rekindledtitan: (Some bright spark)
TYPE: Personal log

LOCATION: The Last City, Earth

PARTIES: Three [3]. One [1] Ghost-type, [1] Guardian-type, designate Blaze-37, Class Titan [[personal profile] rekindledtitan], One [1] Unconfirmed, designate Rogers, Steve [[personal profile] juststeverogers]



ASSOCIATIONS: Multiversal Nexus; Rogers, Steve; Harrowheart; Earth; Ixis Naugus; Blaze-37; Shaxx



You can’t teleport straight into the Tower, so once again Blaze and Ghost are bringing a guest aboard their ship. The Exo stands back a step as the materialize, not wanting to crowd their human friend in the cramped interior.

“So this is our jumpship,” she explains, gesturing at the little cabin. Ghost’s already powering up the lights - and the life-support, which fires up with a hiss of fresh air. It’s fortunate they’ve been keeping the place better heated since their last organic visitors. It looks pretty bare and cold right now, everything that might mark it as a living space tucked away behind patchwork metal plating. “Sorry we have to take the long way round, but on the bright side that means you get to come in the scenic route. Go ahead and take a seat.”

She has to mean the only item of furniture there: the hefty pilot’s seat with its worn padding. Blaze is going to move around it and go right for the cockpit controls. And hey, the interior decor might not be much, but the view from the big forward displays is nothing to sniff at: a sweeping window with the glowing blue curve of Earth visible below, and no atmosphere masking the countless stars above
rekindledtitan: (Check this out)
TYPE: Personal log

LOCATION: Nexus

PARTIES: Three [3]. One [1] Ghost-type, One [1] [UNCONFIRMED], designate Marshall, Brynhild [[personal profile] rekindledtitan], One [1] Unconfirmed, designate Jesse [[personal profile] notalldead]



ASSOCIATIONS: Multiversal Nexus; Jesse; the Rotten; Multiversal Phenomena; Blaze-37; Revivification; Bryn Marshall; Deep Stone Crypt; Golden Age; Clovis Bray


It’s well past the twenty-four-hour mark after Bryn assumed the place of her Exo counterpart (or descendant, if one wanted to look at it that way). Though a little more used to her company, Ghost is starting to feel anxious again. He expected to have his Guardian back by now, and her absence (albeit partial) is distressing on a very fundamental level. He communicates nothing to Bryn, of course: it would serve no purpose and quite possibly insult her.

On the bright side, he’s made it through twenty-four hours with only minor bruises for his human companion, and with a little medical attention she’s mostly recovered from the effects of the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster she drank last night. That’s better than he can claim for Blaze, most days.

So now they’re strolling through one of the Nexus markets, one Ghost and one young blonde in a borrowed leather jacket. The little bot is not-coincidentally leading her along one of Blaze’s usual patrol routes. He has a faint hope he can jog her memory with familiar stimuli. Either way, Bryn’s happy to check out the stalls and their wares, peculiar and mundane… and sometimes mundane things that just seem peculiar to a Golden Age colony girl. It’s everything Ghost can do not to get left behind when she makes another sharp turn and beelines for the next thing to catch her curiosity.
rekindledtitan: (Some bright spark)
TYPE: Personal log

LOCATION: Orbit, Earth

PARTIES: Three [3]. One [1] Ghost-type, One [1] Guardian-type, designate Blaze-37, Class Titan [[personal profile] rekindledtitan], One [1] Unconfirmed, designate Jesse [[personal profile] notalldead]


ASSOCIATIONS: Multiversal Nexus; Jesse; the Rotten; Earth; Multiversal Phenomena; Blaze-37; Revivification; Demeter Effect


It’s funny, Blaze never expected her ship to be a place for more than herself and her Ghost. A sanctuary of sorts, and a fine sturdy little vessel, but a place for little more than work and storage in the end. And yet now she’s showing it to the fourth friend in just a few months. Not even a Guardian… or at least not the kind she’d expected to befriend.

It’s enough to make her a little conscious of how bare and rough it looks; even the padded pilot’s chair is sort of squashed and worn from bearing the metal weight of an armored Exo several years in a row. Nonetheless, it’s the only comfortable place to sit in the small cabin space, and Blaze steers Jesse that way once he’s defrosted enough to stand.

“So everything’s built into the walls,” she explains, gesturing at one apparently-solid surface after another. “Weapon and armor storage on that side, material supplies over there, workbenches and stuff on the port side. I’ll pull down the wash unit if you want to let your coat dry off.”
rekindledtitan: (Hughes - Got a target)
TYPE: Personal log

LOCATION: Orbit, Earth

PARTIES: Three [3]. One [1] Ghost-type, [1] Guardian-type, designate Blaze-37, Class Titan [[personal profile] rekindledtitan], One [1] Unconfirmed, designate Hughes, Maes [[personal profile] bestdadinamestris]


ASSOCIATIONS: Multiversal Nexus; Maes Hughes; Earth; Multiversal Phenomena; Blaze-37; Amestris; Dr. Hill; Deep Stone Crypt; [REDACTED]




Blaze should have figured the warning signs for what they were. When the senses slow and the body insists on sinking into the nearest furniture, it ought to be a clue. But she has no memory of fatigue, no sense of whether her body is just complaining or injured or seriously needs to rest. So it’s not until their meeting at the Harp sees her stuffed with food and forced to actually sit down for a while that the torpor kicks in.

She’d like to shake it off, but the more level (and more inorganic) heads around her are able to point out that that’s not how human biology works.

She’s yawning uncontrollably when they materialize aboard her one-room jumpship. It wakes up for them with a soft hum, lights revealing a cabin just big enough for both she and Hughes to move around. Every inch of the clean metal plating looks like it’s part of some compartment or pull-out section, and that includes the floor. To sharp Exo senses it might look a bit patchwork, too: different panels have subtly different finishes; signs of repair are everywhere. There’s little sign of home comforts: just one cushy pilot’s chair, Blaze’s helmet clipped alongside it.

I’m… going to power up the life-support systems,” the Ghost says, swooping over to the controls.

Blaze tries to talk through her next yawn. “Oh… yyyeah. Good thinking. Uh.” She looks up at Hughes and waves a hand toward the star-speckled view up front. “Welcome to Earth orbit.”

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Blaze-37

September 2017

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