,,brain still stuck on the idea of my lil gs drifter back on the zariman for Isleweaver shit.
They've known *something* was wrong for so long, the ever worsening headaches and unexplainable nausea, vertigo knocking him off balance even from within a warframe. The mood swings, the mental fog, his vision starting to blur...
Worst of all, he just doesn't really feel joy anymore. Even when he's with the people he loves and cares about most, he just. Doesn't feel happy. Even contentment has been replaced with that looming offness that he can't put a finger on, and the nightmares. Oh. The nightmares. He's used to dreaming memories, but these don't feel quite the same.
At first he thinks it's him pushing himself much too far with Roathe, going down again and again and again and again and again until he's barely able to swim back up for air when it's over.
And then he gets a letter from Dominus Thrax. Mathila's utterly lost herself. Duviri is dying, the void spreading like a tumor through time and space, and Drifter is Duviri.
And now Drifter's on the Zariman. Alone, save Thrax. Last time he was here he'd run missions until he couldn't anymore, and then he'd drink himself into a blackout for the slightest chance of dreamless sleep.
They don't have that option this time. They can barely think around Thrax, all the progress and self discovery unwound in an instant every time he hears that voice, and they're right back where they were not so long ago when anything but absolute subservience ment agony.
And Thrax hasn't changed, nor has he quite internalized that the Drifter isn't being reset like he always was before, now requiring time to rest and eat. So he bids the drifter go, and fight, and the drifter goes and fights. Again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Until victories get slimmer and slimmer. Until they stop winning altogether.
Duviri is dying, and the only one who can do anything about it is growing worse by the day.
Something must break.
