Vitruvian Light - Warframe Short Stories

There was this horrible feeling in the back of Eleanor’s mind. It was a little thing, but it was growing, and it came from the mall’s backrooms.

Drifter must be having a bad day. That’s okay. Everyone had bad days. She would check on drifter later, she would appreciate that. But Eleanor couldn’t help but worry.

She grew worried along with the growing emotions she was feeling. Even Arthur noticed the look on Eleanor’s face as she failed to keep their basic conversation. He told her to go check on Drifter. Eleanor couldn’t feel the concern from Arthur, it was being drowned out. Everything was.

The rest of the Hex watched as Eleanor’s brisk walk broke into a run. Secretly, as soon as she rounded a corner, they all got up, ready just in case she or Drifter needed them.

Drifter was naked, covered in ink. It was a haunting sight, her eyes glazed over and she was tracing her fingers along the wall. Her ink-covered fingers formed intricate designs. The whole apartment was covered in the black ink. The walls, the floor, the furniture. Kalymos was resting precariously on the balcony fence, watching.

Eleanor rushed over. The emotions were so overwhelming that Eleanor was close to doubling over.

She wrapped her arms around Drifter’s waist, getting the ink over her arms and chest. That didn’t matter, not now.

Eleanor struggled to find the words to say. The walls were covered in ink, and she watched as Drifter, as if caught in a trance, traced her finger through it.

Slowly, Eleanor began to see images in the lines. In was inexplicable, the things she saw. Drifter muttered something. Eleanor couldn’t make sense of any of it.

“… killed them all…”

Eleanor squeezed her tighter. They stayed like that for so long. Eleanor listened closer, trying to hear the words, to feel the emotions. They were dying down, and Drifter's movements began to slow.

"...just trying to help you...”, "…not supposed to go on you..", "...are they happy tears...", it was only some of the things Eleanor could pick out, most was hidden beneath Drifter's breath.

"Let the paint do the feeling," was the clearest thing Eleanor could hear. When she looked up again, there was a haunting scene painted on the wall. Horrible faces, twisted stick figures.

There was someone with a tiara, just like Drifter, aiming something at two figures.

Eventually Drifter's arm fell to her side. For a while she simply stood there, eyes unfocused, staring into the ink. Drifter wrapped an inky arm around Eleanor, bringing her close.

Eleanor's eyes drifted past Drifter, landing on that new Warframe. The ink flowed from her like a fountain. It was knelt down on her knees, her fingers dipped in the ink. Like she was frozen to the spot.

Eleanor stared at that thing. Drifter had called it Ember. She was very close to it, this “Warframe”. Too close, if one were to ask Eleanor.

Not that anyone did, of course. Everyone had their own thoughts, but had all silently agreed to not say anything about Drifter and Ember’s strange relationship. Everyone assumed, one way or another, that Drifter was attached to Ember in the same way Amir was attached to his games, or Quincy to his guns. They all treated Ember like a tool.

But Eleanor could hear it. It wasn’t a mindless hunk of metal. Eleanor could hear it. That thing was alive.

So she watched it. She could tell you every detail of Ember’s body. The heat that radiated from it, the dull flames from its head, the purple body that felt like gazing into the night sky.

One day it moved. Eleanor thought that perhaps she was just sleep deprived, or was imagining things. The noises grew louder, the emotions stronger. “Noises” was the only words she could use to describe what it was. Not ‘voices’, not ‘thoughts’. It made her nervous.

“Do you think your Warframe is alive?” Eleanor asked Drifter.

Drifter looked at her with a smirk. It slowly fader when she realized that Eleanor was serious. Drifter’s eyes bounced between her girlfriend and her warframe. Ember had been placed gingerly on the couch in the apartment. It lay there unmoving, its face turned to the ceiling.

“Of course she’s alive,” Drifter said in a low voice. “They all are, really. I only tell you this because I love and trust you, Eleanor. Don’t tell anyone else, okay? Promise?”

“I promise, but…” Eleanor’s voice trailed off. It was hard to think of the words to say.