Names are exchanged, and Lodi makes a few observations about the Guardian.
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Fascinating.
It’s the first word that appeared in Lodi’s mind when he first saw him. Fascinating that there are other visitors, fascinating that they’re from Earth of all places. Fascinating that the man he’d flashed a weapon at took off his helmet to reveal iridescent blue skin. Fascinating that, despite such a guarded first impression, the ‘Guardian’ (as Ms. Rey had called themselves) is so quick to let bygones be bygones. For as quickly as things have developed, Lodi can’t help but follow such an easygoing lead.
Proper introductions were exchanged once the fighting died down long enough to regroup. Ms. Rey wasted no time in splitting off from them, (a shame – he’ll have to try and catch her sometime later) leaving Lodi alone with the Guardian for the moment.
A million questions skip across his mind like stones on a lake – Who are you? Why is your skin blue? Are your eyes supposed to be glowing like that? How did you get here from Earth? What are you doing here? Your skin is blue, for crying out loud! – and it takes everything in him to reign in his train of thought. Best to start with the simplest ones first.
“You made pretty quick work out there, Guardian.” Lodi pauses for a moment, glancing quizzically at his companion. “I mean, is ‘Guardian’ the right thing to call you? I don’t think I actually got your name back there.”
This gets a laugh out of the Guardian. His nose crinkles, corners of his lips upturned to emphasize the resting permasmile Lodi’s seen on him since the moment they’d met.
“‘’preciate the formalities, but you don’t gotta use ‘em around me,” he says, casually pointing a thumb toward himself. “Just call me Paz.”
“Paz,” Lodi echoes, like he’s testing the name on his tongue. It’s short and sweet. Straightforward. Fitting, based on the impression he’s gotten so far. He smiles back at him. “Alright. Paz it is.
“Hm. Spanish word for ‘peace.’” – A pause. Lodi’s brow furrows. – “Kind of ironic, considering the way you work. No offense.”
Paz raises his hands out. Guilty as charged. “Hey, if you can’t hear me comin’ from a mile away, I did my job wrong.”
He’s a Titan, Lodi comes to learn. A specialist in cleaving a path forward on the battlefield, the stalwart shield against those who wish harm upon others. Quite the fitting description; Paz was practically throwing himself into the fray back there, hungering for a fight in the first place he could find it. If Lodi didn’t know any better, he’d think he was speaking to a madman.
But out of combat, he completely transforms. The hulking 6-ish feet of armor that stood Lodi down just outside the Caldera holds a sunny optimist of a man. The scar that rakes across his face just misses the crow’s feet proudly etched next to his eyelids. Not to mention the rhythmic tap-tap-tapping of Paz’s free hand rattling into the thorns of his leg armor. It’s just as intentional as it is absentminded – a musician, perhaps?
The conversation does much to wash his initial nerves away. Paz rattles off a couple stories from Earth (which he bookends with a promise to save him a seat on his jumpship, should he need a ride home – an offer Lodi plays off as casually as he is able), and Lodi returns the favor with a rundown of the state of Kepler. For as many problems as both he and the Aionians are facing, he can’t deny that there’s been at least a few curiosities that’ve piqued his interest, the Eliksni in particular.
“Fascinating, aren’t they?” Lodi can’t help himself when the conversation wanders in that direction. “Did you know their language structure’s similar to Finnish?”
The tapping on Paz’s armor stops. His left brow perks up in curiosity. “You a language guy or somethin’?”
“Hah, something like that. I’m a translator.”
Paz’s other brow joins its twin at the top of is forehead. Though his eyes remain closed, (seriously, how does he see with such a squinty expression…?) Lodi can feel the spark in them as clear as day.
“I got a few people back home I need you to meet,” he says, and Lodi can’t help but admire the earnest giddiness lacing his words. “Freakin’ experts in Eliksni. Probably a lil’ more welcoming than the Exiles, too."
“Colleagues of yours?”
“Friends,” Paz elaborates. Then, with the slightest hint of knowing mischief, he corrects himself: “Family.”
Paz is gone before he can prod any further; a passing gaggle of scientists is already pulling him aside to assist with the latest wave of Vex getting a little too close to the settlement. Lodi gives him an encouraging nod as Paz waves apologetically over his shoulder. Of all the things he’s taken note of about the Guardian, this is what catches Lodi’s attention the most.
