Trespasser, Vision of Confluence, Dragon’s Breath. Aoba recalled the names of the weapons as he unpacked them and attached them to his gear as he’d been shown. And though his eyes stayed gold as he paid attention to Mac’s lessons, it most assuredly counted as Aoba who paid attention.
He didn’t have to want to fight, he didn’t even have to enjoy fighting, but if he was going to fight for something he believed in—for someone he wanted to stand beside with any sense of pride or self-worth—then he had to go all in. Desire kept the reins still, but Reason quieted his questions for another time. For Declan’s sake, they were attuned.
He put his helmet on and detached the bag that Ren had ridden in, instructing the Allmate to stay on the ship. Ren was obviously less than pleased, but did not protest. A little dog, after all, was even less suited for a battlefield than an untrained civilian.
Considering the gauges, which had of course been there every other time he’d worn the gear but had been of no relevance before, Aoba nodded. “Just like in Rhyme,” he murmured, with a sound of amusement to go with the wry smirk under his helmet. It wasn’t Rhyme. Rhyme was as close to real as you could get without it actually being real—but people died in Drive-Bys just the same.
With the scout rifle in his hands, Aoba then gave a dry laugh and a shrug. “Hey, maybe some stray Ghost will take a liking to me if I fuck it all up, huh? Then you can all lighten up.”
Of course, he wouldn't remember anyone either, if the whole resurrected-with-amnesia thing held true even with recently-risen Guardians, but hey. Dark humor was dark humor.
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He didn’t have to want to fight, he didn’t even have to enjoy fighting, but if he was going to fight for something he believed in—for someone he wanted to stand beside with any sense of pride or self-worth—then he had to go all in. Desire kept the reins still, but Reason quieted his questions for another time. For Declan’s sake, they were attuned.
He put his helmet on and detached the bag that Ren had ridden in, instructing the Allmate to stay on the ship. Ren was obviously less than pleased, but did not protest. A little dog, after all, was even less suited for a battlefield than an untrained civilian.
Considering the gauges, which had of course been there every other time he’d worn the gear but had been of no relevance before, Aoba nodded. “Just like in Rhyme,” he murmured, with a sound of amusement to go with the wry smirk under his helmet. It wasn’t Rhyme. Rhyme was as close to real as you could get without it actually being real—but people died in Drive-Bys just the same.
With the scout rifle in his hands, Aoba then gave a dry laugh and a shrug. “Hey, maybe some stray Ghost will take a liking to me if I fuck it all up, huh? Then you can all lighten up.”
Of course, he wouldn't remember anyone either, if the whole resurrected-with-amnesia thing held true even with recently-risen Guardians, but hey. Dark humor was dark humor.