orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

Aoba was sound asleep well, well before the Titan made it home. After a short, uneventful shower of his own, he curled up on his side in his trundle bed, headphones on and Ren at his feet, and never even twitched once when Declan passed through.

For the duration of Declan's insomnia, he was only something perhaps picturesque: unbound hair pooling over his back and shoulders, expression gently at ease and maybe even smiling. All things considered, he managed to go to bed without worrying. Without having experienced anything of his supposed other side except what the others told him, it was relegated to almost an afterthought.

In the morning, he puzzled over how innocent -- even childlike -- Declan looked huddled at the edge of the bed like that. Was that how he normally slept? Aoba had no way of knowing, since they'd never shared the room at the same time before.

He dressed quietly, had a simple breakfast of a prepackaged ration, and used the first crystal he'd been given as a gift much as he had once before: although on the kitchen table this time to be more obviously placed, it held down another handwritten note. This time it was actually in the local language, thanks to Ren being able to run a proper translation for Aoba to copy over from a displayed window. A memo of good morning, that he was off to his appointment, and would be back afterwards.

It felt a nicer thing than just leaving him electronic messages.

Rolling out of bed and aching for the way he'd fallen asleep, Declan lurched around the apartment, unsure of the reason for his unusual morning gloom. When he saw the note under the crystal he brightened instantly, then slumped again, realizing Mac was right...

He had those kinds of feelings. Otherwise, why be down when Aoba was gone and back up the instant there was some indication of his presence, some proof of his return? Groaning to himself and running a hand down his face, the Titan read the letter. Nodding to himself, he went to check the bounty board, sitting on the couch and scrolling through assignments.

"Hm...Venus...Mars...No, Mars is too hot this time of year...and there were Hobgoblins. I can't shield him that quickly..."

"...The Black Garden?" Ghost asked, hovering over Declan's shoulder and reading along with him. "It's very lovely, but you don't think it implies too much?" Having been there for the conversation with Mac and his Ghost, there was a lot more clarity for everyone. Well. Clarity, yes, but that didn't mean things were all that much improved.

"Mac said I...essentially...asked him on a date..." Declan murmured, glancing at the door, wondering idly when Aoba would be back.

"Well, Guardian Journey's advice isn't always sound," Ghost hedged, squinting.

"He knows more about this sort of thing than either of us. And if Aoba is leaving, I want to make the very best memories possible. But...maybe not the Garden just yet?"

"Venus has many impressive sites and is largely recovered. The moon should be suitably impressive as well since in his time space travel is still in it's infancy and the moon isn't colonized."

"The Reef?" Declan asked, hopeful. Ghost sighed, tilted, then gave a little nod. "I'll see to it you have lodging in the Reef. You'll have to plot a proper course for the rest. There's a few patrol quests in the safer areas on the Moon and Venus. I'll accept those missions for you. What ship shall I have checked?"

"Mmm...The Mariner. It's got the most room for long travel. Please make sure there's enough supplies. He'll need them."

"He'll expect you to eat as well, you know."

"I guess...have the replicator repaired."

"There's only one bunk, Declan."

"I'll sleep in the cockpit."

"...I highly doubt he'll approve," the Ghost mumbled to himself, drifting over to the main commlink and scanning in to start fulfilling things. Declan, for his own part, dragged his gear out and started cleaning everything. When Aoba finally returned, it would be to Declan drowsing on the couch, head hanging over the back, hands resting loosely on recently polished armor, a large gun in neatly arranged pieces on the coffee table, and Ghost humming idly to himself as he floated around doing nothing in particular aside from existing.

"Welcome back!" the little construct chirped, looking at Declan curiously. How blissful, to be so comfortable with another person's presence that he didn't jerk awake like he did in the field. Interesting.

Seeing Jolene that morning was, without a doubt, the most complicated appointment with a medical professional that Aoba had ever, ever had. Ren ended up doing a fair bit of talking for him, since he was the one who had witnessed part of Aoba’s ‘episode’. She listened, ran more scans and tests, adjusted his medication a bit more, and advised him in the direction of a psychologist for counseling and the refinement of a treatment plan. He felt more than a little numb when she released him, though at least medication had nothing to do with it. It was just…overwhelming.

And it wasn’t like he could tell her that he couldn’t exactly stick around long enough to see such treatment through. Declan and his Ghost believed him and were actively aiding him, sure, but how many other people could he tell about ‘portals only Chosen Ones like him could see’ without it sounding like some other symptom of his apparent mental illness?

God, he didn’t like the way that sounded. Headaches were one thing. Even Declan had been so easygoing and accepting of it, with all that talk about the beauty of the sum of his parts….

…not sure if I want to be called beautiful…

Wanting to just go along with Declan’s simpler interpretation of the matter probably wasn’t the smart response, but boy was it the more appealing one, if only because he managed to make it sound like a relative non-issue. Something in need of addressing, yes, but also somehow simple.

Now that his functions and memory had expanded, Ren agreed that he would record all future episodes of Aoba’s ‘personality changes’, both in terms of the brainwave scans and straight up audio/video. They would help Aoba himself better come to terms with this ‘other self’ of his as much as provide a resource for any professionals he sought help from—if he did at all.

He had to get home….

…But it wasn’t like stepping back inside Declan’s apartment felt like someplace alien. The door opening up at the scan of his hand, the colors adjusted partially to his own preference, his collection of gifts gleaming from the various surfaces he’d taken advantage of to display them….

Spotting Ghost, he even kind of wanted to give the construct’s shell a ruffling in return for the greeting. He was as tied to the Guardian as Ren was to Aoba, after all (even by Aoba’s limited understanding of what Ghosts and Guardians were truly bound by), but Aoba kept his raised hand to just a warm, if worn-out, wave in response.

“Thanks, Ghost,” he said, putting his bag down just inside the door. Ren hopped out of it as Aoba continued inwards, following the construct’s gaze towards the couch with his steps.

Geez. Asleep all night and asleep again already? Those two weeks out must have been rougher on him than he’d let on, huh? With a lot more on his mind now than awkward what-ifs, Aoba was able to fold his arms and lean on the couchback close to Declan’s shoulder, quietly studying the man. The sunlight coming in that giant wall-window really highlighted the way that Declan’s skin seemed to…shimmer, almost. He didn’t seem to have a speck of pigment anywhere on him, neither skin nor hair nor eyes, but instead of being colorless and dull he was, well, as weird as it was to say of another guy…unexpectedly beautiful. But it also kind of made Aoba want to ruffle him, too.

Now look who was staring.

With the closeness of the other body lingering and filling space, Declan's instincts fluttered. There was no danger, however, so instead of jumping up alert and ready to spring into action, pale eyes cracked open, sliding to the side to gaze sleepily at the other man.

"Hm?" he rumbled, full lips curving into one of those gentle, brief smiles. Dreaming of Aoba again, was he? With more clarity than usual, the vibrant colors...so...

And his eyes drifted closed again, chest rising and falling with a sigh as he shifted, turning his head to the side, hair sliding over his face and a silky veil.

Another good five minutes passed before a soft groan creaked up out of him, big hand stretching out to reach for something - he thought he was in his bed for a moment and wanted to drag a pillow closer - but when he found nothing, the Titan finally started to genuinely wake, mouth opening wide with a noisy yawn, flashing rows of perfect teeth, slightly larger than average canines, and a lavender interior that included his tongue.

"EEEuuuuggghhhh...ahh...hm? Aoba? What time is it? I'm sorry, I meant to wait up for you but I finished cleaning everything..." Without anything to distract him and not wanting to be gone when the other man came back, he'd just sat there and waited, like a dog.

"How did it go?" the large man asked, rubbing a fist against one eye.

And guess who barely moved for all of those five minutes, barely aware of the time passing. Aoba wound up lifting a hand to prop his cheek up with as he continued to lean there, smiling like a man with a private joke. At least for a little while, he was relatively unselfconscious. He gazed upon the hulk of the Titan not with embarrassment and awkward wonderings, but with a much simpler gratitude and innocent affection.

Something wasn’t right with this world, for such a kind and generous man to live so alone and have so few friends. Aoba was still waiting for evidence of any kind of angry streak, too. Even that man that he’d clouted in the bar, for Aoba’s sake, had been taken out with impassive calm. And then he’d gone and been given a Cosmopolitan of all things. Complimented his hair, saying little more than a few words at a time.

Now look at him. Look back at all the heartfelt, poetic things he’d ended up saying since then.

Aoba’s face fell only at the question, and he made a vague noise of discontent as he stood up and moved around the couch, dropping into the free space beside the other man now that he was awake. “I know it was good to go,” he began in answer, staring out the broad window ahead of them, “But I don’t know what good it’ll do. I don’t have the time to just pursue a specialized treatment plan, you know? Maybe when I get back to Midorijima, or even when I come back here, but right now? It’s too much to ask for.”

He spread his hands in a useless little gesture, giving Declan a sideways look. “But, on the positive side, I don’t have any painful headaches any more, and it’s not like I went completely Jekyll and Hyde on you guys, right? I was just…somebody different for a little while.”

"Then don't worry about it?" Declan replied with his usual steady acceptance. Pale eyes drifted, watching Aoba walk, and he left an arm slung across the back of the couch, even when the other man took a seat. It...would be too awkward to pull it away just then.

"It isn't hurting you or anyone else to be like this, so far. You can manage it well enough while you're here. No one will really judge you, least of all me."

Listening to the remark about the positive side the Titan's lips quirked. He understood that reference. Mac liked old Earth music, Declan liked old Earth literature. He read quite a bit in his downtime on patrols.

"I'm not even sure you were someone different, Aoba. Just a different part of yourself. Hm. Besides all that, now when you go home you can talk openly with your granny; be honest with one another and find concrete answers, since now you're not in the dark anymore. I think that's important."

And there he went again, supportive and unjudgmental. It made him much easier—and honestly, preferable—to listen to.

…compared to ‘Ren’? Pfft, obviously…

Oh, no, that was an unkind thought. Aoba took it back in a hurry. Ren was just worried about him and looking after him too, as he always had, but…yeah. With as many other things to do and focus on as he had, and given that he’d only lost, what, maybe fifteen minutes or something to his ‘other side’? And that Declan, Ren, and Ghost could all look out for him if it happened again…it was hard to get super worked up about it, even if he’d felt like he wanted to.

“I just hope that conversation isn’t as painful as I’m afraid it could be,” he said to Declan instead, barely conscious of the fact that the Guardian’s arm was stretched out behind him. It wasn’t a threatening presence, after all. “I know Granny must have had good reasons for it, but it’s still weird to think she wouldn’t have warned me about it, I guess.”

"She's an older lady, right? Maybe it was just far too much for her to handle and it was easier to put that part away than anything else. I know a lot of people would prefer to just....excise parts of their own personalities and memories. Honestly, aside from the side-effects that panned out to be more or less detrimental, it was a pretty tidy way of handling it. Maybe it was the only way she knew? Whatever the case, I don't...think it's that bad. You were more aggressive, but you weren't bad," Declan assured Aoba, nodding slightly. Ghost glanced at Ren, sharing some unspoken disagreement, but it Declan thought it was alright, Ghost wasn't going to protest. The man could take care of himself, at the end of the day.

"Warning you about it probably would have made the medication less effective. Sort of like trying different foods. Like if a person says they don't like some type of ingredient, but someone else cooks it specially without telling them what it is and they like it suddenly. But if they were told at the beginning what was in the food they wouldn't try it. If you'd been told about it, you'd think about it too much and probably make it happen more. Without knowing about it, you can just take the medicine, shut it off, and have done."

What Declan said made sense. There was no way for sure of knowing how true it was, how right he was or wasn’t, but it made plenty of sense enough that Aoba could just slowly nod and see…possibilities. A variety of possibilities as to why Granny might not have told him, and that he could think without finding himself preoccupied over his only remaining family member hiding such a bewildering truth from him.

What happened then was, instead of feeling worried or betrayed or resentful, Aoba was hit by a very strong wave of missing her. It wasn’t the first of its kind since he’d found himself good and lost in an unfamiliar time and place, but it was his first since coming to the City. It was different from the desperate drive of wanting to get home to the place he’d come from, of wanting to see her and his friends again. It was the pure heartache of being homesick, of wondering if she was okay, if she was worried about him, if Koujaku had stepped in and was keeping her company or anything like that….

Aoba’s shoulders slowly drooped, his expression visibly falling as his thoughts shifted down this sadder path, and not even those murmurs buried in the back of his thoughts could add in anything for him to hear. He missed her so much he even wanted to dodge her throwing chopsticks at him, or hear her berating him for leaving the door unlocked again.

“I miss her,” he murmured softly.

Pursing his lips, Declan's pale eyes searched Aoba's profile for a long time before he drew his arm back and turned, propping one long leg on the couch, hands resting in his lap.

"We were going to travel anyways; let's go. Let's make the arrangements and set out tomorrow for Venus so we can search the Ishtar library for any mention of these portals and anything pertaining to your situation. Let's get you home, Aoba. I...don't like seeing you sad." Nothing in the universe could make Declan lean towards selfishness, seeing Aoba crestfallen. Knowing the man had family, people he loved, somewhere else? It was too much for the Titan. He wanted the other man in his life, but not at the cost of his happiness. What would be the point? If Declan cared, he'd do the right thing. Simple as that.

And he cared too much.

"I mean it. Pack your things, I'll have Ghost make the necessary calls and get the writs of passage or anything else we might need and we'll go right away. If there's any answers to be had, any map, anything to point you in the right direction, it'll be there. And if we don't find the answers, I'll fly you anywhere you think a portal you want to take may be. I'll get you home, Aoba. Whatever it takes."

As soon as he’d spoken, but before Declan replied, Aoba almost regretted opening his mouth. It wasn’t exactly embarrassing but it was…awkward, broaching subjects like that. Ones that focused on him over other people. He needed to shrug it off or something, muster a smile, so Declan wouldn’t have to feel—

And then the Guardian moved, spoke, and although Aoba had had no reason at all to think he might be judged for his moment of weakness, something knotted up in his chest at it, at yet another show of unconditional support and unhesitating willingness to help. At the evidence that he had such a good friend in the man.

He wanted to thank him, but the words suddenly seemed weak. He’d used them so much already, but the scale of everything Declan was doing was just so vast. Maybe it was simple and easy for him, planning travel to other planets just because of the chance of an answer, but to Aoba it was a complete upheaval and reorganization of the Guardian’s life. And he’d never hesitated.

…oh go on already…

Aoba shifted forward, balancing his weight on the front edge of the couch as he maneuvered around the Titan’s bulk until he was sitting in such a spot that he could reach him better. He didn’t get on Declan’s leg or lap again, but he turned enough to lift his own weight on a knee and get his arms around the other’s neck. The Titan was just too big to hug any other easy way; Aoba even had to rest the side of his head against Declan’s own, feeling the press of that contact through his hair.

It was a mirror-moment to the way Desire had (unbeknownst to Aoba) embraced Declan before, but this time around it was earnest and unheated. A moment of vulnerability and gratitude, a different side of him just as in need of human contact.

He didn't know what was happening for a moment, tensing at the weight against him. Once he understood, however, he knew what to do in response.

Big arms moved easily around Aoba's smaller frame, tugging gently; he'd been in Declan's lap before so now shouldn't be much of an issue, right? So he pulled the man into the cradle of his legs and gripped gently but firmly, tree-limb arm flexing with impressive muscle under the tee he was wearing, the broad musculature of his chest twitching with the movement. One hand rubbed Aoba's back gently, the other patted, soft little paps in a calming rhythm close enough to a heartbeat. He could feel the heat of his own skin, but his own anxiety wasn't going to stop him from taking care of his friend.

"You'll get home, Aoba. I promise, one way or another," his deep voice rumbled, eyes staring across his room as he tried to think of other ways. Maybe the Vex gates? They traveled through time after all, and at least getting Aoba back to his own time would be a good start? Maybe...

Declan tugged, and suddenly the hug was a lot closer than Aoba intended. This was an embrace, he—oh boy he was on Declan’s lap.

But…it felt safe. Aoba’s own brief tensing soon dribbled away as if the strokes of Declan’s hand were rubbing it out of him. On one hand he did feel a little ashamed, like he needed to protest that he wasn’t a child, he didn’t need to be held so closely like he was about to burst into tears or anything like that—but instead he shifted his face down, hiding it inside his arms and against Declan’s shoulder, hiding at least his reddened face and its contortions of grief.

He didn’t cry. He wasn’t going to cry. Nobody had better accuse him of actually crying. But if his eyes burned and there was a warm trickle down the back of his throat, and if he was suddenly taking a lot more comfort and safety from what he’d meant to be a show of thankfulness and friendship(?), then, well…however embarrassing it was, heart pounding shamefully, at least he had no fear that Declan was going to judge him for it.

Declan promised. As if it was something he had any real control over, and yet…maybe Aoba couldn’t entirely say he believed him, but he wanted to. Declan said it and he sounded like he could be believed, so Aoba stopped his own thoughts right there and for at least a little while, let himself sit in the comfort that he could take. The promise that he would get home. A friend that would support him as far as he could.

One of his hands wound up on Declan’s nape again, but there was no scritching this time. It was just another mirroring, similarities between one aspect and another.

Quietly, through the muffle of arms and the strain of not-quite-tears: “I wish you could come with me.”

There was a long span of silence, of quiet contemplation, before Declan nodded, smooth cheek rubbing Aoba's shair slightly with the motion.

"I wish I could, too...I would try..." A sigh passed his lips, brows furrowing, expression strained, sorrowful.

"...But the Guardians are all that keep the light in this world. We're so few...abandoning my duty for what I want could cost lives. What I want...hn. What I want might come at too high a price. No matter my wishes, I won't sacrifice the needs and desires of others. I won't ask you to stay, and I wouldn't ask others to bear the weight of my absence. I...what I want doesn't matter," Declan finally relented, closing his eyes tightly, angry at the admission, pained by the fact that sacrifice was the Guardian purpose. He could give so much of himself to Aoba, if the man were there, but he couldn't follow him with a clear conscience.

"I can be content knowing where you go, you'll be happier."

The reply doesn’t surprise him. It fits Declan perfectly. It’s definitely part of why Aoba wasn’t asking, but merely stating. Confiding. He nods a little, there in the shelter of his arms, his hair brushing Declan’s cheek in turn. It’s an intense, present sensation, but painless.

He’d…be mad at himself if he drew Declan away from this important purpose of his, too. This is where the Guardian belongs, for the war that he’s waging and the people that he’s protecting, even if there’s a number of them that have no respect—no appreciation—for the wonderful person that the Titan is.

It’s that thought that gets Aoba to unbury himself a little, reddened but relatively dry around the eyes, and gaze averted lest he lose his nerve from something about their proximity. It diverts his thoughts from himself and back outwards, where he's more comfortable with them being. Declan’s face is still beside his own, rather than in front of, saving their voices from having to travel far to reach the other’s ears.

“While I’m gone,” he begins, words quietly keeping the hope that he can come back someday, “Don’t you dare listen to anyone that tries to put you down. You’re so…so much better than anyone who insults you could ever be. You prove it in everything you do and say, so…if you can’t believe it of yourself, believe it because you heard it from me, okay? You’re not ‘Decker’, you’re Declan, and there’s so much Light in you…you’re absolutely blinding.”

All that lavender again, the behemoth hunching, making himself smaller with Aoba's words, embarrassed and pleased. A hand raised, rubbing at his eyes, dry but stinging. It hurts, suddenly, the reality that he'd finally found someone that might care if he never came home, only to have them taken from his life too soon. Of course, Aoba wasn't dying, but if he never came back, wasn't it the same?

"I'm not Decker," he agreed quietly, sniffling softly, head still down. It lowered even more, resting his forehead on Aoba's shoulder. Blinding? Maybe, with all the white of him, but he didn't believe for a minute that his personality was in any way that impressive. Even still, it mattered that Aoba thought so.

"Can you stay long enough to see the moon and stars?"

Declan could think whatever he wanted; aloud, he agreed with Aoba, and that was what the man wanted to hear. Feeling the Guardian’s brow on his shoulder continued to shift his thoughts away from himself and to the other, and comforting him sat better with Aoba than being the one comforted did. Now his fingers moved, but it was comforting strokes, smoothing colorless strands of hair with his fingers.

At least he had a family to go back to, he thought, further adjusting the train of his thoughts. He had his Granny, and he had his friends. He’d even be glad to see Yoshie again! But Declan…even if he seemed to have people he got on with, like Mac, and people who liked him, like the Speaker, the bartender, Tess, and half a dozen others…well, he’d said it himself. He had no one to come home to.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he answered softly, with just a brief little wondering if that figure of speech still meant anything when the moon and stars were at stake. He didn’t dwell on it, though. He had to get home, yes, but there were still things he wanted to see with Declan before he went.

"I'm really glad you came here," Declan murmured after a time, letting himself, against his better judgment, be soothed by the touches. Had anyone ever stroked his hair? Part of him deeply wished he knew of his life before everything. Maybe he was happier then? Maybe people had cared for him and he wasn't alone. Now he was relying on Aoba, and the man didn't need that.

Still, he wanted to be selfish for just a moment, and he left his head there for a time. Eventually he had to sit up properly, his usually bright eyes glowing a little duller for the weight of his emotions.

"I shouldn't...have touched you without your permission. I'm sorry. You just..." He stopped himself, unwilling to say what was a lie to him, even if it was really more of a half-truth. He corrected, forcing himself to honesty despite the fear of it.

"...I...I just wanted to hold onto you, for a minute. Knowing you'll be gone...I don't like it. I don't want to be selfish...but I wanted to hug you. I needed a hug," the final confession shaming him. Hundreds of pounds of pure muscle, the ability to literally punch a head clean off a pair of shoulders, the responsibility to protect innumerable lives...and he "needed a hug". Pathetic.

Aoba even managed to forget, in a way, that he was sitting on Declan’s lap of all places. It was just another part of what was proving to be a big, comfortable package. The Guardian seemed in no hurry to move and Aoba was not inclined to rush him. It was…nice, to just turn off his thoughts and share this kindness with the big man.

What Declan ended up saying, when he finally shifted and spoke again, only reinforced that feeling. It brought a smile back to Aoba’s face, almost a laugh, but most definitely not one made at Declan’s expense.

“I touched you first,” Aoba pointed out, cheeks a colored by it, but the embarrassment factor was significantly lessened when he was saying it to reassure his friend. He couldn’t quite maintain eye contact for what he was about to add, granted, but the words themselves weren’t particularly hard to find. “…You can have all the hugs you want between now and me having to go. As long as it’s…just us around, I mean.”

It would be way too embarrassing if Declan suddenly hugged him in public! But in private (which also meant in front of Ren or Ghost, since their presences were mostly constant) Aoba imagined it would be okay.

“I…I might need more too, you know. So it’s a fair exchange.”

There the two sat, awkward but committed to their choices. Declan waited, listened, breathed. Finally he lifted his arms again, squeezing Aoba once more before leaning back with a long sigh, lips curved in a gentle, unsure smile. He would acceot this arrangement.

"I picked out some places. And there's a spot I want to check if we can't find anything in the library. A lot...well, most of it is at least a little dangerous, but there's no place I can't take you. But we'll go to the Moon first, since it's on the way out. Then Venus. After that the Reef. If we don't find anything at the library and my contact - Xur - doesn't have any information at the Reef, I'm going to speak with the Queen and see if she and her brother can help. I think...if we can't get you close enough with your way...we can use the gate in the Black Garden or Vault of Glass to get you home."

Pulling away from the close embrace didn’t feel like retreating, and that was nice. Aoba lowered his own arms, hands loosely in his lap, and still half-forgetting that he was in Declan’s. A rough awareness that he should get up was based only on the need to pack and prepare for the traveling they were going to do, though he didn’t imagine that taking very long. Well, on his end, anyway. Maybe they could go out for lunch, or dinner. Not anything fancy. Drinks and sandwiches at that bar, maybe. Although, kindly barkeep or not, the surrounding patrons might sour the experience, even if a weird part of Aoba wanted to-

…rub their faces in it.

Except, hold on. Something in what Declan said was enough to have Aoba giving himself a little shake out of his thoughts.

“Wait, sorry, what? Queen?” For what he’d learned of Declan’s universe so far, Aoba didn’t think he’d heard much about a queen yet. “You know a Queen? We’re getting royalty involved?”

‘If’, Aoba, Declan had said ‘if’, but that didn’t stop the man from starting to get a little worked up over the idea of someone with such an important-sounding title getting involved in his stupid little business! Nevermind that world-hopping time-spanning portals was significantly something more than stupid little business, but still!

"Uh...ah. yes. Sorry. There's...The Awoken, the offshoot race of humans that I'm genetically part of? They have their own society in The Reef. There's the royal family, Mara Sov and Uldren Sov. Mara...she's a good woman and owes me a favor or two and Uldren..." Declan trailed off, inhaling deeply and puffing a long-suffering sigh.

"...He's the person Mac is so obsessed with." Which made his infatuation all the more complicated. It was a well-known fact that Uldren Sov despised Guardians, in direct opposition of Mara's fascination and respect for them. Couple that with the fact that Mac was precisely the sort of person on the whole that Uldren disliked? It was inevitably never going to happen, and Declan wished his friend - and only technical family - could release himself from being emotionally shackled to that spot, but there was nothing to do about it.

"If the library and Xur don't have anything, Mara knows a lot about the Vex gates. They're time gates. If nothing else, I can get you back to your time. It's the least I can do," the Titan mused, glancing at Aoba's face before looking away, unwilling to follow the lead of his thoughts. He could just...quietly imagine touching cheek to cheek. Nuzzling, it was called? He had an urge to nuzzle against the other man and that was entirely out of line.

"You should pack. I'm going to go to the quartermasters and get weapons and gear. I'll get light weapons for you. You shouldn't have to use them, but if you do, they'll be easy for you. I have...a large collection." That he did. Embarrassingly so. Much like he collected ships, he collected weapons. Unlike Mac who picked things he liked and just doggedly upgraded them, Declan liked a weapon for every eventuality. He had a few with auto-targeting that would be perfect for someone that didn't use guns at all. And...

"Bring your dagger and anything else you want to decorate the ship. We're going to be there for a while. But...I need to know some preferences. Since there's a lot to take gear wise..."

And then he was all professional business, counting off kit details. There were primary, special, and heavy weapon loadouts. Primary could be auto rifles, pulse rifles that fired rapid bursts of a few rounds at a time, scout rifles that could be used for rapid fire or burst fire but were better ranged than either former, and hand cannons. Declan was notably favored towards hand cannons, his tone different when he said it, though he mentioned it probably wasn't best for Aoba with how heavy kick-back could be.

Special weapons were sniper rifles, fusion rifles that fired different types of concentrated energies, shotguns, and side arms. He mentioned he wanted to give a specific sidearm to Aoba, but it was ultimately up to what the man wanted.

Heavy weapons were more complicated in variance. Machine guns with barrel clips for ammunition, unloading hundreds of rounds, rocket launchers with all kinds of specifications, and most interesting of all, swords. He explained that swords were definitely a thing, but best left to Guardians, since they were infused with different energy wielded by guardians. Mac, he remarked, fancied himself a space-age knight, and dressed like a knight templar in the field, carried a sword, and used the equivalent of magic. Scientifically proven magic, but magic nonetheless. Every Guardian was unique, in the end, despite being products made for a specific purpose.

It was bewildering enough to hear that yes, there was a Queen, and she owed Declan a favor. Just. What. And Declan’s self-esteem was still as rocky as it was? Mac being obsessed with the prince(?) barely fit in as an afterthought.

Then Declan started going on about weapons. Aoba wouldn’t have been able to say just where exactly Declan fell on a scale of ‘thorough’ to ‘passionate’ about the subject, given how he was able to launch into such a vast description of items as he was, but the one thing he could say for sure was that he himself was totally lost.

“I-I’ve never even held a gun, much less fired one!” he exclaimed at the end, waving his hands in a ‘wait, wait’ gesture. He was still in Declan’s lap, too, being too stunned by the monologue to move in the meanwhile. “I’d probably shoot myself in the foot if I tried—or worse, yours!”

"I can be fixed with little more than a thought, and my natural healing is...extremely greater than human norm," Declan explained in regards to being shot. the rest, however?

"You'll learn on the go. I'll teach you. Ideally you'll never have to fire a round outside of a learning setting anyways, if I'm doing my job protecting you right. But in the eventuality something happens, I want you as safe as possible. That means the best possible gear and load-out. I can pick the weapons for you if you're worried about what to take...but...I really have to insist, Aoba. Even the safe places are still dangerous." And the last thing they needed was for Declan to be distracted worrying about every nick and scratch the other man might end up with. He was already going to be on high alert just because that's how he was.

Talk about not the response you want to hear: I’ll heal fast so it’s okay? The look on Aoba’s face is one stricken by the reply, especially so with the insistence that Aoba be armed anyway.

“Arming me with a weapon I don’t know how to use isn’t going to keep me safe,” he protested, but admittedly weakly, given that Declan insisted. If that was the stance he was taking, Aoba did not presume he might be able to sway him anyway. Still, people had to be trained for months or even years to be proficient at something like that, didn’t they? “If you’re insisting, I can’t exactly tell you 'no', but it sounds like a bad idea to me….”

With that said, Aoba finally saw about getting up from Declan’s surprisingly-comfortable lap, trying not to lean on the man too much but at the same time needing to use his shoulder as a brace as he shuffled himself up and got his feet back on the floor. Standing, and sighing, he looked down at Declan with reluctance, but not mistrust.

“I don’t know anything about any of the things you just described to me. I’ll get started packing my stuff, but you’ll have to pick the…'loadout' for me.”

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