"I only wish I was alive then. I would have liked...more choices," he murmured, expression wistful. "Then again, maybe I was. I don't know. Ghost says I was very, very old. Pre-Golden Age. I've never asked much about it though. It never seemed relevant," the Titan shrugged, reaching over and tapping a few things on one of the screens, alerting the outpost to his arrival and asking permission to dock.
The Iron Temple slowly came into view as they lowered altitude, flying into the beginnings of an ice-storm, snow silently obscuring the view in a misty veil until they were right up on the massive, ancient stone structure. Colorful flags flapped in the winds and great fires burned in stone and iron bowls all around the place, showing the territory to be quite large. Bridges and walkways connected numerous peaks and cliffs, and in the snow, Guardians moved between parts of the temple grounds, wrapped in heavy furs and cloaks over their suits, a combination of ancient knights and futuristic soldiers. Hands raised here and there, waving a greeting to Declan's ship, the craft carrying a brother in arms; a sign that personal feelings between individuals didn't change the general respect Guardians shared.
They landed in a hangar, the massive doors closing behind them. Declan opened a supply container near the ship door, pulling out a pair of fur cloaks, casually throwing a darker, smaller one over Aoba's shoulders. Pale eyes inspected the other man, nodding approval. His old cloak fit Aoba like it was sized for him. Declan's newest cloak draped over his shoulders, white and grey, a thick collar blending with his hair.
"It's warm inside all the temple areas, but we have to cross the courtyards to get from the hangars to the main hall and the barracks," Declan explained, gesturing for Aoba to follow him out a side entrance. Outside, the winds raged, snow whipping across cobblestones and rocking the wood-slat bridges. Fortunately they didn't have to take any of those dubious-looking paths; they walked straight across the main courtyard, Declan stopping at one of the massive fires, the warmth radiating comfortably despite the storm. There he was able to point and gesture, describing the different areas, explaining in brief the history of the Iron Lords, the closest to real knights the Guardian's had. He pointed out the Iron Lord barracks where they would relax and weather the storm - they were always short, he remarked - before heading home. Then he sighed and forced himself onward to the temple proper.
Inside he was greeted by a few newer recruits, Declan pausing to politely reply, offer encouragements. It was obvious that among the more war-oriented Iron Lords his reputation wasn't a problem. They were the ones that ran the Crucible and performed in the mock battles; a degree of strength and violence was necessary for survival, and Declan was a valuable soldier.
Further in they went, the vast space and general quiet of the temple echoing the Titan's bootfalls and the whispers of Guardians in alcoves and on stairs. It was a combination mountain war fortress and place of meditation and learning. In the center of it all was Lord Saladin, standing before the altar of fallen Iron Lords. When Declan approached, the man turned and greeted him warmly, politely greeting Aoba as well though his focus was obviously on the Titan. Excusing themselves for a moment, Saladin and Declan left Aoba to explore the temple and it's frescoes, carvings, and statues. Ghost floated over, staying with Aoba and Ren while Declan and Saladin discussed the Titan's work, his war efforts, the apparently numerous commendations he had failed to accept. Declan's eyes occasionally wandered, looking for Aoba, his posture relaxing from regular spikes of tension when he saw the other man, letting him endure the "disapproving dad" demeanor of Saladin, who only wanted to make sure the Guardian got his dues...and also try to convince him to perform more services, of course. But one didn't let a good blade rust.
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The Iron Temple slowly came into view as they lowered altitude, flying into the beginnings of an ice-storm, snow silently obscuring the view in a misty veil until they were right up on the massive, ancient stone structure. Colorful flags flapped in the winds and great fires burned in stone and iron bowls all around the place, showing the territory to be quite large. Bridges and walkways connected numerous peaks and cliffs, and in the snow, Guardians moved between parts of the temple grounds, wrapped in heavy furs and cloaks over their suits, a combination of ancient knights and futuristic soldiers. Hands raised here and there, waving a greeting to Declan's ship, the craft carrying a brother in arms; a sign that personal feelings between individuals didn't change the general respect Guardians shared.
They landed in a hangar, the massive doors closing behind them. Declan opened a supply container near the ship door, pulling out a pair of fur cloaks, casually throwing a darker, smaller one over Aoba's shoulders. Pale eyes inspected the other man, nodding approval. His old cloak fit Aoba like it was sized for him. Declan's newest cloak draped over his shoulders, white and grey, a thick collar blending with his hair.
"It's warm inside all the temple areas, but we have to cross the courtyards to get from the hangars to the main hall and the barracks," Declan explained, gesturing for Aoba to follow him out a side entrance. Outside, the winds raged, snow whipping across cobblestones and rocking the wood-slat bridges. Fortunately they didn't have to take any of those dubious-looking paths; they walked straight across the main courtyard, Declan stopping at one of the massive fires, the warmth radiating comfortably despite the storm. There he was able to point and gesture, describing the different areas, explaining in brief the history of the Iron Lords, the closest to real knights the Guardian's had. He pointed out the Iron Lord barracks where they would relax and weather the storm - they were always short, he remarked - before heading home. Then he sighed and forced himself onward to the temple proper.
Inside he was greeted by a few newer recruits, Declan pausing to politely reply, offer encouragements. It was obvious that among the more war-oriented Iron Lords his reputation wasn't a problem. They were the ones that ran the Crucible and performed in the mock battles; a degree of strength and violence was necessary for survival, and Declan was a valuable soldier.
Further in they went, the vast space and general quiet of the temple echoing the Titan's bootfalls and the whispers of Guardians in alcoves and on stairs. It was a combination mountain war fortress and place of meditation and learning. In the center of it all was Lord Saladin, standing before the altar of fallen Iron Lords. When Declan approached, the man turned and greeted him warmly, politely greeting Aoba as well though his focus was obviously on the Titan. Excusing themselves for a moment, Saladin and Declan left Aoba to explore the temple and it's frescoes, carvings, and statues. Ghost floated over, staying with Aoba and Ren while Declan and Saladin discussed the Titan's work, his war efforts, the apparently numerous commendations he had failed to accept. Declan's eyes occasionally wandered, looking for Aoba, his posture relaxing from regular spikes of tension when he saw the other man, letting him endure the "disapproving dad" demeanor of Saladin, who only wanted to make sure the Guardian got his dues...and also try to convince him to perform more services, of course. But one didn't let a good blade rust.