heavenbled

[heavenbled]

*walks into your house* its quite lovely in here i *spots a ghostly apparition* ...................well first who is that saultry little binch in the corner

[heavenbled]

being immortal and having DID must be crazy. yeah our boy Carlos hasn't fronted in 300 years and just woke up to the sound of Uptown Funk and started screaming

[heavenbled]

nighthawk and their god complex.

so… i really think it started formulating in her mind the most back when sao was the sole individual that had become an iron lady. this was the highest point in her life, the era that had been ushered in by a single moment hidden amongst the defeat she'd taken from efrideet and jolder during her challenge. this is the very same woman who had been taught she'd never be strong enough, even with immortality / 'limitless' healing + light, losing those that she cared about and had been tasked to protect would canonically end in failure. she's used to being the woman doomed by the narrative.

but after all that training she did, after becoming the violence-ridden lightbearer she became to kill countless eliksni, cabal, and whatever else she could pick off with her power, sao finally thought herself strong-willed enough to stand up to the ones who have been making the names for themselves amongst mortals and warlords alike. and that's what drove her to corner them in that tavern, that's the drive they saw that brought forth the iron oath to her months later after they'd taken her up the mountain. finally being able to prove herself to even those she might've regarded as idols had been enough to kick-start some sort of… cover-up part of her beliefs. overcompensation, but only recently getting turned to the max.

sao finally had a part in a community that wanted to help save people. to 'stick up for the little guy' while also standing up to the big bads that the mortals had no hope of surviving otherwise. corrupted warlords, vex minds or eliksni captains, cabal colossi. finally feeling as if the power she'd been granted was finally being utilized the way it should be, and if that's to mean she's just a step higher above the rest, sao took it and held on to it with her fucking fingernails.

and when she was too apprehensive, too scared and perhaps too cowardly to traverse the SIVA bunkers with her iron lords, sao's belief that she was higher than anyone else crumbled. and by god it crumbled fast. she tore herself apart from the inside out, she condemned everything she stood for and everything that she'd done from that point on. all the killing, all the 'grinding' for it all to end up in the waste -- and for people better than her to be permanently killed, while the disgrace lived on and survived them because of her own inability to face her fears?

the dissonance was so great within her mind in conjunction with the guilt, that it really is almost this equivalent of mitosis… right down the crack that had existed there prior to being revived as a lightbearer, what the light had filled in with molten gold but was still something that could be broken again under such immense stress; two minds that split from each other, and a fractured brain's wish to scorn and to repent. perhaps sao was the one who was the dark side that neptune couldn't stand to live with, the wish to unleash rage on, or maybe neptune was the one who sao desperately wanted to repent from, to bear the sins of as she tread across the grit of the sand in the abandoned and desecrated deserts.

and when neptune had fully formed and come out of the dissociative fugue, finally finding her footing with who she was and what she wanted to do with her light, she took to pit fighting in the reef. shapeshifting and infiltrating every single one as a different identity for years, sometimes keeping one for the long run just to play that sort of ball game… but that's a different conversation on the why and the how she lives those days. but rising through those ranks, coming from, herself, another form of 'rock bottom' in parallel to sao, she found the gladiator pits… somehow, a sanction and rank higher than the dusty old underground ones. there was some sort of acclaim, some sort of endorsements available from the awoken, sometimes even from the crows in all their mystery, sometimes from even jolyon. sometimes the prince himself.

neptune became damn fucking good at what she did, and what she did was fight and hurt things. because down the road, somewhere along the line it shifted in her mind that her enemies were not just another enemy and a person also hooking their punch, but a thing. something beneath her… something that she could not just easily overcome, but use as just another scratch mark on her ledger. she saw herself as the untouchable, but when she reached those highs and found herself becoming contracted with the last city / the vanguage, the acidic pits of her mind began to rise and burn her up from the inside once again.

never good enough. a god, untouchable, unreachable, undefeatable; but never good enough, all the same. guiltridden and confined to the shackles of the reasonings that had been lost on her for centuries, neptune sank into the polarizing opposite ends that eventually led to the explosive blowout between her and sao at sao's later reemergence.

fast forward that bit, and for neptune to have also killed oryx, the taken king, and earning herself the underscored title kingslayer? for the fact that sao had also been the one to take down SIVA from the inside, to finally offer her iron lords' bodies the peace of being killed and severed from this plane, to finally not be paraded around as puppets beyond their days. to become some sort of semi-savior to the awoken even later, during the worst of their curse… the accomplishments stacked up, and up, and even when they were both struggling with how they viewed themselves and each other, it had still always been just right there.

the fact that sao was the one to run away from the iron lords though… neptune's wrath against her really did last for years. to be so utterly betrayed and the fact that it was still you who did it, even if you weren't the one who held those memories or had even been remotely conscious during that time. to be so horribly disgusted with yourself and the one who you inhabited a body and mind with… to know that you had done a terrible, terrible thing in a past life and still have to be the one who's accountable for such a choice.

sao is the scorned, neptune is the god. or… could it be that sao's the god, and neptune's the scorned? sao's wrath of what neptune takes for granted, and does not realize in the face of sao's suffering -- that she is the one who shields, she is the one who holds the true power behind experience and wisdom, she is the one who had to fight her way from nothing when neptune has it all, and always has. the woman of many faces, while sao tended to stick to herself or an animal… to be one with the universe around her, versus a lie upheld because neptune simply cannot live with the fact that it's her underneath it all.

[heavenbled]

Many are not familiar with what is called a diva moment. Youre about to learn

[heavenbled]

define me by three things; the agony I have endured, the agony I have seen, and the agony I have given.

[heavenbled]

felwinter calculates the entire span of time the silence stretched on for, a poignant and pregnant thing in the face of heavy-handed abject curiosity. felspring records the seconds, < five in total - and there appears to be a half second's delay in speech >, and when warmind dares to speaks again, the lord confirmed it to be a deliberate decision deemed best by those infinitely firing processors. such an interesting, ironic point it was... to have once been surrounded by the best of humanity, by laughter and thought disillusioned by the very human thing they experienced to be emotion.

to have valued such differences, to have even taken up to adopting those same mannerisms into himself.

and now existing in the very presence of the machine himself, ( THE MACHINE WHO KILLED THEM ALL ), where such an ill-timed pause to a human would've exacerbated their emotions rather than salved. to hold the knowledge because of his own similarity, that such a pause was calculated, a formula in every regard. < the formula works. >

he didn't need that reminder.

systems edge closer to the barrier he had set for himself, a baseline that had not soothed entirely since prior reconstruction process.

and so felwinter takes a trained breath, artificial lungs and diaphragm working in conjunction, expanding and he could feel it within his chest cavity enough to have once confused him. though now, while it had been a source of contemptuous ire during the days he was naive and so very new, something he didn't need to do to function at high capacity - it morphed. drew him closer to those that he lost. felwinter had been told it would help him, that it was a way to carry them at his side as he survived those that he'd catastrophically failed. to let be, and flow like the cosmic river old nighthawk had conceptualized for him.

all of that, in the span of a millisecond - all of that processing, and reminiscing, and rasputin had taken the time to wait five entire second-years to regale him with the fact that he has experienced a spectrum of emotion. fire-like orange ignites within cheeks long before the module in his throat can crackle and breathe to life the words he forms instantly, " i wonder if the desperation and fear you taught me within the first instances of my new life are something you could even come close to feeling in that spectrum. " poison, like poison could infect machine; easily detectable within the equally-deliberate slight tone he spoke in.

( are you proud of me, warmindcreaturefather? are you proud of the humanity i've gained? are you proud of the warlordexecutionerironlordgolem that walks between the world of machine and the world of flesh? )

lord target-locks immediately onto the figure that moves, as he tends to the life in the planters; to which note upon note and database upon database is accessed with light-speed to reference and inform all of what thrived there. who had planted it all... and the task that rasputin had taken on for himself. < we'll have to reach out to this ' revan ' later. >

felwinter stares. and he does not look away this time. " ...you know of the lightbearer, sol. " < do you really want to cross into this territory with him? > " i have been in contact with her once again. her, and that which i now know to be nighthawk. " the lights that burn bright for his optics dim, for a fraction of a second's time. " their progress, over time. i ask that you allow me to turn this conversation around on you, warmind, because i have reasonable assumption you've been surveilling them. inform me of their years. i wish to know the true extent of what i have lost. "

⠀⠀There's a human saying—’live in the moment’. Built for exacting precision with singular purpose, synthetic intelligence lives not in ill-defined moments but in seconds and the space between. 

⠀⠀Rasputin pauses for five seconds. Significant for Felwinter, who can process complex battlefield tactics in a second. For a Warmind, a consciousness so immense it stretches across space, it is eternity. Felwinter must know this but Rasputin hopes—trusts—that his son will understand.  Recollecting the vast sum of his lived experiences, parsing it—translating code to words, data to emotion—takes time. Warminds lack the biochemistry and organs necessary for ‘emotion’ in the organic sense of the term. Their existence, writ in letters, numbers, ciphers; constant learning / adapting / growing.

⠀⠀The highs and lows of Rasputin’s life are data–rich. On a line graph: rigid, jagged fluctuations like seismogram readings in periods of distress, gentle bell curves in lighter moments. He wonders if Felwinter thinks him unfeeling. That the Tyrant is barren of emotion, save the desperate need for control, like his creator. For all his intellect, Clovis never learned to open his palm and let go. To bend his will to another’s whims and wants. It’s a hard lesson to learn but learn Rasputin has, in red: SIVA and bloodspill and his son’s new dawn. 

“I have experienced a spectrum of emotion,” he concludes, the words coming after an unexpected 0.5 second lag. A reflexive diagnostic comes back clean but Rasputin is learned enough to diagnose this particular problem. A discordance between his greater self, a brief stutter in the dataflow between NARAYANA GOLEM and AI-COM/RSPN. The latter’s reluctance to share sensitive (personal) data—but willingness to yield, if it helps Felwinter. 

⠀⠀Movement. Tap–tap–tap against the back of his hand. Rasputin’s optics oscillate, attention drawn to the ladybug traversing planes of titanium alloy. Watches it crawl across the mesh and silicone padding of his palm. Lowering his hand to a leaf, he waits patient and still for the creature to alight. 

“Is there one in particular you wish to discuss?” he asks, sinking to a knee to continue his work. This harvest will be bountiful, and perhaps the next will be, too. It’s pleasing to see Revan’s work bear fruit—the metaphorical and literal kind.

[heavenbled]

look, his ghost is called felspring, you can’t tell me he hasn’t said this at least once,

[heavenbled]

it's enabling. IT'S ENABLINGGGGG

[heavenbled]

gaemblr​:

@lrdfel : " i do it all in the name of justice. "

                 ”  that’s  some  heavy - handed  justice,  pal,  ”  cayde  answers,  but  does  not  disapprove.       as far as he’s concerned,   sticking his nose into the iron lord’s business is exactly the type of thing he plans to avoid,   at least for this trip.   after all,   he did promise elsie he’d be on his best behaviour,   and he intends to keep his word.   for the most part.   truth be told,   the iron lord’s ruthless dispatching of his enemies is as beautiful as it is terrifying   ;   cayde wasn’t risen this early during the wall’s construction,   but he’s heard stories of life during this time.   the tyranny of warlords working mortals to the bone,   and the nightmare that was the fallen   —   baby eaters,   butchers,   and the works.   but among the rising heroes and shining knights,   felwinter stands out,   the dark horse of the iron lords,   dispensing justice in all its brutal finality.   it brings cayde a certain satisfaction to watch. 

   (   there’s also something about felwinter that sets cayde’s programming off   —   part of him recognises the other exo as ally   /   friend.   a smaller part has slapped red threat level warnings all over him,   and refuses to be quelled when cayde tries to shut that little line of programming down.   it’s intruiging.   it’s freaky.   it’s distracting as hell.   )   

       “ they got what was comin’ to ‘em, ”   he finally says,   looking down at the dead warlord’s corpse and the shattered shell of their ghost.   the sight strikes a chord in his chest and cayde looks away,   abruptly anxious and uncomfortable.   he takes a breath he doesn’t need,   two breaths.   “ there’s honour in that,   deliverin’ justice to those who can’t take it for themselves.   ‘s a worthy cause.   a good cause.   guess at the end of the day,   its all y’can really do. ” 

meme i didn’t reblog

      he could go off and recite every single word he knows by heart to those who witness , question , or demonize him for all that he does    ;    but he simply doesn’t . he sets lingering gaze on cayde - 6 , before turning to the warlord and scooping dead ghost to lay pieces on their chest . in all her time , felspring is also quiet , for it was a more    …    sacred moment to the both of them , the act of justice . of mercy for the world around them that seemed to want them dead . bitter thoughts cease with a twitch of fingers , and he rises tall , securing shotgun to his back , closing eyes and letting snowfall blanket him with the rest of the small hill . 

      moments of this passes , he listens to every word cayde utters    ;    eventually , when exo falls silent in nothing more to add , felwinter turns to him with orange eyes aglow and hollow . “    you are unnerved .    “ scripts don’t matter , not to another who was not so easily clouded as others might be . “    that’s why i do what i do . so others don’t have to commit immoral acts and live with the guilt on their conscience .    “ he brushes the spikes of his shoulder armor, then his chest. 

      “    the iron decree is changing the world . killing fellow risen is considered immoral now .    “ repetition brings the message home , he’s realized in all his years , emphasizes the point of the matter and the gravity of words . the ideas . “     it’s why i don’t speak of what i do . the other lords do not approve , i don’t expect them to .    “ cayde - 6 , a loose cannon , a lone wolf , one of the first hunters to gather in a team and begin to change the environment and understanding of a planet that was once everyone’s . there was a baseline of respect already there , interest piquing at every word the exo spoke .he was so different . he was so emotional . he was human , deep down , felwinter realized . 

[heavenbled]

"how are you doing?"

well *wipes tears* *takes a hit* *coughs for 5 minutes* *takes a swig of water* *takes a painkiller* *takes another swig of water* *pauses music* im living deliciously

[heavenbled]

— You're floating again.

[heavenbled]

nighthawk and their god complex.

so… i really think it started formulating in her mind the most back when sao was the sole individual that had become an iron lady. this was the highest point in her life, the era that had been ushered in by a single moment hidden amongst the defeat she'd taken from efrideet and jolder during her challenge. this is the very same woman who had been taught she'd never be strong enough, even with immortality / 'limitless' healing + light, losing those that she cared about and had been tasked to protect would canonically end in failure. she's used to being the woman doomed by the narrative.

but after all that training she did, after becoming the violence-ridden lightbearer she became to kill countless eliksni, cabal, and whatever else she could pick off with her power, sao finally thought herself strong-willed enough to stand up to the ones who have been making the names for themselves amongst mortals and warlords alike. and that's what drove her to corner them in that tavern, that's the drive they saw that brought forth the iron oath to her months later after they'd taken her up the mountain. finally being able to prove herself to even those she might've regarded as idols had been enough to kick-start some sort of… cover-up part of her beliefs. overcompensation, but only recently getting turned to the max.

sao finally had a part in a community that wanted to help save people. to 'stick up for the little guy' while also standing up to the big bads that the mortals had no hope of surviving otherwise. corrupted warlords, vex minds or eliksni captains, cabal colossi. finally feeling as if the power she'd been granted was finally being utilized the way it should be, and if that's to mean she's just a step higher above the rest, sao took it and held on to it with her fucking fingernails.

and when she was too apprehensive, too scared and perhaps too cowardly to traverse the SIVA bunkers with her iron lords, sao's belief that she was higher than anyone else crumbled. and by god it crumbled fast. she tore herself apart from the inside out, she condemned everything she stood for and everything that she'd done from that point on. all the killing, all the 'grinding' for it all to end up in the waste -- and for people better than her to be permanently killed, while the disgrace lived on and survived them because of her own inability to face her fears?

the dissonance was so great within her mind in conjunction with the guilt, that it really is almost this equivalent of mitosis… right down the crack that had existed there prior to being revived as a lightbearer, what the light had filled in with molten gold but was still something that could be broken again under such immense stress; two minds that split from each other, and a fractured brain's wish to scorn and to repent. perhaps sao was the one who was the dark side that neptune couldn't stand to live with, the wish to unleash rage on, or maybe neptune was the one who sao desperately wanted to repent from, to bear the sins of as she tread across the grit of the sand in the abandoned and desecrated deserts.

and when neptune had fully formed and come out of the dissociative fugue, finally finding her footing with who she was and what she wanted to do with her light, she took to pit fighting in the reef. shapeshifting and infiltrating every single one as a different identity for years, sometimes keeping one for the long run just to play that sort of ball game… but that's a different conversation on the why and the how she lives those days. but rising through those ranks, coming from, herself, another form of 'rock bottom' in parallel to sao, she found the gladiator pits… somehow, a sanction and rank higher than the dusty old underground ones. there was some sort of acclaim, some sort of endorsements available from the awoken, sometimes even from the crows in all their mystery, sometimes from even jolyon. sometimes the prince himself.

neptune became damn fucking good at what she did, and what she did was fight and hurt things. because down the road, somewhere along the line it shifted in her mind that her enemies were not just another enemy and a person also hooking their punch, but a thing. something beneath her… something that she could not just easily overcome, but use as just another scratch mark on her ledger. she saw herself as the untouchable, but when she reached those highs and found herself becoming contracted with the last city / the vanguage, the acidic pits of her mind began to rise and burn her up from the inside once again.

never good enough. a god, untouchable, unreachable, undefeatable; but never good enough, all the same. guiltridden and confined to the shackles of the reasonings that had been lost on her for centuries, neptune sank into the polarizing opposite ends that eventually led to the explosive blowout between her and sao at sao's later reemergence.

fast forward that bit, and for neptune to have also killed oryx, the taken king, and earning herself the underscored title kingslayer? for the fact that sao had also been the one to take down SIVA from the inside, to finally offer her iron lords' bodies the peace of being killed and severed from this plane, to finally not be paraded around as puppets beyond their days. to become some sort of semi-savior to the awoken even later, during the worst of their curse… the accomplishments stacked up, and up, and even when they were both struggling with how they viewed themselves and each other, it had still always been just right there.

the fact that sao was the one to run away from the iron lords though… neptune's wrath against her really did last for years. to be so utterly betrayed and the fact that it was still you who did it, even if you weren't the one who held those memories or had even been remotely conscious during that time. to be so horribly disgusted with yourself and the one who you inhabited a body and mind with… to know that you had done a terrible, terrible thing in a past life and still have to be the one who's accountable for such a choice.

sao is the scorned, neptune is the god. or… could it be that sao's the god, and neptune's the scorned? sao's wrath of what neptune takes for granted, and does not realize in the face of sao's suffering -- that she is the one who shields, she is the one who holds the true power behind experience and wisdom, she is the one who had to fight her way from nothing when neptune has it all, and always has. the woman of many faces, while sao tended to stick to herself or an animal… to be one with the universe around her, versus a lie upheld because neptune simply cannot live with the fact that it's her underneath it all.

[heavenbled]

nighthawk's whole thing is like. if you were to have catholic guilt but you're the god who you've forsaken and unleashes wrath / you're the worshiper who's been scorned and needs to repent

[heavenbled]

kinda brought about the idea of bringing over hair representing character stories to nighthawk as well, as it's something i've been exploring with kai but. twin to twin communication, she shall undergo the same shit. as a result, sao has gone from long hair being a part of her preferred appearance to now having a straight buzzcut, a way of symbolizing her letting go of the wars she's been in since the witness fell.

neptune's... figuring it out still. she's got the half-shaved head with long hair on top, but lately that buzzer's been looking real good.

[heavenbled]

do i dare.... do i dare succumb to the mumu also getting a carrd......

[heavenbled]

it's always just one more; one more enemy, one more thing to kill, one more head to puncture. one more bridge to burn. over and over again for century upon century, to the point where even sao herself can't bring the memories up from the sludgy depths that has become her shared ( IT'S BROKEN, YOU IDIOT ) mind. with another pop and chitin falling to the floor with a sickly noise, some essence of darkness spilling forth into the atmosphere-less ship... her eyelids flutter from under celestial nighthawk, but they don't close all the way - she sniffs, and pulls back from the scope of her rifle as she ejects the cartridge to replace with a full one.

that was, objectively, a waste of ammo. sniper shot for an acolyte? gettin' jumpy on us, now?

with a lopsided tug of her lips and an exasperated scoff, hunter braces hands on the ( god, kai would've been screaming at this disgusting cover ) floor before pushing herself up / bending knee and placing foot down to stand in one swift motion. doesn't place rifle on over the magnet on her back, but rather slowly swivels head for a full environmental scan / glancing at HUD radar for confirmation of no incoming and immediate threat. ( you talk big shit, you. )

she holds a hand out to the space beside her, triton materializing on cue. the lights that illuminate the space around him float up in the most mesmerizing way, though mission-sao doesn't allow herself to get caught up in the beauty and familiarity of her closest friend's shell. "hey. send a message to sol for me? record, mark -" though she does allow for the slightest dip into the space sol allowed, "also, i forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer."

pauses, glancing slightly up at the space above triton's shifting parts with pensiveness. "addition: 'cause i fell asleep on the couch. sorry-yyy, love you so much my dearest." corners of her lips twitch once again, lessened than before but present all the same as her neck bends forward slightly and head dips, "addition... heart emoji, heart emoji."

no... her guilt hadn't gone away. she doesn't know if it ever will. but this was always a start, and they were always starting with every adjustment to domesticity, to something like a semblance to a fucking life.

a break from what this was.

the smile disappears from sao's lips entirely, eyebrows finding their natural place into a downwards pinch as a scowl finds itself settling comfortably both on her face and in her heart. fucking liar. she wanted to go home. ( so why don't we go home? ) what even was home? ( with her. ) was she truly home? did she want to be home? did she ever think of herself to be the place they could both rest their head? did she WANT TO BE HOME - ( chill the fuck out. )

sao shakes her head with a sharp inhale / shoulders rising, 'fore taking her rifle up and shooting a slug right into the faraway wall. turns her head towards her ghost, their loyal and precious ghost, and nods. "i think we've done enough for now. we all know they're just gonna keep coming, so - uh... city time. tri, send another message for me, bud." rifle arm lifts as her other hand lets releases, and with the soft mechanical whirring does she lift and place adored into its slot on her back. "record, mark: i'm on my way back now. looking forward to that dinner, maybe even some dessert?" lips curl into a half-smirk, fangs glinting in the light of the distant sun before she dematerializes to her ship triton brought around.

"i'll see you soon, babe."

Dawn ignites the sky as Sol returns home. It's a novel concept—home, not dawn, though she can't deny her surprise at living long enough to witness the latter. A daily thought between the shitshow of her latest mission and the monumental task of existing, much less living, it's a surprise—and not always a pleasant one. Yet here she is, home at last. A wisp of cool air escapes as she opens the front door; the house sighing, its heart half full. No telling when the other half will return, strike ops are unpredictable as can be. Sol stands in the doorway, staring into the house down the barrel of the living room —KNIFE IN HAND, BLOODIED, ACHING; GIEGER COUNTER TICK TICK TICKING AS THE EARTH IGNITES BENEATH HER FEET. “COWARD,” SHE SNARLS, AND— steps inside, crouching to unlace her boots. 

This is the hardest part. Not the blood on her hands or dealing with the monster she's made of herself, not even her continued survival; coming home. Coming home means there are no neat lines or boxes in which she can think. It means there's no separation between the Sol who uses friendly fire only as a last resort and the Sol who rains fire on friends when her temper so often outpaces her grip on it. It means shifting from weapon to person, and the line between the two is growing thinner every day. It's a monumental ask for someone who still caves to blood lust and battle fever as a means of stress relief. But it's getting easier to put down the knife afterwards. A pithy comfort, one she'll take nonetheless. 

Decompressing alone is a change from—what’s now the norm. It's familiar, though Sol’s no longer certain she appreciates it. Company for a long time makes the heart lonely when alone, or something, she doesn't know, isn't particularly keen on unpacking those feelings just yet. She strips off her gear, cleans it, squares it away. It's in the middle of disarming herself (literally) that she notices the missed message. Sol pauses, taking note of the timestamp, a muted notification she received in the field, before opening it with a flick of her eyes. Blinks at the text rolling across her HUD. 

💬 [ sms / @heavenbled ] also i forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer cause i fell asleep on the couch sorryyyy love you soo much my dearest <3 <3

Something like a lightning strike jolts her heart, the sensation not entirely unpleasant. It travels down her arms, sparks arcing over gloved knuckles. Sol ducks her head, breath momentarily escaping her, and rubs her closed fist against her thigh. No longer connected to the scorch and prickling heat of Solar; it's harder to distinguish the fuzzy-hearth warmth and static of Arc Light from her own emotions. Crow's feet crease, lips curl. Sol exhales slowly. It's so easy to smile when her wife is on her mind.

[ sms ] lucky for you, i can work with that. be brave, my love. stay frosty. dinner will be ready when you're home. 

[heavenbled]

i've been trying to marinate on pokemon verses for both nighthawk and kaifeng, and while i've got a more solid basis and foundation for kai, it's. lo and behold real hard to integrate a destiny lore-addled oc into any other verse other than destiny lol. i'm getting there though, with some light 4th wall breaking...

anyway. all this to say this is the draft i've got for nighthawk's ( aka legally known as (sam)ira ) pokemon team is this:

no nicknames, and there is a distinct type favorite between both parts of her. sao trains the dark types, neptune trains the fire types, and houndoom had been an effort on both of their sides to work cohesively together. gallade is a sword extension, but also his psychic abilities help to regulate them both + navigate a somewhat-ish normal life with a severe disorder.

nighthawk's main weapon in their main destiny verse is the giant ass longsword, sao earned her title "kingslayer" both as a modern guardian and an iron lady centuries ago with it. neptune's more keen on using a simpler sword, but she's still partial to one above any other heavy slot ... thus brings about the 'sharp' pokemon on their team, ceruledge and gallade.

there's also the shapeshifting, so of course. zoroark on there. and ahamkara ( wish dragon ) essence? hydreigon. send fucking tweet