Ayatan (They/Them) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ayatantreasure) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nexus_crossings2022-02-23 08:12 am
ayatantreasure) wrote in nexus_crossings2022-02-23 08:12 am
+1 Space Ninja
This place reminds them of Cetus, a little. Not quite as bustling and busy with the snow blanketing the walkways, but the closed shopfronts and toned-down open air markets suggest that the dry seasons might be comparable - surpass it even. They've been doing recon for several days now, first by observing from rooftop perches, then mingling among the pedestrians. It seems odd to walk among people of so many different sizes and shapes, and almost never be looked at twice. Never recognized for what they are.
No fear. No adoration. They can just... be.
It's a start.
The warframe is tall as an adult human, metal skin glinting slightly in the faded winter sunlight, hoof-like feet stepping lightly despite the metallic scrape against snow-dusted concrete. The long ribbon-like syandana attached to their back flutters softly in the breeze, a playful contrast to the weapons they carry on their back - a sword, some kind of rifle, a pouch of throwing knives. Their hands are empty, though, flexing yellow fingers absently as if trying to grasp something intangible.
Finally, they choose a perch on the edge of the walkway that passes by the Plaza, balanced effortlessly in a crouch atop a low wall. They raise one hand, projecting an image of words in a swooping script, which the Nexus then translates:
Have you ever dreamed so deeply you forgot who you were?
No fear. No adoration. They can just... be.
It's a start.
The warframe is tall as an adult human, metal skin glinting slightly in the faded winter sunlight, hoof-like feet stepping lightly despite the metallic scrape against snow-dusted concrete. The long ribbon-like syandana attached to their back flutters softly in the breeze, a playful contrast to the weapons they carry on their back - a sword, some kind of rifle, a pouch of throwing knives. Their hands are empty, though, flexing yellow fingers absently as if trying to grasp something intangible.
Finally, they choose a perch on the edge of the walkway that passes by the Plaza, balanced effortlessly in a crouch atop a low wall. They raise one hand, projecting an image of words in a swooping script, which the Nexus then translates:
Have you ever dreamed so deeply you forgot who you were?
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Seeking perspective. Perhaps a bit vague on their part as well, but once they feel confident their message has been understood, the text changes with a flick of their fingers. What help did you have?
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The question gives him pause, although it's only a matter of deciding which 'dream' to talk about. "Where I come from, there's someone who can make people dream. And he pushed me under, until I literally thought I was someone else. It was-" His eyes narrow slightly. "-difficult, realizing the truth. But better in the long run, I think."
He realizes he's been looking at the ground and looks back up to meet the warframe's...eyes? He's not entirely sure, but the humanoid appearance has to be there for some reason. "Are you worried you've forgotten yourself?"
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Impossible to explain, especially in such short messages. Still not sure who to trust, either. Especially now. Still, there's a mutual understanding here, and they tilt their head a little in acknowledgment.
I was also made to dream.
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Sylar nods, a small frown on his face. As far as he's concerned, that's all that needs to be said.
"I'm sorry. It'll probably take a long time to work through everything. Took me years, honestly." He gives the warframe a small, apologetic smile. This is going to be tough for them. "But things did, eventually, become clear. I was able to separate what I wanted, who I was, from everything that'd been done to me."
Considering how mixed up he'd been (even before the 'forced dream,' really), he's hopeful for the person in front of him.
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They remain like that for a span of heartbeats, then raise their head again, opening their fingers once more to project another message.
How do you remind yourself what's real?
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"I had to find an anchor." He sticks his hands in his pockets, a tic he's picked up recently whenever he's feeling nervous. "Something that I knew to be true, that would readjust my perspective and center my reality, whenever it slid out of whack. I- well, I didn't exactly do well with that, at first. It might take you a few tries to find something- or someone- you can rely on. It'll still feel like you're fumbling around in the dark, but- it helps."
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He shakes his head. He has no idea if this entity would even know what a snow globe was. "But if you're lucky enough to find a person willing to help you, someone you can even remotely trust- that'll help more."
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Finally, they nod slightly, and raise a hand again to project a message. I need a lotus. Do you know where I can find one?
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Taking care of a live plant probably has some therapeutic benefits, too, going by one of the books he'd been reading recently. But who knows if this is a situation where one can take care of a plant? "There's also jewelry shaped like lotus flowers, if that won't work. Pendants and crystal paperweights, things like that. Any of that sounding like it'd work for you?"
no subject