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⨠ # 10-O. ---- INDEPENDENT, PRIVATE, SELECTIVE, 21+ ONLY. THE DRIFTER / THE OPERATOR OF DIGITAL EXTREME'S WARFRAME. CANON DIVERGENT & HEADCANON DRIVEN. -------------------------------- BY MONTY ( 32, HE/THEY ). [ rules. | blog. | playlist. ]

he can sing; he's a baritone. he hasn't really done it since duviri (he stopped a while before the executions began), but he starts humming again when he's doing simple busywork.

he whittles. another habit picked up in duviri, partly out of necessity and partly as a means to keep his hands busy working when there wasn't really any mechanical things that needed tending.

when he uses transference with any of the hex / other protoframes, there are parts of his mind that are deliberately walled off. he has to save the hex and he's already subjected them to a timeloop, exposing them to even half of the cosmic horrors he's seen, experienced, and committed won't help matters.

cy said 'your golden masters'

ORESTES : you are orestes from the oresteia by aeschylus, and you are haunted by a cycle of pain. you try your hardest to be a better person, but sometimes you wonder if you will stop feeling trapped by your past. you have a strong sense of justice, you are quick to protect and defend those you love, and you are not afraid to compromise your morals if that means you are settling the score. eventually though, the consequences of your deeds will catch up to you, but that's okay, because sometimes looking your ugliness right in the eye is the greatest release.

tagged by: @br0adsword tagging: just dewit

kaithe

k-drive

atomicycle

he's fine with the atomicycle, but overall he's far better at riding the kaithe and generally enjoys it a lot more. for one she's a lot more responsive and they work in sync, he can easily guide her with just his thighs or a click of the tongue if he needs his hands free, and she's smart enough not to fly or run into anything hazardous if he's too occupied to steer her.

the k-drive is good for the same easy steering hands free reasoning, but he definitely ate shit several times learning how to ride it (picture a skateboard hitting a rock and launching their rider off). overall it's fun to cruise around in and do tricks on, but he wouldn't choose it first thing.

and the atomicycle is... okay. he'll ride it because höllvania probably can't handle also seeing a crazy skeletal horse flying around, but he's not gonna enjoy it. still it is an old machine, and he's very good with old machines and keeping his hands busy, learning how they work, etc. so at least it makes up for being an unpleasant riding experience in that department.

The truth is that 1999 makes him feel better, more at ease. He'd never call it simpler aloud, least of all to anyone's face -- and frankly he can't think of a term that feels more suiting and less demeaning to the struggles everyone in Höllvania faces -- but in a way it is. They share a common enemy, it's a ground war, and without he myriad factions, Void floods, or constant threat of Sentients popping up, there are worse frontlines to be on. And it was the farthest possible place he could be from the Zariman which, in his book, was the best place to be.

" Hm, actually you're my first stop, " he muses, setting the bag slung about his shoulder on the bar top. " But thanks for the hint, now I know who I'm visiting next. " He's half-joking. Of all the people to air out grievances and talk to, Drifter feels the least qualified. Even for simple things like just engaging in regular human conversation, he's woefully lacking. It's one of the benefits of transference, he thinks. No words required. Yet it's not an easy thing, he knows. Especially when there was still so much of his own mind that was walled off.

" Umbra's patrolling, " he starts, hopping up on the bar counter and swinging his legs over, landing on the other side. He might have all the social graces of a rock, but he knows Arthur well enough by know to slap the urge to escape and get back to work out of his hands. Drifter's much the same way, unfortunately for Arthur 'getting to work' also just so happens to mean getting to him. Besides he has his own motives; a conversation with Amir he hasn't been able to get out of his head.

Whatever Arthur's drinking -- or staring into with deep Britannic contemplation -- Drifter removes, finishes, and tosses aside. Two clean glasses are placed on the bartop, and Drifter pulls a bottle -- more of a jug really -- from his bag. " Wine from Cetus, " he announces, filling the glasses with the spirit before setting one before Arthur. " It's supposed to be imbued with the 'etheric signature' of someone you wish to be rid of. 'Drink them in the evening, expel them by morning' -- so the merchants say. Don't ----- think of me when you drink it. The pettiness of an Ostron merchant might actually fuck with time travel. "