orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

Aoba could have responded that he’d rarely been in cars, much less ones going up anything resembling a hill, but all he did was nod and sink his fingers into Ren’s fur a little more. Though his little companion had been of even fewer words than himself since yesterday, the comfort he could take from holding him was not refused.

And then…upwards.

It was so unlike the way that space travel was always portrayed in movies that he’d seen that it almost didn’t feel real. A few shakes. Some quiet ‘tinks’ that didn’t even last long enough for him to think the ship had lost some important piece of itself. No nausea, no vertigo. The windows might have been nothing more than highly advanced television screens, or the whole thing might not have been anything other than a simulation in Rhyme. Clouds gave way to stars on a black field, nothing to give him any point of reference or sense of scale.

Not until Declan turned the ship around, that is.

Aoba had never imagined the Earth could look so small. Simple understanding told him that it wasn’t really, and he only had to puzzle at the strange sphere nestled up against it for a brief while to realize that it was the broken shape of the Traveler. So the City was right there. The place that dwarfed the whole of Midorijima, the singular settlement that was all that remained of Earth’s civilian populace, reduced to nothing at all.

He exhaled quietly, heart suddenly heavy.

Declan watched Aoba from the edge of his vision, most of attention between that and the readouts. He knew, to some degree, what Aoba was feeling. Everyone felt it, looking back on Earth, even the Guardians technically young to the strife. Inhaling deeply, he flipped a few controls over and turned slightly in his seat.

"Earth is fertile ground, and the Traveler is a seed of hope. From that place where it planted itself, someday the whole of civilization will blossom again. Don't look and see the tragedy, Aoba. Look at what we protect and let yourself feel light-hearted. You trust me, don't you?" he asked, tilting his head and pointing out the window at Earth.

"I will protect this for you. Forever. I will protect the memories of the past and one day, your home will be full and rich again. I promise."

And Aoba thought: what did he really want to come back for?

He observed the Earth, the blue and green whole of it, and how the Traveler itself had gone from a tiny moon directly overhead of the city to a tiny neighbor clinging to the planet's atmosphere. Declan spoke of hope, and it wasn't that Aoba disbelieved him, exactly, but suddenly he called himself into question.

He thought of his own journey, the passage of portals. If Declan found him an expedited way home, then to Aoba it was nothing more than a long walk to complete the circuit from the past Midorijima to the future City. Were his thoughts too trivial? Was he just... infatuated? Was coming back to this war-torn version of the Earth even worth it?

Did he want to come back here only to be protected?

Aoba rubbed his fingers together quietly, very conscious of the second-skin fit of the gloves, of the Hunter's gear shaped to his body. And he thought about the absurdity of his life back home, working as a desk clerk in a junk shop on an island he could never leave.

"You have so many more important things to do," he found himself saying, apologetic in tone. The scale of everything Declan had done, was doing for him, seemed so much vaster now. "... Thank you for the time you've spent on me."

"I...think my time spent on you has been one of the most important things in my life," Declan murmured, staring out the window at the shrinking Earth, rubbing his own fingers together, unconscious of the gesture. He wanted to make a fist, but kept easing himself out of it, refusing to let tension breed silence.

"I've certainly never been happier."

This guy….

His chest tightened and thoughts stirred. …if you would just say something… they went, but so what if he did? After whatever had exactly transpired the night before, there was just—too much of an overtone. Too much risk of things only being taken a certain way. And the thought of broaching the conversation to clarify everything? Made Aoba squirm uncomfortably.

If Declan said he was happy, Aoba believed him, but it only gave him more to question. Declan couldn’t be wrong, but Aoba didn’t feel worth it. What had he even done?

Especially on the scale of everything that had happened to the world, what had he even done?

“I’m glad,” he said again, trying not to lapse into silence of his own. “Someone like you deserves all the happiness he can get.” And then he suddenly wondered, looking over, even glancing at Ghost for a few moments as well.

Drawing upon Declan’s certainty for the future, rather than his own doubts, he asked, “When you’ve driven back the Darkness…and the world gets to go back to the way it was…what happens to the Guardians?”

"Is that so?" Declan replied, barely above a whisper as he glance Aoba's way. If he deserved all the happiness he could get...why didn't more come to him. Why were things so complicated? Mysteries of the universe, he supposed, looking back out the window and reaching over to tap a few things, gradually turning the ship's trajectory towards Venus and adjusting the speed. Aoba didn't want to jump immediately, so they would just travel at a good clip.

The question gave him pause, chest rising and falling with a sigh as he reached to unbuckle himself, standing to stretch.

"No one knows," Ghost answered after a moment, blue eye flicking up and down, a mixture of apology and trepidation. "We Ghosts...we're very attached to our Guardians. In more ways than the literal. We talk among ourselves, ask whatever questions we can, debate. There's no answer though. Not until we revive the Traveler and can ask. But...as a benevolent force, we can at least safely assume nothing untoward."

A less reassuring answer than Aoba had hoped for, to be certain, and one that left him frowning.

“So, all the fighting, all the…dying,” he forced, letting Ren down from his lap and slowly imitating the other man in undoing his own seat clasps as he spoke. “You don’t even know if Guardians will be allowed to enjoy the world they fought so hard for?”

Brought back from the dead just to fight, and sent back to the dust afterwards? That was what Aoba imagined in his place of doubt. If the Guardians could look forward to peaceful lives for themselves as well, at least they would have just rewards at the end of everything, but if not? That seemed needlessly cruel! Sure, Ghost not knowing meant they didn’t know, but that was a pretty massive thing to be ignorant about.

For Declan be sure of the world’s future, but not his own….

"No one knows what the future brings for them," Declan replied, cutting off Ghost's prepared protest. Raising an arm to grip one of the metal frames in the ship, the Titan relaxed despite the confines.

"The Traveler died before it could tell anyone anything, but it did what it did out of love and desperation to protect humanity. We may come from the deceased, but we're no less human. We have faith that we matter as well. But...Isn't it too sad to question, Aoba?" he asked, swinging slightly on the spot before tilting his head and looking away slightly.

"Ghost and I...our parent died giving birth to us. That's what it is, in the end. Sacrificed everything to make sure we entered the world. We have to believe we're loved, too. When it all ends, we'll find out. I imagine a good many Guardians will want to rest."

"Many of us have agreed to decommission ourselves if our Guardians wish it. Then they will only have one life left, and no returning." Ghost explained, Declan reaching out and gently bumping him with a closed fist. "I will support whatever Declan wants."

"I want to go on living. As long as I have something to live for." The Titan gazed at Aoba, watching him for a moment before sniffing softly and reaching over to tap a button on the wall.

Not even that voice in the back of his thoughts had any kind of response for the way Declan’s gaze seemed to rest on him an extra moment or two. Aoba swallowed, hard, wondering if it was appropriate to feel like all the responsibility was being levied onto him. Then, on reflection of Desire’s muddled actions before, he could only assume that was exactly what was being done.

But thinking that had to mean admitting he knew…at least something of what Declan thought of him. Felt for him? Something of refusing Desire’s unsubtle advances, but not completely rejecting—

Aoba looked down at his empty hands. At clothes that fit him like they’d been made for him, but that he didn’t fit at all.

“…There’s always something worth living for,” he said softly. “That’s why it’s so sad to think you might not get that kind of chance. But it’s worse to not question it. That would mean being resigned to whatever comes your way, and that’s not right.”

Aoba’s thoughts were shifting, a new point of reference found. The world’s future, even his own future—these things seemed less important than being sure Declan had one. But if a future for Declan meant the world being freed, being restored, and maybe even meant Aoba had a place in it…hm.

Ren definitely would have accused him of spiraling into overthinking again, if the little Allmate hadn't been fairly preoccupied by a number of things, himself.

"Aoba. I've had that chance since you came into my life and tolerated the troublesome thing that I am. You made my reason for fighting more personal. You also gave me a reason to fight hard and come home. I think I'm living my life very well right now. If I'm resigned, it's only because things haven't been dismal since I met you," the Titan expressed with one of those vague smiles.

"Stop talking about things that upset you," he finally sighed, flipping a switch and arching a brow as the gravity died. "You don't need to burden yourself."

Now wait a minute, just the other day Declan had specifically told him not to keep things to himself, and now—

Except turning to look at the Guardian, to start feeling a different sort of puzzled, was motion. A gentle motion, but motion nevertheless, and even if Aoba managed to fail to notice the moment when a force he’d experienced all his life was suddenly gone, he absolutely noticed when what should have been just a natural press of weight against his seat had nothing at all to counteract it.

It was best compared to a wobble, but never in his life had Aoba ever wobbled upwards before. His heavy thoughts were quickly replaced by a sound of surprise as he grabbed the arms of his chair in reflex.

Cheeky little maneuver there, Declan.

Don't keep anything, but don't dwell. No point deliberately drowning when a hand was being held out. So Declan did the only thing he could and distracted his friend, almost smirking as he watched Aoba start canting to one side before his boots scraped off the metal flooring and he started rising out of his seat.

Pushing off the frame he'd been holding specifically to keep himself oriented, the massive bulk of the Titan moved without any trouble, floating forward until he had a grip with one hand on the back of Aoba's seat, the other held out for the man.

"Come on. Stop thinking about everything awful you can dredge up, just for a while. I wanted you to enjoy your time out here. Create good memories. How many people do you know that have been in space, experienced zero gravity? Get up."

It was the lack of warning that startled him more than anything. Staying there wasn’t hard once he’d pulled himself down into his seat, but then Aoba was just hyper aware of—nothing. He couldn’t have said he’d been particularly aware of gravity at any point in his life, but now that it was gone, he noticed! Nothing pulling his feet to the floor, nothing pulling his butt back to the chair, hell, even his stomach felt like it was going to float. If he tried to push his feet to the floor it was like the floor pushed back, and if he let go with his arms at all then he was just going to go flying!

But when Declan’s hand reached out, Aoba didn’t hesitate. He trusted the Guardian far more than his own disobedient body right now and clapped one of his hands to Declan’s nothing short of immediately, making a thin, wheezy kind of sound through his teeth. At least if his palms were suddenly sweating, no one would be able to tell through his gloves!

“Aoba. Declan.” Ren was trying, and simultaneously failing, not to sound perturbed despite maintaining his level tone. The little Allmate was doing a remarkable imitation of a Zero-G tumbleweed as he drifted towards the ceiling, little feet paddling uselessly. “Ghost, please help me.”

Declan's smile was immediate, the Guardian lighting up; he loved space, loved the freedom of his explorations. Now he was sharing something he loved that wasn't violent, and Aoba took his hand and--

He burst into a very sudden, very real, short, loud laugh deep from his chest as he looked up and saw Ren. He immediately tried to stifle himself, raising his free hand and waving quickly, mumbling an apology before choking on another. Ghost rolled his eye and drifted over, gently bumping Ren this way and that until he was able to tuck into a shelf area.

Another apology tumbling out, Declan reached out and took Aoba's other hand, holding both as they floated in the open space behind the seats, bright eyes glittering with his amusement and pleasure. He was determined not to let anything spoil the few moments he could give.

Declan laughed and Aoba’s heart took a lurch, his eyes jumping from his poor Allmate to the Guardian’s face—and as embarrassing as it was, he was so immediately smitten that he both forgave the laughter at Ren’s expense, and couldn’t find anything in him to protest when Declan reached in and took his other hand, pulling him out of his seat as easily as the weightless entity he now was.

But Ren was safe soon enough, digging his little claws into the metal grating of a shelf and heaving a little dog-sigh with ears skewed and pink tongue sticking out, leaving Aoba free to be bewildered by the sensations of zero gravity. His cloak, the gear straps on his vest and belt, even his hair were suddenly suspended in the air and reacting to every little motion of his body as if he were floating underwater, minus the feel of any water itself actually acting against his body. It wasn’t frightening, he realized, but it was bizarre.

Declan’s face, though. The way it came alive when he laughed, when his eyes sparkled with good humor that was even brighter than their naturally otherworldy glow. An image flicked across his thoughts, one he wasn’t even rightly sure he could blame on Desire, of how easy it might be to just give his arms a tug, pull himself in, tilt his head and—

He did nothing of the sort and stared down towards his feet instead. Yep. Sure were nowhere near the floor. Aoba was suddenly very glad for the shell of the ship all around them.

“Okay. Okay, um. Wow.” Words were useless for the moment, but he was adjusting, his heart only pounding because of Declan’s laugh and smile.

Edited 2018-10-27 13:33 (UTC)

The Titan had fewer compunctions about his contact with Aoba, if only because he wasn't thinking impure thoughts when he initiated it. What followed sometimes skewed that way, but he didn't blame their physical closeness, just his own failings. For the moment, however, it was just an act of joy. He used his longer leg reach to tap a boot occasionally on a seat or railing, turning their bodies slowly sometimes horizontal, sometimes vertical, sometimes making the irregular rotation of natural orbit.

"This is the most free I ever feel," Declan expressed, gently squeezing Aoba's hands. "Turning off gravity over Venus and looking down on the jungles is beautiful, but floating in the Reef is magical. I figured it was better to do in the ship, since your hair can be free, but if you feel like braving it outside, we can do it at the Reef. It's completely safe to be outside there."

Aoba’s thoughts weren’t impure, just—more intimately romantic than he was comfortable with them being. Desire managed to come across as prioritizing the physical, but that was why he was the aspect that Reason had to impress realistic boundaries upon. But the impulse was momentary, rather than all-consuming, especially when Declan started messing with Aoba’s perspective of what was up or down.

Without gravity to pull him one singular way, to tell his brain which direction the ground was in, Aoba couldn’t have said if it was really them rotating or if the ship had magically begun to spin around them. Without vertigo or any sense of danger pressing at him, adjusting finally turned towards relaxing. The gentle turns made everything feel like slow motion, like it didn’t matter how quickly the field of stars outside the windows was changing, because everything inside the ship was just hung on a handful of moments.

“My hair?” he repeated, the seeming absurdity bringing a splutter of amusement from his lips. Naturally, a smile had to follow. As much as he was not-unused to his hair drawing attention for various reasons, Declan’s was refreshingly unobtrusive. “I feel like it must look pretty ridiculous right now.”

"It feels neat though, doesn't it? When your hair floats like you're in water but you're dry as ever and can breathe? Mac told me about mermaids. I bed this is what mermaids are like," he mused, letting go of one hands and turning Aoba upside down while keeping himself right side up.

"I think it's beautiful," he shrugged, not the least embarrassed to say so. "The color is lovely enough but...it's more how it's cut and how fluffy it is. Makes me think of paintings I saw on Mars in one of the hotels. There were these big birds. Pheasants or peacocks--"

"Phoenixes," Ghost corrected, Declan nodding.

"Chinese phoenixes, right. They weren't like big firebirds or anything, and usually in muted colors. Big sleek brown ones with long green and red feathers, or fluffy white ones. You remind me of those paintings."

Edited 2018-10-27 15:52 (UTC)

Between being turned upside-down, regarding Declan from that even level of their faces despite uneven bodies, plus looking to the side and seeing Ren from all the wrong angle, Aoba was truly laughing now. Soft, gentle sounds they were, and a freed hand let him push his hair back out of his face when it all tried to drift in the way as he spun.

He decided not to dwell on the absurdity of being compared to a phoenix, mythical sign of good fortune that it was, and instead went with, “Aah, I know those. The Japanese version is similar. It’s not a firebird at all.

“I have to cut it myself—my hair, I mean. One of my friends is a hairdresser and he critiques it sometimes, so next time he tries that I’ll just have to tell him it’s a ‘phoenix cut’!”

~~Sorry, Aoba, it’s still a fluffy mullet.~~

"Ah, hm? I think it's just fine," Declan mused with a small shrug, turning himself around and gently letting go of Aoba's hand, now that he had a little more familiarity with the sensation and could tap and move about. For himself he laid out on his back in the air, totally relaxed.

"Phoenix cut sounds very impressive though," he chuckled, still at ease since the first laugh cut through the usual red tape of emotional closure.

"Mac says my hair is stupid. He doesn't pull any punches," the Titan's eyes rolled, a hand reaching up and playing with the perfectly straight cut ends. "Says it's very 1990's geek-not-chic and I should have more respect for myself. I just thought it was very utilitarian. Long enough that I could do something with it if I felt inclined, short enough not to be a bother. You've seen his hair. He looks like a turkey." He paused, lips pursing and eyes drifting to the side as he cleared his throat.

"That was unkind of me. He's very proud of his hair."

Aoba still had one brief little ‘uh oh’ flail when his hand was released, like a child being let go of in the swimming pool to support themselves for the first time, but he recovered soon enough. He even figured out how to how to hook his foot under one of the rails that had served as a handhold for Declan at the start, though it took a false start or two before he was ‘hanging’ as comfortably as a possum.

He listened, prepared to defend Declan’s own haircut—and then instead was completely blindsided by his comparison for Mac’s. Now it was Aoba’s turn for a deep, genuine laugh of surprise.

“I would have said ‘cockatoo’,” he answered, tone kindly after he’d settled from his laughter. He wasn’t really of a mood to insult Mac at all, only to reassure Declan with a silly comparison of his own. He moved on from it quickly enough with a, “Your hair is fine. It suits you, I think. You’re kind of shy in a way, so it hides you a little, but whenever both your eyes show you look intense in a cool way.”

"Ah, cockatoo. I don't know cockatoo," Declan considered, glancing at ghost, who holographically displayed a few photos of cockatoos, prompting a quick nod of agreement from the Titan.

"Yes! Yes, definitely," he chuckled warmly, amused by the correlation. At the follow up, his cheeks colored faintly, lips quirking at one corner with a pleased, flattered expression. Intense in a cool way, he'd said. That...was cool. He was cool? And intense, but not in a negative term. Shy he could have done without, but he wouldn't protest the truth. He was absolutely horrible at socializing. He'd never really felt all that inclined to talk to someone so much. While he couldn't pin a singular thing that made Aoba different, he was.

Maybe it was as simple as Aoba wanting to talk to him, too.

"Do you think I should change it?" he asked, reaching up and flicking floating sheets of his hair idly. "It's been like this since I first rose so...what...?"

"Four years, one month, eighteen days," Ghost intoned, Declan nodding slowly.

Well that gave Aoba a jolt. Not to any such extent as interpreting that as Declan’s age, no, not when he was obviously an adult man with adult cognizance and capability, who had lived at least some degree of an ordinary human life before he’d been resurrected…but in the sense that given how he spoke of the war, and how many accolades (useless or not) he’d accrued on those charts, Aoba had managed to come around to thinking that Declan’s fight with the Darkness had been going on for decades.

His thoughts fell upon something half a weird coincidence and half an absurd thought, which made it to his lips in the process of his thoughts restarting.

“Geez…if my first portal had dumped me here instead of Steelport, I could have shown up on your rebirthday instead,” he spluttered a little, rubbing the back of his neck as he did his best not to let his thoughts spiral off onto any more upsetting thoughts regarding the Guardian’s short span of…second life.

“I don’t think you have to change anything you don’t want to,” he answered instead, unhooking his feet and starting a slow spin back to the ‘correct’ orientation compared to the ship. “I’ve kept my hair like this for all twenty-three of my years. Maybe some of it is necessity, but this just works for me, too. If yours works for you, you don’t have to listen to anyone saying you should change it.”

Even if he would look all the more impressive if his eyes showed all the time.

"I think my life would have been truly blessed if you'd been here in the beginning. But I may not have been the person I am now, that you became friends with, so I'll assume the way things happened were for the best," Declan replied easily, smiling with a small shrug.

"Hm...but do you think there's something that might suit me more?" he asked, arching a brow and turning himself so he looked like he was sitting on an invisible chair, hands on his knees.

"I'm not partial to this haircut versus another. It just seemed to work. Do you think there's a better fit for my face?"

The fact that Declan didn’t quite catch what Aoba meant made him wonder another thing, which in turn became an assumption: Guardians probably didn’t celebrate birthdays, or rebirthdays, the way ordinary people did. So showing up that one month and eighteen days ago—basically the same time Aoba hit his first portal, if the timelines were perfectly parallel—wouldn’t have been anything of peculiar timing.

Which then made him think, what, did he really want to construe himself as some kind of gift? Except Declan had said it first and more than a few times already, just in different words….

But wait, hold on. What was he—was he really? Yes he was. He was floating in zero G like he was on a chair. Like he was a client lined up for Koujaku’s roaming haircutting services. So should Aoba take on the role of stylist?

Oh why the hell not. Although Aoba had to chuff a laugh again for the absurdity of it all, it was comfortable again, and he pulled his way closer with the various handrails until he found another place to hook a leg and hover close enough, himself.

“Well I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask, but since you are asking me, I’d say….” He carefully brought a hand up, catching that main fall of Declan’s bangs between second and third finger to delicately lift it aside. “Well, you could keep the same style but just trim it back more, although you’d have to maintain it more often if you did. And if you wanted to be really drastic, you could probably get away with-”

Aoba finger-combed, then. Still very carefully, as used to the sensitivity of his own hair as he was, but he brushed back all of Declan’s hair from his face to reveal it in full. Glowing eyes, alabaster skin…and had Aoba really ever taken note of the way it seemed to shimmer, before? It was opalescent but still alive, still warm skin.

“You have really striking features, you know?” Aoba managed to say without any inwards squirming, just giving an honest opinion as had been asked for. “Ghost said you’re—” Wait. Abort. Restart. “I mean, have you ever seen pictures of any of those really old marble statues? Greek or Roman or something like that? You look like you could be one, just up and living.”

Was that a weird comparison? It was probably a weird comparison. But Ghost had pretty strongly implied he was originally Roman, Aoba thought, and the man just looked…statuesque. He definitely didn’t need to hide behind his hair, if that’s what he was doing.

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