A/N: A series of one-shots or shorts following one of my favorite pairings. Also inspired by a picture of Saryn and Nova I found on the web somewhere, and since then I haven't really been able to get them out of my head. Instead of doing long fics, I liked the idea of doing short pieces and prompt fillers with these two. Hope you enjoy!
And as always, all credit of the characters belongs to Digital Extremes and Warframe.
Magenta irises locks with orbs reminiscent of distant, swirling galaxies. A leather-clad hand reaches out to you – a soundless gesture of help you contemplate accepting just this once. Your fingers twitch, but you remain wholly undisturbed in your slouched position against a moss-covered trunk. "You look like shit."
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," you spit out – quite literally with blood – until another cough overwhelms your lungs. You've been hacked and slashed at by blood-thirsty Walkers and covered with acidic sludge from Chargers. You've fared worse against Ancients dragging you across craggy riverbeds and Mutalist Ospreys filling your lungs with toxic fumes powerful enough to burn flesh from the inside out. This endless onslaught against one of the worst creations in history leaves you to wonder why the Orokin would go as far as to corrupt biology and repurpose technology only to have it backfire at the end of the day? You want to scream and curse the Gods, whomever they are, for your twisted fate. Trained by Ballas for the sole purpose of fixing the Orokin's deadly mistake, emotionally and physically abused by Kela Da Thaym's sickening fantasies, and left with the dauntless task of keeping the Infested at bay on a massive planet polluted with centuries of military occupation.
"Come with us."
You blink, unmoving. Come with…us? "Why should I?"
"We have someone who can tend to your wounds." Doesn't she know who you are? A monster, born from the last of an ancient civilization to rectify history, and bound to serve under the Grineer leaders. This is all you know, all you have known in the last, few hundred years. There is no salvation for someone as yourself. "Fuck off."
You place your hand on the hilt of your Nikana in an effort to shoo her away. In the very pit of your stomach and the darkest corners of your mind, you just don't want another person subjected to what you've endured. The wordless threat doesn't scare her, and she drops to stand on her own two feet. Wait – you hadn't realized she's been floating this entire time. The hand comes to your cheek instead, cool and gentle in a way you didn't imagine possible. You don't fight against the overwhelming desire to lean into the touch, and suddenly exhaustion washes over your entire system like the neurotoxins you employ to subdue your enemies.
"Trinity? I've found someone. How soon can you bring around the ship?"
You don't really register what she's saying anymore. She's shaking you to keep you awake – you don't realize exactly how much blood you've lost. It must be a lot if you're starting to feel sleepy and cold. "Hey, I need you to stay with me."
"Why are you doing this?" You surprise yourself with the question, wondering where this energy comes from. She doesn't reply and instead crawls to your side. She throws one of your arms over her shoulder and struggles to lift you to your feet. A snort leaves your lips at her efforts, but you humor her anyway and take some weight off so she feels useful. "You know they'll come for me."
"I know." The honest, simple answer surprises you and you look down at the smaller woman focused on forging a path through the thickest of trees and plants. There is a clearing not more than a hundred feet from where she found you, and above a triangular ship comes hovering down. It lands with a burst of wind and dust, forcing you to brace yourself against the gust. Another person joins you – a woman reminiscent of witch doctors you only hear about in fantastical tales among some of the Grineer troops. She comes up to you with a determined look on her face and places her hands on your sternum. Instinct kicks in and you grab her wrist fiercely only to find a pistol aimed at your head.
"'ah suggest ya take yer hands off." You don't recognize the accent, but one look at the blindfolded woman tells you that you best listen. If someone who can't see is capable of knowing exactly where to point a weapon, there is a good chance you'll lose your head. You release your grip just as waves of green energy washes over you, seeping into your wounds like a cool salve. The pain ebbs away as you feel your skin re-stitch itself until only dull aching remains.
You're exhausted by the time the witch doctor finishes, and you let yourself succumb to the darkness as hands reach out to catch you.
Sleep never comes easy, as it has been for as long as you can remember. It comes as no surprise then when you wake with a start, sweat coating every inch of your skin. A white ceiling greets your vision instead of the usual sickly green reminiscent of Grineer cells and bunkers. Confusion overtakes your mind, but when you prop yourself up to examine your surroundings you're caught off guard by the sleeping woman in a chair not far from your bed.
In fact you're in a room entirely alien to the tainted landscape burned in the back of your mind.
She stirs. You can't help but stare as she blinks away the vestiges of sleep you so desperately crave for yourself. "Good, you're awake."
"Are you always painfully obvious?"
She rolls her eyes and you find it oddly…. Adorable. Was that accurate? "Considering you slept for three days straight… yes, it's a bit warranted."
Three days?! You feel like you slept for mere hours. "Where am I?"
"Long story, but you're in a safe, secure environment. We're in the medical ward aboard this ship."
You don't quite understand, but for now you accept her words at face value.
"I'll go notify Trinity. I'll be right back."
"Wait," you call out, stopping her before she leaves the room. She turns back with an expectant expression and you hold up your hand. "Saryn. My name is Saryn."
You don't know why, but a part of your heart soars when she slowly slips her own smaller one in your palm to shake. "Nova."