Post by Rabdom on Jan 30, 2016 23:17:50 GMT -6
 | that the darkest hour it never comes in the night tagged |
The air as thick with static electricity, the wind blowing harshly at the rotting walls hitting the large beams that helped hold them together created a symphony of loud, metallic banging. Footsteps walked solemnly, quietly through the empty space as lightning flashed at his back, rain beating on the thin metal around him. It seemed to be calling out to him, pleading for his return to the outside world. But his nervousness over the the lightening and the possibility of getting struck kept him pushing forward. There came a click, and as he passed through an old metal grate that was supposed to keep wanderers from being torn up by a now unmoving fan, a light shone brightly ahead of him; illuminating a doorway just before another large, yet slow moving, fan.
The Warlock paused then, half in stride as he listened closely. There was a room on the other side of this wall, he knew; and he also knew that Fallen often inhabited places such as this. There as a possibility of there being more of them, considering the storm that was wrecking havoc outside and no one would be stupid enough to go trekking around in it. A few moments passed before his once rigid frame relaxed, and the light that was once focused on the door appeared to move to and fro ever so slightly.
"I think they're gone," said his Ghost; though the smaller machine still spoke in a whisper, as though they were not alone. The tall figure turned his head for a moment, before turning his gaze back to the door. His footsteps echoed quietly against the sound of thunder, shadow dancing against the door frame as he and his Ghost grew closer.
"They've been quiet since the fall of the Wolves," responded the Guardian as they rounded the corner into the large, worn out room; the Ghost's flashlight flickering off as the lights in the room seemed to still function.
Cautiously, the Guardian stepped into the room, expecting something to jump out at him at any moment. Nothing did, of course, and after another brief pause, the Warlock again relaxed and ventured further into the room and towards the back, seeming to search for someplace to wait out the storm; a cluster of old shipping contains and other various large objects making for a decent hiding place.
"Do you think it will stay quiet like this all night?" asked the Ghost, not seeming to notice that his Guardian was wandering away from him as he scanned various objects for any forms of life; though worry seemed to lace his voice.
There came a small sigh as the Guardian paused, half sticking out of an empty space between a container and the stone wall; it was large enough that he could easily slip through without being hindered. The smaller machine moved almost frantically in search of life. The watched the small Ghost floating around before responding.
"Fending off a few Fallen couldn't be as bad as flying through this storm," he assured before slipping out of sight. The space inside was large enough that he could lay on his back and still have plenty of room to stretch, as well as not be spotted unless you were on top of the containers or standing in one of the few openings leading inside the small dwelling. He chosen to sit with his back against the cold, stone wall; eyes dimming slightly inside his helmet. "Besides, I'd think you'd know if someone were coming."
The Ghost turned, lighting up momentarily as if to make a rebutted -- but suddenly appear discouraged as he realized that he could no longer spot his Guardian. The Ghost hummed quietly as he hovered even further into the room, rain falling rhythmically overhead; thunder rumbling somewhere in the distance. Most would fall asleep instantly to the sound of rain; however the Exo's eyes stayed dimmed, hand resting on his side arm. Recharge was beckoning to him -- wanting him to relax, though his mind was not yet settled.
This was going to be a very long night indeed. Perhaps he should have thought ahead, checked what the forecast might be before deciding to venture out into the Cosmodrome in search of bounties and wanting to scout. Rarely had he ever made a bad choice, and so far, this was the worst one yet. Now all he was left with was a concerned Ghost and a storm raging overhead.
Could things possibly get any worse?
The Warlock paused then, half in stride as he listened closely. There was a room on the other side of this wall, he knew; and he also knew that Fallen often inhabited places such as this. There as a possibility of there being more of them, considering the storm that was wrecking havoc outside and no one would be stupid enough to go trekking around in it. A few moments passed before his once rigid frame relaxed, and the light that was once focused on the door appeared to move to and fro ever so slightly.
"I think they're gone," said his Ghost; though the smaller machine still spoke in a whisper, as though they were not alone. The tall figure turned his head for a moment, before turning his gaze back to the door. His footsteps echoed quietly against the sound of thunder, shadow dancing against the door frame as he and his Ghost grew closer.
"They've been quiet since the fall of the Wolves," responded the Guardian as they rounded the corner into the large, worn out room; the Ghost's flashlight flickering off as the lights in the room seemed to still function.
Cautiously, the Guardian stepped into the room, expecting something to jump out at him at any moment. Nothing did, of course, and after another brief pause, the Warlock again relaxed and ventured further into the room and towards the back, seeming to search for someplace to wait out the storm; a cluster of old shipping contains and other various large objects making for a decent hiding place.
"Do you think it will stay quiet like this all night?" asked the Ghost, not seeming to notice that his Guardian was wandering away from him as he scanned various objects for any forms of life; though worry seemed to lace his voice.
There came a small sigh as the Guardian paused, half sticking out of an empty space between a container and the stone wall; it was large enough that he could easily slip through without being hindered. The smaller machine moved almost frantically in search of life. The watched the small Ghost floating around before responding.
"Fending off a few Fallen couldn't be as bad as flying through this storm," he assured before slipping out of sight. The space inside was large enough that he could lay on his back and still have plenty of room to stretch, as well as not be spotted unless you were on top of the containers or standing in one of the few openings leading inside the small dwelling. He chosen to sit with his back against the cold, stone wall; eyes dimming slightly inside his helmet. "Besides, I'd think you'd know if someone were coming."
The Ghost turned, lighting up momentarily as if to make a rebutted -- but suddenly appear discouraged as he realized that he could no longer spot his Guardian. The Ghost hummed quietly as he hovered even further into the room, rain falling rhythmically overhead; thunder rumbling somewhere in the distance. Most would fall asleep instantly to the sound of rain; however the Exo's eyes stayed dimmed, hand resting on his side arm. Recharge was beckoning to him -- wanting him to relax, though his mind was not yet settled.
This was going to be a very long night indeed. Perhaps he should have thought ahead, checked what the forecast might be before deciding to venture out into the Cosmodrome in search of bounties and wanting to scout. Rarely had he ever made a bad choice, and so far, this was the worst one yet. Now all he was left with was a concerned Ghost and a storm raging overhead.
Could things possibly get any worse?
