orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

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IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

Who: Anyone, everyone? Aoba and Declan to start.
What: Destiny
When: After the House of Wolves, before The Taken King.
Where: Earth, The Last City, The Tower and beyond.
Warnings: Could be sorta zombie stuff (Hive), could be xenophilia? I dunno. Gen warnings, yo.

Earth. 700 years into the future, humanity is all but gone, huddled in a massive city in the mountains, surrounded by gargantuan walls and living in the shadow of the slumbering, perhaps dead, body of The Traveler. The massive being of benevolence and light that came to Earth bearing gifts of knowledge that would bring about the longest Golden Age in Terran history, hovering in geostationary orbit over The Last City of men, protecting what is left from The Darkness beyond with the remains of it's Light.

For those on Earth it is a well-known story. With The Traveler's dying breath it created Ghosts, fragments of living Light that in turn resurrected men and women across the galaxy, bringing to bear the Guardians, warriors to fight the Darkness. Earth and all the nearby planets are populated by humans, the Awoken, Exos and a variety of species of ever more distant origins, some less generous than others. The Guardians make their headquarters in a colossal spire at the edge of The Last City. There, in the Tower, the Vanguard and other factions of humanity work together to hold the line and fight the Darkness and every other threat to the known universe. The little understood Guardians rarely venture beyond the Tower, preferring the company of their brothers and sisters in arms, but all look to the Tower as a beacon of hope.

There is danger and adventure to be had; the likelihood of death and the possibility of rebirth. The future is uncertain, but all who walk in the Light know the Darkness is coming, and the wise life to the fullest.

[ Destiny Wiki ]

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"Very," Mac answered as if the universe aligned for Desire. "It's Guardians only. We die sometimes. It started out just as offensive and defensive Sparrow training, then we started doing it for entertainment. It makes a lot of money, and is a lot more enjoyable than doing the Crucible," the Guardian nodded, rising from his seat and waving Aoba along after him.

"I ride sponsor free, too, so I pocket all the profits. Some of us aren't as good at saving as Declan and have really expensive taste."

Whatever curiosity Reason had promptly recoiled, while Desire’s predictably sharpened. Looked like they were going to stay in their current configuration for a while longer, and Desire wasn’t complaining. More time up front for him, more time for ‘Aoba’ to think about what he was going to say to Declan overall.

“Fun and lucrative,” Desire confirmed he was paying attention. “Nice. I just might get nostalgic here.”

"Hey man, too bad you're not a Guardian. I'm looking to start a team, but I'm pretty picky. Declan is actually one of the best Sparrow racers I know, but he won't compete. He doesn't like Crucibles either, I'm sure you know. Me? I love winning."

“A man after my own heart,” Desire drawled, apparently confident enough to pseudo-flirt even with his affections for Declan firmly expressed. “The thing I did was closer to your Crucible, though. We call it Rhyme.”

Reason proved he hadn’t completely tuned out, at that. A wash of confusion came up from behind—and from a sharp look from Ren peeking out of the satchel, too.

Hey, Desire could only smirk towards those background thoughts. Just because you’ve forgotten a bunch of shit doesn’t mean I have. ...Or at least, I remember more than you do, anyway.

“I went by ‘Sly Blue’, then. Undefeated. Good times.”

"Rhyme? That doesn't sound like much of a Crucible game. Sounds like rap battles or something," Mac snorted, though he wasn't doubting Aoba had possibly done any fighting in the past. He really had nothing to gain by lying, since even if he did, it wasn't to the degree of the Crucible or SRL. Of course, nothing was; normal humans typically avoided putting their lives on the line for fun and profit.

"Sly Blue is a sweet handle, though. I'd come up with a cool name but I feel like naming myself makes it cheesy. Someday someone will coin something and I'll just go by that like some edgy badass. Life goals and all," the Warlock announced, tapping his temple and winking as they passed back out towards the docking bay and his ship.

"If you get bored and want someone to train with or anything, you can always hit me up if Declan is being a wet rag. There's a few Guardians, we all get together and do lighter stuff. Sometimes just silly things like...volleyball..." Mac gestured spiking a ball before skipping a few steps to close the distance to his ship, the bay door hissing open.

"That actually reminds me. You obviously have some issues being up front with Declan about things, but I would worry less about possibly hurting his feelings and more about being really honest with him. Even if you think it's harsh. It's way easier for him to swallow a hard truth than confusing silence or misguided attempts at softening deliveries that only end up causing misunderstandings because he interprets things wrong. I've known him since he was risen, so I've picked up some of his little...I dunno. Issues? But yeah...it goes back to him doing too much for you."

"Just be straight without getting angry and I think you'll have a way easier time communicating wants and needs. It's like...you know how he's kinda slow, right? I don't mean stupid, I'm being serious right now. Like...Takes things at his pace and thinks a lot more than some people about thinks that's usually kinda quick for them? When you get real direct with him, he can get a little anxious just 'cause it's a little heavy, but when you take away all the pretense and the fancy dancing around words and stuff, it's a lot easier for him to catch up and he tends to understand better. Sometimes, when you're just trying to be nice to him, you're making it harder for you both. Food for thought."

“So you want me to be patient, blunt, find a middle ground, and give him time. Shit,” Desire half groaned as he followed along, glancing one more time at the shimmering hull of Mac’s ship before they were stepping up inside of it. He put a hand up to the back of his neck, stretching it one way and then the other, but the tension he—Aoba—felt wasn’t one to be relieved so simply.

What if Declan could talk to them both at once? It could probably be done. Reason didn’t remember what they were really capable of, and Desire hadn’t done much to enlighten him yet, but it was possible. Maybe Reason would feel more confident with backup.

And if Declan freaked out, well then…would that just have to count as a hard truth to swallow? They were one person, but divided. A dual singularity. He had to truly accept Aoba as he was, but it was Reason who’d had the bulk of interactions with him so far.

(And Reason, for one, recognized a moment's insecurity when he felt it.)

"Well...uh...yeah, actually. Substitute honest or straightforward for blunt and you've essentially described a healthy relationship. Not that I would know," Mac coughed softly and offered a very nonapologetic grin before leading Aoba through the cargo and into the ship proper.

The two Guardians could not have been more different.

While Declan's home and ships were utilitarian and spartan, at best, Mac's ship felt like a home, and a very well-lived in one, at that. It wasn't dirty by any stretch, though a bit cluttered, but the mess was clearly organized. Color exploded everywhere in myriad ways, from the massive bed in one of the quarters spied around the corner, covered in colorful fabrics, to the windchimes and mobiles made out of color flotsam and jetsam, there was little space in the ship that didn't have some form of decoration. Even the pilot and co-pilot seats were reupholstered with colored leather and cushioned with bright throw pillows. Books of various ages and types littered every available surface, and countless actually magical-looking artifacts were strewn about haphazardly.

Most notable were the actual live plants all over the place in various states of growth and bloom, colorful and light smelling, and the very well-read and dog-eared old paperback romance novels. The latter were most concentrated around the large bed in the bigger bunk room, a small pyramid of novels avalanching at one head corner of the bed. For all that Mac was the obviously more adventurous of the two Guardians, he was definitely not whimsical enough to turn off his gravity. The rabbit hole in Wonderland would be less disastrous.

"Make yourself at home!" Mac chirped happily, reaching under his mess table and tugging out a very worn but perfectly serviceable large beanbag, gesturing for Aoba to use it if he please. There was significantly more room on Mac's extravagant and indulgent ship. Of course his was a much newer model than anything Declan seemed to keep.

"Alright Cyclops, take us to Venus!" the Warlock barked, unbuckling the front of his armor as his Ghost drifted over to the ship's console and started maneuvering them out into the Reef.

"Speaking of healthy relationships, how are you doing juggling your mood-personality issues? Declan said something about headaches once. Modern science workin' for you?"

Hard to say if Aoba was surprised or not by the sudden immensity of color he found himself surrounded by. On one hand, given the sparse utilitarianism of Declan’s ship, it had seemed fairly reasonable that all ships should be as such on the inside. Nothing to fly around if the gravity went off, nothing to get in your way if you had to hurry from one spot to another. Mac’s ship, on the other hand, felt like walking into someone’s highly personalized home indeed. He was easily identified as a colorful personality, so it wouldn’t have been too surprising to see an actual on-the-ground house of his look this way on the inside, but a ship?

The books, though. More than enough that he wandered past had couples in intense embraces on their covers to give away an idea of their contents. Must have been where he got all his relationship-spewing advice from, huh? Since his own tastes were questionable and his experience was non-existent, or such his commentary implied.

He gave the offered beanbag a few experimental nudges with a foot, the Desire-side of him voicing their confusion in a form of what the fuck? Was it like a papasan chair but without the base? Aoba gave it a sit, and wasn’t as graceful about it as he would have liked, but found it comfortable enough once he was settled, if bizarre in all its squishy-crunchy noises.

Left to wonder yet again at how often and how much Declan had apparently been able to talk to Mac about Aoba, Desire grabbed one of those easily-accessible books with a raunchy cover and flipped it open at random.

“No more headaches,” he agreed idly, thumbing through pages and looking for the porny bits. “They were only me, after all, and now I get to actually come out and play.”

"Play," he parroted, though adding little bunny ear quotation marks in the air before he sloughed off his tunic and tossed it aside in his room, turning to corner so he was mostly out of sight. He didn't seem the least concerned about getting mostly naked with the door hanging open, working at changing his gear out for more race-appropriate attire. Which was to say, skin tight.

Where Declan was a massive wall of muscle and aptly named a Titan, Mac was leaner and fit in a different way; no less healthy and generally attractive, but definitely softer and more compact. A Warlock indeed.

"Well, I'm glad Deck managed to help you suss out that much. If you need anything while you're hanging out with me, don't hesitate to ask, I don't mind flying you around. Unlike Declan, I don't fill my every waking hour with Guardian business. Well...not field work, anyways. So I've got the time." He paused, peeking his head around the corner to make sure Aoba was still there and heard him. When he caught sight of the man holding one of his books, he colored briefly, a little embarrassed by his hobby. It only lasted a second, though.

"I can't tell from here, but if that's Blackest Knight, It's like...chapter seven and the raunchy stuff starts. This heroine, Madeleine, discovers that the 'ruthless and heartless black knight' that was granted control of her village by the king is actually her childhood friend. Turns out there was a romantic drama with her sister and the guy when they were young, and it drove him out of the village. He swore he'd never love again and only takes women for fun and tosses them when he's done, the way Madeleine's sister did to him. But she needs to marry him in order to protect her younger brother from being killed by the local ruling baron who wants to force her to marry him and kill the brother so he inherits everything. So she goes to seduce the knight and finds out it's her friend. It gets pretty hot starting there. I like my porn with a good plot," he regales the other man, a few zipping sounds accompanying his talk as he suits up.

Well. The bunny ear quotes weren’t wrong.

Chapter seven. Desire flipped around to the indicated pages without a bit of self-consciousness for his motives being so easily read. Reason was a little what the heck at him, sure, but no big deal. With Ren let loose again and now padding around in a polite exploration of the space, Desire focused on the book because he was curious enough for it to be a thing to do.

He did end up arching a brow and leaning his head back, though, peering towards Mac’s door without real intent—but also no regret if he caught a view of any kind. Mostly he was just smirking in regards to Mac’s earlier demands for sexy details.

“You calling me a good plot, cockatoo?”

"Are you a real dog or a real person?" Mac asked as Ren padded past his room, peeking out at the spitz briefly before looking up at Aoba and grinning with a shrug.

"I mean, I might be. You're definitely a wrench in the perfectly running cogwork that was Declan's boring fuckin' life. Stop peeking. Perv," Mac flat-eyed Aoba, thrusting his hips around the doorway and grabbing the sturdy crotch of his racing leathers to make a vulgar gesture and prove he was clothed before returning to pulling clothes on. Desire did get a nice eyeful of bare blue torso, though. He was no marble statue like Declan, but he was more exotic; more like a strange flower. Or bird.

"Have you ever seen a cockatoo this handsome? I don't think so," he sniffed, walking out and leaning against the doorway, arm over his helmet. He was dressed in the royal family colors: stark white, rich purple, light ash gray, and a darker purple leather that was almost black and had flecks of some glittering, reflective material set into it. He definitely liked to stand out - and was determined to represent those that hardly paid him any mind. Desperate for acknowledgment, perhaps. Or just doing everything out of habit.

"I'm majestic, thanks."

“A majestic cockatoo,” Desire agreed in good humor, having honestly enjoyed the bit of a show he’d been given. It was a telling thing, however, that despite the aesthetic enjoyment, he didn’t really want to do anything with it. Instead he thought of Declan, pale and bare-chested and statuesque, and remained very well aware of what he really wanted.

It wasn’t as if he’d thrown Aoba at every opportunity that had come their way, back in their Sly Blue days when Reason had listened to him so much more, so the disinterest in itself wasn’t out of character. The difference was how someone else immediately came to mind as a comparison. Now that was something that had never happened before.

“And he,” he added with a brief point towards Ren and an ill-concealed smirk, “is a real Allmate. On the outside, anyway. On the inside he’s a mashup of tech from both our eras and some other things. Basically our own fluffy little ghost, right, pup?”

Ren looked over with the driest look a dog could give before turning his attention up to Mac. “My name is Ren,” he intoned with a brief wag of his tail. “On behalf of all of us, thank you for your hospitality, Macklemore.”

"I think I remember reading something about Allmates once..." Mac murmured to himself, crouching down and holding his fist out in fist-bump fashion, waiting for Ren to (hopefully) accept and paw pap him in return.

"You're totally welcome lil dude. Both of you are, any time. My home is yours, just don't break anything. And feel free to go to town on any snacks I have around. I know there's dried fruit and jerky in my bedroom," he thumbed over his shoulder as he stood, arching a wry brow at Aoba.

"I prefer majestic swan, but you're a guest for now so I'll let you be bratty free of charge. Ugh, so rude. No respect," the Warlock muttered, padding across the floor and peering down at the console nearest his Ghost.

"We are arriving now. I am in communications with the station and we'll dock in ten minutes," his grumbling companion offered, mollifying the eager Guardian.

"Hey Aoba, you wanna watch from the ship or from the stands? I know my Ghost can get all the camera points up here and you can look down on the whole track, but they have pretty good food down there and you can watch the carnage up close. Your call. If I win you can even come kiss me. I won't tell."

Ren studied that fist for a couple moments, but Mac was rewarded. A little paw came up and papped his fist, indeed, complete with a longer-lasting tail wag.

‘Swan’ was surprising, and not the bird one might have expected to be demanded instead—peacock, maybe—but although Desire had to laugh to himself, he somehow (probably through Reason) refrained from counter-suggesting ‘turkey’, as Declan’s original comparison had been.

As for kiss and tell….

“Maybe you won’t, but maybe I will,” he countered with a grin, wondering if he might finally see some of Declan’s apparently-notorious-but-as-of-yet-unwitnessed anger if he did. But it only took a moment of thought to rule out that scenario. Declan thought he was out of the running, and so would probably take anything that looked like Aoba showing interest in Mac as Aoba showing actual interest in Mac and back off all the harder.

Desire did have to wonder if Mac had some level of less-platonic interest in his cousin, though, to be both so invested in his potential romance in all apparent aspects.

“I’ll come down to watch,” he answered the actual question, before jumping without preamble to a curious and only half-accusing, “You looking for a part-time threesome or something?”

(Reason almost wrenched back control for that one.)

"Threesome? With wh--oh. HA! Haha, yeah, no. Declan is a huge weenie, to me. 100% not my taste, personality wise. I mean I love the guy, don't get me wrong, but it's all familial. Not to say physically he's not great. I mean, you'd have to be an idiot not to gawk at a guy built like him. He makes me look like a noodle, and I'm nothing to scoff at," Mac thumbed at himself, shaking his head.

"Nah, I'm just fooling around. Don't take half of what I say too seriously. I mean yeah if you were totally on the shelf I'd probably chill with you as friends; get drunk and fool around kinda stuff. But I'm pretty on the level, mostly. I don't actually wanna get in the way of you and Big D. If I was gonna have a threesome, it'd be with the Sovs. Also the only scenario in which I could see myself hooking up with a woman. I bet she's some crazy ass dominatrix shit. I can get behind that," Mac nodded slowly, lips pursed in consideration.

Desire didn’t delve, but he believed him. Call that why his reaction to that answer was to laugh again, briefly but without mocking, nodding several times in place of ‘okay, okay, I get it’. Something about the way the Warlock presented himself didn’t all add up, not with all the bodice-rippers he had lying around, but he seemed fairly benign all things considered.

Also, he was a Guardian. And that seemed to be the universe’s—or at least the Traveler’s—way of casting a vote for you as ‘not the biggest asshole ever’.

“When I met the Sovs earlier, the Queen asked me back for some kind of one-on-one. I’ll put in a good word for you while I’m there,” he teased.

He considered for a moment, a finger tapping on his racing helmet as he stared at and through Aoba, doubtless visualizing the man talking to the queen, his name coming up in conversation. Being dismissed or unrecognized. He sighed and smiled, shrugging with a shake of his head.

"Nah, you're supposed to talk about yourself and your adventures and all with her, I'm sure. Plus, a real man speaks for himself! I need no introduction!" the Warlock laughed loudly, striking a pose. In reality, he didn't want Aoba going in and finding out the Sovs didn't know him from any other Guardian. Unless they had restraining orders.

"You want to see her while Declan is out or wait til he's back?"

Desire shrugged, closing Blackest Knight and reaching over to put it back in the spot where he’d found it. Not that he had any issues with girls, given that he’d actually done a few before in contrast to no dudes, but it was Declan on his mind. His curiosity in the book’s raunchy scenes flitted away as indifferently as it had popped up in the first place.

It was the whole of Aoba that considered the question, even if Desire was still the one shrugging lightly a few moments later.

“She only asked for alone, and before I left the Reef. Let’s hope that only meant left ‘permanently’, since you just kidnapped me off for this race and all. But I imagine my ‘overall morale’ will be better once the big guy comes home and we do some air-clearing, though, so I’ll probably wait ‘til after.”

"Ah, haha. I uh, wasn't aware of the stipulation, but noted. I'll be sure to get you back under the radar just in case. I'm sure we would have been contacted by now if it were an issue. Anyways, you're a guest, not a prisoner, so I'm sure it's fine." Not really sure at all, but it was fine. Totally fine.

"Arriving. Are you loading out the Ravensteel?" Mac's Ghost asked, turning to look at the small group as the Warlock pulled his helmet on.

"You know it. Might not be as fancy as Declan's shiny bullshit, but the Ravensteel is fast as hell with a powerful rocket boost."

"Prone to exploding if boosted for too long, let's not forget." The Ghost made some small sound of irritation, Mac's mirrored helmet turning in his direction, a bird flipped shortly after.

"Man, shut up. It's the best for racing if you're not an idiot."

"Precisely."

"You hear this guy? He's got jokes," Mac grumbled, pacing towards the doorway leading to the cargo bay. "Come on guys, let's find you a good vantage point on the cliffs."

Mac walked off his ship and into crowds of people gathered all around, dozens of Guardians tuning Sparrows all around a big cleared fields. There were banners and bleachers, announcer booths in short towers, the smells of various foods, and the roar of engines. Distantly, energy weapons went off, and the occasional pop and boom of an exploding Sparrow could be heard.

They moved through the people until Mac pointed out a good spot and excused himself to head over to the lineups. He was talked to and inspected, then gestured along. Eventually it was his turn to race, and he waved up at Aoba before puttering into the pit.

The races were indeed extraordinarily dangerous, the track filled with various perils including hostile forces there simply to attack the Guardians while they were 'distracted'. Mac was in the top three time and again, winning number 1 more than once, proving himself not to be all talk. He boasted a lot, but it seemed he had good reason to. He was reckless, absolutely, but his wild stunts and complete lack of concern put him ahead of the game. He was a showman, too, and people cheered wildly when he came up on the big screen near the announcer tower, usually as a review of a particularly dangerous stunt.

It was a couple hours, but Mac eventually walked away the champion, and without any deaths. There were a lot of extremely close calls, particularly in regards to him setting his Sparrow on fire from taking hits, crashing on sharp turns, and overdoing it on the boosts, but he didn't die, and when he walked his Sparrow back over to Aoba, he was sweaty, scuffed, a little bloody, and smiling ear to ear.

"DID YOU SEE ME?!" the Warlock shouted excitedly, breath still heaving from hours of exertion. "WAS I NOT AWESOME!? I WAS AWESOME!"

Rhyme it was not, but Desire was thrilled by the energy of the crowd around him almost as much as he was the racing itself. High excitement, high tension, and noise. He wasn’t anywhere near on that level as far as volume went, more often just quiet and grinning with an occasional pleased laugh whenever Mac or another of the riders pulled off a stunt. Just watching wasn’t nearly as much fun as he imagined zooming around on one of those crotchrockets had to be, but to him, it was the most exciting thing he’d witnessed the whole time they’d been in this ‘verse.

Reason, predictably, found the whole thing to be needlessly reckless and even frightening to watch. The one small relief he had was when the races were over and Mac hadn’t come to harm. Seeing as he didn’t share in the exhilaration that his other half and their host felt, he remained in the background yet again, giving Desire yet another extended time at the front of their consciousness, enjoying the world around them in full.

Mac sounded like a goddamn kid when he returned, but Desire’s laughter at his crowing was still pretty pleased with him. The Warlock had enjoyed himself and come out on top. Nothing to critique him for there.

“Yeah, yeah, I saw you,” Desire agreed, a little too much teeth in his grin. He felt antsy, like on the edge of being worked up and wanting to do something with it, but all he had available to him was to thump a fist on Mac’s shoulder. “That looks like a hell of a time out there. I’m actually jealous!”

"Oh man, yeah, you should be! Haha! It's literally the best feeling. I can't wait until it's open on Io or Saturn or somewhere else. I've gotten so used to the current tracks it's only a challenge because of the other racers and the enemies. But man, what a rush. Phew. Not a lot that makes me appreciate being alive, but racing definitely gets me there at least a little," he laughed, pausing a moment, then laughing again a little less animatedly. He had his problems too. Unfortunately, there was evidently no therapy resource in place for Guardians.

Aside from endangering themselves as a release.

"Phew. I'm beat, though. I'm gonna catch a shower and get changed, then we can head back to the Reef. Oh, you know, you should call Declan before he calls you. I bet his big ass would be tickled."

“Oh come on, he’s only been gone a few hours. He’s probably barely even started whatever it is he agreed to do and I’m not that needy,” Desire snorted, but by the way he rolled his gaze off to the side, he was at least considering doing it anyway. He was maybe a little better than Mac at being subtle, but even if he was, it wasn’t by much.

Helped that Reason had a few thoughts on the matter too, of course.

“Oi, pup,” he eventually addressed Ren, who had remained in the satchel all the while for safety’s sake, given the chaos of the crowd. When pointed little ears flicked his way, he asked, “You’ve been taking pictures and vids the way you do, right?”

“I have.”

“Pick out some with me in them and send them off to the big guy, update style.”

“Understood.”

There. And if Declan called him in response after he received them, well then, it wasn’t like Aoba was going to ignore the call, now, was he?

Mac snorted a soft laugh and rolled his Sparrow into cargo, letting his Ghost handle the rest, disappearing into the ship to tuck himself in for a quick rinse in the shower.

Declan didn't call, but he received the files and sent some quick ones of his own, himself crouched down behind a big marble block, rifle in hand, a glowing shield up around him, and one hand holding a thumb's up. Very busy, very much in a dangerous spot, but just fine and very pleased. Ghost returned a message of 'Everything is alright, Declan says he'll call you this evening before he heads back' and left it at that. By the time the correspondence was complete, Mac was wandering back out in fresh Warlock robes and combing his hair up into it's signature puff.

"What's he doin' do you know? He said he needs to go to Venus. We could fly around and see about joining him. I don't mind helping on his bounty mission or whatever if you're alright staying on the ship. He didn't specifically say we couldn't..."

Aoba found his selves consistent in the fact that neither one of him much liked those return images, though the reasons between them were similar and different alike. When Mac returned it was to a faint but nevertheless still golden-eyed scowl, frowning at Ren’s holographic displays of images that most definitely showed the Titan in the middle of combat.

What had happened to going places with him and carrying extra weapons? He’d never even given them firing or handling lessons. Aoba had apparently succeeded in balking so much that Declan had managed to bypass them entirely after all, and now he was putting his neck on the line all on his own again.

Desire thought of the old instincts, the old urges, that watching the races had gotten all riled up. He wasn’t helpless. Aoba wasn’t even aware of how very not helpless he was. Not immortal, not trained in wielding arms, but not helpless. And planets didn’t seem so big anymore. They were here watching races while Declan was off on a deadly scavenger hunt? What the hell was fair about that?

He eyed Mac briefly. Stay on the ship, was it? Well, he could say that and all, but there was another thing Desire had already tested and was confident of. Being a Guardian hadn’t protected Declan from Aoba’s powers, minor though the use of them had been. Presumably, Mac would be no different.

“He’s off having fun without us,” Desire answered, giving the holograms little taps to turn them Mac’s direction. “So. Just a little while ago you told me to tell him when I want to do more for myself. You got suggestions on just how I’m supposed to do that when nobody lets me near the fighting?”

"I mean...if it were up to me, I'd let you do what you want. I'd worry, of course, but you're your own person and you've got the right to choose, even if the choice is stupid," the Warlock remarked, not at all afraid to cock-up.

"Declan isn't like me. He actually tries to stay alive. Has some sort of weird private math in his head. One of his deaths might mean dozens of other deaths, or something. Me, I see it like...I die dozens of times, it means absolutely nothing one way or the other. I just come back, get up, dust myself off, try again. then again, I'm a Warlock, not a Titan. I'm no giant wall protecting people, I'm just a damage dealer. I can blow things up like you wouldn't believe, but at the end of the day, unless I kill the bad guy before he kills you, I'm not doing much in the way of saving people in the immediate vicinity, you get me?" A shrug, Mac tossing himself into the pilot's chair and spinning around slowly, eyeing Aoba on his rotations.

"He probably thinks you're squishy and killable and that he'll mess up and not protect you, or that you'll distract him and he'll end up in a pinch or something. I don't know, I'm not psychic. I do know I don't wanna be responsible if something happens to you. You may never have seen Declan go off, but when he does, it's pretty scary. I don't want to be on the wrong end of his fist. I have seen him literally punch a person's head off. Just BOOF, pink mist. It. Was. Horrifying. And he wasn't even mad at the time. Just out of ammunition!" He shuddered and grimaced, shaking his head and holding up both hands.

"We can both go looking for him, but I mean...Are you even trained with a gun?"

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IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

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