the guardian angel

The Reliquary

#cyanopsiia #{ log: the reliquary }

cyanopsiia:

-How she could stand there–lecturing him–as monotone as she’d list off the results of searches he often requested? Didn’t she understand what was at stake here? Her confusion only fueled his ensuing tantrum. Little did he know, he was tearing himself down, or rather, tearing into the very place that sustained more of him now that just memories of city-lit skies. He waited, clutching the counter’s edge behind him with crooked fingers as sapped strength slowly reformed into whole images. The vase sat by his foot where it had fallen, flashing reformed cracks that it had sustained much earlier when a careless elbow had nudged it careening to the floor during a groggy morning ritual that smelled often like cinnamon toast and coffee.- What…are you saying here, exactly?

-He managed to ask, following her gestures with eyes caught between a state of blue and yellow, and burning the green mixture of the two as steadily as a computer screen shutting down.- You’re in the core, so this–ah…this has to be some little hole you dug into Ech0net, right? I mean, you get out of that just fine. Seriously, what the hell, Angel? -The AI growled, finding his footing only after a spine of empty cabinets closed themselves neat again.- Why are you doing this, baby?

We’ve come too far just to play these games. And you wanna go back h e r e …? -He gestured to the forgotten landscape without looking back; he knew it well enough.- Like none of what we did even mattered? A n g e l , I know you. Know you work too damned hard for that. -He mended his appeal at first approach. Each step brought him closer to her and those toes, pigeoned on the kitchen tile like a begrudging early riser. He could trust closing the distance between them for now. Before, he’d sought to keep a barrier between them in the subtle fears that maybe, just maybe this predicament was far worse than he’d imagined.

His fingers grazed the air in front of her, as careful as approaching Nisha’s demon of a horse, all in the name of sliding his palm along its muzzle. The AI never dreamed he could touch her–or anyone in this state; why would he? When months of touching nothing but sky that eventually slipped through his fingers as easily as blue light fading to the black, star-spattered variety, now clouding the air, had conditioned him to feel his surroundings out by his voice and its rough-cut edges? Hesitation reigned as he stood before her and eventually clapped a hand onto her shoulder. Honest-to-fuck on her goddamned shoulder.- Angel, you’re…-His eyes flicked to hers, narrowed, suspicions sapped by minuscule injections of artificially-mortal terror.-

You’re like this too?

It is unnerving to think how little has changed in him, but Angel expects no less. The sentience wouldn’t truly be Jack without this: the lies, especially to himself, and the manipulation.

Angel has heard them all.

The isolation, the blame, the lives lost, the destruction. All of it, he had said, to protect her.

But what had Pandora been to either of them, all those years ago? A rumor, so far removed in the relative comfort of a world that had never heard of hidden treasure in its wilds.

They had arrived here for Jack. She had been puppetted, right down to the metallic wiring, for Jack. She had died fully understanding it was not for but because of Jack.

Rainy days and skinned knees and bed time stories so long ago are only like the tales they belong in: once upon a time. They don’t change what leads them here.

“This was about you. The only thing you needed me for was my powers. You’re only bargaining now because you have no way out without my help.”

Angel wonders, when she stares back with a calm she hardly feels, if that spark in his eyes is realization. There is still an urge to balk under even so much as a hand against her, but there is comfort in knowing that she isn’t defenseless. Not here.

“The Control Core was shut down. I made that choice.”

hackingpandora

“So, let me get this straight, you actually want me to turn on the giant death gun?”

“Wait… let me hear the catch first. You do realize I’m not a Vault Hunter, right? I can’t fight my way through a horde of bandits to do this. Unless I want to come out swiss cheese. Or dead.”

“The bandit encampment is small. If you use the personnel access tunnels, you should avoid confrontation. They’ve had some difficulty breaking past the electronic locks.”

#hackingpandora

hackingpandora

“Guardian Angel sounds better than voice thing-y. It’s uh… it’s nice to kinda meet you. The name’s Rhys.”

“Wait, you’re really going to help me? Just like that?”

#hackingpandora #▹ v: flux

“There is a catch but hopefully, not one that will dissuade you.”

”This facility has been dormant for months, much to the benefit of Pandora; it housed a sizable mortar cannon capable of firing on nearby towns. I would like you to return power to the station. From there, I can deal with the cannon.”

hyperionides

Handsome Jack takes a few quick steps forward, folding his hands behind his back. “Ah, he sweet, sweet sound of progress. Now that’s what I like to hear!”

“Any word from those bandits in Sanctuary? Or is it too much to hope they blew themselves up when I wasn’t looking?”

“Communications from Sanctuary have been scarce, sir. The last messages I intercepted indicated the Crimson Raiders would be meeting inside the city walls. I believe they are headed to their contact out on the tundra next.”

#hyperionides

The Reliquary

-It was hard to read what she’s thinking under the dark wave settling over her eyes like a sun hat’s wide brim, the only proper attire when faced with the building heat behind the blue flame hiding just under his surface. She was positively aglow herself, perhaps struggling to keep her illusions, or whatever she had blindfolded him with, from shattering around them and revealing the distant Helios–the true North star. now absent in the building-plagued sky. Funny how he’d once considered this familiar plane–vast. When Pandora and its uninterrupted atmosphere could swallow memories of cramped horizons and make even the hungriest for space feel Forever.

And yet, for all the lack of tangibility, he’d found plenty to work with–an artist in his own right. When every finger in the room pointed at him like the glare of every one of her artificial stars, he’d find a way to ensure the majority of their claims paled in comparison to the three digits coiled under each palm and aimed undeniably at the accuser. He’d pick them out, effortless as cracking them backwards until they would always face the opposite of their claims.

The what now? -Bored with the stars of her so called reliquary, he studied her, frustration mounting. She was important to his plans; she was different than anyone who thought they could piss him off by continually denying the urgency of his request. A reckless endangerment to herself–whether she kept him there until Hyperion shut her down, or he opted for force against the core he’d rather not risk.- Oh, I’d say it’s about you. You freakin; swoop in, right when I’m about to figure out what the hell’s been going on while I’ve been trapped like this, do you–do you see this right now? -The AI gestured, sending a burst of data cubes that were gently peeling from his shoulders into a frantic swarm of blue bees, agitated further by her claims.- No, no, no, no–I’m not out of time, pumpkin. I’m out of my fucking mind, and I need to be put back in it!

-As he rounded the corner of the island, stalking his way towards her, he swatted an empty vase off the platform, and stepped over its swarm as piece by piece, it reconstructed itself on the floor.- …I’m done playing. -Eyes flashing a furious shade of gold, he scanned the room for any hint of an answer, exploding small trinkets as his gaze hopped from one to another, and–furious at no clear answer, overloaded what he could into confetti that slowly, infuriatingly, reformed with tantrum-killing patience.- I will tear this place apart… -When she fell under his wild gaze, it was his turn to explode, roaring incomprehensible static that shrouded each syllable, and extended beyond the sentiment.- UNLESS YOU LET ME OUT RIGHT F U C K I N G NOW ! -A moment of silence settled in the digitized haze until each piece of the room glimmered a little brighter than before, exhausting his earlier incandescence to heaving shoulders and slumping against the counter.- …

“You aren’t trapped.”

It’s deciphering a different sort of syntax, parsing through the breaks in anger and the rambling irritation. Fury at being denied, a lack of understanding. Angel hopes that he’ll see in his own time, at first, but it’s obvious his denial has blinded him to what she had figured out for herself early on: a remnant of a person, a shell of an idea, imprinted upon the world.

“The Vault of the Warrior was opened. The Vault Hunters defeated the creature inside it -- and then you.”

But never would Angel say that this makes his hold, his claim, to the title of Handsome Jack any less real. She sees it in him, that same spark of cunning and cruel awareness. No matter the circumstances that he exists, much like her own, he’s the essence of the man who once stalked the halls of Helios. And he’d been moments away from an indefinite foothold, one not easily shaken by bullets and brute force.

It’s all the more reason why his threats, the ones implied more than said, don’t sway her.

“There is nothing you can do to shut down the Reliquary. In its current state, we would both disappear with it.” A precaution, an anticipation of exactly this brand of tenacity. Her Siren powers had always been a tool before but not in this; the databases she resides in prominently, hidden on Pandora, had been phased the moment she had pulled Jack from Helios. Angel intends to keep them that way; the plane outside these walls, touched by the abilities of Sirens, is unknown.

#kadamkills #{ confused angel noises }#{ not sure of the verse on this }#{ but let me know if you'd prefer any in particular }

My, my... seems looks runs in the family. Lookit those pretty eyes you got there sweetheart. Break any poor mans heart?~

Angel’s only answer, for a long time, is an uncertain stare. Taken off guard is the whole of it; where to begin seems as nebulous and thin as air, grasping for words and her tongue still empty of anything of substance.

“I’m… sorry?”

fades in from the abyss

Replies and asks answered soon. <3 And if anyone wants to start something up, hit me up. Precious cinnamon bun will chat with all the other cinnamon buns.

#▹out of phase ( ooc )#{ verses negotiable and all that }

#cyanopsiia #{ log: the reliquary }

Forever Feels Like Home || Jack & Angel

listen cover credits here!

hyperionides

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You got any good news to go with that?”

“Executing Phaseshift.” There is the mechanical whir of doors as they peel back. The way isn’t obscured for long. “I do have news, sir. I've narrowed the candidates for Opportunity citizenship down to a thousand applications, pending your approval. The results will be forwarded to your ECHO shortly.”

#hyperionides

The Reliquary

We really outta download you some magazines on interior decorating, Sunshine. -He noted while exploring the room that seemed less of a room and more of a platform with oddly placed essentials and no walls to hide either of them from the preconceived notions of stars.- You shift some of the dreariest corners of existence, and let me tell you–I work on Helios. -It was a struggle, gauzing the wound his daughter’s sudden interference may have cost the both of them. How long had he’d suffered in this…pixelated existence? One only the foaming-mouthed Nakayama could explain with dioramas that they’d both likely end up testing Jackass stunts with at some point. About two minutes before Jack would drift out of the listening-boss default and into firing lasers at miniature Vault Hunters.

How much time had passed, then, since his Angel Control Core’s last maintenance? Surely enough to lose his chance at the Warrior Vault, according to soothsayers scattered throughout Pandora, and the blind delusions of the kid he’d inhabited, both claiming he’d somehow died, and everything he’d worked towards, as a result, had thus degraded into skag shit. Still, he hesitated to put stock in their claims when they sort of…freakin’ hated him. And if everything he’d known deteriorated, then Angel wouldn’t be here, flexing her claws curiously into the pillow of data she’d snatched out of seemingly a mere whim from the void, and while doing so, had somehow–trapped him in whatever corner of Ech0net she’d set up camp in.

Arms crossed, he paced the length of the glittering plane, circling around a kitchen island as he surveyed the distant cityscape with some pause–a moment’s ensnarement in crossing paths with what used to feel so familiar, but long forgotten, had retained its splendor long since lost in the hum drum monotony of watching and waiting for a the chance to reach beyond it. Opportunity had barely captured this sky’s essence. And what of Nakayama’s attempts? Had he only managed to capture a mock-skyline in his endeavors as well? The thought could have given the AI momentary pause if he’d lingered long enough in its consideration. Instead, he shook it free like a dog with a flea to shed, and wheeled around out of its wriggling luminescence. Catching her staring, his eyes narrowed at her demure poise.- Uhh, excuse me? It was an order, Angel–not a lunch negotiation. Who are you even–…look, Hyperion’s a cut-throat corporation. You know that. ‘Deadlines missed–and somebody roasts for it. I mean, not that I particularly care who orphans what family if some tool up there gets terminated because of this little stunt you’re pulling now, well…’never thought you had it in you to be so cruel, pumpkin.

-The coaxing game is infuriatingly slow, especially with work just…left waiting for him in form of Pandora and its defiant juxtaposition on the map and its thumbtack in his office. Just holding itself up like it might even begin to stand after he knocked it on its ass–without him there to brush the sand out of every scrape he inflicted. Jack forced a laugh, disguising impatience that guided every step like thunder across the ominous distance in her starry landscape.- H o n e y… -The AI coated his words in the sweet substance, facing her behind the opposite counter as he splayed his fingers along it to show he could lunge over it if he had to. If she pushed him to it.- Baby, sweetheart–of mine…-A dead croon followed the rest.- Enough. Alright? Daddy needs to get back to work. I mean, what kind of asshole would he be if he let something happen to you? What if he’s not there when Hyperion decides you aren’t worth the investment and cuts you off? -Words a snarl of static, he braced himself against the counter.- Oh, baby– d͔̖o̬̲̻̱͎̱̝n͈͖͓'͈̬̯̼̰t̯͎ ̘̪̯͓̖̞m̯̞̻̭̬͚̥a͔̲̦͙k͉̳͖e̠͓͔ ̱͇͉̟͎̳ͅm̫e͎ ̱̝̯̞͔̣s͖a͓͓͉͖͈̻̣y̜̝̬̩͉̭̰ ̫̖i̖̝t̯̫ a͚͉̳̲̙̖͍g̳͔̠̫̤̖̯ai̲̥͙̗n͖.

Angel has watched the mercurial shift in him for so long, she knows it like a part of herself. Had memorized it out of necessity. Here, it’s an echo of what once was. The soft pauses, the softer words, that hide the edge have no footholds for purchase. Scrabbling at the walls or wailing to the stars, they’ll hold intact for as long as she does. A spark, energy, pure and raw that keeps this space from collapsing in. And Jack from getting out.

That’s what he wants, after all. The spin from familiar tone of the father he isn’t to the vague undertone of blame -- her fault the employees will die, her fault any of this had to happen. Her, her, her. No. That Angel had understood, too, on her last breaths. He’d say anything, crush everything, to achieve what he wants.

But Jack can’t. Not anymore.

As motionless and silent as the stars, she watches. Waits. More alert when all the fury drains, narrows down to that one point that, in turn, focuses on her. The vaulted window casts her in deep shadows, the faint ebb of her tattoos a moonlight beacon. There is nothing he can say to her, no deal he can strike; of anyone left out there, she knows him in a way that she doubts Jack knows himself.

“This isn’t about me. It never has been. The world has moved on. You’re out of time. We both are.”

He doesn’t know. Doesn’t remember. Angel wonders if it would change anything, mean anything. Perhaps that’s an answer that doesn’t need voicing.

“I call this place the Reliquary. It’s a crossroads, a nexus of information. It exists in both the physical world and... where we are now.”

An existence she doesn’t understand, even for the nature of her powers.

“I’m able to maintain its secrecy and security. Say what you will, Jack. You need my cooperation to establish a connection with Helios. I can’t let that happen.“ Can’t. Won’t. They’re the same.

#{ open post }#{ can turn into something bigger if anyone feels up to it }#{ verse? totally flexible }#{ also down to plot other things }

“Allow me. I can open that for you.”

hackingpandora

controlcoreguardian

“Hey, you’re that voice thing-y that helps people sometimes. Am I… am I going to be one of those people?”

#hackingpandora #▹ v: flux

“Good. You’ve heard of me -- sort of. The locals used to call me the Guardian Angel. I didn’t mean to startle you, friend.”

“I’ve been monitoring this location for some time. You won’t be able to access it without my assistance.”

The Reliquary

-And to think he’d almost made it. No–he had. He was there, back on Helios. So what if he was stuffed into the sausage skin of a chicken-legged employee’s mind for what felt like the majority of whatever form of life he’d found himself inhabiting for much of their capers down on dirty old Pandora? He’d finally made it back. And Hyperion were apparently up to their gams on retrieving the quick and dirty on his file–one lost among many others floating helter skelter in a mass sea of gigabytes courtesy of a certain code-monkey with too many kodak moments junking up his drive.

When they came for him, he was sealed up tight–at first, vaguely aware of his surroundings–the entire base at his fingertips. It had almost left him dizzy, the sudden extraction, when the limits of anchored bodies didn’t apply. Which normally he wouldn’t have minded anyway if said body had been his to control from the start. He couldn’t even begin to think about what happened to that Dum Dum who brought him here, much less care about him whining over his sock while stuck in the gray transition between the ech0 signal and the awaiting magnetism of a new port. One with arms and legs and, god–hands. Real, honest to god, mechanical, strangling hands. It was all in his reach.

Except it wasn’t. If Hyperion had known how vulnerable his signal really was outside of the kid’s security system, maybe they would have exercised more caution. Hell, if he’d known, he would have clung on to the very last second before the transfer was complete. But he hadn’t. And he was falling–fast. Caught in a nightmare where the ground never caught him, never shattered him–only forced him farther into an inky darkness. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before the stars blinked on around him, coloring the coal surroundings in soft, purple bursts. Slowly, they formed a room around the sharp drop in his stomach before he realized he was on his feet and not flailing desperately for a handhold, and several etched ways to claw himself back up carved stone by blister-inducing stone. His head jerked with momentary whiplash as he stared wildly around the room, accusing every fixture.- No--no, no, no, NO! This isn’t…right. -The dawning that the moment he’d literally held in his grasp mere seconds ago was absolutely gone came in short bursts of high energy that shook the cube-constructed walls from the sheer amplitude of his exhale.-

Let me out! FREAKIN’, LET ME OUT– L̥̻ E̬̺̪̝̫ T̼̹͎̗̲͕̼ ̥͉̘̜͈ͅ ̩͖͈̮ M̳ ͓͍̬̣̳͖E̤͉̗͉͉ ̱ ̻̯̰͓͍ͅ ͖̬̜͕̻͙O̫̣ ̥̣͎U̠̤̤ ̬̖̗̟T̯̱̫̖͕̯ ̜̳ ̟̦̙̱͓̖̳!̝̫͎

-The walls shivered as his shoulders struggled under each sharp expulsion that followed the snarled outburst, shuddering along with him as he stalked around the enclosure, wild-eyed and trapped. Soon, he was soothed to silence like death, and resurrected by a soft tremor behind him.-

A҉̺͈̦ ṉ̮̤̘̻͕̝ g͓͙̲ ḙ̷̙͎͇̖̤ l̢̹̮̩̯̦ –?̸̳͕̪̘̱

-He wheeled around, eyeing her with something of mixed relief and a frantic annoyance.- Just what the hell do you think you’re doing? I mean, I know I haven’t visited in a while, but shit–now is really not the time to scramble my goddamned signal! Whatever. Now be a good girl and beam daddy back up to Helios.

It isn’t a fall to her senses so much as it is a relocation of particles, data rearranged and resent. Energy harnessed. Angel sees even now that the disorientation is momentary, blown away like mist on a morning breeze. The shape of his posture, the tone of his voice, are familiar warnings that go unheeded. Angel has no need to steel herself against them anymore; she had relinquished that fear when she had made the decision to assist the Vault Hunters a year ago.

To journey the vast spaces no one else could, how no one else could, untethered and under her own will. A brain the size of a planet, Jack had once told her, and it had been difficult to understand, even so, the scope of what lay hidden in the obscure corners of rock and the lowest thresholds of valleys, the stolen moments of humanity thriving in the quiet of a small town or a slow train that Hyperion would have snuffed out utterly.

Could Pandora survive that? Would a single planet be enough?

The haze of starlight rises to meet her feet half way, rippling like waves. Bare feet feel it as sturdy as any touch, as cool as any surface. Tangible, whether through her abilities or their state of awareness, she can never say.

“Making sure their hard work isn’t undone.” The Vault Hunters. Her... friends, maybe the only she had ever had. “You can’t go back. I’m sorry.”

She isn’t; she is the calm before and after his storm, unbent by his fury.

The Reliquary

cyanopsiia

A web through distance, through stars, through darkness she’s never seen outside of her mind’s eyes. The signal plucks at it like something snared, beating wings to break free. Angel does not intervene at first; instead, she watches.

Glimpses of a suited man, a caravan, lost facilities and bloodshed. It should be as mundane as the rest of the populace, no different than the last person to carve out something better for themselves than they had the day before, but what echoes back to her is not that.

It is hidden purpose, a flux of power tightly leashed, and the opportunity to be what it once was. It is the impatient, maddening hum of more, more, more, the taste of a finality so near.

Not something snared. The spider who had built the web in the first place.

She’d lived under it, once. She’d recognize it anywhere.

When that signal returns to Helios, she knows she can stand by no longer.

Spite isn’t what she harbors when the station’s powers flood with something else. The engineers whose memories stretch back that far say it can’t be, a ghost of a machine, destroyed in a siege laid over a year ago, but there is no stopping the transfer. Helios is unraveled only long enough for that signal to be severed; the husk that is meant to be Handsome Jack renewed rings empty, a mess of sparks and smoke.

Further into the web, there is stillness at the center Angel, what remains of her, maintains for herself. It is a shell of a home, half realized skylines and star fields, more shadows than light, but her silhouette casts solid, almost real.

“It’s out of your hands. Let them go.” Pandora. Hyperion. The Vaults. None of it is his anymore. None of it ever should have been.

Gonna be updating my hella old information on this blog and revamping. Stay tuned.

#▹out of phase ( ooc )

callmemace-blog

[RECOVERED] Hyperion Surveillance Log

callmemace-blog

"That’s… reassuring, I guess." He pauses to lean against the canyon wall, shaking out the sand that is already building in his boots and clothes.

In the distance, he could see the silhouette of what looked like a large ‘L’, against the horizon. The canyon gave way to a large expanse of sand and dunes, and there was the sound of engines in the distance.

"What’s this Ellie like?" Suddenly trekking across a desert to see an unknown person wasn’t such a good idea.