orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

"I'm bothered," the Titan replied softly, looking up with measurable concern. "You're split somehow. That can't be healthy. Whether you're two halves of a whole or two people entirely independent of each other, you're struggling in ways I can't being to fathom. You're hurting, in a way, and that bothers me."

Reaching over and picking up the artifact, Declan turns the glittering thing in his hand, looking between Aoba and Ren.

"I can put this away for you...I'm sorry if one of my gifts cause you pain," the pale man remarked, nodding slowly before closing his eyes with a soft sigh.

"Ren knows you better than I do. I'm sure he knows what to do."

Two halves of a whole, or two independent people…? Aoba’s head hurt just trying to imagine either of those scenarios, though that was a metaphorical statement rather than a literal one. Neither one sounded good, much less anything like the lesser of two evils. Tea already forgotten again after that one sip, he watched Declan pick up that suspended, gleaming crystal. What had he said about it? The colors of your heart, or something like that?

Ren looked relieved to see it in Declan’s grasp, ears upright as he began, “I think removing it is a good id-“

Not a good idea.

“-Wait, wait, hold on,” Aoba cut in, interrupting, goaded by something like a gut instinct—or an impulsive thought from his hindmost brain. That crystal was the last thing he remembered looking at, so the evidence was there alright. “If there’s some…locked up part of me that it brought out, isn’t taking it away like throwing away the key?”

“I was not thinking of it in those terms, but the analogy is not inaccurate,” Ren answered, deep voice lending him a sternness that his fluffy form didn’t naturally possess. “If we get rid of the ‘key’ and you stay on your medications, then what just happened will never happen again.”

“…Can you really be sure of that? Declan says keeping part of me locked up can’t be healthy and I, I think he’s right. If that’s been the source of my headaches all along, wouldn’t they only get worse?”

Ren’s ears were back to being held backwards, though now unhappily and wary, rather than angry. “Aoba…I think the phrase would be, ‘I have a bad feeling’. I don’t trust it.”

“Me? You mean you don’t trust me?”

“That…didn’t feel like you. I’m not entirely sure how to explain it except to say that I don’t think you should listen to anything said by—by that other side of you.”

The back and forth kept Declan's attention, insofar as he was listening but staying out of it for the moment. Turning the crystal over in his hands, he had his own thoughts and kept his own counsel. It was just as well; hardly anyone valued the Titan's opinions on things. Titans were so often dismissed as little more than walking blocades, himself even more so for how slow he seemed to grasp the most basic concepts and how little he actively communicated with others outside of combat.

Those were things that he didn't care about. But he cared about Aoba. So speak up, god dammit!

"I trust you. Both of you. Well. I mean...all three of you," he muttered, instantly regretting speaking up, but pushing through nonetheless.

"...Um...hm...I...Sometimes I get angry..." He started, trailing off a moment and looking at the artifact. Inhaling deeply and uttering a tremulous, almost frightened sigh, the Guardian continued.

"...I don't...think I'm a bad person. I try to be a good man - I really do. I know what's right and wrong. I know it's wrong to hurt people, but sometimes I just get so angry," Declan paused, looking down at his free hand, balled into a fist and trembling. He forced himself to relax again, pale eyes drifting up between Ren and Aoba.

"Everyone has parts of themselves they aren't proud of. Parts they can't control. Some people have uncontrollably sad parts, like Mac. Some have uncontrollably angry parts, like me. Everyone has something. But...we can't ignore those parts, or shut them away. We grow around them, right? We take those parts we aren't proud of, and we make them into strengths. Mac is so honest and loyal. I became a Titan. My anger has saved lives. I might think it's ugly...but it helped me meet you," Declan remarked, gesturing vaguely and tilting his head, the curtain of his dried hair drifting over one eye.

"Ren...Aoba...what if the parts of you that you're cutting off, are things that are part of what make you beautiful? Roses..." He paused, struggling to collect his thoughts, to put his abstract ideas into coherent words when it was probably the most he'd talked all at once in most of his life.

"Roses are perfect because of the sum of all their parts. Not just the petals. The scent, the stem, the leaves, the inside parts you don't see but that keep the bush flourishing every year. Even the thorns. What if you're pulling off the petals and hiding your own luster? Or cutting off your thorns and leaving yourself defenseless? I'm not saying...that I trust it all to be safe. But I think you should both consider everything before making any hurried decisions. I won't get rid of this," he paused, holding up the artifact.

"I'll store it in my lock box. If you want to try again, you can ask me for it. I'll stand by all parts of you, Aoba."

Perhaps Aoba had a fortunate advantage in this way: this world wasn’t his own. He may have learned the words for the different kinds of Guardians and had a rough idea of each’s role, but he had no innate assumptions. Declan was quiet compared to many, sure, and especially so in comparison to people Aoba had seen around him like Mac and Cayde-6, but never would Aoba dismiss his kindness, thoughtfulness, and generosity for it.

So Declan spoke and Aoba listened, patient as the big Guardian pieced together some surprisingly poetic imagery with his unpracticed words…even if he had trouble imagining his pale, statuesque benefactor anything like angry. Two weeks from their meeting, and even if most of their interactions had been over those video calls, Aoba had yet to see anything that made him think the man deserved to be called ‘Decker’.

At the offer to lock the Heart away, which seemed to Aoba to run counter to everything he’d just been advised, he put his hand out and over Declan’s wrist again.

“You don’t have to put it away, Declan. It’s not like I’m…afraid of it or anything.”

“Aoba-”

“No, Ren,” he cut off his Allmate again, though this time he softened the words by stroking between Ren’s ears with his free hand. “I mean, sure, it’s all really confusing and, honestly, kind of upsetting to suddenly learn there’s a part of me I don’t even know, and that Granny never told me about, but….”

Aoba fumbles briefly, trying to piece it all together. He can look at the Heart again if he really wants to, maybe, but as much as he finds himself resisting the suggestion of locking it away from himself, the argument against it that he settles on ends up being something far less complicated.

“…You brought that back for me, Declan. I want to be able to see it in my collection along with all the other pieces, too.”

An earned reputation was seldom something one could run away from, no matter how hard they tried to be someone else. Declan still had a lot of anger, but he let it out in battle. In places like the bar, where he felt anxious and threatened in a public setting, he sometimes lashed out at those that made good targets. Aoba, however, didn't upset him in the least. Or, not in the same way, at any rate.

"I wouldn't think poorly of your granny," Declan responded after a moment of staring down at the hand over his wrist, careful not to move his hand in any way that might make Aoba withdraw.

"You speak well of her. She probably did what she thought was best at the time...but now you know, and it's up to you to make your own decisions. Whatever they are, I'll support you." He paused, looking up at the other man for a moment, one of those fluttering smiles of his lifting his lips for just a moment before he realized he'd lifted his other hand, fingers outstretched as though moving to touch Aoba's face. Glancing at his own palm as though it had in some way betrayed him, the Titan quickly placed it down at his side again, confused. A moment ticked and he cleared his throat with a nod.

"Still, I'll put it back in it's box for tonight. You--"

"If I might interject?" Ghost piped up, making a little "hem hem" sound, emulating clearing a throat he didn't have, for effect.

"I suggest in the morning you go to Jolyene and discuss the matter. Approach it like dissociative identity disorder, creating a personality as a defense after past trauma. She'll have resources she can give you. Probably be able to help you find a way to have more control over the back and forth. Offer different medications based on the findings. Since it's clearly more than just a medical issue causing headaches."

Declan merely nodded again, knowing the woman would have a vast knowledge of things to try. Maybe it would make it easier on Aoba? Both parts of him. If they were able to come to terms, maybe the other Aoba wouldn't sound so upset...

"Aoba...Are you..." Attracted to me? He wanted to ask, but choked at the last second, cheeks that pale lavender as he reached up and scratched the side of his neck. "...hungry?" Saved.

Aoba felt like some important kind of moment had just—veered off and passed him by, just barely grazing him with the wind of its passing. This was, of course, in reference to the hand that fluttered up and then away without landing anywhere at all…even with Aoba’s head tilted the faintest reactive degree, thoughts half bewildered by what had seemed to be a moment of reaching, but also half expectant of it.

But nothing at all happened and even Aoba himself could feel oddly stymied, watching the blush rise on Declan’s cheeks.

Well, it at least served a partial purpose in distraction, if nothing else. He had more than enough to suddenly think about already without getting sidetracked by—whatever it was. Or wasn’t. So there were two votes now for him to see Jolene, and Aoba quietly agreed, offering an unfocused nod of his own in response to the suggestions. His own hand was still on Declan’s wrist, and his thumb made a single soft, stroking motion, just one little unconscious betrayal of his own awkward wonderings.

“No, I’m…not right now. But in a little while, probably,” he managed, looking between three faces that were vastly different in outward appearance, but united in their concern for him. It was a feeling both humbling and comforting.

“Probably soon enough that we can go ahead and start making something. There’s plenty of ingredients in the fridge. I wanted to be able to make you something really good when you got home, but…right now I think I’d just get really distracted and burn everything. Is it alright to rely on you for help this time, Declan?”

Aoba hardly expected to be refused, but asking felt better than assuming, even when he already knew the answers.

And there they continued to sit for the moment, Declan as sure as shackled by the light weight of Aoba's hand and the tightness in his shoulders and neck coupled with a flutter in his chest when that thumb brushed his skin.

He couldn't stop the audible swallowing noise as he stared at the other man, not quite processing the words he heard at first.

"What? Yes. Sorry. Of course. If you don't mind my getting in the way a bit, I'd be happy to help in the kitchen. You can count on me," the Titan stated a bit too seriously, nodding once and looking almost grim. Going into cooking battle, evidently.

He felt better with the asking alright…but boy did he still feel bad that he couldn’t give Declan the ‘no effort required welcome-home dinner’ he’d originally envisioned. Add one more thing to the list of everything Aoba already owed him for.

“You can’t get in the way in your own kitchen,” Aoba pointed out with a bit of a lopsided smile, giving Declan one more friendly (and definitely a more conscious) squeeze before releasing him. Ren got a ruffling too before Aoba moved him from his lap and to the floor.

His tea, still stubbornly retaining some of its warmth, came with him as Aoba stood up from the couch and surveyed all those worried faces. “So let’s just…table this whole thing for the night, okay? I’ll go see Jolene in the morning, but for now we can just focus on dinner. Declan, since you liked it so much before, I got the things to make nikujaga again.”

Another vague, unsure smile at the squeeze, and Declan was up and following Aoba, bare feet slapping softly on the tiles. He nodded with a small sound of acknowledgment regarding the dish, pleased taht tehy were having something he already knew and liked and that he had enough memory of it to legitimately assist in the making.

"Thank you. I appreciate the consideration," he murmured, gathering dishes and utensils and carefully setting them in reach in tidy arrangement.

"Aoba...have you considered coming with me off the planet?" he asked, glancing the man's way as they maneuvered around one another in the process of preparing the meal.

"I made sure to have one of my other ships with more space taken down from the hangar storage. That way we can take the more scenic route like you asked about. More room to live in instead of just taking a hyperspace jump."

Aoba had splurged somewhat more this time around, now that he had his own earnings to go by rather than having to pull from Declan’s savings. No matter how much everyone said Declan could afford it (including Declan himself), it just didn’t sit well with him to be using someone else’s money so freely. If it had been some kind of situation where they were both contributing to a shared pool of funds, that would have been significantly different, but with the way things stood….

He wasn’t anybody’s kept man, okay? And they weren’t any kind of other situation where shared funds would have been appropriate, so-

So apparently his thoughts were just going to be all over the place to avoid thinking about his ‘buried personality’ or whatever was going on, and settling on more embarrassing things instead? Great. But still, Declan wasn’t hard at all to maneuver around as Aoba in turn got out the various ingredients to prep. He’d gotten some green beans for color along with the potatoes, carrots, and onions of before, some higher-grade cuts of meat, and rice to prepare on the side…and a deep fryer. Although maybe he wasn’t going to be up to try and replicate Granny’s donuts tonight, there was always next time.

And then he heard ‘one of my other ships’. As in spaceships. Declan had…multiple spaceships?

…Did that mean he wasn’t just well-off, but that he was some kind of low-key millionaire??

“Uh…well, um, yeah actually. It’s so commonplace for you, it seems like…I should try it at least once.” Before I have to go, he stops himself from saying. He has to get back home, but for one reason or another, he doesn’t want to call more attention to that necessary fact than he has to. He just wants to enjoy this time with his new friend as much as he can…. “You can barely see the sky where I live, much less fly in it. Or past it.”

Not a millionaire, just a discerning collector of derelict things. Find a ship in reasonable repair crashed somewhere or floating in space debris and Amanda Holladay could have it in prime shape in no time. He took full advantage of that, being a person prone to picking up things others threw away. Even his Ghost's shell was something he'd found. Though you wouldn't be able to tell for how proudly the little thing wore it.

"When you go home-" because Declan wasn't going to selfishly imply Aoba couldn't by saying 'if, "-I want you to have the memory of seeing the stars. If it's so rare or impossible where or when you're from...it would be nice to have the virtual eternity of space shared between us. I can look at the stars and know we still have that to connect us. It will have to be enough."

He didn't know the ways what he said could be construed. He didn't mean more or less than what the words said on there own, his honesty so open and plain-faced. He didn't dance around things, try to hide them or push them one way or the other. They simply were. Declan hoped Aoba would be able to go home, because that was where Aoba wanted to be. He also hoped Aoba would keep being there, but he wasn't selfish enough to wish that over the former. It would content him to know that when he camped on the moon and gazed up at the stars, somewhere a million miles and a thousand years ago, Aoba was there and those stars were his, too. He couldn't guiltlessly ask for more, and it wasn't his right.

"You should pick some places you'd like to see," he added after leaning over and sniffing the rice, curious. "But I'm definitely taking you to see the Reef. It's the only place that has actual lodgings. Anywhere else we stay when we visit, we'll be camping."

When you go home. So Declan had the honesty to say it plainly even though Aoba didn’t…and why did that make him feel somehow like a heel? Was it bad to avoid thinking about the actual act of leaving, even though he knew he had to find a way back home? It wasn’t like he shouldn’t, and Declan was doing everything it seemed that he could to help Aoba return, so why mince around the subject, exactly?

Oh. That was why. Declan leaned in to sniff the rice, giving Aoba a very good look at his alabaster profile lowered more to his own level as he reeled at the implications that he sure as heck heard in words as poetic as those. But then he had to tell himself, Declan couldn’t possibly mean it that way. As sweet and open and honest as the Guardian was about literally everything else Aoba could think of, it wouldn’t be buried in pretty words if he meant anything more than just what he said, right? And Aoba—Aoba was probably just still reeling over being treated so nicely after being pushed around by the Deckers, and stressed out over all of this world-hopping business and whatever it really meant to have a ‘buried side of his personality’, and—what good would thinking about anything else even do him, really?

It was enough for Aoba to even feel irritated with himself for harboring such ridiculous, distracting thoughts-

…irritated because you don’t say anything, idiot…

-and it certainly didn’t help that he felt like it was there glaring at him from some secret space on the inside of his forehead that only he was conscious of: something like a choice between Say Something and Don’t Say Anything. He knew which one he wanted to pick, but if it just ended up being something painful or awkward or purely pointless….

‘It will have to be enough.’ Declan had already moved on to saying other things, but that’s where Aoba’s thoughts stayed stuck. Stirring ingredients into the pot, he found himself speaking after all.

“…what if…it didn’t have to be?”

"Enough?" Declan asked, looking up slowly before righting himself, padding the two steps closer to loom at Aoba's side. He gazed down at his friend, hands itching once again to reach out, though they stayed one to his side, the other palm flat on the counter.

"It...won't be," he admitted, sighing softly, breath carrying far enough to just slightly tickle Aoba's hair into fluttering.

"I will miss you, Aoba. But I would never try to keep you here. You have people that you care about; a life, somewhere else. In the end, I am a stranger in a distant future. I can't possibly take the place of real family. If you had nothing to go back to, I'd..." He paused, looking away, gazing out the nearby wall-to-wall window.

"...If you had nothing to go back to, I'd wonder why you'd leave. I would be the happiest man to give you a life here, but I'm not fool enough to try to take the place of loved ones. So I will give you the stars, and I will give you precious things I find, and when you leave...I will hope that you think of me fondly, wherever you are, but that you are happiest where you end up."

Oh god. What had he done. He was straight up going to die of embarrassment now. Declan was close, the warmth of his breath tickling his hair and setting goosebumps up the back of his neck, but the only thing Aoba found intimidating about the Titan’s size and presence was how it suddenly set his own heart to pounding.

It wouldn’t be. Declan would miss him. And though Aoba knew himself well enough to know he’d resent anyone forcing him to stay in one place—like the ‘real’ Deckers had—that didn’t stop it from being an equal amount of reassuring to hear that Declan wouldn’t try.

But by the same token, it didn’t stop the irregular pounding of his heart, either. It was his own fault, saying what he did and opening it up for Declan to say those sweetly embarrassing things, but he couldn’t say he disliked it.

“…That’s not how it works,” he continued to murmur, staring down into the pot of nikujaga as he stirred it around. If he didn’t make eye contact, didn’t visually confirm that powerful, reassuring presence right there beside him, he could almost pretend he was just talking out loud to himself. “People we care about…it’s not like anyone ever gets replaced. It just…turns into a longer list.”

Two weeks. He’d known the guy two weeks and most of it by phone calls. He was stressed out, there was way too much going on all at once, he probably wasn’t even thinking clearly, but he sure never imagined he’d ever find himself in a place where the thought of leaving it would make him somehow sad.

“…The portals are always there, you know? They’re one-way, but they’re permanent. Once I know the way back home…I’ll still know the way back here, too.”

Pale eyes squinted for a moment, considering the words, unsure of the meaning. When it finally clicked, the Titan's face changed drastically. It wasn't that he never smiled - he did, and often, though only in small flutters - but that it was the first real and stable smile Aoba had probably ever seen. The idea that Aoba could go home and might still return...While it had been hinted at here and there in snippets of conversations between them, Declan had deliberately not pressed the man about his circumstances more than necessary. To have confirmation that it was possible, and more importantly that Aoba would *want* to return? It was strange to think that the Guardian had never felt such relief before in his life.

And he'd *died* before, only to resurrected. One would think that was the greatest relief one could experience.

"Then you have two homes, Aoba. You will always have a place here. Maybe I can always feel like I did while out on the field these last weeks? That someday I'll come home, and it won't be empty."

Aoba made a mistake. He looked. But could it really be called a mistake, to dare a glance and see a warm, persistent smile on Declan’s face in exchange? Maybe the price of being tomato-red in the face wasn’t too much to pay after all.

“I don’t know how long it might take,” he somehow managed to continue, averting his eyes again but finding a smile of his own somewhere in it nonetheless. “It’s only two portals from Midorijima to here, but once I leave here…who knows how many it could be.”

Looked like he could say it now, at least: the admittance of having to go. If Declan had hesitated to wonder if Aoba could return, then perhaps in turn Aoba had worried he might not be welcome back if he went. Or something else ridiculous like that.

“But…if it’s at all possible…then I hope I’ll be able to come back to you.”

…well it’s a start I guess…

Right. And Aoba was going to die, right here, right now, face-first into the stew. Please tell him that choked little noise of surprise hadn’t come from Ren.

There was silence a moment, Declan gazing at Aoba with an unreadable expression, having seen the colors bloom, the expressions. He wasn't a man experienced enough in interacting with people to know what everything meant, but he believed he wasn't entirely unwelcome in Aoba's space, so he took a brief chance.

"So long as there is Light in the universe, I can wait," the Titan stated with confidence. If his Ghost survived, he was, in essence, completely immortal. He would be patient as long as it took, he mused, long fingertips following in their whim and gently stroking the ends of Aoba's hair resting closest to his heart before tapping that spot on the man's chest. Just a small touch, barely grazing anything at all, but it was at least not an aborted attempt at closeness.

"Please do not forget me, Aoba."

Well Aoba wasn’t sure about the first, but that second little noise of surprise definitely came from him. The nerves in Aoba’s hair were at their most dull state at those faded tips (and he had yet to give himself the haircut that he was sorely in need of) but far from dead. He felt that touch and felt it keenly, but instead of it being for pain it was because of how very aware of it he was.

“I-” His words tried to start up without any thoughts to go with them, scattered as they were. He’d never, ever liked anyone touching his hair, but it hadn’t hurt—and he found himself certain that hands like Declan’s would be just as gentle with it as Aoba himself would be. Not just at the tips, but at any part of the growth.

Could Declan feel his heart pounding with a touch that brief? It seemed almost impossible that the Guardian wouldn’t, with how that overexcited organ was rushing all of Aoba’s blood to his face.

“I…definitely won’t ever do that,” he managed to agree after some fumbling. He wasn’t unhappy, anything but, but he was out. If he admitted anything more than what he already had, he was absolutely going to die. His fingers were definitely on the shaky side as he turned the heat down under the nikujaga, but he didn’t regret anything. He was just…at his limit for today, he thought.

He reached for bowls to fill, and decided it was enough just to add, “You’re not allowed to forget me either, Declan.”

"Is that an order?" Declan asked, smiling softly, cheeks coloring as he shook his head. It was a foolish bit of ribbing, but the way Aoba said it, so authoritative. It honestly warmed the Titan.

"I've known many people in my life, Aoba. Many have come and went, and I'd hazard to say many might have been friends...But none of them have...been with me..." he fumbled for words again, raising his hand to his own chest, patting the white skin. "...None have been in here, the same way. I can't forget you, Aoba. And I wouldn't want to. I said you would always have a home here, but that wasn't about my apartment. That can crumble....I might be stationed somewhere else. That is what I meant, Aoba," Declan reiterated, tapping his chest again.

"Here. Always a place. Understand?" the big man asked, brows lifting a moment before he offered one of those brief smiles again and turned to make place settings for them to eat.

Edited 2018-10-07 22:52 (UTC)

If Aoba had been something electrical, he absolutely one hundred percent would have shorted out and blown a fuse right then and there. He was almost pulling a Declan-like maneuver himself at this point, hanging his head and peeking out from below his bangs, but he watched the Guardian step away with a tightness somewhere between his throat and his chest.

Not to say it felt entirely bad, though.

Aoba wasn’t…sure…if that made them anything, exactly, and upon second and third thought it probably didn’t, but at least…at least he could come back here, sometime, when it was possible. Even if he never made sense of all his confused what-ifs and what-if-nots, Declan’s genuine, easygoing friendship was one he didn’t want to have to say goodbye to. That was okay, wasn’t it? To just want to see someone again?

He’d said what he wanted, and Declan had returned that feeling, so…yeah.

His hands were steadier by the time Declan had places set, so Aoba managed to put out the bowls of nikujaga and accompanying bowls of rice without mishap. He felt lighter, in the aftermath of admitting some of his wants…and even Desire, though still unknown, felt satisfied at having been heard at least a little. Fresh cups of tea accompanied the meal, and with Declan sitting safely and unharmed across from him once again, even testing Ren’s extended new functions by having him set up an appointment with Jolene didn’t result in any particular extra stress.

It was weirdly easy to keep the conversation to ‘normal’ things after that. Not about headaches, or alternate personalities, or portals, or any of that. Just the easy day-to-day, like they would have talked if this had been another video call instead of face to face.

He would sleep more soundly that night than any night since Declan had originally departed—and not even Desire himself would see fit to disrupt it.

Except that it would be the first night the two slept in the same room together, because against all odds, Declan had time off. So the regular bed and the trundle would be occupied. But that was for later, and during the meal the two were able to talk casually as if it were something they'd done for ages. Two weeks over video gave them an ease to it, segueing naturally from millions of miles to less than a meter apart.

When the meal finally concluded and Declan finished telling Aoba about a time he and a group of other Guardians fought all the way through a Cabal stronghold on Mars and accidentally cleared the whole thing out when they were just supposed to "investigate", the Guardian paused to consider something.

"Aoba," he murmured, gathering up dishes and setting them in the sink, the water hissing as he rinsed things. "Do you want to learn to fight or use weapons?"

Talk about your lack of segues. With Declan handling the dishes and his own appointment set for the morning, Aoba was ready to turn in for the night. His heart felt lighter and his head didn’t hurt, but with food in his belly he just felt exhausted all of a sudden. The question caught him pretty solidly off guard.

“Uh.” It stopped him quite short for a moment or three, to both think through his automatic answer in the additional light of the potential context. What he thought of fighting and weapons were just…playing pretend compared to going to war like Declan did.

“I’m…really not Guardian material, if that’s what that’s asking,” he answered, slowly at first until his thoughts caught up. “I can take care of myself if a punk or two gets too rowdy back home, but I don’t use weapons.”

He blinked, chuckling softly for a moment before stifling a snorted laugh. It was the first time he'd actually laughed with Aoba, and he struggled, for whatever reason, not to. He he wasn't completely sure why. Maybe because it felt too unfamiliar.

"You'd make a good Guardian, I think. It's about who you are, more than anything. The Light in you. You have plenty. But...no. I meant as recreation more than anything. You work, sure, but when I'm gone I don't know what there is to do. In the Tower, there's the Iron Lords, lead by Lord Saladin Forge. They train...*everyone*. I thought you might like the environment and the exercise. And...the discipline," he mused, stacking the dishes he finished with and turning to lean against the counter.

"Martial arts training isn't just physical, it's mental, too. Finding your mental center, knowing yourself. I was just thinking...medicine might not be the right approach to what's going on with you. Medication tends to dull senses and sort of..." he gestured vaguely. "--Pull a veil over things? Shroud it. Maybe if you don't muddy things so much, you can find your own balance? Plus, it never hurts to have a good right hook," the Titan remarked, fist whooshing through the air in a blink, a brutal, solid shadow box that made it clear how he laid people out. It was also a joke at his own expense, tentative, a small smile following.

Aoba wasn’t sure what was so funny, but—it was hard to wonder over it too much when Declan was actually laughing. It was enough of a sense of wonder that it kept him from feeling affronted at the thought he was being laughed at.

Well, either way, the Guardian wasn’t without a point. They already knew, now, that whatever Granny had been medicating him with had just been burying the problem. Martial arts and meditation, though? Aoba’s first reaction to that, it had to be admitted, was a strong feeling of reluctance.

“It’s true to say that Aoba does not have nearly as much discipline as would be good for him,” Ren could be heard to say, and that Aoba took a little personally.

“O-oi,” he stammered, glaring a little at the Allmate, but not too harshly. It was one of the few things Ren had said since Aoba had refused having the Prismatic Heart removed from his collection of gifts. He shifted his attention back to Declan soon enough.

The Titan’s unfortunate dubbing of ‘Decker’ actually didn’t even occur to him at that bit of shadow-boxing. After all, he had no reason of his own to associate the alternate name with the Declan that he knew and that had so far been the only one he’d ever seen. He met that little smile with one of his own, shifting his stance for a moment as he considered something. There was enough of a giveaway in the movement that an experienced soldier like Declan probably wouldn’t be surprised when Aoba spun out a lesser version of one of his roundhouse kicks.

Most definitely lesser, since he was full, didn’t want to accidentally break anything in the kitchen, and because of how lightly he let the front of his foot tap off Declan’s elbow for his kind-of counter-demonstration. Aoba could have jostled him more hitting him with a pillow instead, really.

“It’s not exactly a right hook, but…” he trailed off, setting his foot back on the ground. “I’ll see what Jolene has to say after she checks me over again.”

The amusement stemmed from Aoba thinking for a moment that he wasn't Guardian material. There were few things Declan was certain of in his life, but that was definitely one. Split personalities or not, Aoba was the unequivocal "good guy". Much like the blue-haired man believed Declan to be.

When the man spun, lg raised, prepared for a solid kick, then cheekily toe-tapping the Titan's arm, pale eyes were wide, lips parted just slightly.

For the first time in Declan's entire life (at least the years he'd lived since resurrecting as a Guardian), he felt the coil of genuine arousal. He did not like it. Not in the sense that it was something he felt he actively needed to fight, not in the sense that it repulsed him (he didn't even know what it was at first), but that he couldn't believe for a moment that he was capable, that it was happening, that it was because of Aoba. It was wrong on a very different level than something as childish as 'ew gross'. Heat crawled up the back of his neck and the pale color that often rose to his cheeks start suffusing his entire frame.

It was all the span of a few seconds, but felt like ages to Declan, the Guardian eventually shaking himself free of his mental paralysis. This was...something he needed to think about on his own. Later.

"You'd...make an incredible Hunter..." he managed to get out, a bit strained. But...then he was imagining Aoba kitted out in Hunter gear...leather-clad leg swinging out, heavy boot slamming into a Vex construct, kicking it's head clean off. The skies of Venus on the backdrop, Declan pulling the trigger and taking the thing down. Aoba's cloak in the breeze and Declan's gun propped on his shoulder as they--...

"Dinner is cleared up. I'm sure you could use some rest. It's been such a long day for you. A lot of...revelations...I'm going for a jog around the tower, then I'll sleep." What was this? Like a dam breaking? Was that how it worked? One funny thought and suddenly chaos? He didn't like it. It wasn't right, wasn't appropriate. He had no business thinking...thoughts. He needed to clear his head. Immediately.

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