orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

Ren and Ghost's assistance was invaluable. Aoba found he read through the script rather better than he'd managed with the myths, maybe because it was so much more relevant to his situation, but the two constructs still made headway far faster than he would have on his own.

It seemed... impossible. Countless worlds and times, but Earth was the relevant one. The Darkness was the ancient foe so offhandedly dismissed in the Guide's message. But then was it really defeated? The records came from the past, but the Darkness was here now, so somewhere through the portals it must have been defeated in the future...?

Headache. But also promising. The Darkness WOULD be defeated, Aoba choose to think. Declan's hopes would pay off, even if they couldn't be quite sure of the route it would take to get there....

He was engrossed enough he almost missed Declan slumping by them, but then the availability of the shower reminded him of how much he wanted it. Asking Ghost to catch Declan up on what they'd discovered, he made his move on the shower with a fresh set of under-gear.

Could've just shared, Desire grumbled after the water was running. He was unexpectedly louder than Aoba cared for.

It's not like this is a locker room. Besides... that would be more unkind to him than anything.

Level with me here, Reason. You really think the big guy just wants something physical? Do you seriously think after everything we've heard from him that he's the 'friends with benefits' type?

And here came the problem with intrusive thoughts having a complete consciousness of their own behind them. The nagging aspect went on, giving voice to some underlying current where they'd somehow become the same again, despite neither truly noticing.

Aoba noticed when his blood flow started going a little too south, though. And then a LOT too south. And then, he just didn't want to deal with it. Unlike Declan, though, he had other options quite literally complaining at him.

They switched. Desire didn't stop complaining, but Reason backed away as the other took hold in all ways and 'addressed' things for them. And when they were done, dried, and dressed, he let the other stay in front for a while.

Golden-eyed, Aoba slid into the copilot seat, leaning back and kicking a foot up in a place relatively devoid of sensitive controls and crossing his legs.

While Aoba showered and handled things the way Declan should have, the Titan listened to things explained to him by the two constructs. Pulling up the archives copied by them, he started going through the information and trying to arrange a more coherent timeline. In the end, the only thing he knew for sure was that being a Chosen One was terrifying and not limited to adults; the one mentioned in the writing was just a young boy.

Shaking his head and placing a few calls to contacts across the system, Declan arranged a meeting with the Sovs and got a line on where Xur might be lurking over the next couple of weeks. By the time Aoba settled into the other seat, the Awoken figured he had a pretty solid itinerary for them, and was optimistic about their options.

"I've got us a meeting with the Queen while we in the Reef. Hopefully her brother won't be in court at the time but...he usually is," Declan sighed, shifting a bit in his seat to look over at his companion.

"Are you hungry? I was thinking about heating something up. Ghost said he found a movie he thought we'd like. He said it was extremely popular pre-Golden Age. The Notebook? He said it was already a classic by your time, so maybe too old?"

“Ah, right. Thought about making a snack for us, but figured that better wait until after showering,” Desire answered for them, briefly omitting pronouns in a more natural flow of their shifting identity, but his body language and slightly deeper, more casual tone of his voice still revealed him as the aspect in the driver’s seat.

But, for a change, there was little in the way of ulterior motives for him. He’d helped Reason out, but now he just wanted to be out. Be the one in charge of their body as they moved about, do something perfectly normal like eat…and watch a movie? Sure, why the hell not. Desires encompassed the little things in life just as much as they did the more carnal, controversial ones.

He even only gave Ren a little flick of his fingers in a ‘hey, howarya’ sort of wave when he caught the Allmate staring, acknowledging but not (deliberately) antagonizing.

“Can’t say I’ve heard of the movie, but sure, I’m game.”

He noted the minor difference, perfectly willing to leave it unaddressed. He meant it when he intended to treat all sides of Aoba as decently as the next. If the other Aoba were interested in a movie and food, why not? He wasn't sure what ended up shifting them, but he supposed if he could leave behind another Declan to handle things while he napped inside his own head, he would.

If it were even like that, he mused, pushing himself out of his seat and moving to the kitchenette. He reached out, squeezing Aoba's shoulder gently, reassuring and acknowledging to Desire that he knew who he was talking to and welcomed him back around.

"Ghost, please start the film," he remarked, glancing up as the window shuttered and the movie displayed. The opening segment ran while he heated up some sort of protein casserole mix, wandering back and handing Desire a plate, pale eyes looking the other man over. He turned to the film and forced his attention there, unwilling to let his mind linger on thoughts of Aoba in the shower again. Nothing down that road but passive agony.

That show of acknowledgement had Desire…just smiling. It was a far more content, much less smug or arrogant than many of his expressions the other times he’d been fronting. Okay, so maybe getting in a good solid jerk-off had done a little in the mellowing him out with a dose of endorphins, but being taken in stride was a good feeling, too. Especially when he’d been reaming Declan pretty roughly at his last appearance.

And not in the fun way.

But he sunk back in his seat further, accepted the plate when it was given to him, and behaved. Being more of an asshole was his tendency compared to the demeanor of their overall ‘Aoba’, but they were still the same. If some idea or another made ‘Reason’ too outright miserable just at the thought of it, Desire couldn’t—or at least, was no longer quite so willing—to completely override him. They were feeling out coexistence with the limited tools they had available to him.

He ate the meal, watched the movie. It was a little dull and slow for him at some parts, but for being a sappy romance, it oddly wasn’t all that bad. As the credits rolled, Desire wagged an approving finger at the screen. He’d stayed dry-eyed the whole time, despite the sad turns of the tale, but Reason felt more somber in the back of their mind. Still, it remained Desire that was present to offer commentary.

“Guy knew what he wanted and stuck with it to the end. I liked that guy.”

Declan, had not. The Titan was a silent-sobber, so Aoba was at no point immediately alerted to the slow collapse of Declan's world. The whole thing was just too sad.

"He worked so hard!" Declan croaked, and the second he was looked at, it was easy to tell that at some point in the end he had fallen completely to pieces. Pale eyes were puffy and ringed with color from the strain of tears, and pale cheeks were sticky and wet. Full lips curved in a pronounced expression of sorrow, pouting hard at the unfairness of it all.

"He...he loved her so much...he worked so hard to win her heart and then that happened? How is that right? What's wrong with the world when no matter how hard you fight you still lose in something that ought to be so....so clear...And she loved him too!" Declan protested, fingers gripping his empty plate so hard it would have broken if it weren't metal.

"She loved him back! It's supposed to be a happy ending. Why'd she end up like that? What's wrong with her?" Of course, Declan didn't know anything about dementia, Alzheimer's, or any degenerative disease since it was all eradicated long before he resurrected. All he knew was he did not like the movie. Not one bit.

...They should probably stick to family films...

…woah. Color Desire many, many shades of surprised. Not so much that Declan was moved, given how sensitive the Guardian had proved to be, but that he was moved so emotively. Desire turned sidesaddle in his chair, setting his plate aside on a ledge as he considered the…absurdity of what he was seeing.

It’s not absurd to be sad, Reason chided him, but softer than Desire did when he was the one leveling criticisms.

Desire was quiet, listening to Reason’s undercurrent for a few moments. There was an inclination to switch again, to let him address this, but neither one of them acted on it.

“It was in her brain, big guy,” he finally answered, reaching across the space between their seats to touch the nearer of those white-knuckled hands. (Whiter?) “She was old. Her brain was falling apart from the inside.”

He was grateful for the touch, a rush of breath leaving his lungs before he sniffled, chest trembling with a shuddering intake of air.

"That's what happens when you get old?" he wheezed, almost falling apart again. Ghost was there for a save, though, rescuing Desire as well.

"Not anymore, Declan. Deterioration of that nature has long since been dealt with. The movie is very old, keep that in mind. The times were different." He cast a meaningful, apologetic look Desire's way. He should have known better than to give Declan such a dramatic emotional topic for a film.

"But in Aoba's time..." he trailed off and moved his hand to grip Desire's, the very thought too horrible. He would simply have to make sure Aoba received all relevant healthcare treatments and inoculations before he left! Yes. Good plan. Maybe.

"...I don't want anything like that to happen to you," he eventually hiccuped, broad body suddenly so small in his sorrow. "Is that selfish?"

Desire’s response was to chuff, his vaguely-lost expression shifting to something more pleased than maybe it had the right to be, but then again, maybe not. He folded his free hand over Declan’s, sandwiching it with gentle pats.

“Nah. I wouldn’t want my brain going all to mush, either. You go ahead and be as selfish as you want there. I like hearing that kind of thing.” With a few more pats, he added, “But if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure I don’t have to worry about something like that happening in my head. I’m a little split up, sure, but other than that, brains are my specialty.”

"Mm...I don't know..." Declan murmured, looking over at Ghost fretfully before inhaling deeply and letting out a slow sigh.

"I know you had a general physical and checks, but...you should get all the preventative things before you leave. All the vaccinations and tests. They cured everything. They cured old age," the Titan snorted softly. Not entirely true, since one could still die of old age - it simply took three times as long.

"You have to live and come back...You said you would..."

“Look at you, you big softie,” Desire teased, now lifting that hand of his to Declan’s face and pap-papping one of those tearstained cheeks. “Did the mean ol’ movie get you all sad about losing me? Maybe I’ll want to watch this sort of thing with you more often.”

But despite the words, there was no malice. The words weren’t the kindest, perhaps, but he meant no mockery by them. Declan’s reaction to the idea of loss, to the loss of Aoba, made him feel warm and valued. Loved, even. It was probably loved, even if no one but Desire was admitting it. With the pads of his fingers, he wiped at the sticky trails of Declan’s tears. It was a gentle touch.

“I’m not breaking my promise. I’ll come home again. Just gotta settle some things back on the island, you know? After that, I know exactly what I want.”

Pale eyes glanced off to the side, brows furrowing. He felt embarrassed for a moment, but the touched soothed the weak sting of the words and he looked back, still frowning. He didn't know if he was all that reassured or not, since the man wasn't really agreeing to the healthcare, but he reminded himself he had to accept Aoba's autonomy, sensible of otherwise.

"As long as you come back...I just...I don't know. It terrifies me, a bit, to think that's the kind of world you go back to. Mine is war-torn and dangerous, but I still feel like it's safer." Because he was in it, and he could shield Aoba with his body, give up his life to protect the man, again and again. There was nothing he couldn't or wouldn't do in his own world for Aoba. But Aoba didn't have a Declan back home. It wasn't safe.

“Hm. Probably is.” Desire regarded the Titan for a moment. Just one. He didn’t even have to dig, not with Declan all worked up and emoting things plain as day. It was right there on the surface.

Come on, Reason. You’re seeing this too, I know you are.

On the outside, it was just the barest pause between one set of words and the next. Desire picked them specifically because of what he read, because he wanted to see what would come of them.

“I don’t have a big guy like you looking out for me back there.”

Part of him was pleased by the notion - the very small, genuinely selfish part that still meant well - that Aoba was unattached back home. He still remembered that the man also came from a world where sexuality mattered and that he was evidently not interested in male suitors, but at least in this world it was Declan that got to fill important relationship roles. Granted everything was required to remain platonic, but the Titan didn't mind only being allowed that much.

Love was a strange thing, he mused, looking at Aoba's face quietly with an almost sad smile.

"I guess you don't really need one, then, hm? You do just fine back there. I consider myself privileged to be allowed to, here." Genuine truth, that. Even if his affections weren't wanted, at least he was allowed to express them in whatever gentle ways.

"Mm...I don't want to watch that movie again, though," he remarked after a moment of thought on the matter. "It's very sad."

“And I don’t really like you making a sad face,” Desire had to admit, drawing back his hand at last. It made a brief detour by his mouth, easily mistaken, a soft dab of tongue against a finger to taste the salt before it was back on his lap in a resting gesture. “I like the part where it means you care that much, but not the part where you’re worrying about things that aren’t gonna happen.”

Desire hadn’t taken back the hand that Declan was still holding onto, though. That one, he just gaze a squeeze. “You want me to see the doc again before I go? No skin off my back. I don’t catch a cold ever again, and you don’t have to imagine my brain going mushy if I get old. Which probably won’t happen either, you know. Chosen One, remember?”

Still looking a bit doubtful, Declan decided to let it go. He had to trust Aoba, even if it all seemed a bit too dangerous for his taste. The mere possibility was terrifying. Moreso than physical monsters her could beat or bullets he could take.

"Would you?" he asked, somewhat mollified. "It would be an enormous relief," the Titan admitted with a soft sigh, squeezing back before reluctantly letting go.

"You want to watch something less...grim? I don't want to sleep on that," he murmured, a bit embarrassed. The last thing he wanted to dream about was being forgotten so sadly.

What a guy. Wanting him to go to the doctor to be healthy. There was a particular irony in that for Desire. After all, doctors made him think of Granny, medicating him into silence. The doctors of Declan’s era had been more beneficial for him by far.

“Sure, go for it,” he said by way of agreement, swinging back into his seat properly—well, facing the right way anyway. It stopped being rightly proper the moment he kicked his feet up on the machinery again, crossing his arms comfortably. “Sounds like you need something more family-friendly. Maybe even animated. Got anything like that in your archives, sparky?”

The last was directed towards Ghost. Nicknames for all.

"I do," Ghost huffed softly, squinting at being called Sparky. Though he wasn't about to admit he didn't mind the name all that much.

"Should we watch the usual?" he asked, bobbing over and looking at Declan. the Titan looked like he might protest. He worried that his preferences were too stupid or childish for Desire, but he gave a tentative nod. A few minutes later they were watching the Hunchback of Notre Dame as rendered by Disney, Declan wide-eyed and zoned in like it was the most serious thing in the world.

Well, it absolutely fit the bill for what Desire had imagined movie-wise, but he hadn’t expected the Guardian to be so truly into it.

Maybe the weirder part was that Desire got kind of into it, himself. Well, Declan probably wouldn’t want to know that this time around it was the villain that was the most fascinating to Desire’s inherent nature, but Quasimodo got plenty of points for breaking away from Frollo to do what he wanted, too. It wasn’t about the morals or doing good or bad things where Desire was concerned. It was going after what they wanted.

To that end, though, nobody particularly won. The villain died, and the girl went off with the supporting pretty-boy. Realistic, but kind of annoying. Brought some questions to Desire’s mind, but this time he looked over to make sure of Declan’s mood, first.

Declan was in a much better mood, head bobbing a little with the music to the credits, no tears. Humming to himself, he caught Desire looking at him and stilled, blinking owlishly.

"What's the matter? Did you not like it? I can still stay up if you want to watch something else."

“Nah, I think my ass is chafing from sitting here so long,” Desire answered, casual and crude but not actually sounding bothered by the fact that they’d just watched two feature-length movies in a row. He did lever himself up to stand and stretch, but it was unhurried. Relaxed, not trying to escape before a third movie might appear.

“But you do need to spill the beans, now, big guy. Sparky called this ‘the usual’. I’m curious what it is about this movie that makes it a favorite for you.”

Tilting his head slightly, Declan inhaled deeply and puffed his lips in thought, turning away to gaze at the ceiling for a moment.

"A lot of things. I like the deeper meaning in a lot of it. I like that there's a lot of fiction while there's still a measure of reality. I like that the good guys win, of course. The music is great. The religious aspects are really fascinating for me. I don't really understand, or share any of the views, but I like that even though God doesn't talk back, they have that faith. Like I have in the Traveler," he points out, humming a few bars of God Help the Outcasts.

"The Gargoyles remind me of Ghosts. Companions unique to Guardians, that soetimes only the Guardians can see or hear. I really like Quasimodo. He's a very...real character. Very honest. He's sad and alone, but he still believes he has something to live for, even if he never entirely grasps it himself. It's something bigger than his romance, and he...he isn't crippled by unrequited love. He's made better for it..."

A more thoughtful, less entertaining answer than possibly expected—up until the last bit, that was.

Oi. Reason. I think we just got called ‘Esmeralda’.

No response. Desire could tell perfectly well that Reason wasn’t nearly as asleep as he was trying to be. Another nail in the ‘the only one acting stupid here is you’ coffin, as far as Desire was concerned. But if this was the bed that Reason was making for himself—a very cold and lonely bed—then Desire was leaving him to squirm in it. For a while longer, anyway.

“Hm~m. I’ll withhold comments for tonight,” he drawled, just slightly sing-songing the words. Reason he was freely calling stupid left and right, but Declan’s ignorance was a few degrees more…forgivable. He wouldn’t have to interpret everything wrong if ‘Aoba’ would just stop running hot and cold on him, right? “I don’t want to ruin the mood. I liked this, big guy. I can barely remember the last time I got to be out and about and just do normal shit. Thanks, Declan.”

Desire had basic manners and the ability to use proper names? Whoda thunk it.

"You're welcome...but I don't think it's anything I need to be thanked for. You're my friend. I'm grateful that you were willing to spend time with me," Declan smiled warmly, leaning to the side and propping his cheek in one hand, elbow against the armrest of the chair. He was feeling much better now.

"You don't ever have to worry about anything with me. If I'm not on duty, I'm happy to spend time with you. Even when I'm on patrol I like keeping in touch. But...thank you for taking time for this and being patient with me. I know...I can be...embarrassing."

“I like that side of you,” Desire admitted freely, an answer that had just as many innocent connotations as it did more troublesome ones. “By which I mean I like all sides of you. It’s a fair exchange. We have a good thing going on here. A few wrinkles we’re still ironing out, sure, but….”

…okay. Just one thing. Behaving was hard, and Declan was an innocent victim of Reason’s foolishness. Not that that meant what Desire was thinking was at all smart, but he didn’t think of it as stirring the pot. Throwing the poor Guardian a bone, more like. Esmeralda had done it, so why not Aoba?

He bent over, taking advantage of the relaxed way Declan held himself, and kissed his cheek just shy of the corner of his mouth, skirting ‘platonic’ by a razor’s edge and a conspiratorially whispered-yet-vague, “Be patient for us both, big guy, alright?”

And then he was up and off again, taking their dirty plates with him to the kitchen area.

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