Hyperfixation? Never heard of her.

Drifter found themself staring at a strange frame, adorned with horns like Oberon's, but still feminine, with deer-like ears, and a long, barbed tail like a devil's. It stood before them, their hands outstretched, the flowers from the Cathedral blooming from her palms.

Drifter reached for the blooms, a creeping pain coming up through their hands before they managed to pull back.

"You have to play nice if you want my help," Drifter scolded the frame. It tilted it's head, causing Drifter to jump back. "Whoa-"

The helmet pulled back from the face of the frame, and Drifter found themself staring at an entirely new person. They had freckles, and long terracotta hair, and scars over their eyes like.. Like the sigils of Lua and Sol.

"help.. them… Find their…way." Eithne's voice was fragmented, hoarse from unuse.

"Who?" Drifter felt Umbra's presence behind them, they knew the kid said a few frames could be sentient, but they never mentioned that two of them absolutely were.

"Wisp..Around.. Harrow."

Drifter's eyes went wide, and they shook their head.

"They're alright, they're perfectly fine, Danu." Drifter insisted as the dread pooled in their gut. Eithne, or, as she is known in their time now, Danu, shook her head.

"Hidden…tragedies…still lurk… From Mother… to Son… From Father… to Daughter." Umbra's hand came forward, and he stepped between Drifter and Danu.

He took the flower, looking to Drifter. Drifter held up their hands, before Danu eyes began to water.

"Please…Be certain."

"I'll try, but you have to trust me." Drifter insisted. Danu almost laughed, a soft huff escaping her. Umbra watched her with an intensity, his hand moving around her back.

"Trust.. Is not..The Problem."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drifter arrived that morning at la cathédrale, earlier than Lyon, Marie or Roathe was accustomed to. They walked alongside the Devil, their footsteps falling on the stones.

"One of the frames, Danu, woke up and just started talking about some kind of… Problems, between you three that haven't been resolved." Drifter was straightforward, crossing their arms when they finally stood at the altar.

"Danu?" Roathe circled Drifter for a moment, searching for any of their notorious tells. There was only a burning concern in their eyes, and an urgency laid out by the tapping of their foot. "Now that is certainly an accusation, Usurper. Did we not all already agree that our uneasy alliance was, in fact, steadier than it has been in centuries?"

"Actually, it wasn't you she mentioned, Roathe," Drifter looked to Lyon and Marie. "It was you two. The Wisp around Harrow."

Marie and Lyon glanced at one another, and Marie sighed.

"Oui, of course Eithne would be so worried her future is even calling to them to help." Marie moved forward, looking to Drifter.

"Eithne? Do you mean there's another-?" Drifter couldn't finish, before they caught the scent of some particularly strong lemongrass and lavender.

Eithne stepped out of the stairwell, holding new incense, smiling a bit. The greenery sprouting around her shoulders as she moved through la cathédrale. Eithne paused upon seeing Drifter, her eyes growing wide.

"Is this them? The one you three have told me about?" Eithne approached Drifter, her brow furrowed. Drifter found themself speechless, their heart suddenly roaring to life between their ears. Compared to the others, she seemed distinctly alive. The woody texture of the protoframe's features, the greenery that seemed to sway with an invisible breeze. The terracotta color of her hair catching the light in a copper halo. And to think her Warframe was still so deeply connected to her memory.

"You're Danu-"

"Eithne, actually. Danu is another name for Terra herself. She goes by many, many a name." Oh the Ostrons would love her, the kindness in the correction, the patience. Drifter didn't miss the scars along her hands, however, and the strength hidden under the layers of her outfit.

Roathe's eyebrows shot up, before that rumbling proud chuckle came from him.

"Even a Usurper falls for the Witch… Strange." Roathe moved to sit in his usual spot, smirking as he watched the exchange.

"Oh hush you," Eithne chided him, looking up. "There's a better reason to be 'ere than to be worried about little old me. They've know you much longer." She moved around Drifter, presenting Lyon and Marie with their own incense. "Here, I wanted to give you these. I figured it might be useful for the next Solstice."

Drifter blinked, shaking their head and watched the three interacting. Marie appeared overjoyed with the gift, even Lyon was smiling. Lyon was smiling at Eithne. It shouldn't have bugged Drifter, it should have been a good sign, if what Roathe said was true about her being a witch. That accent in her voice, the lively, boisterous laughter, the quick wit..

"It's lovely to meet you, Eithne." Drifter collected their thoughts enough to speak.

"It's a joy to meet you, Drifter. I've heard we're more siblings in war than we are in peace, is that quite right?" Eithne asked outright. Drifter choked. How in Sol's name did she already know? Had they told her? No, they would have mentioned her sooner if they had told her, the KIMs would have that conversation.

Lyon froze. He hadn't discussed Drifter's past with Eithne, and he knew for certain Marie hadn't either. Eithne and Marie had become closer, that was for certain, but their gossip remained between how best to share their faiths, and perhaps on occasion prank Roathe for all the trouble he would give Marie. Lyon glanced to Roathe, and Roathe held up his hands, shaking his head.

"Not one of us have spoken of your past, Drifter." Roathe spoke calmly, and Eithne paused. She tilted her head. She glanced between the trio, before shaking her head, laughing.

"Oh, you lot! Ye didn't need to tell me!" Her accent was always stronger when she was in a good mood. "Drifter has that look in 'er eyes! It takes one of us war-born to recognize another! Even if we were born centuries apart. There ain't no shame in it."

Drifter blinked, shaking their head and stammering with a bit of a laugh.

"Is it really that easy to tell?" Drifter asked, their face feeling hot with the embarrassment of being caught. Eithne nodded, her voice lowered.

"Child… Your hands are shakin', itchin' towards a weapon I can't see I'd bet. You don't sleep well cause you can't, the shadows under your eyes belie the nightmares that come in the dark. You dress practical, you never know when you could go from safety to the burning ashes of another place." Eithne placed a very careful hand on their shoulder. "You help people, always givin', but there are folks worried all the time you could wind up pourin' from an empty chalice. You think you've healed, and you're not wrong to think that, but I'm gonna remind you, summer song, that it's okay if you're not always alright. There would be no greater honor than to be by your side on both the brightest and darkest days."

Roathe gawked, as both Lyon and Marie recoiled. They had just met, that was impossible! Eithne watched as Drifter's eyes welled with tears for just a second, as they swallowed hard and took half a step back.

"How the fuck would you know that?" Drifter felt defensive. Of course they would, they were just read to filth in front of three people they had trusted with their story by someone who had never met them before. "How do you know that?"

"Drifter," Eithne's expression softened as she took a step back. "The sand is still tainted with the irons of war, and you don't think we would listen should our futures reach out to our pasts?"

Lyon's eyes widened. The megrims he experienced, the blood he would now see occasionally staining her hands, the whispered prayers in moments that seemed entirely ordinary. That pull from before strengthened, and he stepped forward.

"You see your counterpart, the equivalence across the Void," Lyon wanted to be sure his assertion was correct.

"Indeed, Father Allard," Eithne addressed him rather formally, "I do. Visions, on occasion, born of the pains of others that I cast back upon myself."

Drifter's eyes widened. Something about that whole arrangement felt off. Marie scowled slightly, shaking her head. There is was.

"You cannot pour from an empty chalice, Eithne," Marie scolded.

Eithne looked to Marie. "Maybe not, but I can help in ways that help you feel like yourselves for longer. Lessen the migraine auras to where they do not feel so paralyzing, make it so that there may be pain free days now and again so you can dance under the light of Sol, using the power gifted to you."

Oh. So that would explain why Danu was so worried.

"You've been offering to take away their pain?" Drifter interjected, pulling Eithne's gaze off of Marie.

"Yes. You see, War-Born, that's someplace where we may differ. I offer to take their pain away, or a means to choose when they are to be in pain, self-inflicted or otherwise," Eithne explained, "Because where I come from, to grant a painless eve is to be as merciful as Terra herself, as she keeps Lua in her orbit, and dares not venture from circling Sol in all their glory." Eithne leaned in close, smiling at Drifter. "Have you seen the crop fields burned all in the name of Gods who were once your eternal idols, starchild?"

Drifter rapidly drew their weapon, pointing it right at Eithne's forehead as their heart roared in their ears. Their hands were shaking. That sickening smile, the lack of emotion in her voice.

Eithne blinked, staring at the weapon, her expression flickering. She held up her hands, stepping back and away from the gun.

"You don't want to do this." Drifter couldn't find the courage, but there was something, in every timeline, they fucking knew, what the Indifference does to people, what the Void itself does to people. "Not her, not this time."

Eithne tilted her head, her expression shifting.

"So you have seen the worst of it, torture even." Eithne's brow furrowed, the smile transforming into a thin line pulled across her face. "And you're quite young. Perhaps I judged too harshly."

"That was a judgement?" Lyon, surprisingly, was the first to find his voice. "A judgement of what? Their very soul?"

"Precisely, Father Allard." Eithne responded. Lyon felt the distance this time, how she kept herself away from him in this moment. A wise call, as he felt a fury bubbling in his chest.

"You were the one deemed a heretic in your time, Eithne, not them!" Lyon pulled Eithne away, his expression hardening as he stared her down. "They have done no wrong here! They have shown us, arguably relics to their time, that there is hope! You cannot claim to have done the same!"

"Neither can you! And by the Celestials I have every right to doubt! I hear nothing but saintly behavior from this one stranger, I should know better by now than to trust foreigners from a place I've never seen before to bring good tidings!"

"Why would you have any reason not to believe myself and Marie?" Lyon challenged, and Eithne exploded.

"HAVE YE FORGOTTEN SO QUICKLY WHERE I CAME FROM?! THE LAST TIME I TRUSTED SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF THE LUMINARIES I WATCHED MY FAMILY DIE AT THE END OF THEIR SWORDS!"

Lyon let go, the glow of her eyes in the candlelight, the shimmer of tears, the redness in her face…

"So forgive me, Father, if I test those who come through the door, to ensure I don't watch the last Cathedral to accept my heretical ways burning to the ground in the dead of night." Eithne stepped away, before heading for the stairwell. She briskly went up the stairs, locking herself once again in the Sanctuary.

Drifter watched, swallowing hard again. They let their weapon go, for half a second reaching out to Eithne, before looking back at Lyon and Marie. Marie's covered her mouth with one hand, looking away, her own eyes watering. Lyon was frozen, his eye fixed at the end of the stairwell.

"Lyon?" Drifter tried to pull him from the stupor, their own voice hoarse as if it had been them yelling. "What- what did I just walk into?"

Lyon's gaze darted down to Drifter, and he shook his head.