orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

"Yes," Declan answered, seeing no reason to lie or candy coat things. He looked on with amusement as Ghost and Ren spoke, the two worlds apart insofar as technology went, but no less different in having souls of their own. Granted neither could know the full extent of the other.

"Mostly because I have no reason not to be. All Guardians are given plenty of leave time, but I never take mine." Because there was no one to talk to, nothing to do and nowhere to go when you were so bad at making connections.

“Guess that makes me extra extra lucky you happened to still be in town today,” Aoba observed, though it fell flat as a lighthearted remark even before it had left his mouth and he realized it, too. He sighed immediately afterwards. “Sorry, that came out sounding more flippant than I meant.”

It did assure Aoba of something, though: he needed to tell Declan where he’d really come from. Aoba didn’t know if not being completely honest even mattered when no one so far even seemed to care, but the more Declan did for him, the more Aoba felt unworthy of it. The least Aoba could do in return was tell Declan the whole truth.

He resolved to do so as soon as they got inside Declan’s quarters.

It wasn't that no one cared so much as no one minded, but the distinction was easy to miss. Most Guardians were accustomed to dealing with unusual circumstances; Aoba would soon find out just how strange the future really was.

"It's alright. You're allowed to be a little testy, under the circumstances," Declan smiled gently before gesturing to the wall next to an indentation where the door obviously was.

"Put your hand here and I'll key you in so you can come and go as you like."

Once the system was set up to allow Aoba, Declan opened the door and stepped in. It was a large space, though mostly because it was so empty, everything in bland grays and whites and plain steel. The Floorplan was very open, a large couch in the center of the main room facing a panel that was likely a television. To one side was a small personal kitchen and to the other were two open doors, one to a bathroom, the other to a bedroom. There wereally windows and a balcony all on the side facing the city, ships zooming by, the Traveler in the distance.

The Guardian stepped in and turned, standing by the door and holding a hand out like a host ushering in a guest.

"Please make yourself at home. Ren as well, feel free to go wherever you like," he said with a small nod before looking around with a small frown. Maybe he should have picked up some curtains and some shaders, tried to add some color like other Guardians. Declan hadn't made any efforts to personalize the rooms.

When Aoba realized that the hand-scanner was a higher-tech equivalent of being given an extra set of keys he was almost dumbstruck. That was awfully trusting, wasn't it? Not that Aoba was a person who would abuse that trust, but it still surprised him. Nevermind that he was being given shelter in what was essentially a military barracks, and that misbehaving would have been incredibly stupid....

He was struck again by the Spartan quarters as he stepped inside and looked around. A private space, okay, set up like an apartment more than just what he imagined crew quarters would have. But Declan sure hadn't been kidding, huh? It didn't look lived in at all.

"Please excuse our intrusion," Aoba intoned politely, kneeling briefly and bracing his satchel. Ren hopped right out with a repeat of the same courteous words, himself, and trotted right off to map out the space.

"Thanks, Declan," Aoba added for them both as he stood and closed his satchel back up. Nothing in there now but junk food and energy drinks, stolen as emergency rations from the Deckers.

Well, no time like the present, and no real way to segue into it, so: "We'd really be in a bind without all your help. When I said... that I'd crashed? I mean... I came in through a portal that decided to dump me in that bathroom. One-way. And the side of the portal I started at... was somewhere in the past."

Time travel? Yep. Time travel. Earth was Earth, so it was cities and timelines that Aoba kept jumping, far as he could tell. And now Declan would call him crazy or something, right?

"That sounds very complicated," Declan mused, looking directly at Aoba and blinking slowly. "Ghost?" he added, tilting his head to the orb, who bobbed in the air in response.

"He's telling the truth, or at least believes himself to be," Ghost replied, tilting his spines left and right in a gesture similar to a shrug. "I have no reason to believe he isn't telling the truth. Even the Traveler had incomplete knowledge of the forces at play in the universe. Wormholes are only just being studied in earnest. Portals, if you will. There's nothing that says it can't be true. Especially since the Vex were defeated and the Vault of Glass sealed."

"That's fine then," Declan replied as easily as could be, tilting his head back to regard Aoba once again. Just like that, Aoba's concerns were dismissed. The Guardians weren't the sort of people to be thrown by portals, time, space.

"You're obviously not Vex," Declan added thoughtfully, moving past Aoba into the apartment and looking through the kitchen cabinets. Only one glass...he'd have to buy an extra set of dishes. Shaking his head slightly and getting cold water from the tap, he returned, holding the glass out to the smaller man. "And I would imagine a spy for the Vex wouldn't be organic and would probably be held to higher standards. No offense meant, only that you're not exactly discreet," the Guardian smirked, shrugging slightly.

"If there's a way to get you home, I'm sure the Warlocks can figure it out. Or maybe the Techeuns, if the Queen will permit an audience. I'll ask, if you like. Unless you're running away from home, in which case, you're still welcome to stay here as long as you like."

Just like that, Aoba was left to stand and stare. That was it? That’s fine? What, did Ghost’s scans include being some kind of floating lie detector, too?

A lot of what was said were things that made little sense to him, even after what briefing the Speaker had given him, but he still managed to take the glass. It was half automatic, but then his brain recognized and happily went water!, so Aoba took a long pull of it with obvious relief.

Then came Declan’s very last statement, to which Aoba was still able to be surprised, this time to the extent that he spluttered into his water and got a fair bit of it on his face. Coughing reflexively, Aoba wiped himself with his sleeve before once again turning wide eyes on his benefactor. This time, though, the look was more like awe.

This guy was so nice, he was unreal! Decker? No way! Those people in the bar were idiots and plainly knew nothing about him. The merchant, though, what had she called him?

Aoba’s brain-to-mouth filter promptly failed him as he murmured, “You really are an angel.”

Again color rose to Declan's cheeks, the burly man turning away to gaze out the windows, obviously uncomfortable with compliments; the sign of someone who rarely received them.

"I'm just doing what's right," he insisted, jaw muscles flexing briefly before he inhaled and stepped away, moving to the balcony windows. A touch to the glass and the panels whispered open, letting the cool air of the high skies rush into the flat and banish some of the stuffiness of the gray space.

"Ghost...would you order some more dishes?" he said, staring out at the city while he waited for the heat to leave his cheeks and ears. "Hopefully Eva can get them here before you finish cooking," he added, looking over his shoulder at Aoba.

"Of course. But I should mention that--" Ding dong. "--The first order is here."

Silver eyes flicked to the door before booted feet thudded across the floor. The door hissed open and one of the less human-looking robots stood holding several parcels.

"Delivery! Titan Declan?"

"Yes."

"Sign here please! Thank you! Have a nice day!" the robot chirped politely before hurrying off to it's next task. There was a large camo deployment bag, a rolled and tied set of blankets and pillows and a case of groceries, all of which Declan carried in without obvious effort and set on the couch.

Patting the bag roughly, Declan nodded in approval.

"There should be a full kit of basic gear in here, some plain clothes like underwear, shirts and pants, boots, and there will be a suit for if you go offworld. Miss Levante is very good about load outs. We'll worry about any other gear if you decide to travel. For now, between this and what we ordered from Everis you should be set up. And your food is here. Would you like to take a shower first?" he asked, tilting his head and reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. It was the first time he didn't deliberately hide behind the white curtain, the gesture completely unconscious.

Of course, Aoba couldn’t help but feel a little bad for embarrassing Declan again but—not to mention realizing that was a sort of weird thing to say out loud coming from him and not that merchant-lady, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around it. Then again, perhaps he was just overthinking on a bad first impression. Not of Declan himself, no, but letting those words from the people in the bar nag at him so.

Maybe it was more strange that such a nice guy as Declan hung out in a place like that to get such a ‘nickname’ in the first place? Hmm….

Ren wandered back at the same time as the delivery, the small space not taking long for even his tiny legs to explore. He settled near Aoba’s feet as the man himself stood carefully out of the way, backing up into the kitchen space until everything had been carried in.

Aoba didn’t realize how good the idea of a shower was until Declan voiced it. It wasn’t like he’d been forced to live in his own filth or anything and he wasn’t unclean, but he looked down at himself and the Deckers’ colors and logos across his attire, and was promptly ready to be rid of it.

“I would like that a lot, thanks,” he agreed, finishing what remained of his water before putting the glass down. He approached the couch then, bending to the bag to acquaint himself with its contents. Plain or otherwise didn’t even matter to him; he just wanted the stuff he was wearing off and in the trash!

The gear inside was all white and gray, though the boots were black leather. The space suit beneath everything else was in various shades of gray like all other things in Declan's home and life. They were thick fabrics as soft as cotton but obviously more durable. Comfortable and utilitarian. Military.

"The bathroom is right there. There should be hygiene products and other necessary things in the bag as well, like towels and body scrubs. She's very good about that, Miss Levante is. You go ahead and shower. I'll take one after you while you cook. Don't worry. I'll put the food in the fridge."

That said, Declan moved to fulfill the promise, picking up the food container and thudding quietly to the kitchen. He shifted slightly, his bulky, armored body not suitable for the small space, and eventually headed to the bedroom, pulling off the largest pieces of his gear to instead prowl around the home in just the padded under armor. Much easier to work in. Of course putting away the groceries didn't take long, which left the Guardian eventually just sitting on the couch and staring blankly at the television, which he didn't bother to turn on, too lost in his thoughts.

Aoba was no musclebound soldier and the bag was hefty, but he hauled it up and took the whole thing with him to the bathroom after another round of grateful thanks. Ren followed him at first, automatically and unthinking, but when Aoba realized his furry little partner had followed him into the bathroom, he recalled something and smiled with a sudden thought.

A minute later, Ren padded back out into the living area, Aoba shutting the door behind him before getting to that shower. The Allmate remained quiet and seated on the floor while Declan puttered about -- until finally, opportunity. While Declan sat there on the couch, almost statuesque, Ren padded over and sat in front of the Guardian's feet.

"Declan," he said, wagging his tail a little to counter the general lack of emotional inflection in his voice. "May I sit up there as well?"

The Guardian started, looking around briefly in confusion - it was going to take time to get used to people being in his home - before glancing down and nodding dumbly. Reaching down, he lifted the little dog up and set him on the couch, silver eyes fixed on the fluffy fur and tiny paws, mystified. Even Ren's dark eyes were curious to the Titan, and while he was careful not to touch (Ren was a person, after all) he couldn't help but stare in awe of the Allmate.

"Are all Allmates little canines?" he asked, shifting slightly on the couch to respectfully face the dog. Ghost floated over, hovering nearby, curious as well.

He got that ‘dog-lover’ look in his eyes when he saw you, Aoba had told Ren, as he prepared to shower. Go make a friend, okay?

So, after being lifted, Ren padded a little circle on the couch cushion before settling down next to Declan’s thigh. Even if he wasn’t a real dog, doglike mannerisms were still part of his programming. His dark eyes fixed on Declan’s own with bright intelligence nevertheless.

“No, they are not. Allmates come in many forms and functions, though animal varieties like myself are popular. For example, two of Aoba’s friends have a bird Allmate and an ermine Allmate respectively. His employer, however, has a robot designed for cleaning and trash disposal.”

Pausing briefly, Ren considered what Aoba had said, then added, “You may pet me if you like. I do not mind it.”

"What if I break you?" Declan asked with a small frown, looking down at his overlarge hands before holding them both up for inspection. Nevermind that he was as gentle and meek as a lamb. People said what they would and made his impression of himself less than positive. He didn't even touch real animals, though he did sometimes spend hours sitting in the courtyard watching the birds when he got tired of being a barfly.

"I don't want to hurt you. I'm not sure if anyone here would know how to repair you. I mean, the Exo's might, but there's a chance no one would. That would be awful."

“…”

Aoba would have been flabbergasted to hear such an overblown concern, and Ren was momentarily perplexed, himself.

“…I am not so fragile that I would break from ordinary petting, nor do I have the impression that you would deliberately try to damage me. However if you are truly that concerned, it is alright. I am simply making a standing offer.”

But Ren also didn’t want Aoba to be disappointed, so he calculated what he believed to be a compromise. Standing up, Ren moved closer to Declan and draped his little forepaws over the giant’s nearer thigh—and then settling there in a show of comfort, in case trying to vault into the Guardian’s lap would prove too unsettling.

“Also, for the record, Aoba does all my maintenance and repairs. Should you ever find me in a damaged state, just return me to him and he will take care of things.”

That was a little more reassuring, knowing that Aoba was able to make necessary repairs. He still thought he ought to have Ghost do a really in-depth scan, but for the time being it was enough to hear Ren tell him. After all, he trusted Exos and other constructed humans at their word, why not a tiny dog?

They sat like that for some time, Declan silent, feeling no weight at all on the sturdy tree-truck he called a leg as he stared off into space again, thoughts tumbling. The shower continued, the white-noise of the water oddly comforting, and he relaxed visibly with time. After a while he finally stopped clenching and unclenching his fist, reached over to remove his glove and carefully settled his marble white palm on the back onf Ren's shoulders, smoothing the fur back as gently as anyone could manage, let along a man his size.

He didn't think he'd ever felt anything quite so soft, particularly among synthetics. By the time Aoba returned, Declan was slumped back into the couch, carefully stroking Ren and staring at the ceiling.

And pleased Aoba was when he saw it, his smile lighting his whole face. He’d changed into the new clothes and, though they were monotone and militarian, he felt much better to be out of the Decker ensemble. The only splash of color was the fading gradient of his damp, towel-blotted hair. Freed from its ponytail, the longer portions hung most of the way down his back now.

Thanks, Ren, he mouthed when his little partner looked his way, while he himself continued on to the little kitchen space. His footsteps were soft, wearing socks but not the new boots, as old habits dictated.

“Aah, I needed that!” he announced for Declan’s benefit as he returned, the goal being obvious gratitude rather than obvious presence. “I’m going to get started on the cooking now, alright, Declan?”

Declan sat bolt upright the moment he heard Aoba, lifting his hand quickly in effort not to squash Ren. When there didn't seem to be any concern or disapproval he relaxed again, using one finger to scratch behind the dog's ear with a slight nod.

"As I said, make yourself at home, both of you. You don't need to appraise me of anything or ask my approval for anything aside from knocking down walls or something. Mostly because I don't know about the structural integrity of the rooms and wouldn't want something unfortunate to happen," he remarked, shrugging broad shoulders.

"Oh...I was thinking, mm. If you didn't want to work at one of the places in the Tower or couldn't find anything in the city, there's pretty good money in salvage from other planets. It's a little more dangerous, but since Guardians are usually on heavy patrol in the areas, you could probably make good money without too much risk. That is, if you need money. I'm still find with covering everything. I don't have anywhere to spend anything anyways." And no one to leave the money to if he died, but he wasn't about to make that gloomy announcement.

Aoba was already pulling open the little array of drawers and cabinets available, identifying what was where. Pot, pan, utensils…huh. Wow, no wonder Declan had told Ghost to order more dishes. There was only one set.

He got started setting things up, pulling out ingredients and hoping he could do this well enough from memory, but still turned and gave Declan another dry look.

“As generous as that is of you, I re-fuse to have you pay for everything like I’m some kind of—of kept man or something,” he hastily mumbled at the end, turning away with briefly reddening cheeks as he mentally kicked himself for only being able to come up with that of all things as a comparison. He focused his gaze intently on the potatoes he was chopping up after that.

“I can do work! I did deliveries and repairs and refurbishing in a junk shop back home…so, even if the technology around here is a lot more advanced than I’m used to, I’ll do everything I can to find some way to be useful to anyone that’ll take me.”

"What is a kept man?" Declan asked, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, unwilling to move Ren from his lap. It seemed rude to do so when the little thing seemed so content with his spot.

"I didn't say you couldn't work, only that you don't have to. I make so much money I don't know what to do with it. Mostly I just buy more gear or weapons, try them out and eventually toss them because they're not as good as my old stuff, anyways. Spending it on useful things for someone that needs it is a lot less wasteful, I think," the Guardian reasoned, shrugging slightly and turning back to face the quiet TV and blank wall spaces again. For how little TV he watched he would have been better served turning the couch to face the windows. He preferred watching outside anyways...maybe he would, later. But what if Aoba preferred TV? White brows furrowed along with his private thoughts, the Titan puzzling over sudden interest in his own environment that hadn't mattered at all before.

"Just let me know what you'd like to do and I'll talk to someone. Commander Zavala might know someone. Or Cayde or Miss Ikora."

Edited 2015-12-17 04:47 (UTC)

Well, Aoba might have verbally stumbled and called Declan an angel before, but that didn't mean he was about to roll over and let said Guardian angel completely take care of him. There was almost a sort of irony in that: Aoba had been forced to work for the Deckers, and here was a not-Decker telling him he didn't have to. Still, inclined to laziness though Aoba might have been, he wanted to earn his keep for as long as he was here.

But if Declan didn't know what a kept man was, Aoba didn't want to be the one to tell him! He didn't want Declan to think he'd had weird ideas about their arrangement or anything like that.

"Mm. I'll probably go talk to Tess once I've got my bearings a little better, since she offered. I wonder if I can get some maps on Ren somehow... he was always my navigator back home."

Ren, still content to be resting his chin on his paws while Declan petted him, spoke up. "I will continue to keep logging directions and locations manually, Aoba."

"Of course. Thanks, Ren, I know I can count on you no matter what."

Still puzzling over the kept man comment, Declan nodded slowly and returned to petting Ren fully with his bared hand. It was oddly soothing to do and he wondered if people had forgotten that animals were stress curatives. He also wondered about the fact that he was stressed and hadn't noticed. Then again, when you put your life on the line every time you went out, it was bound to be a little jarring.

"I can do that," Ghost offered, turning himself over and back, floating idly back and forth between the kitchen and living room to see what everyone was doing.

"I have all of the local maps, most maps of the scouted areas of earth, the Moon, Venus, Mars, Mercury and local space, as well as the Reef. If you like, I am happy to share these with you," Ghost intoned, hovering before Ren and blinking owlishly.

"I also have historical documents, current events, personal profiles of people you are likely to encounter. I can update you so you are a functioning modern unit."

Edited 2015-12-17 22:47 (UTC)

Ren pricked his ears forward, warily intrigued, while Aoba craned his neck around immediately. His kneejerk reaction was admittedly on the defensive side, set off by the thought of someone other than himself making adjustments to Ren’s functions, but dampened by the awareness that at least portions of that would be useful.

“Wait, are you sure? I mean, can you really do that?” Aoba asked, pausing his food prep in order to better focus. “I don’t…even know if Ren has enough memory for that much. And what about reverse compatibility? We’re from…I don’t even know, compared to here.”

What if Ren was the equivalent of a floppy disk drive compared to blue-rays here in the future, or worse? What if he was ENIAC compared to the tech of Declan’s day and age??

"If you want a space upgrade we can acquire one," Ghost replied, hovering next to Ren and addressing him because the construct didn't understand that Aoba was the one that made the choices. In Declan and Ghost's world, artificial intelligences were recognized as human and made their own choices in regards to everything to do with themselves. The idea of someone else treating them as lower functioning or of lesser right in some way wasn't just insulting, it was unlawful. Not that Aoba and Ren were going to be judged for anything by present company, they just weren't accustomed to hearing and acting in such a manner.

"The Exos are human in every way but the strictly biological sense and have very complex computerized parts that function like human brains. Exo scientists are very good at making compatible upgrades for other artificial intelligence. If space is a concern, they can offer you something. Meanwhile, I don't think maps should take up too much room. I can alter the size and quality to conserve space usage."

There were parallels between them, but Aoba and Ren and Declan and Ghost were still worlds apart in many ways.

An Allmate-to-Allmate transmission (as Aoba viewed it) wasn’t too bad. Really, Aoba’s only true concern there was the vast difference in hardware. Ren was already an old model compared to modern Allmates back home. Comparing him to a construct like Ghost seemed…possibly even implausible.

The suggestion that someone other than Aoba could make modifications to Ren, though? Aoba turned away from the little kitchen counter completely, making a discontent noise of protest.

“If Ren really needed some kind of upgrade, I’d do it myself…but I suppose there’s no harm in seeing if the maps can transfer. They would be useful.”

Ren, attentive to his master, wagged his tail briefly. “The likelihood of me being damaged by any data files from Ghost is very slim. Most likely any incompatibilities would simply result in me being unable to read the information rather than being harmed by it. I do not mind it, Aoba. I’m certain you could fix me if anything did go wrong.”

Aoba thought as much as well—at least regarding the likelihood that maps might hurt Ren somehow. It wasn’t like Ghost was going to hit him with a virus or a worm, right? In his own Midorijima-era manner of thinking, Aoba saw Ghost as an extension of Declan and therefore had no reason to mistrust the little construct.

“Maps would be useful,” Aoba said, repeating himself but also reassuring himself. “Alright, no harm in trying. Go ahead.”

"It wasn't my intention to insult you," Ghost remarked, floating away from Ren slowly and glancing towards Aoba. Declan didn't say anything, letting the two speak at their leisure.

"I didn't mean for them to upgrade him, either. You are obviously his closest companion in much the way Declan and I are connected. Declan is the only one who changes my shell, for instance. I merely meant that the Exos would be able to design something compatible for you to use."

"But for now, maps are quite enough and useful as well. If you change your mind about anything, please let me know. I believe Lakshmi-2 would be inclined to assist. She's very concerned about the future, after all."

"That's an understatement," Declan sighed, patting Ren gently before moving his hand away to give Ghost and Ren space. Ghost floated down and cast his scan over the dog. Just like that, the information was wirelessly transferred, effortless for the orb, though it might take longer for Ren to process all of the maps.

"There you go," Ghost chimed, floating off to stare out the window at the Traveler, done attempting to put a foot he didn't have in a mouth he was equally devoid of.

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