orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

See, there Declan went again. Considerate, caring, providing…he sounded like a father, almost. Or maybe more like a brother? Someone on equal standing…ideally, anyway. But they weren’t family, so it was more like….

Well. Friends.

Aoba paused, arms submerged in the water as he rinsed the dishes and pot, and ran it all through his head again, through the background thrum of that headache onset. Declan liked eating home cooking so it wasn’t all ‘wasting’ it on Aoba if he bought something. Alright, so what else did Aoba think he could prepare without botching?

“…how about eggs? And…a little bit of anything you’d like to go with it, like a meat or vegetable. Or both. I’ll make some simple omelets. Sound good?”

"That sounds like an excellent idea and I'll be sure to bring some. Please get some rest, Aoba. Make yourself at home and don't be afraid to contact me--oh. Um...Ghost?"

"Yes yes. If you have a communication device, be it a personal item or Ren here, I can update it with the security parameters necessary to access the local commlink system and reach--"

"He means he can give you are numbers," Declan edged in, blinking twice and arching a brow at Ghost, who bobbed apologetically.

"Yes, that."

"Anyways, I'm going to head out. Ghost can catch up. Goodnight, Aoba. Thank you for dinner," he paused, considering, before offering a smile and nod. "It was lovely." Probably not the word he wanted, but it satisfied him as he headed for the door, turned, waved and departed, leaving Ghost hovering there idly, blinking his blue light at Aoba expectantly.

“See you later, Declan,” Aoba called from the sink, adding a cautionary, “Be safe,” a moment afterwards. Just in case. Declan spoke casually, patrols and breakfast in the morning, but…well, it passed Aoba’s lips anyway, just in case.

When the Guardian was gone, Aoba turned his attention on the little constructs still in his company. With a nod of his head, Aoba indicated his Coil. He’d taken off the watch-like device before he’d gotten down to the dishwashing, so there it sat upon an unoccupied stretch of the little countertop.

No questions over era-spanning incompatibilities between technology this time. If Ren had been able to accept the maps, Aoba would trust that Ghost could handle the Coil as well.

“That’s my Coil sitting there, Ghost. Ren is networked to it, but in this case, better to update the Coil directly, I think.”

"Absolutely. I can do that. In a jiffy," the little robot hummed, zipping over and hovering above the coil. His blue lit scans filtered over the accessory, scanning, learning everything offered.

"You really are from another time. Fascinating. Very interesting. Hm. Well, there you go, fixed it. If there's anything else you need?" Ghost asked, waiting patiently. If Aoba declined the opportunity to question to construct he simply dematerialized. Otherwise he was prepared to listen, not needed for anything immediate by Declan.

“Midorijima, Japan…year 2XXX,” Aoba added at a murmur, letting the water drain out of the sink and drying his hands. Maybe a reference point would help bridge the gap between their eras or…something like that. Aoba didn’t know, really, but instead of closing up he just kept opening up to his sudden benefactors. It wasn’t like he really had anything to hide, either.

“I guess that’ll do it, though. Thanks, Ghost. We’ll see you in the morning, too.”

So then the construct would vanish, leaving Aoba alone with Ren…and his headache.

His little partner followed him as Aoba picked up his Coil and went briefly into the bathroom to collect his new bag. The old Decker clothes…maybe Tess would want to resell them or something? Not that Aoba expected much profit or anything like that, but with the wide variety of wares she’d carried, maybe Aoba could get a little something good out of them instead of just trashing them. Something to consider much later, though.

Aoba took his last pill and withdrew to the bedroom with his headphones. Like his Coil, he’d managed to hold on to them through his stint with the Deckers. It was enough to keep Aoba from dwelling long—or at all—upon the oddity of sleeping in another person’s bed. He fumbled around until he figured out how to turn off the lights, then lay down with the headphones on and Ren tucked at his side, letting the familiar music help soothe his brain until his medicine kicked in and sleep took over.

The two were gone much longer than an average shift, but nothing was all that average for Guardians. Declan had a lot of ground to over, but for the first time in all his days as a Guardian, he hurried through it instead of sauntering about. He cleared out the old air base, sorted through the wreckage, worked with Ghost on powering up an old relay, fought off an infestation of Fallen and rolled back into the apartment as the sun was coming up. He was beaten, battered, his armor scratched and scuffed and burned, but he came home with a bag containing eggs, bacon, a fresh, real tomato, an onion and some cheese, all suggestions made by his fireteam on the way home.

Carefully storing everything away in the fridge, Declan then wandered to the couch, stared down at it and promptly collapsed across it, burying his face out of the way of the sun creeping into the apartment. Booted feet hanging well over the end, he curled slightly and tucked his arms against his chest, falling asleep on the spot. Ghost hovered briefly nearby before sighing and drifting off to gaze out the window at the Traveler, as many Ghosts and some few Guardians often did. That left Aoba to wake and work as he saw fit while Declan caught a quick nap, worn out, worked hard and obviously beaten more than a little over the course of his patrol, which might have sounded innocuous enough.

Some things didn’t change no matter what world you were in: Aoba was lazy when it came to getting out of bed. Exhaustion and a month on a cheap air mattress countered the unfamiliarity of another person’s bed and he slept through the night.

His own variety of ‘morning’ fell somewhere late into it, his heavy sleep helping reset what otherwise might have been some serious portal jetlag. He fumbled through a minute or two of disorientation, remembering where he was and what had happened the day before, a process slightly hampered by what felt like a tiny red needle (or three) poking the back of his brain.

Shit. He hadn’t had much medicine on him in the first place when he’d fallen through to Decker territory, and he’d had to be more and more judicious with his doses as time passed and he had to realize he 1) wasn’t any closer to home and 2) his bottle was running empty. Whatever was in Tae’s concoctions, the concentration of the drug in his system had been on a steady decline…and now he had nothing left to bolster it with.

Thinking he was still alone, Aoba wandered out to the living area in the same crumpled clothes he’d slept in, his hair loose and a bit unruly from bedhead that he didn’t feel up to taming until his coordination was a bit better. With the back of the couch facing his direction, Aoba was just oblivious enough not to notice the giant armored feet jutting well past one end of the couch, shuffling right past it and turning on the water at the sink, instead.

Declan didn't move a muscle, dead to the world in all but the most literal sense, his bulky body in all it's combat armor barely staying to the couch except for how tightly he'd tucked himself against the back cushions. His silky white hair shrouded his pale face, ruffling occasionally with deep, warm breaths that sounded more like they belonged to a stable animal than a mere man.

Ghost, however, was alert as ever and turned away from the window, bobbing along to hover beside Aoba and hum a cheery "Good morning!"

"Did you sleep well? Declan worried about it all night. Kept asking if he ought to send someone over with more blankets or softer sheets."

Aoba promptly spluttered right into the glass of water he’d poured for himself, snorting and coughing into the resultant splash. He wiped automatically at his face with his free hand, fumbling to recover as he looked over and recognized Ghost through sleep-bleary eyes. A bit less bleary than before, though, after get doused with water he’d been trying to drink.

“Ghost…ah, morning,” he eventually managed, a little red-cheeked but overall unharmed. “I was…I was fine, thanks. Didn’t even hear you get back. Where’s Dec—oh.”

Aoba finally saw the boots.

"He was very concerned about waking you as well. I'm sure he'll be relieved to know we did not. He refused to even go change out of his armor. It does make a terrible lot of noise. The Armamentarium is very loud and difficult to remove sometimes. Hm. Well, I suppose I should wake him. He said not to let him miss breakfast," Ghost explained, bobbing side to side and inspecting Aoba as he spoke before turning towards the cough. He stopped halfway there before coming back, tilting slightly and blinking at the young man.

"Unless you weren't cooking yet? I don't have to wake him as long as he won't miss anything. He was very adamant about not missing anything."

Ghost got blinked at right back as Aoba processed that. “Ah…no, I haven’t started. I just got up.”

Setting down the glass, Aoba lifted a hand to his hair and gingerly picked at a loose tangle with his fingers as his attention drifted couchwards again. After a moment, Aoba’s feet took him shuffling off towards it with a vague, sleepy curiosity.

Standing behind the couch and peering down, Aoba spluttered a soft sound as he took in the full, ridiculous sight of a very large man in an even bulkier set of armor, curled up on a couch like a kid crashing for a nap after school. Even his face and his hair all tumbled over, he looked…well.

Cute.

Even with the stable-animal droning.

With his thoughts as morning-slow as they were, Aoba found himself staring. Or, rather, lost himself in staring, unaware that more moments were passing by than he was aware of, studying that sleeping face as if he might somehow learn something more of owner while he was, himself, unobserved.

You know, except for Ghost.

Cute indeed; Declan pouted in his sleep, full lips too plush when his teeth were together so the curved out. Add that to how he furrowed his brow when he slept and he looked like he were quietly pouting to himself behind all that hair. His fingers flexed on occasion, the gloves creaking, and he always kept one hand near the combat knife affixed to his shoulder. In all, cute though he was, it was easy to see that Declan was a well-trained survivor. Even if the chatter and watching didn't wake him. After all, those weren't signs of danger.

"Aoba?" Ghost spoke up gently, curious. "Is there something wrong with him?" the little light asked quietly, tilting this way and that, looking between Declan and Aoba.

"You're staring..."

That woke Aoba up in a hurry. He jolted, whipping his attention to Ghost as his cheeks went bright red.

“No I—” wasn’t, he began automatically, but cut himself off with a half-and-half reaction of being retroactively aware that he most definitely had been staring and not wanting to call further attention to it by protesting.

“No,” he started over, turning quickly and blushing his way back to the kitchen area. Now Ghost probably thought he was some sort of weirdo or something. Still, that didn’t stop Aoba from mumbling, “There’s nothing wrong with him…at all.”

Aoba then attempted to divert his own attentions by going into the fridge, quickly identifying the new stash of ingredients and pulling them out.

Quite the contrary, Ghost watched Declan a lot, too. In fact the little construct hovered slowly down, settling on the couch and turning a bit, his blinking eye and quiet, fond tone reminiscent of a sibling or parent folding their arms on the back of the couch to watch their loved one sleep. There was a lot of expressiveness for something so completely inhuman.

"Yes. He's perfect," Ghost sighed, tilting a bit again. "I looked everywhere for him. He was just right. I knew he was the one. I looked for ages and ages and went further than many other Ghosts and didn't find anything, but I came back to where so much of it began and there he was. Some of the other Ghosts might question my choices, but I think he's marvelous, don't you?" the little light asked, hovering up again and doing a little circuit around the couch before floating into the kitchen to watch Aoba cook.

"I wish the Light were enough to help him see the good in himself. I do try to guide him to those revelations but...he just can't grasp it. I don't know. Maybe I'm doing something wrong. Human emotions are extremely complicated to understand."

Aoba attempted to stay super-focused on the ingredients, relieved by the familiar and pulling out the pan he’d identified last night and knew he would need again now. He assumed that Ghost would recognize Aoba was getting ready to cook and wake the sleeper on the couch, so he didn’t ask the little construct to do so.

The commentary he got instead was unexpected and, as such, pulled Aoba from his embarrassment just enough to lift his head and pay closer attention. Well. He wasn’t going to comment on the ‘marvelous’ part, but Aoba did slow down a little as he absorbed the bit of confidence from Declan’s little companion.

“…Those jerks in the bar don’t count. Everyone else I’ve seen really seems to respect him. The barkeeper, the commissary…even the Speaker.” Rolling an egg lightly between his palms, a restless motion, Aoba dared a glance back at those dusty boots—the only part of Declan he could see at this angle—as he admitted, “I’ve never met anybody like him.”

"There's no one like anyone," Ghost replied, tilting slightly. "Every person truly is unique. Every genetic and personality combination is completely different. A Ghost has one person and one only that they make Guardians. There's something special about each one. They have Light in them long before we get to them," he hummed, bobbing in a little nod before turning to Aoba directly.

"Should I wake him for a shower and change, do you think? He can sleep after breakfast. I don't want him to be upset."

Ghost took that a little literally, huh? Aoba couldn’t help but chuckle a bit initially, but it wasn’t a lingering mirth. Just a little sound and gentle shake of his head, but perhaps it was something to think over, too…that connection between Ghost and Declan.

“…Mm. If he wanted to be up, wake him up. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, either.”

A small nod and Ghost was off hovering over Declan's face, flashing little blue lights at him, whistling and chirping like birds. It was likely the most gentle sort of alarm clock a person could find.

"Wake up, wake up. Aoba is beginning to cook breakfast!" Ghost chimed, the construct dodging out of the way when a disheveled head popped up, silver eyes peering around blearily in search of blue hair. A hand raised slightly, fingers twiddling in a small wave before Declan pushed himself to sit upright, yawning deeply. Scrubbing at his face with both hands, the Guardian stood to his full height and turned, only to realize Aoba wasn't actually cooking. At his perplexed look, Ghost hummed lightly.

"Wouldn't it be polite to change out of your gear and get a shower before having breakfast?" Ghost suggested, and Declan flushed slightly.

"Good morning, Aoba," he mumbled, ducking his head a fraction by way of greeting. "Did you sleep alright?" he asked, reaching down and shuffling through his many pockets in search of something.

Edited 2015-12-27 17:27 (UTC)

Well, Aoba was glad to see that Declan didn’t seem too stiff or anything. Sleeping on a couch was one thing, but sleeping in that bulky suit of armor…? He could only imagine how that felt, though maybe the future was good at building things as comfortable as they were bulky? Or something.

No matter. Aoba couldn’t help but smile back. “Morning, Declan. I slept fine, thanks. Ghost said you wanted to be awake for the cooking, so…I’ll only prep the ingredients and get them ready to go until you come back.”

Nope. Just used to sleeping in his gear on the field. Declan had spent more than one night in his armor, curled up on the cold ground, catching a few minutes of sleep while his battle buddies watched his back. They all traded off, more guards than sleepers.

"Thank you," the man replied, sighing as he got more frustrated rummaging through his packs. He grunted and fumbled until at last one of the pockets yielded what he wanted. Heavy boots thudded on the floor as he closed the distance and set a little stone on the counter. It was about the total size of a ping-pong ball, light and glittery. Declan looked quite proud for a moment, puffing a bit before clearing his throat.

"That's for you. I found it in Russia last night on patrol. I thought it was glimmer at first. I thought of you when I saw it. Not because it's blue or anything. It's not...obviously. I just thought it was pretty." He shrugged, reached up to check his gear and eventually turned away, heading for the bedroom and a shower.

"I'll be back in a little bit. Don't keep yourself from eating on my account."

Aoba didn’t even catch on that Declan was really looking for something until all that rummaging got agitated, and then it was curiosity that made him focus more and wonder what was wrong.

He didn’t expect the stone. A gift. Aoba blinked down at the little crystal, hit with several degrees of surprise all at once to puzzle through. He lifted it carefully, turning it over in his hand. Well, if a patrol was a quiet route, he supposed picking up a shiny bit of stone wasn’t terribly strange but….

…wait a minute. If it had made him think of Aoba but not because of its color, the only other thing Declan had mentioned was….

Aoba promptly went red to his ears, caught in thinking: Did Declan think he was pretty? No, wait, no, that was just ridiculous, that was….

Wait a minute. Again.

“…Ghost? How far are we from Russia?”

"Approximately 4000km, give or take, depending on what part of Russia. I assume you're referring to where we were on patrol last night. We flew to the Cosmodrome in Old Russia. Transmat and modern ships make it very quick."

Declan departed for his shower without further comment on anything, oblivious to the fact that something pretty had made him think of Aoba. While the Guardian didn't place certain words and values on things, habitually detached as he was, he did think Aoba was pretty. He was pale and soft and had lovely hair any Awoken would be proud of. He was also kind but courageous in the face of his unknowns. He had many traits that Declan could appreciate, and as such Declan saw fit to think about him while under fire, stop for a moment and pick up a pretty rock because he thought Aoba might like it. Simple as that. The Guardian acted on impulse when he wasn't given enough time to think things through. Fortunately, it was rarely a bad thing, aside from potentially endangering himself.

While Aoba and Ghost talked, Declan showered. It took the most time for him to get out of the armor and stack everything to be cleaned later. The showering was as quick as it could be while still thoroughly washing a giant. It gave Aoba plenty of time to grill the construct, at least.

Aoba stared more than a little blankly, absorbing the vast difference between thinking patrols meant along the walls of the city, and learning it meant Russia. Looking down at the stone in his hand made him blush again and move to put it down on the counter, though he did so with care and did not drop it. He couldn’t say it bothered him, really, but….

He didn’t have the brainpower to think about it right now. He thought his headache might be worsening somewhat, even.

“…I thought patrols meant around the city,” he murmured, breaking his gaze away from the stone to go back to cutting up the vegetables, instead. “What were you doing all the way in Russia?”

"A lot of things. Patrols are around the entire galaxy, really. Declan prefers patrols over strikes because he can do things at his own pace. We cleared out an old air base, sorted through the wreckage in order to get valuable codes, powered up an old relay to connect comm bases on Earth and the Moon again and fought off an infestation of Fallen we found along the way. We fought some hive, too, but they were just straggled from an old seed ship. Well, he fought them. I don't really have any weapons," Ghost mused, twisting about in his version of a shrug before hovering over to watch Aoba again.

"He usually takes a day or so to do those things, but he made a point to get it all finished in a timely manner so he could come home. He really was looking forward to this breakfast. It almost makes me wish I could eat, just so I could see what it's all about."

…every question that Aoba asked only raised more complicated questions instead of solid answers. The chopping motions of Aoba’s knife stilled and he stared down at the diced bits of onion without seeing them. When he turned his head a bit, he did see that turquoise-shaded stone, though.

Fought. Declan had been gone a night, going all across the planet—and beyond?—and fighting, and he’d still seen a pretty stone and picked it up because it had reminded him of Aoba. He’d hurried home for breakfast, and told Ghost to wake him up so he wouldn’t miss it. This guy…he was just unreal.

“Then I better not disappoint him,” was all Aoba said, pushing aside the little pile of onion and moving on to the cheese instead. After that, he had nothing else to ask of Ghost for the moment. He focused on the last bits of prep work, waiting for Declan to join them.

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...you just made Aerosmith their theme song (nottalking)

I DON'T WANNA CLOOOOSE MY EEEEYES, I DON'T WANNA FAAALL ASLEEEP

CUZ HE'LL MISS YOU, AOBA, AND HE DON'T WANNA MISS A THING

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