orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

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.

Ghost had nothing else to say on the matter, always willing to offering answers to questions but not being terribly conversational himself - not unlike his Guardian, though they had different personalities in regards to their willingness to speak at length and what they found interesting. Their voices were vastly different as well. whatever the connection between Ghost and Guardian, it didn't make a complete parallel in the behavior and personalities.

For his part, Declan finished his shower and tried to dress appropriately for being relaxed in his home but also having a guest. Wearing formal clothes was too...formal. Wearing pajamas would require owning some. In the end he settled for his old athletic clothes from sparring in the gym with younger recruits. It was just a pare of gray drawstring pants and a gray tanktop, which meant he was practically bursting out of his clothes but he was covered. The ash-colored fabric stood out against skin that was a pure bluish white from head to toe, muscles sitting on top of muscles flexing as he moved, walking out of the bedroom to loom near the kitchen. He was still sleepy, but the food was important.

"Is there anything I should do to help?" he asked, tilting his head and reaching up to scratch fingers through damp white hair, silver eyes unwavering as he gazed at Aoba.

Aoba glanced backwards and nearly dropped an egg on his foot. At least this time, his stare wasn’t the blushing kind. No, this time Aoba stared in surprise for how massive Declan still was even with all that bulky armor shed from his form. It highlighted, too, how pale and alien Declan’s skintone was, now that Aoba could see so much more of it. It didn’t make the Guardian at all repulsive, though. Not at all.

Eventually, he managed a soft smile. “Just tell me how many eggs you want in your omelet, big guy. You worked hard all night, so now it’s your turn to relax.”

"I can eat a little or a lot. If the eggs keep then you should make smaller portions for me so you can have real food when you want instead of the rations. It's more important for you to have real food and eat than it is for me. I just appreciate the experience, but you genuinely need it. I'll be happy with anything, Aoba," the Guardian smiled, gentle and warm as he finished raking his hair back. For once, albeit briefly as it dried, Declan's hair wasn't in his face. He had no scars, no missing eye, no dark secret behind those bangs other than he was hiding from everyone else. In his home, alone with his virtual stranger of a roommate, the big man seemed less afraid somehow and felt relaxed enough to expose himself.

"My neck is killing me," he mumbled, running a large hand over his face and tilting his head with a groan. "I don't think the new helmet is working out, Ghost."

"The visuals did seem a little impaired. Shall we return to the former outfitting?"

"No...we'll go to the Cryptarch and get those engrams checked out later. Aoba, do you want to go? You can meet Rahool and there might even be some gear more suitable for you than me," Declan asked, gesturing vaguely at no direction in particular.

This guy. Well, Aoba might not have been sure how it was possible for Declan not to need to eat, but it wasn’t wasting food on him if he enjoyed it. Aoba didn’t want to make Declan upset or uncomfortable, though, so…four eggs, he decided. He’d make a four-egg omelet and split it in half. If there were free rations available to be eaten at any time, Aoba was in no danger of starving. Whatever Declan said, Aoba didn’t believe he was more deserving or entitled to real food than his over-generous host was.

He started cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them up, keeping his attention on them as he answered. Honestly, he had…no idea what Declan had really just said there. Some other merchant? But Aoba wouldn’t learn anything—or at least, not as much—if he didn’t go out there and experience this future world.

“Sure, I’ll go.” Wait. Merchant? “…Oh, hey, that reminds me. The clothes I was wearing before, that I came through the portal in…I don’t want to keep them. The Deckers made me wear them, but there’s nothing wrong with them otherwise. I don’t suppose…would Tess or anybody else maybe buy them? I wouldn’t expect much, but, bad memories or not, it seems like a waste to just throw them away….”

"Sure, I don't see why not," Declan remarked, leaning against the counter with his hip and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ms. Everis deals in a lot of things from a lot of places. While she doesn't usually sell anything that isn't new to us Guardians, she sells all kinds of things to collectors. Your clothes might be worth something to someone for purely aesthetic reasons or something else. She'll take them, either way," the Guardian nodded slowly, drumming his fingers idly on his biceps.

"We should get you coded and established in the Tower so you can access more of the basic security level stuff, like shaders. That way you don't have to wear plain gray clothes all the time. You can...pick out some shaders for the apartment, too, if you like. Since I'm sure all the gray can grate on you if you have to see it all the time."

A little worried that it might have been a dumb question, Aoba couldn’t help a small sigh of relief. Even if she only gave him the equivalent of a few yen (one of many things for him to learn: just what currency was around here between those silver coins and glowing crystals), it was still more than the ‘zero’ he had right now.

Now Aoba poured the eggs into the pan. They sizzled pleasantly and Aoba watched closely to make sure they wouldn’t burn. This would only take a couple minutes, if he did it right. But Declan had lost him again….

“Ah. Sorry…what’s a shader and what does it have to do with clothes?”

"You don't have to apologize. It's my fault for talking about things without proper context. A shader is tech developed to apply color and patterns to things without requiring dyes or different fabrics or anything. Like...well, hold on."

He pushed off from the counter, pacing off into his bedroom and tugging his helmet from the pile of armor. Rummaging through his packs he pulled a few shader chips out and returned, setting his battle-scarred helm on the counter.

"These are shaders," he stated, holding up a few coin-sized disks with different colors on them. "Everyone's gear are made using specific material blends that can be affected by shaders. Apply a shader and otherwise plain gray armor--" he said, pulling his white shader from the back of the helmet, the color immediately becoming a dull ash, "can be virtually any color combination you can afford," he added, putting another shader on the armor, turning the glass front a frosted blue and the metal a bright yellow tone.

"I use this shader for when I do the Sparrow races. It makes all your gear really bright so it's easier for the announcers. Then I have this one that I usually use," Declan replaced the previous shader, the helm going a bright white with a pale blue faceplate and the leather turning a glossy purple.

"I got this from the Queen of the Awoken as a gift for helping her with a rebellion. And this one," he traded out shaders again, his faceplate going a smoky brown, the helmet itself splashed with rich green camo print. "It was my first one when I was able to have them. But these can be applied to the home, too. So...you can have white floors, frosted windows and purple furniture with the one from the Queen. Not all clothes can use shaders though. What I'm wearing right now is plain cotton, so it stays gray. Only materials compatible with shaders work. The gear you're wearing isn't of the necessary quality, but we can arrange for that later."

Clothes that changed color from…computer chips? Okay, Aoba was staring. Not the same degree as he had at some other things so far, but he was still staring. As per what was becoming usual, most of the context Declan tried to offer was absolutely lost on Aoba, but he could be stunned enough by the quick color-changes.

At least until he remembered he was supposed to be cooking here. Hearing a sizzle and a pop, Aoba yelped, focusing back on the eggs, giving the pan a little shake and poking the edge of the cooking mixture with his spatula. Not quite thinking things all the way through, he hurried to sprinkle the diced onion, tomato, and cheese into the middle of the mass, then folded it over.

He then hissed to himself when he saw the outside of the omelet was mottled with a lot more brown than he’d been going for. Granny always made hers so nice and fluffy and yellow! Sigh. Well. Nothing do to but let it sit a few moments more to finish setting.

“Damn.” Faintly red-faced, Aoba slid the omelet from its pan onto a plate, then regarded it sullenly. Not burned, but still overcooked, drier than he wanted.

Par for the course for Aoba’s track record in the kitchen, really.

There wasn't any way Declan could have known it was done wrong or not and he didn't seem at all put out by the condition of the eggs, looking at the omelet with the kind of eager curiosity usually reserved for children.

"Is it ready?" he asked, not entirely sure how to tell. "It smells really good," the Guardian remarked, setting his shaders aside and leaning over the counter enough to tilt his head, inspecting the breakfast.

"Thank you for cooking again. It even makes the quarters seem more appealing somehow. Maybe all the smells...Oh, yes. Speaking of which, I have access to a very large range of shaders, so feel free to browse the menu and pick something for the quarters. I'll get it as soon as I can head that way, and any others until you have access to them yourself."

Aoba jumped a little as Declan leaned in. As small as the kitchen area was and as big as Declan was, his host was rather leaning over Aoba as well. It was more than enough to jolt him from his brief sulk, turning his head for a pretty up-close view of Declan’s eager expression—and looking away in a hurry as his blush got a whole lot deeper.

Even the fact that Declan was being so talkative…even if it was something as trivial as those color shader things. Was he really inviting Aoba to change the colors of the place? Home decoration, seriously?

It was a ridiculous thing to think, but for a couple moments, Aoba almost felt like he was turning into the center of Declan’s world.

“It’s, ah…yeah, it’s done,” Aoba agreed, cutting the omelet in half and dividing it up between two plates. “Sorry…I left it in the pan too long so it’ll…probably be a little dry, but it’s still okay to eat.”

Declan nodded his understanding, sliding his plate closer and setting to the food with his characteristic gusto. He did happen to glance at Aoba and wondered about the other man's face. Was he uncomfortable with the closeness? He hadn't intended to get in the way, but he was overlarge and couldn't always help it. Thinking he'd crowded Aoba too much, Declan shuffled away, holding his plate close as he cut and devoured the omelette.

Gosh, that sure was nice...

"I don't know if it's dry or not. It tastes great, though. I like all the...the bits, in it," he remarked, not sure what to call it. He shrugged it off, eating near the counter so he could return his plate when he was through. He debated over the pros and cons of staying awake and being a good host versus getting more rest and being a safer soldier. He didn't strictly need sleep, but it was always better to be well rested. Still, he felt bad leaving Aoba milling about with nothing to do.

"You know, you're not restricted to the quarters, right? If you get bored, you can always go explore the Tower. Anywhere you aren't allowed to be you won't be able to get into, anyways. So don't feel like you have to stay here. I don't want you to sit around doing nothing while I'm just sleeping. You should stretch your legs and do what you like."

Aoba watched Declan from the corner of his eye for a few moments. Once reassured that the omelet wasn’t too terrible after all, he picked up his own half of it and followed Declan’s example, eating while they stood right at the sink there like the couple of bachelors that they were.

It wasn’t bad, thank goodness. Would have been lighter and fluffier if Granny had been the one cooking but…on the scale of possible results when it came to Aoba cooking, it wasn’t too bad.

He managed to nod after Declan spoke, swallowing his bite before answering. “I figured I’d take Ren and go see Tess, and look around a bit with those maps Ghost gave us. Ah, which reminds me, he’s still in sleep mode in your room…I’ll go get him before you turn in.”

Which also reminded Aoba that he hadn’t made the bed behind him or anything. Should he offer to change the sheets? It wasn’t like he was a guy who sweated a lot in his sleep or anything like that, but…well, Declan sure would be ‘treated’ to the sight of his bed in an unmade, sleep-rumpled state.

Oh, wait…he’d already been in the bedroom to change. Too late for that, then.

He had passed it up and only glanced long enough to be pleased that Aoba had slept at all. The fact that it was a mess didn't bother him in the least. Really the main reason his home was so clean was because he had nothing else to do with his time, ever. He cleaned because it helped fill the hours that ticked by with nothing for him to do. Besides, it was just a bed.

"Don't let Ms. Everis poke around Ren too much. She's a good woman, but she'll sell just about anything and she'll spend all day trying to buy him off of you if you don't make it pretty clear he's not for sale. She's tough like that," he sighed, finishing off his omelette and glancing around to make sure there was nothing else before setting his plate down and rising it, only to stop when he remembered that Aoba seemed to prefer having something to do. He would have puzzled over whether it was more polite to clean everything up as he normally would or to leave the task behind, but he knew Aoba couldn't be expected to wait for his confusion and let the plate settle.

"I took the leftovers last night. Thank you. It was nice to have later," he mumbled, standing there in awkward silence for a time before gesturing towards his room.

"I'm...uh...I'm going to go sleep, now. Unless you wanted to do something or needed to talk? I can clean up," maybe he wasn't so decided on the matter. Still. "I'm not sure what to do," he admitted after a moment, frowning faintly.

"I should sleep some, because it's better for me, but I feel bad leaving you alone so much when you're not even settled in yet. And I promised to help you, but we haven't even talked about how...I'm sorry. I'm not very good at hosting."

Declan’s indecision gave Aoba something else to focus on, at least: something outside himself and his own confusions. He blinked, lifting his head, and finally offered a smile he hoped was reassuring.

“Declan, you’ve already been a better host than I could have even hoped for. I don’t think anyone I know back home would have gone so far for a total stranger, especially one making such weird claims as I have…and that includes me, too.” There might be a lesson in generosity to learn in here, somewhere.

Aoba reached up and patted Declan’s shoulder. It was like patting a warm mountain, but it was a deliberate gesture of camaraderie. “Get some sleep, you deserve it. I have your numbers now, so I promise, Ren or I will call you if we run into anything we really need help about.”

He hunched slightly, though the patting seemed to cheer him somewhat and he looked less crestfallen when he straightened and nodded his agreement. It was much easier for him when he had a second opinion. sometimes he would disagree and find out what he wanted to do, sometimes he'd go with what the other person said because it was clearly sensible if he had already deliberated on the same point. Sleeping sounded good and if Aoba was sure he was alright...

"As long as you promise. I don't mind being woken up if you need something. If you run into any problems at all, call me, alright?" he rumbled, looking serious for all his generally gentle expressions. Dusting his hands off and looking around the apartment for anything else that might need his immediate attention, the Guardian eventually decided there was nothing demanding his presence and nodded, heading for bed. He stopped in the doorway, turning to watch Aoba for a long moment before murmuring "Good night, Aoba," and closing the door behind him. Ghost watched the entire meal and departure in silence, content to observe.

Aoba watched the door close and…ah.

“…He just shut the door with Ren still in there with him.”

Ren had been on the bed with him, of course. Declan would be able to spot the furry little construct right there on one of the pillows, curled up in sleep mode. In his own sleep-groggy daze, Aoba had neglected to rouse his little companion after he’d woken, himself.

Welp. Nothing else to be done. Aoba put his plate down and walked over to the bedroom door, resigning himself to a bit more awkwardness as he knocked softly upon it.

"C-come in?" Declan called softly from where he'd ended up squatting at the edged of the bed, both hands on the mattress and head resting onthe backs of his knuckles as he stared at Ren. He didn't know what to do. Was it like a real dog? Would he wake up? Would he move on his own? Should he get Aob--oh thank the Traveler, Aoba was knocking.

When the door opened, Declan looked up, mildly fretful and whispering, "I didn't want to wake him up!" Because that would be rude and everyone needed sleep. Even Exo's powered down on occasion, so wouldn't Ren be the same? Besides that, Ren wasn't his property so it wouldn't be right of him to handle the dog.

In retrospect, Aoba probably shouldn’t have thought knocking on Declan’s door ten seconds after he’d shut it would be taken as rude or annoying. Still, he ended up being relieved by Declan’s blurted whisper, not to mention the way he was all hunched at the bed like a king-sized kid. A guy as big as he was had no right to be so…innocently ignorant. It was downright endearing.

“It’s alright,” Aoba answered softly, stepping over. “He’s in sleep mode. He’ll only wake up if I do—”

He stroked the little Allmate between the ears. There was an immediate chime and Ren’s eyes popped open as he looked around. If he was startled by Declan’s proximity, he didn’t show it.

“Good morning Aoba, Declan. Is everything alright?”

“Mm, everything’s fine,” Aoba said, scooping his partner into his arms. “It’s just Declan’s turn to sleep. Sorry for forgetting him in here,” Aoba then directed to their host, even as he was already beelining back to the door and slipping through it. “Rest well, and we’ll see you later.”

He gave Declan a moment, then click! Shut the door between them again, now with his Allmate properly in his company.

He was left blinking owlishly at the closed door before he stood, climbed into the bed and settled on his back to stare at the ceiling. His sheets smelled different. Turning his head a bit, Declan sniffed at the pillows, curious until he realized it was Aoba he was smelling. Granted it smelled mostly like his own soap and shampoo, but there was something unfamiliar there as well, making Declan turn away and stare at the ceiling with color rising to his cheeks. He had no idea what it even meant and gave up on trying to understand, turning onto his side away from the scent on the pillow and closing his eyes.

He slept through most of the day, steadily breathing, chest rising and falling heavily if Aoba chanced to peek in or needed to use the connected bathroom - something neither of them had thought about. Two people in a single occupant home was bound to be a bit of a tango. He didn't wake up again until well after noon, shuffling out of his bedroom and getting a glass of water to sip while he stared out the windows, oblivious to his surroundings for a long time before he looked around in search of Aoba.

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