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a blog for destiny OCs

[ohreadermine]

[log:rael] 091619

They are setting the new park benches into the pavement when Rael gets one of those chills up his spine, fleeting anxiety stirring in the back part of his mind. His grip on his end of the park bench slips a bit, but Tau holds up the rest of it without falter like some kind of grand Titan-ish metaphor for his life. Maybe something about picking up slack or carrying burdens. Rael would groan at himself but instead he motions for a break, and Tau helps put the park bench down. 

Even though the park bench is right there, Rael sits on the ground, letting his legs splay out over the grass. Tau stands over him, hands in his pockets — got a white shader on and doesn’t want the grass stains — big idiot. Still, he hovers at Rael’s side, expression neutral, but Rael knows he’s worried. That at-ready stance Tau does is a dead giveaway: feet apart, knees unlocked, shoulders loose and hands held at waist height. Prepared to either hold a gun or tackle something or put a friendly arm around someone’s back. 

Rael glances up at the sky. A little overcast and windy, but it’s still a nice day. Aside from the few other Guardians helping around, the park’s already got some kids playing in it. There are older folks around too, and Rael imagines he might look like one of the civilians. He isn’t wearing his cloak today.  His shoulders are light, but even with the familiar weight of the fabric missing, it doesn’t feel bad either.

Tau still wears his mark though.  He’s rarely without it, whether he’s in armor or not. Rael wonders if Tau would be uncomfortable without that heavy drape at his hip. But it suits Tau, and it’s just like him to maintain a Guardian’s self-assured presence even when in casual clothes. 

They used to explore the world together. Him, Eshan, and Tau. Now he’s got Tau doing the City’s community service with him.  Rael draws his knees up and wraps his arms loosely around them. He catches Tau staring at him, and his mouth hitches up to one corner.

“You wanna talk?”

“You look like you wanna say something,” Tau replies, blunt as a shotgun to the chest.

“Hm,” says Rael, like he’s trying to line his rifle at just the right angle. While Tau is blunt, he prefers precision, careful and straight to the point. “Do you ever just… think less of me?” he eventually asks.

Tau’s eyebrows go up. Rael can see him struggle not to quip something sarcastic back. He almost wishes Tau would make a joke of it, but Tau’s always been perceptive of his own fireteam. 

“Sometimes. When you backstab me in Crucible,” Tau says — and, okay, he does go for the sarcastic jab, but it feels refreshingly nostalgic. Rael gets the feeling Tau’s been exceedingly gentle with him since the Red War.  Jokes aside, Tau’s frown is serious. “I can’t be angry when you feel better staying in the City. And I don’t think less of you. Not with this.”

Rael feels the smile on his face twist. He has never known Tau to lie outright, but there is an omission somewhere in his statement. Each month Tau spends less and less of his time in the City, and Rael hopes Tau doesn’t feel obligated to keep coming back when he clearly likes being outside the walls. 

“Ah, well. The Last City is home,” Rael says, sketching a wry salute towards the general direction of the Tower. “I’ve grown to like being in it, but you on the other hand…”

Tau grinds a bit of the grass with the heel of his boot. He’s either restless or nervous, or trying to be tactful about something he's reluctant to say. Rael’s relieved that he can tell that much, and they haven’t grown so far apart after all. 

“I think a lot of us miss things the way they were before the Red War,” Tau finally says. He pauses, looking at Rael, and then kneels down to sit beside him. The grass rustles under his weight. “But there’s no use dwelling when there isn’t anything you can do about it.” A pause. “Can’t bring Eshan back.”

“I know,” Rael says, and likes that hearing Eshan’s name doesn’t hurt like a sharp blade any longer.

“But sometimes it’s not about Eshan.”

“Good thing they aren’t here to hear you say that.”

Tau lets out a bark of laughter. His white shader has grass stains, but he stays put.

They talk for the rest of the morning.

[ohreadermine]

ghost’s ghost

Tadeo & Jaidee: a memory

Jaidee was risen with black hair that slipped around his shoulders and down his spine. Tadeo’s memory bank played the recording over, just to remember it. He had thought Jaidee perfect as he was, but three days in of living, Jaidee had asked to cut his hair.

“It gets in the way,” Jaidee complained, a little tentative. “And it’s heavy when I tie it.”

“You can do whatever you want,” Tadeo said, surprised. “I’m not going to stop you.”

That same minute, Jaidee had scissors against his scalp. He cut the hair short and had Tadeo even out the rest with a precision transmat trick they both came up with.

“That’s better,” Jaidee said, sounding relieved. He shook his head, got a little bit of water from his inventory, and splashed it to style the strands. The cut was a popular look in the City, even though Jaidee hadn’t been there yet. He seemed to fuss about his appearance — his clothes, armor, and even scavenged old shaders off broken weapons to keep for later.

Tadeo hadn’t even mentioned the unspoken fashion war between Hunters and Warlocks. Jaidee just seemed to know.

“Let me scan you. You’ll resurrect with this hairstyle,” Tadeo said. Jaidee had already died twice fighting Hive.

“Wowza — didn’t know you could do that. Thanks!” Jaidee preened, ran his hand through his short hair, making it rakish, but somehow just the right calculated amount of messy. “You think it looks good?”

Tadeo had liked the long hair. It was objectively pretty, but Tadeo knew he was only put out because Jaidee was deviating from his original appearance so soon. It wasn’t as if Tadeo had designed Jaidee himself, and he knew Jaidee only asked for reassurance.

His guardian’s comfort was the higher priority. “It looks good.”

Jaidee beamed. Then ruined it all by putting his helmet back on.

Tadeo stumbles into the washroom of his ship. His leg isn’t working properly, not since taking a plasma shot to the thigh. He’s out of painkillers for now, but he’ll manage. The leg might be bleeding again though. He can’t tell if the dampness is from sweat or blood. It’s hard to tell, even though he knows, factually, blood is more viscous.

Tadeo’s mind fumbles through the steps of troubleshooting why his body is feeling the way it’s feeling.

The HUD of his helmet tells him he’s overheated. It might be sweat.

Humidity levels are up. Stuffy. That’s why he can’t breathe. So he flings off the helmet.

Now he’s got a headache. Something throbs behind his eyes. If only he can pry his brain apart and clean it out.

Tadeo glances at himself in the mirror. Jaidee had taken so much care in his appearance, but Tadeo had cultivated a look of his own; dark circles under his eyes, an expressionless face, and armor that only served to be functional. Unrecognizable. He’s stopped flinching at his reflection months ago.

There’s hair in his face. Tadeo swipes the strands away like he’s done many times before, but his fingers catching at the tangles make him suddenly conscious of the length. It’s grown too long. He’s never cut it before.

Tadeo yanks his fingers free and grunts from the pain. The sounds catches in his throat as he looks in the mirror again. His hair puddles around his shoulders.

For a split second, he sees Jaidee staring back, the flash of an old recording from a memory bank he longer has, can no longer access, because it doesn’t exist anymore.

Tadeo flinches. There’s pressure in his chest, a raw ache that make him struggle to breathe again.

Slow, carefully — he lowers himself, resting his forehead against the cool rim of the sink. It doesn’t help the headache much, but he feels his hair fall forward, draping around his face like a black curtain.

“He was right,” Tadeo mumbles. “It’s heavy.”

[ohreadermine]

Pre-lore for Multimind.

Tadeo showed her the blueprints. He said, “It should be similar to how Exos are able to process several sensory inputs at once.”

Seven-8 paused. Then, pained, she corrected, “No, that’s not how it works for us.”

Tadeo looked up. He hadn’t gotten the hang of his expressions yet. On Jaidee’s face, he only looked bored. “Explain, please.”

“We are only capable of one thought at a time, like the humans we were inspired from.”

For precisely twenty-three seconds, Tadeo did not breathe. There was a flash of disbelief in his eyes and that was all. Seven-8 noticed color darkening his cheeks, much like anger had touched him, or possibly asphyxiation.

“Tadeo,” she warned.

Tadeo suddenly gasped, choked, and gulped in some air. In his shock, he had forgotten to inhale.

“I know, I know,” Seven-8 said while Tadeo got his oxygen saturation back up, “I guess Bray didn’t want a thousand supercomputers with guns running around. Nah, we think the same speed as humans. For the most part.”

Tadeo stared at his unfinished helmet and then at her. “This sets me back.”

His stare was calculating. Seven-8 let her mouth core flash. “Should I be worried?”

“Worry no longer. I had been hoping to dismantle your circuits and fix them into my helmet—”

“Smile when you joke.”

Tadeo obliged her with a smile that was more mechanical than her own facial constructs. It needed work, but it was a good try.

[ohreadermine]

Multiminder (Exotic Warlock Helmet)

USER WARNING: Having too many thoughts may require a force shut down.

Perk: Task Manager 

Run multiple programs at once. End intrusive thoughts.

Tadeo’s new helmet looked like a biohazard. Seven-8 was reluctant to see so many Enhancement Cores go into something so tragically ugly, but she dropped the bundle on the table. At least it wasn’t on her Glimmer or shards.

“That isn’t the finished product is it?” she asked for her peace of mind.

“No.” Tadeo lifted it. It slopped forward in a tangle of gelatinous tubes and wires. Seven-8 felt vaguely sick looking at it. “Perhaps a different shader.”

“It’s not as aerodynamic as it could be,” she said, which was as tactful as she could be about it. “I can help with the silhouette design, if you want. How does it work?”

“It’s mostly Vex technology. The Vex eyes you collected have been programmed into the helmet, which converges several dimensions together to allow me to process multiple threads of thought in my own mind.”

“Many brains. Sounds neat.” Seven-8 watched as he infused the Enhancement Cores. “What’s the drawback?”

“They are minimal,” said Tadeo, putting the helmet on, “But if I faint, please catch me and take me to the medbay.”

[ohreadermine]

EY! EY YOU! ^cough^ I really like reading your stuff. If you have a fanfiction for net, I would love to leave reviews on your work

Hello! Thanks!! I do have an ao3 account HERE, but it’s mostly for in-canon characters. I only post OC stuff on this blog. Sorry about that, but I appreciate that you want to review!! (maybe the reply function via tumblr?)

[ohreadermine]

accidentally stayed up til 4 am reading abt these two goobers I love this I love them I hope u keep doin the lords work <3

OH, thank you so much!! they are very fun to write (and explore the destiny world in, tbh). Thanks for reading, I’m glad you enjoyed them. (AND HOPEFULLY YOU’VE GOTTEN SOME SLEEP BY NOW, HAHA)

[ohreadermine]

[log:virlask] (not) strip poker

Prompt: strip poker (THANKS PARISA) Characters: Virlask/Tau Rating: PG

“We have our own version of this game,” Tau says, eyes glittering from behind his projected screen.

Virlask hunkers down to avoid eye contact, but he catches sight of Tau’s sharp grin anyway. He taps his own screen, selecting his counters and watching them appear on the 3-dimensional board between them. “Strip poker, I’m aware.” He pauses. “And you must be mistaken. It’s not the same at all.”

Tau laughs, an easy sound for someone who is already half naked from the waist up. He leans forward, propping his arm on one knee to hold his chin. Several of his pieces on the board disappear and Virlask’s score ticks upwards by a slight margin. An orange light flashes on Tau’s side.

“Same betting principle,” Tau argues, though his tone mild. He starts unzipping his pants.

A part of Virlask wants to argue that point too, but once Tau stands up to shuck his pants the rest of the way off, Virlask knows it’s not worth the time. There isn’t any fussiness to it either, no teasing moves to prolong it — though for certain Virlask knows Tau is having his fun — just an efficient strip until Tau is only in his short innerwear and mark.

“You could transmat that to my side,” Virlask suggests, finally peering over, and gets a face full of human pants thrown his way. He tugs it off one horn, folding it neatly before setting aside with the rest of Tau’s clothes and armor.

Meanwhile, Tau sits back down on the floor, going back into the same position he had been in, one arm propped over his knee. Without his pants, the pose looks even more self-satisfied, which should not be the case for someone who is losing so badly.

Virlask himself is only missing his secondary talon armor. The rest of his losses are in the form of weapons and food. Players don’t normally put down the literal clothes off their back. Ether rations, breather parts, chores — sensible things to bet away. And Tau is a clever enough player, picking up the rules and basic strategies after a few practice games. It’s only after he’s gotten a good grasp that he’s now manipulating the betting pool, and it’s abundantly clear to Virlask they’re playing a different kind of game now.

So much for cultural exchange. Virlask isn’t sure if Tau is bored or in need of a better challenge.

Tau starts shuffling his game pieces around, brow furrowing. Virlask guesses that it does take some thought to lose on purpose after all. He watches Tau this time, liking the concentrated expression. It doesn't last too long, unfortunately, and Tau is back to smiling.

Virlask eases up, struck by a sudden thought. He keys in a few commands using his secondary hands.

“I thought you were giving me a handicap,” Tau comments, reading the board once more. He types a response, a little slower with his two hands.

“I’m only adding to the betting pool.”

Tau pauses over the new take, frowning when his limited vocabulary can only get him so far. He reads the word aloud, pronunciation passable, and Virlask bares his teeth.

“Servitude,” Virlask clarifies in Human Universal. “I’m betting my will to you, for a day.”

Tau’s head lifts, just by a fraction.

“It’s usually done when some idiot has already lost all their ether,” Virlask continues, leaning back. One of his secondaries furrows into Tau’s folded shirt. “But ether isn’t much of a prize for you. I feel like this is more adequate.”

“I remember this last time you offered me servitude. It wasn’t under the best pretense,” Tau says, cautiously, and Virlask would’ve liked to reach over with all four arms to kiss him for it.

“Trust me. I’m much more willing right now,” Virlask says with a rumble in his chest.

“Well, same here,” Tau replies, his stare full of intent.

Virlask lets out a hissing laugh, watching as Tau starts making the moves to win back his clothes. “If you win.”

And what they play after, is definitely not strip poker.

[knightistry]

Commission of an Eliksni OC called Virlask for @chalcoyong from Twitter!

[ohreadermine]

[log] the arc sword problem

Tau/Virlask - pre-relationship, pre-ketch. The two are still meandering around the cosmodrome Hive-hunting and having big awful crushes on each other.

The rhythm of battle still sings strong in Virlask’s mind, concentrated ether running through his body. His scorch cannon is hot and overheated, but if it breaks firing its last two rockets, Virlask knows it would have been worth it to see two of the five Hive Knights go down. He takes a quick glance around the cavern, assessing, and sees Tau fire the last round of his own rocket launcher into a Witch.

Virlask remembers the last steady three-bursts of pulse rifle ammunition, the staccato of an auto rifle—Tau hasn’t taken the time to reload any of his guns, running them dry one after another. The risk is nearly as great as the reward; he is a constant whirlwind of damage, right until he has no more bullets to fire

There’s a faint irritation Virlask feels, being tuned to the way Tau likes to fight. He knows Tau likes to keep a steady pace, doesn’t matter slow or fast, as long as he’s always in constant motion.

Tau draws back his arm, one last blow into the Witch’s abdomen to finish her off. There is a Knight towards his right. Tau’s hands are empty except for blood.

Virlask doesn’t think. He draws out one of his shock swords before Tau can unholster his gun.

“Tau. At left, sword ready.”

Tau’s comm gives an audio cue of acknowledgement. He puts his back towards the Knight, turning to Virlask, bloodied hand reaching out. Virlask tosses him the shock sword.

“Do you know how to use it?” Virlask asks, even before Tau catches it.

Tau whirls around and cleaves the sword across the Knight’s chest. The angle is odd, but the brute strength behind it causes the Knight to stagger back. Tau’s voice is harsh over Virlask’s channel; “Yes.”

It’s a sufficient answer, along with the proof. Virlask fires the second to last rocket from his scorch cannon. The Knight disintegrates, and Tau doesn’t break rhythm. They continue the fight.

About one more Knight and ten thralls later, it begins to dawn on Virlask that Tau actually does not know how to use a shock sword. Or possibly any other sword for that matter.

A shock sword is a difficult thing to damage. It has very little parts, and Virlask has spared no expense in maintaining his weapons. He receives the rare opportunity of witnessing someone use a blade to bludgeon several Hive to death.

It’s absurd. Almost painful to watch. Virlask doubts his sword will ever be in the same condition.

By the time the last thrall dies, Tau’s hands and armor are dripping with rotted Hive flesh. Calling it a butchering would have been an insult to proper butchers.

Virlask holsters his cannon, ignoring the burn of the barrel against his back, and looks down at Tau, incredulous. “You said you knew how to use a sword.”

Tau has the audacity to look insulted with Virlask’s sword in his hand. “I do.”

Virlask glances around. Most of the Hive bodies could be considered pulpy rather than cut or stabbed. He has seen other guardians with swords. It isn’t a matter of differing styles between their species. “That wasn’t swordwork.”

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” Tau says, handing Virlask back the shock sword. He pauses when the hilt and blade rattles—something even he recognizes a good sword shouldn’t do. “... I broke it, didn’t I?”

Grim, Virlask holds the sword up, eyeing down the blade. Somehow Tau has bent it. The grip feels off as well, all twisted and unbalanced in his hand. Without looking at it, Virlask knows the hilt is cracked. Sparks tingle at his claws, arc core malfunctioning.

“You did,” Virlask confirms. The parts he can salvage into his remaining sword, which may be a small blessing in disguise. Keeping two swords in proper functioning condition has been difficult with his minimal supplies, and it occurs to him that Tau has never offered the means to do so, only because the guardian hadn’t known in the first place, not because he had wanted Virlask to be at a disadvantage.

To his surprise, the well of frustration Virlask has been holding back lessens. He’s still angry, of course. It’s still a waste of a good sword.

Tau ducks his head. “Shit. I’m sorry. It really did help me back there though.”

“I should have thrown you the scorch cannon instead,” Virlask says, trying not to be surprised by the apology. The remark earns him a quiet huff from Tau. A part of Virlask still wants to be furious, but he’s mostly in disbelief. “You have lived for hundreds of years. I thought you would be… proficient with a sword. At minimal.”

“Swords are old tech. Never had the need.”

“Swords don’t need reloading, or ammo,” Virlask says, daring to be critical.

Tau holds up a hand, fingers curling in. “I know. But why bother when fists don’t need reloading either.”

Virlask stares, uncomprehending. He switches to Human Universal to avoid the offensive terms he’d rather say in Eliksni. He can plead ignorance if it comes out insulting in human words. “Fists aren’t true weaponry. You do not have claws.”

“Oh,” Tau says, lowering his hand. “It’s a… titan joke.”

“A bad one,” Virlask concludes, though he is growing used to Tau’s unthinking arrogance that seems to run in most guardians. He also doesn’t mention that Tau should learn how to handle a sword. It isn’t his place, nor his concern. If an undead immortal has chosen to not learn any kind of swordsmanship then Virlask sees no benefit in correcting it. He sheaths the broken shock sword. “Will we continue forward?”

There is a pause while Tau consults with Theta in the privacy of their link. He gives a short nod, reloading all his guns; pulse and auto rifles, rocket launcher, all his motions as even and steady as the shots he takes. “We will. Need any telemetries?”

“There is only the last Ascendant Knight left to find, yes?” Virlask draws out his remaining shock sword, air thurming with arc energy when he activates it. “This is all I will need.”

Even with his helmet on, Tau looks doubtful. A hand to his hip conveys the true depth to his annoyance; Tau seems to be just as irritated. “I don’t need you trying to kill yourself and calling it duty-bound. Again.”

Virlask hisses. He had faltered once, at his lowest point weeks ago. Tau hauling him away from battle had been humiliating, and Virlask doesn’t like the reminder. He has been disgraced enough—crewless, bannerless, and exiled. Yet some old part of his still wants to prove his worth, even if it’s to an undead ghoul. “You underestimate my skill with a sword. I will show you.”

Tau tilts his head to one side in the way Virlask recognizes as taking a moment to translate unfamiliar Eliksni words. To Virlask’s dismay, he realizes he has used the formal honorifics of address, much like how he would have issued a challenge to the Archon Forge to prove his captaincy.

It doesn’t help at all when Tau replies in the worst possible way.

“Then I’ll be watching,” he says. The judgemental weight of his voice makes Virlask feel as if he should be looking up at Tau from the Forge’s pit.

Virlask’s grip over his sword tightens as he points the tip upwards in an ironic salute, though he thinks it might not as mocking as he wants it to be. It’s too late to take it back. Tau seems to not care in any case, turning away to lead them deeper into the Hive cavern. His apathy is both a relief and an annoyance.

Virlask curses, soft within his helmet, and follows.

The Ascendant Knight lies dead on the ground, Virlask’s shock sword through its chest. Virlask pulls it free with little effort, giving the blade a quick flick to shake off the fading tendrils of its essence, and watches as the corpse disappears entirely, back to the Ascendant realm.

Tau has never doubted their success. The Knight is as good as dead from the start, whether he brings it down himself or allows Virlask to do it. He just doesn’t expect a sword to do the job. After all, why bring a knife to a knife party when you can win faster with a gun?

Shooting is often more efficient, but even Tau admits there was something pretty with how Virlask wields his shock sword. Both Eshan and Rael have used swords in the past—all grace and dance and the kind of lightness in their steps that Tau knows he can’t manage. Eshan had tried once to teach him, the memory so far off Tau doesn’t remember why they stopped.

He still remembers how Eshan fought though, and it had been nothing like how Virlask fights. Eshan’s speed had been essential, quick to attack and quick to react. With Virlask, his speed with the blade shows differently, more of a constant driving force, each movement deliberate and patient. There’s a weight behind his arching swings—something Eshan hadn’t shown, only because it hadn’t been needed with their agile reflexes.

Virlask doesn’t dance, not like the Hunters do, but there’s still a rhythm to it, something Tau can follow for once.

Tau reloads his rifles, clips snapping into place in automatic habit. He walks up to Virlask, grabbing one of his secondary forearms. The incoming swing is thoroughly deserved, but Tau blocks it by meeting the blade his left arm guard. The arc shock blows out his shields, alerts flashing through his screen, but Virlask doesn’t follow up with a second hit, only stilling as Tau steps closer.

“Hey. Teach me how to use that shock sword,” Tau says, as if he hasn’t just been hit with one. His shields stop wailing as Theta fixes up the damage. He signals a silent thank you in return. Being a former striker grants him some tolerance to arc energy, but the shock still sends a nasty crackle through his entire body.

Virlask looks down at him, teeth clicking. He draws back, the secondary arm first and then the blade at Tau’s forearm. Tau allows Virlask the space, but not by much. Virlask has a weird habit of being slightly more agreeable within the range of a good punch. Then again, most people are.

“Why?” Virlask asks, wary.

“Why? Because you’re good. I haven’t seen swordwork like yours before,” Tau says and then quickly amends, “Swordwork that I didn’t need to put a stop to. Never got the chance to really watch how Eliksni fight with it.”

Virlask pauses. He sounds incredulous again. “You were actually watching.”

“You were keeping the Ascendant Knight to yourself,” Tau says, half-joking. At Virlask’s extended silence, he frowns. “Should I have helped? I didn’t want to mess you up.”

Virlask uses all four arms to shrug. He sheaths his sword, looking away to adjust the straps with his secondary hands while his primaries seem to be checking the damage at his arm guards. “I defeated the knight with no serious injuries. Your help was not needed.”

Tau blinks. The flurry of movement looks a whole lot like nervous fidgeting. Is Virlask embarrassed? Even while bragging? Tau glances at the arm guards. The spikes are blunted, covered in Hive gore. Pretty banged up. Tau shakes his head, putting out his hands as he does.

“Here. Give me your arm guards and I’ll have Theta repair them,” he says.

Virlask’s eyes narrow. It’s funny how Virlask seems to think that he can’t say no when he obviously wants to. Gives Tau all the smartass comments in the universe, but still manages to follow his lead anyway.

“I’m keeping that Hive cache and glimmer, but I still owe you for taking down the knight,” Tau says, exasperated. He motions for Theta to appear and gestures to the arm guards. “Theta, use the mod package I dismantle earlier. Those should work.”

Virlask hisses again, this time in short bursts. It takes a moment for Tau to realize he’s sputtering. He catches half formed words in Eliksni, all of them protests and then, interestingly, the word ‘inappropriate’ gets thrown into the mix. Tau double checks the translation through Theta and—yes, it’s the right definition.

“Why? Then call it a gift if you’re so uptight about it. And you’re going to teach me how to use a sword,” Tau says, brisk. Virlask has never liked offers so he might has well make them orders, if Virlask insists on being so indebted to him.

Virlask eyes are flickering brightly, almost like a flashing fire alarm. There’s no doubt about his embarrassment now. “Rewards are unnecessary. There must be some kind of basic Eliksni etiquette articles in your human databases—I am asking you to please read them.”

Tau points a finger at Virlask, a mixture of both anger and confusion. “I have read a quarter of the stuff Theta keeps finding on Eliksni culture. And ‘rewards’—?” The exact term Virlask uses is vaguely familiar. There are multiple synonyms in the databases, but the context makes it clear what exactly Virlask is referring to. Inappropriate makes more sense now. “—That honor offering stuff only counts if I’m Eliksni with a Prime Servitor or whatever.”

“Archon or Kell,” Virlask corrects stiffly. “Only if you are an Archon or Kell. And we no longer practice that ritual, not in decades.”

Tau makes an agreeing ‘there you have it’ motion with his hand. “Don’t make this complicated. In my culture, a gift is sometimes just an expression of thanks. Even if I am technically holding you captive.” And then another thought hits him—or maybe because of. Tau frowns at himself.

“Very ethnocentric of you to say,” Virlask fires back, but luckily he sounds mollified.

Tau has to look up the Eliksni meaning of ethnocentric through his HUD, so his response ends up lacking and childish. “I can accuse you of the same thing,” he says in Mandarin.

“Add high-minded and white-eyed as well,” Virlask retorts, also in Mandarin, which is how Tau finds out for the first time that Virlask can speak in other Earth languages other than Human Universal.

Stupid of Virlask to reveal that, but somehow Tau feels like he’s the one who has the disadvantage. He gets to be content with Theta sneaking in a full repair for Virlask’s arm guards though. All that arguing had been good for something.

Virlask inspects the repaired armor, still looking miffed about the whole thing, but at least he’s not complaining about it.

“Thanks,” he says in Human Universal. Nice and informal. None of that Eliksni honor reward bullshit. “I will teach you proper swordsmanship in return.”

Tau finds himself grinning from inside his helmet, pleased and excited. He forces himself to stop and tell Theta to transmat them out. And then he’s back to grinning again when Virlask shimmers away with a startled snarl and back into the ship.

White-eyed stupid, huh? Maybe Virlask had been on the mark with that after all.

[ohreadermine]

KETCH: Zeliks-Syn

Some notes about Virlask’s rather new ketch and the primary ketch crew.

Name: Zeliks-Syn

Freelancer ship, smaller than a ketch that would have been pledged to a House, though it used to be House of Dusk

Had a pretty big crew. Smaller now.

Sometimes struggles with ether supplies but they try to make ends meet.

The previous baron was a lazy asshole. Most of the crew are happy he’s gone. The other part of the crew who aren’t are dead. So.

The general mood of the crew is wary with the new management.

Virlask is generally stressed about being respectable but He Has A Plan about it. He avoids using Tau as a scare tactic because that’s no way to gain a crew’s trust. Because of this, he can be seen as a traditionalist, but without the traditional methods of discipline (ie: docking, amputation).

The crew have mixed opinions on this but are cautiously receptive.

Captains (3)

originally 5 but they dead (thanks tau)

Most had at least 5 vandals each (thanks tau)

Each vandal had 6 dregs

Now at least 3 each. (thanks tau)

Servitor: Zeliks Prime/Pilot

Just wants to stay in its ship and have a crew. Had an adequate working relationship with the previous baron. (could have been better… but..)

Hates Tau, who threatened to kill it to starve the crew which would have lead to the entire crew’s death, unless it severed ties with the previous baron. (Virlask doesn’t know about this.)

A little cold towards Virlask but will warm up. Virlask clearly cares for the well-being of the crew.

Has 6 main segments that are much smaller. Wants to have more to be able to produce more ether for the crew but they don’t currently have the resources. At this time, it’s too proud to accept help from Tau lmao.

Ranks/Personnel

Captain 1 (primary ketch guard/crew)

4 vandals

3 dregs each

Captain 2 (swing shift)

3 vandals

4 dregs each

Captain 3 (primary scouting party)

3 vandals

5 dregs

Captain Belcerix - Primary ketch guard

She used to be a captain for a scouting party. Got promoted when the previous ketch captain was killed by Tau.

Very “cool older sister” type.

Clever, shrewd, and ambitious enough to get where she wants. Luckily she has no interest in being a baron.

She is, actually, a bit lazy. Work hard, relax hard. Everything she puts a whole lot of effort in, it’s so she won’t be bothered by it in the future.

Fair minded when disciplining her crew. Can be a bit of a hardass, but there’s always a reason.

Very independent. Will follow orders but expect her to twist words to suit her needs if the orders are shit. By all accounts she should have stayed as a scouting captain, but Virlask knows her cleverness/diplomacy is a good asset to keep near. Bel doesn’t mind either. Rather likes staying in the ketch.

Bel is a nickname Tau gives her. They are on good terms. She finds him charming, if a bit of a meathead at times. (Much like Virlask, she knows Tau is clever, but his brutality/ruthlessness needs to be reigned in sometimes.)

Baselk (vandal 1)

Belcerix’s second in command: vandal

leery and world weary, older guy.

Echoes Bel’s type of cleverness. You can tell he’s picking up her habits.

He’s experienced some former physical abuse from his previous captain, Fikres. Used to be a low tier vandal.

Used to keep to himself. He’s starting to open up nowadays; his unit is starting to see he has a teasing personality.

Literally expects Tau to murder everyone some day but oh well. That’s life.

Vandal #2 (female)

Friendly.

Enjoys a good gambling game, because she is very good at it.

Rixis (vandal 3)

Try-hard, can be a bit of an ass.

Acts cynical, secretly Big Romantic.

Cherix (vandal 4)

Newest addition to Bel’s unit

Earnest, wants to do a good job.

Still feels a bit guilty for allowing Virlask and Tau to steal the ketch lol

One of those types who’s lived such a miserable life she never knew how bad she had it. Virlask as a baron is a new change and she’s a bit sparkly-eyed over it.

Great instincts, better sniper. If you want it shot, she’ll shoot it.

Tau makes her nervous.

Has an inexplicable crush on Virlask’s best friend, Nurkiks, a captain on Mars [Fish’s OC]. She is a little appalled at herself about it.

Nef (dreg)

Part of Cherix’s cohort.

Probably the smartest Eliksni in the whole fucking ketch and doesn’t want anyone to know.

The only dreg that is genuinely Tau’s friend. He kinda gets a kick out of seeing Tau commit Eliksni social blunders.

Technically a marauder (in the future). Only Virlask, Tau, and Bel would know. Everyone else thinks he’s just a dumb lazy dreg who sleeps in and shows up late to work and gets sick often. He’s fine with it.

Also soooooorta takes orders from Tau when he thinks Virlask is being Too Noble and Stupid. Captain Bel also uses Nef as a go-between when she can’t deliberately disobey orders.

Many eyes, good heart.

He’s happy now. Wasn’t before.

[ohreadermine]

[log:tau] cold

tau/virlask, post-ketch, some fluff and cultural exchange, nsfw (brief mentions only, because... it’s them.)

The guardian comms have been buzzing more than usual and Tau finds himself in the middle of relaying Cabal reports and patrol locations to inquiring fireteams hanging around the Cosmodrome. It’s busy work, but not one he minds at the moment. The Vanguard has been lenient with him lately, almost comically so, and Tau is pretty sure his current whereabouts are filed under ‘Rewards Outweigh Risks’ or ‘We Don’t Have Time To Lecture You About Fraternizing With the Enemy’. A thousand willful guardians is hard to keep track of on any day of the week but at least he still reports back every now and then. There’s no shortage of things to say; the bulk of his reports are made of Red Legion sightings, recent Eliksni politics, and the few Taken Blights he’s come across and subsequently avoided.

Occasionally visiting a small ketch under a bannerless baron is barely a footnote and, all in all, not worth mentioning. The Vanguard never asks just how he knows these things. They probably don’t want to know. Still, Tau is pretty sure he’s landed some kind of Eliksni Specialist position under Cayde’s roster. Ah, well. It’s a minor stress, but nothing too worrying.

Not like he’s going to stop until they officially tell him to. And even then, maybe not.

Tau stops his idle pacing and glances up from his datapad. Virlask’s room onboard the ketch is almost becoming familiar. Not home like the City, or home like his ship, but it’s close enough. Sometimes Virlask will shuffle around the three main pieces of furniture—table, chair, ether tank—or get rid of a wall decoration that had belonged to the previous baron, but over the past few weeks the room mostly remains the same. Minimal but practical.

It seems like Virlask only ever uses it for three things—sleeping, fucking, and keeping Tau hidden so the rest of the crew isn’t pissing out their ether whenever he walks by. By all accounts, it should be Tau’s room with how much time he spends using it as a pseudo-office.

He thinks about unlatching the folding bed from the wall to lay down with the reports, but a muted string of beeping stops him mid-step. A wave of cooler air washes through the room, the smell of sharp pine needles announcing Virlask before he comes around the partition with a dusting of snow at his shoulders and swirling mist at his breath. It’s warmer inside the ketch than outside, but not by much.

Tau is a second away from letting Theta transmat the datapad away, but he’s really got nothing to hide. The datapad stays in his hand. He turns. “How was the hunt?”

Virlask snorts, shaking out stray flakes of snow from his cape. “It was better avoiding the Cabal forces this time around. They were not holding any prisoners, but I will forward you their route.”

“I think you make your captains nervous going on patrols with them,” Tau says, just as his datapad confirms Virlask’s report. He quickly sends it over to a nearby fireteam. They’ll probably be happy with that bit of information.

Virlask makes a dismissive noise, busy with removing his light patrol armor. Along with keeping his usual captain’s ether allotment, he’s mostly ignored wearing a baron’s usual adornments, which involves a lot of tall spikes and bigger horns and much more armor. Tau can’t find it in him to be critical. Virlask just seems happy to be around other Eliksni again, grunt work included.

The datapad finally stops flashing its stream of notifications. Theta transmats it from Tau without appearing, giving a gentle pulse in his mind to warn him. With the datapad gone, Tau rubs his palms together, fingers tingling, and looks up just in time to see Virlask’s scrutinizing four-eyed gaze on him.

“Are you cold?” Virlask asks.

Tau pauses, his small exhale sending a visible wisp into the frigid air.

The truth is, in a word—yes. But dealing with Eliksni has always been on the cold side with their tough exoskeletons. It’s not exactly news to Tau. Having the ketch parked in the Cosmodrome in the middle of winter seems to reinforce the idea that Eliksni don’t have to expend much energy on central heating. Hell, he’s even seen them fight in snowstorm conditions with just their usual armor and bare claws.

“Eh. It’s a little cold for me,” Tau admits. Without his own armor, he can sometimes get by with a couple of extra layers while inside the ketch. In the privacy of Virlask’s quarters, he’s got only one inner thermal wear beneath his usual clothes, just to be comfortable. Much to his chagrin, having Virlask mention the freezing temperature is making Tau acutely aware of it. Too bad he doesn’t have an ounce of solar talent in him, and he’d rather not set Virlask’s new ketch on fire. “Don’t worry about it. I usually res if I get sick or—”

Tau stops talking. He stops talking because Virlask reaches over with his huge clawed secondary hand, placing it on the right side of Tau’s chest, and applies enough pressure that it really can’t be called anything else but groping.

Tau opens his mouth, but words just seem beyond him for the moment.

Virlask squeezes again, and just when Tau thinks he should have let go by now, the smooth part of Virlask’s claw rubs over Tau’s nipple through his shirt. It’s very deliberate. And also perfunctory enough that Tau assumes Virlask is not actually feeling frisky. But, still.

His stunned silence must have clued Virlask in. The rubbing and squeezing over his chest stops. Virlask withdraws his secondary hand, quick, and grimaces.

“Ah,” says Virlask, sounding both wry and embarrassed. “I believe I just did an inappropriate thing.”

Tau massages his other pec—not as thoroughly or precise as Virlask, but just for the sake of balance. Shit. Was his thermal suit really that thin? Both layers? He clears his throat. In a way, Virlask’s attention to human physiology is sweet, and he’s learned quite a bit already— stuff like runny noses (endearingly gross), goosebumps (no opinion), shivering (cute), raised hairs (alarming), and now another interesting human cold response to add to the list.

“Well, maybe don’t do it in public,” Tau eventually says, crossing his arms over his chest. Fuck. It is cold, now that he doesn’t have Virlask’s hands on him. “Or ask first. In private.”

Virlask’s secondaries fold behind him. Despite the situation, Tau finds it charming, knowing that Virlask only does it to stop fidgeting his claws when he’s feeling self-conscious. “Sorry. I thought it would be like petting your back, or rubbing your thighs.”

“Rubbing my th-” Tau starts, slipping into human universal. He shakes his head. Probably a platonic Eliksni habit. He laughs, stepping closer. No harm, no foul, and he’s glad there’s going to be one less Eliksni accidentally groping other guardians around. He’ll save the bit about thighs for another time. “Never mind. It’s fine. Took me by surprise, is all. And just so we’re clear—that kind of grabbing usually has sexual connotations.” Tau smiles, wry, and raps his knuckles over Virlask’s chest plates. It’s hard not to feel fond. “If it’s between us, I don’t mind.”

Virlask peers down at him. At least two of his eyes are looking a little further down where Tau has crossed his arms. Tau guesses he should be lucky Virlask’s other two are where they’re supposed to be. Now that he thinks about it, it really does explain Virlask’s grabby foreplay habits. Or maybe that’s just the natural consequence of having four hands.

“Oh, good,” Virlask says, secondary arms dropping back to his sides in relief. “Because I was also curious. There never seems to be a right time to ask before.”

Tau looks up at him, mouth twitching into a smile. He uncrosses his arms, both sardonic and inviting. “Anything you want to ask about now?”

Virlask tilts his head to one side, considering. He takes a step closer. “May I try something?”

“Go for it. You want my shirt off or—”

All four of Virlask’s arms reel him in before he can finish speaking. At first, Tau thinks Virlask is planning to do some extensive fondling for educational purposes, but he’s really only being pressed to Virlask’s midsection. A clawed hand comes behind Tau’s head, guiding it to rest over his chest plates.

As far as hugs go, it’s nice. Tau makes an inquiring noise, but a loud rumbling in his ear stops him. He’s heard Virlask purr before, usually after sex when Virlask is exhausted and pleased and curling over Tau. Incredibly adorable in all circumstances, but this time around the purring takes on a higher pitch, more buzzing in quality. The vibrations shake through Tau’s body, rattling just about every part of him.

It’s warm though. Tau presses closer, still a little cautious, but Virlask lets go of him for a moment to shift the rest of his cape around him, and his intentions become clear.

“Still cold?”

It’s like leaning into a pile of friendly bees. Tau decides to keep that thought to himself. No more runny nose, goosebumps, or raised hairs now. One of Virlask’s cold hands sneaks under his thermal to cup his left pectoral so the perky nipple problem hasn’t been allowed to resolve yet.

Oh well. Tau lets him have it.

“Nah,” he says, hiding his grin, “Not anymore.”

[ohreadermine]

[log:cherix] bet

SOME DAILY LIFE ON THE KETCH feat. Cherix.

Cherix lost a bet. It didn’t matter if she was a vandal and all of her dregs had turned on her. Even her captain stood aside laughing in her corner of the room. She’d miscounted her shank counters and wasn’t willing to put down anymore of her ration, so she called it quits with her fellow vandals and threw down her canister into the prize pile. Her other punishment could wait.

“I hope the baron isn’t with that guardian,” she said, unhappy as the vandal group broke open her ether canister to split between them. The actual lost of either itself wasn’t a big deal. The new baron had increased their ether rations so she was still getting used to the intake, which she had just conveniently lost.

“We’re lucky Virlask keeps that monster in line,” Baselk said, clearing the gambling counters off the table.

“You really think it’s that way? I heard Virlask owed the ghoul a life debt,” another vandal chimed in—Cherix didn’t know her name yet.

The comment sparked a round of theoretical scenarios among the vandals and dregs. Cherix should have known everyone’s names by now, but the cohorts were still being shuffled around due to the plummeting number of crew, thanks to the single guardian who basically killed his way to the Prime Servitor room, according to several rumors passing through the ship. Apparently the primary ketch crew suffered the most losses, which had led both her and her dregs to be reassigned under Captain Belcerlix, who also happened to be under reassignment herself after the demise of Captain Fikres.

Cherix didn’t mind the promotion from scouting party to primary ketch crew, but it meant seeing the human on a regular basis. She was curious herself to see what the main crew knew about the situation, but she found out that most of them had very little idea either.

They all looked at Captain Belcerlix, expectant.

Captain Belcerlix stared at them. “I have not been informed of anything. If we need to know, Virlask or Zeliks Prime will tell us.”

The boring answer. Cherix tried not to sigh. Captain Belcerlix hadn’t been known for being a stickler for rules, but having a new baron around tended to keep everyone on their toes, especially the captains. As far as Cherix could tell, Belcerlix was genial enough around her new subordinates, but was clearly still measuring everyone up. Losing a round of bets probably wasn’t helping Cherix’s case, but the least she could do was uphold the terms. Maybe that would get Captain Belcerlix on her good side.

Baselk huffed. “Virlask doesn’t seem like the type to roll over for anyone, even for a ghoul.”

“He might if his life was on the line.”

“Nah. If you ask me, Virlask is one of the Traditional types. He went through the all hassle of asking for an official challenge for the ketch.”

“If he was Traditional then why in the Great Machine would he be hanging around with a guardian?”

It was telling that Captain Belcerlix was allowing the vandals and dregs to gossip to freely. Cherix glanced at her captain, wary, but Belcerlix looked more amused than offended. Then again, maybe it was some kind of trick to weed out the stupid. Cherix didn’t know much about Belcerlix, but the captain must have done something noteworthy to be promoted to primary captain by Virlask.

“Maybe they’re just good friends,” said a dreg, sitting on the floor.

Everyone looked at the dreg, even Captain Belcerlix. Cherix craned her neck and was embarrassed to find that it was Nef, one of her dregs. She put her face into her claws.

Nef, seeing all their attention on him, huffed his ether, hasty to consume it in case Cherix was going to take it away. “Virlask and Tau-titan look like they get along. To me.”

“That’s stupid,” Rixis said, laughing. His dregs snickered with him.

“He might have a point,” Cherix said, jumping in. Nef was an idiot dreg, but he was her idiot dreg. “I mean, why else would the guardian wander around without his armor if he felt threatened—”

Captain Belcerlix made a chuffing noise, interrupting. “Ugh, don’t get me started on that. It makes me uncomfortable when he has his helmet off.”

All the vandals and dregs perked up, encouraged by the captain’s comment.

“Oh, good. It’s not just me.”

“I didn’t know they had faces.”

“Have you see his teeth?” Cherix shuddered. “They’re all flat… It’s horrible.”

“It’s the claws they get to me. I hate them. It’s like five little worms.”

The compartment door opened with a sudden hiss, making everyone jump in their place. Cherix turned, a little relieved to see that it was only Zeliks-4, one of Zeliks Prime’s smaller ancillaries. It gave a short rumble, hovering towards Captain Belcerlix. They exchanged a few wordless signals, and Belcerlix glanced up at Cherix.

“Well, Cherix, you’ve stalled long enough,” Belcerlix said, bright eyes glimmering, “Baron Virlask isn’t answering his comms and Zeliks Prime is tired of waiting. Go find him.”

Cherix had a hard time looking happy about the order. She grunted an affirmative and followed after Zeliks-4’s drifting trail. Back in her old unit, she would have joked about the hierarchy of having captain go instead but she didn’t know Belcerlix well enough to go through with it.

“Have fun. Don’t let the ghoul kill you,” Baselk called out as the door shut behind her.

Out of sight from everyone, Cherix wringed her claws together. There was a low chance of dying, but one could never tell with a guardian involved.

Zeliks-4 led her out of the barracks in typical silence. Without it, Cherix wouldn’t have access to the baron’s quarters and having Zeliks-4 with her let everyone know she was on an important mission that involved the guardian. She didn’t know if Zeliks Prime insisted on being an escort for her, or if it wanted her to be an escort for one of its ancillaries. Zeliks Prime made it clear of what it thought about Tau-titan, and she always trusted Zeliks to protect the crew.

The hallway leading to the baron’s quarters was quiet and empty. Cherix would have lingered a bit at the door, but Zeliks-4 bumped its chassis against the hold in an impatient imitation of a knock. Cherix reached over, keyed in a request at the control panel, and knocked as well. She didn’t think the control panel would be broken, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

She waited, glancing at Zeliks-4. “Uh, maybe we should come back—oh!”

Zeliks-4 started to hack the control panel, bright lights and scans whirling with intensity. If servitors had visible expressions, Cherix would have called it furiously hacking. Maybe a captain of a high standing would have told the servitor to stop, but she was only a vandal and she was going to have to keep her mouth shut.

The baron could be in danger, Zeliks-4 signaled. Even through visual code, it didn’t sound very sincere.

“Or sleeping,” Cherix tried, as she had not seen Virlask get much rest since installing himself as baron of the ketch.

Zeliks-4 didn’t answer her, as fitting for someone of her station. The control panel lit up with an override confirmation. Cherix looked up at the door, glad to find it hissing open, but not before a blurred object came zooming out to spin around Zeliks-4. She jumped, almost pulling out her rifle to shoot it.

It was the guardian’s little light machine. Zeliks-4 hovered forward, its eye blinking bright and annoyed. Cherix stepped back, dragging Zeliks-4 behind her. She was duty bound to protect Zeliks-4, but Zeliks-4 had to do its part too. The little machine was at least five times smaller than Zeliks-4, but she wasn’t going to take any chances.

Besides, the little machine was zooming around less, though it was turned to Zeliks-4 and blinking lights back at it in an argument that Cherix wasn’t privy to understanding.

“Zeliks Prime is requesting Virlask,” she interjected, trying to be diplomatic. She didn’t want to imply that Virlask was ignoring his comms, but she was having a hard time trying to come up with a polite way to phrase it.

Luckily—or unluckily—she was spared from screwing up her social standing even more when the guardian strode out of the baron’s quarters with all his attention on Cherix.

“Are you looking for Virlask?” Tau asked as his ghost disappeared. “He’ll be out in a minute.”

Cherix tried not to wring her claws again. At least the guardian was in armor, helmet included. She felt better meeting his reflective lens instead of needing to look at his two eyes. Though, now that her new cohort had brought up the fact that he was running around the ketch in plain clothes, it seemed strange that the titan was in full armor now.

It really shouldn’t have taken her so long to realize that Tau was staring right back at her. Cherix ignored her instinct to back away and stood up straighter. It helped that Zeliks-4 was trying to nudge her closer. She discreetly swatted it.

“You’re that vandal who killed me,” the guardian finally said. His Eliksni was accented but very clear. Very understandable.

To the point where it was obvious he was surprised.

Cherix almost shriveled into nothingness on the spot. She hoped the ghoul wouldn’t have remembered that.

“Yes,” Cherix said, but couldn’t bring herself to apologize. She had sniped him at close range during the attack, killing him in an instant before he resurrected.

“Nice sharpshooting,” Tau said. “I didn’t even see it.”

Cherix took in a fortifying breath. “Please tell Virlask I’m thankful that he spared me.”

It was all she could manage. In reality, she had been on patrol outside the ship and Virlask had stopped Tau from killing her the moment he came back to life. Laid one claw over the ghoul’s arm and snapped at the guardian to stop. To her amazement, Tau did, but only if she kept quiet and let them sneak onboard the ship.

She was certain that was the reason why Virlask had her reassigned from the scouting unit to the ketch crew. If her opd scouting party found out, they would have cut all four of her arms.

“Spared you?” Tau sounded confused, like there was a translation problem.

“Do you follow the baron's orders?” Cherix tried again, using simpler terms. She balked, knowing what it implied. “Forgive me if that isn’t… how it works between the two of you.”

“Orders?” Tau laughed. “No?”

Cherix tilted her head. At a rattling noise further into the baron’s quarters, she snuck a glance around Tau and saw that Virlask was emerging out of a smaller room, fixing the clasps of his cloak.

The baron looked disheveled, though his all armor was in place and he didn’t seem rushed or tired. Cherix blinked. The baron was normally more put together—a couple of wrinkles in his clothes, a loose tube from his respirator rattling—but perhaps even someone like him had an off day.

Tau caught her looking. He leaned close, blocking her line of sight.

“He asked,” the guardian said, sounding amused, “and I obliged. That’s why I didn’t kill you.”

Cherix nodded, numb.

Virlask growled from inside the room. “What are you telling Cherix?”

Tau shrugged, saving Cherix from having to answer. “Just making friendly conversation.”

“You’re making her nervous. Go somewhere else.”

Tau glanced behind him. Cherix didn’t want to imagine the angry look he must have shot Virlask. She was both mortified and thankful Virlask was able to notice her discomfort. Then again, most of the crew didn’t like being around the guardian.

Tau made a displeased noise. “Am I?” he said, looking at her. He paused. “Sorry. I’ll wait inside.”

“You probably told her something awful on accident,” Virlask berated, though he sounded mostly resigned. He approached the two of them. “Cherix, if he starts saying anything rude or scary, tell him to stop. Sometimes he doesn’t know any better.”

Cherix knew she was never doing to do that, but she said, faint, “Yes, lord baron.”

Tau huffed, nudging Virlask with an elbow before he retreated back into the baron’s quarters. “I’ll try not to be so scary. Sorry, Cherix.”

Cherix stared, too intimidated to say anything back, which was just as well. Virlask looked like he was about to kick Tau off the ship if he didn’t move any faster.

She thought about Nef. Friends, he had said. Maybe. She had some doubts either way.

Zeliks-4 made an impatient signal. Cherix started. “Uh, Virlask, Zeliks Prime…”

“Yes, yes,” Virlask said with a sigh. He gestured for her to lead the way. “I apologize. My comms were off.”

Behind her, Zeliks-4 signaled something rude to Virlask. She didn’t know what exactly, but that flashing color meant clear annoyance. Her steps quickened. Cherix only wanted to hurry away. She could feel Virlask’s silence like a heavy weight in the air. Was he angry at the servitor? Embarrassed?

Cherix didn’t want to turn around to find out.

“This way,” she said, even if all three of them should have already known how to get around the ketch. “I know a shortcut.”

For some reason, Virlask sounded relieved. “Yes, thank you, Cherix.”

[ohreadermine]

[log:virlask] festival - 1/2

Characters: Virlask, Rael, Lukaia Note: takes place pre-baron, pre-relationship (HEH). i just wanted to write about virlask in the city, but first.. he has to get through a couple of protective hunters to do it. 

Lukaia says, “You know you aren’t the first fallenfucker to try and sneak their bugtoy into the City, right? Especially during the festival. You think I’m an idiot?”

Her voice echoes through the City’s underground tunnels. Rael winces. Virlask is torn between trying to look demure and trying to restrain himself from drawing himself up. He doesn’t think Lukaia would respond well to either action anyway. The hunter herself is sitting on top of an concrete ledge, looking down at them with a haughty air. To add insult to injury, she wears a parody of an Eliksni helmet made of paper.

Virlask knows about the strange traditions of the Festival of the Lost. He thinks the paper masks are comical, but the way Lukaia wears it seems too intentional to be anything but mocking. Virlask takes a step forward. Not enough to cross any line, but to make it a point that he isn’t intimidated. And aside from the wince, Rael’s body language suggests he’s not insulted either so Virlask stays quiet. They are at the watchguard’s mercy, even if Tau had vouched for Lukaia’s character.

“Easily done in by shards, exotics, and sometimes a good fuck. But it has to be really good,” Tau says before sending Virlask off with Rael.

Lukaia hasn’t looked too carefully at Virlask. She seems more interested in giving her fellow hunter a hard time.

“He isn’t mine,” Rael says, mild. He reaches over to grab one of the horns on Virlask’s helmet, giving it a fond pull, as if to say, see? Harmless. “This is Tau’s bedbug. I’m doing him a favor.”

Virlask’s eyes narrow, head bumping against Rael’s hand. It’s humiliating, but he knows he has to play docile. There isn’t any other way into the City. At Tau’s request, Rael had agreed to take Virlask through one of the many secret hunter entrances. Per hunter code, Tau hadn’t been invited, and of course even secret tunnels need guarding.

“Tau?” Lukaia repeats. Her ridiculous Eliksni mask finally turns to Virlask, looking him up and down. She notices the design of his helmet, giving his rank away. “Little Captain,” she comments in crude Eliksni, though her voice is sweet. “Doesn’t seem like Tau’s type.”

Virlask growls. He had stopped his ether intake a few days ago to better mimic a human’s height. He is a little bigger than a vandal now, but he has been a vandal long ago so he is used to having a smaller body. “Little hunter should just get to the point. What do you want in return?”

Lukaia makes a noise, most of her bluster shot through. Virlask is familiar with her type; bored, vapid, and hungry for entertainment. He wonders what bet she lost to be put on guard duty during a week of celebration. Human, Awoken, or Eliksni — mostly all the same, when it came to opportunistic troublemakers.

“Shards,” she says, her ghost appearing at her shoulder.

Rael’s own ghost transmats a telemetry in his hand and a bright yellow engram. He tosses them up to her. “And a bonus from Tau. He says hi.”

Lukaia’s ghost collects the items before its hunter needs to catch them. Virlask can already assume Lukaia isn’t done with them yet. Tau’s additional gift had been a very optimistic gamble.

Lukaia jumps down to meet them, somersaulting as she lands. Virlask sees Rael tap his foot, unimpressed.

“That’s enough to get you through, Rael,” Lukaia says, peering up at Virlask. Her bright green eyes glow through the paper mask.

Virlask stares back. The skin of Lukaia’s exposed jawline shimmers blue. So she is an Awoken like Rael. It explains her dramatics.

Rael sighs. “I shouldn’t need to pay any toll. I knew about this tunnel years ago.”

“My watch, my rules,” Lukaia says, cheerful. She pokes Virlask’s forehead, right between his eyes. “I like your helmet. I want it.”

Virlask doesn’t budge, but he’s had enough of being played with. He picks her up, grips around her torso gentle but firm, and lets her feet dangle off the ground. “No.”

There’s a knife at his throat now. Virlask doesn’t know how Lukaia does it so fast, but he isn’t surprised. The real surprise is Rael’s knife clashing against hers to stop it from touching him.

“Kaia,” Rael warns, a starry streak of purple light glimmering along his blade’s edge. “This one’s nice.”

Lukaia’s head tilts, paper mask going askew. She scoffs, the tip of her boot connecting lightly with Virlask’s shins. “Fine. We’ll trade,” she says, withdrawing her knife and resting her arms over Virlask. The position can’t be comfortable, but she looks relaxed enough. “Your helmet for my mask.”

Virlask lowers her back to the ground. He doesn’t want to give away his helmet but he’d rather not deal with her even more. “Agreed.”

Rael huffs, stepping aside. Virlask wouldn’t call him nervous, but he’s learned Rael to be a cautious guardian. A true rarity. He pulls off his helmet, mandibles clicking in agitation.

Lukaia takes off her mask and they make the exchange. Virlask expects there to be another trick or play, but Lukaia seems to have grown bored of teasing him. Her face has a smattering of spots across her cheeks and nose, and her hair is dark red-violet in the dim light. Tau had called her pretty in a very resigned tone. But then again, Tau has a very human-centric idea of beauty.

The paper mache mask is fragile in his claws. Virlask growls, sneering at the poor design. Judging from the shape of the horns, it’s supposed to be a captain’s helmet. He puts it on, the elastic tie a surprisingly nice fit around his skull. It’s light and flimsy. He’ll need to be careful that it stays on.

“Aw,” Lukaia says, full of condescending approval. She puts on Virlask’s helmet without hesitation. “Now you’re ready for the festival.”

Her eyes do not match up with the holes of the helmet. Ridiculous. Virlask grunts, suspicious to find that he can see fine through the slits of the paper mask. He says, reluctant, “Thank you.”

“Only because it’s Tau. I’m weak to big, strong handsome men,” Lukaia laments, hand over her chest.

“You think he’s handsome?” Virlask mutters, disbelieving. “And big?” From behind, he hears Rael wheeze.

“Oh, so you are funny,” Lukaia says. She laughs. “Okay, okay. One more thing and I’ll let you two go, I swear. Let me see your hand.”

Virlask makes a point to not look back at Rael, but a part of him thinks he should have. He reaches out and stop when Lukaia shakes her head.

“Secondary, Little Captain,” she says, muffled from the heavy helmet.

Another test or another tease. Impatient, Virlask puts his left secondary hand out.

There’s a spark of arc light, piercing pain around his middle claw, and Lukaia’s deft fingers ghosting over his palm. She raises her hands before he could snatch his own arm back. When Virlask looks down, there is a gray brand around his middle claw at the skin.

“What is this?” he snaps in Eliksni. He turns to Rael, some part of him knowing the hunter could have stopped it, and it was worrying that Rael hadn’t. The band still throbs, though the initial burst of pain is gone.

“Tracker,” says Lukaia, jumping back to her high ledge. “You think I’m just going to let a Fallen captain through after a couple of shards and a shiny new helmet? The Vanguard will have my head if they found out.”

Virlask can’t find it in himself to disagree. He’s had passing thoughts about how much damage one Eliksni could do in the City, all of them theoretical. It still baffles him Tau thought it a good idea to invite him during a holiday of mourning, however celebratory it is.

“If you go anywhere you’re not supposed to go or try to take that band off, I promise there’ll be a bunch of hunters on your ass before you can blink,” Lukaia continues. “And who knows. Maybe then you’ll see just how serious Tau can be about our city.”

Virlask flexes his injured hand. The band around his claw doesn’t glow, but there a thin purple line running at the bottom. He looks to Rael, unsurprised to see the other hunter unsympathetic.

“I have no intention of harming anyone in your City. I’m only…” Virlask pauses. “I’m only here to see the festival with a friend.”

Rael chuckles, and Lukaia laughs.

“You can say you’re here for a date,” she says, shrugging. “Honestly, you might run into some of your people out there. They might be wearing masks like you, or not. So don’t get surprised. Heard we’ve got some psions in the crowd, too.” Her green eyes flicker. “Alright. Get out of here. You’ll be late for the candy toss.”

Virlask doesn’t know what to say to that. It is only when Rael nudges him along that he starts walking forward, past Lukaia’s watchful gaze. For all her taunting and careless behavior, she does seem to take her guard duties seriously. At other people’s expense.

He picks one claw beneath the tracker band, not liking the prickling itch. The band doesn’t budge. Virlask’s jaw clenches, and he tries to give the ring a little twist around his claw without taking it off. With an angry start, he realizes the band can’t be taken off, whether he wants it or not. It’s been melded into his skin, and Virlask doesn’t like the thought of a guardian using their powers to brand him.

“How do I take the tracker off after I leave?” he asks, turning around. He feels Rael’s touch at his elbow, a very light warning to behave.

“Oh. Thought it’d be obvious to you,” Lukaia says from her ledge. She holds up a hand, pressing a knife to the middle joint of her finger. She mimes a flourishing slash through the air. “If you want the tracker gone, cut it off. You guys do it all the time, right?”

Virlask feels his ruff flatten. He growls, but it’s more out of bitterness than at Lukaia. “Not anymore, Little Hunter.”

“Oh, I’ll update my reports then,” Lukaia says, laconic. She waves, voice drifting as they turn out of sight in the tunnels. “Have fun, Little Captain. Enjoy the festival.”

[ohreadermine]

[log:virlask]  073018

Tau/Virlask - Rating: T (nsfw implication) - Post-ketch takeover

Some.. uhhh,. stupid.. relationship navigation... and............... hornt.

Virlask always suspected Tau was going to test the boundaries of compatibility, but it still came as an unpleasant shock when Virlask felt something snap beneath him and Tau made a sudden pained noise that was entirely new. By then, Virlask was already taking his weight off and looking down while Tau let out a string of soft human cursing that had Virlask backing away even more.

It was tempting to say ‘I told you so’, but Virlask kept his mouth shut. ‘I told you so’ meant nothing when he was just as complicit.

They had broken Tau’s leg, and Virlask could guess how it happened, but he hadn’t—it was difficult to tell when he should have eased off. Especially when Tau gave no indication that he wanted Virlask to be gentler. He didn’t think Tau would ever put in such a request anyway.

Tau’s ghost materialized between them before Virlask could say anything, choosing to whisk Tau away instead of sticking around to heal just the leg. Virlask’s shoulders hunched up, sheepish, but Theta was a tactful little machine, twinkling core rolling in an aerial pattern reminiscent of a shrug before disappearing.

Seconds later, Tau reappeared through the cabin doorway. Virlask opened his mouth then closed it. Tau had resurrected naked again, stepping back into the bed like nothing happened. While it was flattering that Tau wanted to continue, Virlask’s own heat-fueled moment had passed, and Tau’s expression was one of serious determination, like he was preparing for battle. Judging from his anatomy, he wasn’t even aroused anymore. Just stubborn.

Virlask snorted, reaching over to the side of the bed to drag his heavy cape over. Tau’s skin had even lost its dark flush and sweaty sheen.

“Ambitious of you,” he commented, dropping the cape over Tau’s head. Tau never complained about being cold, but Virlask knew endoskeletal beings tended to get chilled without clothing. Besides, he liked Tau pulling the furred decoration over his shoulders, even if the size of the cape made him look even smaller than usual.

“You really have gotten too big,” Tau said in disbelief. He crossed his legs, propping an elbow on one knee to rest his chin in the palm of his hand. The movement sent half of Virlask’s cape slipping off his right shoulder.

Virlask readjusted it. Tau’s curling tattoos peeking from his back always distracted him.

“I don’t like consuming this much ether,” he said. Even now his ether canister and respirator were still in the corner of the room. Virlask was feeling disgruntled enough to leave it off for now. Tau seemed to take their abrupt halt in stride, but Virlask still felt pent up; Tau had wrapped himself so nicely around him— “The mercenary barons are still arguing amongst themselves. I doubt I will be hold their attention for long if I keep—” Virlask growled, frustrated enough to copy Tau’s crude way of speaking, “—shrinking.”

Tau frowned, thoughtful. “I could step in.”

“You would make me Kell if you could,” Virlask muttered. At Tau’s curious look, he shook his head. “No. Don’t kill all the barons. They are still my people, you know.”

Tau blinked, chin lifting from his hand in realization. “Oh. Sorry. I need to stop thinking like that.”

Virlask didn’t doubt Tau’s words, but the guardian had lived for a long time. Old habits were difficult to break. “As long as you understand now. Sorry for breaking your leg.”

Tau finally grinned, giving his own thigh a smack, probably where the bone had snapped. “Almost worth it.”

Virlask glanced down at Tau’s thigh. The skin had a slight change in hue when Tau hit it, dark to light then back to normal. He reached over, putting his hand over the spot and rubbed it, feeling the muscles tense and relax. The idea of Tau’s skin changing subtle shades at his touch never stopped being fascinating, and Virlask was big enough now that his claw could curl fully around Tau’s thigh. That was disappointing.

Tau patted his hand, voice pleasant. “Are we done or are you just being curious?”

Virlask withdrew his hand but he bent his head to try and nibble at Tau’s throat. It took a few tries, being too large to fit his head into the crook of Tau’s neck. Virlask only managed to drag his lower teeth at the base of Tau’s shoulder. He licked the spot, dissatisfied, and sat back. “Just curious,” he said, apologetic.

Tau had changed colors again, this time in the face. The teeth marks had left long streaks over his skin. He cleared his throat, rewrapping the cape snug over him. “Oh, okay. Hard to tell sometimes.”

Virlask stared. Then he roared with laughter, laying back in the bed. “You are too sensitive.”

“You’d be surprised how often I don’t get to hear that,” Tau said, wry.

“How fortunate for me.”

“I’ll remember you said that next time you complain.”

Tau got up from the bed, more or less pushed off now that Virlask was laying fully in it. There wasn’t any room besides—another reason why Virlask didn’t like his current ether ration, though he kept that thought to himself.

Virlask’s cape was still over Tau’s shoulders when he transmatted his armor back on. Virlask watched, and of course Tau saw.

“My feelings should be hurt. You like me in armor better than without,” Tau said, but he pulled off the cape and folded it neatly to set aside, grinning when Virlask made a disappointed noise. He leaned over to scratch the top of Virlask’s head. “I’m going back to my ship. Don’t be surprised if I’m gone for a few days. Vanguard’s got me on assignment—hah, don’t look so disappointed.”

Virlask didn’t think his expression had changed that much. Tau must have been getting better at reading him. “Maybe we should try again.”

Tau stared. Then laughed right back at him.

“Hm, next time,” he said, waving, and left the room to do whatever terrible Vanguard business he had to do. “Later, lord baron.”

Virlask grumbled.

[topmensfashion]

via Instagram https://ift.tt/2mnMDLD

[ohreadermine]

[log:tau] 072618

Some context: Tau just helped Virlask commandeer a baron’s ketch. Virlask is currently trying to assert his leadership with the old ketch crew. (And now Tau’s a bit of a horndog. They’re sort of together, sort of established.)

The interior of the ketch looked much better after the carnage had been cleaned and the stores rearranged. As Tau understood it, the ship was significantly smaller than most ketches but Virlask seemed to prefer it. A larger ship would mean needing more crew, and their take-over hadn’t been exactly bloodless—just the opposite—which lead to an even smaller group of wary Eliksni.

Changes in leadership weren’t so uncommon. Eliksni society was in the practice of usurping their captains or barons through either politics or violence. Tau would know. He pretty much shoved Virlask into the lofty baron spotlight, even if technically it was a mutual plan they agreed on. It was only until they had stormed the ketch that Virlask admitted he wasn’t prepared for how fast Tau would push things along with extreme force.

But now that things have nearly settled, Tau took the time to walk around the ship. In the aftermath of the battle, Virlask had holed him up in some private room while the stolen crew sorted themselves out and got used to his command.

“It’s bad having you always stalking behind me,” Virlask had said, exasperated. “If they end up fearing you more than seeing me as the baron, it will cause problems. Go back to the City for a few days.”

Tau frowned. Virlask had a point.

So, a few days later, Tau was back on Zeliks-Syn. He was met with the same nervous skittering from the dregs, shanks scattering to the wind, and the cautious stares of the braver captains. Feeling a little bad, he transmatted onboard with his armor off, choosing to wear plain clothes and minimal weaponry—one gun and a knife at his hip. He was going to be a frequent presence on the ship. Might as well get them used to it.

After couple of steps down the mainway and seeing how the dregs still gave him a wide berth, Tau learned that exposing his face only alarmed them even further. He sighed, chagrined, and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Why are you always scaring my people,” Virlask asked glumly when he appeared through the back entryway.

They spoke Eliksni for the benefit of the crew and to keep things friendly. Tau suspected even that got them on edge, knowing he could speak and understand the language without any translating device or Theta to help.

“Hey, not my fault… okay. A lot my fault,” Tau admitted. He fell into step with Virlask, letting him take a slight lead. Encourage that baron rank for the sake of appearances. It wasn’t all that hard, considering the length of Virlask’s strides. Still, it was a change from normally taking point while Virlask fell back behind him. “Shouldn’t you start parading me around more?”

Virlask looked down at him, eyes narrowing. “As a prize?”

Tau stared back, one corner of his mouth hitching up. “As a show of alliance.”

“Hm,” was all Virlask said and continued on his way. His respirator gave a small huff and he adjusted one of the canisters. A wisp of ether blew out from his mask. “Maybe.”

Tau gave a short laugh, taking four quick steps to catch up. Damn—Virlask was walking fast, even if the newly minted baron was making a conscious effort to not force Tau into a light jog. He craned his neck up, a little thrown off by how far he had to angle his gaze. Something was off. “I can be diplomatic.”

Virlask snorted. “I recall. You threw the Prime Servitor out the ketch when it refused to land.”

“Well, I didn’t kill it. We’re buds now.”

“Zeliks-Prime formally requested for you to not be in the same room as it, ever. I want to make amends with the ketch’s main servitor so I’m asking you to leave it alone for now.”

Oh.

“A happy pilot is a safe pilot,” Tau said, switching back to human universal for the moment. He waited for Virlask to key the code into the next hallway. “Good idea.”

The doors hissed open. Tau walked through, momentarily forgetting he was supposed to let Virlask go first. He turned around, watching with a puzzled frown as Virlask had to duck to clear the doorway, something he never had to do before.

Tau glanced at Virlask’s ether canisters. They were new, which wasn’t so strange but it made Tau suspicious. When Virlask started to walk past him, Tau grabbed him by the elbow—secondary, as that always got Virlask’s attention quicker. Sure enough, Virlask halted, but didn’t move his arm out of the way.

“Did you get bigger?” Tau asked, looking up. More up than usual.

Surprisingly, Virlask looked annoyed by it. He started to lead Tau into one of the smaller rooms for a semi-private conversation, which meant Tau had possibly screwed up an Eliksni social cue. “Yes. I’ve increased my ether ration for now.”

Tau peered around, not bothering to be discreet about it. Virlask’s cloak made it difficult for a full comparison anyway. “I thought you wanted to keep your rations the same.”

Virlask turned around with him, as if he suspected Tau would just lift up his cloak to really check. Not that Tau would do that, not in public at any rate. “I do. But I will be meeting with other barons soon. I wish to talk to them about allegiances, and they are—” he said something incomprehensible to Tau and then repeated, ”—‘Old fashioned’, in your language. If I am only as big as a captain, they won’t take me seriously.” Virlask huffed. “So I must consume more ether, just enough to be respectful in their eyes.”

Tau pressed his lips together. He tried not to look down at Virlask’s thighs but it was bad enough his eyes naturally came up to Virlask’s midsection now. He could see it; Virlask did get… bulkier.

His unabashed staring didn’t go unnoticed. Virlask loomed over him, trying to look stern but Tau had never been in the habit of backing down from anything, and he wasn’t going to start now. He did, however, allow the indignity of Virlask crouching to meet him at eye-to-eye level.

“The logistics of our... current arrangements are challenging enough,” Virlask said, voice dropping low to avoid anyone overhearing, but he sounded amused.

And when Virlask was amused, he tended to growl. Tau’s self-control died a quick death and all the light in the universe wouldn’t have been able to resurrect it back.

“I am determined to make them work,” Tau said, pointed, and braced his palms over Virlask’s thighs.

He was happy to find that Virlask had miscalculated badly when he chose to lower himself within easy reach. Tau leaned in and bit the opened part of Virlask’s jaw, teeth scraping against the hard exoskeleton. It was the kind of kiss he knew Virlask would feel, and when his cheek bumped against the respirator, he felt the cold ether of Virlask’s sharp exhale against his skin. Tau grinned.

All four of Virlask’s hands were on him, two gripping his shoulders and two at his waist. Virlask didn’t try to move him away.

“How come with you it’s the opposite—the larger I get the less respect you show,” Virlask said dryly.

“I respect you plenty,” Tau said, enjoying the way Virlask’s claws were furrowing into him. It wasn’t enough to break skin, but the light scratches felt nice without the armor for once. He rubbed his palms over Virlask’s thighs and was rewarded with a deep, throaty rumble.

“You only want me for my ether and my ketch and my skiffs.”

“And your huge Prime Servitor.”

Virlask’s laugh was loud and echoing. A baron’s laugh. It suited him. “Joke. Please don’t seduce Zeliks Prime away. We need it to fly the ketch.”

With that, Virlask picked Tau up, setting him to the side, and straightened back to his full height. Tau glanced away, a little put out, and missed the moment Virlask decided to guide his chin with the points of his claws, turning Tau’s head gently, and press their foreheads together.

The casual sweetness of the gesture took Tau off guard, leaving him standing still and well-behaved for the moment, long enough for Virlask to continue talking.

“I want to take you with me to the mercenary barons,” he said, dropping his hands from Tau’s face. He tugged at Tau’s sleeve, signaling for him to follow. “Not to fight them, obviously, but ‘parade you around’, as you want to call it. Show you off like the horrific Great Machine-Thief you are.”

“Like a prize,” Tau said with a grin, walking back into the hall.

“As a show of alliance,” Virlask corrected. “My alliance.”

Tau hummed, thoughtful. “I knew you’d take to this baron thing well.”

“You have bias,” Virlask said, gaze fixed ahead. “When the meeting with the barons is over, I will go back to my normal ether rations. It’ll be better for crew morale and—” He paused, catching Tau’s expression. “You joke again.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I haven’t seen what’s under your cloak yet.”

Virlask fussed around with the canisters again, decreasing the flow of ether. The growing pains must be brutal. “You are very determined to find out, and you’re going to be disappointed that it is mostly the same.”

Tau raised an eyebrow. Disappointment was not a trait he associated Virlask with. He figured the sudden caginess was because Virlask was feeling self-conscious and just a little stressed, given the current situation. Virlask hadn’t wanted to increase his ether intake for a variety of reasons, the main one being the ketch’s limited number of servitors.

But, maybe Virlask was still being truthful about the logistics of arrangements. He wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise, even if he was teasing.

Tau gave him a considering look, and then stepped into the shadow of Virlask’s stooping figure. The dark cloak was like a curtain, keeping Tau mostly hidden, and it would be hard to tell what exactly he was doing—which was pressing his face against Virlask’s lower abdomen and guiding Virlask’s hand to settle on top of his head.

Tau didn’t have to kneel or stand on his toes, only bend his head a little to let his voice vibrate against Virlask’s abdominal plates.

“Disappointed?” he said, low, and felt the claws over his head dig into his scalp. He smiled when Virlask gave a full bodied twitch. “I really doubt it.”

By the time Tau stepped away, Virlask was staring him down, blue eyes glittering sharp. His hand was still gripping Tau’s hair so Tau took the liberty of tipping his head back. Virlask didn’t offer much resistance, letting him nip at the palm and corded wraps. When Tau’s tongue darted out, licking the cold skin, Virlask finally drew his hand back.

“Later, then,” Virlask said, sounding mortified. He skittered past Tau, tweaking the ether canister. Increased the flow, just a little bit.

Tau grinned, allowing Virlask to escape for now.

“Great,” he called out after him, “I can wait.”

[ohreadermine]

[log:theta] 072518

Theta finally finds them.

The light frequency pings loud and clear despite the bare fragments washing up along the shore. Theta doesn’t have to collect all the microscopic dust and particles of the long dead human but a piece of bone turns over in the sand, flashing white and smooth, a pebble eroded by the sea. A quick scan doesn’t tell Theta much, other than that it’s very old, but it’s core spins in am excited circle. It’s heard of other ghosts who find whole bodies—mostly exos shells—or skeletons covered in moss and dirt, but a tiny piece of bone feels momentous.

Theta matches itself with the frequency, pulling and pulling until it gathers enough light to shape it into something living. Something that will be better than forgotten dust and grains of sand.

The air bursts in a bright flash. A human spills out into the waves, stumbling forward with the ocean before digging their hands into the sand to steady themselves as the water retreats. Their shoulders stay rigid for a second—one breath in, one breath out—before they glance up to look around.

Their gaze passes over Theta with a flicker of awareness, more wary of the quiet beach and the dense line of palm trees further inland. Nothing stirs, and after a moment, the human relaxes and turns to Theta, eyes vivid and glittering with curiosity in the morning sun.

“Hello,” says the human, voice a measured baritone but friendly enough. Water trickles down their face from their black hair. They don’t seem to mind, all attention focused on the ghost.

Theta analyzes the human’s body language, wanting to know how to best proceed. Judging from the way the human sits with their legs tucked beneath them, unbidden by the warm waves lapping over their bare feet, they aren’t bothered by much. Calm, clearly a little confused, but patient.

“Hello,” Theta replies with a happy chirp that it can’t suppress. “My name is Theta. You are my guardian, and I am your ghost.” A pause. Theta blurts out, “I’m glad to have finally found you.”

Its guardian smiles, and Theta feels a burst of static in its sensors, seeing that smile. “Nice to meet you. You’ve been looking for me? For a long time?”

“Yes,” Theta says, not sure how the guardian knows—but it’s just like how they simply know the universal language, or how to walk, or later use the weapons they will end up looting from the things they will kill. “You are on earth, very far from The City. I will show you the coordinates when I transmat a helmet on you.”

The guardian nods, satisfied with the short explanation for now, and moves to stand. Theta had risen them in light clothes, old pieces it had scavenged over the years from searching. The shirt is a poor fit, snug around their broad shoulders, and pants dripping from sitting in the water. Theta makes an internal list of small details and measurements to save for later.

It had thought—maybe a hunter, with that flash of curiosity when the guardian first appeared, or a warlock, sharp intelligence threading beneath their private observations. But—a titan, clearly. Theta can sense a wall of calm in the guardian, something that can easily turn into focus and ruthlessness.

It swaps the damp clothes for armor, a sturdy chest plate, reinforced gauntlets, helmet, and finally a piece of heavy cloth draped on one side of the hip.

The guardian isn’t perturbed. They are already blinking commands into the HUD.

“Ah. That’s better,” they say, though they give themselves away by pulling up the armor’s specifications in their screen—mostly turning the scans around. Their lips pull into a critical frown.

Theta is delighted by the vanity more than the white lie of politeness. It wants to know more about its guardian. “We’ll find better armor,” it promises.

The guardian ducks their head, embarrassed at being so obvious, but they straighten hopefully. “Yeah?”

“It’s a long walk to the City, and we’re going to have to find a ship eventually but we’re bound to find something before then.”

The titan isn’t daunted at all. They let out a quiet laugh that sends another joyous burst of static through the feed. A hand cups beneath Theta’s shell, not hesitating to give an acquinting touch that Theta knows will be habit.

“This way,” Theta says, charmed, and taps a reassuring panel against their fingers. It flashes a waypoint in the HUD and fades from its corporeal form.

The titan’s hand still hovers in the air, uncertainty lingering in their posture until Theta pings the waypoint again. They blink, taking a few steps in the right direction. “Theta?”

A new tone of voice. Different. Theta analyzes their guardian. It doesn’t take long to reevaluate the situation. If it could blush, it would. It’s never felt mortified before.

“Guardian,” Theta says, reappearing above the titan’s shoulder. “I’ll be with you, even if you don’t see me.”

A soft sigh from the helmet and one more step forward. This time, more confident. The guardian doesn’t say anything when Theta disappears one more time.

They’ve got a long ways ahead of them, Theta thinks happily, and a lot to learn about each other.

Theta knows the first death is always the most difficult. Its downloaded the psychological research on it, straight from the Tower. Their titan fights the Hive with a desperate amount of determination. The guardian’s biochemistry is oversaturated with adrenaline and acid build-up, strung tight with stress and fear. At first, Theta thinks their guardian is terrified of the Hive, but after observing their furious stare against the eerie glow of alien eyes and teeth, Theta surmises the fear must stem from somewhere else.

The guardian flinches when a knight’s sword cleaves down their arm. Theta attempts to repair the limb and internal shields, but it knows it would be better if their guardian were to die instead.

“Let it cut you in half,” Theta instructs, and it doesn’t mean for its voice to sound emotionless and cold, but it’s been so long that its interacted with any being that hadn’t been another ghost. “You will die, but I will bring you back to life.” Theta’s core whirls, flustered beeping faint. “I’m sorry, it will hurt.”

The guardian stops trying to scramble away from the knight. “I’m already hurting,” they say.

And then the knight’s sword comes down on them. The guardian’s jaw clenches, but there’s still a muffled whimper from within their helmet that only Theta can hear. It takes too long for the guardian’s light to flicker out, so stubborn until the end, but Theta is able to fly away with its guardian’s spark and that’s all that matters.

It never wants to hear its guardian make a noise like that again.

Ironically, there is more wonder in the second time their guardian gets resurrected. The titan reappears with the same burst of light, landing more surely on their feet than the first time.

They lift their rifle. There is a smile in their voice, a bite of viciousness that cuts the air. “So I can’t be killed?”

“You can die many deaths, guardian, but I will resurrect you each time.”

This is not strictly true, but there isn’t time to caution the guardian before they jump back into the fray. Theta knows it will have to clarify the vague specifics where the light will not reach them.

The Hive knight dies, neck broken and crumbling flesh riddled with bullets. The guardian dies as well, triumphant grin splitting their face before his body crumbles. Theta resurrects them.

After that, death is only another tool to use. Theta’s guardian doesn’t hesitate to jump off cliffs to avoid a tedious fight, but more often than not they charge headlong into a battle no mortal can win.

They are brave. But it doesn’t feel quite right to say it aloud. Maybe it isn’t bravery. Theta hesitates to call it foolhardiness.

It almost can’t figure it out until a week later when it finally detects a patrol beacon and the guardian’s heart rate increases, respirations growing short with carefully controlled excitement.

“The beacon is old. It might not work,” Theta warns, but their guardian looks so tense it vows to do anything to get it fixed if it is broken. It opens a channel, transmitting a code to the nearest Vanguard outpost.

It takes five minutes before a cheery reply crackles through the comm.

“Oh-ho, a new one!” the on-call hunter says, “Standby, Titan. Coming around for pick-up. Give me about ten minutes. Over.”

The titan goes still, straightening at the sound of the hunter’s voice, and then they sink down to their feet, breathy laughter escaping from them.

Theta knows it can survive with only the company of their guardian, but the same might not be true in reverse. It realizes now how lonely the guardian must have felt.

“Are you excited?” Theta ventures.

“Yeah?” the titan says, peering up at it. They smile. “I can’t wait for us to meet her. She sounds fun. Oh, and I heard you called her a hunter. What was all that about? Hey. Why are you spinning? Are you laughing? Theta—”

The hunter is a lanky awoken woman with a bright eyes and an even brighter laugh. She isn’t the usual kind of hunter Theta expects, but at least she is nice. Its guardian warms up to her quick enough, though it might be because she is the only other guardian its titan has met.

“Hey there, titan! I’m Noore,” she says, transmating from her ship. Her cloak is deep blue and half-length. She wears it well.

“Hey,” the titan says. “Thanks for coming. Listen, I don’t know much, but I’ve been listening to Theta and reading up on—”

“Yeah, I get it,” Noore says, reassuring. She claps him on the shoulder, three solid pats that must weigh nothing to the titan. “Don’t worry. It’s practically my job to keep a lookout for new guys who get resurrected in the middle of nowhere like you. It’s why the Vanguard likes to rotate us around every month or so.”

“Huh,” they say, thoughtful. “Sounds fun.”

“Nah. It can get a little boring at the outpost. I’m glad you showed up on the radio. Finally gave me something to do! C’mon, I’ll have my ghost transmat you up, if your ghost doesn’t mind.”

Theta, choosing to stay in its incorporeal form, pulses a reassuring wave of light.

Their guardian says, “No, it doesn’t mind.”

“Great! So, uh, titan. Before we go, what should I call you?”

There is a long, bewildered pause. Theta springs up, alerted by a sudden spike of anxiety. It is the first time it has ever seen its guardian truly panicked and distressed. Theta bumps against their cheek, feeling guilty. It hadn’t meant to neglect such an important social identifier, and apparently the titan hadn’t thought of it either—or maybe expected a name to be given to them.

Noore tips her head to one side.

“Ah, well. You can tell me later,” she says, surprisingly gentle. She waves her hand, signaling her ship to transmat them. “Alright. Up we go!”

It takes a couple of more hours, but Theta searches database after database, offering lists of inspiring figures and even old Golden Age heroes. They have at least solved the question of pronouns, thanks to Noore’s intricate card tricks.

“You decide,” its guardian says. They are alone in the quiet of the outpost’s bunker while Noore continues her patrol. “You found me, right?”

Theta’s core whirls.

“Tau,” it says, not too long after. It pauses, showing their guardian a projection of the symbol’s nature, however frivolous it may be. Tau is the very opposite of its own identifier, in terms of historical context. Theta finds it agreeable, but it wants to be earnest as well. “It is… an unusual name, for a human.”

But Tau blinks the screen away from his eyes. “Am I unusual?” he asks with the wry humor Theta is getting to enjoy.

“A little.”

Tau reaches out to clasp Theta in both his hands. “So it fits.”

Another burst of happiness—and for the first time Theta is unsure if it had come from Tau or itself.

“It fits.”