Chapter 1: A Crownless King
Chapter Text
Gloved fingers gently flipped a gold obol, the dull sheen reflecting hues of dim light. The coin had been fashioned into an earring, with a small L carved into the back. Holding the metal to the light and swiping a thumb over it, the Drifter looked into the reflection to watch as a figure approached, hearing the clinks of swordsteel on tile.
“Marty.”
Drifter dropped their hand, fastening the obol back on their ear as the Excalibur protoframe, now known to them as Arthur, came into their peripherals. They leaned back, twisting their head to look at the man.
“Arthur.”
Their voice was a bit hoarse, benefits of screaming at the indifference and getting shot in the chest point blank by a Lex prime. How did Entrati even have a Lex prime?? Whatever. It wasn’t important now.
“We… Got off on the wrong foot. But don’t think I'm going to be soft on you.” Arthur crossed his arms, looking down at the… surprisingly elegantly dressed time traveller. To an extent. A cape? Really?
Drifter now spun fully around in their seat, leaned against the side of the chair. The food court was desolate, only the whistle of snowy wind through the broken skylight, the faint beeping of the arcade, and hum of the generator saving them from silence. “I don’t want you to be.” They snapped, with some venom. They didn’t need to be pitied.
Arthur put his hands up a bit, raising a brow. “Noted.” He sighed, placing a hand on his hip as the other combed out the knots in his bangs idly. “Speaking of notes, you have that weird mystery room now. All yours.”
Drifter nodded a bit, starting to stand, pushing their cape behind them and dusting off. It was unnecessary flashy parts, but when their twin found out they liked the cape their chosen warframe had, the “Broca Prominence Syandana” apparently, they rushed to make a version for them. It was kind of sweet, even when the kid and them didn’t always get along.
“Uh.. Also. Keep that cat out of my stuff, and don’t let it eat Letties rats. She wouldn’t appreciate it.” Arthur let out a huff, in almost amusement. Kalymos was cute to a degree but the last thing the Hex needed was a pissed off medic. “I’ll ask Amir to set you up with the tech in that room.”
Ah yes, the Volt. Drifter was almost sad for him, such an energetic man with his life thrown off the rails by some prophet time traveller offering salvation. They tried to ignore how that statement mirrored the situation they had gotten into a little too well. “Understood. And…”
They paused, straightening up, drawing in a breath as they took off the strange glass mask they wore, lips visible. “I’m sorry for jumping into your head like that. Couldn’t think of a better way to convey that information, but it was probably a lot to process.” It was sincere. All the frames they transferred into before had at least some open space for their wild storm of a mind.
Arthur just nodded, turning heel and walking off, back to that security office, leaving Drifter to stand in the cold, dim mall alone. That went well, huh, Drifter?
They spent a while watching the snow drift through the shattered glass, gently landing on their shoulders. Maybe they would fix that. The tarp that had been put up there was gently flapping in the breeze, come loose and cracking from the elements. After about 30 minutes or so, they decided to retire to their new quarters, taking the steps two at a time, ducking into the dark store and through the back hall. The chime of metal obols suspended in the void bumping into one another greeted them, along with those faint whispers, chanting “ MARA LOHK, MARA LOHK ” on loop.
The void door swirled around Drifter as they stepped through, a familiar chill seeping into their soul as they passed through, fading in an instant. Let’s take inventory.
Left to right was their bike, in a shiny gold contraption. How was that there? No matter. Clothing rack, the surveillance wall, wait, is that?
They whipped the cape off as they walked, tossing it onto the ornate wooden table covered in random tech. Poking a few buttons on the machines in the corner resulted in a hologram screen popping up, with rows and rows of mods. Their twin’s mods, mostly.
How..?
They couldn’t ponder long, as bumping into the little black box created static, with Nora Nightwave’s voice cutting through the silence, waking up Kalymos, who had stashed herself under a couch. It was nice hearing something familiar for once. They flipped up the volume, after some fiddling.
"Hey there, Dreamers. You hearin' me? I know you are. No need to say anythin'. A hand in yours, a voice for the speechless, a bedtime story for the sleepless.”
Drifter switched it off before she could finish. Some things could be left for later. Moving on, they looked at the big gold and black ornate structure in the wall. After a bit of prodding and shuffling of metal, it turned out to be an arsenal. Swiping through the hologram, they tapped a little icon. With a whoosh of metal, their ornate gilded Zephyr appeared, holding the weapons last used. A rush of warmth filled them, looking at the bird-like frame.
“Hello girlie, I missed you…” They muttered softly, smoothing leather bound hands over the gold and black metal, dusting off the already polished frame. Other Tenno didn’t talk to their frames, or care for them like this. No matter how many times their twin,
Wrynn
, they remembered, teased them, Drifter could never bring themselves to stop whispering to the unmoving metal masses. Zephyr was like a second skin, a loved one. She was the one offered by Teshin and Lotus to help them out of Duviri, light as the wind, commanding the skies. Free. Everything Drifter wasn’t.
A nudge to their thigh broke them out of thought.
“Hey Kalymos. Smart girl.” They smirked, just a bit, crouching down to give the kavat some scratches behind the ear. Behind her was what looked like the foundry. That was an easy spot. On the table, what looked like a void relic station, and on the other end a large screen with wares sold on it. Tenno marketplace, probably, they didn’t really listen to Ordis as he explained it. Ordis. It was a sorrowful thought train, on how much they realized they missed that cephalon. Incubator, companion segment, another couch, papers scattered on the cushions. Papers everywhere, really. How messy could Entrati get without Loid around? Jeez.
Standing up and taking the stairs, they were greeted by… More couches. Why. Five couches now, to their count. Boots thudded faintly against the wood as they looked in the mirror in the corner. It was dark out now, but the white glow of those void tainted eyes reflected back at them. Swirling silver crept out of their suit’s neckline, a sharp contrast to paper pale skin. Deep tear scars reached from under their eyes to their chin, paths worn through years and years of silent sobs. The whisper of void-tongue floated up the stairs as someone passed through the veil, causing Drifter to startle.
“Hey hey Marty! You there? Man it its daaaaark in here, are there even lights? Ohmyluaarethosechandilers- NEVERMIND anyway-”
Speedy rambles echoed through the room as Amir poked around, flashes of light flickering up onto the balcony.
“Up here.” Drifter said loudly, still in that ever flat tone. They sighed, fiddling with the obol earring as the hyper man dashed up the stairs, almost tripping over a couch. “And be care-! Ful. Be careful of the couches.” They groaned out as Amir flailed.
“Aaaaaanddddd~ Tada! Now, you put in your username! Make something fun!”
Drifter quirked a brow, leaning over from the armchair they had settled on while the “IT Guy”, whatever that meant, worked his magic. “Alright.. If you say so.”
Getting up and leaning over Amir’s shoulder - ohsweetluatheyaresoclosetoyounopedontthinkaboutthat- They typed in a short username.
—------------
ENNTER USERMANE:
Lone_Ryder |
—------------
“There. Does that work? Entrati left a book here, ‘KOL for dummies’ I think?” Drifter leaned back after tapping on the little icon prompt and picking a picture of an Atomocycle.
“Yeah! Though… What does it mean? Sorry if I’m poking too much, I’m a little curious.” Amir leaned back, looking up at the white haired man. Man, they were tall.
Drifter cringed a little, running a hand over the back of their neck. “Uhh… It’s kind of related to my name? Drifter? I guess.”
Amir raised his eyebrows, realizing he probably touched a sensitive topic. “Oh, sorry- I didn’t mean to- I mean I-”
“It’s fine.” Cut in Drifter, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll know if I’m upset.”
Cryptic much? “Ooooookaaayyy… not ominous at all…” Amir chuckled nervously. “ANYWAY there you are uhh yourallsetupigottagodosomethinggoodnightmartybyeseeyou-” And with that he was off. Great job, Drifter, now you made two people run off. Only four left to get to hate you too.
They glanced at the little calendar on the bottom of the Pom-2, reading the script. Good thing they studied ancient languages as a kid.
January 1st, 1999
It was going to be a long year, huh.
Chapter 2: Clad in Gold
Summary:
Drifter finally cleans their shit simulator 9000
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Even though Entrati decided that couches were the best decor in the world, he managed to find the most rock hard, uncomfortable and lumpy ones in the entire origin system.
Drifter had sat for around five or so hours on this shameful excuse for a lounge chair, not a hint of rest in sight. Sunlight weakly strained through the grimy windows, making all the metal in the room glow with a dreamy halo. Maybe instead of chasing sleep endlessly in the dark they could do something productive for once.
Trotting down the metal stairs, they glared at the pile of random boxes and trash scattered around the lower floors. Crouching down, they picked up a page. It was filled from top to bottom in messy Orokin script, obviously rushed. Gathering up more pages, they all followed that same template of mad ramblings. Maybe this would be useful eventually. Some of the pages were decayed beyond repair, water damage and time showing its signature mark.
All the salvaged papers got tucked into an empty cardboard box, and slid next to the surveillance setup. They still hadn’t asked the Mag, Aoi, about the stromachord upstairs or how to work it so the silence had been deafening, yet they couldn’t bring themself to turn on the little radio box and hear Nora. Yes, she was a familiar comfort, and maybe they would see what was going on in the origin system, but the memory of the metallic taste of blood still lingered, hearing her praise this mysterious drifter for killing gods. It was bittersweet.
They turned their attention to the companion segment. While Wrynn kept mainly sentinels and other robotic pets, not trusting themself to keep an animal alive in battle, Drifter preferred the soft company of a fluffy animal. Or in the case of their other two companions, wormy company. After a bit of poking and prodding, a cacophony of noises signaled the appearance of two Helminth Chargers and a Kubrow.
“Oh, I’ve missed you silly guys!” They squealed, squatting down as three big dogs came barreling at them. The largest of the lot was Noctis, a black and blue colored charger, gentle and kind. Next was Atlas, a fluffball of energy, black with stripes of brown. And the smallest (but still fairly large) was Solstice, a bright yellow and white, with a sunny personality to match.
Kalymos let out a disgruntled meow in protest at the three loud new additions.
Drifter pushed the tangled mass of joy off them, standing up and poking another few buttons, only Noctis remaining now. “Sorry, Kaly.” They said with a small chuckle.
Returning to the boxes, satisfied with more company, they finished sorting through the mess under the stairs. Most of the contents were random trash, which was condensed and tossed into the bins that lived there. One of the boxes held at least 200 obols, which made a horrible noise as they hauled it next to the foundry. Once most everything was cleared, they stood back and assessed the room. The sun was fully up now, and yet they hadn’t checked the time. Grabbing the glove they had shed when trying to fiddle with the displays, they headed up the stairs and went to check the Pom-2, surprised to see some messages.
—---------------
xX GLIMMER Xx
heyyy drifterrr ca…
_____
Broadsword
You. I need to tal….
_____
Salem
Do you mind if I…
____
—--------------
They didn't bother looking at the rest, clicking on the top one. Amir had left a note of who was who, so this was Aoi.
—--------------
xX GLIMMER Xx
heyyy drifterrr can u come down to the music shop if u have a sec?? i wanna give u something hehe ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )
Lone_Ryder
Oh, sure. I have time. What are those little symbols?
xX GLIMMER Xx
GASPPP u dont know emoticons???? they r silly little ways to show ur emotion!! ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜
Lone_Ryder
Let me see.
Lone_Ryder
(._.)
Lone_Ryder
/ᐠ - ˕ -マ kavat.
xX GLIMMER Xx
heyyyy u got the hang of it!! also wuts a kavat (｡· v ·｡) ?
Lone_Ryder
Think… Kalymos. Big animal. I think you call them cats? Anyway. I’ll be there in a bit.
Lone_Ryder is offline
—----------------
Drifter closed the KIM messenger, deciding to respond to the others later. Finally checking the time, it was about 6:00 A.M. Enough time to see what Aoi needed and maybe not get their ass beat by Arthur by not responding.
Grabbing their gear off the side table, they slid on the cape, glove, glass mask and helmet, earpiece and boots before stepping through the void portal, freezing whispers dancing around their ears. Chants of a name long forgotten in a tongue they didn't want to learn.
Going down the stairs two at a time, they headed to the music shop, hearing the warping and clinking of metal being tossed around.
"Heyyyy drifter! That was quick!" Aoi waved at them cheerfully. Drifter couldn't help but see that flash of her, dead on the floor of the reactor room, skull popped from the inside out. It gave them more of a reason to protect the Hex.
"Hey Aoi. I was up anyway. You said you had something for me?" Thinking about it, why would she give anything to them? It's not like they've done anything but cause more misery so far.
Aoi jumped off her perch on the counter and scrambled around, gathering up some CDs of various kinds. They watched with a raised brow as the woman joyfully held out a box with at least twenty discs. "I spotted that radio thing in the backroom, and I don't know if they have music in the future or not but it must get so quiet in there. Mind as well find your fire."
Drifter looked down at the box in surprised as they gingerly took it from her clawed hands. "Oh, uh, thank you? This is very kind, uh thanks, a lot. Also yeah, we do have music. It's pretty important to me... but I'll go through these and tell you what I like. Again, thank you, Aoi." Their tone was softer, almost kind. Music was very important to them, so this was a very kind gesture.
"I'm glad! Anything you don't like, send it over and I'll trade it out. Oh! Arthur was complaining about needing to see you, but he also wants you out in the field today to test your capability while we clean up. He reaaallyyy needs to chill out but whatevs." She rolled her eyes, pouting slightly.
They nodded, taking the box and void slinging back up the stairs, wanting to get the music safe quickly.
Notes:
Pretty short chapter, might add more later lolz
Chapter 3: Flare of feathers
Summary:
they really don't know how to people, huh.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Wind whistled around metallic feathers, the ground far below. Streets were a hazy blur below, a map of lives unknown, a complex interweaving, living thing. The sky had gaped open, covering Höllvania in a beam of light, a welcome break from the deep snow that had coated the city in shimmering white. Snow was a weird thing, Drifter thought, looking down a scope at a scaldra below. Venus had snow but not as fluffy and pure as this snow. They took the shot, a burst of bright green and red exploding out. It didn’t even smell like coolant! Instead it smelled… crisp. Aim again. Maybe they could look it up, now that Amir set up that computer. Another shot rang out. Hopefully the internet still worked in a lockdown. A burst of air forward, check the map, another burst, rinse and repeat. They checked the messenger bag slung around Zephyr’s body, still all there.
Arthur was eager to get them out to test their abilities, and Quincy took advantage of that to send them to deliver a care package. Quincy… What an odd one. He was short with them, but also strangely charismatic? Not to mention his batch, they had heard Wrynn talk about myths of a secret Orokin sniper warframe but seeing a Cyte-09? That was a different thing. Twirling in the wind, they finally felt free. Zephyr was the very first frame offered to them, a way to break out of that spiral, a way to be free. She was the wind, the sky, commanding the air to her liking. She was a cool comfort, being able to detach from the world below. It felt different than piloting a railjack or flying on an archwing, more in control.
Checking the scope again, looks like they picked off every scaldra in their path. They were near the edge of Höllvania, hovering over a pretty rubbled residential area. House with a red roof…red roof… blue roof… there. Distinct enough for helpers, blended in enough for scaldra. Drifter let themselves slowly float down, gently landing on a railing, Zephyr’s talons wrapping around the bar on instinct. They bounced down, and knocked a pattern on the door. It only occurred to them now that maybe waiting at the door in a suit of infested metal shaped like a bird, with black and gold decorations was not the smartest idea. The door cracked open as a young tween peered through the crack, eyes widening as he quickly shut the door. They could hear rapid footsteps and muffled talking before the door opened again, this time a tall, broad man.
Drifter held up the bag, cocking their head curiously. Hopefully the man would understand, and they didn't have to pop out and make themselves squishy and vulnerable.
“You a new part of the Hex? Don’t look too far off. Suppose this is from Q. Sorry for that before, kid is a bit nervous, for good reason.” The man took the bag, rifling through the contents and smiling to himself. “Tell him I said thanks. And that I’ll make good on those clothes.”
They nodded vigorously, dipping a few times in a fast bow. The man let out a hearty laugh. “I’m not going to bite, don’t worry. Alright, be on your way. Good travels!” The door clicked shut, and they were left alone again, yet they didn’t mind much. Crouching down, they launched off, bounding up the side of a building, bursting into the sky again. After a few surges, they dropped lower to not get cloud to the face. Frozen feathers were an annoyance.
Below, a shrill mechanical screech cut through the air.
Diving down to investigate the noise, they found that there was a sprout of techrot ripping through the ground near an abandoned bus stop. At least that's what the sign read. Drawing their Tonbo, they debated heading back to the mall quickly to let the others know, as Amir hadn’t made a com for him yet, the last one being blown to bits in the void. Something something about being shot, it didn’t matter now. Eh, this is small. If it gets worse I’ll dash over. No problems.
Spinning the polearm, they slashed through infected wires smoothly. Every move was a graceful dance, the flashing gold decor on the handle glimmering in the sun. This was manageable.
It was not manageable, actually.
After about half an hour of mowing through the rot, the floor caved in, dropping them into another mall, this one completely packed with techrot. All of them slowly turned to the gilded Zephyr. Shit. Shitshitshit. That is NOT good.
Sheathing the polearm, they blasted through the hole they had just entered from, speeding away as fast as possible, up the hill to the central mall. He flew through the garage, only to misjudge the distance and slam full force into the sliding glass doors faster than they could open. Thankfully the doors somehow didn't shatter, but the force of the impact rattled the frame, making dust rain from the ceiling as the poor metal bird slid down the glass with a sad squeak.
The doors slid open with a groan, leaving Drifter to lay there for a moment, trying to shrug off the ringing pain from the sudden end of movement. It was about time the laws of physics bite their ass again. Slowly peeling themselves off the concrete, they saw most of the Hex rush over to check out what the FUCK had rattled the entire mall.
A chorus of “Drifter!” “Marty!” “Babas!” and “Future!” overlapped as they were surrounded by mildly concerned protoframes.
“Babas, what the fuck was that?” Lettie crouched down, stern face level with their beak. Meanwhile, Amir looked like he was about to explode, hopping one foot from the other, coated in sparks. Why were they this worried? It’s not like they were anyone special. The protoframes barely knew them.
Drifter popped out of Zephyr with a bit of force, landing on one knee, huffing for breath. “I- huff - I’m- Fine.” They blew out a long breath, shaking their hair out. “I’m fine, just forgot about gravity for a bit. Delivery was successful, the man said thanks and that he’ll make good on the clothes, and-” Another deep breath. Slow down. “Most important thing, I spotted some techrot, thought I could mow down the few there, but the floor had to cave in so now there is an entire mall’s worth of computers that want my head on a stick. Oh, and some of those big bug looking things. About… Three? I could probably handle it myself but I thought you may want to know…” They trailed off, looking up at very, very concerned faces now. "And I see that may have been a bother now." Oh, void.
Well that’s not a good reaction .
“Sorry about the door?” They gave as a last saving attempt, getting up fully and straightening their cape.
“I’m not worried about the damn door, why didn’t you tell us first thing? I didn’t tell you to wander your ass off, I was about to send Amir to make sure you weren’t shot down or something!” Arthur was almost seething, voice loud. Drifter eyed Zephyr, still idly kneeling on the floor, wondering just how fast she could get them out of this. The man groaned, pinching his nose. “Let’s deal with this shit first, before it gets out of hand. I want to talk with you later.”
Drifter nodded, but interjected. “I can handle it myself, you guys have work to do. I just wanted to tell you. I don’t want to drag you away from your duties. Give me a few hours.” They transferred into Zephyr and walked through the door this time before blasting off before Arthur or the others could protest.
Eleanor sauntered over to Arthur, placing a hand on his shoulder, offering a bare condolence. “They can handle themselves, I don’t doubt that. But before you holler, maybe think on why they run off solo.” Those glowing purple eyes bored a hole into his skull.
“One chance. They have two hours before we go out and scrape them up. I can't believe I’m letting them do this.” The last part was a grumble, barely audible.
I can’t believe he let me do that!
The thought echoed around Drifter’s skull as they blasted out another tornado, watching it join the others in wandering around and sucking up any poor techrot that got in its path. It was an hour or so later, and about half the clear was done. They had blended up about two hundred or so techrot, moving quickly through the slimy walls. It was a short interaction, but it still lingered in their mind.
They were concerned. Angry later, but… They couldn’t wrap their head around it. It had only been a day or so into the loop, barely 48 hours since they watched everyone die, unable to scream loud enough for anyone to hear. 48 hours since they betrayed Entrati, and cast the Hex into another hellish time loop. They had done nothing but cause pain, extend the suffering for everyone in a feeble attempt to be a hero. Void knows how that ended last time. They were the tape to slap over a crack, the wrench to be thrown into gears, the little doll soldier that was called a dreamer, a champion, a royal knight, sweet nothing words. And when they didn’t have a problem to fix, they fell idle. Yet… The Hex hadn’t thrown him at anything yet. They didn't command him around, other than asking him to do simple tasks and errands. It was a very foreign feeling.
Although, now that they had directly disobeyed Arthur, he may want to punish them. Nothing new there. You fall short, you get the consequences in the teeth. They could always rewind, rethink, relive. Death was nothing more than an inconvenience.
Spacing back in, they were level eyed with what they had heard dubbed a “Babau.” The creature roared, flailing those tendrils at them. They blinked in transference a few times, reality crashing back as they realized they were in the range of a probably painful hit. Dashing back, they grabbed the Grimoire at their hip, throwing a few pages at the creature. The energy ripped through infested flesh as the thing screeched. A couple big hits later, the babau folded, collapsing to the ground. They snapped the book shut, holstering it again. Blasting out some last tornadoes, just to be sure, they bounded back though the mall, and out through the hole in the road.
They were completely soaked in techrot blood, what was black and gold was now green and purple goo. Drifter mentally apologized to Zephyr for the mess, floating through the air, less rushed now. They gently landed in the garage, leaving footprints of gore. Aoi was waiting there, working on her bike. She glanced up once, then again, eyes widening.
“Sol, drifter, what happened? You are absolutely coated!” She stood up, jogging to the hose by the sliding door. “Here, let me hose you down. Lettie would kill me if I let you tail in all of… that.” She laughed, bubbly but a little concerned. They nodded, hesitating slightly before shedding their weapons and standing with their arms open. The blast of cold water was surprisingly nice, smoothing Zephyr’s metal feathers, most of the blood coming off easily. If they could let out a sigh they would.
“Arthur was worried about you. All of us were.” Aoi started slowly, walking around them, making sure to get as much off as she could. Her cheery demeanor faded into something more serious. “We are a team you know, you don't just run off on your own. Okay? I’m not going to yell at you or be mad or anything like that, that’s not my flow but I will say that sometimes you’ll need help, and I know I’ll be happy to help, at least. We care.”
Drifter tilted their head as if to say, “Why?” This was out of the blue.
“I’m going to assume that's you being confused, hehe.” She giggled, blue eyes soft. “Why wouldn’t we? I know everyone is still pretty wary, I mean I am too but likee… you are still a person yanno? Annnnd you basically saved us from dying HORRIBLY so- I think I got most of it off. Go see Arthur ok? I told him not to be too mad at you.” She turned off the water and laughed as Drifter shook off like a kubrow. She thought of them like a person?
They shed Zephyr at the arsenal, gently tucking her away after scrubbing away the leftover grime. Slugging upstairs and staring in the mirror, they fixed their hair and mask, trying to look like they didn’t just spend three hours beating techrot ass.
Well time to face Arthur and try not to get their ass beat too badly. Maybe he wouldn't kill them. Maybe he would. Who knows.
Notes:
I may re-write some of this, as im not a fan of the current pace but hey
also guess what happens when you put two emotionally constipated men in a room
Chapter 4: Static
Summary:
drifter realizes that maybe fumbling once didnt mean a blade to the neck
Chapter Text
Even though it was barely noon, the mall felt so empty. After Drifter’s barely lidded freak-out, Quincy and Amir were out to salvage what they could and deal with civilians, Elenor was back to stewing in the dark on her couch, and Lettie was still trying to organize her stock.
Noctis had insisted on coming with them to meet with Arthur, complaining in grumbles and whines. So now the scrabbling of paws followed heavy footsteps down the stairs and around the corner where Arthur was waiting, leaned against the counter, spinning his sword. A final clinking spin, and he tossed the skana up and caught it, flipping it over his back and hostering it.
“Marty. I wa- Hold on. What is that?” Arthur dropped the scathing tone for a confused one, watching Noctis warily as the charger trotted up to sniff his leg. Drifter chuckled.
“That’s my companion. His name is Noctis.” They crouched down, patting their knees as Noctis turned around and happily bouncing back to them to get scratches.
“That’s one fucked up dog. I don’t want it causing trouble.” He watched Noctis playfully wrestle with Drifter’s sleeve, toppling them. While they didn’t laugh outright, their chest silently bounced like they were miming a laugh. Odd.
“Hand on heart, he’s trained well. Still thinks he’s the same size as his brother.” They stood up, brushing off and shooing away Noctis to go explore while they talked. “You needed to talk to me, yes?”
Arthur shook his head and sighed. “Yes, I did. What happened earlier completely disobeyed orders and cannot happen again if we’re to trust you. You understand what I’m saying?”
Drifter’s posture had straightened, at attention with a distant look in their eye. “I do. And I understand the consequences and will accept them.” They bowed their head slightly forward, and tucked their hands behind their back, completely at Arthur’s mercy.
“The hell are you doing?” He snapped, more with confusion than anger.
“You said… I thought?” They looked up, genuinely lost.
“I’m not going to- No! What?!” Arthur stepped forward, grabbing their shoulders and shaking them a bit. “I don’t know what fucked up future you come from but I’m not going to kill you for some mishap!” His voice rose, brows furrowed. “Belive it or not I don’t want to see you dead.”
Drifter had instantly stiffened under his hands, mind blanking in muted panic. They nodded firmly, yanking themselves out of Arthur’s touch, taking a few paces back. Noted. Don’t die in front of him.
“What I was going to say was that from now on, you have one of us with you every time you even think about stepping foot out of that garage. Yeah?”
“Yes. Got it. Sorry.” They turned heel and whistled sharply, the worm dog that had been digging in the arcade coming running, ears drooping at their expression. “I’m okay, little one, no need to worry.” They murmured to Noctis.
Eleanor, for all that the others tiptoed around her right now, was very ready to move. No matter how tempting falling into the depths of the minds around her was, things needed done. Yet, she could spare a moment to figure out who that dark, buzzing cloud of a mind belonged to. She had tried to prod before, but there was a very intentional veil over anything she could reach. It was most likely Drifter’s, but you could never be too sure with all the rot around. Reaching her mental hands in again, that static feeling was like a train spike to the brain, leaving her recoiling. Whoever it was very much did not want anyone in there.
On the other side of the mall, investigating a broken glass window, Drifter felt something tug on their mind, but instantly retreated. It was a jarring feeling. Eleanor. They kept a tight lock on their mind, trying to keep those nightmares that plagued them leeching into the daylight. While they would love to share with her, the spinning, sharp void metal that made up their blood also made up their fears. When that blood spills, they will. And they are going to make damn sure that doesn’t happen. Yet, they didn’t want to be hostile to the local telepath and self proclaimed monster of the group, at least not on purpose. “You can hear me, yes?” They mused, trying to think at her.
“I can, dear. Your mind is very loud.” Her voice floated into their mind as they slowly picked across the mall, eyes lingering on every object, filing them away to ask about later. “Sorry.”
“It’s no matter. Would you like to have a brood with the beast? I won’t bite. Maybe. I can’t promise.” They could almost feel her sly grin through the air.
“If you’ll have me.”
The furniture store was dark, a reprieve from the spotlights and broken neon bars. Noctis explored around, finding a balloon to chase around. Eleanor was draped over her couch, but sat up enough to curl her legs to the side. “Sit.” Drifter awkwardly sat, stiff and upright, pressed away from her to give the woman room. “Oh, relax, this isn’t tea time. We have a moment.”
They shuffled down further, leaning back a bit, gloved hands tucked in their lap after tugging off the glass mask and setting it by their feet. It was a gesture of trust, and they hoped they conveyed that.
“Your mind has been a beehive of darkness I can’t even begin to understand, but it just got gloomier about two hours ago. I assume my dearest brother used his… Interesting tactics on you?” Eleanor lounged back further, raising a brow at the man across from her who was trying to actively shrink themselves into the cushions.
“Actually, it was my fault. And I think I made him even angrier?” Drifter reflected back on the scuffle, almost projecting it like a hologram for Eleanor, at the very front of their mind. She didn’t need to look any further.
“Dearest drifter, I would like to inform you that in the glorious year of 1999, people don’t go around executing others for simple mistakes. I have a small grasp on what you have gone through, but do not expect us to shoot you for tripping over your own shoes.”
Drifter sat, almost stunned at those words. He looked down at his gloves, picking at the loose threads. “Oh.”
Oh. Oh void. Oh sweet Lua and Sol above.
The sentiment was echoed by Eleanor with a snicker.
Chapter 5: Fangs and Fears
Summary:
Drifter likes to keep a 10 foot pole in their pocket to slowly, cartoonishly push people away (physically) ((ew people amirite))
Notes:
Sorry if there is gaps in the formatting, its fighting me TvT
Chapter Text
Even after a few weeks, Drifter hadn’t interacted with Lettie much. They were opening up to Eleanor just a little bit more, telling the goth about the life on the planets in the origin system. Aoi had forced him to be social by leveraging his music loving soul and chatting over new CD’s and the sparse recordings he had managed to take with him. Amir was eager to drag them out of the backroom, showing them the Caliber Chicks console with enthusiasm. He was less thrilled to find that they were surprisingly good at it, getting second place on the scoreboard after completely focusing on the little screen and tuning out everything else. Quincy and Drifter were curt with each other, Quincy occasionally throwing a flirty comment their way, which usually bounced right off them to his dismay. It was like trying to sexy talk a brick wall. But the other Hex had occasionally seen both the men sitting at a table in the food court, silently servicing weapons.
They had mostly talked to Arthur over KIM, conversations short. After the revelation that he wasn’t going to decapitate them for frolicing off, it had been a bit awkward between the two.
They spent most of their time not spent out for hours on runs cooped up in the backroom, working through what was left of Entrati’s logs. They had been going out with another Hex member as Arthur instructed, but they usually came back alone, the protoframes tapping out after seven or eight hours. Instead, Drifter kept going until they were on bare fumes, slinking back into the mall after twelve or more hours of straight work, careful not to disturb the others. As soon as they would tuck whatever frame that day called for away, to the computer downstairs it was to pour over messy working script and long monologues they had heard over and over again. Sleep only caught them a few days, face down on a stack of paper, Noctis at their feet. It never lasted long though, that coiling, wicked silver spreading its corrupted fractals over their dreams.
Chewing on a small chunk of a nutrient block they had slivered off, they mused over another stack of paper. Wrynn had shoved a medium bag full of the little cubes into their arms before they went off, and Drifter was trying to conserve as much of it as they could, only eating a palms worth when needed. Aoi and Amir had invited them to eat together before, but they had always deflected the conversation, slinking back into the dark clothing store. So they were very surprised to hear the POM-2 go off upstairs.
Groaning, they stood up, back popping uncomfortably. Noctis grumbled, instead curling up next to Kalymos on a lounge chair, the kavat glaring at him. The two had been getting along better but kavats and kubrows will always be at odds. Slugging up the metal stairs and past the gurgling helminth room (It had tried to talk to them many times before but they never paid too much attention other than throwing junk at it), they plopped down on the stool that had been dragged up. Squinting at the screen they were shocked to see that Lettie had messaged.
------------
Belladonna~{@
Ay, babas.
------------
They clicked on the message, grabbing their old shawl and pulling it on. Aoi still hadn’t gotten a chance to fix the vents.
-----------
Belladonna~{@
Ay, babas.
You still have to eat, sí?
Lone_Ryder
I do. Why do you ask?
Belladonna~{@
I ask because I have never seen our resident melancolía eat
Plus Arthurs on my ass about it jaja
Lone_Ryder is typing…
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Drifter sat typing for a moment, debating, deleting, typing…
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Lone_Ryder
I have some nutrients back here. I do not want to deplete your resources.
Belladonna~{@
Kick me for being concerned
But you look like shit
I know you are a fantasma but you are still human as I can tell
Lone_Ryder
Thanks, I guess?
Belladonna~{@
Actually, when you are not being cooped up in that box of a room
Come see me
Belladonna~{@ is offline
-----------
They were confused. Why would Arthur ask Lettie about them eating? She was a medic but it’s not like they were going to die. So many more important things.
-------------------------
Drifter was stripped of all the fancy parts of their gear, now just in their rags of gear they made in Duviri, washed out black with deep green accents. It was warm and familiar. Even though they loved the style of intricate golds and sharp shining pieces that Wrynn adorned them in, right now it was freezing cold and quite frankly they were tired.
It was late in the evening, the last hints of the winter sun casting ghostly reflections on the dirty tile. They found Lettie upstairs, digging through a box of supplies.
“Lettie?”
She spooked for a split second, whipping around. “Ah! Babas, me asustó muchísimo.” She waved over to a chair in her makeshift infirmary. “Ay, sit there and wait for a moment. I wasn’t expecting you to be that fast.”
Drifter reluctantly followed her order, sitting down and folding their arms. “Why would I not be punctual?” They shifted slightly, watching one of her rats investigate their boot. “Hello, small one.” They muttered, leaning down to stare the little rat in the eye. Hopefully they didn’t give it cosmic horror or something like that. It was kind of cute, and looked like a pobber, but smoother.
“Ah, that’s Tláloc. Little troublemaker.” Lettie glanced over, almost cracking up at watching this brooding mysterious man have a very intense staring contest with a rat. She shook her head, and finished stocking the last few effervon treatment kits. “Now, I wanted to check your whole deal out before I have to improvise when I have to stitch you up.”
Drifter patted Tláloc on the head, the creature letting out a series of squeaks, before sitting up again, arms firmly crossed again. “So that’s what this is about. You don’t have to worry about my wounds, you know, I regenerate fast enough. Perks of being corrupted.” The remark had a scathing undertone, even though it was truthful.
Lettie tsk’d, digging a little pen light out of her belt. She flicked it on and shone it at their eyes, leaning over them. They flinched back, but didn’t blink, reacting more to her proximity than the light.
¿Qué diablos? Lettie had seen that their eerie, piercing white eyes glowed, but it seemed they also reflected light a little too well.
“Mind.. the space please.” They grunted out, leaning as far back as they could go. Keeping a level tone, they gave Lettie a warning glare. They really didn’t want to be hostile but touch was the one thing they couldn’t stand at all, not after that.
“Lo siento. Take it you don’t like touch, no? I can work with that.” Flicking off the light and tucking it into her belt, she watched Drifter’s expression. It was one she had seen many times before, in warzones. It was the look of distrust and caution. Who were they, really?
“Thank you. Sorry.” They looked at the floor, watching two rats play fight with each other, refusing to look at Lettie again.
“Have you slept at all? Lua, you look exhausted. That’s something, coming from me.” She let her gaze drift from their eye bags, to the scars on their cheeks, to the snaking silver that crept out from under the shawl. Were they a metal máquina like the Hex too? They did have sharp teeth, almost like fangs. But it wasn’t likely.
“Some..? I can run on exhaustion. I’ve had more important things to do. Like you have, and not this. I thought you wanted me to help take stock or something, not investigat-” They cut off, an uncomfortable look passing over their face. It was a deep panging feeling, hunger. Mixed with their nerves, it made a hellish combination. Why now of all times?
“Babas? You good?” Lettie paused, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” They stood up, sparing a last glance at the rats before turning heel and quickly rushing off, rounding the corner to the clothes store and vanishing into the backroom.
Lettie groaned. She had dealt with skittish people, angry people, hard-asses, every kind of person, yet Drifter was frustratingly unique. Confident and cold in battle, a ruthless killer. But as soon as you try to ask them something, they shut down and skittered off. Amir had once tried to ask them what their favorite colour was and they looked like he had threatened to kill their dog.
Arthur, who had heard some of the brief exchange, came up the stairs and to the little med bay. He spared a glance at the clothes shop, wondering what had happened for their quick departure.
“Hey, Lettie. The hell happened?” He leaned over the back of the armchair the drifter was in just a bit ago.
“Honestly, I don’t know with that fantasma. To answer your question from earlier, I don’t think they eat anywhere as much as they need to. Or sleep. Querida Lua, they need some damn rest before I have to stitch their sorry ass up.” She shook her head, scooping up a rat, Neenah.
Arthur scoffed. “They’ve been cooped up in that backroom for weeks, save for runs or Aoi and Amir physically dragging their ass out. I’m not surprised." He paused for a moment. "Maybe I can try to get them to try actual food. Don't need our only hope of surviving dropping dead because they ate like shit."
Lettie scoffed.
Chapter 6: Should I
Summary:
Sorry this is a little short, wasn't happy with it. Have something bigger in the works :D
Drifter realizes that timey is certainly wimey, and gains another nickname.
Chapter Text
Things were different. Time had been shifted, and with that, events were out of order. So now Drifter was looking down a scope, shrunk to the size of a fist, down at a tank. It was only February, yet the scaldra already had a tank, and hadn’t techrot proofed it. The comm in their ear fuzzed, before Amir’s voice broke through.
“Future! Anything on your end? I’m getting a lot of activity over there!” He sounded rushed, and not in a good way.
Drifter utterly hated talking through transference unless fully necessary, so Amir had built them a little auto-responder device. It had a bunch of different buttons with phrases they had recorded. Two taps. “Yes.”
“Yiiikess, uuuuh how many?” Well that wasn't a response they had recorded. Arthur had already said to ask yes or no questions. Drifter came out of razorwing, Titania landing gently on the rooftop. Two taps again. “Yes.”
“I’mmmmm going to assume that means a lot- I’ll send Arthur your way. Wait, what’s that- QUINCY LOOK OUT ohnevermindyoualreadyshotit-” The radio fuzzed again as the channels switched.
“Marty. Wait for me to get there before you do anything.” Arthur’s voice cut through the static, clear and firm. That was something they could do. The utter exhaustion hit them, after weeks of running on bare fumes. After Lettie’s attempted check-up they had tried to actually rest, only to be chased from sleep by swirling silver dolls, claws digging into their skull harder and harder until Noctis or Kalymos would wake them, their throat raw from screaming. It also didn’t help that neither the many couches or lounge chairs were comfortable, making his joints ache even more, feeling every scar like it was fresh. Drifter sat down on the roof, holding out a metal hand for a razorfly to land on, gently stroking the mechanical butterfly’s wings.
The roar of an atomicycle broke them out of their stupor. Hopping up quickly, they shrunk back into razorwing, speeding down to where Arthur was looking around for them, before he spotted the tank. It wasn’t armed yet, but it had been rolled out as a display of power. Arthur spooked as they flashed in front of him, perching onto his shoulder.
“Sol, Marty, don’t do that. So I take it this is the big show Viktor was raving about. I think I remember how to dismantle it.” Arthur lifted a hand up, offering Drifter a better perch, so their wings wouldn't get tangled in his hair for the second time. One tap on a different button. “Arthur.”
“Yeah?” He looked at the little fairy in his palm. If he didn’t know that it was a war machine that had ripped through techrot and scaldra alike a few moments ago, he would almost say it was cute. Drifter lifted off, blinking up the the top of a building, searching for something again. There. They swooped back, waving for Arthur to follow. He made the motion to get on his bike again, but they tapped the buttons again. “No.” “Arthur.” “Up.”
Arthur stopped, looking up. “You want me to climb that?”
“Yes.”
“Are you crazy?!”
“Yes.”
“Fair enough. I’ll try.” He groaned, trying to remember how Drifter had done it in their other frame, the bird one. After a couple tries, he scaled the wall, huffing. Titania shot ahead, twirling through the air, razorflies fluttering around the pair. As they rounded the circle of buildings, Arthur stopped dead. “What the fuck.” Is that an entire tank factory? How fast was it built? Did Viktor know about the loop? What would this mean for the Hex? Would they even make it to New Years?
“Arthur.”
Arthur stopped. This time their voice wasn’t a shoddy recording. He felt a firm hand on his shoulder and heard the clanking of heavy metal armor. He let out a sigh, turning to face Drifter. They had only a few outfits, and this was a favorite of theirs. He couldn’t see their face through the hooded mask they had, but from the tone of their voice, they were slightly concerned. They were clad in black and dark green technical gear, all made for working in extreme climates, as they had mentioned. That long, scarf looking, scaled cape flowed in the wind, catching fractals of light, shimmering.
He relaxed very slightly under their grip. “Sorry. Just… worried.”
“I get that. Right now, lets cut the brakes out of this tank and help Amir before Quincy blows a gasket.” They let out a huff of a laugh as the metal panels on their mask folded down to reveal their face. Drifter had learned that it was easier for a person to understand you and calm down if they had a face to look at, someone like them.
“Alright. Good idea, space boy.” Arthur started to climb down the building, before hearing Drifter audibly realize what he said.
“Space boy????” They burst out. “Well that’s a new one-” A laugh started working its way out of them before they could transfer into Titania.
Arthur smirked, hopping down the ladder. He didn’t even know why he called them that, but the name might stick around. If Quincy got to call them space trauma he got to call them space boy.
It was a mess here. Drifter spun in the air, ripping through a wave of scaldra, ducking bullets and lifting enemies in the air with swarms of butterflies. They narrowly ducked a swing from a hooked blade, filling the attacker’s chest with tiny bullets. They were at an almost uncontrollable speed, Amir’s constant sparking pushing them forward. He didn't really have a grip on how to give other people his speed, so they kept stopping and starting in jerky movements.
After a few hours of almost completely losing their shit on Amir, the group was almost done. Titania spun in the air, still tiny, and started to head to Arthur when a hand gripped itself around their body. A Scaldra Dedicant had its meaty hand wrapped around Drifter, crushing their metal shields. As its screeching laughter reached their sensors, they struggled, before realizing and coming out of razorwing quickly, knocking the Dedicant back before slamming a sword into it’s skull. Drifter fell out of transference, hitting the street hard. Titania had sustained enough damage to kick them out.
As the frame hit the pavement hard, Arthur spun around and rushed to them. “Drifter! You good?” He offered a hand to them, which they gladly took, standing up before keeling over. Even though their physical body sustained no damage, it still felt like all their ribs were broken.
“Yeah- gasp - I’m good- just need a moment. Need to get Titania out of here.”
Arthur’s eyes trailed to the black and green fairy, limp on the floor. Her midsection had been crushed in, wing like skirts bent.
“I got her. You go with Amir and Quincy.” He was firm, and held up a finger to their protests. “That’s an order.”
Disgruntled, Drifter obliged, one hand still massaging their chest. Ouch.
Arthur heaved the metal fairy onto his shoulders, carrying it like a wounded comrade. In a way, it was. She was his future, a metal war machine, empty and waiting to be puppeted around. But the way Drifter cared for their frames reassured him a little. The man, usually all cold and stoic, talked to the metal beings, gently cleaning them and treating them like people.
Drifter.
Arthur didn’t know what to think of them. At first, he was ready to sink a sword through their chest for breathing wrong. It seemed they were used to that, too. But now, they were a vital cog in the wheels of 1999. They didn’t wear their heart on their sleeve, but you would think that with how Sol damned honest they were. Blunt didn’t cut it.
They asked questions that you would only ask after knowing a person for at least half a year, yet deflected questions about their past. He couldn’t get a read on them, but he gave them the benefit of the doubt.
Walking in the garage after a long 30 minute drag, Arthur gently set Titania down for a moment, debating whether he should bring the crushed fame into the backroom, or leave her here for them to deal with. He decided it would be cruel to leave her in the cold. Not like she could feel it. Could she? Picking her up bridal style this time to give his shoulders a break, he nodded at Aoi, who was filling out a report, before working his way up the broken escalator. He was surprised to find the door unlocked, and stood for a moment outside the whispering void door. It chanted words he couldn't even begin to understand.
“MARA LOHK, MARA LOHK, YARA RIS, GITHLI MIG!”
Arthur shook his head, shedding the whispers. Out of instinct he went to knock, only for his fist to pass through. They really need to make him a doorbell. Screw it. Passing through that shroud of condensed cold, loud music hit his ears. It was something deep and rumbling, with harmonizing vocals.
“Drifter?” He yelled.
No response. There was some movement upstairs though.
“DRIFTER?” Louder now. Noctis trotted up to him, sniffing his leg.
“DRIFTER!” The music quickly shut off, and the sounds of several things falling and rushed fabric floated down.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Drifter spun around the corner, actively wrestling their shirt back on. Arthur froze, barely glimpsing swirling silver scars over soft muscle, and the distinctive warping of a burn scar over their hip before they got it fully on. “Was just cleaning my gear. Oh!” They stopped in front of him, gently running gloved hands over Titania’s body. “You brought her back. Thank you, a lot.” They gently took her from Arthur’s arms, carrying her to the table and laying her out.
“Are you going to repair her, or just get another?” It came out as a snark comment, but he meant it genuinely. Did they just have an infinite stock?
Drifter looked hurt. A frown creased well worn lines, and their brows furrowed. Any little bit of gratitude they showed a moment ago was gone. “Of course I’m going to repair her. I’m not cruel, no matter what you think of me. You can go. Lettie wants to discuss supplies with you.” Their words were sharp and short, and they spun to their foundry, back facing Arthur.
Seems I'm not welcome here anymore.
As soon as Arthur left the room, the door slammed itself shut behind him, locking. Well.
Outfit in question: Spent a little mula to make em look techy :D
Chapter 7: Social Cues
Summary:
Back and forth they go, in a constant tug of war of emotions. (bonus if you can point out what songs my chapter titles are named after bc i love naming stuff after songs)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Drifter sat at the big table in the middle of the backroom, hovering over Titania. They were wrist deep in her chest, connecting wires to her new chassis. Muttering apologies to the fairy, they wrenched a wire through infested flesh, clicking it in place. There. They sealed her chestplate on, seams sealing themselves. She was back in shape, and in under two hours! New record. They stashed her in the arsenal, before pulling off their gloves and shirt again. Pale, raw hands fiddled with the clasps on the waterproof fabric. They had picked up the nasty habit of pulling at the skin on their hands a long, long time ago, so now all their joints and fingertips were perpetually an angry red.
They had chosen not to wear their bodysuit today and it bit them in the ass. Hopefully Arthur hadn’t seen anything, any of those shameful scars. Their twin, Wrynn had embraced theirs, wearing them with pride. But Drifter could see nothing but stupid mistakes in that swirling silver.
Noctis whined at them, stretching up to put paws on their shoulder, licking their face with a slimy tongue.
“Awww, buddy! Ok, that’s enough, ok no, Noctis, buddy that’s so grossssss, noooo…”
Noctis slobbered over their face as they wrestled the wormy kubrow away. It was endearing how he knew when they were upset but being covered in slobber was also not fun. They grabbed the same towel they were using to clean Titania, flipped it over and wiped some of the slobber off, wincing at the bit of effervon that got on their face. That stuff sucked. It didn’t affect them the way it did civvies or the Hex, but it still burned and clouded up their lungs. It was almost like it didn’t want to touch the walls of their organs, so it just got stuck. Whatever.
Giving Noctis a few more headpats, and Kalymos some too, they pulled on the ragged shawl from the Duviri days. It was well worn and slightly dirty, but it was comfortable and familiar. That hunger feeling hit, and after rustling through their pack, they deemed: they were out of nutrient cubes. Damn the Void.
Amir did say that he re-wired the vending machines to not need coins, so maybe they would raid that. They exited the void door, ignoring whatever it was trying to chant at them now. Sucking in a breath, they went into void mode, edges of their body wisping away. It was freezing cold, like dipping yourself in a coolant lake, something they had done by accident a few times, pushed in by ventkids, or dared by a drunk Ticker. It wasn’t pleasant. Slinging themself down the stairs, they crept up to the machine.
They had never actually asked how to work it, but saw Amir slamming buttons. Random button spam it was. After a few unsuccessful attempts, a small pack of candy fell out of the little flap. They snatched it up and flung themself back up the stairs and into the backroom.
Quincy rubbed his eyes. Did that vending machine just dispense on its own? And where did the pack go? Didn’t help that it was dark out. “Shits haunted, cuz…” he muttered to himself, returning to shooting targets.
Settling down on the rug in front of the still running TV, some mindless advertisement running, they tore open the pack to try. Kalymos leaned over to sniff, giving a disapproving mrrraw at the little candy shells. “Look girlie, it’s what I got. You get free roam! As long as you keep off Lettie’s pobbers. Yeah?” They knew they were called “rats” but the little creatures looked so much alike. Kalymos gave them a scathing look before flopping down on their lap. “Dramatic.”
They popped a little circle in their mouth and chewed, before jerking back. It was so very sweet . It wasn’t bad but way too sweet. “Eaughhghhhh- what in the void-” They ate another, and another, and soon the pack was empty. Hunger overtook any other opinions about the snack.
“You know, Kaly, you could be a nice kavat and get me something, but nooo.” Drifter sighed, flopping back. The static-y buzz of an ad for the latest hottest technology buzzed on as Kalymos suddenly stood up, stretched, and bounded off. “Huh..?”
They sat back up, watching the sassy kavat vanish through the void door. Curious.
Arthur wasn’t fully asleep, but also wasn’t fully awake. He had been pretty restless after Drifter cast him out. It was partly on him for not asking clearly, but did they really need to be an ass about it? He huffed. They were always so unpredictable. I mean, really? They really threw a fi-
His thoughts were interrupted by a mraaa outside his office door and the scrabble of paws. The hell..?
He got up and opened the door to reveal Kalymos, her glowing eyes squinting at him. “Mrrraaaaw. Mrrr. Maaaaw.”
“Sorry, I don’t speak cat.”
“Mrrrrraaaaaaaaa.”
“Look, I don’t know what you need but-”
“Maaaaaa! Mrrraw!”
“Sol, okay!”
Arthur realized he must look looney talking to a giant hairless mutant cat in the middle of the night. Kalymos turned tail, walking ahead but glancing back to see if Arthur was following. He groaned, following the kavat. Up the stairs and back to the backroom again. The door opened for Kalymos but threatened to shut on Arthur, before she stuck a paw in it. Through the whispering curtain, and into the room. Titania was no longer on the table, but there were tools everywhere and rags covered in blood and effervon draped over chairs. They had probably done some serious work.
“Marty? Your weird cat dragged me here.” He called up the stairs, before looking around more. There was a shoddy kitchen setup in the corner, unused, a bunch of whirring machines, and it was a little cleaner but they hadn’t moved much around, like they were scared to get comfortable.
Drifter shot up from the floor. When they told Kalymos to get something, they meant food, not a whole human!
They bustled down the stairs, eyebrows raising at the scene. Arthur was in nothing but sweatpants, armor and straps shed. Technically, he was covered because of the swordsteel but having the armor gone was a shock.
“I am so sorry- were you asleep? I asked her to get something, and I didn’t mean you- Girlie!”
They flushed very slightly, embarrassed at the situation.
“What did you ask her to get?” He crossed his arms, leaning against a beam. He knew Kalymos was smart, but…
“Uh, just something small. I ran out of nutrients back here and those pellets from the vending machine are awfully sweet.” Drifter stopped themselves. Why were they telling him this? It looked weak. “Doesn’t matter. You can leave if you want, I’m sorry for her intruding on you.”
“I was already up. You mentioned ‘sweet pellets?’ What do you mean?” He raised a brow, watching them silently scold the kavat.
“Uhh, brown package, small circles with a hard shell? Filled with brown.”
Lua, they didn’t know what chocolate was?
“That’s candy mate, not anything nutrient. No wonder you’ve been on fumes. Actually, wait here. No sneaking off, yeah?” Arthur was determined to give them any sort of food, Lettie’s suspicion that they didn’t eat anything good confirmed.
“Mmm, okay.” Their voice always had a bit of vocal fry, a gravelly undertone that made anything they said sound like an innuendo. But it seemed they didn’t notice or mean it, because every time Quincy would try to playfully flirt with them, it was like trying to sweet talk a brick wall. They obviously hadn’t had much socialization, either being too blunt or asking really probing questions at 6 AM.
The microwave beeped, signaling the food was done. Amir had hooked up the K.O.L shopping site up to Drifter’s computer, thinking it would be something silly to introduce them to the random objects of this era, but all they had been doing was gifting the most random shit to everyone. Most of the gifts to Arthur were useful, save for the box of party hats. What was he to do with 200 paper party hats??
The microwave was one of those gifts. It had actually come in handy a few times. He grabbed the little plastic tray, peeling back the film. It was instant noodles with little fake meat cubes. Wasn’t the best but sure better then a pack of candy.
Drifter was sat on the floor, fiddling with one of their guns as he came in. The thing was gunked with effervon, and suddenly they were very glad they put back on their gloves.
“Marty?” Arthur set the tray on the ornate wood table. “Try this.”
They stood up, stretching a little, before perching on a chair and investigating the noodles. One familiar thing was the two straight sticks used as utensils.
“It’s not poison. Just. Try it?” He huffed, sitting across from them, pointedly ignoring the other weird looking animal that was roaming around. It was just as wormy as Noctis, but looked more like a fox with antennas. How many fucked up animals did they have?
“Alright. Oi, Vex, down. Not yours.” They pushed the snout of the vulpaphyla down to protest from the creature. Picking up the chopsticks, they gave a poke at the noodles before pulling the dish close and taking a bite. Out of instinct their arm curled around the bowl, like they were afraid that Arthur might take it back suddenly. The texture was odd but there was a nice flavour. Not too strong. They spotted the little cubes and immediately picked them out.
Arthur watched in interest, gently shoving away Vex, who was begging for pets. Drifter ate quickly, like it was going to vanish any second. It was the way a soldier ate during deployment, like every meal was the last they were going to eat for weeks, and usually, it was. After a few minutes, they pushed the dish back, laying their chopsticks in a precise way.
“So?” He leaned back, watching their reaction.
“It was… good. Thank you. You didn’t need to do that.” They rubbed the back of their neck, fidgeting with the loose threads on the shawl.
“Nonsense, don’t need my teammate falling asleep in the middle of the field because all they ate was candy.” He huffed, standing up and grabbing the bowl. “You get rest. Tomorrow morning is a run with Quincy. Scaldra’s making a move.”
He gave in to the creature and scratched Vex’s leathery head, being rewarded with a series of cat-like sounds from the vulpaphyla. “It’s almost cute. Almost. ”
Drifter chuckled. It was the first honest laugh Arthur had heard out of them.
Notes:
bonus bonus of Quincy now being convinced theres a snack stealing ghost
Chapter 8: Wyrd
Summary:
I'm sick so I decided to subject drifter to not being able to breathe mueheheh cough cougggh
Anyway my woes with using any AoE frame and instantly everything is GREEN
Notes:
This one is a bit long, I kinda blacked out while writing and boom 8 pages in a google doc so enjoy
Chapter Text
Small footsteps pummeled the broken ground, scampering over rubble and rot. Behind, an ensemble of thunderous screeches and the echoing gallop of hundreds of feet, some with a metallic clang.
Breath ragged, the child sprinted past halls and halls of ruin and death, almost slipping on blood spilling out from under a closed door.
It was nearly pitch black, the only light coming from discarded lamps and the sickening beauty of the void through the window, full of dead stars.
Through the commons, through more halls, through the Lunario court. Running, running, running, running, running, running, running more and more and more, yet the horde of beings chasing and chasing, unrelenting.
And there it was.
That singing.
It was like a thousand songs at once, a discordant harmony, never matching, drilling into the child’s skull.
They tripped.
And claws descended.
Water filled their lungs.
Yanking their head up, the lone drifter coughed up water, facedown in a fountain, the water stained with red.
Yelling sounded across the courtyard.
Boots hit the pavement, running again. Further and further through fantasy fields, under a sickeningly green sky, a jealous eye watching their every move.
And they hit the end of the island, watching the sky come closer and closer.
A shoulder slammed against the metal lift, after falling from the upper floor. The sounds of soldiers yelling followed, and they staggered up, limping along as fast as possible.
A bow weighed heavily in their hands as they aimed and shot, explosive energy filling the hallway with the stench of death.
They spun around the corner, feeling hands on their body, yanking them back.
The ceiling was brown and gold, and the void whispered into their soul as they shook off the murmur fragments. Running again, they swung around to shoot the incoming Anatomizer.
The bullet hit their chest.
Reactor alarms wailed.
And they watched Arthur with guilty eyes as the men died.
-
Drifter shot up from the couch, clawing at their chest. They couldn’t breathe. Nails scraped down soft flesh, a broken scream wracking their body. They were going to die. They were going to die and everyone would die with them.
They were suddenly bodyslammed by a skinny kavat, yowling in their ear. All the wind was knocked out of them as Kalymos sprawled over their body like a shield.
Deep breaths. Feel the air in your chest. Feel the awful cushions. Feel Kalymos. Breathe.
They broke out a sob, wrapping their arms around her, pressing their face into her shoulder, feeling the soothing purrs. After about twenty minutes, they calmed down enough to check the time. 7:30 AM. Fuck.
In ten minutes they needed to be out with Quincy. They gently pushed Kalymos off, sitting up and running a hand through tangled white hair. It was past their chin now, longer in the back.
Throwing on their bodysuit, top, and heavy pants as well as the cape for comfort, they transferred into Nova. They grabbed a void touched gun, a Burston prime incarnon. The one time they liked the void was when it was making really good guns. They snagged their Epitaph, a new weapon that Wrynn had insisted they try. Couldn’t hurt. Oh, and their Tonbo. It was one of their favorite melee weapons, a fast polearm with a long reach, perfectly balanced. They yanked the little communicator off the table, clipping it to Nova’s hip.
Out the door they ran, Vex and Kalymos tailing behind. Noctis couldn’t be bothered today. Quincy was waiting for them at the end of the stairs. “Ay, cuz, took ya long enough. Was ‘boutta bust down that door myself n’ see if that thing ate ya.” He gestured at Kalymos, who gave him a scathing look. Four taps. “Sorry.”
“Aight, aight, let’s bolt before his Maj gets his panties in a twist, yea?”
Drifter nodded.
Quincy, through his scope, watched chaos unfold. Scaldra had decided to gas out a residential area, with people still in it. He picked off a frozen solid soldier, shaking his head. That sidearm the Drifter had both launched volleys of cold, freezing everything in a blast radius, and sent bolts through skulls. That shiny silver gun though, that tore through yellow suits like paper. Scary.
He watched them slam a hand down, and a swirling circle of energy grew out, slowing anything it touched to a crawl. Taller and taller it grew until it passed through Quincy, yet it didn’t slow him. It made it easier to snipe foes, so he wasn’t going to complain, even when the prospect of the warframe tearing apart reality on the street below was terrifying.
With the street cleared, the end of a portal opened next to Quincy’s head, Drifter-Nova popping through.
“Ay, watch it, scared th’ shit outta me.” He looked up from the scope to see Nova completely still. Not in the pose their metal puppets assumed when they were walking around, but shock frozen.
“You good cuz?”
No response.
“Mate.”
Still nothing. The portal made a “ vworp ” sound, closing.
“Drifter?”
That got movement. They reached down, tapping on the little communicator. “Sorry.” “Quincy.” “Eleanor.”
He scoffed. The moody goth was having private conversations with them, eh?
“Just checkin’. This sector is cleared of baddies, popped em’ all.”
They nodded. Eleanor’s smooth voice rippled in both of their minds. “No one here but the remnants of rot and civilian life. You are free to move on.”
It was a sickly, pungent green. Even through layers of swordsteel, infested flesh, and the entire void, Drifter could feel the substance burn through Nova’s body. It corroded the metal shell, leaving pock marks. Dropping another antimatter bomb, they leapt up onto an apartment's balcony. They needed to cough, but Nova had no mouth. Leaping out of transference, their mask quickly opened and they hit the concrete hacking. The smell was sharper now, stinging and potent.
Heaving coughs shook their ribs, and as soon as they took a breath in, regret hit. Sealing up the mask and trying to breathe through the respirators, They aimed and shot the last few scaldra with their sirocco. Through the mess of fighting, a few tanks of the shit had burst, covering the ground in a thick layer of viscous death. Thankfully, the area was pretty clear of civvies so now it was just them suffering.
“Wagwan, cuz? You sound like death ova’ the mic.” Quicny’s voice cut through the fog of their mind. They wheezed, trying to respond but their lungs refused to work. Any effervon that got turned into a gas had condensed itself in their lungs, stuck. Calling Nova forth once more they jumped higher, opening a portal to launch themselves out of the area. They popped out of the portal, only to slam full force into another tank of effevron, the impact knocking them out of transference. The sticky substance couldn't permeate the extreme metal of their pants but it sure could sink through the fabric of their sleeves. Grabbing Nova and dragging her out of the puddle, they choked on the stench. Their arms burned.
“Quincy-” They gasped between coughing fits. “Effervon- Lots here-” They bent double, wheezing breaths muffled. “Get Lettie- there’s probably people-”
Stumbling along, dragging their beloved frame unceremoniously to a spot they were sure didn’t have any of the poison. Quincy said something over the mic but Drifter couldn’t bother to listen right now, yanking off their helmet and throwing up. It helped a bit. Still felt like they were drowning, though. Breaking them out of their fog was Arthur’s voice, firm and sharp.
“Drifter, do you hear me?”
“Yeah-” They choked out. They picked Nova back up by the armpits and set her against a wall. She was soaked in burning, neon green.
“Where are you? Look around for landmarks.”
They looked around, squinting through blurry eyes. They were under a metal structure, with a large multi-level concrete structure behind it. They relayed this to Arthur slowly.
“Alright. You said there’s civvies?”
“Maybe- Dunno-”
“Breathe. Lettie is coming with a kit. Hold tight.”
Breathe? Really??
“Okay.”
They thought for a moment before sucking in a painful breath and going void mode. It shed some of the effervon that was stuck to their suit and cape, but didn’t do much for the stuff in them. It did soothe the pain slightly. They came out of void mode, exhausted. How did Wrynn do that so easily?
Drifter sat next to their Nova, waiting for Lettie. They would accept help just this once.
A cry broke out through the air, following a crumbling noise. He jerked upright, transferring into Nova, ignoring the burning feeling all over again. The cry came from just around the corner, where part of a building had crumbled from the corrosive material eating through it. They could see the shapes of two people through the rubble. Creating some null stars, they lifted a chunk of concrete, ignoring their hate of talking through transference and grunting, letting strings of curses loose as they chucked the piece over. Warframes were strong but it still took effort, and they didn’t have Rhino or Qorvex to help lift.
It was a woman and a young child under the concrete. He pulled out the two, careful to not put any of the effervon still stuck to Nova on them.
The strain and burn took its toll, shunting them out of transference again. Their knees buckled upon hitting the ground, and the woman began to freak out more, but was interrupted by the roar of an an atomicycle. Lettie swung around the corner, and dropping her bike ran over to Drifter first. They were surprised, but couldn’t begin to care, gripping the ground and coughing hard, wretching.
“Babas! The fuck happened? ¡Te ves horrible!” She kneeled down beside them, ripping a mask out of a kit and shoving it on their face. The relief wasn’t instant but they weren't suffocating anymore. As soon as she was sure that they wouldn't asphyxiate, she moved to care for the other people.
Drifter, still holding the mask to their face, staggered up and over to Nova. Her poor shell was completely scarred, seared away. They would need to work on her for days, or worst case let the Helminth repair her. They wrapped an arm around her midsection, ignoring the stinging of fresh effevron soaking through their sleeve, dragging her back in the direction of the mall, picking up their discarded helmet along the way. Lettie finally noticed the noise, and almost blew a gasket.
“AY ¡IDIOTA! ¿QUÉ? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” She hollered, tone fierce and scary. Drifter paused, slightly afraid.
“Taking Nova to where I can clean her?”
It was easier to speak now, but they still had the mask firmly planted in place.
“You are NOT going ANYWHERE until I can get you back! I will fistfight Arthur if it comes to it!” She was almost red, and Drifter shrunk themselves as far into their shoulders as they could.
“No need to do that, Lettie. They have the day off until we see how much effervon they inhaled.” Arthur’s voice cut in. It seemed he took over comms for Eleanor. They wondered where Quincy went. They didn’t want to abandon him but being coated in noxious fumes does something to a person.
Drifter squeaked in protest as Lettie grabbed the scruff of their neck, hauling the man that was taller and broader than her with ease. They felt utterly pathetic. First it was stupid nightmares, and now they were off the chore chart for getting their nose stuck in green gunk.
The cold metal of Lettie’s exam table was uncomfortable. Drifter shifted a few times, antsy to get away. She had dragged the table into her storefront, sliding the doors shut to give him some privacy, and he appreciated it. Lettie hadn’t been phased by their scars, those shimmering blue and silver lines creeping around their skin, or at least she hadn’t reacted out loud.
They had been shed of their shirt and top half of their suit, left in a black high neck tank top. Bandages were wrapped around where the chemical had seeped through the fabric and left their skin a raw red. They tugged at the edges of the new mask Lettie had put on them, the straps sitting weirdly.
“Ay. Stop messing with it.” She didn’t even need to turn around to tell.
“Sorry.” Hands moved to fold in their lap.
“Okay, you are definitely doing better now, but querida Lua you would think you drank a tank of that stuff. Es extraño, though. It was almost like it didn’t want to touch your organs, so it was trapped.” She wondered aloud, spinning around and holding their face in place as she scrubbed their cheek with a cloth to loud protest.
“Ay! Hold still!” She pinched their ear, getting a small, theatrical wail.
“Woe is me. Lettie, I’m alright, okay? I can recover from this, I know so far you guys haven’t seen me at my best but the upside of being a void monster now is that I recover faster. Yeah?” Their voice took on an uncharacteristically soft, sincere tone, backed by that rumbling vocal fry they always had. It always made them sound like a conventionally “smoldering” spy in a suit from an adventure movie. But this wasn’t a movie.
“Ay, tú. I know you heal fast. But you don’t recover well , ja?” She grabbed their chin again, only using her fingertips to stabilize their head. Nothing more. She rinsed the rag and scrubbed off more of the corrosive green that had dried on. “While your body seals up all those wounds, it doesn’t let you rest.” She moved the mask for a bit, scrubbing the tip of their nose as they scrunched up their face. Like a cat.
“I… Suppose. But I don’t want you wasting supplies that could be used for people who need it more.” They idly picked at their knuckles again, blunt nails pulling at the skin.
“You need it. So it isn’t a waste. Claro y sencillo, ja?” She finally pulled back, fixing the mask and pulling off her gloves. “Now. You stay here for a moment and I’ll be back. Behave.” That last remark was both to Drifter and to the few rats that had finally resurfaced from their hiding spots. Tláloc jumped onto their lap, and they relaxed just a little, running calloused fingers through soft fur.
Arthur had come up with Lettie but she blocked him outside the door, waiting until Drifter pulled on the old shirt she threw them. Apparently, it used to be one of Arthur’s. It was oversize and worn, but comfortable and long sleeved.
“I’m decent now. Oi, Tláloc, quit chewing at that!” They softly picked up the little rat from where he was gnawing at the tube on their mask.
They looked up as Arthur came in, his brows furrowed. “You certainly look better, but have the rest of today and tomorrow off. I don’t want to see you working at all, yeah? Not even cleaning guns with Quincy. I need you 100%.” His voice was firm, a facade of anger, but they picked out a tinge of worry.
“But-”
“No buts. Lettie and I agreed. Plus, Quincy was concerned, saying you just vanished. I get why but try to let someone know. That is a big risk.” Arthur leaned forward, bracing a hand on the exam table they sat on, reaching over to scratch Tláloc’s head. “And. I want to see you in the food court at 9 sharp. Briefing, and dinner. Those people you helped had some cooking supplies.”
“Alright.” Drifter shuffled off the table, standing up and instantly regretting it, knees a bit bashed in. “ Ow ow ouff ough…” They muttered various curses, trying to shake the stiffness out. Lettie snorted as they set Tláloc down to instead brace themselves on the table as well. Their hand almost brushed Arthur’s before they fully stood. “Whew. Okay. And uhm… Thank you, Arthur, for the shirt. I guess I’m off now.”
Just before they fully escaped, another mask kit was shoved in their arms. “And use it! I better see it on you at 9, ja, Babas?”
Drifter nodded before sulking back to the backroom, afternoon light illuminating the tiles.
Arthur said no working, but he didn’t say no research!