(don't need to read it to understand this, just if you're curious)
--
Salem
I asked what Drifter's name was, and then got so sad I didn't ask anything else.
Broadsword
Yeah. They're good at that.
Broadsword
What did they say?
Salem
They don't remember.
Broadsword
What? How?
Salem
They forgot it after a few hundred years, they said.
Salem
I caught a glimpse of what that was like for them. Lua wept.
Salem
It wasn't even a fraction of all they went through but I could feel it, someone ripping my self away until I was just another doll in the puppet show. Bloody miserable.
Broadsword:
Sorry you had to see that.
Salem
That's what they said too, like it was their fault they've had such a sorry life.
Salem
Ugh. I think I want to give them a hot cocoa and a hug. Do we still have cocoa?
Broadsword:
We do. I'll start some milk on the stove for you.
Broadsword has gone offline.
You work fast, Eleanor said, leaving her surface level awareness of his thoughts out of the conversation, as usual. He didn't need to know the things she caught without meaning to.
-
By the time Eleanor made her way to the kitchen, Arthur had already reconstituted some milk powder in a saucepan, the tin of cocoa sitting ready on the counter. She knew he knew when she arrived - his sense of hearing was better now, but he'd always had a sense for when his sister was around. Eleanor made jokes about twin telepathy when they were young, but he'd made a big fuss about it being nonsense. Amusing, the way life works out sometimes.
"Figured you would want to catch Drifter before they slipped off to deal with another problem," he said casually, still carefully stirring the pot. Arthur spent a lot of time sitting at the bank of monitors in the security office, and he'd watched Drifter slip in and out of the mall more than Eleanor had realized. "I swear they're finding more things to do than we do."
Knowing Arthur, Eleanor expected that to be a point of distrust. It still felt unreal that Drifter was here to help, but... He couldn't argue with the results.
I hope you're not going to start competing with them, Eleanor said in amusement. That was the last thing they needed right now, Arthur and Drifter keeping score on techrot culls.
Arthur scoffed. "Aoi and Amir have that covered with their pizza night bets. Drifter doesn't know what to do with that, I think. They've just been… focused."
Arthur's primary association with the Drifter was still the moment they met. Eleanor relived it, seeing the devil in the ugly poncho be stabbed through the hand, then look prepared to rip themself free the hard way so they could go on biting ankles, or whatever it was they were going to do. That was the part of their character that stuck for him. The wolf gnawing off its leg to escape the snare. Self-destructive determination. He thought they were going to get themself killed, trying to survive.Â
"Milk's hot," Arthur said, looking to Eleanor.
Thanks, Arthur.
He wasn't expecting thanks. "No problem. It's at least partially my fault you had that conversation anyway, so…" he shrugged.
In Arthur's eyes, the Drifter was an unnamed mystery, clawing their way out of misery and into trouble with all the tenacity of an exotic big cat released from a snake oil salesman's two-car garage - with similarly terrible repercussions for the native wildlife. Arthur needed to name it, understand it, be sure it wasn't going to be a danger to him and his.
He felt very sad to see a wounded animal like that, but he wasn't putting down the bear gun until it limped away.
I was curious too, Eleanor pointed out, and took out the stack of paper takeout cups from the cabinet. Should I make this a joint apology?
Arthur huffed and shook his head at the pot, which he hadn't looked away from since she walked in. Eleanor didn't need to be a mind-reader to know when her little brother was feeling self-conscious. "Nah. No reason to. But, um. Sorry. To you. For not asking them myself."
I would have eventually anyway, she pointed out. She wrote out three names across the cups. Arthur, Eleanor, Drifter. Shame that there wasn't a better name for the third. I think I like them. Pleasant conversation, when I don't accidentally trigger any strong memories of Duviri.
Duviri. Arthur still didn't know what to make of it. The spirals, the death, the Void. He couldn't wrap his head around it all. "It's hard to believe they're telling the truth about that."
It's the truth. A spoonful of cocoa powder went into each of the cups, and then a packet of sugar. There's so much more they're not telling though, only because there's so much of it. I don't know how they stand it.
He hesitated, concern pouring off of him in waves before he turned to look at Eleanor. "You'll… tell me if there's anything to worry about. Right?"
Are you worried about them? Or about us?
There, that flash of the snarl when they were threatened. How dead-eyed they looked, staring at their coffee on New Year's morning. The answer was yes. "I just need to know they're not a problem."
Not to worry, brother. Your early warning detection system is on the case - assuming I survive the year, mind intact. He flinched, immediately regretting asking. It was a little mean of her, she could admit that, but he could use the reminder that she was more than a tactical advantage sometimes. She moved on before he could apologize, nudging him aside so she could pour the milk into the cups. We don't have peppermint, do we?
He laughed through his nose, still feeling like a tit, but able to soldier on. "If you want to crush up some breath mints, we do."
Eleanor rolled her eyes. She would have laughed, if she could. I'll pass, but you're welcome to it.
She finished mixing up the drinks and slid Arthur's his way. Again, he hadn't expected that bare minimum show of gratitude, but this time he knew he should have. His older sister had always taken care of him.
And if his older sister didn't get away before he started thinking about the good old days, before the tongue-shaving and the mind-reading and the end of the bloody world, she'd start bawling like a baby.
She started heading for the door, a takeout cup in either hand as she started pulling the fronds of her awareness out of the room to scan the mall for Drifter.
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Broadsword
Well, I figure it's probably not Drifter, and you probably would have caught it in their head when Aoi asked about it.
Salem
Their first reaction was Drifter. If it's not their real name, it's close enough.
Salem
We're not exactly filling out any paperwork for the new hire, so I don't think we need their legal name. Is this just curiosity?
Broadsword
Basically. Was wondering if they were hiding it. No one calls themself Drifter for a happy reason.
Salem
Worried we've got Entrati Jr. on our hands chasing after dear old Dad?
Broadsword
Heh. No. Just curious.
Salem
So why don't you ask them?
Broadsword
It's awkward.
Salem
I know. I'm dying to ask, too.
Salem
So intriguing, a nameless drifter from the future with powers beyond comprehension, deigning to bless us with their no-strings-attached assistance for no apparent reason other than they want us to succeed.
Salem
Who are they?
Salem
WHAT are they?
Salem
Why are we special?
Salem
Are they into mute monsters with long tongues?
Broadsword
I am NOT engaging with that.
Broadsword
If you want to ask them any of those questions, only let me know the answers to the first three.
Salem
I could ask if they're into grim soldier boys with big swords.
post #1 to avoid posting anxiety: hi i'm aster. i like kullervo. also there are some other warframes i guess. i'm also obsessed with my operator and drifter, and i will probably post about them here because i don't have warframe friends to talk about them with.
post #1 to avoid posting anxiety: hi i'm aster. i like kullervo. also there are some other warframes i guess. i'm also obsessed with my operator and drifter, and i will probably post about them here because i don't have warframe friends to talk about them with.
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