nopunchline: (Default)
nopunchline ([personal profile] nopunchline) wrote in [community profile] orendalogs 2018-10-19 04:25 pm (UTC)

"Mm...I don't like this sort or thing, really. Having someone to go with will be nice." He meant it all, too. He didn't like being praised for doing what everyone else did, didn't like being noticed for efforts other Guardians made just as well and often. Mac worked more frequently than Declan did and just because Declan was a defender in many of his missions, he got more recognition. It seemed wrong.

Of course Declan also didn't understand that Guardians like himself were far more rare and sought after; his determination to protect others before himself to the point of being an immovable wall against hordes of creatures was indeed commendable. During the mock battles of the Iron Banner, Declan single-handedly carried his team to victory sometimes. Lord Saladin noticed.

"Well...no time like the present..."

When Aoba had enough to eat, the remains (of which there were few with how Declan could eat) were put in the cooler and they headed up the Tower to go over registrations. Aoba was very briefly introduced to the vanguard leaders, including Cayde-6 who kept dodging left and right from ine foot to the other to look around behind a very distressed Declan that kept shielding Aoba with his body. The hunter just wanted to see the supposedly not-at-all-spy portal-jumping not-quite-human that Declan was hording to himself. Cayde wasn't unlike Mac, in a lot of ways. Though he had infinitely more authority. Despite it, he didn't order Declan around or demand Aoba present himself. The vanguard approved Aoba's passage and sent them along with a few murmurs of approval that Declan was going to meet with Saladin.

In the hangar, Declan stepped away to review a checklist of issues handled by Halliday, his ship hovering, engines trimming a low, warm sound, like a large sleeping cat. Other ships whizzed by in and out if the massive center, Aoba able to watch a lot more hustle and bustle than anywhere else on the Tower.

Eventually they were cleared and the two men were transmat ported onto the ship, dropping into the cockpit.

"No time to go over everything, I'll do it later. A storm is kicking up on the mountain so we'll go straight there and wait it out." That said, he slid into one if the seats, flipping switches and tapping away on bright screens with the muscle memory of one who had made flights a thousand thousand times. Soon they were zooming through the sky, though inside the ship it felt no worse than riding a bullet train.

"It shouldn't be more than a half hour...it's just Russia."

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