PUPPETEER

   “Does the effigy have a mind of its own?” It is a question he always wanted to ask of a Chroma, though most of the time those walking with the brooding dragons thought themselves too stoic to be bothered with answering. “I mean, it probably doesn’t.. but I wanna know.”

   Paetgeon thought he was good at hiding away the moments when nightmares came crawling, ripping his mind to shreds with vivid recollection, or times passed where small motions made him flinch out of expectancy. In truth anyone that looked upon the youth for long enough could see without doubt that something was wrong. The only reason he felt that he had gotten away with it up to this point was the lack of anyone who cared. 

   Transference is tempting now. Ignis could not see how he reacted then, while hidden within sickly flesh-metal. No one would be able to. A faceless entity of carnage- that is all he had been for so long that anything else was nothing short of terrifying. It was easier before. Paetgeon was told what to do, where to do it, when to leave. Independence had been a pure unknown and now that he had a taste everything shattered and he was left lost to his own devices. It had not helped either when the only guide for any of them left without reason. A false parental that abandoned them to endless war. 

   The Tenno is not certain when the pinpricks of tears had begun to form in the creases of his eyes and he nods slow, a measured movement to keep himself steady. One that isn’t working. He notices only after the streaks wet his face that he had started crying. A sleeve decorated with gold raises to wipe away the tears and all that can be managed is a small nod, gaze dropping away from Ignis.

   Even now he is adrift within the unknown despite for the first time in his long life having ever felt safe. Paetgeon cannot be sure what to do with himself now. Part of his mind wants to go back to hiding- he is good that. To cope was to run, to kill, to maim and toy with the dead. As grotesque as those activities were they also let the Tenno survive not only in body but mind. Distractions that took every ounce of focus. 

   But they won’t work here. Every since arriving the weapons had been stowed away and unused. It felt so wrong too, being vulnerable as he was, even though the Warframe stood watch just out of view. 

     doesn’t  know—  oh…  oh  dear.  they’ve  had  their  fair  shares  of  strange  encounters  with  people  from  other  worlds.  this  must  be  what  this  is,  then.  perhaps  some  ACCIDENT  on  the  other’s  side  sent  them  here.  it  would  make  SENSE,  of  course.  of  course,  this  wouldn’t  be  like  the  others,  because  they’re  never  the  same.

     ❝  your  cephalon—  ❞   a  head  of  an  arthropod?—   ❝  is  correct  in  not  giving  you  an  answer.  this  is  eos.  i’ve  never  heard  of  “earth”  or  “lua”.  although,  i  have  a  theory  already  that  you  must  not  be  from  this…  area  of  the  universe.  ❞   he  understands  the  CONFUSION  now.

     he’s  seen  a  lot  of  things  lately,  from  living  gods  to  his  very  own  prince  wielding  MAGIC,  something  hardly  anyone  knows  MUCH  about.  surely  ALIENS  shouldn’t  be  a  far - fetch.  it  would  explain  the  newcomer’s  APPEARANCE  quite  nicely.  he  doubts  something  so  kind  yet  so  intimidating  would  be  created(?)  here  on  eos.

   Eos. He mulls over the name and thinks about the potential that had been the Tau system. There is no way this planet could be there, though. The Orokin had been so certain nothing and no one were already living there before sending the awful machines to transform planets into livable habitats. It was the only place even relatively close to them so just where was he in the universe, now? 

   Shifting from foot to and head turning just enough to suggest his gaze has moved elsewhere, Paetgeon is looking at the others of the party. People. Dangerous people, apparently, though protectors too if he had to guess. “You might be correct. I didn’t even know there were other places that had.. well, people, beyond where I am from.” 

   Time had passed faster than he realized. A handful of months and the Tenno grew comfortable in the new surroundings as best he could. Though, what was becoming apparent quickly is that staying in his Nekros forever was not something that could be achieved. Phantom muscles and bones ache from lack of use- he hasn’t been in the Warframe for such a stretch of time in years. 

   Paetgeon finds himself in a moment of disarray, while it could be easy to wander off and use transference well out of sight for a few minutes in the least, perhaps simply unveiling the secret was better in the long run. There is no foreseeable way for him to return to the Origin System anyways. 

   He’d gotten Ignis’s attention without much effort (something that the Tenno never realized before that brought a feeling of delight to him) with only a statement. ‘I want to show you something’. There is no backing out of it now. Plenty of tricks could be played and specters shown but the one true ruse was far bigger than fleshy ghosts ever could hope. 

     his  attention  is  grabbed  immediately  when  they  talk,  takes  a  step  forward  whispering  he’ll  take  care  of  this.   (  he’s  better  at  TALKING,  than  the  others  when  it  comes  to  tense  situations  as  this.  )   ❝  i  must  apologize  on  my  charge’s  behalf.  you…  look  rather  much  like  a  daemon,  they  only  come  out  at  night  and  as  you  can  see  it’s  dark  out.  we  jumped  to  conclusions.  ❞

     a  brief  pause  as  he  inspected  the  other  closer.  not  a  daemon  from  the  looks  of  it,  the  flesh  looks  rather  much  like  metal  and  is  SYNTHETIC  in  nature,  unlike  the  hard  cartilage  that  surrounds  most  daemons.  similar  to  that  of  iron  giants,  perhaps,  but  more…  hm.  flexible?

     not  only  that  but  they  sound  YOUNG.   ❝  if  you  don’t  mind  my  asking,  where  are  you  from?  surely  not  here.  otherwise  you  wouldn’t  be  out  here  so  late.  ❞   which,  speaking  of,  they  should  find  a  haven  soon.

   A step back is taken in turn of the one towards him, more than ready to leap away again should they instead decide his words are not enough to merit civil conversation. Though not a moment later is he proved wrong, yet still unable to relax, he has been around too long now to find himself at ease by mere words alone. 

   “I uh.. I don’t think I know what that is,” he says, offering an almost nervous chuckle. Many had called him and his kind something similar before. It was not a kind name for what had happened, but then again, most all had no clue what made them as they were. “Sorry for causing issues.” 

     he’s  not  seen  a  daemon  quite  like  this  one.  it  SEEMS  to  be  similar  to  the  gargoyles  they’ve  faced  time  after  time  when  they  stayed  out  far  too  late,  but  there’s  something…  inherently  OFF  about  it.  perhaps  the  ectoplasma  that  seems  to  float  around  its  body,  or  how  HUMANOID  its  movements  are.

     or  that  it  isn’t  fighting  back.  which,  frankly,  should  be  some  kind  of  signal.  but  noctis  already  went  headfirst  into  battle,  warping  to  the  foe  before  he  can  get  a  chance  to  grab  his  wrist  and  ask  him  to  THINK  about  this  battle  first.  and—  dammit.

     it’s  jumping  around  fluidly,  avoiding  all  their  attacks  and  perhaps  they  should  REGROUP  before  this  continues  on  and  they’re  too  tired  to  do  anything  else.   ❝  everyone  to  me,  we need  to  regroup!  ❞   he  eyes  the  entity  warily  as  it  continues  to  avoid  and  dodge  their  attacks  and  notes  how  it’s  far  more  INTELLIGENT  than  any  daemon  they’ve  faced.   (  which  begs  the  question  on  if  it’s  even  a  daemon  in  the  first  place.  )

   A silent woah had been uttered when there was suddenly someone before him, one who was decidedly unfriendly despite his best efforts to try and be as non-threatening as possible. Bullet jumping had always been his one true ally and that proves to be the same here, in a world so very different from his own, from one spot to another with grace almost unfitting given the spindly appearance his Frame held. 

   Hearing the voice has his attention for a few seconds, motion paused and staring down at them from where he hangs partially off a rooftop. Okay, maybe now they will be open to talking? It couldn’t hurt to try. Paetgeon hopes so, at least. Stock still save for the minute motion of energy wisps twisting in the air, he lingers and watches, seconds ticking by.

   Void Gates were particularly temperamental, even before the creators were wiped out. Now the dangers presented are only enhanced by a greed driven faction unaware their own ruin was sitting seconds away. He’d gotten out and to the extraction point just before the collapse ripped apart the Orokin Tower, hands clinging to the innards of the Liset and mind just barely catching his Cehalon’s panic.

   It had been the last thing he recalled, and that was hours ago. Despite the protests of his vessel’s voice Paetgeon had departed upon learning they were thrown into uncharted territory, (reminiscent of home but less toxic) and overwhelming curiosity drove motion forward. 

     Stepping around the ejector seat, his hand takes the Nekros’ wrist to examine just how intertwined with its plating the para cord had become. He lets go to take a small section of cord and give it a light tug, doing so repeatedly with other lines; a test to see where the loose ends were. Finding one that could be pulled far enough away from Paetgeon’s arm, he slipped the knife beneath it to cut it in two. This action would continue for a handful of minutes, silent and methodical, until the leftovers could be pulled away without any effort.

     With a click, the knife collapsed and returned to its pouch, a couple of steps taken back to return their personal space. Only then could Trigger get a proper look at the foreign being, take in the details of its armor and what he assumed was skin. His mouth opened for a moment and then closed, not finding the proper words to form an inquiry or a statement quite yet. The ace’s mind was still frazzled from the crash, trying to figure out what to do next. With the threat of imminent death gone, the next challenge would be surviving in the wild. 

     Osea wouldn’t come looking for him, he sighed, there’d be no rescue. Once they saw the smoke if they arrived quick enough to scout the area he’d be marked as KIA. Fitting given his conviction; what did Bandog call it… atonement for his sins. There really wasn’t anywhere for him to go so he might as well stick to this stranger if they’ll let him right? Turning slightly to place a hand stop the back of the chair and speaks again…

        “ Thank you. “

   Paetgeon keeps his gaze down on the knife, form easing as moments tick on by where no hostile actions are made. In the light breeze wisps of energy decorating his Warframe dance about, fingers wiggling a little after the parachord is free and falls down into the grass below. He turns the limb over a few times again and then drops it to his side. 

   Now he is staring, hm. Rocking back on his heels as an almost nervous gesture there isn’t much that he can be sure to do. Even the grand engines attached to the small of his back seem to shift and change with motion of unease. There is no threat here but simple fact in being the world about him is so different than what he is familiar with. Hopefully others would be so kind. 

   Glancing down to the chair and then back to the stranger again, Paetgeon seems to perk up at the words. An internal smile forms and carries along within the voice projected by a mouthless face. “I should be thanking you for racing around with me.” A giddly little laugh to follow in the voice of an adolescent. “I am happy that you are alright, though.”