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What the fuck is wrong with you? No, really. What the FUCK is going on? You were just fine back in Duviri. If complete apathy and occasional spikes of anger or disappointment could be considered fine, that is. And now? Now something’s happening. You have a thought (little thought, just tiny one that you shrug away in an instant as soon as it appears) to ask Lettie if you’re sick or something. Weirder things have happened. Your insides are buzzing and you can’t suppress the alien desire, nay, the NEED to punch a wall because a certain someone is just… what? Too themselves? Too nice? Too cute? (Cute? Animals are cute. Not people. Right?). But that’s the best word that you can find.
Cute.
You want to put Amir into a bottle and shake him real hard and keep him safe, happy and content. You’d pay attention to him 24\7 and feed him the best pizza slices. You’d buy him all the games in the world because you have more money than you know what to do with. You don’t really need the money anyway; you can get so much more by sneezing or something. You have no idea what to even spend it on, so why not on this adorable dork? Spending money on Amir’s hobbies could become your hobby, 100%, that would be the best way to spend your not-really-hard-earned cash. If it would make him smile – no price is too high.
You want to scream and yell and thrash around for some reason. Maybe you do, a little. Maybe you let out an embarrassing squeal as you hug yourself and tap your feet, tap-tap-tap, and the feeling slightly diminishes. Not by much, it’s ever-present. Nothing seems to put it too far away into your thick skull or let you forget that oh, this thing you found while out on a mission he might actually enjoy! Or this thing you heard about but not certain what it is – you’d like to hear his thoughts on it. Maybe joke around about it too!
Grrr, you’re doing it again! Get outta the clouds and back to Earth. You’ll get yourself killed if you keep daydreaming about your resident goofball.
Goofball who has more angst to him that seen on the surface.
You’ve suspected it, sure. No one’s that lighthearted and cheery every day of their existence in an infested warzone with untold horrors as your bedtime story before sleep. You wish you could ease his anxiety, get him to slow down for a moment and just… relax. Shed the burden, share a tear. You’d lament together about how utterly fucked-up both of your existences are. You’d share stories. You – about that one time you were killed in a particularly painful way or how your warframe got stuck in a wall. Him – about how he grew up in a normal home (presumably) and had normal activities that are so bizarre to you. You’d listen about all the things he fears are boring. Because for you, they’re not. You’d latch on his every word, for your life is filled with too much wonder, too much strange, too much, too much, too much of shit that he read so much about, played so many games about. He’d love to experience things that you did, see the Cephalons, the Remnants, everything.
This is so strange. How the world of war and suffering is a fairy tail for this man, he’d totally love to explore it, you’re certain of it. How you’d give so much away just to be able to have a normal home, mom and dad, your sibling back, for Zariman to never happen. You don’t know (or don’t remember) what it’s like. “Normal” for you is “Extraordinary” for him. Same goes in reverse, with his normal and your extraordinary.
And here you go again. Thinking about how you’d like to just hug him and make him sit there with you, dangling your feet, maybe having a competition on who can throw an orange seed the farthest. You haven’t thought much about games back in the Origin System. You’re half-convinced there are none, but you haven’t really paid much attention to them. There HAVE to be games, right? What kind of world or time doesn’t have games? Still, you were too busy surviving and saving everyone to notice. You regret not paying attention now. You’d share them with him, tell him the rules and see who’d be best at it: the professional gamer with years of experience in everything or a time-travelling nobody with freaky powers who probably cheats but still loses.
You’re not a sore loser, far from it. You just want to keep up. You fear that if you slack too far behind by being honest and playing by the rules he’d leave you behind, since he’s always rushing somewhere. The only way you, with you’re a-little-less-infected-and-warmachine-like human body, can keep up is by using every trick in the book. And off the book. As long as it’s entertaining for him. You don’t know if he noticed your unfair gaming tendencies, but if he did – he kept quiet about it. And smug. Sol, he’s so smug when you ask him for help in that favorite arcade of his. Battle Chicks, was it?
Is that the kind of people he prefers? Strong women with big weapons who are as badass as they are attractive? You could probably nail the badass part, but you’re not certain about strong or attractive. You look ok, yeah? Probably? You’re not exactly well-versed in attractiveness, living alone most of your life. But if the rest of the team is the norm… Damn, maybe you have already lost a lot of points there and gotta hit the gym? Is there a gym in the mall? That would probably take a lot of time, too. Time that you don’t have. Shit… Well, you suppose you will have to do with just your personality.
You pretty shitty, unlikable personality, from your own consideration.
You ventured on this journey having every intention to manipulate these people into liking you. That’s fucked up enough for most people… And you did manipulate them into liking you. You have pizza together with some every now and again.
You know all of Lettie’s rats’ names and she curses at you in her language (Spanish, right?) with affection. For some reason it’s comforting to hear her lovingly insult you (you know she doesn’t mean a word, it’s more of a habit. One that you, by accident, adopted. Now you both curse like sailors. Thanks a lot, Lettie). She needs to let some verbal steam out for all the crap the rest of the team puts her through, to be honest.
You let Eleanor roam your mind, since you don’t really have boundaries as the rest of the team does (it’s not like you COULD hide anything in your own head, considering that your own head made the whole Duviri mess, so you don’t understand the… concept of privacy?). She in turn shares some interesting secrets and keeps it deliciously vile, with fancy words and colorful turns of phrases (maybe because she was a journalist, and they were the real word smiths, if you understand her explanation of the term correctly). Just as you’re used to.
Quincy’s a piece of work. You don’t understand if he’s mad at you or genuinely enjoys riling you up for fun. You don’t get if you’ve offended him or if he likes what he hears, despite the barbs. He’s most likely the toughest nut to crack in your mission of mass manipulation in the name of salvation… But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You get to shoot his guns at the weirdest things and he offers you an (paid) advice on how to dress to impress (maybe Amir will like the latest piece you’ve snatched for yourself?).
Aoi, oh Aoi… The girl is the easiest target for you. She’s friendly enough and willing to go into full contact even if you don’t probe too deep. She likes her music and is a damn good shoulder to cry on (not that you did that. You did NOT cry on her shoulder. And never will! Nope! Ever!). She showed you some of the weirdest music pieces ever. Some, you enjoyed, others… Eehhh, let’s not talk about the others. Still, you will keep bringing her all the metal for her new metal bending swan origami thing she’ll ask. (FREE OF CHARGE, TOO, QUINCY! THAT’S friendship. Suck on that!)
As for Arthur… What a guarded man. Doesn’t talk about his past unless you pry the information outta him with a strength of ten Rhino Primes. He looks (and acts?) like a wet kitten. You have a certain inkling that he let Eleanor practice her makeup skills on him when they were younger. Maybe he has a secret teddy bear too? You doubt he’d sleep with it, all cuddled and warm, but as a reminder of something? You wouldn’t put it past him. But totally a teddy bear kind of guy! Still, even with his reluctance you managed to snag some interesting details of his life, since you found a loophole: mutual sharing. You tell him of your horrors and he lets you in on his in turn. So far, you’re going toe-to-toe with the amount of said horrors, but you like to think you’ve got him beat in trauma department (Lettie says it’s not a competition but it would make you sleep better at night if it were). You remember he made you fumbled spaghetti. The attempt is good enough, but he promised he’d make you something else too as an apology. You’re going to bring him an entire kitchen’s worth of cooking equipment and ingredients you swear to the Void!!---
Ah, well… That was quite a mind rant. Thinking about your companions always makes you feel nice and willing to talk. About them, about you, about things you like or dislike. Just talk, in general. You haven’t had many opportunities, or viable dialogue partners. Now you do. Weird, isn’t it? The good kind of weird.
And Amir…
You munch on your own lip. You know much about him already. But not enough. You feel it will never be enough. You will latch onto every little detail anyone can drop in a conversation just to learn more. And you will keep that knowledge close to your chest, tight in your fingers, safe and sound. Just for you. Why? Dunno. Just because. Why not? Is it so wrong to want to get to know him more? Amir’s an unending pool of things to uncover. All the games he ever played, the fantasies for his Fables & Frontiers sessions that he used before or never got to try yet, the past, the present, the future, there’s just so much, yet you still want more.
Here you go again, wanting to punch a wall because otherwise you will put your hands around his cheeks and SQUEEZE!!! How can anyone be this adorable?! Please, someone, make it illegal. It HAS to be forbidden because the thoughts you have can’t possibly be allowed.
If you tried to take his hand, would he pull away? If you hugged him, would he hug you back or just pat you on the back and step away? Would he still want to hang out if he learned that your original motivation for getting to know him better was dishonest? And would he even care that, somewhere along the way, that manipulative drive came to be a genuine desire for connection?
With him, with the rest of the Hex. They’re like… Like family you can’t quire remember? Before Zariman. Those days are muddled by time and scars and suffering, you can’t quite compare but you’ve grown to like your merry band of misfits. You belong here. With them.
Your lips are smiling against your will. It seems to become a more constant occurrence these days. You have so much to think about, so much to live through, so many experiences. Duviri was your whole life. It was a desolate place with no substance, only the same death, suffering and apathy. It became your normal…
Now your normal is holding your fists tightly clenched at your sides in order not to mess Amir’s hair or break a wall.
You like this new normal.