#warframe fic

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In all his many, many years, Transference was one of the stranger sensations he had felt.

He could still feel his body, but he had no control over it. All he could do was watch like a passenger in his own skin as the Drifter lifted their now shared hand to his face, turning it over, clicking his silver nails together. Then they raised the other, more monstrous one.

"Bet this could do some damage," she said as she admired the large talon on his finger.

Suddenly, a flicker of cold heat spread over his consciousness. Then another, up what felt like his spine, and it dawned on him: he could feel the Drifter's void-touched presence, but only flashes of it. Like feeling the heat of a roaring fire through thick glass.

He wondered if he could break that glass. Feel the cold flames of the void, of her, wash over him.

"Come now, Drifter, we can do something more interesting than this," he crooned, though his voice was only in Drifter's mind. The two of them had been rather flirtatious lately, and in this state he hoped she would take the hint to take advantage.

"Yeah?" she asked with a lazy smile, the voice coming from his mouth her own. "How about this." She placed his hands on his thighs and leaned back in his chair. "Tell me to stop if it's too much."

She gripped his thighs, his clawed hands digging into his skin. Enough to mark but not enough to bleed. With his blue hand, she trailed his thumb on the inside of his thigh, silver nail circling wider and wider until it dipped under the edge of his loincloth for a moment.

His cock twitched. Whether it was from his or her arousal he couldn't tell, and that made it swell even more. He tried to let her know without words where exactly he wanted her to take his hand.

"Maybe not just yet," she replied with a breathy laugh. "How about this instead..."

Keeping his hand above the loincloth, she started palming his growing arousal through the fabric. Their breaths hitched as she traced the outline of him with a sharp claw, then grabbed him, hard.

"You can go under it, you know," he said, impatience growing.

"Hmm." She slid his hand over his hip, resting at the edge of the of the fabric. His fingers lingered.

"Go on," he urged.

She slipped under the cloth, hand gliding over and fingers tantalizingly close. Then she stopped.

"But what if the other two show up?"

"Let them see," he growled. His need was growing, heat low in his stomach.

"Ah, we can't do that," she said with a slight smile that got his attention. "We should quit here."

If he was in control of his mouth, he would have gritted his teeth.

"Drifter…"

The smile grew. She started moving his hand away

"Drifter!"

"That almost sounds like a beg, Roathe. Are you begging now?" That damned smile! Defiance swelled in him at the sight of it.

"I would never beg, Drifter."

Suddenly his world flashed, and that inferno smoldering just on the cusp of his consciousness disappeared, leaving behind emptiness.

The Drifter stood before him as he felt himself regain control of his body once more.

The shirt I wore wasn’t any better. The fabric was cropped up to the bottom of my ribcage, showing just a bit of my stomach. Just a bit of “eye candy,” as he put it. It would’ve been tolerable had it not been for the garish crystals plastered over the chest. A hundred or so tiny gems were glued to the front, making up a tacky sigil- a cross and wings. Sure, it definitely couldn't get any more eye-catching than that. 

“I’m telling you, once he gets a glimpse of these new threads, he’ll be falling to his knees.” Quincy offered me a self-assured smirk, his metallic arms crossed over his chest. He nodded to himself, admiring his handiwork. “Still don't know why you want to go for the cheap copy.”

I sighed, hearing him use that nickname again. Glancing at myself in the mirror once more - I wasn't sure either. My stomach turned itself in knots, mouth going dry as I played over scenarios in my head. Maybe Quincy was right- maybe he’d find this charming, alluring even- but I sure hope it was worth the trouble of putting this garish ensemble together. 

“Look, you better be right about this-”

“Relax, mate. Let the jeans do the talking, yeah?”

I swallowed down my anxieties, trying to ignore how my pulse pounded in my ears. What was there left to lose? If the KIM messages and late-night chatter didn’t get the point across, maybe it really was time to step it up a notch. 

I stepped away from the mirror, sick of mulling over my reflection. My attention turned to the sound of roaring engines and chatter in the garage. I glanced down at my wrist, eyes narrowing as I glanced over the plastic watch Quincy had given me. 

Right on schedule for arrival. 

I shuffled my way toward the garage, nearly tripping over the denim at my ankles. Right now would’ve been a good time for a shot or two…or three - but I doubt I could stomach letting flare see me like this. Biting the inside of my lip, I pushed past the doors. 

The smell of rot and diesel filled my senses. Voices echoed through the garage, footsteps slowly approaching. My pulse hastened as I heard his laugh- a rare occurrence, but that seemed to make it all the more special. 

I rocked my weight forward onto my toes, and back again, shoving my hands into my pockets. The soft chime of the POM-2-PC played over the speakers. Resting my hand on the mouse, I clicked onto the calendar icon- just a farce to feign normality. 

The echoing voices hushed in an instant, the soft thud of footsteps following suit. I glanced over my shoulder, heat rushing to my face as I felt my comrade’s eyes burning through me. 

“Did you stumble across a secondary school lost and found while you were out?” Lettie laughed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Heat rushed to my face, my pulse pounding in my ears. I pulled my hand away from the computer mouse, fingers trembling. All of a sudden, a pressure settled in my chest, knocking the breath from my lungs. 

Arthur parted his lips to speak, but no sound escaped. I turned, unable to bear whatever words he was about to say. The denim caught beneath my feet. Grunting, I kicked my legs, the seams bursting under the force. 

Gritting my teeth, I ran up the steps, my boots thudding against the linoleum. I pushed past concrete pillars, trudging toward the backroom. 

I undid the button at the front of the jeans, letting them fall to my feet. My gaze drifted across the concrete floor, settling on the rack of clothes at the far end of the room. My fingers curled underneath the hem of my shirt, sequins falling to the ground as I yanked it over my shoulders. I sifted through the rack, opting for a pair of baggy shorts and a t-shirt - scavenged from the ruins of the city. 

The stairs clattered beneath my feet as I climbed, knuckles blanching as I gripped the rail a bit too tight. I slipped inside the loft, reaching for the stack of CDs. I fiddled with the buttons of my sound system - a gift from Amir - blasting a heavy guitar riff over the speakers. I could feel the vibrations through the floor, rumbling in my chest like a pulse. It was just what I needed to drown out the embarrassment. 

I grabbed a case of beer - another scavenge from a mission. Using the edge of the conference table, I popped open the cap to one bottle. I brought the bottle to my lips, letting the acrid drink wash over my tongue. My lips tugged down into a frown, a sigh escaping me as I settled onto the couch.

At least I was alone. 

I tucked my knees to my chest, my head swaying to the beat of the music. With every sip of my drink, I could feel the heat coursing through my veins. Sure, the buzz took my mind off of it, but I could still see the look of pity on his face. The way his brows furrowed, lips pursing into a thin line before parting to speak. 

Groaning, I grabbed another bottle, digging the cap into the arm of the couch until it cracked open. Warmth spread over the back of my throat as I took a swig. But I didn’t stop there - I took another, drinking down every gulp I could get like it was precious- and maybe it was. 

The music went silent. Furrowing my brows, I turned around. Leaning in the doorframe was Arthur, acting as nonchalant as could be. His arms crossed over his chest. His glare pierced through me, eyes narrowing as he parted his lips to speak. 

“What was that about?” He asked, his metallic fingers tapping against his arm. 

I slumped down further into the couch, a grumble slipping from my chest. The empty bottle clattered as I set it on the floor. I turned onto my side, facing away from him. I heard the floorboards squeak underneath his feet as he moved closer. 

“Don't remind me,” I sighed. 

He reached out, letting his hand rest on my shoulder. In any other situation, I would’ve welcomed his touch, relished in it like a ray of sunlight, but now I could only grit my teeth. My heart pounded in my ears, muffling his voice as he spoke. 

“I can’t have you in top condition if there’s something going on, drifter.”

I pursed my lips, biting back a confession. I don’t know if I could stomach a rejection. His thumb softly stroked my skin, a feeling I could sink into. My stomach fluttered, heat rushing to my face. 

“I wanted to impress you.” The words left me faster than I could hold them in. My mouth went dry. I sat up, rushing to turn around to face him. He pursed his lips, his nose scrunching up. His gaze drifted across my face, searching for meaning behind the words. 

“You-“ he paused, taking a step forward. “I've seen you take down squads of scaldra. Why wouldn’t I be impressed?”

I bit the inside of my lip, taking in his sharp features once more. A sinking feeling in my stomach told me it might be the last time I see it. Could I really face him after rejection? Those piercing eyes would only serve as a reminder of what could’ve been. 

“Not like that…” The words faltered on my tongue. I drew in a deep breath through my nose, gathering what was left of my ego. “Arthur, I have feelings for you.”

“Oh,” was all he could manage to say. A wave of nausea hit me, swelling in my throat. Tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill. “I need to think some things over.” He turned, his hands balling into fists. 

“Please,” I stood, reaching forward to grab his wrist. “Just tell me you don’t want this. I don’t think I can stomach -”

He surged forward, his lips meeting mine in a soft kiss. My heart fluttered in my chest, heat coursing through my veins. I felt his fingertips brush along my chin, his palm cradling my face- a stark contrast from his rough exterior. 

“Don't put words in my mouth,” he muttered against my lips. 

I pulled away, sighing with relief. I couldn’t help the smile that crept across my face. All the insecurity mucking up my concentration fled in that moment. 

“How long?” He asked, moving past me to sit on the couch. I followed, taking a seat next to him- not too close. There was still a part of me that hoped this moment wouldn’t break, hoped it wasn’t a cruel joke. 

“If I said it was when you stabbed me in the hand, would you believe me?” I draped my arm over the back of the couch, resting my chin in my hand. He laughed, a sweet song I could listen to on repeat. 

“I’d question your choice in men.” He said, lips curling up into a soft smile. “What was it? My…charming looks?” His smile faded into a grimace, face scrunching up at his own words. “Sorry, I'll never say that again.”

“I can’t deny it,” I tucked my knees up, my leg brushing against his. Even from a foot away, I could feel warmth radiating from him. It was magnetic, enticing. “But when I first looked at you, I saw someone who could understand me, someone who’s been through their own hell.”

He leaned in, his palm stroking my cheek. Even the metal and cartilage couldn’t take away from how soft his touch was. I rested my hand on his wrist, leaning into his touch. 

“Well, for what it's worth, you’re out of there now.” His voice was just above a whisper, quiet and comforting like a cat’s purr. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

My lips found his once more, meeting in a tender kiss. Our lips moved against each other’s like a rehearsed dance, slow and gentle. I looped my arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. I couldn’t get enough, I needed to feel him, sink into the weight of his embrace, bask in his warmth. His touch felt like the closest thing to home- inviting. 

His fingertips teased along my thigh. My body jolted, tensing under his touch. I could feel my heart quicken, pounding hard against my chest. He pulled away, his hand following suit. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it's fine. I'm just a bit skittish.” I grabbed his wrist, tugging his hand back to my thigh. His fingers tensed, skating over my skin. I leaned close, pressing my forehead against his. “I have a stupid question…”

“And I might have a stupid answer.”

I caught my lip between my teeth, biting down as I gathered my words.

“Underneath that…” my tongue faltered. “Do you…you know…”

“You asking me to strip for you?” The corners of his lips perked up into a crooked smile. Heat pooled between my legs, arousal settling between my hips.

“What if I was?” 

His fingers slipped under the straps at his shoulders, pulling them over his head. The gear clattered as he dropped it on the rug. His palms smoothed down his inner thighs, undoing the buckles around his legs. The holster fell from his waist, falling onto the ground. 

“It’s not a pretty sight…” he sighed, his thumbs moving under his cuirass. 

“I want to see,” I placed my hand over his. “It’s you, and that’s what matters.”

His breath hitched, fingers trembling as he pulled the armor from his body. It was thick, still warm from contact- held into place by a force beyond my comprehension. The plate extended down past his navel, soft like cartilage- no doubt the infestations work. He let the plate hang at his pelvis, now nimbly working at his brigandine. Beneath the armor was soft, scarred flesh. Him. Letting my eyes glance over his scars, I could feel the stories buried within the thin white lines. 

The plating ran down the underside of his arms, areas left untouched by Entrati’s hand. I couldn’t help but remember Eleanor's words, that he was tough on the outside with a squishy underside- maybe she meant that literally too.

He set the plates beside his gear- a vulnerability I didn’t think I'd ever witness. My focus was drawn back to his hands, now working on his Cuisse. The plate traveled down his thighs, ending right above the knee. I took in every inch of skin he showed like it was an offering- something sacred. 

“Well, there it is,” he sighed, eyes now fixated on mine. 

“That’s not it, though, is it?” I said, pointing to the plate still hanging from his hip, covering up the last bit of decency he had.

“If you get me riled up now, I don’t think I'll be able to stop.” His voice rumbled deep in his chest, his pupil dilating, swallowing up every bit of ochre in his eyes.

“Maybe I don’t want you to stop,” I cooed, my fingers running over the exposed skin on his arms. “I trust you, Arthur.” A breathy sound left his lips. His hand reached out, cradling my cheek in his palm. I leaned into his touch, pressing a kiss against his inner wrist- even if it was taken over by metal, it was still him. 

Pulling away, he kept his eyes on me as he reached behind to tug at the plate just above his sacrum. Lifting his hips, he pulled the piece through his legs, his stiff cock finally free from the confines of the armor. 

I sat back, taking a moment to admire his form. Patches of cartilage and something akin to scar tissue ran up his sides, subsuming his limbs. It was Entrati’s work, tainting his skin with infestation and metal. His neck was engulfed, tendrils running down to his collarbones. His thighs fared the same fate, projections jetting out from his outer thigh, and more of the tissue spreading up his femoral artery. His cock- flushed and dripping- was spared, save for a few tendrils running up his shaft. 

“You know, it’s rude to stare.” He said in a lighthearted tone. 

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “You’re just…beautiful.”

And I meant it. Not even techrot could taint that. I pushed my hand against his chest, urging him to lie against the cushions. He let his head rest against the arm of the couch, his eyes glimmering with hunger. I leaned close, pressing my chest against his as I kissed along his jawline. I kissed over the ridges; the metal encroaching on his features, letting my lips drift lower. I could feel his pulse- his carotid artery pulsing with every heartbeat. I sank my teeth into his skin, gentle enough not to draw blood, but hard enough for him to feel it through the infestation. A breathy moan fell from his tongue, his hands settling on my shoulders. 

I pulled away, glancing up at him once more. His face was flushed with arousal, a deep blush casting over his features. This was a look I could get used to - like he was begging to be taken apart. 

My lips met his chest, tracing along the scars on his skin. I swiped my tongue over his nipple, drinking in the reaction he gave me- a breathy noise and a twitch of his fingers. My lips traveled lower, over his ribs and down his stomach. His breaths grew heavier, anticipation building inside his chest with every soft peck of my lips. 

I pulled away, settling onto my stomach- my attention now focused on his thighs. I kissed along his inner thigh, his skin soft and unmarred, letting my teeth sink into his skin- gentler this time. My tongue soothed over the marks, tracing along the teeth marks in his skin. Soft licks and kisses soon turned to harsh sucks that were sure to leave behind marks. Good- it meant nobody else could have him like this- with his face flushed and his stiff cock dripping. 

I wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock, my tongue running along the underside of his cock. He twitched in my grasp, a deep noise rumbling in his chest. I swirled my tongue around his cockhead before slipping it past my lips. My eyes fluttered closed as I took another inch into my mouth, flattening my tongue along the underside of his cock. 

A soft moan left his lips. His fingers tangled in my hair, gripping my locks tight. He let his head fall back against the armrest, eyes fluttering closed as he sank into the feeling of my mouth. I bobbed my head back and forth, nudging his cockhead deeper into my mouth. His hips rutted forward, another noise leaving his chest. Humming, I laid my arm over his hips, my other hand stroking him in sync with my lips.

“Sol, I don’t think I'll last long if you keep this up,” he grunted.

I pulled off with a soft pop, locking eyes with him. I parted my lips, sticking my tongue out. Tensing my grip on the base of his cock, I tapped his cockhead against my tongue. Another moan rumbled deep in his chest- his eyes filled with hunger. 

“Such a tease,” he clicked his tongue. His fingers ran down my cheek, grasping my chin.

“Maybe I am,” I seized my lip between my teeth, biting down.

“Don’t think it's very chivalrous of me to come first - and I've been dying to know what you’ve got hiding under those clothes.”

“Now, you’re the one asking me to strip.” I sat up, pulling the hem of my shirt over my head. His eyes took in every bit of bare skin I offered, settling on my chest. I eased my hips up, pushing my shorts down my thighs. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, rising to his feet. 

“Where are you going?” I asked, raising one eyebrow.

My pulse hastened as he settled onto his knees before me, palms splaying over my thighs. He spread my legs slowly, humming softly to himself. His lips pressed against my thigh, a chaste kiss.

“Right here, love” He mumbled against my skin before leaning in. 

His tongue licked a thick stripe up my core, a moan slipping from his parted lips. My hands flew to his hair, tangling in the two toned locks. He flicked his tongue against my clit, his fingers kneading my thighs. His tongue moved with precision, feverishly moving over my skin. My breath caught in my throat, a string of moans leaving my lips as he shook his head- nuzzling his face even closer to my dripping cunt. 

“Arthur-” I moaned, my head falling back against the cushions. 

“Think I could get used to you saying my name like that.” He said, pulling away for a moment. He spat onto his fingers, running the sodden digits up my core. A desperate plea left my lips as his fingertip pushed past my entrance, a second soon joining it. 

It’d been far too long since I'd done anything like this- far too long since I'd trusted anyone with my body, and yet here he was taking me apart so diligently.

Tension swelled in my stomach, building with every thrust of his digits. His tongue was back on me with the same fervor as before, flicking against my clit. My breath grew heavier, my head spinning with pleasure. Every worry was now swept away- replaced by the feeling of his tongue working against me. 

My thighs quivered, tensing around his head. It didn’t seem to deter him- quite the opposite, his pace hastening. The tension in my stomach pulled tight- red hot like molten metal, hanging heavy between my hips. His brows furrowed, all of his concentration now between my legs, chasing every moan I offered. 

“I’m gonna-”

He moaned against my cunt, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine. My nerve endings pulsed, sending a wave of pleasure surging through my body. My muscles tensed, toes curling as my orgasm washed over me. I cried out his name, my back arching off the cushions. Paresthesia soon followed, swallowing up my limbs as I rode out my high on his tongue. I went limp in his hold, his tongue still working me through my orgasm. Sweat ran down my chest as I took in gasping breaths of air. 

I glanced down at him, meeting his gaze once more. A self-satisfied smirk settled across his sharp features. He pressed another chaste kiss to my thighs as he pulled his fingers from me. Parting his lips, he slipped the digits in his mouth, laving his tongue over his fingertips. 

“Tastes like a dream,” he mumbled to himself. He surged forward, lips crashing against mine. I could feel his stiff cock nudging at my thigh, dripping with anticipation.

“Arthur,” I moaned against his lips, his hot breath fanning over my skin. I could taste myself on him- my arousal washing over my tastebuds with every kiss. “I want you to fuck me.”

He groaned, something animalistic. I shifted to lie on my back, parting my knees for him. He settled himself between my thighs, cock brushing against my clit. A soft noise left me, igniting something behind his eyes. 

“I'm going to enjoy watching you fall apart for me,” he cooed, rutting his cock against my core. The anticipation of the stretch- the feeling of his length gliding against my dripping cunt was almost too much. I let out a desperate moan, looping my arms around the back of his neck. He leaned close, bare chest to bare chest, pounding heart against pounding heart. 

He pulled back his hips, only to push forward again- his cockhead breaching my entrance. I bit down on my bottom lip, quelling the desperate noises that threatened to spill from my tongue. He pushed another inch inside me, his pulse hastening- heart pounding against his chest. His lips met mine once more in a soft kiss. He moaned against my mouth, cock twitching inside me. I crossed my ankles behind his back, nudging him forward with my heels. His fingers tensed, knuckles blanching as he gripped the armrest tight. 

He shallowly thrusted inside of me, slipping deeper and deeper with every rut forward. His lips moved down my jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my neck. I felt full, the weight of his cock inside me almost unable to bear- and yet I craved more. He stilled, fully sheathed inside me, a groan falling from his lips.

“Gods, I am such a lucky bastard,” he moaned.

He pulled back, starting a steady rhythm with his hips. His thrusts were slow, as if savoring every inch of my insides. A string of moans dripped off my tongue, his name tangling with the incoherent babbles. I carded my fingers through the short hair at the base of his neck, pulling gently at the locks. 

“Fuck, Arthur, you feel so good,” I moaned, arching my chest into his. Grunting against my neck, he sank his teeth into my skin, kissing over the marks he left behind.

His pace hastened, his hips moving forward as if on their own. The soft sound of his thighs meeting mine filled the room, our heavy breaths and moans intertwining into a symphony of sorts. He sucked bruises into my skin, sure to remain for days afterward. His hands roamed over my body, grasping at every bit of me he could reach- as if I'd disappear the next day. And yet I stayed, wrapped around him, his name falling from my tongue like a prayer. 

The familiar sensation bloomed in my stomach, wrapping around my thighs, building in my stomach. My head spun, thoughts turned to hot honey under his touch. I ran my fingers over his back, feeling his muscles tense and pull underneath his skin. I tugged at his hair, pulling him away from my neck. He stilled inside me, eyebrows furrowing as he looked in my eyes.

“Let me ride you.” I pushed at his chest.

“Like one of your kaithes, huh?” A crooked smile spread across his face. Strands of sweat-dampened hair hung in his face, framing his features. Another moan left my throat as he pulled out. The emptiness settled between my hips, the urge for more building in my stomach. I watched as he moved to lie against the cushions, his mismatched eyes trained on me. 

“Exactly,” I said, settling myself on his hips. “Can’t let my riding expertise go to waste, now can I?”

I wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock, guiding him to my core. My eyes fluttered closed as I sank down onto his length. My breath left my lungs, a gasp falling from my tongue as my hips met flush against his.

I glanced down at him, taking in his bare form beneath me. A deep blush settled on his face, creeping down his chest. His eyes were glassy, brimming with lust as he looked up at me. A heavy sigh left his parted lips, plush and soft like the rest of him.

“You’re beautiful, Arthur.”

“Keep saying stuff like that, and I might just fall in love with you,” he hummed, his hands settling on my hips.

“I think I'm already there.”

I lifted myself from his lap, only to let my body fall back down, his cock filling me so deliciously. His grip tensed, hands guiding me pace- slow and deliberate. Soft curses and praises fell from his lips, intertwining with my own breathless noises. I could tell I was already close, my muscles tensing up with every thrust of my hips. My head spun, all of my dizzying thoughts now replaced with one thing- him. 

I fell forward into his chest, still working my hips against him. Bending his knees, he angled his hips up, thrusting against me. My breath hitched as the pressure in my stomach grew. I let out ragged breaths, grasping at the armrest to anchor myself as I rode him. His arms wrapped around my back, holding me tight against his chest as he took over. He thrusted his hips up, his cock twitching inside me as he neared his own orgasm. 

I choked out a sob, my cunt fluttering around him as I came. Pleasure washed over me, surging through my muscles in waves. My pulse pounded in my ears, blood swirling through my vestibules. I went limp in his touch, the aftershocks settling beneath my sweaty skin as he rocked me through my orgasm. 

His hips stilled, cock throbbing as he came inside me. Warmth flooded my insides, running down my thighs. He grunted, chest heaving as he took in deep breaths through his nose. His grip on me relented, his palms gliding over my skin to soothe every ache that settled into my muscles. Sighing, I settled myself on his chest, my hand cradling the back of his neck. I ran my fingers over the metal protrusions, humming softly to myself.

“So…is that the reason why you never left?” he clicked his tongue. I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck, his steady heartbeat like a lullaby. I nodded, pressing a kiss against his skin. He laughed to himself, his hand drifting down to my hip. “You’ve got a spaceship- a whole universe to explore.” He continued, “That’s the part that always confused me…deciding to stay here in this dingy backroom.”

“Universe seems pretty pointless without you, as cliché as it may sound,” I mumbled against his neck. 

“Never did peg you as a romantic, drifter.” His voice faded into silence. I sank into his hold, sank into the warmth of his embrace. The harsh contrast of metal and flesh- his fingers tracing patterns in my skin- this was something I could get used to. Something tender to hold onto in this voidforasken time loop. “Learn something new about you every day, don’t I?”

-

“Aye, where the hell did you get these marks? Looks like you were mauled!” Lettie clicked her tongue, her eyes narrowing as she scanned over the mess of marks on my neck.

“I uh…had a run in with a…screamer…yeah…” I glanced around, heat rising to my face at the confrontation.

She turned around, arms crossing over her chest as she stared at Arthur. Bruises adorned his skin- my teeth marks still left at the junction of his neck. He glanced away, covering his smirk with the back of his hand.

“Uh huh…sure.”

The Admiral’s mind blanked. For a brief instant, the floor seemed to disappear beneath his feet and Roathe felt weightless, as he had the first time he and his Dax troops airdropped onto Perita so long ago.

His first instinct was to deny it — to tell the poor Drifter she must be mistaken, that she may not have realized it yet, but desire and love were two very different things. A cacophony of rebuttals crowded his thoughts, confounding his sensibilities and making his fingers clumsy on the keyboard.

I— he began, but accidentally clicked “Send” before he could complete his thought. Blasted contraption! A surge of adrenaline-fueled rage coursed through him, his fists clenching as he fought through a momentary urge to dash the computer against a nearby wall.

Roathe took a deep breath to steady himself. Rationally, he could not in good faith dismiss the Drifter’s words as mere confusion borne of ignorance or immaturity. She was naïve to many ways of the world, yes, but she was no child. Furthermore, she lacked the effortless guile so common among the Orokin — and while the Drifter undoubtedly kept her share of secrets, he had never known her to lie.

My dear Usurper… he tried again. I am taken aback, I do not know what to say. Those are words I have never…

They were words he had never heard before in all his years, words he had never anticipated hearing from the lips of another. And why should he, how could he, after the countless schemes he had plotted and traps he had laid over the course of his lifetime? The sick amusements, the macabre Yuvan Ceremonies, the corpse-strewn fields of blood on the Tau System’s far shores forlorn?

Yes, Roathe had long since concluded that he was unlovable. He had taken lovers, of course, extracted pleasure and inflicted pain just as Nitokh and others like her had done with him in kind. But an evening’s distraction could only mask, not cure, the insidious truth that lay beneath — that Roathe’s many sins had rendered him undeserving of love from another. That he was fundamentally irredeemable.

There was much the Drifter didn’t know about him — but, for Void’s sake, there were some things Roathe did not remember about himself. Some terrible things, judging by the bone-chilling dread that struck his heart every time she and the zealots confronted him within the Dark Refractory. Yet, despite possessing only an incomplete impression of Vice Regent Grand Carnus Admiral Roathe, an affection for him had taken root in the Drifter’s heart. And now it had blossomed from affection into love, fragile and sacred as a Xenoflora in bloom. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Suddenly all that I came here to say, all that I came here to beg you for falls away like sand through my fingers, Roathe wrote. Trite and unimportant.

To think that he had nearly asked her to wipe his memories clean! If the Drifter turned back the clock now, Roathe supposed her feelings would remain unchanged… but the cost to him would be incalculable, he knew that now.

Something horrible awaits me, Usurper, Roathe continued. Some terrible realization on the crest of that hill. I can feel it gathering like storm clouds in my mind. I can see its sickly yellow glow upon the horizon.

Memories that I know I do not wish to recall. Corpses of the dead I desperately wish to remain buried in my mind. I had come here to beg you to use your powers to wipe my mind of all this…

His vision blurred, the cursor distorting and losing its form amid a sea of black and white pixels. He suddenly realized that his cheeks were damp.

To clear away all my recollection of our conversations, he typed, and put us back at the beginning before it was too late. Now, I am laughing at the foolishness of it all.

Roathe did laugh then, chuckling to himself as he ran the back of a palm over his moistened eyes. When was the last time he had laughed… or the last time he had wept? As he idly considered the question, his gaze swept furtively over the Sanctum Anatomica, scanning for the presence of any incriminating witnesses. The Cavia were present, of course, but otherwise Roathe appeared to be mercifully alone.

And trying to hide my tears from the prying eyes of those around me in the Sanctum… the Devil of Tau admitted.

The Drifter’s response manifested onscreen immediately: Oh, Roathe…

But it does not matter now, he replied, returning to the matter of the request he had nearly made. Because if you took away my memories of our conversations together, I would… I would lose this, as well.

The Orokin were creatures of memory at heart — Continuity rituals may have altered their faces and aestheticians’ blades may have augmented their bodies, but their memories always remained unchanged. Memories were sacred, and to lose sight of their importance would be to lose a piece of Roathe’s very soul.

I do not know what waits for me, he wrote. Perhaps you will despise me when it is revealed to us. Perhaps I will despise myself.

Yet I would rather greet oblivion itself with the knowledge that love could possibly have been mine, than spend one more day without it.

“HEYO!” a sudden cry startled Roathe out of his reverie. He tensed for a moment, then realized it was only Bird 3 — who, seeing that he had gotten the devil’s attention, now erupted with a fresh volley of his somehow endearing nonsense.

“I’m coming, you impatient thing!” the Admiral said. His words were sharp, but a playful tone belied his unlikely camaraderie with the avian Cavia. Roathe swiftly typed a few final words to the Drifter:

Come what may, no matter how I may fight you… thank you, Usurper. Thank you.

With that message sent, Roathe put the Pom-2 computer to sleep and stood up from the butler’s cluttered desk. The magnitude of what lay ahead still weighed mightily upon his heart, but somehow the burden seemed a little lighter now — or perhaps a little more worth carrying.

Just as he had told the Drifter, Roathe knew not where his path would lead from here. The uncertainty still disturbed him greatly, but thoughts of looping backwards in time had been utterly banished from his mind. There was nothing for Roathe in the past, not anymore… and the future would remain unwritten until he reached it.

“If you promise to not to tell anyone, I’ll tell you about Duviri,” She muttered into the comforting silence, squeezing his hand as she spoke to calm her nerves. “The full truth, no stone unturned. I’ll even entertain your curiosity and let you ask a few questions.”

“Sweets, you don’t have to—” Even in his inebriated state he knew this was a minefield for her to navigate, his working eye searched her face for any signs of discomfort, but all he found was a tender sort of sadness that looked strange on her.

“I know I don’t have to,” Laline assured him with another squeeze, her lips curling into a sweet-tempered smile as she deeply inhaled, pushing the air through her parted lips with a low whistle. “But… if anyone here deserves to know, it’s you.”

“What have I done besides drunkenly dump on you to deserve this?” Arthur grunted, his agitated mannerisms on fire at the easy allowance, as if he hadn’t earned her trust, not by his standards.

“You’ve given me a home, Artie, that’s more than enough in my book,” Laying back on the mattress, she continued to hold his hand in hers, bringing it up to her chest so he could feel the steady beat of her otherworldly heart. “How do you want to do this?”

“I should be asking you that,” He huffed under his breath, yet he laid on his side next to her with their faces only a few inches apart, his head resting on her shoulder as her other arm came to wrap around him. “Don’t act coy, I see the way you hide from the others, from me. S’not like you.”

“Complicated isn’t the word I’d use, but it applies,” Laline sighed, closing her eyes as she shifted closer to him, this kind of tender intimacy a rare thing for either of them. “I’ve never… had someone to talk to about this, Arthur, and I don’t how to—”

“Sol above, I am the crowned king of avoiding talking about his problems,” He interrupted, a concerned furrow in his brow as he reached up to tuck one of her loose curls behind her ear before catching himself, a pink flush coloring his cheeks. “I suppose I’ll ask outright; do you trust me?”

“Yeah.” No hesitation, just the bitter truth that she’d wanted to bury for so long, a truth that he’d become an expert at finding inside her. “With my life, if it comes to it.”

“Then… trust me.” For the first time that night, Arthur squeezed her hand back, and with a deep sigh, she began.

“I’ve already told you the surface level shit, cursed orphan ends up in an alternate reality, cursed orphan escapes that reality thanks to their other self from an entirely different reality,” Laline sits up now, disentangling herself from his hold as she becomes more self conscious, drawing inward on herself as she tucked her head into her knees — much like she did as a child. “The part I’ve been avoiding: I’m Duviri.”

“What?”

“I’m Duviri, Arthur. The emotions, the fear, that blasted apathy, all of it was me. Every beheading, every quartering, every iron maiden they put me in. It was all because of me. I killed myself over and over and over and over to escape a reality I created for myself because I was a scared little kid who had done something unforgiveable.”

“Laline…” She won’t — She can’t — look at him, unable to withstand the pity in his voice let alone any that might show on his scarred face and those damnable soft eyes. “You were a child—”

“I killed my parents,” Cutting him off at the pass, Laline finally lifted her head from her knees only to stare off into the dark hallway ahead as she recalled what she could. “The Void had… changed them, made them angry, made them dangerous. Some kids locked theirs up, others hid, but me? I killed them.”

“Why?” For a second she almost laughed, the judicious tilt to his usually neutral tone affording her a brief respite — finally, someone would judge her that wasn’t the Indifference.

“I couldn’t tell you because I don’t know,” She whispered with the sort of finality saved for goodbyes.

“Don’t know, or don’t want to know?”