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[Archive] Of Ash And Fire - Original Thread


SirNerdsAlot5
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-Deep space orbital command, come in.

-Roger that Outpost. Reading you loud and clear.

-I'm detecting a large thermal spike in one of our sectors.

-Outpost, please specify.

-I'm detecting a substantial thermal spike coupled with a large amassment of antimatter particles. Sector 14b.

-Good god! That's the Aequitas station!

-Advise our next step command.

-Your job is done outpost. We'll take it from here. Our men are on call with Aigloblam right now.

-Roger that. Here's hoping that nothing blows up there.

-Amen to that.

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Acantha. If it was Nova Quinn, the conversation would be like this:

 

-Deep space orbital command, come in.
-Roger that Outpost. Reading you loud and clear.
-I'm detecting a large flavour spike in one of our sectors.
-Outpost, please specify.
-I'm detecting a substantial flavour spike coupled with a large amassment of antimatter particles. Sector 14b.
-Good god! That's the Aequitas station! Please specify what flavour you're mentioning, Outpost.
-Cherries. Lots and lots of cherries. Advise our next step command.
-Your job is done outpost. We'll take it from here. Our men are on call with Aigloblam right now.
-Roger that. Here's hoping that nothing blows up there.
-Amen to that.

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''Not by choice, old man.'' Kris replied to the Foundry master as he accepted a glass. ''And I'll probably stay here a little while longer, as Lotus and the doctors have informed me. Until I pass psych eval, I am too much of a danger to be allowed to roam the system. Mind you, I do not care for within in this room I have space to meditate, a warm bed and three meals a day. The only downside is that I don't have anything for entertainment purposes. Like something to watch the news on. It gets boring in here.'' Kris finished as Quinn poured his liquid treat into the glasses.

 

Both the drink and chatter was flowing as the two talked for hours, catching up. Kris told Quinn about his stay in the jungle and the secrets hidden there, as well as talking about his job with Station Security and the rescue mission fiasco, while Quinn told him about the rebuilding of the halls that had been destroyed in the event which led to Kris leaving. As the bottle emptied and their vocal cords lost their lubrication, Quinn excused himself as he still had some work to do.

 

Left alone once again, Kris started thinking. What if he were to retire? He wouldn't have to be Tenno anymore. He could just be Kris. Maybe he could open a small bar on the station, or maybe he could just spend the rest of his days and credits in relaxation, with no worries beyond what to have for dinner. Giving the one finger salute to Lotus would be a nice bonus.

 

He thought, and thought. Imagining and creating vivid images in his mind of how he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Soon, he picked up a pen one of the doctors had left, along with a note pad, and started drawing his own perfect, little, calm paradise.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

meh.

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As to my silence, it's mainly school. I'm trying to get over my procrastination since it hinders me greatly, and if i want to get into honors classes i need to be able to sit still and study, I'm also working on giving my mind rest. My mind is always racing and it's also a hindrance since i can't focus on anything for long or i start going into la-la land. And i haven't had access to a laptop in a few days, so there's that. Sorry all :(

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Alright, this is working out to be very long, so I'm going to post it in chapters as I finish up major bits. Since I had originally planned this to be posted all at once, please accept that certain plot points will be explained later, and I will hold back at answering questions that could be spoilers later on at my own discretion.

 

So here it is, the beginning of the post-collapse backstory of my favorite Fey Tenno, Peregrine.(Sorry if there's some cannon-bending in it, if it goes too far, let me know and I'll move this or revise it). I hope it's decent, let me all know what you think. Like I said, this is coming out far longer than I thought so continuations will be forthcoming but spaced out (probably) and chapters will be posted as I finish them. With any luck I'll get the inspiration to finish up some stuff dealing with Acantha soon as well, and intersperse that between bits of this (that is, if I can focus on anything dealing with her while this is still in my head... which remains to be seen).

 

ANYWAY, here it is, in a spoiler because the first "chapter" is several pages. I hope it's ok....

 

Recollections of Light

 

What was a world without color or light? A world without sound; confined to memorization, limited to arm’s reach, bound by darkness, where even the faintest memory of light is so far away and faded by time and circumstance that it’s like looking back on the opening of a dark tunnel that becomes more distant with every passing glance?

 

Her world had always been confined such. She’d never known the impression of space or height except by the changes she could feel. The sharp drop-off of an edge, the cold drafts of air over a chasm, or the open, terrifying spaces that she could only vaguely sense that spoke of a place with nowhere to hide. She only knew faces by touch, recognizing the rough burr of an unshaven face against her skin, the delicate features of her mother under her fingers, or the long, leonine nose of a friend. Her only concept of light was conveyed in vague memories of brightness and blurred faces, kind smiles and soft, contented expressions, but they were all old and soft-edged in the way memories get as time passes, especially memories formed at a very young age as hers had been. Her recollections of light were short and few, and had ended when she was young enough to not remember the exact time in which they had stopped entirely. Since then her world had been dark, although not unpleasant. Her parents had taken good care of her, and the people who crewed the ship her family had lived on for most of her life had always good naturedly tolerated her eccentricities.

 

Unable to speak due to her inability to hear the spoken word, people who knew her quickly picked up her unique system of communication, imperfect as it was. As a small child, anyone she ran up to instantly learned to either kneel down to her level or pick her up, where she was within reach to touch their face. With her hands, she learned faces, and gradually a system evolved where she could at least vaguely understand those around her. By placing one hand on a person’s face, with her thumb resting on their lips and her other fingers resting along their jaw and throat, she could feel the vibrations of their voice box, feel the movement of their lips, and sense the patterns of air that they expelled past her fingers. She would then couple the nuances of those bits of information with more broadly defined hand gestures that she would simultaneously feel with her other hand. Most people only knew a few basic signs, such as, “Where are you parents?” but as she grew older she began to infer more and more about the world, and was generally able to understand a great deal if given the opportunity even if she often couldn’t make herself understood.

 

Despite the warmth and support of those around her, however, her challenges in communication isolated her, both socially and physically, and as she grew so did her isolation. She grew to fear anything different from normal, and any change in her environment inspired terror. She preferred places where she couldn’t be surprised easily, and would often be found wedged into small spaces like corners where walls and objects were in easy reach and people could only approach her from predictable directions. If she was pulled from her safe havens, she would be found fearfully clinging to a familiar person or nearby wall, especially in large open areas where she couldn’t tell what was going on. Even the slightest changes in the movement of the ship, such as normal shuddering or sudden acceleration or stops, could insight panic in her. So when she felt an enormous rumbling rock her home, her first action was to wedge herself into her favorite hiding place, make herself as small as possible, and hope the alarming movements would stop.

 

That day they didn’t.

 

She couldn’t hear the blaring alarms or see the flashing warning lights. All she could sense were the explosions that rocked the ship again and again, until she felt a change in the air as a slight cool draft wafted over her. The door to the room had opened. She placed her hand against the floor and felt the vibration of approaching footsteps, she instantly recognized the weight and rhythm, and as he bent closer to her she recognized his scent; it was her father. She reached out to him and he hastily put a finger against her lips, the universal sign for silence. She signed a question and felt the signed a response in return. <Hide.>

 

She didn’t notice when she made an anxious, fearful whimper until he pressed his finger against her lips again, urging her to make no sound. As another explosion rocked the vessel, she laid her hand in its usual place against his face and questioned again, <Why? I don’t understand. I’m afraid.>

 

He shook his head, <Not now. No time. Hide, quickly. I’ll come back. Wait for me.>

 

She protested slightly as he lifted her up, boosting her into an air vent near the ceiling. She was nearly grown and wasn’t small, but her father had always been strong. Within moments she had clambered in. She reached down towards him, signing again to express confusion and fear. All he did was press her hand reassuringly and sign again, <Go back in as far as you can. Don’t come out until I come back.> He carefully replaced the vent cover, and then he was gone.

 

Terrified, she shakily crawled deeper into the ventilation shaft, every hand placed carefully in front of her. She didn’t make it too far before she turned a corner and her hand encountered empty space. She reeled backwards away from the drop before huddling against one wall. The ship rocked more and more violently, and foul, unfamiliar smells eventually worked their way into the small space she cowered within. She couldn’t make sense of anything she could perceive except that none of it could be good. Something was very wrong. Strange and violent vibrations, amplified by the metal of the ventilation shaft, disoriented her, and only added to the bedlam the explosions already caused. Tears ran down her face as she tried to control her breathing, which was hiccupping and rough as she cried.

 

Eventually, everything went calm, almost eerily so. She was tempted to emerge from hiding after awhile, but fear and her father’s words prevented her from moving. She waited on him to come back, but her apprehension only grew when he didn’t make himself known. She barely even shifted to make herself more comfortable as her wait stretched longer and longer.

 

And longer…

 

… And longer still.

 

After some time her terror gave way to exhaustion and she fell asleep in the vent. She wasn’t sure how long she was out before she felt more movement nearby. Snapping awake, she pulled her legs closer to her body, senses taught in fear. She could feel something or someone getting closer, and she tensed in anticipation. Perhaps her father had finally returned for her. Hope springing wildly up in her heart, she waited with baited breath for his signal; a specific order of taps that her parents often used to let her know that everything was ok and that she was safe. Seconds seemed like hours as she waited, senses straining. She could feel heavy footsteps as they echoed through the vent. They didn’t feel like her father’s.

 

Then she felt a lighter, second set of footsteps join the first. The nothing, until the grating rasp of the sound of metal screeching against metal transmitted itself to her through her fingers as it reverberated through the shaft; someone was pulling the cover off of the vent she was hiding in, and no reassuring rhythm made itself known. Whoever was coming for her wasn’t someone she knew. She gave a terrified shriek that she couldn’t hear, only feel through the instinctive expulsion of air and vibration of her own voice box, and tried to crawl deeper into her hiding place, but there was nowhere to go. A short distance from the corner she was hiding around was the opening to the vent, and past her, deeper in, was a sharp drop-off into nothingness, with the other side of the drop too far for her to feel. There was no exit.

 

She began to cry as she futilely tried to make herself smaller. She could sense the thudding movements of someone else trying to enter her sanctuary. When she felt something brush against her, she lashed out instinctively, impotently flailing against whatever was near her. She felt some of her blows weakly connect, but it obviously didn’t affect them, because she immediately felt a hand clamp down firmly but not painfully around her arm and begin to drag her out. Biting, clawing, and otherwise resisting with all her might, she fought the gauntleted hand she could feel encircling her upper arm, but all too soon she felt herself slide over the edge of the vent opening and into unfamiliar arms. They tried to hold her, but she fought with a feral kind of panic, and they couldn’t stop all of her blows without harming her. As she began to get winded and her struggles began weakening, one of her hands impacted her captor’s head. Or it should have been a head. Her hands brushed across what should have been a face, but it had no recognizable features and felt entirely alien to her touch. Her scream hit a pitch so loud, she could feel intense pain in her throat as she forced air past her vocal cords at a punishing rate. Her terror intensified beyond rational thought at not just being captured, but being captured by these things, she lashed out more fiercely than ever until the arms holding her tightened and she felt pressure against a nerve cluster. Then, everything was gone, and she fell into senselessness.

Edited by Jeahanne
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