#paracausaly

[notpetals]

@paracausaly​ said: “ haven’t you heard? i have no soul. ” /from drifter

   “A notion I am ready to believe.” 

   Though, did any of them have one? All those who’d been blessed by the Light had once been among the dead (save an exception), and plenty took to the belief that the soul left when death claimed the body. What a curious thing to ponder where far more important topics lay unanswered. 

   “Guess we got somethin’ in common.”

[cybled-a]

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙶𝙾?   /   @paracausaly

there's a sense of impending doom that lingers around them, a death pall. it gnaws at her heels like a pack of hungry dogs, and she can feel it in the way he touches her now, matching fear for fear. they tear at each other with desperate urgency, all teeth and nails and ecstasy mingled with deathgrief, and afterwards she dreams of dark shadows and snakes eating themselves, dreams herself alone at the edge of the universe with nothing but a jade coin between her fingers. 

this isn't right, something whispers inside of her. he's awake when she sits up, the light that coruscates across her face limning his. there's a hole inside of her. it had been growing unnoticed long before namqi died. and wu ming had been filling it slowly, bit by bloody bit. pieces of her she hadn't known went missing. hadn't known to look for. still doesn’t fully understand. staring into his eyes now, another piece sinks into place, but not the whole thing and the shape of what is still missing terrifies her.

wordlessly, she gets to her feet, begins to dress. behind her wu does the same, tugging on a pair of pants. as she looks around for her boots he pauses. there is the slightest tremor in his voice when he speaks, words thick with some unspeakable grief.

" would you like to dance before you go? " 

a memory threads around her fingertips like so much red string, tangling tight enough to cut off circulation. she clutches at it nonetheless. 

her feet are bare, the sand beneath her soles still warm from the desert sun that had long since slipped beneath the edge of the horizon. above their heads the dome of the sky is a hazy gradient of amethyst and navy, a carpet of stars blanketing them. they call to her, but tonight she ignores them happily. when she steps into his arms her sandsilk trousers shift comfortingly around her thighs, the wind sighing through her tunic, her hair. he's dressed similarly, their armor shed in the sand next to their tent. some distance away from them is the gentle speech and laughter of their allies and the people they are protecting, but she ignores the call of them too. happily, happily. 

gol's shell twists and expands, the tender brassy sounds of a pre-golden age song filling their ears. orin rests her cheek against his chest and listens to the seashell sound of his heart beating slow and easy, watches the way her lilac hand fits into his sun darkened one. in the moonlight they both appear the same bluewashed color. the pair of them covered in callus and scar tissue. and still so soft somehow. they sway in slow circles, leaving drifts in the sand in their wake, and he rests his cheek against the top of her head. orin opens her mouth to say something, to say i love y—

she inhales sharply, blue eyes flicking from wu ming's outstretched hand to his dark eyes. this isn't right, something whispers inside of her. this isn't who we're supposed to be. 

she takes his hand anyways. it's shaking beneath her touch, until he grips her tight. not painfully. but she can sense the fear he wrestles into place. like a man half drowning, trying desperately not to drag someone else down with him. orin rests her cheek against his chest ; his heart is racing, pounding thickly against her ear as if begging to be released. the same song is playing, from a tape he has and she shivers with deja vu. it's full of static and noise this time, but she recognizes it nonetheless. 

hold me close and hold me fast—

this isn't who we're supposed to be.   

" who are you? "   she whispers it into the choking darkness, watching their hands holding tight to each other as they sway back and forth.   who am i? 

he doesn't give answer ; she doesn't expect one. isn't sure she wants one just yet. they're there, at the edge of it all. and she has never been so afraid to leap over the edge of a cliff as she is now.

instead, she holds on to him a little longer. sways with him in the dark. there is a deeper love here, coursing slow and warm, far beneath the surface. she'd only felt the edges of it before. now she wades ankle deep through it, closer and closer to the cliff edge. tears stream down her face, soak against his skin. he kisses the top of her head, leaves his lips there, breathes in the scent of her clean hair. give your heart and soul to me—

[strazhisveta]

@paracausaly​:  “We cannot wait for the threats to arrive. Someone has to meet them.”

the concept of osiris abandoning the tower to face the apparent threat from the vex sent shivers down his mechanical spine. he was the commander of the vanguard, for him to outright walk away... the city would disgrace him. saint knew it, and he couldn’t just stand by and allow it to happen. with his helm cast aside, a strong hand rests on osiris’s shoulder, tyrian eyes narrowing a bit as he stood firm. 

“you know you cannot leave the city, osiris. neither of us really can. they need protecting, the children, the families, and those who are unfortunately alone... leaving them, abandoning them when they look up to us, is asking to be cast aside like a traitor.” concerned words left him as he sighs. to saint, it was hard to decide if he believed in osiris’s concerns, or worried the past was haunting the warlock. for now, he remains neutral, and instead moved his hand from the other’s shoulder to grasp his hand softly.

“waiting is sometimes better, the threat may not even exist... you are panicking over possible delusions, osiris. just relax, i can handle your business for the day if need be.” a gentle offer, he was the metaphorical right hand man for the vanguard commander, after all. osiris means the world and the stars to the titan vanguard, he will not let anything come to harm him - even if he was taking the damage instead. he is saint’s sun, even if saint-14 won’t admit it to a single soul.

[beautifulics]

paracausaly said: " hey moondust! quit jackin' my comms. tryin' t' talk t' our mutual friend 'ere. " /because i would like some drifter/eris banter pls

      though the coms, eris was scoffing loudly —— his presence was far from being a welcoming one, and his voice, it merely lead her to feel such a DISGUST rising in her stomach. with a sigh, she had considered ignoring him for a fleeting moment but when he gave her such a nickname, she knew she had to give him a piece of her mind.  

      ❛ you’re the one interfering, rat. ❜ such was he, feeding of scraps and the kindness of the guardian in question. but if the drifter would think he would go without supervision, whenever it involved the guardian, eris would be GLAD to prove him wrong. ❛ what do you think you’re doing ? ❜ 

@paracausaly​ !! 

[cybled-a]

𝙸𝚃'𝚂 𝙼𝚄𝚁𝙼𝚄𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝙰 𝙱𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷, 𝙰𝙽𝙶𝚁𝚈 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙿𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙴𝙳 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙰𝚃 𝙾𝙽𝙲𝙴. 𝚁𝙾𝙶𝚄𝙴 𝚆𝙾𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙸𝙵 𝚂𝙷𝙴'𝚂 𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶, 𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝚆𝙰𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙼𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙾𝙸𝙻 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙱𝚁𝙰𝙸𝙽. 𝙸𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃'𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙴 𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙴'𝙻𝙻 𝙻𝙴𝚃 𝙷𝙸𝙼𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵 𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙰𝙽𝙸𝚃𝚈 𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽. “ 𝙹𝚄𝚂' 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃' 𝙼𝙴, 𝙳𝙰𝙼𝙼𝙸𝚃. ”   /   @paracausaly

the ennead are not wholly omnipotent, though they attempt to give the appearance of such. impossible, to be in all places at all times and to know all things, even for such as they. but they are present enough to hear the rogue when he speaks, and wicked enough to carry it to her ears amid whispered half truths and twisting falsehoods. 

the emissary has no wish to stick rot to him any longer, at least not without direction from those she serves. any cruel delight that could have been gleaned from such acts had been whittled away over time by the one still fighting inside of her. valiant efforts. doomed and useless, she thinks. they are one in the same, after all. aren’t they? the emissary has simply transcended. but this? this interference is a nuisance. it makes orin a nuisance, stoking the flame of rebellion within her.  

dredgen. 

her disembodied voice is a hollow farce of orin’s, lacking her fire, lacking her life. she wields it like a noose, slipping it loose around his throat to tighten at her leisure. 

you beg for that which you will never again find. there is no leaving the nine. they have consumed her, body and soul ; what you see before you is all that is left of her, all they require. 

and so she materializes before him, sweeping through a portal that shows only a white wasteland, scoured by cool wind and sharp sand. her robes ripple in that wind, her feet—one whole, and one broken—swaying numbly. eyes of white sweep down to look at him where he stands, to drink in the fury that lines his tired features. the nine whisper lies and treachery, deceit. 

He never cared for you, not truly. 

HE ONLY WISHED TO USE YOU, TO SEEK US OUT. 

the dredgen is selfish as he has been throughout his lives as he will always be

Do not forget his falsehoods, pawn. 

beneath the deep cold of her marble skin, the emissary can feel the burning maul of orin, can taste ash on her own tongue. her hands shiver, fighting against the fury of the sunbreaker. fighting against the way she stretches and curls beneath her skin, thrashing serpentine, searching for a way out, a way free. the emissary will not grant it to her.  

do you understand yet, dredgen? orin will never return. 

[cybled-a]

@paracausaly  /  𝙸 𝙰𝙻𝙼𝙾𝚂𝚃 𝙰𝙳𝙼𝙸𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄.

you really love biting off more than you can chew, don’t you? gol thinks quietly to himself as he hovers above his lightbearer, little cogs spinning with impatience. the light in her eyes still hasn’t gone out, even though her body is a broken mess. violet blood leaks from the corners of her mouth, still split in a wide smile. her sharp teeth gleam in the high noon sun refracted through the wet mists that billow and cloud the air. and still her chest rises and falls and rises again. he considers briefly killing her himself. he’s never had to do that before though… his shell spins a little faster as he looks around for eli. 

they’d been scouting half a day ahead of the rest of the guard, choosing the paths with least conflict, laying signals for the small column to follow. this is fallen territory, contested between a pair of ravenous houses. this meant slow moving and stealth. something orin can see eli is very good at. 

how come we never see his ghost? it makes me not want to trust him.   gol whispers ( unnecessarily ) through their link. orin glances to her left through the trees where the other titan walks, scout rifle in hand, fifty feet away from her.   how did you even know he was a lightbearer?

she shrugs, smiling.   “ it was a good guess, gol. wasn’t entirely sure until i danced with him and i— ”   brows furrow, empty grip flexing.   “ i just felt it. his light i mean. ”

they carry on in silence a little longer, boots crunching over the pine needle strewn ground. the whole forest is a tinder box, waiting for the next lightning storm to set it all ablaze. she glances at him again before focusing her gaze ahead.  it’s only been a couple of weeks since she had convinced him to join the pilgrim guard, and orin had learned very little about him since then. and yet, she has a good feeling. and she always trusts her gut. 

“ we never see his ghost because he’s careful not to expose it unnecessarily, ”   she adds. and then, teasingly:   “ maybe you should come out a little less. ”

hey, i only come out when i know it’s safe. you’re the one always flinging yourself headfirst into trouble! 

orin lets slip a bark of laughter before biting her lip. no enemies in sight, but you can never be too safe. he’s looking at her when she glances over again, though from this distance, even with her sharp predator eyes, she can’t make out his expression. she signals with arms and hands ahead of them towards the sound of rushing water. rest? he nods, and they angle towards each other and walk on together in companionable silence. 

they both stop at the same moment, their arms swinging up to hit each other in the chest. it would be comical if orin’s senses weren’t ringing with danger, pointed ears flicking in search of the source, pupils blown wide. beside her eli is much the same.

wordlessly, as if they’d been doing this for years and not a handful of days, they split up, crouch walking through the trees and underbrush in a shallow arc towards the growing sounds of a waterfall. 

the source of most of the noise is the river they’d forded early that morning, glacier water tumbling over a sheer cliff face a hundred meters tall. the trees around the edges had been cleared, and a steel dock built along the edge, jutting out over the empty space. a ketch dock, gol notes. but no ketch in sight. 

there is, however, a spider tank in the middle of repairs sitting on the dock. a dozen dregs. a half dozen vandals, a captain. and a baroness, squatting beside a servitor, a trio of shanks buzzing above her head. most importantly, there are crates of supplies. weapons and armor, sorely needed. and glimmer. programmable matter.

she can’t see exactly where eli’s gone, but before she can turn to move back, faint movement catches in the corner of her eye. orin stills completely, pupils narrowing at the strange refraction until a vandal in glassy stealth, its armor bending light around itself, leaps towards her with a loud snarl. the whole area erupts into chaos. 

in a single fluid motion she pulls her war hammer from her back and swings it around one handed, sending the vandal’s body crashing against the solid body of the closest tree. the entire trunk shudders violently, pine needles raining down a moment later. she brings the hammer head down on the vandal’s neck for good measure before sprinting towards the camp now buzzing with activity. 

two of the shanks explode. a half dozen quick sharp shots follow and she watches the faces of three dregs and a vandal implode in a gout of ether.   “ christ eli, leave some for me, ”   she complains over the comms, sprinting faster.

“ oh you’lll have plenty, ”   he answers, and she can hear that half smile of his in his voice even as he jogs his way closer. his figure cuts a dark shape in her peripheral vision. bright shock energy flashes in the air, and her focus snaps back to their prey. 

there is plenty left by the time she closes the distance. flames lick up the haft of her hammer and her eyes fill with golden wrath as they lock onto the baroness still a dozen yards away. nearly every dreg that darts out from behind cover to stab through her shields is shot down before she can so much as lift a fist in response, every other vandal she faces crumples before she can lay a hand on it. orin feels elation race through her at the thought of someone having her back so readily in a fight. of having someone at her side that shoots so well he clears half her path for her. they leave a small wake of death behind them as they move forward. 

the servitor rises before her with a guttural analog noise, its plates flexing as it sends blasts of void energy at her. she runs through the hits, hissing at the shock of pain as her shields are depleted, and barrels her flaming shoulder straight into its eye. it falls apart in smoldering pieces as she tumbles through, sliding to a stop on padded knees, chest heaving with exertion. ahead of her the baroness screams her fury. the sound sends a chill down her spine. 

“ she’s gonna get the tank, ”   eli says conversationally in her ear, even as he tangles with the captain. orin pauses for a split second to watch ; good with a blade as he is with a gun. as casually as if they were having a noon picnic orin responds: 

“ not if i get to it first. ”

it’s a close thing. and in the end, she sees only one way as the fallen leader scrambles over a tank leg towards the opening...

“ orin! ”    

but she’s already over the edge of the dock, falling through open air, body snared with the large eliksni. the baroness howls with rage in a tongue orin does not understand yet, clawing at her back. orin laughs, the thrill of the drop exhilarating, the pain of those digging claws fueling her adrenaline. she only just manages to get the baroness beneath her before they hit the rocky beach of the waterfall at the bottom. 

it takes gol fifteen minutes to make it down to her, eli only a handful of minutes behind him. she’d just barely managed to roll over onto her back, watching with hazy eyes as gol mutters about a hard reset being easier, and wouldn’t she please just give up and die already? the sound of boots crunching on wet pebbles pulls her blue eyes to him. the shock is beginning to set in ; she can feel her heart racing a rabbit rhythm in her chest. somehow the sight of him is reassuring. 

“ i almost admire you, ”   eli says, standing over her where she lays in a pool of ether and blood. orin only grins, all sharp teeth. 

“ shut up and—shoot me alrea— ”

the shot rings out before she can finish the sentence, life leaving her in one last gasp. 

when she comes to in a blaze of light he’s still standing there, watching her. holds his hand out for her to grasp, pulls her to her feet. his mouth set in that lopsided grin like she’s the craziest person he’s ever met. 

“ what? never been cliff diving eli? you should try it sometime. ”   

he only laughs in response. the sound of it leaves her smiling to herself every so often the whole climb up. they spend less than an hour stamping out the smoldering fires sparked by gunfire and light and picking over the supplies, stopping every handful of minutes to stare into the blue dome of the sky for any signs of a ketch approaching. they strap as much as they can carry to each other before deciding to heave the rest over the cliff face. eli strips the spider tank of parts he wants, the pair of them destroying it and the dock it stands on with solar light after. the smoke is a beacon anyone or anything could see for miles around ; they set their boots in the direction of the guard and walk on together.

okay. he’s good in a firefight. but i still don’t trust him,   gol mutters to orin. she laughs again, quick and quiet. this time she’s close enough to eli to make out the expression on his face ; it looks a little like wonder.

[cybled-a]

 @paracausaly said: ❛ we make choices. and sometimes, they lead us to do things, terrible things, things we don’t wish to do. things we’d do anything not to. ❜ / drifter to orin :))))))

orin wants to scream. she wants to cry. beat her marble fists against the stone until everything crumbles to their smallest atoms. dust returns it ever returns. but she doesn’t move a single centimetre. is he talking about her when he speaks? or himself? when she looks at him it’s not just dark matter she sees sifting through his body. a red ribbon, tied to his wrist. she refuses to look down at her own. 

“ you make it sound like it isn’t a choice in the end, ”   orin finally answers, and her voice is a sharp hiss, some halfway point between her true voice and the emissary’s. it hurts her throat. it hurts everything. and already the noose is slipping back around her throat. it feels as if her whole being is solidifying, crystallizing in a hard shell around herself. like a cold brine filled lake freezing around her. 

how badly does she want to break free. 

how terrible that she must wait. 

orin made her choice.    the emissary’s voice is cold, coiling like a snake through the air. orin’s eyes flash in a blaze of blue rage, and in her minds eye she reaches the tips of her fingers to the surface of the freezing lake.   as did wu ming. 

[notpetals]

@paracausaly​ said: drifter is Looking.

   Yor has since reclined back, brought his ankle to rest just over his knee. Certainly not the way he’d expect something like this to happen but, hey, it is something. Good, bad? He can’t really tell. The fact that Drifter is staring at him might be leaning into the former. 

   “You like what you see?”