meadowlarklogs | EVENT #008 AFTERMATH LOG

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EVENT #008 AFTERMATH LOG

WHO: The Displaced!
WHERE: Lots of places—potentially? Mostly New Amsterdam as the focus.
WHEN: March 4, 2512
WHAT: Unlocking of the gates and the game's fast travel network.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Uninvited visions.

> EVENT #008 AFTERMATH LOG

The vision itself is almost instantaneous once the last of the four gates activates, hitting the Displaced no matter where they are. It doesn't matter where that individual Displaced is: if they're in New Amsterdam, at one of the gates, or sleeping, they'll see the same vision. A flash of seven colors (red, blue, black, gold, orange, red, and white) followed by an image of a nomadic people heading up a long, stone bridge that appears to be naturally occurring. At the end of the bridge is an open, lit-up triangle that acts as a gateway, inviting them inside. Then there is another flash, followed by the nomads walking through the gate and ending up in a different, new location. And then another.

Any understanding of this vision isn't immediate. The answers won't be apparent until later, when there is an innate understanding of what they've learned and what they've unlocked for themselves. The world has opened up to the Displaced, and in some ways, it's there for them to access and even take for themselves if they so choose.

After the vision ends, any of the Displaced located at the four ruins will immediately begin to glow in all blue before they fade out of view and find themselves crammed into a new location. The relocation is immediate, and if anyone checks a map via their neural implant to see where they are geolocation wise, they'll be able to tell that they're underneath New Amsterdam. For anyone who's been in the underground cave system of New Amsterdam, they may think their surroundings are familiar, if not the same. After all, this area has been locked away for a very long time.

One more thing is apparent: they've landed on another form of gate that needs to be unlocked. After the numerous trials and puzzles the Displaced have faced, what's one more?

◉ The puzzle to solve is right beneath the feet of the Displaced on a bronze-colored mechanism. At the center of the mechanism are multiple overlapping triangles, and on the outside, there are five separated triangles that sit individually.

◉ Solving the puzzle involves connecting a daisychain of Displaced and having five key focal points step on the triangles at once.

◉ Once the puzzle unlocks, there will be another understanding: that what they saw in the vision belongs to them. Any of the Displaced outside of the caves will know what it means.

◉ With that work done, it's time to explore. The underground cave system of New Amsterdam is half-inhabited by the sprawling megacity, and half-uninhabited and untouched. This part of the cave system was locked away for centuries, and just like the other ruins, there are some relics and lost items from the past. The eras vary: some are early medieval burial sites with items like brittle, forgotten swords and shields, while others are crosses and manuscripts that refer to this location as the center of the Holy Roman Empire.

◉ The manuscripts are a mix of imagery from Catholicism and the same, omnipresent geometric imagery.

◉ The way out of the cave system involves touching a hand to a handprint alongside what appears to be a door. This print will only appear to the Displaced, so they will be able to move in and away from this location largely unobserved.

> ON THE JOB FROM 9 TO 5

Now that the gates trip is done and the Displaced have new answers—if potentially unhelpful ones, depending on their perspective—it's time to return to their lives. Surprisingly, New Amsterdam has no festivals going on, as if it's time to now be hungover from a February that involved nonstop partying. The city has been cleaned up and everyone's returning to their jobs as if the city around them is not in a constant state of revelry.

◉ Ah, it's time to return to work! No one is required to lose their jobs, but it might take a bit of groveling for the Displaced to return to where they were working before. (With the exception of the Red Wings bar. Poor Mister Doctor Stephen Strange.) El will have sent along any excuses to any bosses who might need an explanation. Ze's used to this gig by now.

◉ What about those cities left behind? No one planned on abandoning those gates at that exact moment. They will remain open to the Displaced. Anyone who had a hotel room in New Oslo or even kept stuff stored at New Beijing will find that they can just teleport back via this new fast travel system.

◉ Though for anyone who's been dealing with tampered food, maybe it's time to go take a break. You know where's a good place to do it? The Displaced-run Red Wings bar. Ah, poor Mister Doctor Strange, at least the people coming in out of nowhere are all Displaced looking for proper food and a drink. It's time to mingle, share notes, and see what's what. Might as well get to seeing where there's overlap—and what to do next.

◉ Or it's time to explore! The world is finally open and available to one and all. Well, to one Displaced and all.

◉ The information on these gates and what they do won't immediately be available to El and Gaby. It's up to the Displaced if they decide to share with their NPC friends. (Of course, if it's mentioned via the Morningstar network, then they'll know!)

> FINAL OOC NOTES

This is meant primarily as a laid back, return to life log for the Displaced after their exciting trips around the world (and trips-to-be, most likely). Any questions about the aftermath should be directed to our aftermath questions thread!

Our CR meme will be posted on February 14th (Happy Valentine's Day!), and our arrival log for all newbies will be going up on February 15th.

Thanks again for making this a great event!

> NAVIGATION

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Ephemera hums in agreement, sparing a final glance to the ceiling. There's no reason at all for him to be thinking about home. He hasn't stepped foot back there in years and he's been in caves since then, hundreds of them. He was underground less than an hour ago when all the shit went gone. But maybe it's just his brain making connections in the dark. Going back to the old memories in the face of something so abjectly fucking strange.

No point in that, though.

He rolls his shoulders, then follows Angela. She stays on his left side, covering his blindspot. It's a pattern they've fallen into lately, one that's gone unspoken. But there's trust between them now, a change Ephemera couldn't have predicted and probably should have fought. It runs counter to his mission, and the work he still needs to do. And yet.

And yet. ]

Noodles.

[ He nods, glancing at her briefly as he signs. ]

Something hot. You got ideas?

[Noodles. Man likes his noodles. She won't say no to that. A gooey pizza loaded with meat would be delicious, but that's not going to happen any time soon. There's a lot Ginia suddenly realizes she wants, or at least wants to try. If they really can hop to another city as easily as they did from the pyramids back to New Amsterdam, it'll be real useful.

Real nice if they need to escape and lay low for a bit.]

New Beijing and New Tokyo are known entities. I bet we could find some real good spicy noodles in Beijing.

[There's an echo of a conversation. Ginia smiles a bit at the memory of their spontaneous late-night excursion. They'll have to check timezones, but it might be a repeat of that again. Finding a quiet place to talk. Getting some food.

Once, Ginia might have thought they shouldn't be that close. Keep the lines clean and professional. Too late for that now. At least the chance of someone trying to hurt him to get to her feels lower here. No known enemies for that.

But it's always a possibility. Everything is always a possibility.

They find a hollow in a dead end off a branching path. Far enough away from everyone it should be fine. Ginia still settles where she can see people approaching but still shield her bag and belongings as needed. Along with the rifle, she picked up a machete, another handgun and extra magazines, and a solid nightstick.]

Did you know the guns are dead silent when they fire?

[ The names don't mean much to him beyond a vague recognition that they're places on Earth but he nods. Why not, right? It'll be like going to different spaceports. Seeing a different community, eating their food, and then going right back out again. Just like the old days. Ephemera nods and begins removing his new armor, one piece at a time. ]

Yeah. Shot one of the animals. Never seen anything quite like it. I don't think they're like silencers, either. It's a design feature, something that won't wear out after a couple rounds.

[ Useful as hell. ]

Have to be careful about conserving ammo, though. I've been asking around. You can get weapons if you ask the right people, but they're not cheap.

What? You're telling me with all your fancy armor and tech and diving from space, you don't have completely silenced guns?

[There's a mock look of shock the fades quick into a grin.]

I plan on breaking one of the handguns down once I've had more sleep. Seeing if it needs cleaning or if I can learn more about the mechanics without taking it down all the way.

[Because while she's curious about the hows, she's not an engineer. She's good with guns, can handle anything given to her, but that doesn't mean she could build one or truly modify it. That was always Cass's wheelhouse. Or Erika.

The realization she hasn't thought about her team in awhile is as shocking as the sudden longing for them. Ginia hides her face by intently studying the best way to pack everything back into the bags, pushing the thought of them away before she looks back up.]

I wonder which cost is more: the monetary or the personal debts?

[ He huffs a little, quipping a smile. ]

No. But get me when you start breaking it down. I can take a look, too.

[ Modifying weapons was always one of his skills. He practiced a lot. Had to be versatile in the field. Work with what he had, coordinate with his brothers and sisters. He installed the flamethrowers himself back on the Tartarus. The old rig would have been too heavy, made him too slow in the field without a full squad to cover him.

Besides. People should know how to care for their tools.

He shrugs at the question, then kneels to remove the grieves. Everything will have to be packed away, carefully secured. Armor is too important to treat carelessly. He waits until she looks at him again before signing, wondering what she's thinking. Why she's focused so intently on the packing. There's something there, under the surface. But everyone's entitled to their secrets, aren't they? Ephemera's certainly got enough of his own. ]

Anyone can get their hands on money. Rob a bank, roll some of the local gangs. It's not hard.

[ It's said with the casual indifference of someone who has clearly done exactly that in the past. ]

Favors, those add up.

In a world with physical currency, yes. When all the currency is entirely digital, diverting funds is going to be different.

[With all the network protections in her world on nanotechnology and personal info, you couldn't hack a person and steal their data. You still went after physical goods or locations. In this world, with how further things have moved into digital spheres to the point of no physical currency, diverting funds is trickier.

Not impossible. Trickier. Especially without leaving some sort of digital trail.]

I've been thinking about the mercenaries. I want to look into Global Spiral and whoever hired them. They have some connection to shipping, transportation if they were able to move us around without anyone stopping them.

[ There's that. Ephemera thins his mouth. He's not a hacker. All of his relevant skills apply in the physical world and he's still learning the rules for that one. ]

I can ask around. See if any of the fighters know anything. Might get lucky.

[ Not many of them are professional criminals, or mercs, but they're on the edge of that world. Know people who know people. There's a chance they could catch a break, learn something good. But if not, that'll mean asking questions to a whole different set of people and that's going to take introductions. Money to make said introductions. And a whole new set of rules to learn. Etiquette, the understandings underneath it all.

Ephemera huffs. Runs a hand through his hair. ]

It's a place to start, anyway.

[Ginia mulls on that as she starts to break down the rifle. Like with all else she does, her movements are efficient and fast. Weapon technology has marched forward, but it's not hard figuring out the changes. It'll be second nature by the time she reassembles the rifle.

Ephemera has the better in around the fighting rings. She's enough of a known entity no one hassles her about watching matches. She keeps up with Indy and Mika on Cooltalk too. But Ephemera has an established reputation only fighters have. No one would be too surprised if he started asking about mercenary groups. It's the practical choice getting information through him.]

If you do, be real careful.

[Ginia gives his arm a light pat. He's tough enough to watch out for himself, but there's still no denying the mercenaries grabbed the two of them too. Their drugs hit hard.

And as her only friend in this city, she can't afford to lose him. Doesn't want to.]

[ He starts to sign that she doesn't have to worry about that, but stops. Exhales. Because he would have told her the same thing if their positions were reversed, and it's not fair to pretend otherwise. ]

I will. Promise.

[ No point in getting killed over something like this. ]

Besides. Some of them even like me now.

Aren't you Mr. Popular.

[It doesn't surprise her. He's an incredible fighter and it's a crowd that respects that kind of strength. Amiable too, at least in his calm moments, though she doesn't fault his bad moments either. Can't really. Not when she's a pile of broken glass in a painted shell of rust.]

Anyone I should bet on if they aren't fighting you?

[She layers the body of the rifle at the bottom of the backpack and tucks in the first aid kits around it. Mixing in the other parts among supplies.]

[ Ephemera huffs. His smile is small, though no less genuine for it. It's strange to realize that he actually likes these people. That he feels safe operating around them. Not enough to trust them in his blindspot, not like he trusts Angela, but enough to talk with them. To spar with them, talk and sometimes even laugh at their jokes. That would have seemed impossible to him once. A threat he couldn't justify.

And yet, here they are. ]

Indy cleans up. And there's a man who does capoeira, Arjun. Flashy, but he knows how to move.

[ Capoeira's not a style that translates well to a person in full power armor and as such it's one that Ephemera has trouble knowing how to counter. Arjun's beaten him more than once. Not quite mean enough to be a threat in a real fight, when the stakes are higher than the monetary gains, but Ephemera likes the man. He's offered to get drinks with Ephemera more than once.

Maybe he'll take Arjun up on it, one of these days. ]

Not an asshole when he loses, either. Or even when he wins.

I like Indy. We chat on Cooltalk, her friend Mika too.

[Mika teaches yoga classes at one of the gyms. She's offered free passes to the classes, but Ginia hasn't found the time to drop by. Maybe one day. It's supposed to be good for flexibility. Meditation too, though Ginia isn't sure she could shut her mind off enough.]

I'll keep an eye out for Arjun too. I think I've seen him fight. I'm familiar with the style at least.

[It's good to know people outside of the Displaced. They need to fit in and getting along with the locals is one way. But there's a temporal sense of things too. That any moment they could disappear and be gone, so maybe it's best to not make such a presence either.]

I'm glad you're making friends.

[Ginia signs after a pause. Someone has to, after all.]

[ Ephemera nods, packing the last of the armor away. He's careful with it, deliberate. It's not like his rig back home but it's something beyond the scope of his own skin and bones. Proof that he's one step closer to his goals and thus precious beyond measure. But that's not something he can tell anyone in this place, no matter how much he likes them.

There have to be lines. Always and forever. ]

I used to be good at that.

[ Making friends. Few of them lasted long, but he'd always enjoyed meeting new people. Talking to them, figuring them out. Thought he'd been done with that when CT passed down his final mission. And maybe he had been, for a while.

Things are different now. He's only started to understand the scope of that.

He glances at Angela, wondering. She and Indy hit it off, not so long ago. ]

And you? You making friends?

Used to?

[She raises a brow and huffs at him as she figures out the best way to pack the machete into the backpack. There. All that's left is to roll up the holsters and strapping rigs.]

Sure. I get along with people. I work with a nice crew.

[Yet it's not really an answer to his question. Ginia turns her face away as she begins to take off the holsters she's accrued. She gets along with people, likes a lot of people. Uses friend casually because no one asks questions. But if really pressed to answer, maybe Ephemera is really her only one. Certainly the only person who has called her a friend in return and she knows he's not lying. Of course she likes Caroline Caldwell a lot; wouldn't room with her if not. But it's a different sort of relationship there. Allies. Practical.

She's a good ally. She's very practical to keep around. Maybe that's the extent of things, but she's not sure either. Proximity. Different rules. She's not necessarily a danger to people and it could be good to connect with others. Take Mika up on her yoga lessons. Have lunch with her coworkers.

But.

But.

What if it all breaks? What if she breaks things?

What if people find out the truth about her and decide there's nothing worth knowing?]

[ Used to. Ephemera thins his mouth, twitching a little. He shouldn't have said that. It's telling in a way he didn't intend. He runs a hand through his hair, watching Angela. She turns away for a moment, focused on her work, and he doesn't wave to get her attention. Just watches her for a moment, wondering.

It's true. She gets along with people. Knows how to blend into a crowd, how to make nice with strangers. But there's a difference between knowing how to make nice and actually getting to know another person. To get comfortable having someone at your back, knowing they could gut you at any moment and trusting that they won't.

He waits until she looks back at him before signing again, his expression thoughtful. ]

That's not hard. Getting along with people.

[ Ask some questions, pay attention, it works out. But the rest, that's harder. ]

You want to know any of them? Actually know them?

[Yes, but... Ginia thinks, and isn't that the problem? The what-if or the contradiction or problem waiting to get tackled on to the rest of her sentence. Reasons. Excuses.

Knowing someone means letting them know her in turn. And she has her fronts, has her lies, can smile and get along, and keep up a ruse, but then it isn't real. People like her construction. Angela Roberts. Angel.

No one knows Ginia. Maybe no one should.

She glances at Ephemera. Sure, they're friends now. He knows more about her than anyone else, yet it's still not much. She knows a fair amount about him, in the ways that could really hurt him.

He calls her Angela and smiles at her sometimes, and Ginia wonders how fast he would drop her if he knew the truth. If he knew how much of a liability she was.

I's not as if he needs you anymore. There's the voice in her head, the one that always hovers around her thoughts. He has armor. He has weapons. He knows vampires are stronger than you. What's stopping him from allying with them?

It's been a few seconds too long. Ginia keeps her expression level, but she needs to answer.]

Sure. It'd be nice to know people if I'm going to stay here.

[ That's an interesting way to phrase it. He tips his head to the side, wondering. ]

You got somewhere else to go?

[ It feels like an asshole move to deflect onto her to avoid talking about his own shit, but that's an odd whiting to say, isn't it? They've both been real careful not to talk about what might be waiting back home for either of them, but she told him once that there was nothing. He'd taken that to mean she'd been burned, that New Amsterdam was a fresh start.

Maybe not. Maybe he should have asked more questions. ]

Maybe I'll move to another city now that the world is opened up.

[Ginia drags her signs out a little in light sarcasm, but she knows it's not what she means and not what Ephemera is asking. A large part of her wants to clam up, change the subject, walk away, do anything but continue on this route of conversation because it's revealing too much about herself and there's no going back from that.

But they've shared too much with each other too. Too much to give him a cold shoulder when he's not meaning her any harm. Asking questions no different than how she asks questions. And she asks questions like an operative. He's not one. Not in the way she is.

For all she knows, he's asking because he's curious or he's concerned. That she doesn't know is probably a sign of how broken she is.]

We'll have been here a month in a few days.

[It sounds like a deflection, it isn't. It's only been a month and yet it feels like so much more time has passed. Maybe getting kidnapped a second time and dragged out to a pyramid has a way of skewing times.

A month ago, Ephemera asked her if she wanted to stay and she told him there was nothing left in her world. The broad sentiment is still true, but maybe a lot of that is her own fault. It's not as if there aren't people around who like her. It's not as if she wasn't rebuilding something.

But maybe it's better if she stays here. Keeps everyone safe by making sure no one can find her again.]

If I was thrown back to my world tomorrow, whether a month had passed in my world or not, nothing would really change. I'd go back to my job as a bouncer.

[Well, if a month had passed, there would probably be a lot of concerned texts and calls from Ty. Maybe even some messages from Cecelia. Or maybe she goes back and not even a second has passed. Who can tell. But nothing would really change and maybe that speaks to the stability of her life. Or the stagnation.]

But maybe it's safer if I stay here. For me, for the people I work with.

[ So there are people back in the world who know her, who would notice if she went missing. He sits with that for a moment. Watching her, wondering. He wouldn't have guessed she was a bouncer. With her training she could have done something more exciting and a hell of a lot more profitable. But there are reasons a person might lay low, too. More than once he's gotten the sense that she was burned back home. So maybe she needs to lie low. Went to ground in order to survive.

Maybe it's safer if I stay here.

Ephemera shrugs, still watching her. ]

But you do have people, don't you?

[ It's a genuine question. She hasn't talked about her past much and he hasn't pried. Maybe he should have asked more questions. Maybe he should have pushed a little harder. ]

I have people I'm useful to and they pay me for my services. Story of my life.

[There's a hard edge to her signs. Maybe it's too telling. Though she knows she shouldn't make a scene, though she knows she should breathe through and keep calm, there's been a lot to deal with over the last few days.]

What about you? What's so important for you to get back home and finish?

[His family is dead. He said he used to be good at making friends, though it's pretty clear he's good at that now. He fights with no regard for his well-being. Likes sharks and what they represent enough to tattoo it on his back. Has a quote from The Art of War tattooed on his back; she looked up the rest of the quote in the quiet moments and it's damn telling.

And there's so much rage and sorrow in him.]

[ It's strange to be on the other end of someone's anger. Almost funny, except that the anger is aimed at him. Not really. He's just the fucker who's pushing on a bruise and he's there, so why the fuck not? But usually he's the one playing that card. Snarling at the world so it won't get any closer.

Angela's anger is quieter. More subtle in some ways. But it's in her hands, and the way her eyes have gone hard at the edges.

Story of my life, she signs. And there's no mistaking the bitterness there, the anger underneath it.

Ephemera breathes out and gives her a small smile. Probably not a good one. He's good at anger. He knows it like an old friend. It's the other stuff that trips him up. ]

You really want to know?

[Story of her life, though most of the time she wasn't paid. Paid with her life, that was the trade off. What a fucking joke.]

I wouldn't be asking if I didn't want to know.

[Ginia hones her anger like a knife and she'll sink them into anyone around. It's a question she's wondered. Maybe should have pressed more right at the beginning. But they probably wouldn't be here now if she did.

There's no walking this moment back, but that's been the story of the last few days.]

[ He smiles without quite knowing why. But the answer is a simple one, in the end. It signed without embellishment, or indeed much emotion. There's close to nothing in his face and his hands are steady and cool as he signs. ]

My squad is dead. They were torn to pieces.

[ It should be an exaggeration. It isn't. They died hard and bloody in their armor. He thinks Chica and Barrows downed. He watched it go down on the monitors afterward, over and over again, and he has nightmares about the moment the big Freelancer grabbed Chica by the arm and held her up over the pier. How he brought her up just high enough to see it coming, to know she was going to die, and then he dropped her. Let her smash into the pier and break her skull on the way down. Ephemera remembers the sudden spray of blood. Tiny on the monitors, but so very red. And her hair flashing in the wind like a banner as she fell, as she impacted in the water and didn't come back up.

Breathe out.

He breathes. ]

They were my family. In every way that matters, they were my family. I know you didn't have that. I know that. But I loved them, all of them. My brothers, my sisters. Everything good I ever had in my life was because of them.

[ He smiles. He can't seem to stop, suddenly, and he's afraid that if he tries to speak out loud he's just going to start laughing, like a fucking crazy person, and that really wouldn't do anything. So it's probably better that they're signing. ]

I found the team that killed them. There's only two left. Only two. I'm going to kill them, Angela.

[People like them don't exaggerate. If he says they were torn to pieces, Ginia believes it without questioning. She sits there, listens. Flinches when he says "I know you didn't have that" but Ginia can't pretend it's wrong either. They've laid out the differences between their groups before.

Ephemera had a family. Loved them deeply, said they were good people. He talked about Barrows's cooking, and he's seen the paintings of two of them on the wall. A sister who still smiled so warm and bright even with telling scars. A brother who had his back and had an air of respect around him. The kind of person you listened to. With what he's assumed about her, Ginia imagines they were a tight knit group. The kind that lived and traveled and fought together.

That wasn't her reality. It was never going to be that no matter how hard she clung and cried and bled and wanted things to matter. No matter how much she wanted to matter.

Didn't she tell him earlier she envied how he knew what to do? That he had a plan, a goal? Now she knows it and the words feel like ash. Her anger burns away as she sits there, stares at him as he smiles. There's a look in his eye, something a little wild, something delicate, something broken.

He's the last one left. He's going back home to kill the people responsible for ruining his life.

Ginia can't pretend she doesn't understand the need for revenge. Sometimes she remembers dreams about returning to the compound. Killing everyone there responsible for making her and her team. The nanotechnicians, the guards, the trainers, paint the concrete red and then smash it all down. Sometimes she wonders what she'd do if she ran into one of the trainers at a bar. Maybe he walks in for a drink with his buddies and Ginia checks his ID at the door. Maybe she goes to the club to dance with friends Ginia's watching the crowd.

But what good would it do? What good does revenge really do? Ginia knows how it feels good in the moment, but can breed anger, retaliation, more deaths. And when she sometimes really lets herself think on it, Ginia knows so many people have the right to hunt her down. There's a personal death count in the high hundreds. Thousands if she includes a culminate team count. Millions, in term of global impact. Ginia knows the lives she's ruined, the survivors left behind. Someone in that number has to want her dead too, right?

There's always someone meaner. Always someone better.

Ginia doesn't cast judgment on why Ephemera's family was killed. Not her place. Doesn't matter really. She tips her head toward the ceiling of the cave system and exhales. Counts the seconds away as she empties her lungs entirely. A few more seconds on the inhale. She moves fast; he knows this. Ginia moves fast and catches Ephemera in a tight hug. A hand around his shoulder, one on the back of his head.

Don't go, cries her fear as she clings to him, chests glowing bright from the contact. Don't go, don't do it. Because he'll go and she'll never see him again and loneliness is a terrifying prospect after having a connection with someone.

Ephemera will go, and she'll never see him again, and he'll probably die because she's seen him fight. Knows the disregard for his body. Has felt his sorrow and emptiness as keen as her own. When rage burns out and the job is done, and loss is all you have...

I understand, purrs her anger. Because if someone takes something from you, the only thing to do is to make them regret it. Never mind if you have to break the world, why should people get away with breaking yours?

You fucking idiot, sighs her sorrow because she's been there before. Knows the cycles and how it never ends and it's all hopeless and exhausting and there's no escaping it.

And at the very bottom of her feelings, a tiny unidentifiable feeling, so easy to miss or ignore, whispers, You have me now. Doesn't that count for something?]

[ He doesn't see it coming. That's the point he'll return to later, when the dust has settled. That he was too caught up in his own head to see her move and when his head finally made the connection, she was already in too close. One arm around his shoulder and a hand at the back of his head, pinning him tight. And he flinches. Stupidly, he flinches.

It shouldn't matter. She already hugged him back in the desert. They held hands in the aftermath, reaching out willingly to activate the empathy bond and paint the walls blue. But it had been more than that, too. More than just necessity. There had been trust, the sort of connection Ephemera had thought he had left behind. He let himself forget what it felt like. Fell into the battlefield patterns. Everyone is an enemy and every enemy wants to destroy you.

Do not let them, soldier. Finish your mission. Finish your fucking mission.

Their chests glow blue right through their clothes and Ephemera shudders all over. He feels too much. She understands and she knows and she wants, and he is so, so tired. The anger is comforting, a focus point in a universe that makes too much sense, and so he treasures it like a friend. But he can't be angry all the time, not in a way that matters, and it's those quiet moments that kill him. Because he starts talking to people and he'll come to know them if he's not careful. And he does know her, now.

Not in all ways. Not like his sisters. But it's been so very long since he's had a friend that his first impulse is to reach up and run a hand through her hair. To offer whatever comfort he can because Angela seems so very alone and she deserves something better. A chance to live her life, to find her people. Everyone should have that at least once.

He thinks of her origami, strangely. The precision of the angles. The sound it makes when she folds a crease. Clean, exact. And yet she still comes away with a picture at the end. A symbol, something tangible, that can be held in hand. He called her a SPARTAN when they first met and intended it as a taunt, a warning. I know what you are.

Funny, that. They know too much about each other now.

He shivers all over. Stands rigidly for too long, expecting pain. Her grip is solid, her hands strong, but she doesn't snap his neck. Doesn't slip a knife into his throat. Just holds him, one hand in his hair, brushing the edge of his scars, and the other arm tight around his shoulder.

Breathe, little brother.

Slowly, very slowly, he leans forward and bumps their heads together.

This cannot last. He knows how it's going to end. But, selfishly, he's glad they had a chance to met. That they could stand together for a little while. He thought he was done with that. Not enough of a person left in him to try. But here they are, here they stand, and there's a part of him that wishes it could last. He reaches up and touches her hair, lightly.

It won't last. But it's nice, for a moment. ]

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