orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

"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.

Ghost's eye flicked over, watching but not shouting for Aoba or anything. If the truth spilled it spilled. No Guardian had ever remembered anything before, he didn't imagine his would be the one to break the mold.

For Declan's part, he found himself relaxing under Aoba's hands, the fingers through his hair working like they traditionally would on a person, soothing, relaxing. Bright eyes drifted half-closed as his scalp prickled with comfortable sensations. It ddin't occur to him that he'd never been touched so familiarly; military barbers weren't exactly so free with their contact.

"I've seen statues in museums and old parks," he mused, nodding slightly, though careful not to dislodge his head from Aoba's grasp. "And some of my books...You think I look like that?" he remarked, humming a soft sound of thought.

"They have really short-cropped hair or really long hair usually, that I've seen. But my hair isn't curly...should I cut it and style it up some? You just want me to show my face, right? So anything works?" Because making life decisions centered around Aoba was easy.

“I think something that shows off more of your face and eyes would be very flattering for you,” Aoba replied, trying to be neutral about it. If Declan wanted to change up his style that was his call to make. Aoba didn’t want him to feel pressured by what he thought.

Opinion offered, he set about combing Declan’s hair back into place for him before drifting back, reclining in the lack of gravity. Man, it would probably be really easy to fall asleep like this, huh? As long as you didn’t drift into anything painful. No pressure points, no struggling to get your pillow fluffed just right….

“But that’s just my opinion.”

Declan had definitely slept in zero G more than once, and would happily share the experience with Aoba. Eventually. Maybe. He had the strappy sleeping bag hammock thing for the task. But at the moment he was internally pouting over there not being fingers in his hair anymore.

"We'll see. Like I said, I'm not partial to this over anything else. It just...seemed the right thing to do, so I did it," he said, leaving his sitting position in favor of just a relaxed, idle drift, considering things.

"I didn't show you the rest of the ship, but there's a shower just like back at my place, a small table and two chairs bolted back there by the freezer and induction cooktop. The shower is adjacent to the bunk in the room back there just left of the engine duct. It's small, but there's everything you need to get by for a long trip. If you want to rest or shower, help yourself to everything."

“But the shower should only be used while the ship is landed somewhere,” Aoba finished with a nod, remembering that particular instruction as encouragement to take his shower this morning. “Got it.”

Ren was staring at him from his safe little shelf perch. Aoba noticed this and chuckled, holding out his hands. “Come on, Ren. Try it!”

Pointed little ears skewed in different directions. “Hmm. If nothing else I would be remiss in not figuring out how to move properly in a zero-gravity environment….”

“Aa. Too bad your Rhyme form isn’t your real one. It’d come in a lot of handy right now, wouldn’t it?”

“This is true, but in the absence of such a thing, I should at least experiment,” Ren ultimately agreed, picking himself up and hunching at the front of the shelf with a very lifelike waggle of his back end as he gathered for a jump.

He did very well with his trajectory. And then when he collided with Aoba’s arms, they both went gently tumbling.

Declan reached out with one arm, catching Aoba and Ren and looping in, tucking them both briefly against his armored chest before righting them and gently letting go, smiling softly.

"Let me know when you're ready to have the gravity back on. I'm going to do the engine checklist and a few other things. If you need me and I can't hear you, your suit has a communicator and there's the ship comm on the navigation panel. Ghost can show you where it is."

Nodding once, the Titan shoved off the nearest wall, then pulled himself through the main area to the panel leading into the engineering duct. A moment of adjustments and he was disappearing in the shaft full of wiring, pulling himself down the ladder therein.

Ghost remained with the other two, making himself available to nudge them somewhere or explain things. Or just be a friend where he could. He did cautiously follow them around, mostly fretting over Ren, it seemed.

Aoba was left to wonder if gravity was even necessary, himself. Maybe he’d change his mind after the novelty had worn off, but then again, how could it? He’d never experienced anything like it.

One more thing to add to the list.

He also thought Ren was enjoying himself at least a little, even if he wasn’t showing it the ways that he and Declan had. They experimented with the ways that the Allmate could, essentially, do a controlled ricochet from surface to surface, since he wasn’t equipped to pull himself along the railings and other handholds. With Ghost helping, and Ren’s various systems updated to the point that such calculations were quickly refined, it ended up being not too hard at all.

Aoba liked these downtime moments to interact with Ghost directly, too. He was as much a personality as Ren was and he wondered, in a way, if Ghost helped fill a companionship need he’d have gotten from Beni back home. Maybe if he gave them time alone to talk, Ren would enjoy it. This was the most his Allmate had spoken and truly interacted with anyone since the night before.

At one point he saw that Ren had a variety of windows open as they spoke, including holographic images of his humanoid Rhyme shape, but by then Aoba had pulled his way back to that second seat and strapped himself back into it just to ‘sit’ and watch the stars. Another thing on the list.

Ghost found Rhyme shapes very fascinating and asked quite a few questions himself. It was at the least a very short-lived era of human entertainment, and apparently unique to the island Aoba hailed from. He mused idly what sort of body he might have, what he might look like. He mused, too, what type of Allmate he could have been. Then again, he supposed he'd probably look just like himself as an Allmate. Still, to have a human form might have made life easier. Or more complicated, since he wouldn't be quite as mobile or transmat as flawlessly. But if he could design a shell for a Ghost, that allowed humanoid mobility...

Nonsense, he shook himself, returning to more simple conversation topics.

Declan returned about twenty minutes later, floating into Aoba's peripheral vision. Drifting himself over, he tapped the man's shoulder and nodded behind him.

"Come on. There's an observation window down below. I strapped some hammocks to the flooring grates. With the gravity off it'll be just as good as laying down and looking straight up into space," he whispered, leaving Ghost and ren out of it for the moment.

“Hammocks?” Aoba repeated, smile a little quirked at what sounded to him like a pretty whimsical idea. That didn’t mean it was bad, though, so he undid the bits securing himself to the seat and pushed himself out of it, this time with much better coordination than all his flailing about before. “Alright, lead the way.”

Ghost and Ren seemed to be bonding quite well, so Aoba simply wasn’t of a mind to disturb them. Maybe he and Ren could have better luck at addressing their own quarrel the night before, too. But later. After he saw whatever space hammocks looked like.

Slightly more utilitarian than whimsical, but still a generally light-hearted appearance in an otherwise very militaristic setting. Two padded hammocks with zippers on them were clipped to the floor with carabiners, loosely hanging there as though Aoba and Declan were the ones upside down after "climbing" the ladder through the engineering ducts.

Just as he said, a little further forward towards what was the cockpit up above, a large observation window curved along the ship's keel, grid scaffolding around it. That metal grating was what he attached the hammocks to, meaning that once they were in them, they'd only see out the bubble of the window. It was as close to floating outside as they could get without suits.

Helping Aoba maneuver into one of the two, Declan slid himself into the other and half zipped himself in, scooting around a bit before relaxing with a long sigh.

"It's not all of space around you, but it's pretty close...It's not the best way to sleep, but it's good for a nap, or just...drifting off in thought, sometimes."

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