[It's a month out, and he's never been happier to see the inside of his ship in his entire rezzed life. Though it's difficult to shed the stink of Venus (and the char, the dirt, the blood), the cockpit's filtration system is doing its best, and the sheer fact that it's climate controlled would almost be enough to make him weep, were he any lesser a guardian.
As it is, it's just nice to be setting a course back home. He feels like hell, looks worse, and his comm and visual systems have been knocked out for the past week, courtesy of an errant minotaur. Thankfully his visor still retained its emergency translucency, but that didn't mean that that was any help with communication with the rest of the Host, or anyone outside for that matter.
Now that they've struck a hard blow to the Hezen Protective though, he's more than ready to have some time to himself. Earth is absolutely stunning as it comes into view, and the Tower is the best thing he's seen in a long while. Vex are dead, none of his men are, he could care less about everything now.
His ship is docked as quickly as humanly possible, and he's transmatting down soon after. Armor stays on, broken helmet and all, because it's been weeks since he's seen a proper shower and he's not about to subject anyone to that. A proper shower, sleep, it all sounds heavenly. But it's not the most important thing.
With his comms going out, he hasn't been able to send word back to a particular hunter vanguard, and while a majority of the week has been spent fighting for his life, unfortunately the thought of using someone else's frequencies hadn't occurred. He feels bad about that one, now that he thinks about it. But the least he can do is let the other guardian know he's alive, right? Right.
Apartment is a bust, the door's closed and there's no sign of life inside. It feels distinctly wrong, too quiet, too empty, even with the bustle of the rest of the tower around. Courtyard? No, that's also not right, though the sight of fire and the stink of iron serves as a reminder that he's apparently made it back right as the Banner was starting. Damn. Going to have to miss this one, he's in no shape to be putting forth his best effort.
The hall, then. Or James' quarters. One of the two has to be right, and a quick scan of the area gives him that answer. That's a hunter, all right. There's a slight twist in his chest at the sight, and he can't help the relieved grin that plays at the corners of his lips. Too long, a month was definitely too long to be away, regardless of duty calling or not.
His voice is hoarse when he manages to speak, water would be excellent, but he tries to be as casual as he can, leaning in the doorway with a cock of his head to Shade.]
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Date: 2015-10-12 03:22 am (UTC)From:As it is, it's just nice to be setting a course back home. He feels like hell, looks worse, and his comm and visual systems have been knocked out for the past week, courtesy of an errant minotaur. Thankfully his visor still retained its emergency translucency, but that didn't mean that that was any help with communication with the rest of the Host, or anyone outside for that matter.
Now that they've struck a hard blow to the Hezen Protective though, he's more than ready to have some time to himself. Earth is absolutely stunning as it comes into view, and the Tower is the best thing he's seen in a long while. Vex are dead, none of his men are, he could care less about everything now.
His ship is docked as quickly as humanly possible, and he's transmatting down soon after. Armor stays on, broken helmet and all, because it's been weeks since he's seen a proper shower and he's not about to subject anyone to that. A proper shower, sleep, it all sounds heavenly. But it's not the most important thing.
With his comms going out, he hasn't been able to send word back to a particular hunter vanguard, and while a majority of the week has been spent fighting for his life, unfortunately the thought of using someone else's frequencies hadn't occurred. He feels bad about that one, now that he thinks about it. But the least he can do is let the other guardian know he's alive, right? Right.
Apartment is a bust, the door's closed and there's no sign of life inside. It feels distinctly wrong, too quiet, too empty, even with the bustle of the rest of the tower around. Courtyard? No, that's also not right, though the sight of fire and the stink of iron serves as a reminder that he's apparently made it back right as the Banner was starting. Damn. Going to have to miss this one, he's in no shape to be putting forth his best effort.
The hall, then. Or James' quarters. One of the two has to be right, and a quick scan of the area gives him that answer. That's a hunter, all right. There's a slight twist in his chest at the sight, and he can't help the relieved grin that plays at the corners of his lips. Too long, a month was definitely too long to be away, regardless of duty calling or not.
His voice is hoarse when he manages to speak, water would be excellent, but he tries to be as casual as he can, leaning in the doorway with a cock of his head to Shade.]
Table has to make for a shit bed.