the forerunner

the ‘morph scurries forward a little bit, slow but sure, and then leans in, examining the map of the cold-place closely- apparently, little shapes he doesn’t understand make up its name as “Antarctica,” not that that means much to Praedor himself other than that it is not, in fact, just called the cold-place.

a moment later, Diaconus screeches faintly in his throat and draws one long finger side-ways along the map until he reaches the place where the signal is originating from- The Rogue guides his hand at least a little bit, its voice rumbling It comes from There; That is where you must go; the clues will be waiting There.

just like that, the two relative-aliens scurry in circle-shapes around each other for a moment-time, almost child-like in their glad-instincts at the advancement of their adventure-quest for The Voice’s place in the galaxy- then, Praedor begins to lope-walk across the snow, before dropping to all fours and chittering excitedly at Palmer-one.

despite being aware that the human-ally can’t understand the language of Neomorphs, he still feels the need to express-speak his excitement-instincts to the other-being- and, he feels, perhaps the happiness-emotions he feels are universal-feelings enough that Palmer-one will understand what he is express-speaking despite not being able to decipher the sound-speak the alien is using.

It looked like the two aliens knew where they were going and had a plan in mind - Palmer figured he’d let Praedor and his friend take the lead.  The dark alien in particular seemed to have a path in mind. He watched the two run in circles around each other, seeing that they seemed to be happy.

He smiled - seeing that they were happy made him happy in turn.

He wondered, vaguely, what the three of them were looking for. He guessed he’d find out so long as he followed the aliens’ trail. He had a few flares on him,  in case they ran into danger on the ice. This was unknown territory, and if it was connected to his alien visitors it might be guarded.

Palmer wasn’t much use in a fight, although he could hold his ground if he had no choice. He wondered what kind of unknown creatures lurked in the darkness - Praedor was a powerful predator, but he wasn’t invincible by any means. 

the Deacon is far more silent than his pale-relative, but just as action-expressive, in his own manner- he slowly turns his long-head towards the leg-walker that the Neomorph called ‘Palmer-one’ and examines him, taking his time, and slowly bobbing his long-head up-and-down, taking in the entirety of the human-one’s physicality.

he might be being analytical, if one could examine his mind-words at that moment-time, memory-cataloging important-things about Palmer-one that could potentially be of-use to the pair of alien-creatures later on at some point- he is not as immediately instinctually-trusting of someone as Praedor, and therefore is feels more wary-instincts about bringing the human-one along than the Neomorph does, despite his pale-relative’s vouching for the leg-walker.

at the very least, the flesh-one seems intelligent-minded (carrying something (smelling like the hot-dust that could become hot-light) good for defense-or-attack) in a way that the Deacon had been unaware of any life-things besides the ‘morph-species were- he had assumed his father-host, the pale-man, had been the last other smart-minded thing left in the entire-expanse of the void-place besides the bug-Hives.

the Neomorph is equally excited-feeling, seeing as he’s never known another pale-‘morph of any sort, only the concept of his pack-siblings who never grew-large enough to exit their egg-creatures- he stands on his hind legs a little bit and chitter-speaks his equal-feelings in response to the chirp-sounds from the Pale One, reaches out his hand-part and very gently brushes his long-fingers over the pale-hide it bears.

it is not like the Xenomorphs that Praedor has known in his lifetime-ages, but it is also not like him, not a Neomorph- and in that it is unique, so, in a strange way, with the lack of his own-species, they are each unique, and therefore similar.

They warble lightly as the other pale thing’s digits brush along their rough exoskeleton, marveling at the difference in their fingers and the feeling of their flesh. Pale One remains on all fours, even though the stranger, the kind stranger, has moved to a bipedal stance, having known nothing but forceful submission from their kin.

the Neomorph chitter-speaks an affirmative-answer, and also up-down bobs his long-head, mimicking a human’s nodding their head to confirm something- this is a relative of his, indeed, and though he has no manner of communicating Diaconus’ name to Palmer-one, he wants the human to at least be aware that he needs not have nervous-instincts about the presence of the Deacon.

but now comes the hard-part- communicating that he needs Palmer-one’s help in navigating the cold-place to find the sources of the signals buried underneath the ice, where The Rogue has told them to go and get their clues for its whereabouts, or, at least, begin the search in full.

then, he can feel the Deacon’s mind reach out, The Rogue’s presence a soft, flat sense in the back, and it communicate-not-speaks Need help following a signal in the ice- Praedor doesn’t know-instinct how Palmer-one will react to having Diaconus communicate-not-speak inside of his head-mind in such a rudimentary-manner, but he’s glad-instinct somebody found a way to communicate-not-speak the issue at hand to his human ally, at the very least.

words of The Rogue drift inside of his own head and tell him There may be danger at the signal; be careful; you are needed; do not die.

the Neomorph feels this is good advice- and he intends to follow it, keeping himself, Diaconus the Deacon, and Palmer-one all three alive through this adventure, no matter what danger may be awaiting them beneath the surface of the hard-cold in the far-distance.

So the strange creature was a friend of Praedor, and no threat to Palmer. They had come to him to ask for his help. Honestly, Palmer himself was kind of flattered by the gesture. It would be a long and hard trip - he returned with a bag full of bacon and water, enough for all three of them, as well as a map of Antarctica.

Palmer heard the creature’s suggestion in his head - he figured that Praedor and his friend at least had some idea of what they were looking for, and they just needed him to guide them. Luckily, he had a map of Antarctica with him, pulling it out to show it to them.

If he could get an idea of where the two aliens wanted to go, that would help him figure out a path from the outpost to the site under the ice that they needed to go to. Palmer had no idea what they would face there - were there creatures like Praedor lurking somewhere?  Was the site guarded in some way?

 If that was the case, he was glad that Praedor and his relative would be coming with him. They were much better fighters than he was, so he would let them take charge if things came to fighting.

a moment later, Diaconus screeches faintly in his throat and draws one long finger side-ways along the map until he reaches the place where the signal is originating from- The Rogue guides his hand at least a little bit, its voice rumbling It comes from There; That is where you must go; the clues will be waiting There.

just like that, the two relative-aliens scurry in circle-shapes around each other for a moment-time, almost child-like in their glad-instincts at the advancement of their adventure-quest for The Voice’s place in the galaxy- then, Praedor begins to lope-walk across the snow, before dropping to all fours and chittering excitedly at Palmer-one.