Lord of Sextans

DOES YOUR MUSE , WHILE FIGHTING ( not sparring ) …

fight honourably  /  fight dirty  /  prefer close-quarters /  prefer range  / chat during / go silent  /  low pain tolerance  /  high pain tolerance  /  attack in bursts  /  attack steadily  / go for the kill  /  aim to disarm  /  fight defensively  /  bait an opponent’s first strike  /  strike first /  provoked easily  /  provoke their opponent  /  tease  /  get visibly frustrated  /  shout while attacking  / use strategy /  focus on their battle /  experience conflicting thoughts during battle  /  rush in recklessly  /  try to read their opponent before fighting /  fight wildly  /  fight calmly apathetically  /  fight with anger  / fight with excitement /  fight because they have to  /  fight because they want to /  fight without regard to wounds  /  run away when wounded  /  hide wounds  /  take a blow to protect another  /  prefer a blade /  prefer a gun  /  prefer a bow  /  prefer a shield  /  prefer a spear naginata  /  prefer a personalized weapon  /  prefer magic or spells /  prefer brawling  /  their greatest weakness is physical  /  their greatest weakness is mental  /   their greatest weakness is emotional  /  transform for battle  / fight as they appear  /  rely on strength  /  rely on speed  /  use everything they have  / hide their full potential  /  exhaust quickly  /  high stamina  /  doubt their strength  /  proceed with caution  /  behave arrogantly  /  brag after landing a hit  /  belittle their abilities  /  use psychological tactics  /  use brute strength  /  avoid civilians  /  strike down civilians  /  damage surroundings  /  avoid damaging surroundings  / signature fighting style  /  making it up as they go  /  mastered skillset /  learning their skillset  / fancy footwork  /  sloppy footwork  /  messy fighter  / elegant fighter  /  accept defeat  / refuse defeat  /  beg for mercy /  compliment their opponent  /  insult their opponent  /  use unnecessary movements  /  move efficiently  / barely move  /   prefer to dodge  /  prefer to block  /  defend their blindside  /  has no blindside  / use all available advantages  /  strictly use one main method  /  play around /  hold back  /  fight ruthlessly /  show mercy  /  wait for opponent to be ready  /  strike when opponent isn’t ready  /  fear death  /  fear pain  /  fear killing  /  has PTSD /  avoid fighting  /  has lost a fight  / has won a fight /  has killed /  refuses to kill  /  want to die standing  /  would succumb slowly  .

Tagged by: @freespiritedstarling​

The skimmer had been cruising for quite a bit, Ari’s leg bouncing as her thoughts kept running. Finally, the silence had been too long. “Alright. You want to start explaining what that was about back there?” Aries gave a questioning grunt from where he was floating. “Don’t know what ya talkin about” “Taurus Shit! What did you hear back there that I couldn’t?” Aries stayed silent for a long moment. “Void… Well, not quite Void song but a Call non the less.” He shrugged. “It’s a frequency mainly only Singularities can hear” “Singularities?” “Black Holes like Nero” “Oh… Wait then How can you hear it?” “….I’ll tell you when you’re older”

“Oh Come on!!” Before Ari could argue further, the navigation dinged with the approach of another ship and Ariana focused once again on the controls, taking the ship out of cruise and searching for a visual confirmation.

Hevel had been correct in thinking the Echo would be cross with them for the abruptness of her waking, but the old vessel responded to the dæ’s guidance as readily as ever, as if understanding the urgency Hevel themself was still uncertain about. Thankful and determined to appease the ship’s core spirit, the dæ had hung a delicate chime by one of the air circulation vents, filling the cabin spaces with an endless stream of quiet, clear notes. The sole other occupant—a young dæ pilot just into their lines—sat quietly beneath the chimes in silent awe at travelling in what was for all purposes a relic of bygone glory.

Though Hevel’s estimated time frame to meeting up with Ariana’s borrowed vessel had been fairly broad, it proved conservative as the Echo pinged their awareness via her control diadem to an approaching contact with familiar identification codes at barely under and hour.

Within Ariana’s borrowed ship a vaguely feminine, slightly tinny voice would sound with clipped, artificially modulated words, as one speck of light outside the viewing ports grew into a shape of pale starmetal and gold with delicate force-field wings, shifting from a sleek and almost fish-like shape to something more akin to a conventional sailing vessel.

This is the Echo of Lost Light, here to exchange personnel with FTL star-skimmer 02145. Please cut your engines and prepare for temporary docking.

A careful pause in the spring of memories that poured out in such a rapid flood previously. Her presence curled close to theirs, taking in the reassurance from the memory shared. The warmth and kindness in it seeming to connect dots of a bond that had become quite close. A bond that was taught, perhaps strained, but not yet broken. There was a sense of awe to see one’s mind and self from the perspective of another.

Carefully Seraphina let memories begin to wash forward again. The period in the Golden Age was… complicated. Woven emotions of apathy towards society, but incredibly strong attachments to individuals. A beacon of an ideal and goal to pursue with a hyper fixation and focus. Slowly threads of thought of rationalizing feelings, subtle manipulations for paths and resources to be available, a young woman who used her position to her advantage to understand things not just anyone should of.

A calm and soothing exterior obscured a brewing tempest with naivety and innocence. To understand the loss of her family so fully she had a picture of war only some of the most informed could have ever known. Which was incredibly few.

But the impassive calculations began to thaw in the warm companionship with the dae child, and under the tutelage of the Captain of the Guard. By the time the memories shifted from the palace walls and seclusion from the public eye and into the energy and excitement of the Star Pilot Academy, there had been a noticeable change. Less of a contained and restrained storm that held most in a distant manner. She had felt like a square being forced into the space of a circle, gaps in spaces, and tightly crammed. Displeased, grappling with a reality where the hope of her family had been an extinguished flame. Her connection to three people, Hevel, Noah, and Nightlight, had stoked a soft flame that grew more vibrant with determination and vigor.

The Academy was a decision that was pressed by herself, an idea of freedom and paving her own life, not dictated by anyone but herself, if she could help it. There was still that determined oath of when she had left that broken reef, it was North on the compass that guided her life.

In the Academy, the memories were focused on the unique academic studies of the Pilots. Many assumed it was a militaristic training, but there was a great deal more academic study and experiences that went into it. The combat training was a necessary side to being capable in the field. Her path had been to pursue the exploration of space. While with her friends there was little conversation on what she did or learned the memories showed how dedicated and focused she was in all aspects of the study. The combat and survival training something she heavily applied herself to.

Again, these memories were clips of images, emotions tied to certain pieces, and clarity around the details that were of most importance. The young woman became sharpened around the edges, shaped by the trials, and struggles of the new experiences she delved into. Balanced by a tender affection of the attachments she formed.

There was a sense of hesitation as a thread of memory glowed red, and a complicated series of emotions swirled about it.

It was humbling to experience what Hevel could only faintly recall themself from Seraphina’s point of view—to truly learn just how much something seemingly innocuous like friendship could do. A warm, soft emotion swirled in response to the memory, though eventually giving way to more nuanced feelings—half-remembered recollections of worry, of frustration.

An impossible wish to follow her where she’d gone. Impotent anger and frustration at the impossibility of what had seemed like such a simple thing. Quiet rebellion in learning the defensive arts of the dæ not out of necessity of a dangerous world but a desire to stand beside.

Stubborn dismissal of the concerns of the collective. The first and only political move Hevel had made by themself in the court, to ensure they could not be easily recalled to Sextans as ‘dangerously influenced by the outside’.

Resentment fading to wistfulness and eventual resigned contentment as they learned they could stand beside Seraphina in ways other than physical at least.

A blooming curiosity at the memory that wasn’t quite shared, at the knot of emotions surrounding it.

“Two Hours??” the infamous Arian impatience reared it’s head as the starskimmer roared to life, instantly starting to regret not going with the black hole.  “If I meet you halfway, would that help?” she offered, trying to quickly map trajectories and relative locations (not her strong suit but she knew enough…) as she zoomed to the borrowed ship.

“The skimmer you were provided with is faster across short distances, so yes. Just take the most direct course back and I will hail you as we meet.”

Truthfully, most of the delay would come from waking up the vessel Hevel had decided as their best option, the Echo of Lost Light uniquely suited for the current hurry but long unused as it could not fit everything required for more formal trips. Still, they should be already on the move on meeting up with Ariana—a mental nudge called for an extra pilot to ready themselves and head for the private hangar for the purpose of bringing back the skimmer as the constellation lords would continue onward.

“I don’t know who could make such a decision. It seems more like a force of nature in the cosmos would have to do, and such things do not choose what does and does not get sacrificed.“

Seraphina tilted her head, starring at Hevel as they explained the prototype. She imagined it in her mind’s eye, curious.

“What kind of shield? What would it serve?“ she asked curiously, Hevel always had something unique up their sleeves as far as inventions go.

Hevel hesitated for a moment—how much was it okay to speak of the shields? They were a creation of Exalted Anat, likely to be the culmination of their life. But should they work as intended, swift implementation across the empire might save untold lives, and it wasn’t like no one had been informed of the concept.

“It is a... planetary barrier system, in a sense. It would gather energy from the central star and from the core of the planet and store it. On activation, it would theoretically form a protective bubble in the upper atmosphere That lets nothing with a physical presence through.”

The memories Hevel shared soothed the sharp ebb of pain that became poignantly present in the oldest, faintest memories of when she had been but a child. The resonating feelings from them that brushed against hers was a heavy weight within her. This shared moment rolled in with the next wave of memories.

The memory of cosmic winds buffeting the small star skiff, eventually fading into a state of sleep when time and energy faded completely. Awaking to a tower made from a comet, furnished in an unfamiliar style. An expansive library. A reef on the broken comet, with so much life flourishing from corals to animals. Stars twinkling brightly in this pocket oasis of space.

A face in the stars, a kind voice, tender affection. Called daughter to an old Titan. These memories passed quickly, her age developing seeming to be the only passage of time. Instead of an old constellation, this entity took a physical form, something to represent something she was familiar with. A father, simple clothes, eyes open to a cosmos beyond, a gentle but firm tone. Affirming his affections for her, promising that one day her father might find her. Reassurance cultivated love, too much of it, as she grew older it felt superficial, pacifying her pain and trying to replace something she could never let go of.

Let those feelings go, and be apart of the stars. An infused ideal to become a star, or something even more. To fix the oversaturation of the devouring darkness. Crusades of Light championing against the abominations of the Dark. Righteous acts, mighty power. The Might of a Titan was a hopeful path.

Her attention turned to this, seeking to learn from this old Titan it’s secrets. She had her purpose, and she only needed them for so long. Tension grew as she aged, he laughed at her, called her naive. Words of love became condescending and confining. He promised to teach her more as she got older, so she did not overexert herself too soon.

Anger and descent bubbled within her heart as she began to hone her skills with the storms that bent to her emotions. How to use those emotions to manifest these winds and storms. Raw, violent, she had enough of these feelings to work with. Ever watched, nothing she did was ever unseen no matter how much she tried to hide from Typhan. The library held many secrets, a language she could not understand but began to learn, the topics faint now but some seemed incredibly important and guarded heavily by the Titan themselves.

He became absent, withdrawing from her frustrated outbursts as he withheld his teachings and affection altogether. Discipline, a hard correction would eventually draw her close. Confined to the tower, away from her little skiff and the reef, unable to touch the winds or the storms. Just her few books, various little treasures, and a telescope.

Loneliness, unloved, abandoned.

Why had no one come for her? Why was she not found? Why did Typhan promise something that was not kept?

Why did the universe hate her so?

Raw emotions saw memories twist and turn, what was factual and felt was blurred. A storm perpetually brewed around the tower, a shield from the ever-watching eyes of Typhan.

Time passed slowly in that tower room. A memory of a ship in the lens of the telescope, a big vessel carrying passengers. People, hope. A rush to try and hail them, the attempt halted and dashed by a hand that had once sheltered and cared. Now it only sought to imprison and hoard.

“You will never be found, I will not let you go. You are my daughter, and you will stay here, with me, forever.“

She struggled, and she broke. A lie, all this time. No one would ever find her as long as he kept her hidden. A scream and the whole tower shook with the painful cry. A cosmic maelstrom burst forth. Swirling like a deadly cyclone with betrayal and rage. The comet broke apart, the reef dashed, the ship and it’s passengers sucked in, all life doomed. Because of HIM.

In this catastrophic storm, the memories were crystal clear with the overwhelming emotion to tear the Titan apart. How it tried, how she tried to destroy this old Constellation Titan. It was stubborn and unable to break apart more than it was. But imprison… imprison him, don’t let him escape, and don’t let him have you. Her will became stronger than his, an encasement the size of a large moon as the maelstrom pulled comets, asteroids and other solid mass to its center. Grey, solid, the main body of stars that had been Typhan locked away. The tower remained, broken, somehow a skiff of that vessel remained lodged in its roof.

Silence. Stillness. Her heart ached, but numbness took her. Energy drained as she collapsed on the broken tower. She wanted to die, but there was this vibrant thread of defiance. Eventually, she pulled herself together, gathered supplies, a map, her telescope, and a sextant to traverse the stars.

She would return to the world she had been kept from for so long. A young adolescent now, no longer a child to be sheltered. Find a way to end Typhan entirely, and remove the Darkness that had taken her family from her. Hope was a thin fragment, but it grew stronger the closer to the Light of the Empire that she drew, further away from Typhan, and from the disaster she had wrought.

The memories served were... new. The time of Seraphina’s first disappearance laid bare, seen as she saw it, and sweeping Hevel’s mind along in a way that allowed for little response.

There was wonder, for the presence and fondness of an Ancient. A Titan—so few and far between even then. For the oasis she had found herself in after her nightmare.

A slow fading of wonder to growing unease as time passed. What is the experience of a growing child but a blink of an eye for a celestial—unease growing to apprehension at the lessons and infusions for... apotheosis. Presentation of something unnatural as a logical course of action. Hubris that saw little worth in what nature has granted.

Concern and worry spiking at her path of anger. At the abandonment, at the destruction she chose as the path of her power—a power the dæ could not truly comprehend but instinctively knew as life, not death.

A rare surge of anger at her entrapment. At the twistedness, the corruption of the Titan. Fear, though not of her, but for her.

Pain, in a faint, pale echo of hers. Sorrow for what the Constellation had done to her, made of her. Something pure twisted into a weapon even as she struggled to not be wielded as he’d willed.

And yet...

The young dæ wasn’t sure why their mother had chosen to send them away to learn the workings of the court from the Lunanoffs. Why they had to live within their circle, away from others of their kin, for an unknown time. Their mother knew well Hevel had no real interest in that which took place outside the vast reaches of the Sextant.

The floor was cool beneath their bare feet, the lights too bright. The hallways unfamiliar and echoing in odd ways. The room the aide led them in was darker in places, but with wide widows letting in light. The faint, controlled presence of a guard unobtrusively in a corner. There was carpet that softened footfalls and gentled echoes. Most importantly, there was the one they were to be introduced to. The ward of the Lunanoffs.

Silhouetted against the light of a window, book in her hands. The impression of a mind like a carved, delicate box, kept shut with a mass of heavy, cold locks. Singed, in places so severely one might see nothing but iron and soot.

And yet.

She wasn’t the kind who could close away her mind. There was pain, there was hatred, there was despair and anger and boiling apathy threatening to consume it all. But most importantly, in the midst of it all, there was a spark. A tiny, unwavering droplet of light. The smallest bud of a flower.

Her head tilted towards them, her focus finally settling on the bond they shared, letting her emotions, feelings, experiences filter through. Some with more clarity than others, focusing on the most present mission she’d returned from. She subdued the memory of the pain she had felt, the surprise of being overtaken by the creature. As well as the other risks and dangers are she had faced, only focusing on the thrill and rush. Her level headed decisions regardless of the risks taken, and how effective it was. The mission had been a success, with new sights to see, and data to provide back. She was good at what she did as a pilot.

The young pilot chuckled, nodding her head. “I think at some point you will need to take a sabbatical from all your responsibilities then. I will happily take you on an exploration venture to some of these places I’ve seen.”

She linked her arm with theirs, her gaze turned up towards the stars. “Truly, there are some beautiful places and creatures you would be inspired by Hevel. So many natural things that I can imagine you seeing and being able to craft something that does what they do… Imagine the opportunities and the creativity.”

It wasn’t hard to tell Seraphina was downplaying the negative aspects of her encounter, but such was her habit as Hevel knew well. The wonder and excitement were just as real regardless of what surrounded them.

“I would love that.”

A getaway with the two of them, even if only in areas deemed safe for travel, could be a delight. No rush, no responsibilities, and the endless vistas of space stretching before them with countless sights to see and places to explore.

The young dæ chuckled, mind radiating fondness.

💋: Where did they have their first kiss? Do they remember who it was with?

Hevel’s first kiss was... not a significant one, in the long run. An experimentation with strange, unfamiliar emotions in a foreign place. They cared little for it at the time, and eventually forgot the entire matter - as anything they had felt was merely a reflection of the other, and that, too, had been based on fascination with difference.

But then, Hevel has never been one to put too much value on firsts.

✘: Who do they detest the most? Do they typically avoid this person or antagonize them?

There is no one, no thing, that Hevel despises and fears more than the Nightmare King. The destroyer of their home. The murderer of their parents. The very stuff of their darkest nightmares.

Hevel doesn’t know what became of the Nightmare king, nor do they wish to. The less they have to face the memory of their worst nightmare the better.

💔: Have they ever had their heart broken? If so, why or how did it happen?

Hevel has had their heart broken several times, in various ways, though the first time may well be the most significant for their character. They were adamant to not voice their fondness of the person in question then until they could do so with a gift worthy of them, but ultimately they waited too long.