[Spoilers!] A Second Dream Story

[LysanderasD]

A brief follow up to the Second Dream. That means spoilers. That means you don't look in here until you've completed the quest. I mean it. It's short, but its very nature is spoilery.

 

We good? Good.

 

In the wake of the ending of the quest, this was something I very much wished I could do.

 

Argentis descended into the orbiter. It had been done over in cool colors, the blue and violet and silver, muted tones like the ones he wore. It took him a moment to be able to adapt from the bright light of the upper compartment. He stopped at the bottom of the ramp, his gaze drawn to the incubator. Bastion had awoken at the hissing of the descending ramp and was looking at him attentively. Almost on reflex, he moved toward the kubrow, who seemed to perk up a good deal as he did so.

He knelt, holding out a hand. The kubrow immediately leaned his head in to nuzzle, and then lowered it so Argentis could scratch him between the ears. Bastion let out an appreciative rumble and curled up again, settling into the rounded nest of the incubator, apparently satisfied. Argentis watched for a moment, pushed himself back onto his feet. He turned toward the arsenal and... hesitated.

He raised his hand in front of his face, the fingers flexing slightly. The metallic tips of his digits glistened even in the dim light of the lower orbiter. He rubbed finger and thumb together, clenched a fist, spread his hand wide. He stared. Then he spun on his heel and descended again.

The pod opened.

She stared as the door at the far end of the room slid open slowly. The puppet entered. She was aware here, now, and she lacked the fine control she normally did; the puppet's movements were a little more jerky, a little more unsure. She saw through her own eyes. But she also saw through its eyes, saw herself as it approached, the tromp-tromp of its heavy footfalls at once drawing closer and underneath her own feet. It stopped at the foot of the stairs, slumping slightly, as she closed her second eyes. It drew breath on absent-minded reflex, keeping itself alive even when she wasn't doing anything with it.
 

It was Prime, and the metallic finish caught the glow of the Void projection behind her and made it shimmer. Watching it stand there, limp, made her want to wretch. Yesterday, yesterday she had been proud of it.

But yesterday she had been Argentis. She remembered

five pulls of the trigger, ten dead Grineer slumping over. Snapping the Sybaris open to eject its magazine, he ducked behind a pillar to draw another magazine from within. The Grineer swore at him from outside his snow globe. One brave flameblade flashed into the globe, raising his stun baton, and in a single smooth motion Argentis drew his sword and bisected it. They could not have this cryopod. This one he would protect.

She grit her teeth. She remembered being Hawkeye and

the Regulators snapping into her hands as she focused, one, two, three, four, pause, five, the energy bolts bouncing off of her as she lost herself in her battle dance. She could sense the rover draining her shields, but it was irrelevant; nothing existed except that small space, that one point she saw her bullets go.

She took a deep breath and remembered Vex

diving into the Corrupted mind, or what was left of it, taking hold of what the Neural Sentry had tried to claim and make it her own. The bombard whirled, slamming his fist into the ground and sending his once-allies tumbling, even as she gestured, gleefully throwing out a wave of panic. Every Corrupted for itself.

And Hector

laughing a silent laugh as he melted, watching, waiting, feeling, as the target walked unknowingly toward him. One more step, and into the puddle they went, and Hector Naught wrapped his fingers around their throat and squeezed and squeezed and

She gasped, returning to the here and now with a jerk. The stringless puppet, head bowed, did not move at all except to breathe. Everything was blurry. She removed the ocula to rub at her eyes, ashamed, somehow, though she knew her cephalon would not judge her and the thing in front of her did not have enough of a brain to care. When she could see again, she returned the ocula to her eyes, breathing unsteadily, trying to keep herself under control.

She was better than this. She was Tenno.

 

Wasn't she?

Images and sounds flashed through her head. The Corpus merchant in the relays. The countless civilians rescued from countless cells. The jeers and threats from Grineer and Corpus. Tenno was the thing they saw. Tenno was the voiceless warrior, the unstoppable force on the battlefield. Tenno was the thing you could rely on.  Tenno was the thing that ran without tiring, that killed without stopping. Tenno could stand on its own two legs and fight its own wars. The Solar System had its Tenno. When she closed her eyes and dreamed she thought she might be Tenno. But now she was awake. What was she?

The puppet, the useless hollow shell, slumped further. It wasn't breathing now. She glared at it, and then raised her hand and stared. The suit capped her fingers much like the silver metal that capped the puppet's. She rubbed her finger and thumb together, clenched a fist, spread her hand again. She stared.

The puppet jerked and stood again. She watched it carefully, even though at the same time she was the puppet and she knew what it saw because it saw her. She knew what she wanted to do.

The puppet stepped toward her. She leaned out of the chair. Tried to catch herself on unsteady, atrophied legs and stumbled right into its grasp. She brought her power to bear as it caught her, resting her hand near its spinal cord to keep control as well as she could. But she was out of the somatic pod, now; even though she was touching the puppet it felt sluggish and unresponsive. This was not a warrior that held her in its arms. This was no Tenno.

Her cephalon chirped with concern. She heard the meaning, even if she did not pay attention to the words. The puppet, for all its clumsiness, hefted her up as if she were nothing, holding securely.

Dream.

When it moved, it was with the same heavy footfalls as it had had on the moon. It was smoother this time; she was not recovering from hibernation sickness any more, not driven by fear and confusion. Smoother, but still awkward. She moved its legs while her own dangled uselessly. The pod sealed up behind her, waiting for her to return. The door to the fore of the ship slid open again as they approached.

 

Her cephalon chirped again. Is everything okay? Should this one contact the Lotus? Operator?

She gestured with her free hand. No.

The puppet rounded the last corner, came up the ramp. The incubator came into view. The puppet stopped.

Bastion stirred at the sound of footsteps, ears perking up, head turning. He looked at her.

Things were very quiet. She didn't dare to make a sound. Bastion raised his head, and slowly got to his paws.

She took a deep breath. The puppet moved again, gently, carefully, with more grace than she thought she could muster, setting her down on her knees, seiza, the way she ought to be. It knelt behind her as if to offer support, but when she removed her hand from its neck it went limp. No life. No self. She struggled to stay upright without its support, and hated herself for it.

Not of what you are.

Bastion approached. Now that she was herself she could appreciate just how large he was. He was Raksa, a protector, and had all the muscle mass to prove it. He stood nearly shoulder height with the puppet, but now the puppet was a limp husk behind her. He stopped in front of her, looming, far taller than she was. She tried to look up at him but couldn't bring herself to it, staring at the floor and trembling. This was terror. She knew terror; she had felt it on the moon when the shadow raised its sword. She had felt it on the Zariman, when she lashed out in anger and turned a bully to stone.

 

She twitched when she felt a touch on the top of her head... then had to resist, of all things, the urge to giggle. He was sniffing, and it mussed her hair, tickling. The kubrow ducked his head and attempted to lift hers, pushing his muzzle against her forehead. She looked up, the trembling returning. This time she met his gaze. Their eyes met--for the first time ever, she realized, with a jolt. He seemed to be studying her. She swallowed... and raised a hand.

The kubrow's eyes shifted away from her face and toward her hand. She froze, balling it into a fist on reflex. Neither moved.

But of what you want to be.

When he didn't make another move, she slowly unclenched her fist and brought it up toward his head. Tried to; her arms were as atrophied as her legs and she couldn't raise it any higher than her shoulder. She grimaced, her vision beginning to blur from frustrated tears. Useless, useless body. She could cower in fear but she could not reach out to touch her own companion.

Bastion lowered himself, folding his legs underneath himself and moving his head to catch her hand as it fell. She gasped.

His fur was wiry and thick, and beneath it she could feel his muscle, like rock, like Unairu. She knew that there had been softer kubrow breeds, ones bred for luxury and companionship. Raksa was a warbeast, bred for what it could endure, not what it felt like to touch. To her it made no difference. Bastion had served at her side since Argentis had hatched him, and now, only now, for the very first time, was she really touching him. She had pet him so many times, but this was the first time she had ever truly felt him. She trembled again, and this time not from fear.

 

Her other arm came up and settled on his shoulder in an awkward, unsure hug. "...Bastion?"

He perked up and... smiled. She scratched between his ears again, her hand sliding to his shoulder as he raises his head and set it lightly on her own shoulder. She leaned in against him. The kubrow willingly supported her, his head settling next to hers. This close, she could practically feel his heartbeat, hear him breathing, hear his fur rustle as he shifted a little to become more comfortable.

"...This is me," she said, quietly. "...This is what I'm really like. Not the... not that thing behind me."

If he understood, he showed no signs of caring. She swallowed, and... enjoyed this. There was a foggy memory of friends, huddled in the dark, and of Margulis, there to hold and endure when the voices didn't stop. How long had it actually been since then? How long had she lain in that reservoir? How long had it been since she'd actually, honestly, held and been held by something that was actually alive?

Bastion let out a curious, soft bark when he heard her beginning to cry. He pulled away. She tried to stop him, but his strength was a tidal wave against the candle that was hers. He brought his cheek to her face, rumbling quietly. Part of her wanted to be afraid, but it was a warm sound, the same one he made when gentle Serena would play with him. She knew the kind of strength he had, and she could not, did not resist as he gently nudged her back toward the puppet, and she did not protest as the kubrow moved around to lift its arms into a facsimile of a hug around her. When he was finished, he sat in front of her again, wearing a happy canid smile. She shook her head.

"It's... it's a puppet. It's not me. This is me." She indicated herself with a hand.

 

He huffed and leaned forward again, making a point of settling the puppet's hand over her own. He didn't understand. How could he? She was stupid to even think this would wo--

For the briefest of moments, she felt a light pressure on her hand. She looked down at the puppet's hand, then back up at Bastion. Maybe... he did understand. Maybe he understood more than she realized.

The kubrow lowered his head and licked her, once, on the cheek. Despite herself, she smiled. When he saw it, the kubrow gave a soft, encouraging bark.

She closed her hand around the warframe's, felt it wake up, listening to her will. It raised itself to its feet, carrying her with it, cradling her as before. Bastion nodded and returned to the incubator. The warframe turned and descended the ramp. When it placed her back in the link pod, she watched. For a moment, as it lost contact with her, it sagged again, but as she settled into place it stood, tall and proud.

This was who she was. It was not who she wanted to be. But like the warframe carrying her, she could take slow, unsteady steps toward it. She knew she could.

The warframe stepped back. The pod slid shut.

 

Argentis folded his hands in front of himself, watching the pod. He wasn't sure why. He was himself and he was her, now, and he knew that she could just as easily be any of the other personae. For so long he had only been himself, and had only had himself. Now he knew, she knew, that there was more than that. This strength was his strength. It was a strength she borrowed, and that he gave willingly. One day, perhaps, when the system saw peace, she would be strong enough to stand on her own. For now he would be what she needed.

She had studied Unairu. She had pushed herself to her limits, to stand and endure what would break lesser beings. He was Unairu put in practice. He would be the mountain, and he would be the hand.

As he stepped out into the orbiter, Bastion stood before him. He bowed his head slightly to the great beast, who barked softly in return. He sat beside the door, just out of its sensor range, a vigil. Argentis scratched him between the ears, and ascended again to the stars.

 

 

EDIT: changed the topic title to better reflect the content of the post.

Edited December 5, 2015 by LysanderasD