#artiviend

[artificise]

(kissies from wifey..

[kittppuccino]

@artificise waves at you I succeeded in finishing the Artiviend piece :3

[artificise]

(oops, made her slay

[artificise]

i don’t have a lot of art spoons so take an artiviend sketch hehe any artiviend content is good content

[artificise]

(randomly got the mental image of viend taping his cannon hand inside a pillow so he doesn’t knock arti out when they sleep LMAO

[artificise]

It was often that Cynthia worked into the night- well, as close as 'night' got on the Safe Travels; to simulate the day and night cycle of Earth upon the ship to ensure proper schedules and healthy crew-mates, the internal lights dimmed for approximately seven and a half hours within the sleeping quarters. In her quarters, illuminated by holographic screens and monitors affixed to sleek modern desks, the Artificer had been having another sleepless night. Brain too busy, body too restless- Cynthia quieted her mind in the ways she knew how. Cataloguing and checking inventory for missing items, and writing consistent reports of her activity for both her own sake and the High Court; her elders had been overjoyed to hear of her after five years of complete radio silence, fearing the worst for one of their younger initiates.

The internet signal on the Safe Travels was faster than the Contact Light, that was for sure- dexterous fingers tapping upon holographic displays with satisfying clicks upon contact with every letter touched, words joining together with the slightest of delays. Most of her documents consisted of logs of her explorations upon Petrichor V; which were filled with long-winded sentences describing the wildlife, archaic technology and of memories that she could recall before her confinement within the ice. Cynthia had since learned to return to the Safe Travels by nightfall- there was a reason that the creatures native to the planet tended to burrow underground during the night.

On the screen before her, she had been perusing old logs from the Contact Light, specifically from that brutally cold night- recovered from her old helmet. Logs of her younger self, musing over her actions- of killing Providence, of ensuring the deaths of the Contact Light weren't in vain, alongside struggling with her actions, and how they betrayed her faith- before slowly succumbing to the cold before her ENV suit initiated the emergency crystallisation in order to save her life.

The next thing she remembered was her delayed awakening, eyelids snapping open as a delayed panicked shriek tore out of her throat- her last vocalisation from five years before. She remembered stumbling into the arms of a purple-hued individual, frozen legs giving out from beneath her, sluggish and cold.

Tearing herself from her memories, Cynthia let out a soft exhale into the dark, index and thumb rubbing at a temple. Quietly, she turned in her chair, a small smile on her lips as she gazed upon that very same individual, curled up in her quarters, nested under heated blankets with his cemented helmet swirling with hues of magenta and dark. A hard night for the both of them, it seems- a year and a half after her release, and things were different, yet felt much the same.

A hand extended from her side, a thumb rubbing the glassy material of his mottled helm. A soft chuckle left the Artificer as tired clawed digits wound around her forearm, unconsciously nuzzling into her palm with a quiet otherwordly murmur.

"I.. suppose I never did.. properly thank you, did I?"

【...」

"...thank you."