paradox

all he wants to do is bury himself in some work, keep himself distracted so he doesn’t drift off into that strange trance of his where he simply stops. it’s going well -- after all, not many people come into the bigger study and he’s actually getting work done. at least, until he...steps into something weird. steps, being the unusual keyword. he just wants a data-scroll, damn it.

a cold spot smack in the middle of the study room. a chill that spreads throughout his body, a chill so vastly different from the void he isn’t sure what to make of it. it’s gone as fast as he walks but he takes pause -- this isn’t coming from the mountain, the natural cold of it does not bother him in the slightest -- and he turns back, facing where he presumes the spot to be. and sticks his arm out into it.

in the event that the iron lords and wolves survived the SIVA crisis and still live within the iron temple of felwinter peak, praedyth will be unable to acknowledge them.

among the timestreams of the vex, the death of the lords and wolves is a fixed point in time -- no matter the situation, no matter the caution taken, they would all perish at the hands of SIVA. due to bypassing this fixed point, praedyth’s paradox ( inadvertently meaning praedyth himself ) does not acknowledge the living iron lords and wolves as living. this means that praedyth cannot see them save for lord saladin and lady efrideet.

lest they are to be in contact with an organic that is purposefully living, they will remain invisible to praedyth yet they can still see him. both parties cannot come into physical contact with each other, instead phasing through the other and causing chills to run through them both -- an unpleasant experience, one that also confuses praedyth whenever it happens until he discovers exactly why it happens.

praedyth currently lingers around felwinter peak in the iron temple with lord saladin and the new generation of iron lords. he offered his services in that he assists in planning strikes against siva and other related forces by using his “precognitive” abilities to come up with possibilities of future assaults and helping everyone plan accordingly without worrying them about the little details that come with time being something to keep a watchful eye on.

he specifically takes up residence in the old studies, looking over old research and texts from bygone times, cross-referencing to his journal and memories to find any other leads that he seems to only understand. if asked about his research, he’ll simply wave off the asker without a second thought as to who it may be.

it’s been a little over a year since praedyth’s escape from the vault of glass and his paradox. he has been recovering at a very moderate pace though still retains a personality of timidness and unsureness around strangers. he seems to have also retained some of his sarcasm and sass, this usually only comes into play when someone disturbs him from, what he deems, extremely important work or when he is in deep thought / meditation.

he has taken up a habit of receding daily from social interaction -- a key component to his recovery as it allows him to relax, remember, and reorganize his thoughts and reassert his mind and light from the paradox that tempts him back. being allowed to meditate in this fashion, praedyth may then provide assistance to those he deems necessary and in need of his visions and memories. he keeps his glass journal on hand but finds that sometimes it’s better to have himself temporarily disassociate from the world.

“ that... doesn’t ( didn’t, won’t, hadn’t ) make any sense... ” he remarks slowly as though testing the ice. the newer, younger guardians, they’re so vastly different, so much more carefree, praedyth can’t help but be wary of their volatile personalities.

as much as praedyth is aware that that is most likely not the real oryx, the sword alone already intimidates him further into the corner he’s burrowed himself in. he casts an uneasy glance at the “taken” guardians next to him before looking back at the costumed giant and timidly shaking his head, followed by a very very quiet, “ no, thank you. ” 

The Warlock moved slightly when he felt fingers carding through his hair and he lookedup curiously —- partly cautious —- and was pleased to find Laine next to him, a largebouquet of flowers accompanying her. 

His hands reach up slowly when he feels a light weight on his head, carefully circlingthe precarious arrangement of flowers, a small smile forming, before he turns to addressthe Hunter that had presented the pretty little gift.

He’s practically scrubbing at his eyes now, taking a deep shaky breath in before sighing,one hand reaching for his sniper rifle as he looks at the bulky armored man, managingto mutter out,

         [ ‘ It’s fine-- People don’t usually even come near me. ’ ]