orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

When Aoba slid onto the stool nearest him, Declan's bright eyes flicked to the side, blinking twice in mild confusion. One, it was just uncomfortable for most people just for how wide he was, which always meant some part of him was bound to brush or jostle them and two, no one wanted to be around him, but a select few. The bartender watched, smiling crookedly as he slid two drinks over the table, a plain beer for Aoba and a brightly-colored cocktail for Declan.

"Stop trying to be someone you ain't, Declan," the old man grunted, plucking the glass of scotch from the Guardian's hands and downing it himself without blinking. "You ain't got the stomach for it. Just drink your fruity drinks and enjoy yourself, boy."

Sliding his eyes sidelong and glancing at the rest of the bar from behind the safety of his hair, Declan hunched over his new drink and sipped it with markedly more enthusiasm than he'd shown for the smoky gold liquor from before. Content that his work was done, the bartender went off to entertain the needs of others, leaving Declan and Aoba along at their quiet end of the bar.

"You're welcome," came the polite reply in that same deep, gentle voice. Declan didn't look up to meet Aoba's eyes, but he clearly wasn't mute, or disinclined to talk. Just unsure and inexperienced with being addressed directly. "I don't like drunks," he added with a small frown, the man's full lips almost pouting with the expression.

Declan. Aoba caught the name better this time, paying more active attention. But... some of those murmurs from behind had called him "Decker"? Like the gang Aoba had just portal-hopped away from. Was that a coincidence? Was this some other version of Steelport?

Aoba glanced down at the gang colors he'd been made to wear, then back at the people filling the bar. No, nobody looked anything like a member of any of the gangs that had occupied Steelport. None of those distinctive team ensembles were present except on Aoba himself.

He folded his hands politely around the beer he'd been given, considering that he might actually have to drink it for politeness' sake. Cuffing a sound at Declan's reply, he had to agree. "I know, right? People that can't hold their alcohol have no business drinking it in the first place."

Case in point. Aoba looked down into his beer with a very similar lack of interest to what the pale giant had been studying the scotch with before.

"Your name's Declan, was it?" His pronunciation was a bit off, but mostly he got it. "I'm Aoba. Nice to meet you."

Another moment of silence, glowing silver eyes watching Aoba with a sidelong look before the Guardian shifted in his seat enogh to reach out a gloved palm to offer a shake. He was gentle, soft-spoken and polite when he wasn't avenging people in bathrooms, evidently.

"Declan. Yes. It's very nice to meet you, Aoba."

"Yes! Nice to meet you!" chirped the little floating, geometric eye construct. His voice was cheerful, if a bit skittish-sounding - much noisier than Declan, at any rate.

"You better watch out! Don't let him fool you," someone called from across the bar, another person speaking up and adding their two cents with, "Yeah, no one around here calls him that! It's Decker, 'cuz that's what he does. Decks ya. Best watch yourself. You'll be next!"

The robotic eye made a small sound of distress, the blue ring of his ocular structure widening and narrowing as his odd, dull spines spun around him and he recoiled, looking at Declan who didn't flinch or comment, but carefully withdrew his hand before Aoba had a chance to take it. The young man could of course make a grab for it anyways, if he chose, but it was obvious that Declan was retreating out of courtesy and acknowledgment that someone may not be inclined to associate with him.

"You lot shut up back there or get out, y'hear?" the bartender growled, swatting the bartop with his wet rag, the noise quite loud. There were mutters of dissent, but no one spoke out. Declan, for his part, looked resigned to the reputation others gave him. He fully expected Aoba to join the bandwagon, gratitude or no, though he held no ill-will for it. People would do as they would.

Seeing the extended hand, Aoba came alert and began to turn, only to be interrupted by his own surprise at the return of the geometric Allmate. He could only assume that was what it was, of course—or something similar in nature. If nothing else, his mind assigned it that familiar label like a source of comfort.

Then the jeering from behind and again the other name: Decker. Aoba turned his head in search of the interrupting eavesdroppers, and as such missed the opportunity to take Declan’s offered shake. By the time Aoba looked back, his own hand still lifted to return the gesture, Declan had lowered his own.

Once again, the bartender defended his patron with the fruity drink. Blame it on having Mizuki for a friend, but Aoba remained inclined to trust the old guy’s judgment. Even if Declan had some kind of reputation like that, he’d come to Aoba’s aid, hadn’t he? That was reason enough to be grateful.

“Well. From the way they’re talking, I’ll assume any of those guys getting ‘decked’ means they deserved it,” Aoba announced, not lifting his voice above their conversational level but at the same time making no attempt not to be overhead.

The bartender stifled a laugh, glancing at Aoba with a wink and grin that suggested he enjoyed the boy's moxie. Declan looked back to Aoba, squinting briefly before offering a very small, uncertain smile and shrug, massive shoulders rising and falling in an overall minute gesture. He supposed they had all earned it at some point or another. People liked to act like assholes when they were drunk and if Declan was around, he showed them the door and the error of their ways, simple as that. Granted there wasa lot more unconsciousness involved, but the end result was the same.

Injured pride made bitter men, he supposed, sniffing faintly and sipping his drink briefly.

"Little prick," someone muttered, drawing Declan's attention. His head slowly swiveled around, bringing with it the shrill scraping of chair legs on the floor as several patrons pushed their seats back, afraid they might have to cut and run. Cowards, the lot of them. All hot air and big talk, but the second poking the bear actually woke it up they were ready to cut and run. Lucky for them, Declan wasn't inclined to start a riot, focusing instead back upon Aoba.

"I like your hair," he murmured, blinking slowly before turning back to his drink. Nothing big said, no attempts at touching, not even a compliment, really. Just a flat statement, the Guardian pointing out a fact. He didn't elaborate, but saying he found the color very flattering or attractive on Aoba was bound to cause a stir, which wasn't his intention. He simply wasn't even a little good at opening conversation. He was responsive, but obviously shit at striking things up on his own. No doubt part of the reason behind his reputation of being more surly than he actually was.

Maybe the craziest thing about all this was the fact that Aoba sort of felt more comfortable right here in this giant’s shadow than he had at any point during that month in Steelport. Oh, soon enough he’d have to deal the fact he was in a new world he knew nothing about with no means of support while he searched for the next portal (barring getting shanghaied into another gang or something), but right now, this was almost kind of familiar.

Well. Up to the hair compliment. The amused look Aoba had been tossing backwards at those scraping sounds turned into a doubletake at what he at least heard as an unexpected compliment. He looked back towards Declan in surprise at the shift in conversation, his thoughts visibly getting stuck in the change of mental gears for a few moments. It wasn’t like it felt awkward, though…at least he didn’t think Declan was hitting on him all of a sudden. Right?

It seemed to follow naturally enough to Aoba: if everyone in here thought Declan was just going to punch them, he probably wasn’t used to carrying a conversation.

It helped that Declan didn’t do like those girl-friends of Koujaku’s and try to touch him, too.

“Thanks,” he managed instead, wrangling his expression around to a smile as he took a gamble (half forgetting he wasn’t home, admittedly) and pointed towards the geometric robot floating nearby. “I like your Allmate.”

"I'm a Ghost, actually," the floating eye piped up, squinting and rotating in a manner that suggested a well-meaning smile. He had a voice and an eye, and it was good enough. It certainly emoted more than Declan did, who hunched slightly at Aoba's words, cheeks coloring noticeably. Easily embarrassed, even by his own words and actions.

"You're not precisely human," Ghost observed, drawing Declan's silver glance. "Are you an Agent of the Nine?" the eye asked curiously, mirroring Declan's own interest.

"I don't think so," Declan mumble, shaking his head slightly.

"why? Just because he doesn't look like Xur?" Ghost asked, swiveling to look at Declan, who shrugged and didn't elaborate. He rarely felt the need to explain himself. No one seemed to understand his perspective or intuition anyways.

Ghost, huh? Must be its model. Aoba’s hand drifted to his satchel as he continued to neglect his beer and considered waking Ren instead, only to be flummoxed by what came out of the robot’s mouth…er, speakers…next.

“Not precisely…?” Aoba repeated dumbly, right through Declan and Ghost addressing each other instead of him. This was an Aoba who had never encountered Toue, never learned the truth of his own existence. Instead of walking into a Rhyme drive-by he’d walked into a portal—and the rest had been history up until now.

He laughed clumsily when the other two paused, not all that sure what the misunderstanding was but obviously this was nothing but some kind of misunderstanding. “I don’t know anything about any Agents—” (that wasn’t any relation to being a ‘Chosen One’, was it?) “—but I’m definitely human.”

…though perhaps that begged the question: what was ‘human’ in this world? Someone like Declan? But most of those guys jeering at them looked like regular people as Aoba would expect people to look….

"Well, if you insist, but I know a human when I see one," Ghost replied sulkily, prompting Declan to reach up and grab him from the air. Turning the little thing so they were eye to eye, the Guardian grunted, then let Ghost go. The construct spun lightly into the air, then dematerialized before Aoba's eyes.

"He's a Ghost. He can scan you," Declan explained, turning to finish off the last of his drink. Noting Aoba hadn't touched the beer at all, the Guardian took a small leap and cleared his throat, gesturing vaguely towards the door.

"I have to head out. Would you like to walk with me? No one will bother you." Really it was just an offer to get out of the bar safely. Declan didn't have anywhere he needed to be at the moment. He had bounties he could be pursuing, but it wasn't as if he needed the money. He just wanted to get Aoba out of nosy earshot.

"Thank you," the Guardian rumbled, rising from his seat and dropping a handful of glowing blue crystals on the table, which the bartender scooped up with a nod.

"Anytime, Declan. See you around. You too, kid. You're welcome anytime."

Well, Aoba was just going to pass that off as some difference between humans in this world and his own, then. It was silly to think anything otherwise because, after all, he was human. Even if he did have sensation in his hair.

Before Aoba could start to really wonder if maybe Ghost’s scan could pick up something that subtle, Declan spoke and moved. The young man visibly doubletaked at the crystals handed over as payment, but his attention snapped quickly back to the other.

“Ah? Oh, yes! Thank you very much, I’d appreciate that,” he stammered, slipping off the stool. Especially given that some of those mutterers in the background were still paying attention, he got the hint, but he paused to address the bartender one last time. Would Aoba ever come back? Who knew. He didn’t know how long he’d be stuck in this world but it wouldn’t hurt to remember a friendly face.

“Thanks, mister. Next time I’ll pay for a drink just like his,” he answered with a wry little smile and a jerk of his thumb towards Declan. It was meant like an apology for having not touched the beer but he hoped the guy understood.

The bartender nodded, leaving Declan and Aoba to depart as they pleased. No one made to follow them, of course, so the two were able to go without incident. Out of the bar Ghost rematerialized, spinning about idly before drifting off into the sky and heading towards...

"...The Traveler seems brighter today..." Declan murmured, more to himself than speaking to Aoba as he looked up a the gargantuan sphere in the sky over a city that was far, far larger and more advanced than the seedy interior of the bar suggested. Much larger and more advanced than anything even Aoba's world had to offer. There were starships in the air, people buzzing through the streets on some sort of hoverbike, normal humans, robotic people, more colorful hair and skinned people like Declan with smooth skin and eerie, too-pretty faces.

"If Ghost says you aren't human, you aren't. But I don't think you're a spy or anything bad, so I thought we should leave if it was something to talk about so no one got the wrong idea," Declan stated abruptly, turning to look at Aoba from his not unimpressive height. At 6'9", 419lbs, people moved when Declan walked through, unwilling to be a speedbump in his life.

"I don't care if you aren't human. I'm not," the massive man remarked, shrugging slightly.

"My apologies!" Ghost piped up, looking bashful in it's own way. "I didn't think about the trouble it might cause. I was only making an observation. I hope I haven't been too careless."

Edited 2015-12-13 19:31 (UTC)

If Aoba heard them, it was only subconsciously. What the two would see, looking at him now, was the shellshocked face of a man who didn't know what was in front of his eyes and hadn't been suspecting anything remotely like it. Wide eyes, mouth hanging open... blood rushing out of his face.

It was enough to make him a bit lightheaded, in fact, enough that when he felt himself sway a bit Aoba put a hand out, automatically and unthinkingly bracing himself on Declan's sturdy frame.

Oh. Goodness. Even Steelport had felt closer to home than this.

"Where am I...?" he asked himself, stunned and under his breath as he fumbled to grasp everything he was seeing.

"Earth, The Last City," Declan replied calmly, shifting enough to put one hand at the small of Aoba's back, keeping the blue-haired man standing. He didn't mind being used for support - liked it, in fact, for how much people tended to avoid him.

"Are you lost?" the Guardian asked, tilting that glowing silver gaze down. "Did you crash here, or were you only just brought back?" he offered up suggestions, knowing full well it might be none of those things but that Aoba needed some kind of cover story. Declan didn't care about people's origins, just their direction and motivation, and Aoba seemed neither intent on harm or malevolent in any measurable sense of the word. So it was something else, and while he was a little curious he wasn't even a little judgmental. If Aoba wanted to tell the truth he would. Declan knew he had to earn the right to know a man's story and they'd only just met so he didn't expect much.

Despite technically being the one to initiate contact with the other man in the first place, and despite his distraction, the feel of a hand somewhere as intimate as the small of his back gave Aoba a surprised rush of chills up his spine. It wasn’t inherently a bad thing, though—certainly it helped reel him back from the edge of that sense of being overwhelmed, looking out at the vastness of a city that far exceeded anything he’d ever known. Not even the glimpse of Oval Tower rising in the distance could compare to that great spherical…thing in the sky.

He turned his wide eyes back up towards Declan. Aoba’s was definitely a guileless face. He was too honest for his own good sometimes and he definitely didn’t have a poker face enough to hide just how plainly out of his element that he was.

“Lost…” he repeated, a strained laugh escaping him next as he looked back across the vista before him. It was a helpless, not humorous sound. “I crashed alright…right into the bathroom of a bar in the middle of…whatever this is.”

He gestured weakly with both hands before dropping them heavily to his sides with a sigh to match. Well on the bright side, he supposed, at least he hadn’t fallen right into the clutches of a crime syndicate this time.

The Guardian considered Aoba for a moment, bright eyes still as he thought to himself. Eventually he turned away, looking across the cityscape towards the massive tower in the distance. A few more moment ticked by, Declan weighing his options, calculating pros and cons and separating the right path fro the wrong.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" he asked eventually, turning back to Aoba and inhaling deeply. It was more of a strain than he thought it would be, talking so much. He rarely did more than grunt in conversation, never really having a reason to say more - particularly since he tended to travel with people that talk a great deal. It was like exercising a forgotten muscle, exhausting but...rewarding.

"I won't hurt you," he blurted, soft and sudden, gazing down at the blue-haired man with as sincere a look as Aoba wore a guileless one. "I don't hurt people for no good reason, no matter what everyone says. If you need a place to stay while you figure things out, I've got the safest place in the city," the Guardian clarified, lifting his hand to point at the tower at the edge of the city. There were others in the greater distance, set into massive walls around the perimeter of the vast metropolis, but the nearest was the one Declan indicated.

While Declan was silent in his thought for those moments, Aoba was similarly mute as he stared across the city and wondered where to start. Not being trapped by the Deckers meant he could look freely for another portal…but just like the last one, he didn’t know where a portal would dump him until he went through it. Should he take his time? Try to get his bearings, maybe hope he could get a few more supplies than the sodas and snacks he’d managed to cram in his satchel along with Ren? Or did he just hop portals as quickly as he could find them and hope that sooner than later one would dump him back home—

You couldn’t really forget that there was a giant like Declan standing right beside you, but Aoba almost did, anyway. The pale man spoke again and Aoba stared up at him in shock at the offer, his mouth falling open with a wordless sound.

“I—” He looked the way Declan pointed, fumbling to decide, but fear of the big man wasn’t even on the list of things to make Aoba hesitate. Declan had surprised him, sure, even been intimidating, but Aoba didn’t feel the least bit afraid of him.

His tongue caught up with his thoughts, sort of. “—I can’t pay you anything. I don’t even know what those crystals you gave the bartender were. I don’t want to be a freeloader…but….” Would he be an idiot to turn down the offer? He’d just be living off the streets unless he found something like a homeless shelter.

“…If you really mean that and I wouldn’t be a bother, I’d be very grateful, Declan.”

"You don't have to pay anything. I have the room and I almost never use it. I spend more time on the front lines than in my own bed anyways," the Guardian gently reassured Aoba, shaking his head slowly. Reaching up and tugging the shoulder of his combat gear, the big man tried to get more comfortable where he stood, feeling unsure despite his conviction about the invitation. He just didn't invite people to have anything to do with him past work.

"Food is mostly prefabricated and cost-free, and my room is free, too. I'm a Guardian, and they're given living quarters at no charge. Most people in the city don't pay for their housing. Culturally we're past that. Free energy, things like that," he mused, wondering how much or how little Aoba knew of anything. Did he have some kind of amnesia, or...

"I mean it. I'm not using anything anyways. At least that way you'll be able to meet with The Speaker or any of the Vanguard. Someone might be able to help you better than I can. Besides, it's a safe and peaceful place...I think it's nice," he added the last a little childishly, instantly regretting it despite feeling it was worth saying.

…Aoba could barely conceive of it. Free food? Free housing? Not just out of Declan’s kindness, but…culturally? Compared to the strain and crowded living back in Midorijima, the gap of poverty between Platinum Jail and the Old Resident District….

He couldn’t help it; he actually began to feel a little hopeful and it showed on his face too, a tentative thought that maybe this world would be a bit easier to navigate despite being so alien…regardless of it being Earth or not. Then at Declan’s last remark, Aoba actually laughed. It sounded much warmer than his last one.

“Declan…I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but the place I came from, I was bossed around by a whole gang of punks that called themselves ‘Deckers’. I know we’ve only just met…but I get the feeling you’re one of the last people in the world that deserves to be called something like that.”

It was impulsive, speaking his mind like that, and it wasn’t like he really knew the guy, but Aoba couldn’t help but express his gratitude.

Silver eyes blinked once before widening slowly, a lavender hue rising to Declan's otherwise strong face. The bulky man drew himself up and looked away, reaching up to scratch the back of his head with a gloved hand, oblivious to the quizzical look Ghost was giving him.

"Thank you. This way," he muttered brusquely, not accustomed to compliments of any sort. He turned on a heavy boot and headed towards the tower, debating having Ghost port them there. It would be cruel and disorienting without warning, so he did the next best thing and asked.

"It's a little more than three miles from here, though it looks closer since it's so big. Do you want to walk, or do you mind if Ghost takes us there right away? He'll use the transmat from my ship and just...get us there," he tried to explain, gesturing with one hand the universal sign for "poof". Trying to elaborate on particle matter transmission wasn't something he was very well equipped to do in layman terms.

The color of it was off, but Aoba was pretty sure he knew a blush when he saw it. Really, it only seemed to confirm his feelings: when did you ever see a bad guy blush? Smiling to himself, Aoba adjusted the weight of his satchel on his hip and followed along when Declan began to walk.

Three miles wasn’t a short walk, but Aoba wasn’t about to complain after a life spent taking footpath shortcuts all over Midorijima anyway. The presentation of an alternative was yet another surprise in the series of the ones that kept getting flung at him as this day progressed.

‘Transmat’ wasn’t a word that made any sense to him but the ‘poof’ gesture sort of did. Aoba blinked, making the only logical connection he had the experience to make.

“What, like a portal?”

"Oh no, actually the transmat breaks you down into billions of tiny particles taht transfer rapidly over--"

"Kind of like a portal, I guess," Declan cut Ghost off, not wanting the little guy to go off on some science tangent. Ghost did most of the talking for him, but he felt obligated to make efforts where Aoba was concerned. He had saved the man, and that implied a measure of responsibility. It wasn't one he minded, either, but it meant contending with Ghost, which was difficult, at times.

"You're in one spot one minute and then you're in another spot the next. But it can be really dizzying to some first-timers. Still, it'll get us there before you could sat transmatter..."

B-billions of…. That didn’t sound safe. That sounded…scary and uncomfortable. Teleporting? Aoba knew teleporting in a sci-fi movie sense, but, billions of particles….

…did he even really know how the portals moved him from one place to another across space and time across Earth’s surface? Declan and Ghost talked like the ‘transmat’ was something normal, even. Would it be a nuisance if he asked to walk anyway? Take, you know, the scenic route? But he didn’t want to impose….

Aoba gripped the strap of his satchel, feeling nervous, but deciding to keep trusting in Declan. Route options presented to him, Aoba hesitated but ultimately chose:

“As long as I don’t crash into some guy at a urinal again, how bad can it be? Go ahead.”

And just like that they were standing in a courtyard in the clouds, overlooking the city instead of being inside it. Aoba's ears popped and he was sure to feel cold and hot at the same time, sort of like being microwaved, but the transmission of matter was nearly instantaneous.

And the view was incredible.

Other people hurried about around the courtyard, most of them outfitted similar to Declan in armor and laden with weapons. there were people in long robes over the armor, people with cloaks and hoods and burly men and women in plate armor more like Aoba's current benefactor. the races were a mix of robots, people like Declan and normal humans, but unlike the people in the bar who all wore plainclothes and had the physical fitness and appearance of civilians, everyone in the tower aside from those doing menial tasks were obviously soldiers of some type.

"Welcome to the Tower. This is the central hub for all Guardians. We come here for our gear and assignments, and anything else of value of time or money."

It wasn’t even between one blink and the next. Like Declan said…poof. Aoba’s ears popped and he jumped with a yelp of surprise for the sudden transition, warned or not. He hadn’t even started to brace himself for the unexpected.

Poof.

Aoba jumped to the side, too, jostling Declan’s arm with his body—as much as a twig like him could jostle the solidness of a redwood, anyway. It wasn’t quite trying to hide in the shadow of his mighty benefactor, but it would be a lie to say it wasn’t jolting towards that which was more familiar than the rest, even if only just.

Another bit of brain- and tongue-fumbling for Aoba followed as he reassembled his thoughts with his observations.

“W…wait…wait. You mentioned….” Guardians. Front lines. “…Is a Guardian some kind of…soldier? Is…is there a war going on?”

If Aoba had ever entertained any notions of trying to blend in, or at least not let on that he was as ignorant and alien as he was here, that was all out the window now. There was just no hiding it, obvious as it was.

None of the other Guardians seemed inclined to stop whatever they were doing to eavesdrop - part of why Declan wanted to go to the Tower as opposed to stay in the city. Gossip was much less common among the men and women of the tower.

"In a manner of speaking," he answered, waiting patiently for Aoba to reorient himself before talking. He cast a bland look Ghost's way, not pleased that the construct hadn't even given Aoba warning, but he was a brash little thing, prone to hurrying things along when waiting seemed pointless. It certainly made for trouble in the field.

"The Speaker could explain better than I can...and he's sure to tell you everything when you do speak to him, but...to simplify: a long time ago the Traveler came here from the furthest reaches of space. It lifted the galaxy into a Golden Age that lasted ages. But where the Traveler is Light, there is Darkness out there as well. It has been creeping closer for all of history. The Traveler kept it at bay as long as it could, and now that task falls to us. It...it isn't a war like from the darker ages of men. It isn't man fighting man. It's man fighting the thing it's been afraid of since the dawn of time," he shrugged slightly, not sure how to better explain such an abstract concept.

"We fight common enemies of flesh and blood as well, protecting he people and trying to reestablish a foothold in the galaxy, but mostly Guardians are the Light that banishes the Dark. Simply as that."

Edited 2015-12-14 07:28 (UTC)

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