We are an age of beginnings.

RP Blog for an AU Skolas || Run by Spider || Mun is 18+

[solarkell]

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[peachtiiime]

              Sundog hears the nervousness in the ghost’s voice as she smooths the grit in his voice to the best of her ability. they hesitate to let their own come out in case Skolas had no qualms with shooting their ghost to protect himself. with the legacy they’ve been stockpiling with bodies and debts, they wouldn’t be surprised if she had heard of them in some way. they may have been a little on the simple side, but they sure as shit knew that now was not the time to bring up old grudges.

              they can’t help but be shocked that he’s speaking like this, though. implying that this was his territory, that they had no reason to raise their weapon against suddenly confronting the species that they were still very much at war with. how much had his ghost told him? maybe it wished to keep him in the dark to protect him despite his crimes. then again... maybe Sao’s thoughts on being risen combined with the philosophy of reincarnation was a better way to go about this. 

                 the putrid scent makes their stomach church slightly. a smell they had never forgotten. they huff through their nostrils, their own solar light puffing from it like a bull snorting dust in its discontent. there was no ‘despite their better judgement’, they knew it was best to not start a fight, but to get on his better side. to some extent.

                  Sundog stands, matching up to him as though they were eye to eye, when... quite literally, they were several feet smaller than him. their voice is low and firm as they speak in his tongue,

                  ❝ // your territory? see that spire back there? // ❞ they jab their thumb towards the data lattice tower.❝ // that there’s a vex hub that’s spreadin’ like a multipartite on steroids. I thought you were a damn quantum minotaur sneakin’ up on me so you could cop a fast one. // ❞ 

                     they sigh, resting their strong hands on their hips. their tone several less coals hot now. ❝ // if you don’t get out of here, you and your ghost are gonna get overrun. I’m here to wipe the slate and get the hell on. I’m doin’ you a favor, and I don’t wanna see you get hurt. you can come back when it’s safer. // ❞ 

                      they always hated bossing new lights around. they felt more comfortable showing them the ropes mid-sail so they could get a hands-on feel. they don’t know how long Skolas had been risen or how experienced he was with taking on a larger, stronger number of foes. they can’t help but want to avoid working with Skolas as well, given his well-remembered god-awful temper. the last thing they needed was some hot-headed asshole breathing down their neck.

[solarkell]

Skolas begins to growl. A low, deep rumble from the back of his throat that says all he means all too clearly.

You've chosen the wrong argument to make.

Smoke- not ether smoke- just smoke, curls from the corners of his mouth, slipping past his rebreather in gray plumes that leave traces of soot on his shell and helmet.

"Of course I see that spire," he snarls, "A spire that I've been dealing with myself without the likes of you parading in as though you can do what you please solely because you carry the Light within your veins. Why do you think I happen to be in this exact region, at this time? Do you think me inept?"

Skolas looms closer, looms over Sundog. While it could be seen as a mere intimidation tactic, it's anything but. It is an active threat, a promise that he will not back down and no amount of insistence or dismissal will make him.

"Or do you think yourself entitled to drive an Eliksni from his home so that you may run about unleashing violence upon the world?" he sneers, puffing more smoke as his hands curl into tight fists. "I have not resided here for these past few years to be told by you that I must go. I know how to handle myself in combat, and have dealt with Vex many a time before. I did not become the Kell of Kells by vacating scenes when things became troublesome, and I will not disgrace my legacy by doing so now."

"You are doing me no favors by asserting yourself in my home, quite the opposite. I have every right to be angered by your presence here, and your subsequent behavior."

[gaygxnslinger]

“…No,” Widow sighs finally. “He isn’t. In plenty of ways, from Light manifestation to… er… history.” It goes on, fidgeting awkwardly.

“See, he’s… His past life, is well known, to put it as simply as I can.” She lifts one of her spidery legs to itch at her shell, contorting it oddly in the process before resting it against the Kell’s helm again. She thinks, idly, how awful this would look if any other Guardian were to stumble upon all four of them here and now. Skolas and Oryx, potentially teaming up.

Thank the Light nobody else bears witness right now.

“And he’s got… well… it’s- it’s a very, very special gift. His Light is different, it manifests in a way I myself have never seen before. I don’t want people to think he’s a threat before he’s even had the chance to- to live his own life and be happy.”

Widow seems to be… struggling, to find the right words. She doesn’t know what Oryx may or may not know, and she doesn’t want to cross any lines or cause any tension. Not when they’re trying to establish some sort of peace between the two Guardians.

“We… We have access to a ship,” it switches topics, back to focusing on the matter of leaving. “I didn’t really- I thought coming to Titan would be a bad idea, but maybe this will be good! Our ship is hidden, as it stands, just to keep it safe. It… is… admittedly stolen, after all. But it was that or be found immediately.”

Hm. From how little his Ghost will tell him, it seems Oryx may be more similar to this other Risen than appearances suggest. What other explanation is there other than he has done something awful in his past, as a reason for why Apple Cider will not give him a straight answer, including even a simple ‘I don’t know’?

Or, at least, something other Guardians would consider awful enough to antagonise him. To what extent? Oryx does not know, and would prefer not to find out.

Apple Cider’s shell twitches as it ponders the idea. “Well...if you already have a ship, and you don’t mind company, I think it could be great to work together!” Given how unlikely it is that either of them will come across another Guardian who won’t attack on sight, this seems like their best bet.

Two’s better than running alone, right?

Oryx seems...not nervous, but certainly wary about the idea, given how tense the other Lightbearer seems to be, but upon consideration, that might not be strictly because of him. He’s potentially already faced some of the challenges Apple Cider worries about, and Oryx is also very quick to key into the fact that the Risen could have already shot and killed his Ghost, with it so out in the open like this. Oryx could have done the same.

Apple Cider gives Oryx a couple little taps forward with its shell, “We should go now. Sooner or later they’re gonna realise your body isn’t there anymore, and things are gonna get chaotic--” a couple of jumpship engines roar past somewhere outside, “--and I’m gonna go with it being sooner.”

[solarkell]

"Definitely," Widow chirps, upon hearing the roar of an engine somewhere too close for comfort. She taps on Skolas' helm a few more times, chatters something to him. Skolas snorts irritably in response, and says something that Widow doesn't translate. Whatever it is, he seems frustrated, but she soothes his irritation with a few more chirps. At least enough to get him to stop grumbling and growling. Skolas turns back the way he came, waving one primary arm in a gesture for Oryx to follow him. Skolas says nothing more, but Widow scrambles up his helm to perch on the back of it, now. "We're headed to the ship, now," she explains. "Just keep close, and we'll get out of here quickly." It says, tapping its claws again and looking around somewhat anxiously. Truth be told, it has no idea what awaits them outside the rigs, but Widow feels as though that hardly matters, at this exact moment. She has not one, but two Guardians now, to usher out of this place safely. Which means keeping two giants out of sight, somehow. She looks at Oryx. She wonders just how they'll manage to go unseen, because to be seen means end of the line. And it's then that an idea dawns upon her. "I don't suppose Oryx here has had the experience of transmat yet, has he?"

[fiirecracker]

they do not blame the hesitance they see behind his eyes. it is a stranger. it is a terran, standing before the first risen kell. everything he has been told, undoubtedly, has painted them with one broad, horrific stroke. and he would not be wrong. it would not be a lie. humanity and eliksnikind have been battling with each other for centuries now.

great horrors have been committed on both sides. but now they strive for better. now, they offer a hand, and hope one reaches back.

“baron spider is determined to get what he wants. no bounty of the shore or beyond will be denied to him.” her hands clasp in front of her. his eyes soften. “and to form an allyship with a risen kell would be the greatest bounty there is. none would challenge him. not even the kell of house light.”

it speaks matter-of-factly, words quick, clipped. they are not chiding skolas so much as stating a fact. his cooperation would be a boon. even in name alone, allying with a risen kell would solidify house spider (and, perhaps, house light) as untouchable. it is a fact. but facts are not all there is in this world.

“my baron will be disappointed, of course. when he learns the truth, it will be a tossup if he believes my searching lackluster, or that i lied to him.” the corners of her mouth tighten. he shakes his head. “but i have a luxury many of my comrades do not. i am a lightbearer with ties to the last city, and the vanguard. there is little he can do to me that will not pass.”

[solarkell]

More ether clouds the clearing with another exhale, and the Kell clenches his hands into loose fists. Not out of any anger, no, but to still them as he thinks of what to possibly say next. He thinks, idly, that someone so sure they could get away with lying about something this significant has to be either very bold, or very, very stupid.

He doubts it's the latter, all things considered. That alone remains a factor of intrigue.

"I must, then, deny your Baron his bounty, because there is no bounty to be claimed, and he will declare himself a direct enemy of myself should he think otherwise. I am the Kell of Kells, not a pawn, ally to only my own, and most certainly not a prize to be claimed. It would be a scourge upon all that I am to ally myself with someone so cowardly as to let his men die so that he may have more material possessions."

His tone hardly needs to change for it to be clear the notion angers him. He knows better than to take it out on a mere emissary, but it makes the solar flame within him burn with rage. This Baron Spider is no friend to him, and he has made up his mind that it will remain as such.

He looks Thistle over one more time.

"If or when your Baron finds the truth, if he truly wishes to speak with me, he may do so himself. Bring guards with him if he must, I hardly care, but I've no interest in alliance with someone of his ilk otherwise."

Skolas chuffs, cracks his knuckles.

"However... You. Your boldness intrigues me. Should your Baron give you trouble, should that Vanguard refuse to come to your aid in any way, perhaps an agreement between my House and yourself can be made."

[netsprinter]

first post hiii im kenny im returning to tumblr rp and am looking for destiny rp blogs to follow :] like or reblog or do whatever if you see this (if you want)

[solarkell]

I'll try to get to owed replies here soon I just cant conjure the brain for it today

[solarkell]

DIRECTORY

This is an up-to-date list of my other RP blogs, and will be updated regularly as I inevitably make more blogs

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SIVIKS, LOST TO NONE - @losttonone

VARIKS, THE LOYAL - @nothingswarden

OC MULTIMUSE - @exceptionallight

[fiirecracker]

she has never been this close to a kell.

spider is no kell, and even he will admit to it. being a baron is simpler; no one comes looking for a lowly baron, and the growth the ether provides allows for better defenses than a captain. for spider, it is the perfect place to be in the eliksni hierarchy. at least in his mind. at least in his house.

but this... oh, now this is a kell. he stands at over twice its height, thrice as wide. the ether and solar wafting off of him is overwhelming; they can feel it ghost across their skin. oh, he's beautiful. oh, he's terrifying.

"you may be a stranger, but i am no fool," he replies. the hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. the void glimmers behind their eyes as she pushes it carefully outward. a flutter of surface thoughts, emotions. reminders.

he is cautious, wary— testing. a hum vibrates in their chest.

"he is determined to get what he wants because he wants it. because he wishes to have things before others. though my baron is a suave businessman, he hardly understands there is more to us than business and glimmer." reaching up, thistle tucks a strand of lavender behind her ear. "and also, i don't care to hear about more of his men dying to foolishness."

[solarkell]

Skolas scrunches up his face. There's still a hesitance to trust. To him, it makes no sense for someone to lie to their own Baron when there is nothing to be gained from it. Rare is the individual that acts for the good of others first and foremost.

He takes a knee, and Widow chirps in alarm. He hushes the Ghost, assuring her that he'll be just fine, he can defend himself if anything were to go awry. He's learned, from the tale of his past, that those who possess little strength often utilize wit or trickery instead.

He's learned that one can never be too careful.

"I see," he breathes, and though his jaw relaxes, his eyes remain narrowed in scrutiny. Is this Baron so careless about the deaths of his House that he would send one after another into the jungles? Into a fate from which- if they give Skolas no other option- they may not return?

He hates the thought of it. But if it is between one and many, he has an obligation to preserve his House above all else. These precious few have entrusted him, he will not allow them to come to harm.

"Your Baron strikes me as a thoughtless wretch." Skolas at last sneers. "All this fuss over business, glimmer, having things first. Greed. And to what end? Our people still die by Guardian hand day by day. Business." He hisses- But... his aggression is no longer directed at Thistle, at least.

"He would be a fool to send any more of his number here, I would see them slaughtered if I must." He chuffs, turning his gaze skywards for just a moment, before it settles once again upon her.

"...So, then... About you. When you return to your Baron with nothing to show, what will he say? Think? Do? Will you, Warlock, face consequences?"

[gaygxnslinger]

Skolas scowls. He lets out a low growl that rumbles deep in his chest until-

Widow chirps at him and crawls out of the fur mantle around his neck, up onto his helmet, and he understands. Hold your fire.

Very well, but he’s clearly not happy about it. He lowers the scorch cannon, and looks the other in the eyes. Even if Skolas does not understand the words spoken by the other Ghost, he recognizes at least something about the other- they are both terribly out of place, here, even if their respective kinds swarm the surface of Titan.

So the Kell of Kells silences himself, and allows Widow to do the talking. Maybe, just maybe, this meeting will prove fortuitous in some manner if he can just hold his tongue long enough to withhold any hostilities.

Widow’s voice is soft, light and airy, but holds some fervent urgency that leads to quick speech.

“As is he,” it chirps, tapping the front two legs on its shell on Skolas’ helm. “He… Well. Terran isn’t something he’s picking up easily, so I apologize for that much- but- but I think it’s pretty clear that we’re in the same metaphorical boat here so!- So, maybe we can work something out?”

Three unblinking eyes watch Skolas carefully, awaiting any signs of attack regardless of what the little Ghosts say. Oryx understands them, even if he is more inclined to speak in a different tongue that he can only conclude is what he would have spoken in originally, but nothing he knows can help here.

He remains quiet, ever so slowly retracting his wings now that the threat level has lowered.

Apple Cider twirls in the air. It’s much more cheerful and appreciative than its Guardian, clearly. “That would be great! We don’t have a way off of Titan without commandeering a ship, which I’m sure’ll only bring much more harm than good. We’re already lucky to come across you instead of-- well...basically any other Guardian.”

Yet another thing Oryx yearns to know. Apple Cider has been insistent on him not being seen by anyone else for the last few hours, why is this Risen different in any way, especially given how he had looked ready to fight at first notice?

“Your Guardian,” Oryx speaks. His voice is low, but confident, echoing like all Hive, “is not like the rest?” He does not expect a straight answer.

Everything he has been told is cherrypicked, Oryx knows well. And he cannot discern why, and despite the very obvious answer being he should not know, at least for now, he wants nothing more than to do just that.

[solarkell]

"...No," Widow sighs finally. "He isn't. In plenty of ways, from Light manifestation to... er... history." It goes on, fidgeting awkwardly.

"See, he's... His past life, is well known, to put it as simply as I can." She lifts one of her spidery legs to itch at her shell, contorting it oddly in the process before resting it against the Kell's helm again. She thinks, idly, how awful this would look if any other Guardian were to stumble upon all four of them here and now. Skolas and Oryx, potentially teaming up.

Thank the Light nobody else bears witness right now.

"And he's got... well... it's- it's a very, very special gift. His Light is different, it manifests in a way I myself have never seen before. I don't want people to think he's a threat before he's even had the chance to- to live his own life and be happy."

Widow seems to be... struggling, to find the right words. She doesn't know what Oryx may or may not know, and she doesn't want to cross any lines or cause any tension. Not when they're trying to establish some sort of peace between the two Guardians.

"We... We have access to a ship," it switches topics, back to focusing on the matter of leaving. "I didn't really- I thought coming to Titan would be a bad idea, but maybe this will be good! Our ship is hidden, as it stands, just to keep it safe. It... is... admittedly stolen, after all. But it was that or be found immediately."

[fiirecracker]

he straightens, and takes their breath away.

he is... magnificent. there is no denying that. he is every inch a kell; from the proud horns behind his back, the ruffle of mane, the strength in his shoulders, the— everything about this risen eliksni screams kell. even if he does not remember. even if he cannot understand. others do. thistle does.

he questions them, and thistle forces itself to come back to the present. this is not the time, nor is it the place, to contemplate what true kellhood means. she is here to do a job, and that is what she will do.

"a truce, for one," says the warlock. it bows his head, lowering its eyes demurely. "and all that comes with that. my baron is quite wealthy, in the eyes of many eliksni. he has resources beyond what house dusk could offer, and the men to back it up. he also has access to more, with the recent relocation of our house to the last city. it would be a boon."

it's the second half of the kell's perspective questions that makes him hesitate. that is a test. that is a threat wrapped in a promise disguised as an innocent question. they would do well to tread carefully.

"if you are asking if my baron sent me with a threat of violence up my sleeve, then the answer is no. i am not here to lay my hands upon a kell, nor am i here to challenge a new light for his place in the world. should you refuse to meet with my baron, i will tell him only that i could not locate you. that the rumors lied. that this pretender dare not show his face."

from beneath its lashes, thistle looks up at him.

"'lest he send another in my failure."

[solarkell]

Skolas takes a moment to visibly think this over, idly clicking his mandibles beneath his helm. Acceptance of resources this early into establishment would mean a debt farther down the road, doubtlessly. He may not recall the old days, but Widow knows her history well, and each tale holds a truth;

There is a balance of give and take. These types that honor the old ways, that call for parley and offer assistance to those regaining their stance... When they give, they often seek to take when they begin to feel they deserve it.

And they will take. And take. And take.

When winter starvation comes, even wolves have predators to fear.

Ether-smoke practically pours from the crack in his rebreather as Skolas releases a drawn-out breath. He has his mind made up, but... He finds he isn't ready to turn this ambassador away just yet. He has questions, he wants answers.

"I care not for your Baron's wealth nor resources," he begins. He leans down, examines the warlock more closely. It becomes clearer, at this shortened distance and better angle, that the crack in the rebreather aligns with a scar up the side of his face- One that could have been mistaken for an intricate chitin engraving if one is unfamiliar with the branching, spiderwebbing marks left behind by electrical currents. They snake up the left side of his face, crossing the leftmost eye and leaving it ever so slightly paler than the others.

"The offer is generous... But one I find myself more and more inclined to refuse."

Another ether-tainted exhale fills the air with the stench of ozone and burnt rubber.

"Answer me this, then; What motivates you, Thistle, to spin dishonesties to your Baron for the sake of a stranger?"

[solarkell]

peachtiiime

              despite being a sunbreaker, Sundog was never a fan of humidity. heat they could tolerate, but adding humidity to the equation felt like they were being soaked to the bone in grime and the atmospheric honey of sky sweat for mosquitos to feed on like a family buffet. thank god bug spray never went out of fashion despite the collapse, that at least took away some of the initial discomfort.               though they’d seen rainforests before, these lands were new to them. they rested in the same hemisphere of the Last City, so patrolling here for Vex activity was their immediate first mission of the day. if they were honest, they took it over being demanded to shut down glimmer drills and traverse thrall-infested caverns. both of them made them uncomfortable for vastly different reasons, on one hand you were taking resources that, while you knew was for the best, still felt wrong, and the other? well, YOU try making it through dark and wet tunneling systems filled with spindly human-sized things that want to bite and rip you apart as a gang.                that… and they appreciated how beautiful these forests were. serene, peaceful yet brutal in a small but natural manner of speaking. the song of wild birds, the call of what animals remained hidden within the flora. it made them more eager to send the vex packing, given what they would do if they were given free reign to squat here. they’d move quicker, but they didn’t want to disturb anything with the use of their sparrow (or alert any vex that happened to be in the area).               they eventually approach their destination; it was just across the opening in the forest and towards the mountains. they swear they can make out the distant sounds of their language like a conflux peeking from an organic canopy. what they don’t notice, however, is that they weren’t alone. and with a heavy snap of a branch, they whip around, and what they see causes them to fall on their ass as if they’d seen a ghost.               and… technically, that’s what it was.                 the Kell of Kells looms over them like a storm cloud, ready to strike with all its might. how is this possible? how can he be here when they thought they had killed him years prior?! this had to be some kind of trick, perhaps a vex hologram to deter trespassers, but why Skolas of all figures? and why were his eyes not the same color as they were prior? maybe it was a fault on the programmer’s part… he looked so real, though. they could smell him, too. there was no way even vex holograms were this good.               they stare back into all four of his golden red eyes, trying not to let themself fall back into that moment as their hand slowly slides towards their gun-               suddenly, a second ghost appears, and it’s one they expect even less so. they freeze and stare at her in shock as she begins to speak to them. normally they didn’t need a translator for eliksni like they used to, but now was the perfect time considering their shock had gob smacked them out of being able to register that he was speaking to them. her voice is practically the exact opposite of his, and- … wait, fuck, hold up, Skolas has a ghost at his side. why does Skolas have a ghost?????               their breath begins to steady, they swallow once between breaths and their tongue passes over their suddenly dry lips as their eyes look back and forth between them. their hand slowly pulls away from their mark’s holster, and they force their tone to be more even than would be normal in this type of situation,               ❝ m-me? I feel like I should be the one askin’ that. ❞ they pass their hand through their hair to prevent their bangs from falling into their eyes, the butt of their palm pressed to their forehead as they continue to stare. they’re still tempted to believe this isn’t real, but at this point that would be more idiotic than expecting to soak up water with a rock.

"And why is that?" His Ghost seems... a bit uncomfortable, voicing the hostile words that come from his mouth, but she tries hard to be just as assertive. It feels as though it must, in essence, replicate his tone to communicate what he means clearly.

Widow, while it has not met this Guardian, knows them well. It knows the tales of the Young Wolf, the so-called 'Traveler's Chosen' that's pulled off seeming impossible feats. It knows the hand played in the death of Skolas, the alliance with Variks, the...

Everything. Including how not all of it could be blamed upon the Guardian.

But oh, if Widow didn't want to snap and shriek and tell this other to get away from her beloved Guardian in order to ensure he never relives that past life. It is her duty, as his Ghost, to make sure that never happens.

Still, it manages to hold itself quiet unless Skolas speaks first.

"You wander here, grasp for your weapon when questioned, and think you have right to question my own presence in my territory. I can't help but feel as though your idea that you should be questioning me is... asinine, at best."

The stench of burning ether fills the air as he exhales, and red smoke wisps from a crack in his rebreather where a blow from a past battle had once hit. Which one, exactly, is anyone's guess.

"So answer me. Why are you here?"

[solarkell]

fiirecracker

“please—” thistle holds up their hand, watching where the little ghost skitters. its voice softens, “—i mean you no harm. either of you. i understand, the… the opposition you must have faced already. and you, little one, the questions you will endure, if you have not already. the scrutiny to come. but i swear, i mean you no harm.” he lets his hands fall back to in front of his abdomen, clasping them together. her eyes shift from guardian to hidden ghost, and then back to guardian once more. it softens. the kell of kells returns, as true as any. as true as thistle itself, complete with a ghost and the solar light pulsing beneath his chitin. how exhilarating. how fascinating. how lucky, for both himself and their employer. (for all eliksni, her mind whispers. another banner for them to rally behind, a chance to once again find unity where conflict would dominate.) they bend their knees and bob their head; a bow of sorts. a greeting. a reminder that he is kell, and it is but another dreg. “forgive my impudence, skolaskel. velask. i’m thistle, translator and archivist for house spider. my baron would send me to verify the stories, and offer the chance to parlay.” the void swims behind those eyes. their mouth twitches, just so, as barely-contained emotions play across the surface of the kell’s mind. scraps of easily picked hints, even without her abilities. “but you would not have me report this back to him. and i do not wish to make an enemy of the kell of kells.”

Skolas watches carefully in turn. The softening expression, the lowering arms, and it all continues to beg one question; Why? Why the interest? Why would another House send a delegate doomed to speak with a Dreg's accent? Why offer parlay?

And just what kind of House is ran by a Baron? In these days of power struggles and death, who would refuse so tempting an opportunity to call themself Kell? Is this Baron, like Skolas, different in this rite? Of course... Skolas never had an option. He was reborn a Kell, a Kell he will always be.

A Kell he is proud to be.

"You are right, that I would not have word of my presence spread so eagerly. That in doing so, you would make myself your enemy."

He lifts his head high to stand at his full height, just another reminder that even if he stands in the ashes of a past life burned away, he is still someone who demands respect. Even in this undeath, he is powerful and ferocious, and no lack of memory could take that away.

"Let me gain some perspective; Let us say, in the hypothetical that I agree to parlay, what is it your Baron has to offer? And what is to guarantee that should I refuse an offer made, I will return to my home unharmed and unbothered?"

[solarkell]

Starter for @gaygxnslinger ;; priv. muse Oryx

Titan. Coming here, Skolas knew, was a risk. It was a risk he had accepted. Freshly withdrawn from the grasps of Darkness, it was bound to be full of materials and supplies left behind House Dusk at the least- and somewhere to seek shelter in an ideal scenario.

Many, many of the rigs are left uncleared, untouched since the golden age... if not longer.

Widow, his beloved Ghost, serves as his guide through the dark. Its light searches each and every corner from its perch on his shoulder, and while it speaks no tongue Skolas knows, he understands the series of chirps and clicks it utters to him. Careful, here, there's a gap- Watch the low bar-

Something else is here!

Skolas halts in his tracks before the sealed door, and hefts his scorch cannon off his shoulders into his primary hands. He takes a deep breath, and exhales red-hot ether smoke in something that would have been reminiscent of fictional dragons had anyone but Widow witnessed it.

But the door opens, and drags the remnants of the smoke with it in some dramatic entrance. Skolas ducks through the entrance and prepares himself to fight if necessary.

[solarkell]

gaygxnslinger ;; Oryx

Rise, rise. Rise from the deep. His Ghost -- as it calls itself -- encourages him through the seas of methane, even as he is crushed repeatedly by the intense pressure, every time certain that these will be his final moments, and yet he finds himself continuing on after only seconds of nothingness. Is it longer? There is no way to tell. Finally, he pulls himself to the surface, the waves threatening to drag him back under over and over until he reaches a platform, only partially through his own will. Perhaps it is his strength that allows him to escape. Perhaps only the unfeeling mercy of the ocean. Now that he is free from the depths, his Ghost urges him into the nearby buildings, doing its best to unlock all doors in the way, although he does have to pry a few open himself. Once he’s safe, it speaks to him more: it’s name is Apple Cider, unless he wants to offer a new one. His name is Oryx. That is all it will tell of his past. There is no time to pry for more information. Someone is coming. Oryx readies himself to fight, wings spread wide to give himself a more intimidating stance as the potential attacker enters the room, but... “Wait!” The little Ghost puts itself between Oryx and Skolas. It senses the Light, and it glances between the two, “He’s just been Risen. There’s no need to fight.”

Skolas scowls. He lets out a low growl that rumbles deep in his chest until-

Widow chirps at him and crawls out of the fur mantle around his neck, up onto his helmet, and he understands. Hold your fire.

Very well, but he's clearly not happy about it. He lowers the scorch cannon, and looks the other in the eyes. Even if Skolas does not understand the words spoken by the other Ghost, he recognizes at least something about the other- they are both terribly out of place, here, even if their respective kinds swarm the surface of Titan.

So the Kell of Kells silences himself, and allows Widow to do the talking. Maybe, just maybe, this meeting will prove fortuitous in some manner if he can just hold his tongue long enough to withhold any hostilities.

Widow's voice is soft, light and airy, but holds some fervent urgency that leads to quick speech.

"As is he," it chirps, tapping the front two legs on its shell on Skolas' helm. "He... Well. Terran isn't something he's picking up easily, so I apologize for that much- but- but I think it's pretty clear that we're in the same metaphorical boat here so!- So, maybe we can work something out?"

[solarkell]

Starter for @peachtiiime ;; Sundog

Must other Guardians be so pesky?

Skolas exhales sharply as he looks down at his fellow Titan, and his eyes- turned orange by the burning ether that courses through him- narrow in something between distrust and anger. He is beyond his territory, here, where the trees have thinned and the sun beats down on his shoulders.

But he supposes Guardians will simply patrol wherever they see fit. That must be what this is, surely?

He realizes, now, that if the other does not speak Eliksni, he will need Widow to help him. How frustrating, those language barriers, but the terran tongue feels foul and difficult in his mouth, and it is difficult for even himself to understand. Learning it has been a long, slow process.

So he speaks, in that low, deep growl. And as he does, his Ghost, from wherever it hides, speaks in Terran just in case; her voice much meeker and softer than that of the Kell of Kells.

"What brings you here?"

[solarkell]

And if I made an OC blog.....

[solarkell]

Starter for @fiirecracker ;; Thistle

Intel can come from anywhere, everywhere. Anytime.

Whispers and rumors have passed through The Spider's web recently. Rumors of something that should have been long-since-dead. Something that burns red-hot and drives off anything that sets foot beneath the canopies he calls home. Bearing a familiar faded blue and the sigil of a House extinct.

But rumors are many things, including often untrue. Whispers, without any presentable evidence.

And yet... there's evidence, here. Scratched bark where tall horns have scuffed trees, parted undergrowth where something massive has made its way across, a scrap of faded blue threads caught on a branch, creating a trail that winds into the dense trees and away from the jungle's edge.

At the end of it stands the Kell of Kells, looking up through a gap in the canopy and idly puffing orange ether-vapor from a cracked rebreather. A Ghost in a shell with spider-like legs sits in the ruff of fur worn around his neck, comfortable as can be nested there.

"I know you're there," the Kell of Kells announces in his native tongue after a beat of silence, and lowers his gaze, though he doesn't yet turn it Thistle's way. No, he stands still, and basks in the dappled sunlight that surrounds him like a thin shroud. "You carry the scent of Eliksni, but you are not one of us. Why have you come here?"

[solarkell]

fiirecracker

the spider knows what they are capable of, and so he sends them out. she is nothing if not efficient. not just because of the light behind his eyes, or its firm understanding of the eliksni language. no, this lightbearer has something many of her comrades do not; the ability to twist the void and aim straight for the mind. a dangerous ability, and one that has often carved a great distance between them and other guardians. but efficient. necessary, even, in its line of work. it can take what others would refuse to give. that makes them invaluable to the spider. that makes her dangerous. he follows the trail left by the rumored return, knowing not what the truth will be. a risen kell? possible, given the recent revelations about savathun and her ilk. probable? now that... that is the question. and if it is true? well, the spider wants him. alive. the warlock emerges through the underbrush, wincing as his hand catches the edge of a sharpened stick. her fingers curl around the wound. light pulses. it is gone before the blood ever stained its robes. it is instinct, certainly nothing they considered. not when he stands before them. tall, proud, alive. resplendent, she thinks, and feels the air pulled from her lungs. "apologies," says the risen in the kell's native tongue, clasping his hands in front of it. their lips pull into a smile. they bow their head in greeting. it is hard not to look at him. "i did not mean to intrude. i have... heard rumors, of your return. i wanted to know the truth."

To hear his own language from the mouth of this stranger is... surprising, to say the least. It shows, in the way his orange eyes narrow thoughtfully, and in how he slowly turns to face him. Widow chirps, and Skolas tucks her safely further into the mantle.

"You must be bold." Skolas comments, his low growl laced with a cautious tone. He's making it clear enough, he does not trust it, and will not simply accept the presence of another. For anyone to turn up here, and be polite- excited, even- rather than afraid, or at the least cautious? An oddity amidst oddities. Something to not be taken lightly.

When one has a fledgeling House to look out for, one must be careful, after all.

"You have your answer," he adds after a moment of scrutinizing silence. "Now what will you do with it? Run? Tell tale? Spread word amidst the stars that the Kell of Kells walks again?" It's more of a challenge than a question, an unspoken promise; I am ready to hurt you.

"Or do you, speaker of my tongue, fancy yourself something kinder and smarter?"

[solarkell]

Starter for @gaygxnslinger ;; priv. muse Oryx

Titan. Coming here, Skolas knew, was a risk. It was a risk he had accepted. Freshly withdrawn from the grasps of Darkness, it was bound to be full of materials and supplies left behind House Dusk at the least- and somewhere to seek shelter in an ideal scenario.

Many, many of the rigs are left uncleared, untouched since the golden age... if not longer.

Widow, his beloved Ghost, serves as his guide through the dark. Its light searches each and every corner from its perch on his shoulder, and while it speaks no tongue Skolas knows, he understands the series of chirps and clicks it utters to him. Careful, here, there's a gap- Watch the low bar-

Something else is here!

Skolas halts in his tracks before the sealed door, and hefts his scorch cannon off his shoulders into his primary hands. He takes a deep breath, and exhales red-hot ether smoke in something that would have been reminiscent of fictional dragons had anyone but Widow witnessed it.

But the door opens, and drags the remnants of the smoke with it in some dramatic entrance. Skolas ducks through the entrance and prepares himself to fight if necessary.