an arm across their dull eyes in an attempt to block out the bone piercing light.

Transference did nothing to ease the pain. They had thought that being in their more familiar body albeit a borrowed one, they would cease to feel the symptoms of their sickness. But even the warframe could not block out the throbbing headache or the overwhelming urge to simply collapse.

Heeding Ordis’ advice, the Operator steps out into their physical form before crawling into the makeshift bed the two had prepared in their personal quarters.

The wyrm sentinel that Ordis had tethered to his control perks up at the sudden act, chirping its concern, hovering just a bit higher. He helplessly watches as they attempt to get comfortable. Ordis did not even know that the Operator could even fall ill. Surely the Zariman incident could have altered their immune system, as it had altered nearly everything else about the child. But all it had done was leave it weakened and ruined, or so it seemed. And spending all of those years in a dream did nothing for their health either.

And yet it feels wrong. Ordis had witnessed their miraculous recovery, their renewed ability to walk, to run even, around the ship on their own two feet after the incident on the Kuva Fortress. It had terrified the living daylights out of him. If only such a miracle could salvage his poor Operator’s health now. Why didn’t it?

Ordis floats around the Operator’s bed, which consisted only of an Ostron carpet laid on the floor in front of the observation window, a pillow, and one of the larger, thicker syndanas they had gotten a while back. Ordis should have been proactive. He should have bothered the Operator to build a real bed for such occasions. They must be terribly uncomfortable. The way they attempt to create a cocoon out of the substitute syandana blanket pains him.

“Ordis?”

“Yes, star child?”

“Could you get the other syandana for me?” They ask, their voice a mere whisper. “It’s freezing.”

Impossible. They were clearly overheating, burning even. However, he did not miss the way their shoulders oscillated as they spoke, overcome by shivers.

“Of course.” He replies. His proxy is already flying away to dutifully fulfil his Operator’s request.

As soon as he opens the door, it comes padding in, scampering to find its owner.

“Oh, NO. Absolutely not, you－filthy, disgusting－little kubrow. Shoo! Let them be.” Can’t it see that its master is sick? The wyrm comes to the Kubrow’s eye level, pushing against its horned nose. Ordis wilts a little. That adorably ugly, and endearing nose, and those glistening beady eyes. It has both of them wrapped around its giant paws. “Oh. Oh. Operator, it’s giving me those eyes again. What should I do?”

Though they give no verbal response, they seem to come to life at the sound of their giant kubrow padding around the room. They call to it, attempting some kind of pathetic whistle. It comes out as mostly spit and air. It only takes the kubrow a few bounding leaps to make its way over to its master. It almost brings Ordis to a state of...melancholy? Anger? Watching that loyal, murderous dog heed every beck and call. He does not know why.

The Operator makes a muffled noise, interrupting his thoughts. A laugh. The rustle of the syandana’s cloth softly fills the room as the giant beast nudges at its owner, laying pitifully on the ground and wrapped in a large syandana. Eventually, it settles down, curling around the Operator. The Operator easily snuggles into it, desperate for warmth. They are still. Quiet. The room falls into a listless silence. They seem to have forgotten their request for a second syandana blanket, with the heat radiating from their companion sufficing. Ordis watches as one of their arms poke out of the cocoon to circle around the great beast.

The sweat of their palm coats the animal’s thick, heavy fur, imparting an unpleasant scent. Both will need to be washed down, Ordis thinks to himself. He must sanitize the ship soon, to prevent further instances of this sickness.

“Ordis will return when your Tenno friends have delivered your medication.”

It wasn’t medication really. The other Tenno did not seem to know where to even find conventional remedies. Instead they turned to the Ostrons, in search of common remedies, elixirs, brews, anything. The Operator’s illness struck them as strange, just as it had perplexed Ordis himself. Their warframes had always provided a barrier between bacteria and viruses from reaching the physical host. Even that odd pink cyst they had gotten one time did no real harm to neither the frame nor the Operator. Perhaps the Operator had been spending too much time outside of transference.

“Hey, Ordis?” They mumble, only half awake now. Ordis waits, just as he’s always done.

“Thank you. For everything.” They say. There is pity, love, entangling the data stream that courses through his mind as he processes their words. The cephalon’s voice is present throughout the whole orbiter, the volume of it reduced in an effort to keep them comfortable. The void itself could not contain the gentleness, the warmth in his voice.

“Do not thank me. I am your Cephalon--”

－your loving dog－－your doctor－－your wet nurse－

A quick burst of static. There are echoes in his mind, shimmering fragments revealing themselves from the pit that he had thrown them into long ago. Stop. Stop now. A sudden surge of energy courses through his being. It takes him an immense amount of will power to suppress the phantom thoughts, and even more to keep himself from speaking them aloud.

Ever since his Operator had begun unearthing more and more of the memories he had strewn about, he started suffering from these horrid glitches. Everyday the Operator found more. Everyday he began to crack more. Neither of them could bring themselves to speak of it.

Ordis recovers within nanoseconds.

“I am your Cephalon.” He repeats, firmer. “I gladly serve you, Operator. Now go to bed.”

The Operator scoffs with feigned indignation. Just that playful act alone must have taken much of their energy because they fall silent quickly after, their expression returning to one of discomfort and pain. Ordis knows whenever a new ache befalls them when their eyebrows knit together, or when they pull their kubrow in a little closer. He is helpless, only able to watch the poor thing suffer until medicine arrives.

“Sleep well.” He murmurs, so quietly that it could be any other sound. He dims the lights until it is only starlight that filters into the room. The Operator has already succumbed to its effect.

---

There is no respite, even in dreams. It brings back memories.

They have felt this before, long ago. They’re sure of it. Even before the Zariman accident, they can feel the faint memory brushing against their mind. Their mother pressing a kiss to their cheek, brushing away sticky strands of hair. Their father’s palm against their glistening forehead, feeling the heat as it radiates from them. They have only ever gotten sick once. But even then it was different.

They are floating in a vast expanse of nothingness, limbs suspended in weightlessness. Are they...outside of the ship? No. It’s impossible.

The headache chips away at their skull as if something is trying to break free of its confines. There is too much inside of their mind. It hurts. Their body pulsates and aches and burns, so full of sickness on the outside. And yet inside, they are hollow, empty...infinite. They are the space that surrounds the Lishet and the void that swallows the planets and the stars.

The Operator brings a hand up to brush the corner of the lips. Something wet had dribbled down their chin. When they draw it back to examine, all they see is a black liquid coating their hand. It feels too real.

They blink hard, in an attempt to wake up from the dream. Someone is holding them back, keeping them trapped within this purgatory.

And then they realize where they are. It’s the only place they could be.

They need to leave, to wake up. Now. They open their eyes only to see a phantom staring back. It’s them. A mirror image. Dark, peering eyes tearing through the depths of their twin soul. The Void grins at them, black seeping from their mouth.

“Remember me, kiddo?”

---

It took three hours for the others to arrive with the medicine, and not a moment too soon.

Ordis, or rather his wrym thrall, slips into the room with its tail wrapped around a vial. He brightens the room ever so slightly, descending until he is by his Operator’s side. They breath in heaving and hoarse breaths. The weakness penetrates their bones. Ordis falters. The sight of－that ugly child, their face burned, starved-sick like a stray－ forces something to the forefront of his mind. He forgets his original purpose, floating numbly. They look just like that child he had seen in his past life. Weak. Helpless.

Get yourself together, Ordis. He wills himself to obey.

And then his Operator awakens, startled by a dream. A nightmare, so it seems. They look around, until their wide eyes finally focus on him. And that’s all that it takes.

The lights of the Orbiter shut off.

The wyrm gently lands onto the floor, next to the slumbering kubrow, all of its power siphoning away with a dying whir. The small vial gives off a soft clink as it makes contact with the ground. Ordis’ connection with the sentinel severs itself. There is only silence.

“O-Ordis!” The Operator shouts, rousing the kubrow from its slumber.

And then the ship’s interior lights flicker. A new, but familiar voice answers.

“Operator.” He says, testing the word with a curious lilt.

Their blood runs cold and still. Not out of fear, but disbelief. Was it an illusion?

It is Ordis’ voice, only it is distinctly organic and far deeper, almost as if the source of it was merely inches away from them. The Operator knows at once who he is. After all, they had found everything that he had tried to hide. All of those fragments that Ordis tried to render nonexistent. They had glued the pieces together until the truth rose from the fracture lines. He was the voice from those transmissions.

Ordan Karris

Karris cannot breathe. Yet he does not need to. He sees through the ship’s eyes, sees the Operator. It nearly brings laughter out of his synthetic throat. Both of them, the former pit dogs of the Orokin, the immortals. How broken they both are. But it matters little now. Now, they fight for each other. They protect each other. The Tenno and the Beast of Bones.

Before the child knows it, the lights rise one more, bathing the room in brightness and clarity. The wyrm picks itself up off the ground, gingerly laying the dropped vial onto their lap. The Operator, despite the delirium of their disease cannot bring themselves to be afraid of someone so familiar. Their fingers curl around the vial’s neck.

Another quick burst of static. Has he gone? They swallow the heaviness and sickness caught in their mouth, the need to keep Ordis stable overriding their weakness and the images of The Man in the Wall.

“Ordis.” The Operator pauses, coughing to clear the phlegm from their sore throat. “Ordan. We have a lot to discuss. I-I’m so sorry, I should have talked to you sooner－”

But the response is a synthesis of two voices, melding into one. They can hear it. Ordis’ warmth reigning predominant, returning to its fullest potential as it rings through the ship. And a whisper of the beast. Beneath it all the faintest hint of Karris remains:

“No. Discussion can wait until you are well. I urge you to rest. Please.” He murmurs. “For me.”

The Operator hesitates for a brief moment. They open their mouth to speak but no words come out. Ordis, or Ordan, dims the lights once more, as if it were his attempt to pacify them back to sleep. Their attempt.

Is he Ordis or Ordan? Neither or both? He doesn’t quite know. He doesn’t care. The Operator has awoken from the dream that Margulis had induced long ago. And now he has awoken from his. He’s never felt so sure, so aware. The bizarre state of consciousness that he’s in borders on painful. Yet it feels right.

“I will.” They reply. “But after this, no more hiding, no more avoidance. We’ll come clean together. I promise.”

The Operator downs the bottle’s contents in one long, drawn out sip. It is too dark for either one to notice the thick, black residue left on the vial’s opening, just where their lips had been.

#warframe #warframe ordis #cephalon ordis #ordan karris #warframe fanfic #warframe operator #what is the title even #probably won't make sense unless you've heard the cephalon fragments #did you know this started out as pure fluff

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heartslogos · 6 years ago

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seas who could sing so deep and strong [153]

Kore’s struggling in her Saryn after being so long in her Nidus, Judge can tell. He met her as a Saryn, he knew her as a Saryn. And if Judge is being perfectly frank, he fell in love with her as a Saryn.

And then she grew into something different than Saryn and he loves that, too.

But Kore’s struggling as Saryn right now, always expecting a blossom of flesh and teeth at the stop of her heel and coming up empty. It doesn’t help that she’s currently working with one of her least favorite type of melee weapons.

“Just use a sword,” Judge says as Kore grunts, hefting the heavy mace up from a ground slam as she slowly turns, Saryn’s thin waist twisting with the strain of moving as she brings the mace around to slam into a Grineer scorpion. He hears the crunch of bone and the sputtering groan as the Scorpion collapses. Well. Falls apart, actually, without a torso to hold her body upright.

“No,” Kore grinds out. And then she stomps down hard, clicks her tongue when nothing happens and sends a wave of dangerous toxic energy over the maul, coating it in pollen-gold energy that hisses faintly whenever it comes in contact with anything.

Her MOA beeps, hopping from foot to foot, head swiveling as it fires off a shot at something far away. Judge distantly hears a thud of a body falling, but he doesn’t look to see what it was. Kore somehow managed to stick with her MOA long enough to get the thing ready for gilding and now it seems to be doing much better at…not dying. It still does amazingly, profoundly, humiliatingly foolish things like stand in acid pools and run into bombards. But now it’s much faster at running after her and taking at least one more hit before falling down into a crumpled mess of leg and circuitry.

“You’re miserable,” Judge points out. “You and your warframes have always relied on speed.”

“Untrue,” Kore says. “There’s Rhino.”

“Rhino?” Judge says, “Rhino who you never use? Rhino who you keep around because you like to look at him?”

“Slander. I would never do something so impractical.”

“Right.” Judge does not say the real reason she keeps Rhino around, which is that she likes it when the warframe holds her because she feels safe. Judge doesn’t judge her for that, because anyone would feel safe being held by a Rhino warframe. He’s a big warframe and you just feel…surrounded? It’s a good kind of feeling. Even with his claustrophobia he can appreciate it a little.

“You don’t even use War,” Judge says. “Because it’s too slow for you. You did the bare minimum to attune to it and then you put it in storage. I don’t think you’ve even used a catalyst on it.”

“War was never going to be a weapon of my choice,” Kore points out, “It’s like…an aesthetic piece. It’s a point that I’m proving to that home invader every time he sees me. I have your sword, you aren’t special.”

Kore grunts as she brings down her mace straight onto a Grineer lancer, crushing his scull instantly. And also possibly ramming it straight down into his ribs. Judge grimaces.

“On your left,” Judge says. “Hellion about to get away.”

“What? No.” Kore turns, and in a move that would make the Empress proud, denies the Hellion its’ escape. She turns, mace already half-way drawn up and slams the mace straight into the aerial born Grineer’s legs. The Hellion screams out as its legs are crushed and its jetpack sputters, dented from being clipped by Kore’s attack, and goes crashing down into the guts of the Grineer shipyard. Kore lets out a sigh. “See. I’m getting it.”

“Right,” Judge says, watching her from his perch on the railing above her. She’d insisted that he stay behind and just watch her back.

Saryn’s elegant arm extends outwards, fingers outstretched. Judge sighs. Kore also sighs, but it’s much more frustrated than anything else.

“You wanted larva, didn’t you?”

“Shut it,” Saryn’s fist closes as she pulls out her Bronco and starts shooting instead. “I used to be able to do this.”

“You didn’t have to forma your Saryn.”

“I did if I wanted her to be able to keep up,” Kore says. “My fighting style has changed. I’ve changed. I need her to come with me on this journey of change. I’m not letting my Saryn go. Not ever. I refuse to let her become obsolete, even if my preference has changed towards another warframe.”

“Unusually sentimental of you.”

Kore waves a hand in the MOA’s direction. “Given my history, is it so hard for you to believe I don’t leave things I’m fond of behind?”

Empress wakes up, mind unclear and foggy for a moment as she tries to understand what woke her. It isn’t her Cephalon, because her ship’s lights are still dimmed. She doesn’t feel any pain and she was not dreaming of anything that she can recall being particularly bothersome. She hasn’t fallen off her bed, she isn’t cold or overly hot, and she feels quite comfortable as she is.

She stretches her legs out a little and she doesn’t feel Jailer, or see him, for that matter, so it isn’t him, either.

She turns to look over her shoulder. Ah, there we are.

She turns over completely, reaching out and touching Alpha’s cheek. The tenno is stiff as a board, eyes closed but she knows he’s awake. His mismatched eyes open at her touch, and the light shining out of them is bright enough it stings a little. He lets out one slow breath through his nose, and everything is illuminated by the uncontrolled power seeping through his eyes. Empress isn’t sure how his eyelids blocked it out, honestly.

“What was it?” Empress asks, quietly. There are so many ghosts between them. She could have another thousand years and never be able to know which particular one is hurting him at any given moment. All of them, she assumes sometimes. New ones she hasn’t even met, even.

He doesn’t answer her, just takes in another one of those slow controlled breaths before closing his eyes again. There’s just the faintest, faintest light coming through. Empress closes her eyes and imagines that the spots she sees on the back of her eyelids are those lights. They aren’t. But it’s close.

“Was it your mother?” Empress whispers. Alpha’s next breath is a little sharper, but he doesn’t move underneath her hand. “Your father?”

He doesn’t pull away, but he puts a warning hand on her chest, long fingertips pushing the faintest bit of power into her. It makes her skin feel heavy, her bones seem like lead for a brief moment.

Stop.

Empress hums softly under her breath as Alpha works on breathing and not losing control of his powers and knocking her ship into complete and permanent malfunction.

Finally, Alpha lets out the faintest sound and she opens her eyes again and his eyes are just the normal brightness of any other tenno. Not stars or suns or flares, just Alpha again.

His hand, still on her chest, slowly slides over her shoulder until his palm is on the back of her head as he draws her close to him. He presses an apology to the crown of her forehead, right between the golden horns grafted onto her by the Orokin.

“Alone again,” He whispers. “Voices of the void and silence.”

She breathes in deep, taking him in as she feels his throat moving with his quiet words.

“Do I not breathe against your skin? Does my hair not slide through your fingers?” She replies. “Let it only be my voice and my silence. Shall I weave you a story for the night?”

Alpha shakes his head no.

“Then I shall weave myself a story for the night,” Empress decides. Alpha’s tired laugh is just a shaking of his chest as she thinks up something that will lull him into sleep. “Well now. I should think that I would like to hear a story about a kubrow tonight.”

“Oh?”

“No, hush, you sleep. This one is for me, not you, since you do not want a story,” Empress muses. “I am going to tell myself a story about a kubrow. A kubrow that goes on a magnificent journey across Earth and meets several friends and learns wonderful life lessons and perhaps defeats a mean kubrodon from Venus.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

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lordrethandus · 6 years ago

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The Flame That Guides Us Home Pt 5

“J’a-l? R-pond! J-zel com- in!” What was left of her radio flickered and squeaked amongst the warped steel and melted rock. Slowly J’azel opened her eyes to see the fire-swept plains of Argus, cradling the remains of the Krakenax amongst the dirt and ashes. It still felt like her warframe was spiraling toward the ground, but she knew better; now that her consciousness was returning, she had to move fast if she wanted to reach her sister before the Horde did. “-azel?! Ans- -e!”

She reached up to dust off the damaged receiver, “J’azel… aauuugh… reporting in…”

“Than- the -ight!” Vice Admiral Taarth’s voice was clearer now, but it would be some time before she could fix her receiver. “I’m sen-ing a -escue squad! H-ld tight!”

J’azel tried to open her cockpit, but it was melted shut; she then pressed her plated hooves against the warped metal and began kicking with all of her strength. “Negative…! I have to face Miraan!” One, two, three, four kicks later, and the hatch burst open and allowed her to crawl out of her destroyed mech. She looked up to see debris still raining down from the explosion she caused. The tiny green embers and scorched ashes raining down around her brought distant memories of the first day of winter back when she was still a child. The Lightforged Eredar reached into the side hatch of her mech and retrieved her cherished greatsword, some climbing gear, and the hand-drawn picture of her family; with her warframe in pieces, she would have to walk the rest of the way. “Sending my coordinates. You can pick up my mech for repairs, but some of my team may have survived. They take priority.” It sent chills up her spine to lie so easily; she saw what happened firsthand, she knew damn well none of them survived. Not against that kind of firepower… or at that height.

Lord-Commander Sunsheath led the charge down the main hallway of the Krakenax, with his brothers and sisters in arms following closely behind. He could hear frenzied shouting and screaming in the lower levels beneath him, but he couldn't afford an investigation; there wasn't enough time to stage a rescue for those unfortunate enough to be captives of the Burning Legion, nor could he cut a swathe through their demonic ranks to quench his righteous bloodlust.

If the billions of people slaughtered across countless burned worlds could ever find any rest, if the Burning Legion could be put down for good, then Miraan the Benevolent needed to die.

Screams and shouting pierced the thick felsteel door before them; demonic voices filled with maddening rage and hatred. “There isn't anyone ahead of us… who could they be fighting?” Gonthar raised his meaty fist and halted their advance. “Konthus, help me with this door.” Without a word the Warbrave obeyed, shuffling through the ranks to offer his fellow tauren assistance.

The main deck of the Krakenax was in absolute chaos. Gonthar half-expected the Illidari giving these demons more than they could handle, but that couldn't be further from the truth; felguards were slaughtering mo'arg, who were pounding shivarra into paste, who in turn were flaying felguards. The Burning Legion had turned against each other, their formations shattered and reduced to a tribalistic need to survive. A fel lord stood in the center, trying his best to restore order the only way he knew how; with additional violence.

The Oathguard looked on in awe and silence until the Sin'dorei paladin Varkol Suncloak said, “This is the single greatest thing I've ever seen.”

“Well?! What are we waiting for?!” Kaarst Shattercraft barked, pacing back and forth with eager anticipation. “Let's get in there! Lok'tar o-!”

“We are not here for them!” Gonthar grabbed the orc by the shoulder and pulled him back. Before anyone else got the bright idea of giving away their position, he turned to address Eristel. “We need a portal to take us past this carnage and as close to the command room as possible. Can you do it?”

“Of course, but…” Eristel stroked his chin before looking up at the second floor. “Portal magic is slow and loud. I can’t guarantee I can get it active before our position is compromised.”

Gonthar clenched his teeth before glancing over to Kaarst. “Shattercraft, Grimwald, Rahoa, and Breezehome. Draw attention away from our position, but don’t get reckless; we won’t be able to stage a rescue if you’re overwhelmed.” The four chosen snuck away without a single word, and Gonthar was already regretting this decision. He may have just sent four good soldiers to their deaths.

Eristel was right about the noise. A white ball of curious light sparked between his palms, letting out a whistling hiss not quite unlike a teapot. It grew louder as the ball did larger, until it was too big and too obnoxiously loud for the Pyromancer to hold between his fingers. Gonthar turned to see the chaos ahead, with some of them already felled by arrows. Kaarst leapt through the air into the crowd of demons, with Rahoa and Audrey at his heels. Up on the scaffolding he saw the other end of the portal appear, white hot and swelling. “There!” Eristel said at last. “It’s ready!”

“Everyone through the portal! Now!” Gonthar ushered the Oathguard in and waited until every single soldier under his command went through before he rejoined them; the Sunwalker did another quick check on the four engaging the Burning Legion, but from this height they were now nowhere to be found.

“Contact! Twelve o'clock!” Someone shouted.

Gonthar snapped his attention forward to see an imp swarm pour out of a nearby ventilation shaft. “Shields forward!” Several warriors and paladins rushed ahead and raised their bulwarks, just as the imps began their barrage. The door on their right swung open, revealing a sizable force of felguards.

“Right flank! Right flank!” Shouted another, giving the healers and magi just enough time to turn and defend themselves from the surprise attack. Gonthar threw himself at them, knocking a demon down while catching another beneath a hoof. Stinging agony wracked his body from a fallen demon burying a knife in his leg, but the Sunwalker raised his foot in retaliation and crushed the demon's head like a melon. He swung his sword in a wide arch immediately after, catching another felguard in the chin. Arrows and spells whizzed over his head from behind, felling a half dozen more of them.

“Aaahhh! No! Nooooo!” A priestess was pulled to the ground by two felhounds, screaming, kicking, and begging. Eristel turned and engulfed them in flames a split second later, but it was a split second too late; their razor sharp fangs had easily torn her apart. A small group of felguards ducked past Gonthar and focused on anyone wearing cloth or leather. The warriors and paladins protecting their allies from the unrelenting bombardment of imp fireballs began to falter, many of whom turned to face the felguard threat, only to take felfire to their backs. In an instant the Oathguard’s formations were undone.

Gonthar’s commands were drowned out by the chaos unfolding around him. All he could see was the flash of steel against steel, all he could hear were the frenzied screams of friend and foe alike; his body screamed for rest and he tasted blood and bile in his mouth, but he couldn’t give up. They were so close to defeating the Legion once and for all. So close… yet with this ambush, this just might be as far as they go. Gonthar didn’t see Sahe amidst the slaughter, but she was all he could think about now. Even as he struck down demon after demon, even as his blood boiled with his Grimtotem fury, and even as he shrugged off injuries that would have proved fatal for lesser tauren, he was focused on finding the Druidess and getting her to safety.

Gonthar’s ears twitched at the familiar bellow of Kaarst Shattercraft over the deafening chorus of battle. He glanced up just in time to see Kaarst, Rahoa, and Audrey Breezehome leap into the fray with Grimwald loosening a hail of arrows behind them. Seeing the crazed orc spin his axe around in a group of felguards with such reckless abandon emboldened those still standing with a surge of hope and renewed resolve. Gonthar turned around and swung his claymore so hard he cleaved a demon clean in half through the chest, spraying blood and entrails down the hallway. His hoof came down and turned another demon’s knee into splinters. The next swing of his sword caught yet another felguard by its dominant arm, leaving it easy pickings for the others. Gonthar didn’t know how long this struggle lasted, but by the time his blood trance was done, hardly anyone, demon or otherwise, was left standing. His body crumbled the moment the threat was over, with only the sound of his labored breathing and the groans of the dying remaining.

“Oathguard…!” He managed to shout out, but his weak voice didn't carry far. “Sound off…!” Only whimpers of agony answered him. Gonthar rubbed the sticky slime off his face, only to realize it came from his own open wounds above his head, from a gash that split his mane in half. “Oathguard! ...sound! Off!” Gonthar repeated, as loud as his burning lungs would allow.

One by one they called out their names: Varkol, Grimwald, Nairi, Rahoa, Audrey, Sahe, Clonce, Kaarst, Eristel. Their forces were five and fifty when they stepped aboard this accursed ship… now barely ten of them were left. Gonthar looked around to see so many of his brothers and sisters in arms either dead or well on their way, and with his meager band of exhausted companions left, only one choice was left before him.

“We’re retreating.” He commanded, as their only two remaining healers began trying to stabilize as many as they could. “This mission is a failure.”

Varkol exchanged glances with the few survivors before speaking. “Commander, with all due respect… we’ve come this far. We should see it through!”

“He’s right!” Nairi added. “If we turn tail and run now, all of those people died for noth-”

“This ambush severed the Oathguard at the knees! If we attack her with just us ten we WILL die!” Gonthar then pointed down toward those unable to stand. “We can’t abandon them either! I’m calling it! We are-!” A heavy slam against a nearby door nearly caused Gonthar to jump out of his bloodsoaked skin. The survivors whirled to face the newfound threat with fear and anger written on their faces. After three more slams the felsteel door collapsed in a cloud of golden cinders and smoke. Out came that draenei from the Army of the Light. “What…?”

“Ma’xerei kerekt?!” J’azel called out, stopping just a few steps forward once she saw their dying allies. Immediately the golden runes scrawled across her body lit up like the morning sun, forcing Gonthar and the others to shield their eyes. When the light faded, most of those on the floor were wreathed in the Light, and no longer moaning in agony. Even Gonthar’s wounds seemed to vanish.

“Th-thank you, Draenei…!” He didn’t know if she could understand him, and he didn’t care; the power of a healthy Lightforged Draenei was just the thing he needed to bring most of these people back to their homes and families, and that was not a gesture he would soon forget.

“Eredar.” She sharply corrected, drawing her sword from its sheath. She then pointed down the hallway to what had to be the command deck. “Miraan. Tu shelri’vaakt?”

“We can’t let her face her sister alone, Commander.” Eristel warned. “But it’s your call.” Gonthar looked down at Sahe, who cautiously nodded after a moment of silence.

“So be it.” He clenched his teeth before turning back to his team. “Varkol, Audrey, and Eristel. Go with the drae- the eredar. Nairi, Rahoa, Grimwald, Shattercraft, cover us while Clonce creates a portal back to Felfathom.” Nairi opened her mouth to object, but the Lord-Commander had already turned his back to help Sahe gather the living and the dead, and her team was already taking positions on the other side of the hallway to protect them.

The three elves and the eredar hurried down the narrowing corridor in silence until they came across two giant slabs of felsteel pressed against each other. “What now?!” Audrey whined. “It’ll take a small army and the largest siege engines the Horde has to open this!”

“Grelsor akampst.” J’azel spoke, pointing at Eristel and then at Varkol. “Grelsor akampst! Vi… vikaresk!” Eristel and Varkol exchanged weary looks before the eredar loudly groaned and grabbed them both by the wrists to pull closer to the door. “Vikaresk! Vikaresk vallesh!”

“I think she wants us to use fire, Vark.” Eristel suggested. When he summoned a ball of flame in his open palm, her eyes lit up. Varkol raised his free hand and did the same.

“Vallesh!” She repeated, slowly raising her hands up in a strange gesture. “Vallesh oziak thuum!”

When the flames grew almost too large for the pyromancer and the crusader to sustain, black runes scrawled across the door began to glow and hiss in response. Eristel scooped up the meager flame in Varkol’s hands and added it to his own, and with a hearty thrust of his arms, sent the pryoblast toward the largest rune on the door. In an instant the entire area lit up from the overloaded runes. They covered their faces and braced themselves for the explosion, but it never came. The doors swung open with a heavy groan.

“Eru’dei aca!” J’azel cheered, before raising her sword high over her head. “Chronokai kristor!”

#The War on Argus

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chamberofnectar · 7 years ago

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Choke

SUMMARY

They’re coming for you, the neural sentry whispers in the back of his mind as he’s forced to walk on wounded limbs..

Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply

[ Link ] or continue reading below.

GET UP.

The neural sentry surges through his fragmented thoughts, mangling any lingering sense as gifted energy pulses through stained skin and bruised muscles. A breath shakes as life pours refound in nerves and wires, dulling the blistering agony that keeps him teetering at unconsciousness. INTRUDERS – a plea pulling him upwards on trembling legs and tattered feet. Inky black drips as heated gas breathes through a copper-made mouth and shining cyan flesh hanging open at his right side. They’re torn; black muscle retracting with every heave as the prime finds his feet beneath him, scattering congealed blood in every step.

They are coming for you.

The sentry again, pumping energy into his weakened body, unable to find a moments rest or given enough time to recover. He’s lost count of how long he’s been here; an eternity is all he can figure as the presence pushes him to step on a pained foot. His ankle was shredded, barely healed, as a growl rumbles from his barely conscious chest – more towards the sentry than the corpses littering the hallways he’s forced through.

Golden claws click against the once pristine tile, a mirror of something he must’ve once been.

It’s a thought that doesn’t remain for long in the excalibur prime, yanked down another long walk as pieces of the intruders are dripped through the omnipresent sentry as whispers from the stark arboriforms.

They have a creature. Whispers with taut lines at the ends of poles.

He can barely fragment a picture together of what the intruders look like, the neural sentry not content with independent thought as it draws him closer to where the intruders wander. A hunched creature, lines hanging from its underside. The prime can barely form a string of thoughts as the sentry screams inside his head, yearning for the directed slaughter of those that dared to walk in its lustrous Orokin glory. And yet, it has no qualms with the spill of red and black, inciting blind violence from its possession – the shell of a live once lived and invaded for its own means.

Another sneer splits the prime’s twisted maw as he steps wrong, pain surging weak in his numbed system as he presses on into the open arboriform lined halls of the Orokin tower. Bloodied hands claw against the walkway railing, body trembling as he looks for whomever the neural sentry is screaming about. It’s hard for him to focus, gaze dazed as pushes pressed into his damaged heel. He hisses, vents steaming against his taut arm.

There – the sentry screams, forcing his exhausted head to turn.

He can barely see the blue suits of crewmen, grey helmets still as their bodies turn.

They must’ve seen him backlit by the light of brilliant arboriforms, brilliant energy surges through his hands as he draws a blade from burning palms, hissing as he stares down at them.

Jump – the neural sentry commands.

Despite his blistering limp, the surging pain through the numerous unhealed injuries, the fracture in his ankle, he leaps. The intruders curse as he sails towards them, cleaving one with the brilliant energy blade as others start shooting.

The neural sentry pumps him full of energy as his shields take the brunt of the intruder retaliation, leaving him able to move from one target to the next, searing the grey helmets from matching containment suits. Eyes hang wide in lax faces, screams scrambled as all the prime can see is blurs unfocused. Once crimson over takes calm blues, there is still targets, a staple in his binding existence as blood is shed. This is the only time he is free of the pleading whines, garbled in the fray of the slaughter as the last falls to their knees – their helmet yanked off.

A plea for their life?

The sentry won’t allow it.

They are here for you.

The entry whimpers as he severs head from neck.

And for a moment.

He goes still.

Confused.

He barely makes out the line that flashes over his vision, a sudden yank that drives him and forces his exalted blade back into clutching hands. There’s shouting around him, another language as he claws at the wire pulling him onto his back.

Cruel screeches scream as dirty hands press against the soft skin of his neck, barely catching hold of the thin line – but whatever is pulling him is strong, unyielding as bloodied claws scratch at the floor for something to hold – anything to stop the pulling at his throat. He feels the wire tighten, unable to pluck his fingers around it as something chirps and gargles behind him. The prime tries to reach back and only finds wire, pulling at it to loosen the hold around his throat.

He finds his right is being tugged taut, tired muscles pulling as another rumbling bubbles up his compressing throat. The wire presses the plates at the front of his neck inwards, putting pressure inside as he struggles against the outside. Tightness grips around his left as well as his right, yanking outwards and following as he struggles against the capture line. He’s drawn further on his spine plates as he struggles, fighting the thin cord restraints as the intruders struggle to keep him restrained. Around his throat it bites further as he struggles, drawn against bullet resilient skin as the material begins to wedge itself between the gilded plates of his throat. It hurts, spreading the plates as the line bites into his skin.

He can bear the muted scream of the neural sentry, trying to pump as much energy into him as possible but he can’t hold anymore, gargling as it starts to make him ill. Blood black oozes as he releases a guttural scream, crooked and shuttering as the lines bite against his skin.

Escape. Escape. Escape. Escape. Escape. Escape.

Over and over the word hammers into his senses, even as he struggles and yanks. The intruders are near muted, their garbles in a foreign language unheard as the prime can only feel the biting pain and the neural sentry screaming through his thoughts – his nerves – his body drawn writhing backwards. The only thought that makes it through the scrambling sensory overload is his own thought, exhausted by the constant thrall-state that makes his only existence.

I’m trying!

It bites into him like a knife, as he tastes inky copper and garbles as the wire squeezes his air passage tight, biting into his skin and choking on ichor black. He can feel himself be pulled not back, but up, throat made exposed as the prime claws against the digging in his throat. The sentry is screaming, repeating the same phrase, surging his overloaded body with excess energy in hopes it would solve him being strung up by his neck.

Behind him the moa coos to the intruders, beckoning as the prime fights the restraints. His claws splay against the ground, kicking and scratching at anything in range as he pulls his arms defensively close, hoping to strike something, mangle something to get at least one wrist free as he’s pulled further against the tall mechanation. As his legs begin to dangle, the line biting through the skin of his throat and esophagus, he kicks harder; hearing the machine whirr and whine as he feels a line at his wrist go lax.

They’re scrambling to restrain him.

But he, is much faster.

Gilded claws scratch at the moa’s undercarriage, hearing it scream as he tries to keep itself still for the tender intruders scrambling to restrain his arms. The other also goes lax, from the panic, a spark of his mind assumes as his claws grind against metal, pulling at the foundation of the line behind his choking throat as all he inhales is his own blood.

The void tower’s neural sentry howls in his mind.

There’s no time to think.

No time to listen.

As the wire around his throat tightens, making him choke and gag, bloody hands grasping from neck to grinding machine. Around him is the muffled shouting, his own bubbling screeching echoes. Static fuzzes inside his head, energy nullified as he’s made frantic, clawing at his own skin and the wire cutting deep into his throat.

It’s wrapping firmly around the solid plates at the back of his neck, the encasement of his spine.

If he doesn’t get free now, he never will be again.

He’ll be dead.

Gilded claws scratch at the moa’s housing, finding where the machine is tender, tearing at it and firm metal as the machine recoils under his reckless, directionless assault. It screeches and sways with him in tow, legs kicking back trying to find the ground once beneath his feet. Then his claws sink into something soft, digging.

And it screams.

His body dangles as the giant machine thrashes, swaying unbalanced with stomping feet as it tries to shake the fight out of its captive. The excalibur keeps kicking, claws digging deep into the small hand he pulls downwards through the reckless motions. And eventually, as the moa shakes, one kick makes contact with one of its slim legs, and it crumbles to the ground with a metallic screech.

It writhes, and the large feet tries to kick the prime’s smaller body away – but he’s too close to the large moa, his claws twisting into the small head sticking from the undercarriage. And the screaming continues as he rends through the metal with gleaming claws, his maw in a growling sneer and gargling black over his chin and over his oozing throat. He doesn’t care about the intruders right now, even as metal spears surge through his chest, knocking him forward through his frantic search for the wire wrapped in his throat.

One pierces his heart.

But it only makes him shutter, pulling the limp wire free from his off-kilter throat.

He’s relieved as he can feel the wire slip clean from his flesh, severing the line with his ichor black staining teeth as heat wheezes through his punctured lungs, choking and gargling on his black blood in retching heaves that pour from his throat in waves. His hands are shaking, barely conscious as energy surges through him once again.

The sentry is still there, waiting for him.

Kill the intruders – it screams.

It forces him to stand, black ichor coating his chest from the puncturing spears and vomited blood. His vision is still blurred, further still as he can barely see his hands as he holds them towards his chokes and heaves. He can feel his claws wrapping against his neck, biting down as he exposes his throat for the fingering hand at his oozing wound. A pitched gurgle bites through his heaving chest as the golden claws dig into his skin, holding his head in place.

It should keep his off-kilter throat stable until the intruders are eradicated. KILL.

At his chest he can feel the spears scraping against his lungs, scratching in every breath as he whirls around to face the remaining intruders, the one that held him firm for the capture attempt, strong enough to keep his weakened strength contained. Ill looking fingers flex as it drips black from weathered wrists, lines still connected but loose as one of the would-be captives tries to pull.

Yanking at his throat.

With a snarl, a burping of bubbling blood, he turns to their direction, flesh surging brilliant as a blade manifests from an oozing wrist unpreoccupied. It’s jagged, unfocused, made of a flayed mind with nothing but burning hatred and unyielding pain. As energy blades soar blindly as he cuts the air between him and the intruders, it severs the pitching screams and the frantic fire that follows, casting a sudden vacuum of noise as they drop dead.

He can’t see; how does he know?

By the neural sentry creating a vacuum in his energy reserves, sucking any life it might’ve breathed into him before it sent him off to assisted suicide. It praises him, even as it replaces the numbed pain with blistering agony.

But that hatred keeps him conscious, staring at the ceiling as he continues to choke on his own blood, feeling his consciousness wane in the agony surge. He can feel the spears juggle with every pained breath, warm fluid drip over his legs as they crumble him to the floor at the peak of the now quiet room – quiet except for his shallow breathing, snarling into the void air.

He was never angry at the intruders.

They’re just a casualty.

In the back of his mind, as he tries to put together his jumbled thoughts in a sea of shearing pain he remembers something; something from so long ago.

He has a name.

And that name is; Xev.

And finally, as his consciousness fades, leaning lax against the spears that pierced his backs, he curses the neural sentry, vowing only one thing. A goal. Somewhere he wants to be and not directed.

To be free.

#VueWritten #Warframe #horror #Prose #Xev

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northwest-cryptid · 7 years ago

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Get to know me tag thing that I’ve not gotten a tag for in a real long time so I’ve sorta forgot how they work but I’m just gonna wing it and hope it’s okay in the end. I have been tagged by @kaiachu to do the “get to know me tag” thing, I normally don’t get tagged for this sort of thing so I’m happy to give it a shot :D (Thanks by the way!)

This got way longer than I thought it’d be so, here’s a read more for the people who follow me and don’t have any kind of xkit thing to blacklist “#long post”

1ST RULE: tag 10 people you want to get to know better (I’m horrible with that sort of thing so I probably won’t have 10 people but I’ll try to at least tag some people in this (and yet I’ll fail, trust me.))

2ND RULE: bold the statements that are true (Personally this format sorta confuses me so I’m just going off what was already listed and just gonna swap out details to be facts about me hope that’s alright, rules are weird, I’m not really a rebel but sometimes it’s easier to make your own rules :P)

APPEARANCE: -I’m nearly 6 foot but I genuinely forget the exact, though I know I’m rounding up so that’s a thing. -I have black hair and brown eyes -My hair doesn’t know what it wants to do, some days it’s super curly other days it’s straighter than the most cliche straight white boy. -I’m tall and skinny which is honestly a little annoying -I’m not super pale but I’m what I’d call “white” if my Native American heritage and culture didn’t make me salty about everyone calling me white :P -Imagine Akira from Persona 5, except I can’t summon demons and also I’m not anime, and also I’m not as attractive as him, and also I remember to turn off the light when I go to sleep (there’s a joke for anyone out there who’s played Persona 5 and got annoyed when Akira continuously left the damn lights on every night, no wonder he needs glasses!) Basically I’ve got that same general tall skinny guy build with curly poofy hair and right now it’s actually pretty short so I could actually style it like that if I wanted.

PERSONALITY: -I’m an unintentionally sassy/sarcastic friend if you know me well enough to know I’m joking. -I am always up to help someone however I can, be that listening to their problems or taking direct action to help solve said problems. Though I dislike the idea of being the therapist friend who is only ever spoken to when someone has a problem. -I have more social anxiety in casual settings, however during important/formal social events I find that I already know my role and I’m relatively calm so I’d not say I’m anxious in every social situation. I just need to know my role. -I really try to be a chill person, however I feel like a lot of our culture says “chill” and means “has no opinions on anything and won’t take a stand against something they don’t believe in.” I say that mostly because I find that people will often talk about how chill I am right up until something strikes a nerve with me and I stand up for my morals or beliefs and suddenly it’s “wow you’re so dramatic!” For the record no I’m not talking about the MANY times I’ve actually been way too god damn dramatic (believe me I’m all too aware of those times). -I love all animals, I’ve volunteered at cat shelters quite a lot in my early life because we had a no-kill shelter near my house that needed someone to work with the unadoptable cats. However I’ve been part of a family who has rescued anything from squirrels to snakes to bearded dragons to dogs, to one legged parrots, at one point we had a tarantula and weirdly enough I wasn’t quite as scared of it as I am with most spiders... still didn’t want it anywhere near me. However yeah in general I’ve helped treat tons of animals in my life and I’ve learned to appreciate them all.

ABILITY: -I’d say I can’t draw to save my life but Bob Ross basically dedicated his life to explaining that anyone can make art so yea I’ll respect that. I’m not exactly good at it though. -I’m reasonably athletic but it depends on the activity. I’m a fine sprinter but a bad jogger, I’m good at fencing, I can bike for quite a while, I work out fairly often when I get the chance and according to the numbers the machines give me I’m healthily athletic? I’m not some sports person though. -I personally hate sleeping, it feels like a waste of my time. -I love to play/write music. Music is such a beautiful form of art that can make people feel so many different emotions. Music means a lot to me and I love to sit down and play an instrument with friends or write a new song.

HOBBIES: -I play a LOT of games, anything from video games to tabletop D&D to dice games and casino style gambling games with friends :P -I tend to draw, write, or make music for fun whenever I have an artistic itch to scratch. -I previously mentioned that I work out, I don’t say that to brag or anything I just genuinely find it fun to run around a gym listening to motivational music and having an outlet for all my energy. -It may sound silly but a legitimate hobby of mine is to listen to music, I will sometimes just sit down and put on music I like, this is often something I’ll do at night, I like to just sit down with some tea and relax with good music. -I also enjoy driving, mostly night driving but I’m not going to be picky. Getting lost out in the middle of nowhere and admiring the scenery around me is always really fun, it’s part of why I love night-driving I really enjoy getting away from the light pollution and looking up at the stars. I drive a convertible so it makes it really easy to see everything around me while I drive, but it’s sort of a death trap if I get in an accident so I tend to take in the sights when I’m at a stop and not in the middle of a drive :P

EXPERIENCES: I’m prefixing this with the fact my life is boring and the more interesting experiences of my life are things I don’t much care to just share with the internet -I’ve flown out to New York numerous times to visit my ex (who I was dating at the time) and that was always fun, it was always weirdly freeing to know that I had saved the money and independently flown myself out there. -I once stabbed my foot with my own pocket knife by somehow flipping it open as it fell off my desk it hit a vein in my foot and I was squirting blood down the hallways at like 2 AM. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as you’d think but it wasn’t fun to say the least. -Meryl and I used to often go night driving and actually managed to get out of the car and go hiking a few times at like 2 - 3 AM it was fun, except one time we managed to get a flat tire out in Washington and didn’t have a spare tire so it was exciting to find a way of getting home at midnight when we were a whole state away.

RELATIONSHIPS: -I’m not gonna list my previous relationships or anything I don’t really feel like that’s respectful to the people I was in the relationships with, even if they weren’t all the best people (though most of them were/are fine people) I don’t want to disrespect other people’s privacy. -However I will say that I’m currently single as fuck.

MY LIFE: -My life has been sorta interesting lately. -I’ve recently really connected with my local friends, I’m part of a D&D group which helped me make a new friend, and an old childhood friend of mine recently texted me saying he lives in the area and wants to hang out sometime. I love all my friends, and I care so much about my internet friends don’t get me wrong but it is also nice to be able to get out of the house and hang with a friend every now and then. -My family is pretty small, I’ve got 1 older brother (I know I have some siblings from my dad’s previous wife but outside of my half brother I sadly don’t know them well). -I live in Oregon but I can be found driving throughout the west coast at night, you’ll know if you find me because I’m the asshole in the red convertible playing music at like 3 AM but really quietly because I want to respect people who might be sleeping but also just loud enough that you can kinda hear it in the distance because it’s a fucking convertible and road noise makes it hard to hear... oh and also I’ll have the top down even if it’s like 10 degrees out because I like the cold and I’m probably wearing like literally a tank-top and leather jacket to balance the temperature. -I’ve literally had over 50 animals in this house at the same time. Currently however we have 1 Rhea, we just got another few chickens I think we have 3 - 4 now? We have 2 cats, 1 dog, 1 ball python, and... I think that’s it right now?

RANDOM SHIT: -I’m currently 22 -I love talking to people but I’m bad at starting conversations... -I’ve currently been playing Warframe, Guild Wars 2, FFXIV, and PSO2, though to be honest I’ll play just about anything if a friend asks me to :P -Personal favorite food is Cheesecake unless you don’t count that, then it’s Pad Thai, then Sushi, then Shrimp in general. -In person I can hold a conversation for hours, on the internet I’m awful at it. -I often feel like I’m overbearing to new friends because I am easily excited at the concept of making new friends. -I will start writing 20 D&D campaigns knowing full well I’ll never actually get to DM them for anyone, it’s a weird obsession I have with the concept of storytelling through experiences.

I mentioned this at the start, I’m bad at tagging people so the only thing I can really say here is that if you’re someone who (like myself) likes listing off random stuff about yourself, feel free to take it upon yourself and consider yourself tagged. If you’re not the type to be comfortable with this sorta thing that’s cool too, no pressure. If you DO write up one of these after seeing mine, feel free to tag me in the post so I know :P

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diasthedeathknight · 7 years ago

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The Monkey and the Sandguardian

"So...Inaros? Who do you like?", Limbo asks the black-red Guardian of the Sand. The Warframe just shrugs and then says: "I never thought about that" "Serious? There must be someone!", Limbo states and Inaros giggels, then he draws back his bow, the arrow buried deep within the head of an infested. "Nope. No one. I never thought of someone until you now spoke of it", he then answers and is serious about it. Limbo sighs and then he says: "Okay...who do you like?" Inaros pauses for a moment, then he shrugs and Limbo just freezes in place, then he screams: "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" "I would never lie about something like this, Limbo. I know that you love to help other out with their love problem, but I don't have any love interest", Inaros then said and Limbo sighs, fires his Sidearm at a few Infested that are running towards them. "Then let's extract and meet at the Dojo...we do some old fashioned ways to find you someone you like and maybe even love", Limbo says and over the com they can hear Equinox: "Boys, it isn't even time for extraction yet!" "What?" "Yeah, we are only a few minutes in...and we wanted to stay until the 20th minute. Remember?", Equinox says and she sound annoyed. "Yeah that was true...but..." "No but, Limbo! We are staying until the 20th Minute! I'm not working my ass of here so that we can extract after 5 Minutes! Besides, the Agent wouldn't be that happy about it and next time he sends us only the bad stuff", reminds him Oberon and Limbo sighs, then says: "Okay, whe stay until the 20th minute...but then we extract!" "Sure", says Oberon and Inaros giggles, then says to Limbo: "Seems to me like Equinox is the man in your relationship" Limbo sighes and then states: "Sometimes it is really annoying but I do love him and her, but I like his dayform more" Inaros nods and then throws some sand at an Infestes Eximus, that was about to grap Limbo.

"So....who do you like to go on missions with?", Limbo asks and Inaros just shrugs. "There must be anyone!", Limbo then says and Inaros looks at the other Warframe, then states: "Limbo, I have guarded Mars from Infested and the Orokin Empire and the Grineer. You think that I had the time for looking any other Warframe back then?" "Well...but now you don't guard those people anymore", Limbo says and Inaros sighes, then he nods and says: "I know...but even now I just...what if I wouldn't have been torn apart by the sandstorm? I...I even feel how he ripps me apart every time I use my sandstorm..." "Well, then how about you talk to Wukong? He dissolves into smoke everytime", Limbo says and Inaros just laughs, then states: "Wokung is used to it. I have nearly every time a heart attack when I'm using this power of me...that's why I need to collect myself everytime after I'm done using this ability. It just...stresses me and my mental health. Last time I even dreamt about it...! And not the good kind of dream!" "I'm also having nightmares", suddenly the voice of the Stalker is heared behind them and while Limbo screames in shock, Inaros just turns his head and says: "Yeah...but you have Frost, who is there for you" "Yes and also, Limbo stop screaming like a child, but I can alos teach you how to calm you down faster after such a nightmare", the Stalker offers and Inaros sighs, then says: "It is wort a try...I don't have to lose anything, don't I?" The once headhunter laughs and then he sits down in front of Inaros, Limbo just gets up and says: "I'm out of here..." He still is a little bit uncomfortable around the Stalker, their former enemy and so he just leaves both of them. "So...the first thing is that you need to control your breath. Are you a Warframe or a Operator that has binded himself permantenly to a Warframe?", he asks and Inaros sighs, then he answers: "An Operator that has binded himself to a Warframe. I...I didn't knew that it would be so...hard and...that Inaros is so stressed and that he is so full of guilt" "Well...this complicates things...maybe you...wait a second", suddenly the Stalkerframe just freezes and out of it steps a Operator, whose face is covered with a black-red scarf. "Why are you looking at me like that?", the Operator asks and then Inaros says: "I...it's just that I...since when do you have an Operator?" "Since I meet Frost and he extracted my Void Power in this Form, before he himself transfered himself in the Frost Warframe, so that I can use his chair and ship", the Operator states and his red eyes are now scanning the other Warframe, then he says: "Kneel down. Hands on your tighs and head down" Inaros follows his Order and the Operator does the same, then he hears the Voice of the Operator, that was once the conciousness of the Stalker in his mind. "Now...let's take all that grief and anger and but it to use. Everytime you use your abilitys let some anger flow into it", the Voice says and then Inaros feels calm, his breathing slows down and he nods, as he looks up, the Stalker is kneeling in front of him, his hand is resting on his shoulder. "Is that how you are dealing with your feelings?", he asks and the Stalker nods, then he says: "If it is too much for you...I know an Operator that can reverse the Process. So that you would be an Operator again" "No...I can do that. And thanks for the help Stalker!", he then says and the Stalker chuckels, then the headhunter vanishes in a smoke cloud. And Inaros knows exactly what to do.

"Wukong! Come here! I can launch you to him!", he screams and Wukong nods, then jumps to him, dissolves into fog, Inaros takes a deep breath and then he starts to spin, sand is building up and then a full sandstorm erupts from the Warframe, who is screaming loud, the fog get's catched up in the Sandstorm and Inaros moves forward, slow, but steady. Then he stops and the fog cloud get's launched at the Eidolon, Wukong emits from it, the Lanka in it's hands. "HARROW! RHINO! NOW!", Inaros screams, then the loud roar of Rhino can be heared and the protective energy of Harrow flows throug all of them, the whole squas is protected and Wukong floats in the air, his Lanka is aimed at the head of the Eidolon. "DIE!", Wukong then screams and the loud shot of the Lanka echoes through the plains, then they all hear the loud scream of the Eidolon, blue glowing blood, that is almost white, erupts from the big wound and the Eidolon collapses. "YES!", Wukong lands in front of Inaros and then hugs him, pulls the other closer to his chest and joy is emitting from the monkey king. "We did it..", he whispers and then looks up to Inaros, who is then laughing and then the arms of the other Warframe are around Wukong. "Yes...we did it", Inaros whispers and if Wukong would have a face we would immediatly blush. So the only indicator that he is emberassed is his flicking tail and the nervous glitching of his two energy tails, that are coming out his head.

"So...how are things between you and Wukong?", Limbo asks him. Inaros laughs and says: "Well....look for yourself~" Wukong emits next to them and leans against Inaros, looks to Limbo and then to Inaros. "So...we have to thank Lmbo for that?", he asks and Inaros shakes his head, then he points at the Stalker who is currently fighting of some Grineer. "No, we have to thank the headhunter for that. With out his advise I would have never overcome my fears", he says and Wukong giggels, then his helmet nestels in the neck of Inaros. "I will keep that in mind", he says, then the monkey king jumps in front of the Stalker, summons his staf and splits a Grineer in half with one hit. "You come?", he then asks the two others and Inaros laughs, unholstering his bow and charges forward.

#warframe #inaros #wukong #fanfic #english isn't my first language #sorry for typos #slight angst

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heartslogos · 8 years ago

Text

the fool rushes in [2/2]

Kore takes small sips from her can of fizz-cola. Judge watches her. He watches as her shoulders slowly, slowly relax and slowly slope downwards as she leans back to look at the sky.

He traces his fingernail in a circle around the remaining can next to him.

“Hey,” Judge says, softly.

Kore’s head tilts towards him.

“Got something else for you,” Judge says, and beckons his Helios over from where the sentinel had been lying next to Ash.

Helios slowly lights up and glides over to him. Judge nods at it and a few of its lights blink in what Judge thinks might be an affirmative before it zooms off towards Kore, various segments spinning and flickering.

Kore’s head turns to watch the sentinel - Judge can see her frowning -

And then the music starts.

Kore jumps, falling back onto her elbows and scrambling back, knocking over her can of fizz-cola. It’s, luckily, empty.

“What?” Kore gapes as the sentinel bobs in the air, music playing from some speakers that Judge had finally figured out about three days ago.

“Um, Simaris and Suda had conflicting ideas,” Judge says when Kore looks towards him, “About what you’d like. I was going through Suda’s archives first - “

He can see Kore’s eyebrows slowly raising, “Is that why you took so long?”

“And then when I went to see if Simaris had anything else - uh. I didn’t realize how much he liked you.”

Kore’s teeth flash as she laughs. Judge grins back before clearing his throat and lowering his voice - “Hunter, I am beginning to doubt your perception. Clearly you are misinformed. Hunter Persephone would never be impressed by such a weak display of pitifully arranged and unorganized data sound files.”

Kore’s laughter grows louder. She leans back on her hands, head tilting back as the sound bubbles out of her, bursting like fireworks in the sky.

Judge thinks that even her Saryn’s tendrils are moving like they’re laughing.

“And of course, you know what happened when I told him that I got that data from Cephalon Suda,” Judge continues, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Hunter! You would trust the data of such a damaged Cephalon? Cephalon Suda cannot be trusted with such an important matter. Disregard what she has told you.”

Kore stops laughing long enough to say, “Good thing Suda wasn’t in contact.”

“Oh no,” Judge agrees, “That was before I was getting the music files and when I was just searching their archives for ideas on what to do wit you in the first place. I kept going back and forth and every time I’d have one of them over my shoulder - it’s not so bad with Cephalon Suda. She’s kind of average sized. But with Simaris?”

Kore’s elbows give out and she’s flat on her back, knees curling up to her chest as she laughs.

“No,” Kore moans, turning onto her side, “No!”

“It’s just this giant orange projection zoomed in over my shoulder and all the other Tenno and people on the relay are looking at me like - what’s this guy looking for?” Judge continues, “And it’s the two of them bickering in this weird back and forth. Like every single time I go in to look for something or to cross reference files the other says the other is so incredibly wrong and I was this close, Kore, this close to saying that they’re starting to sound like each other and maybe they’re a data match.”

Kore screams into the fold of her arm, “They’d kill you.”

“Nah, Suda likes me too much for that,” Judge says, “And I figure Simaris would at least want me in his archive, so it’s not like I’d be really dead. Just digital. I think I got a good selection, though.”

Judge watches as Kore’s laughter slowly dies down, and she sits up, brushing grass off of her hair and the sides of her suit. She looks relaxed - really relaxed - now, and Judge feels something in him ease. The Void energy inside of him still circles and crashes and collides in a storm that makes everything feel bubbly and wobbly, but at least the rest of his nerves aren’t falling apart anymore. At least, no more so than usual.

He holds up the other can of fizz-cola to her.

Kore tilts her head, pushing to her feet - dusting off the rest of her suit as she stands.

“You didn’t drink it?” She asks, walking over to him and taking the can.

“I don’t like the taste,” Judge says.

Kore rolls her eyes, opening the can with a quiet pop. “It’s not about the taste. I hate the taste. It’s like battery acid or whatever kind of toxic sludge Helminth thinks it can slip me when I’m not paying attention.”

“You’re always paying attention,” Judge replies dutifully. “Wait, you don’t like it? For as long as I’ve known you outside the dream you’ve been trying to make it!”

“I like it,” Kore says, “I just don’t like the taste of it. It’s not about the taste. It’s about the feel. The fizz part of the fizz-cola.”

Judge feels his face twist in confusion.

Kore rolls her eyes.

“Get up,” She says, putting the can of fizz-cola down. Judge blinks and Kore lightly kicks his knee. “Up.”

Judge slowly stands up and watches as Kore picks up the blankets and padding he got and hauls them to a respectful distance from the altar and puts them down.

She starts to flatten them out and rearrange them.

“Lie down,” She says.

Judge blinks and starts to sit down again.

“Judge,” Kore sounds exasperated as she looks at him - “I meant over here.”

“Oh.” Judge shoots a nervous glance at their warframes. Saryn is still looking at the sky and Ash seems to be ignoring him entirely. Judge can’t tell if he’s projecting or if that’s true, though. Judge slowly crosses the few feet to Kore.

When she just looks at him expectantly, he slowly gets down onto his knees, crawling on top of the bedding before cautiously turning to lie on his back.

His nerves are back again at full force and the energy inside of him is startling to wobble precariously towards unraveling.

Kore watches him - the yellow-green of her inner eye is distinctly visible despite the low lighting - and nods once.

She then starts to unzip the top of her suit -

Judge doesn’t actually make any sounds, but he does choke on something. Air. Saliva. Void energy trying to escape through his mouth?

Kore takes off the top of her transference suit, carefully folding it and setting it down at the bottom corner of the nest she had made. He stares at her, stares at the plain undershirt she’s wearing and her arms and her neck and her collar bones and -

“On your side,” Kore orders, voice crisp and demanding no protests. Judge blinks an mechanically rolls onto his side, pulse pounding. He feels Kore get onto the mats behind him.

He jerks when he feels her knees line up behind his, her front pressing against his back and her arm going over his side.

Kore’s nose and mouth nudge against the back of his neck. Her arm squeezes him tentatively.

“I don’t like to be touched,” Kore says lowly. He can feel her talking through the back of his suit as she curls close to him. Judge thinks that his heart is about to actually slam it’s way through his chest. “But I know you like it.”

She pauses, the unspoken and I like you hangs in the air between them like a breath.

“And I - I don’t mind touching as much as I mind being touched,” Kore says. “So - is this okay?”

Judge nods, not trusting his voice not to be a pathetic squeak right now.

Kore doesn’t like a lot of things, but when confronted with either the possibility of those things happening in a vague unspecified time and place not of her choosing, or of Kore going to seek those things out and get them out of her way on her own terms -

Well. Simaris is completely on point in more than one way when he refers to Kore as hunter.

Kore’s hand slowly slides up his chest, and he can feel her fingers opening, splaying and feeling out -

Judge brings his hand to his chest and carefully touches his fingertips to the back of her hand. Kore blindly tangles their fingers together, drawing Judge’s hand towards his chest. She can probably feel how hard his heart is pounding right now.

“I like this song,” Kore says. Most of the songs he’d found were fragmented - broken apart. But he’d found a few decent files left. Nothing Orokin, of course.

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” Kore nods against his back. “I like the breeze, too. Feels good. You’re right. I can’t feel this in a frame.”

“You’re not cold?” Judge asks.

Kore shakes her head, “Mm. No. M’good. Void makes me run hot.”

He didn’t know that. The Void tends to make Judge just feel - pressure, in general. Not exactly hot or cold. Just - pressure. Judge feels his smile slowly return and he lets out a long sigh.

“You good?” Kore asks, knee nudging the back of his leg.

“Yeah,” Judge says, “I was just - worried. I really do just want you to be happy, Kore. At least - I wanted you to be able to enjoy one night out in the open without being afraid. I’m not very good at this - planning and focusing on things. But I’m learning.”

“Quick learner,” Kore mumbles, voice low. Judge slowly runs his thumb over hers and she squeezes his fingers.

Judge closes his eyes and - and just listens. The music Helios is playing. The sounds of the water and Earth’s breeze. The sounds of the night around them - Kore’s low breathing.

He squeezes her hand tight. It’s not so bad when he can’t see. It’s just when - he can’t move. Can’t hear things.

That’s when it gets hard.

Judge focuses on trying to get his Void energy back under control. It’s related to his emotions, he knows - and he also knows he’s really stupidly happy and excited right now. But he’d rather not ruin it by accidentally exploding.

Kore’s trusted him with this - trusted him to keep her safe and not hurt her. He’s not going to ruin this.

Destroy it.

Judge swallows, squeezing Kore’s hand a little tighter. He bites his lip, fighting to hold still. To not move and squirm and turn over and hold her and press his face to her hair or anything like that. On Kore’s terms, he reminds himself.

There are still sounds. He can move. There is nothing - physically - stopping him from moving. He’s surrounded in open space. There is nothing holding him aside from Kore and Kore is Kore. It’s dark because he closed his eyes. He can open them whenever he wants to. This is fine. This is fine. He is in control. This is -

There’s no more music.

Judge freezes.

“Judge?” Kore’s voice is soft - worried - and Judge feels his heart kick in his chest, off beat. He should probably breathe but he’s -

Where are the other sounds? The energy inside of him starts to slip past his control - uneven, wobbling, teetering, off balance and quickly unraveling and he can’t hear anything over that pound inside of him and -

“Judge!” Kore quickly rolls him onto his back and Ash is there, pulling him out from under her and Saryn yanks Kore back, holding Kore to her chest, brilliant green poison spores beginning to mist out from her hand as she cradles Kore to her chest, the white tendrils on her shoulder and crest writhing with alarm.

Ash’s arms are tight around him and that isn’t what Judge needs - Judge needs to move, he needs to let Kore know it’s alright, he’s fine - it’s -

But Ash doesn’t know that. Ash doesn’t understand - Ash is just trying to protect him from something that Ash can’t understand. All that Ash knows is that Judge is hurt, is panicked, and is reacting to something. And Judge can’t get his head together properly to convey that to Ash in a way that the frame can process.

Judge does not and probably will never have the level of communication Kore seems to have with her frames.

Ow. Judge feels his lip break with how hard he’s biting it and this is not how he wanted this to go at all -

“Judge!” Kore yells out again, pushing herself out of her Saryn’s arms and ignoring Ash as Judge’s frame drags Judge back and tries to turn away from her. “Judge, it’s okay. It’s okay. Judge? What’s wrong? Judge, talk to me.”

Kore’s fingers are with his again, prying his hands open. Her hands are so warm. You can’t feel things in a dream, Judge reminds himself. Kore is real. Judge is not asleep. Judge is not dreaming.

Judge is feeling Kore’s skin with his own.

He squeezes his eyes shut. Kore’s hands on his. His heart pounds - blocking out all the other sounds, almost as loud as the Void inside of him, both sounds slowly overtaking Kore’s voice as she tries to talk him down. Ash’s arms are still to tight for him to move.

But he can feel Kore’s hands. Warm. Moving. Real.

Enough proof that this isn’t part of a dream.

He slowly starts to drag himself back together. Under as much control as he ever will have. Judge doesn’t know how long it takes -

He gets back eventually. He always does.

The process of getting his brain back together - to focus - always leaves him a bit dazed.

“Sorry,” Judge rasps out as he slowly tries to catch his breath, grimacing at the taste of blood in his mouth.

Kore’s hands squeeze his and her eyes are wide. “Judge?”

“Got nervous,” Judge says and Kore just stares at him. “It happens. I got better?”

Judge carefully starts to pry himself out of Ash’s arms. Kore turns around and goes to sort out her own frame, carefully talking Saryn into sitting back down. Saryn’s spores dissipate harmlessly after a few seconds of Kore gently talking to her but Saryn’s faceplate is firmly directed at Judge.

Kore hurriedly grabs one of the blankets and comes back, throwing it around Judge’s shoulders as she pulls him back towards the bedding.

“Can you talk about it?” Kore asks once he’s seated with the blanket held around him. The Void’s energy has shrunk down low now, Judge feels drained. Empty. He didn’t discharge, he knows - there’s no damage and he would have felt it, but he’s swung towards the quiet side of things and he’s off balance. Sensitive, in a way.

“I get overwhelmed sometimes is all,” Judge says, “Sometimes - I just.”

Kore sits a bit away from him, but she’s leaning forward, listening.

“I was underground for most of the war,” Judge blurts out, “I wasn’t - I couldn’t be trusted to deploy a lot. I couldn’t control my Void energy. At all. It was always just going, going, going. So they chained me to the inside of an asteroid when I wasn’t in transference. It was dark. And quiet. And really - disorienting.”

Judge stares down at the dull bedding, squeezing his hands into the fabric around his shoulders. He rubs the material between his fingers - friction, heat, anything.

“Transference always feels like - I’m removed? Like I’m in a haze? Like I’m not moving, but not really? Like it isn’t really me making decisions. Everything - everything gets scrambled and I have trouble thinking. But one minute it’d be dark and completely quiet and I can’t move at all and the only thing there is is the Void and then the next I’m Mag? Or Trinity? Or something and I have a mission but I don’t remember where I got it from and I’m fighting but I’m not exactly sure how? I just. I just wanted to go, go, go. And now I know why - it’s because transference is kind of like a dream, it is the dream, so I’m not actually there but at the same time I am and.” Judge sucks in a breath. And slowly releases it. “And sometimes it’s hard to remember which is which because I can get stuck in my head and I forget. It’s weird. It passes.”

“Does it have triggers?” Kore asks, softly.

Judge shrugs, “Sometimes it’s because it’s too dark. Or maybe it’s too quiet. Or I can’t move. Things like that. It’s all over the place, like I am.”

Judge’s attempt at a joke falls completely flat. He glances up and sees Kore looking at Helios.

“So when Helios ran out of music files - ?”

Judge looks the sentinel that’s worriedly hovering over them, optic camera twitching as it glances from him to Ash and Saryn and Kore.

“I shouldn’t have run out of files,” Judge says, “I had like - a hundred of them.”

“You had one hundred sound files for one night?” Kore asks, “How long did you think we’d be here?”

“I wanted to be prepared! Half of them were under two minutes anyway!”

“So that’s one hundred minutes plus? Wait, no - focus. So when it went quiet, you got - nervous? And,” Kore pauses, slowly moving back, “You couldn’t move because I was holding you - and it’s night - “

Judge lurches forward, careful not to touch her - “No, it’s not. It wasn’t you. I - touching you - feeling you there with me helped. A lot. Because you - you breathe and you’re warm and obviously not a dream. I’m just a mess. You know that.”

Kore’s eyes search his for a long moment before she gets up. Judge scrambles after her, but Kore barks out - “Stay there.”

Judge freezes and watches with a sinking stomach as Kore steps into her warframe.

He waits for Saryn to leave, but Saryn stays seated. A few moments later, Kore materializes again.

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” Kore says. Judge blinks up at her.

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Close your eyes,” Kore repeats, softer, kneeling in front of him, “And open your mouth.”

Her eyes are earnest and Judge trusts her - he’s trusted her before he even knew her - and closes his eyes, and opens his mouth.

Kore places something small between his teeth, “Close. And chew.”

Judge closes his mouth and tentatively bites down on -

Judge yelps, eyes flying open. It’s cold.

Kore rattles a container in her hand.

“Chewing gum,” Kore says, “I thought maybe if you had this you wouldn’t chew on your lip so much. But - you know - you can’t taste things in dreams.”

Judge stares at her.

“And even in the transference you cant taste anything,” Kore continues, holding out the container to him. Kore’s mouth twists ruefully, “Warframes have no mouths.”

Judge’s slowly takes the container from Kore - every chew releases a fresh burst of cold across his tongue. He shakes out a few more pieces into his hand. Each square is a different color.

“How?” Judge asks.

“Saw it at Maroo’s when I was exchanging for endo,” Kore answers, slowly moving to sit next to him again. “I’d read about it in a few files I’d browed at Simaris’ place before when I was bored.”

Judge idly wonders if this was before or after she’d made Simaris shed a digital tear with how proficient she is at hunting targets for synthesis.

She leans her head on his shoulder and Judge lightly turns to rest his cheek on her hair.

“I’m a mess,” Judge says, “But you knew that already. I’m sorry.”

“We’re Tenno,” Kore shrugs, “We’re all messes.”

Judge runs his tongue over the gum in his mouth, confused at the taste and the feel but - “Is this what you mean by the feel?”

Kore hums, “Just don’t swallow it. I’m told you aren’t meant to. I think you spit it out or throw it away or something. Wait, do spit it out, don’t choke on it, Judge. You can’t choke on this thing.”

“Kore, I’ve choked on my own spit before. You can’t tell me not to choke on something.”

“You aren’t making me feel any better.”

“At least I’m being honest about it. I mean, have I ever?”

Kore groans and rubs her cheek against his shoulder.

“Kore?”

“Mm?”

Judge slowly puts his hand open on his knee, “It really wasn’t you that made me lose it like that. I’m sorry. And I - didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Kore slowly puts her hand onto his, closing their fingers together.

“I know.”

“I like it when we touch,” Judge says. “I don’t want you to feel that - that we can’t. I don’t want it to be that way. That you think that it’s - it’s like those other times with - ”

“I don’t think of touching you like when the Orokin touched me. I like touching you, Judge. And being touched by you.”

“Really?” Judge turns his head a bit more and Kore nods.

“I like it. Sometimes. I’m just,” Kore shrugs, “Bad at it.”

“Well. I’m bad at - a lot of things. So. I guess we’re even?”

Judge can hear Kore rolling her eyes. But she doesn’t let go of his hand.

“Judge?” Kore says after a few moments of silence. The taste of the gum in his mouth is sharp, and it chills his breath. He feels amazingly awake.

“Yes?”

“I did have a good time tonight. Mostly,” Kore says slowly, “I appreciate it. What you did for me. For thinking about me.”

“I’m glad, I didn’t actually mean for it to go out of control like that.”

“So you’ve said. I know. It happens,” Kore says, “I mean it, Judge. I - it’s hard for me. But this was nice. A little warning would be good next time, maybe. A heads up.”

Judge nods, “I can do that.”

They both know it’s a work in progress - foresight. His brain tends to jump ahead and the rest of him tries to follow and not a single part of him thinks about possible problems with his solutions and ideas until he hits against them full speed. As Kore would say, the fool rushes in.

Usually she says that under her breath as Judge, does indeed, rush in and she has to go after him.

Judge closes his eyes and feels himself slowly relax against her.

She always rushes in right after him, though. So judge figures that he’s good. They’re good.

#heartsfic #warframe #Kadan #otp: space kids

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