host and harbor

reality is a fine flesh, oh general ours. let us feast of it. xivu arath, affiliated with aldebaran.

[knightmorph-blog]

ofdahliasandroses‌:

Juno laughs and hums himself, thoughtful, then says, “Um… Sure. I don’t think there’s chocolate in this.” He lifts it and cradles it in his hands, feeling, then says, “It’s warm. I don’t think eggs get warm on their own unless there’s something living in them.” He considers, then stands, grabbing some blankets and swaddling the eggs in them. “I think eggs need, like… incubation? Uh.” He moves over to the inner wall of the room, where heat rises from the small vents in a corner, and mumbles, “Good enough, I guess,” tucking it in atop the vent. “Don’t die on me, little fella.”

Returning to the bed, he sits down, then sighs. “Yeah? That’s kind of terrifying, but I’m glad you you got it back. I’d give a lot for my pistol right now, not… not that it would do me much good.”

He falls silent, curling his legs up onto the bed and leaning back against the wall, letting his head fall back so he can stare at the ceiling. It takes, for some reason, a lot of nerve to finally say, “… I died the other day.” He pauses again, then laughs, rough and awkward and unhappy, and says, “Radiation poisoning finally got to me. Sucked. Went out choking on my own lungs. And then I woke up again. So I guess you don’t get to stay dead, here. And for me, that’s just… it’s weird.”

He leans forward over his knees, continues. “And then I died again. Some guy got me over in Crises, in one of the libraries. Fucked me up something good.” He doesn’t want to remember that too closely. “Anyways. I don’t think I like it, the whole coming back thing. Glad as I am to be alive… I mean. I can still feel my bones creaking when I move too fast, so being brought back obviously didn’t fix me. So now I’m alive again but I, what, I get to live out the next few weeks slowly dying like that again?”

He takes a deep breath, voice having gotten a little thick- just with regular tears, though, not with impending coughing. Good.

“Just sucks,” he mumbles, subdued. “Does coming back suck for you, too? You said… you’ve died a lot.”

OH, you say, when the line falls silent. And then oh, a lot quieter, flopping down onto your side so you can stare at the little lit-up screen of your phone. HOW HAVE YOU GOTTEN YOURSELF INTO SO MUCH TROUBLE ALREADY. YOU SHOULD HIRE A BODYGUARD. OR I WILL JUST STRAP YOU TO MY CHEST AND ANYTHING THAT WANTS TO KILL YOU HAS TO GO THROUGH ME, FIRST.

It sounds hollow, even to you. There’s something about the quiet of a phonecall, the distance between the two of you, that makes your habit of jokey practicality fall flat. You find yourself wishing that you could fold Juno up in another hug, because that seemed to fix things last time, and you haven’t yet learned enough about humans to know that it won’t always work.

COMING BACK FOR ME TOOK A LOT LONGER THAN IT HAS FOR YOU, you answer eventually. Your face is pressed into the pillow by this point, so it all comes out a little muffled, but your voice is loud enough that it doesn’t really matter. HUNDREDS OF YEARS. I WOULD JUST SIT THERE AND REMEMBER HOW TO BE A PERSON AND THE UNIVERSE WOULD GO ON LIKE ALWAYS. SO YES, I THINK IT SUCKED.

If you die here, will it take hundreds of years? If your worm gets sick of waiting and chews you to bits, will you be back in time for dinner? Will everything be gone? Will Juno be gone? Will you be alone, no fleet, no family, no friend?

do you want me to come over, you ask very quietly into clean white linen and polyester filling. And maybe the question is a little bit for you, too.

[knightmorph-blog]

ofdahliasandroses‌:

Juno laughs, already having to hold the phone away from his ear, her booming voice as loud and clear as if she were on speakerphone herself. He hums and lets it drop onto the bed, then when the screen lights up, he carefully starts clicking around, before he says, “Pull it away from your, uh, ear, and when the screen lights up, hit the circle that looks like a weird triangle with lines coming out of it. I’ll wait.”

And he does wait, patient, feeling some of the tension that’s been haunting him melt away. It’s amazing. If you had asked him two and a half weeks ago what would make him relax, he would have said a coffin, not a nine foot tall alien warrior with a penchant for threats and a total lack of understanding of humans. He gets the feeling ‘relaxed’ is probably not what his instinctive reaction to her should be, but… Well.

When the sound quality changes, just a little, he says, “Oh- there, I think- you got it? It sounds like it on this end. Hey, you didn’t get any weird, uh, eggs, did you? Because there’s one in my room and I’m really not sure where it came from.”

OH. YES. GOT IT. THANK YOU. You end up with the phone lying on your pillow and you sitting on the other end of the bed, as far as you can get without having to sit on the floor, because as far as you can tell human eardrums are very fragile and you don’t want to do any lasting damage. 

NOPE, NO EGGS HERE. WELL I THINK THERE ARE SOME IN THE REFRIGERATOR IF THAT IS WHAT YOU MEAN. You kick your feet, scuff your heels against the carpet, hum a little. MAYBE IT IS THE HUMAN HOLIDAY OF ‘EASTER’, AND THE EGG IS FILLED WITH CHOCOLATE. Your tone is matter-of-fact, well informed, but you can pretty much guarantee Juno won’t believe you know a thing about Easter.

Because you don’t. What’s with the eggs? Why is it eggs?

THEY DID GIVE ME MY CLEAVER BACK THOUGH WHICH IS PRETTY COOL. I AM FEELING DECIDEDLY ‘CHUFFED’ ABOUT IT. Ignoring the fact that it’s sitting on your desk on the other side of the room, very far out of reach; ignoring the fact that you are itching and burning to really use it on something (someone). Ah, well. At least you have some kind of weapon with you now. You can make good on the whole ‘mightiest warrior in the universe’ thing if you need to.

[knightmorph-blog]

ofdahliasandroses‌:

Normal people, Juno remembers as he wakes with a start, talk to their friends when they’re having a hard time.

What prompted that revelation is nearly impossible to say. Might have had to do with his dreams, which have gotten more and more vivid with every thing that’s happened to him here. Might have been the crushing sense of loneliness he felt while he was falling asleep last night. Might have just been luck on his part, synapses in his brain firing in just the right sequence to make that sudden connection. Doesn’t matter, in the end- what matters is that the connection was made.

And he only has one person he’d truly consider a friend, in this place.

He grabs for his holophone, flicks through his contacts, with a twinge of guilt that he definitely could have figured this shit out earlier if he wasn’t so used to making Rita do it for him. He probably could have figured out computers and the higher-end tech stuff at home, too. He was taking advantage of her, this whole time-

Oh, damnit, enough of that.

He finds Xivu Arath’s name and sets the holophone to dial, eyes catching on the medium-sized egg sitting on the bedside table. Weird… where’d that come from?

He’s still examining it curiously when the ringing stops and there’s a click on the other end, and he hesitates before going, “Hey, Rosie. You busy?”

Holophones are more than a little difficult to use when your hands are huge and clawed, it turns out. It rings for a long while; not because you’re reluctant to answer, just because you can’t figure out the right angle to tap the screen where it’ll recognise the heat of your fingertip rather than the shell of your carapace-gauntlet. You want to answer more than you want anything else, really.

(This is maybe because you think you are dying, and you are trying to distract yourself from it.)

When you eventually manage to hit the answer button, you have to cradle the phone in your palm and tilt your head right over to hear the little voice resonating out of the device. Hey, Rosie, and it’s so weird how those two words make you want to chitter and hum in quiet satisfaction, and it’s so weird how you suddenly know what quiet anything feels like.

NO I AM NOT BUSY. I AM NEVER BUSY. THERE IS NOTHING TO DO HERE. You’re being genuine, not bitter. It isn’t a complaint as much as a statement of fact. All you’ve found to do so far is wander and make conversation and wander some more and it’s really wearing on you. HOW ARE YOU. ALSO DO YOU KNOW WHERE THE SPEAKERPHONE BUTTON IS. I AM REALLY EXCITED TO TALK TO YOU BUT THIS THING KEEPS FALLING OUT OF MY HAND.

[knightmorph-blog]

ofdahliasandroses‌:

Woah. Now that’s a hell of a tongue… Cool.

Juno has to shake that thought out of his head, resolutely not flushing at how teenage-stupid he sounds in his own head, and he shifts to sit up a little again, examining her closely as she speaks. Actually… she’s really not that scary-looking anymore, now that he’s spent a while looking at her face. He’s sure that if she went away for a while and then came back, it would give him just as much of a heart attack as it did the first time, but… But.

Her face isn’t so bad.

“Well, it was, uh. Thematic, I guess. We were Duke and Dahlia. I thought it was kind of stupid too, at the time, but…” He shrugs one shoulder, draws a knee up to rest his arms around it, more relaxed than he’s been in a very long time. It makes his chest feel less tight around his lungs, makes him feel less like he’s gurgling when he breathes and speaks, too.

“Ha, well. Glad I can be interesting.” And then he laughs, having to lift his hand to his mouth just in case he spits out any phlegm- he gets the feeling she wouldn’t be nearly as grossed out by it as he would, but just in case- and takes a second to breathe before he says, “Rosie? Yeah, it’s cute as hell. About as cute as it gets. Less, uh. Militant, I guess, than ‘Xivu Arath’. You want me to call you that?”

He could. Names are just labels. If she wants to be a Rosie, who’s to say she’s not allowed?

“What about me? If I weren’t a ‘Juno’, what name do you think would suit me?” He used to play this game with Benten all the time. Somehow, that thought doesn’t hurt as much as it might have a few hours ago.

OH. YOU CAN IF YOU WANT TO, you say, strangely uncertain. Like you said, name changes aren’t really a big deal in Hive society, but--they’re usually preceded by some huge life event. Taking a morph from the worm gods, in the case of you or your sisters, or ascending to a new level of kinghood, as was the extra-special case for Oryx-who-was-Auryx-who-was-Aurash. Plus the names usually have some relation to your old name. Rosie is just Rosie.

You’re dithering, and it’s pissing you off. Dithering isn’t something you’ve ever done before, and you decide it isn’t something you ever want to do again. This is an issue you can come back to later, when you’ve met more humans you don’t actually want to scare away.

The question has you at a bit of a disadvantage. You know a few human names, which you’ve picked up from films and a couple of short stories you found that had been translated into Hive script, but the bulk of your expertise is with names that are decidedly more alien, and something tells you Juno wouldn’t like being renamed to something like Haarthûn. It takes you a while, then, to come up with something.

MARIGOLD, you answer eventually, OR JUNIPER. OR CHRYSANTHEMUM. BECAUSE I THINK IT WOULD BE NICE IF WE MATCHED. And when you smile at Juno again you take great pains to make sure it doesn’t look too ghoulish.

[knightmorph-blog]

certifiicus‌:

well.

she supposes that even this sort of being pales in the face of others she’s seen. but it’s still a bit jarring.

massive, muscled, insectoid. surely she fits better among the denizens of crises than vira herself; a delicate woman ( in appearance, anyways ) plucked straight from the pages of a storybook, unwelcome in such a claustrophobic mousetrap of a place. 

she can feel eyes on her, even when she cannot see them; she’s not embarrassed, but rather, intrigued. the locals hide not from fear, but from a desire to enact playful trickery, she thinks –

– not that she appreciates it. 

the one before her, however, does not hide. similar in appearance to some of the denizens, but with an entirely different air.

maybe they are not as in their element as she first thought. maybe she and they are unified in their unfamiliarity with this sea.

so, she guesses, there’s nothing to lose. a shot in the dark is her best bet at appearing nonthreatening and perhaps gaining information. ( there’s a lot to lose, really, but it is helpful to think that there isn’t. )

“ excuse me. would you be so kind as to walk with me? I would be grateful for a sort of… companion – you see, I am rather… out of my depth, here. ”

@knightmorph

This is your first time outside of Mare Tranquillitatis, and so far you are not having a fantastic time. The denizens you have met, stalking around the streets of Crises and generally looking to be in a foul mood, have all been wretched and skittering and completely insolent. You can’t believe you ever thought humans were bad. These things are worse. Thralls with furballs.

Thralls are better, actually. At least any thrall worth its salt knows its place in the hierarchy. These things--ugh.

Maybe that’s why your response to the little voice at your side is anything other than aggressive and hostile. These rats are driving you quite mad, to the point where a human is a godsend--a human! imagine! So: you hear it out, despite yourself. A companion. That seems like a task with a very low potential for public humiliation. Why not?

SURE. IT IS EITHER THAT OR I GO AROUND AND TEAR THIS PLACE TO BITS. WHICH I DO NOT THINK WOULD GO WELL FOR ANYONE. You cock your head to the side, look down down down at the human. This one looks different to the others you’ve met. Longer hair. It’s hair, right? Plumage? An impressively well-kept mane? (You don’t have hair. No Hive do. It’s all very mysterious to you.)

THAT WAS A YES BY THE WAY. You gesture, a little impatient, at the road ahead. LEAD ON.

[knightmorph-blog]

petitmafioso‌:

He got over that bear issue eventually. Not that he accepted them, or thought it was anything natural. Chuuya just let them be. If he needed something, then he would talk to them. Otherwise, it was better to pretend they did not exist. Much like one of the stupid games Dazai used to play and forced Chuuya to join in, only to ditch the game the moment he finally got into it. 

The memory made his good mood disappear immediately, replaced by bitter rage. It has been years, but the constant mockery made his life a living hell. And he could not even say it was different now! The only person he actually knew in this godforsaken place was exactly the one person he did not want to see ever again.

And now they had to work together. Again. He was about to go to the train station when a loud, booming voice made him stop abruptly. Something about a fight…?

Better than his plans for the day. Dazai could rot in his shitty room for all he cared.

“Hey.”

There was a better way of working all that stress that had been building up ever since he got there.

“Why don’t you fight things more interesting? These guys never talk back. See? It’s apologizing for making you angry. That won’t do. You should pick a fight with someone who is willing.”

The fact that Xivu was almost three meters tall did not seem to bother Chuuya. It made it better, actually. Even with his powers restricted, there were a lot of things he could still do. 

You’re so hungry, itching down to your core, that when you hear someone call out to you and you whirl around to face them it’s with a feral look in your posture. A hunting beast caught off guard, but no less dangerous for it. Another human. Of course. It’s always them, always irreverent, always curiously fearless. You’re beginning to get just a little bit sick of them and their pleasant tones and smiling faces.

SOMEONE WILLING, you repeat slowly, the bears you were trying to coerce already forgotten. Is it talking about itself? Is it really that foolish? You laugh, despite yourself, despite the mood you’re in. Sure. A human, no armor, no weapon, squaring up to fight a Hive knight. Why not. At least it’ll be quick--it won’t have to feel much pain.

IF YOU THINK YOU STAND A CHANCE IN THE DEEP OF DEFEATING ME. I WOULD BE HAPPY TO ‘PICK A FIGHT’ WITH YOU. A willing challenger, no coercion needed. It’s like being back home.

[knightmorph-blog]

treasureheist‌:

“Yeah, we’re roommates.” The beef curry thing is kind of tragic. It makes sense that there isn’t beef curry in space, because there realistically should not be cows in space, but the idea of being an alien and not knowing how it feels to come home to a steaming plate of curry and feeling welcomed by it is… a bummer. Akira only learned it himself recently, and though it still feels ephemeral, it’s nice.

Well. There’s no need to get emotional about it. Aliens probably have their own comfort food. If the markets here have space ingredients he can learn how to make some of it, eventually.

“I’m Akira.” He flashes her a brief smile as he turns to dig the the curry and beef out of the fridge. “You seem good yourself. Have you been here long?”

You sneak a look into the fridge when Akira opens the door, trying to figure out what sort of things your kitchen is stocked with, but none of the things on the shelf look even the slightest bit familiar to you. It makes sense--you would have been more horrified than impressed if they’d gone to Fundament to harvest the wretched, toxic produce some of the other courts grew--but it still makes you frown, ever so slightly. This place really does just cater to humans, huh.

I AM XIVU ARATH. IT IS NICE TO MEET YOU. It doesn’t sound completely sincere when you say it, but that’s probably fine. You’re still getting used to pleasantries. OH. I AM VERY NEW HERE. I WAS WITH MY FLEET A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO AND THEN. ‘POOF’. HERE I AM SURROUNDED BY A BUNCH OF HAIRY LARVAE. You shuffle your feet a little, hunch your shoulders. NO OFFENSE. I AM SURE YOU WILL LOOK LOVELY WHEN YOU FINISH METAMORPHOSIS.

[knightmorph-blog]

alamhiganpunchmachine‌:

So the thing is that being caught by huge, hard hands doesn’t hurt that much less than being caught by the ground. Being thereafter dropped still sucks too, it turns out. On the upside, the momentary stillness gives Yda the time she needs to orient herself, and she lands on her feet, knees bending and one hand touching the ground to help her keep her balance before she pops right back up, brushing herself off and checking herself for blood or tears in her clothing briefly.

Probably scraped her knee a little on the edge of her own greaves, but that’s no problem. Her knees are more scar than smooth skin by this point anyways.

Then she looks up. And up. And wow! She half-skips a step back, to better see the… person? person standing in front of her in full, and she cocks her head, then grins, that grin in her voice too as she stretches her arms out in front of her with her fingers interlocked.

“Wow! Thanks for that. Probably should have been a little more careful up there.” She laughs at herself, then drops her arms, letting them swing wide before propping her hands on her hips and saying, “Xivu Arath, was it? I owe you. I’m Yda, Yda Hext. Sorry about that whole,” She lifts a hand and waves it in front of her face, “plummeting at you from above, thing. I was trying to get to the top to see what’s out there, but I guess my body hasn’t quite adjusted to being alive again yet!”

Oh, this human has a lot more energy than the ones you’ve met so far. It’s doing the same thing all the others have done, which is be decidedly not scared of you in any way, but at least this one is taking a solid moment to appraise you, and you find yourself subtly striking a fearsome stance when it skips back to get a better view. Yes, fleshy little sprout, marvel in the glory of a Hive god.

You are absolutely not full of yourself.

YDA. The name feels strange in your mouth, and it comes out a little weird through the translation, whatever technology this place has parsing Hive syllables in a frustratingly inept way. Oh, well. Good enough. IT IS NICE TO MEET YOU. PLEASE BE CAREFUL NEXT TIME. THE GROUND IS NOT VERY FORGIVING TO FLIMSY HUMAN BODIES. You cross your arms over your chest, appraising Yda in silence for a moment. MAYBE I COULD JUST THROW YOU. YOU ARE SMALL AND I AM VERY MUSCULAR UNDER ALL THIS CHITIN. I AM SURE THAT IF I USED ENOUGH STRENGTH YOU WOULD GO PRETTY HIGH.

That’s probably not safe. But it’d be fun.

[knightmorph-blog]

iustise‌:

Just… sitting there. Alright. Akechi will go ahead and continue the conversation as if nothing weird was happening. Perhaps the strangeness of the world of the adults prepared him for this almost-three-meters-tall alien offering the seat by her side. It was an exaggeration, but the Metaverse had given him stranger days. Nothing would be gained by him being impolite right now.

“You do not mind, then?”

As the doors closed behind him, he approached Xivu and sat almost by his side. Minding her personal space, of course. Akechi did not want to annoy something that could easily crush him, not when he had no way to immediately defend himself. Starting a conversation with other people was easy enough, but right now… he went through the possible topics. Food was not something he would like to try, on the unpleasant surprise that this gigantic alien preferred human meat. And it should not be something invasive. 

He could relate to just wanting to sit and watch the window for hours on a moving train, though. It helped him clear his mind. Maybe that, then? He kept the polite tone, ignoring how weird this whole situation was. 

But hell, would he take that over what he had before. 

“Thank you for the suggestion. I assumed we would just get some kind of ads plastered on the windows or even some fabrication of ‘how it would be outside’, but to just be allowed to see the universe like that… it is a bit overwhelming.”

He smiled, gesturing to the multitude of stars they could both see right outside. It was a big thing that he would not exactly be happy on taking for granted. If anything, it allowed for some much-needed introspection. Even if those never really ended well.

“But maybe it can be more usual for you than it is for me. The stars, I mean.” 

It’s never going to stop throwing you off, being able to compare yourself to a human. Sitting next to you like this, the human looks so tiny (because it is, of course), and you feel like if this train took a corner too fast and sent you tumbling you’d crush it in an instant. At least your worm would be happy with that, even if ‘freak space-train accidents’ don’t really count as glorious combat.

YOU WILL GET USED TO IT VERY QUICKLY. ALL STARS LOOK THE SAME. EVEN WHEN YOU ARE THIS CLOSE TO THEM. You jerk your head, gesturing behind you at the overbright face of the star you are orbiting. SOME ARE BIG AND SOME ARE SMALL AND SOME ARE EXPLODING EVERYWHERE AND LIABLE TO DESTROY YOUR WHOLE FLEET IF YOU STRAY TOO CLOSE. BUT THEY ARE ALL JUST BURNING GAS. AND THAT GETS VERY BORING VERY FAST.

You shift the littlest bit to the side, giving the human another inch or two of room so it doesn’t look quite so much like you’re menacing it. To be fair, you’re not menacing it. You just sort of have that look about you.

ARE YOU FROM EARTH. MARS. WHEREVER ELSE THEY HAVE HUMANS. VENUS MAYBE. CAN YOU NOT SEE THE STARS WHERE YOU CAME FROM. SURELY THEY LOOK THE SAME THERE AS THEY DO HERE.

[knightmorph-blog]

ofdahliasandroses‌:

“Too much,” Juno says- “My dress cost like. Three years’ full time wages worth of creds. Though I’m pretty sure suits are still cheaper overall. You’ve, uh. You’ve got a lot of area to cover, though.” He’s smiling a little despite himself, and he lets his head rest back against the cushion of the chair, rubbing his chest absently, as he speaks. His lungs are handling this all alright so far, but he hasn’t gone that long without coughing in a bit, and he wants it to stay this way. He’s enjoying not feeling like each breath is drowning him.

“I’m just Juno,” he says- then pauses, face twisting, and says, “Well. I had an alias, Dahlia, once. When I worked with my partner. It wasn’t a real name for me, though, and it only lasted about half an hour, and no one else has ever called me that. So… just Juno. I’ve been Juno since I was born, and will be Juno until the day I die.”

He looks up at her, and he realizes… he could consider her a friend, someday, probably. How long has it been, since he’s been a decent enough person to make a friend? Oh, Sasha and Mick stuck around (kind of) because they’d been friends since childhood and Mick is an idiot, and Rita’s just immune to his being a dick, and Jacket… well, who knows about Jacket, but…

Feels nice, to not drive someone off within ten seconds of meeting them.

“Hey,” he says. “Uh. Thanks for listening, by the way. I… appreciate it.”

You give Juno a very long, appraising look, which you have done many times over the course of this discussion, and then stick out your tongue in an expression of distaste. It isn’t a great look. Your tongue is long and spiny. God help whoever's the first person to try and kiss you; they are going to be in for the surprise of their life.

YOU DO NOT LOOK VERY MUCH LIKE A DAHLIA. YOU LOOK A LOT MORE LIKE A JUNO. You cross your arms, nod, decisive. I AM PRETTY SURE DAHLIA IS A NAME FOR CRINKLY OLD WOMEN. NO OFFENSE TO THE YOU OF A WHILE AGO WHO WAS DAHLIA. Maybe you should take a human name. Something that sounds better with ‘Steel’ tacked on the end, maybe--that was a joke--but something a little less scary than XIVU ARATH which has to sort of be yelled at full volume across a battlefield.

Not that you want to not be scary. But if you plan on making more friends here and not immediately alienating everyone around you then you should probably start taking steps.

OF COURSE. LISTENING IS ONE OF MY MANY SKILLS. EXCEPT MOSTLY BEFORE NOW I HAVE JUST HAD TO LISTEN TO REPORTS FROM LESSER HIVE SO THIS IS A LOT MORE INTERESTING. Very excellent work, totally not mentioning how you are having a great time. No one can know. Quick, deflect: HEY IF I TOOK A HUMAN PERSON NAME WHAT DO YOU THINK OF ‘ROSIE’. I THINK IT IS CUTE BUT I AM NOT THE BEST JUDGE OF WHAT CUTE IS.

[resolutevoid-deactivated2018110]

@knightmorph

[knightmorph-blog]

resolutevoid‌:

The result of her jibe was predictable.  It had hardly been her most clever insult, so she didn’t expect much more than irritation.  As far as opening lines went she wasn’t particularly proud of it.  Really, starting out by flinging mud had always been Cayde’s thing, or at least it used to be.  Being forced back down to mortal and subsequently re-empowered and then kidnapped and de-powered again did have a way of skewing one’s emotional responses.  The wise choice was to concede though.  She had not Zavala’s physical might or Cayde’s speed and her brain would only get her so far in a confrontation with a Hive knight.  “I don’t, no.  Not now at least. But given the circumstances I could hardly resist.”

The details of this had her mind racing.  Why grab a revered Guardian and one of her most dangerous enemies and force them into a situation where they couldn’t actually confront each other?  Either whoever started this was experimenting to see if bitter foes could co-exist… or they had a sick sense of humor.  Cayde would probably appreciate it.  Zavala would be frustrated.

“That does beg the question, Hive knight.  For a warrior with such a famed thirst for conquest… you’re not doing an awful lot of conquest.”  Ikora was playing with fire, but she pushed.  There was a theory that needed confirming, even if she did have to anger a God to do it.  “I don’t doubt you could crush any of these creatures bare-handed and have this land infested within a night to feed the worm god.  And yet you haven’t. So where is your army?”

Just in case, Ikora braced herself.  She still had some light, so maybe she would get to test if her Ghost could still bring her back.

The human is talking like it knows anything about you or your gods or anything at all, really, and it’s making you see red. Not that that’s particularly remarkable--again, renowned for your short fuse--but you’ve been doing an excellent job so far of not going on a murderous rampage through this place with no regard for the consequences, so the aggravation is--aggravating.

DO YOU REALLY THINK I NEED AN ARMY TO DO MY DIRTY WORK HERE. You step towards the Guardian, flaring your mandibles and baring your sharp, sharp teeth. DO YOU REALLY THINK I NEED AN ARMY TO DO ANYTHING. THEY DO NOT FOLLOW BECAUSE I RECRUIT THEM. THEY FOLLOW BECAUSE I AM GOD.

This close, you loom over it, like you did with Juno (and you wonder if he’d be particularly mad if you came to him and said you had to smush someone into dust for looking at you wrong). I COULD SNAP YOU LIKE A TWIG. FRAGILE LITTLE LIGHT-BEARER. NOTHING BUT BONE AND MAGIC YOU DO NOT HAVE ANY MORE. That’s a guess, admittedly--but all you can do is bring up your shield for a brief moment of respite, and if this wretched little human had more fighting power than you here, that would be terribly unfair.

OPEN YOUR MOUTH ONE MORE TIME AND I WILL SHOW YOU HOW LITTLE I NEED A FUCKING ARMY.

[knightmorph-blog]

ofdahliasandroses‌:

“No thanks,” Juno says, “I’ve had enough parasites for a lifetime, and I’m uh. I’m not really good with violence. Not even just normal human violence.” He relaxes too, leaning back in a slump against the chair and shifting his legs to stretch out in front of him, letting the tension escape before it starts giving him cramps and twitches.

It’s weird how at ease he feels now. Maybe it’s just hard to be quite as afraid when someone demonstrates both how unlikely they are to deceive you, and how hard they’re making an effort not to hurt you. Even though they really, really could. He almost feels… affectionate, even. Probably? The way he feels about Rita when she’s not wasting his electricity bill watching her daytime dramas in the office instead of working, anyways.

And then he snorts so hard his entire body jolts, and mutters, “Ow,” pressing his hand to his chest before he leans back again. “Yeah, no, it sounds kind of stupid. No worries, I’m not going to, uh, ‘do human marriage to you’. Don’t worry about that. I left my wedding dress at home and everything.” 

He laughs, then, quiet, and says, “I had a… a partner, once, who had way more than three names. Tons of them, in sets of two. He probably had at least ten, probably more. So three isn’t that greedy. But I’ll keep that in mind.” Oh, and thinking about Peter hurts, dampens his humor, drags his voice down a little- but it feels okay, to feel that way, here. Safe.

Saying you have never felt like this towards a human is a gross understatement. You have never felt anything at all towards a human before. Distaste, maybe, or mild irritation when a Guardian shows up all, you know, full of normal red human blood, and tries to get in your way. Certainly nothing positive. Certainly not (mentally putting your hands over your worm’s ears so it can’t hear you think this) fondness.

It doesn’t help that you have never had a friend before. Hive don’t do friends; they do underlings, and complex hierarchies of tribute, and mortal enemies that you will have to kill a thousand times before they leave you alone, also known as sisters. So this is all very new and exciting and kind of making you feel like you’re in the middle of a firefight and the artificial gravity on your ship keeps turning off.

OKAY. PHEW. WHAT A RELIEF. YOU ARE NICE AND ALL BUT I AM NOT READY TO GO THROUGH THE TROUBLE OF FINDING A SUIT THAT FITS ME. You stretch, and sigh, and sit up again, restless despite yourself and struggling to find a way to stay grounded. CAN YOU EVEN IMAGINE HOW MUCH IT WOULD COST.

Your head tips to one side, appraising. TEN PLUS SEEMS A LITTLE EXCESSIVE. EVEN I USED TO GET CONFUSED JUST HAVING TWO. AND I WAS ONLY XI RO FOR ABOUT FIVE YEARS. The adjustment period wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of how long you’ve been alive so far, but it’s still embarrassing to think about. WHAT ABOUT YOU THOUGH. ARE YOU JUST JUNO. OR IS THERE ANOTHER NAME I WILL HAVE TO KEEP AN EAR OUT FOR.

[knightmorph-blog]

ofdahliasandroses‌:

Juno lifts his own arm and scrubs at his face with his sleeve, still shivering a little with the remembrance of grief echoing across his heart, and he doesn’t see Xivu half-reach for him. This is good, because he probably can’t take much more of all of this, the mingled fear of any creature facing something significantly larger than himself and fear that she’s going to say something that’s going to lead to a real breakdown.

Shit, this actual giant fucking bug alien has gotten him to admit to more out loud than… anyone, ever, even back when he was in the HCPD after Benten died and they forced him to see a grief counselor for two days.

“Shit,” he says, raspy- “Yeah, coming from you that is a lot.” He licks his teeth, then clears his throat and drops his arm, eye red-rimmed, bloodshot, and his entire face a little darker with the flush of tears, he’s sure. He puts both hands back in his lap, feeling the throb of a post-cry headache coming on, but feeling… less tense. Less heartachey. Like a tiny sliver of the ball of misery he’s always carried around with him has flaked off and floated away.

“I guess that’s a good way of seeing it. I… didn’t want to live. For a really long time. Still not sure I deserve to, but I’m going to anyways.” And he pauses, then says, lower, “Well. I’m going to try. I guess I don’t really get to decide that anymore.” He watches her flop back, then shifts and nudges her knee (is that a knee? Do…. do aliens have knees?) with his foot and says, “Hey. Is Xivu Arath your full name, or is one of those like… a title?”

Mundane. Stupid. Not what he should probably be asking right now. But he feels like he can, so he does.

IF YOU DO WANT TO DECIDE THAT YOU GET TO LIVE THEN I HAVE A WORM GOD WHO MIGHT BE VERY INTERESTED IN MEETING YOU, you say idly, then bark out a laugh because all the tension is starting to melt away (thank god) and you finally feel like it’s something you’re allowed to do. JUST KIDDING. UNLESS YOU WANT ME TO NOT BE KIDDING. THE OFFER IS ON THE TABLE. But there’s something in you that says that hey, maybe don’t turn this human into another one of you.

Maybe this Juno is fine the way it is. Even if ‘the way it is’ is unfortunately fleshy. And irradiated. And in possession of tear ducts. And, like, really irradiated.

You very nearly kick out when Juno nudges your knee--incredible reflexes, honed over millennia of not getting your ass kicked--but manage to stop just in time, rolling over onto your front instead and pressing your cheek against the carpet.THAT IS MY FULL NAME. NO SURNAME. NOT ARATH COMMA XIVU. WE ONLY GET THE ONE NAME. You pause, make a disgruntled noise. THAT WAS AN OUT AND OUT LIE. SORRY. I USED TO BE CALLED XI RO. ORYX HAS HAD THREE NAMES WHICH HONESTLY IS JUST GREEDY OF HIM.

It’s nice to be able to talk about yourself and mention Xi Ro and not be filled with a sense of crushing--shame, condescension, guilt; there isn’t a single emotion you can pin down. All of them are equally crushing. Okay, time to not think about that any more. WHY. ARE YOU PLANNING TO DO HUMAN MARRIAGE TO ME. BECAUSE I DO NOT THINK ‘XIVU ARATH STEEL’ SOUNDS VERY GOOD.

[knightmorph-blog]

ofdahliasandroses‌:

Juno’s halfway through a snort and on his way to a wry retort when Xivu leans forward, and he flinches, still instinctively frightened, only to freeze when her arms close stiffly around him, not tight enough to hurt but just tight enough to hold him secure. At first he doesn’t really understand what’s happening. Is she… trying to kill him? Is this a prelude to something much, much worse?

But her words empty out his head, and he realizes. He doesn’t quite know what to do with the knowledge, with the action, with this kindness. If it were someone his size who he could reasonably beat in a fair fight, he would probably shove them away, but his arms lay limp at his sides instead, and he wonders how long it’s been, since he’s been held- well and truly held, not just for sex.

That night with Peter was the last time he let anyone touch him like that, he knows, with warmth and comfort, the last time he stood still in anyone’s arms properly. Before that… Mick, an arm slung over his shoulder. It’s been a long time. Rita, jumping at him in excitement. It feels like it’s been even longer since she’s learned only to do that when she really doesn’t care that he’ll snap at her.

… Benten, arm around his waist and hips bumping, laughing. Too long ago. And even before that, Sarah, arms strong and warm and voice gentle, come here, my little monsters, mommy’s sorry, mommy didn’t mean it…

His nose is stinging, distantly, and he realizes with some distant horror that he’s shaking, just a little, just trembling in the circle of Xivu’s arms, and he can taste salt on his lips, which means he’s been crying for a hot minute. At least he’s not gasping and sobbing hysterically, but… it still fills him with shame, and he shifts in her grip, then shudders once, hard, and says, voice rough and nasally with the tears, “U-uh. Thanks. I don’t. Uh. I don’t know what the ‘sword-logic’ is but I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

His arms lift, finally, and he gives her side an awkward pat, just like on her shoulder, then just… leaves his hand there, wondering if she plans to let go any time soon.

Ah. There it is. The sign you’d been waiting for. The little pat on your side, which even you with your minimal understanding of human etiquette can understand means that’s enough, thanks. So you unwrap yourself from around Juno Steel, and settle back into your cross-legged sitting position, trying not to look like you’re watching the human and just failing miserably.

IT IS A COMPLIMENT. IT IS ONE OF THE HIGHEST I CAN GIVE. You lift your hand for a moment, like you’re planning on brushing away Juno’s tears, but then you remember that your hands are very big and very covered in hard chitin and it would be very easy to put its eye out with one wrong move, so you let it drop back into your lap. I AM SAYING YOU ARE STRONG. AND COMING FROM ME. THAT IS SAYING SOMETHING.

You lean back and tilt your head up, staring at the ceiling. THE SWORD-LOGIC SAYS THAT IF YOU DEFEAT OTHERS THEN YOU TAKE THEIR STRENGTH AND GROW FROM IT. IT ALSO SAYS A LOT OF OTHER THINGS BUT THOSE ARE KIND OF ARCANE EVEN FOR US. BUT THE POINT HERE IS THAT IF YOU HAVE DECIDED TO LIVE. THEN YOU ARE ALREADY BETTER THAN ALL THE OTHERS WHO ARE TOO SCARED TO DECIDE THAT. AND YOU ARE GROWING FROM IT. OF COURSE I HAVE NEVER HAD THAT ISSUE, you add hastily, glancing back at the detective to make sure it isn’t getting the wrong idea.

BUT I HAVE HAD TO MAKE A LOT OF VERY HARD DECISIONS IN MY LIFE. NOT THE SAME. BUT SIMILAR. SO I GUESS WHAT I AM SAYING. IS THAT YOU ARE GOING TO BE FINE. And then you let yourself fall back onto the carpet with a soft huff, somehow just absolutely exhausted by the long and arduous process of healthy communication. Who would do this? Is this what humans do all the time? Is this what they do instead of engaging in ritual combat? They should try ritual combat. It takes a lot less out of you.

[knightmorph-blog]

ofdahliasandroses‌:

Juno’s too wound up to be pissed that she walked away- he appreciates it, actually, because he needs to piece himself back together after that particular baring of the soul, before he snaps and says something that forces her to take his head off. Inevitability aside, he doesn’t want to die. So while she has her moment, he has his, drawing his legs up onto the chair and staring at the wall hard until it blurs, not with tears, just because he’s refusing to blink.

And then she’s talking and he tunes back in, and he seems a little like his hackles are going to raise with the rather sarcastic consolation, fingers curling into tight fists where they’re clutched into his sleeves… and then she sinks, and he deflates, eye wide and mouth open until he remembers himself, snapping his mouth closed with an audible click!

Ow.

“H-hey,” he says, and he stands, then frowns and moves over to her slowly, hesitant, and his regret is heavy in his voice. He’s not good at apologizing, either, and it shows as he shifts from foot to foot, then sinks down in front of her and reaches out to pat her shoulder- just once, which is all he can manage from that position because even sitting she’s just so much bigger than him. Then he withdraws his hands, both hands in his lap, legs crossed awkwardly.

“I don’t really want platitudes, okay. I just want you not to tell me how to deal with my issues, just like I’m not gonna tell you how to deal with yours. And I really don’t want you to fight me until I feel better because I’m pretty sure one hit from you would make me dead, and I’m not really into that, right now. Might have tried it a couple months ago, maybe even weeks ago, but I decided I wanted to live, so I’m sticking to that. I’d, uh, appreciate your helping by not murdering me, even if I am an ass, which I know I am.”

He takes a deep breath, then shakes his head and says, “I’ve been ‘feeling bad’ for about 36 years out of 40 now. I’m used to it. You don’t have to fix it- I don’t think it even can be fixed. But it’s, uh. It’s nice. Kinda. To talk about things to someone who isn’t going to pull the pity faces and feel bad about my life being the way it is. Thanks.”

The hand on your shoulder feels nice, which is weird, even if it’s just an awkward little pat. The last time someone laid a kind hand on you was--oh, well, that’s just depressing to think about. Your father, back when you were Xi Ro, almost too long ago to remember. And he lost his mind and got himself murdered, so any memory of his kindness is inherently tainted.

(You blink once, twice, engrave this scene in your memory. You and Juno Steel, sitting on the floor, being nice to each other. Remembering this later will be much more pleasant.)

YOU SHOULD  HAVE A LITTLE MORE FAITH IN YOUR COMBAT ABILITY, you offer, even though you know it is one hundred percent correct in its guess at how the fight would turn out. You could snap it like a twig. You won’t, of course. But you could. MAYBE I WOULD GO EASY ON YOU. AND YOU WOULD ONLY END UP A LITTLE MAIMED. You unfold from your messy slump, cross your legs neatly and lay your hands on your knees. THAT WAS A JOKE. JUST TO BE CLEAR.

And then you figure oh, what the hell--things have been weird so far, there’s really no way to make it that much weirder--and you shuffle forward and loop stiff arms around the human in a hug that, from an outsider’s perspective, looks more like a wrestling move than an embrace. This may or may not be your first hug, but you have seen them on television, and this seems like a good moment for it. DO NOT WORRY, JUNO. EVEN IF I DID PULL THE PITY FACES, YOU WOULD HAVE NO IDEA. BUT I AM GLAD YOU WANT TO LIVE. IF THE SWORD-LOGIC WORKED HERE THAT WOULD AUTOMATICALLY MAKE YOU AN INCREDIBLY POWERFUL WARRIOR.

(When do you stop a hug? When is a hug supposed to end? You’re so confused.)

[resolutevoid-deactivated2018110]

@knightmorph

[knightmorph-blog]

resolutevoid‌:

Ikora had settled in well.  There was an undercurrent of trepidation that remained with her, but for the most part she’d adjusted.  In the process she’d gotten incredibly familiar with the greenhouse in her apartment.  She’d already drew up a framework for cataloguing all the plants.  Ophiuchus had begun to open up to her a bit and they’d begun a back-and-forth to theorize about everything going on.  The ultimate silver lining, though, was the existence of a library nearby.  Ikora spent some time there and even though she recognized none of the titles and they seemed half-nonsense, it was comforting.

It was some time into her reading that she felt a sense of foreboding begin to itch at the back of her mind.  Ophiuchus bolstered this by blinking into existence and anxiously flitting about, as if looking for something.  Ikora ignored it as best she could, determined to finish the book she was reading.  Everything she read seemed… off, as if written by someone rushing out a bunch of books.  The writing got unbelievably strange and nearly incoherent at parts.  Ikora felt like she was starting to notice a pattern when that foreboding crept back into her thoughts.  This time it was unshakeable and she decided to finish later.  Leaving the library, she made the decision to go map out the surrounding area.  Her holophone had its own map and it was useful, but she always did prefer feeling out the area on her own. 

Not much time passed before Ophiuchus came into view and shot off around the corner away from her.  Marking it as strange behavior for the otherwise calm and pensive Ghost, Ikora gave chase.  She didn’t have to follow far though.  Ophiuchus hovered in place, dead silent, 5 feet away.  When Ikora saw what had her Ghost so startled her blood went cold.  Standing down the street was a nine foot tall monstrosity she knew only from legend.  A Hive knight (and a god, if you believed the tales), by name of Xivu Arath. Sister of Oryx, aunt of Crota, both whom Ikora was responsible for helping to murder.

Voidwalkers rarely experienced true fear.  How could they?  When you tore asunder the veil and walked in the void between planes, little could serve to truly frighten you.  Ikora had recently rediscovered fear though.  She may have got her light back after Ghaul was defeated, but with it diminished now it felt all too familiar.  So the prospect of dealing with one of the Hive’s strongest with weakened powers and no fireteam inspired dread.   She forced herself to overcome that though.  Think. Ikora began to work it out in her mind.  Xivu Arath wasn’t attacking.  She had no army.  And though she was shouting and gesturing, Ikora saw no blade.  The Hive knight was every bit as stranded as Ikora. 

Exhaling slowly, she took a step past Ophiuchus and towards Xivu Arath.  Fear would not serve her well and fleeing the problem would only exacerbate it when it inevitably returned.  She would confront it head-on.  It was to be expected of a Vanguard, after all.  So she opened with an insult probably unbecoming of her.

“Is this where the supposedly mighty Xivu Arath fled to get away from her all-powerful elder brother, Oryx?”

Maybe you brought this upon yourself. Maybe it was when you were talking to Juno, and you kept thinking about the bearers of the Light, and how glad you were that none of those uppity astronauts were here with you, lost in space. Maybe it was the time you were musing aloud and said I SURE AM GLAD NOBODY HERE WANTS TO KILL ME, or something to that effect.

You are tending towards desperation, by this point. None of the people you have met in this place really seem that interested in fighting--not for lack of asking. You have not done violence once since you arrived, and your worm is getting terribly restless. Which, you know, is totally fair--it’s used to a constant stream of tribute from rank after rank of Hive under your command and now you’re out here starving it out of nowhere. It has every right to be annoyed.

That doesn’t mean you appreciate it, though.

So that’s what has you out here, in the forest, trying to reason with the bears again. You’re this close to just putting one in a headlock and being done with it. Not a satisfying conclusion, but at this point you’ll take what you can get. You’re in the middle of trying to provoke one of them into action when you hear the quiet chitter of a very small voice and then a voice that you are not familiar with--but it knows your name, and the name of your newly-deceased sister, and you know what that means. Dread settles like lead in the pit of your stomach as you turn.

HA HA. YES. YOU GOT ME. OF COURSE THE MIGHTIEST WARRIOR IN THE UNIVERSE TURNED TAIL AND RAN HERE. FUCK OFF. Not the wittiest retort in your repertoire, but you’re not in the mood for this. Everything is jittery and you’re so hungry and you were never really known for your patience, anyway. I DO NOT THINK YOU WANT TO START WHAT YOU ARE STARTING HERE. HUMAN, you add, spitting it like a slur. God. What you wouldn’t do to meet some humans that knew their place in the universe and which people should not, under any circumstances, be fucked with.

Maybe someday.

[knightmorph-blog]

ofdahliasandroses‌:

Juno’s torn between an unusual sensation of empathy and indignation at being told to get over it. The two distinctly opposed moods have to battle it out, leaving him utterly silent for a while, his one eye trained on one of hers, and he can feel himself closing off, expression going dull and empty -

- which is exactly how it has always gone, isn’t it, until recently -

But then there’s a fire in his chest, drawing his face into a scowl, the same fire that came to him on the chair as the Theia pushed his blood rapidly out of his body, the same fire that whispered, then shouted, I want to live! That fire forces him to draw in a deep breath, even though it makes his lungs give an awkward flutter like they’re thinking about going off again, and then he curls his fingers tight in his own sleeves, opening his mouth, finally.

“Yeah, okay, that sounds real shitty,” he says, with no real air of sympathy. “And I get how that might give you this ‘wow no one deserves to complain about it, because I don’t’ attitude that you’re throwing at me right now. But maybe consider this- I don’t have worms in me that will bring me back when I die, in a year or a month or a week or tomorrow. Neither did any of my family, not even the one who tried to murder me. I don’t have family to come back and try again.”

He takes a deep breath, then says, “And maybe your life just royally sucks, and I am sorry for that. I am, no one should have to live like that. Or maybe what you’re saying is that it’s just your normal, now, I don’t really know. But your life sucking objectively more doesn’t make mine suck any less for me, and you know? I have to say, I don’t really appreciate you telling me to move on, like it’s that easy. It may not seem like a big deal to you, but it’s my entire life.”

And he pauses, then finally looks away and says, less strident, “All that said, I am glad to have that thing out of my head. Sucked.”

You listen, very carefully, very silently to what Juno has to say. You say, HOLD ON. You stand up, and you walk into the greenhouse, and you stare at the seedlings sprouting up from the soil, and then a shudder runs through you and you feel, very briefly, like everything is going to pieces. Like you are going to pieces. Here is the problem: you became a knight on the condition that you would always indulge your true nature, that innate tendency towards violence. And you did, for years and years, over countless lives, through countless wars and genocides, and you got used to it. And Juno Steel--a human--a human!--is speaking to you like you haven’t been spoken to since you were a tiny krill, ten years and done. You are Xivu Arath, and if anyone speaks to you without due reverence you are supposed to kill them. That is how it has always been.

You look at the seedlings. You look at your fist, where your fingers have dug into the chitin there, punctures and spider-lace fissures that will take time to mend. You take a breath, and ignore the itching inside of you, and you go back into the lounge, and you do not kill Juno Steel, which is a good thing for both of you.

I WILL BE HONEST WITH YOU HERE JUNO. I AM NOT GOOD AT SHARING FEELINGS. I HAVE NOT SHARED FEELINGS SINCE BEFORE I WAS XIVU ARATH. TO BE HONEST I KIND OF FORGOT I HAD FEELINGS. I AM VERY NEW TO THIS. The idea of saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t really cross your mind. You’re trying to be patient, not completely overturn your worldview. If you said sorry to this human, and it got back to any of your Hive, you’d be a laughing stock (if your worm didn’t kill you first). And you can handle a lot of things, but you will not tolerate being laughed at.

DO HUMANS PREFER PLATITUDES. HERE. LET ME TRY. You clear your throat, bow your head solemnly. I THINK YOU ARE DONG A VERY GOOD JOB. CONGRATULATIONS ON SURVIVING THE PERILS OF YOUR HELLISH EXISTENCE. WELL DONE. I AM PROUD OF YOU. It sounds sarcastic, in your booming scraping voice, and you cringe visibly at the fact. Is this what feeling bad feels like? It sucks. Whatever the emotion is that you’re feeling, you want to not feel it as soon as possible, because it sucks. You have not been more sure of anything in your life. IF YOU WERE HIVE AND YOU WERE FEELING BAD I WOULD FIGHT YOU UNTIL EITHER YOU FELT BETTER OR ONE OF US WAS DEAD. BUT I DO NOT THINK. THAT IS. A VERY GOOD IDEA.

You sit down all at once--on the floor, not even going back to your chair, just a bundle of limbs on the carpet--and bury your face in your hands. Wow. You suck at this.