FOREWORD

"A splinter of saplings" comes as the central slice of the three part piece of Warren's life – once a subject to the Orokin war machine, pulled from the endless dread of a somatic cradle, to a world far more changed in the crumbled empire. Following the growing pains of recovering from trauma and underlying mental illness; a paternal relationship between father and son stained by financial and emotional stress – it's a long road to recovery. It is messy, it is distressing, and that's how its like when caught up in mental illness.

Each chapter comes with a content warning at the beginning.

For the sake of clarity, within this 'set' Warren is of equivalently 16-17yo – a character whom I've imparted my own emotional aspects reflected in my experiences. Cathartic, in its most basic form.

Originally uploaded as "Wounded, but not yet broken" on Ao3.

Some general content warnings for the entirety of the work:

Depictions of; Post-traumatic stress disorder, avoidant personality disorder, mood disorder, emotional damage, mental instability, self-hatred, and nervous breakdowns

Home, an empty feeling

Content Warnings: Mentions of mutilation

Engines rumble beneath his balling fists as the depth of Warren's faint flicker of conscious rolls him beneath the blanket, curling against the arch of empty seats and muffled by the ambient hum of idle systems. His joints lie cramped as he pulls the sheets around himself – flinching with the unremarkable twitch of his palm knuckling beneath his face, a mere press of the worn material. It's an idle notion, one made of restless sleep with tear glued eyes and scruffled hair, worming beneath the shape of a bench rest as his body yearns for comfort.

Toss and turn, he entombs himself from the cold, basking in the trapped heat as he sinks between the delves of consciousness. So still tired… despite the decades of being held captive in a somatic link, every part of him yearns more of numb slumber. Even, as his exhaustion rolls through his hands as they move from fabric to old uniform, his partial awareness lies restrained. Unaccustomed to the sensation surrounding him, the comfort even as his fingers graze up over his throat beneath the fabric, over his face where gauze holds his features safe.

His own jaw, mouth splitting into a grimace beneath the blanket as hands grip around his freed face, able to feel the scarring indentation on his right and the mild graze of exposed teeth on his left.

Beneath the blanket, he fumbles, curling himself against the wall, forehead separated from the cold surface by the blanket he pulls around him, as his feet drift out of their comfortable embrace. He can feel the air through his Orokin derived uniform, the boots worn down and snug kicking back against the wall. He recoils, yanking the blanket around himself, churning back and around to peer beneath the fabric to the room he resides. The quiet that rests around him.

His brilliant blue grazes over the solemn residence, the near empty room save for a few haphazard labeled crates and the vastness of space beyond an overseeing window. Items lie abandoned amongst the floor, kicked about and shoveled off into corners and cracks. Things he kicked away, he assumes, as he looks between himself and the warframe dozing not too far – his arms wrapped with white bandages.

The teen coils himself back beneath the tenderness of the blanket, reverting himself back beneath the arches of the bench he finds himself. Made small, cornered, coveting his solitude as his breath sighs, fingering against the bandage on where he once had a cheek, where flesh was ripped clean from muscle and bone.

An arm shoves itself back, forcing him out of the bench's shadow.

Warren crawls his way up to sit upon the bench, brushing off the idle dust and remnants of broken glass. A single hand holds itself around the blanket, clutching it against his chest as the fabric hoods his sight, staring out into the depths of space.

Freedom…

Free from the Orokin…

Pulling the blanket around him snuggly, he sighs, a hand landing itself against the bandaging, picking at the tape holding the gauze against his teeth and jaw. It grazes against the scarring at the edge of his lips where the gauze dangles, slowly peeling back in idle thought.

Fiddling, his fingers find preoccupation.

His exhale is slow, questioning as he looks beyond the glass pane and into the vast unknown of the solar system. A place that is almost as displacing as before the Zariman, before the wonder of the vast empire that now languishes in ruins. It's motions in silence as his thoughts drift between the then and now, of the somatic cradle and the isolation chamber that once made up his life.

No notion of the passage of time, no aging beneath his exhausted features as he pulls the blanket close. No point of reference aside from the loki dozing in the edge of the room.

Warren has no place to belong…

The teenager sighs, yanking the fabric around himself, letting himself recline back against the idle comfort as he fiddles beneath the blanket. His sight stares at the ceiling.

What matter does freedom have if he can't make sense of it…?

He listens to the hum of the idle systems, the rumbling of engines ignited but stilled in a lazy orbit around celestial gravity. The only notion that repeat as time goes on, endlessly as Warren drifts between the sounds of just existing where he sits now, idle, waiting. Yearning to sink into it, to become nothing but the enigmatic structures making such sounds beneath the messy interior, beneath the walls of lying machines fueled with blazing white. A melding of reality, dozing as he drifts through consciousness back into sleep.

Existing… is so tiring.

Sitting solemnly, indulging into the warmth wrapped around him and the sound of the idle systems, Warren barely adverts his gaze as the loki shuffles in his sleep. Neither does the reactive hiss rouse the teen as T'viska clutches his arms against his chest, bandages stained with dark blood around his forearms. The remnants of the gore held beneath them as the warframe reclines back with a sigh, looking over to where the teen sits on the couch.

T'viska says nothing, at least at first as the systems hum beneath them. And he peels himself from the floor, still holding his arms close and crossed as he drops himself at the tenno's side.

The silence persists, their gaze shifting off into the vastness of space.

Beneath them the orbiter churns, the cephalon coursing a route to evade a muted combat engagement as it whispers past in its void mask. Engines hum in the empty atmosphere, reverbing through the structure as their breathing is the only sound – the warframe's tinged with hoarse heaves – still shaking off the pinning pain in his forearms.

"So," T'viska sighs, sleep deprivation sticking to his words as he barely opens his mouth to speak, fumbling with hesitation and exhilaration – what is he going to say after so long? That the past is behind them now, even as his arms still burn where he stripped muscles with his teeth. "How're you feeling?" he asks, holding his arms between his body and thighs, flinching in every motion. Even when briefly restored of energy, hours later they still sting – he remarks to himself to change the bandages soon.

"Tired," Warren sighs, pulling the blanket around himself, hugging his knees up against him as his brilliant eyes glance over to where the loki agonizes at his side. The gauze around his face catches against the blanket, a hand pulling over to hold it against his exposed jaw. "What about you…?"

T'viska sighs, reclining back against the cushions. "I've had worse… I think," he mumbles the last, uncertain how long it'd take for the muscles to regenerate. It hurt even to just move his fingers, nerves stammering with every mild flinch. "Just need some more time to rest, that's all," he faintly grins, glancing over to where the tenno huddles at his side.

A frown returns his sentiment.

Warren stuffs his face into his knees, into the crease of the blanket as the ends leave his shins exposed, exposing the uniform he wore under his imprisonment. "Sorry you had to come for me," he mumbles, words muffling into the fabric. "To come all the way out here for me…" his sight turns down to the floor, making himself small upon the seat.

"Nonsense," the loki huffs, edging himself over against the tenno's side. "Lua was going to come back eventually… ever since it vanished, I anticipated it'd come back someday." He barely mocks a laugh, feeling the melancholy seeping through their somatic link, in the air around them. The warframe's eyespots barely peek open as he observes the teenager shuffle, barely looking back.

"You mean the moon" is asked half-hearted, through eyes peering back between auburn furls and the dark blanket Warren entombs himself in.

"Yeah. Lua, the moon. It's…" T'viska pauses, staring back out to the depths beyond the glass. "Suuir," he calls to the cephalon, "loop the ship around, so we can see the surface." He turns himself back, elbow easing the blanket off just slight. "Is it too cold, Warren? I'm sure Suuir will raise the temperature a bit."

"No, I'm fine," the tenno mumbles, rewrapping himself in the blanket, pressing his covered jaw against his knee. His words ache, "dad… how long has it been."

T'viska agonizes, holding himself forth with his arms between himself and his thighs. "It's been… too long I guess," he sighs. "A lot of things have changed," he pauses, fumbling over his words, straining to find answers as his forearms still sting. "After the moon vanished, everything changed," he scratches at his thigh, nervous. "There's no more Orokin Empire, the last of it fell into ruin after everything was thrown into chaos. After I lost you –" he pauses, mouth curling between a frown and an anguished snarl.

"I'm just happy you're alright, after so long," T'viska sighs, watching the glint of lunar dust flicker past the wide window on the other side of the room. And, after a perceiving moment, as silence saturates the room beyond the hum of the internal machinery, the loki stands, wandering over to the glass as he rounds the crate-turned ottoman that separates the room into two. He looks back, to where the teenager still holds himself tight. "Come here, lemme show you," the loki offers, nudging his chin over into the direction as the ship rounds into orbit.

Warren's hesitation does not go unnoticed as he shuffles beneath the blanket, still holding it close as a hand drifts to his covered cheek. The somatic glows from his eyes resound a constant reminder as the illumination pulses in the low light and rebound off the blanket held close to his face. Beneath it, well disguised by the gauze and the blankets placements, he grimaces, sight shifting around. And beneath it, he berates himself, words not muffled yet still conveyed as he begins to ease himself from the couch.

Step by step, the teenager holds the blanket around himself.

T'viska waits patiently at the window, staring out as the moon rounds into the view of the orbiter. It gazes over the shattered golden spires and arches connecting the moon's pieces, holding the celestial object barely together as the blare of ships run around it in muted spots of lights. Blares of combat are muted by distance, marring the picturesque view with shattering explosions as the ship drifts into a slow orbit.

Warren stares over it all as he drops himself down in front of the glass, sitting beside T'viska's paws as the loki sighs. "There's some beautiful places still out there," he holds his arms against his chest, golden claws picking between the gauze. "Honestly," he half smiles, "I've really been wanting to show some of them to you but… most of them are too dangerous. Especially now…" he heaves, glancing down to the teen. No response, especially as all he can see is the makeshift cowl hooding Warren's face.

Beneath the fabric, a hand rubs across his face, the tenno's features scrunched in halved relieve and exhaustion. Tears bead across his eyes, catching themselves in the gauze covering his cheek. Fingers pick at it, peeling at the tape holding the gauze in place. The moon's brilliant white hiding such dread… stings against his thoughts. Of course, they'd hide their horrors there…

He rubs his cheek. T'viska feels it at his own.

And the warframe frowns. "Are you hungry?" he questions, already certain of the answer.

Nonetheless, T'viska eases himself down into a kneel as his arms remain reoccupied against his body. With his knees on the ground, he can only look down over the blanket hooding Warren's head, his horns clinking against the glass. "I was going to swing by the relay later – to pick up a few necessities before my next assignment."

Nothing…

At least not at first as the teenager sniffs, a wrist balling against his face where it presses and pulls down to pick at the gauze on his cheek. "I'm fine," he briefly chokes; an admitted half-truth as his gut aches but inside he doesn't feel hungry. As he scowls at his reflection in the glass, the bright lights of his brilliant blue reminding him of the somatic spaces. The cramped compartment beneath folded petals, as his eyes fall shut.

T'viska quietly picks at his own gauze wrapped arms, rattling questions amongst himself as he looks between the glass and the door. His arched horns clink against the glass as he leans forward against it, supporting himself as the ship shifts.

They weave as the engines rumble beneath them, Cephalon Suuir easing the ship from its lingering orbit and yawing the moon tilted from view. And once it finally settles, and as the tenno remains quiet, the warframe forces himself to stand with a grunt, using the glass as a forward support as his claws dig against his skin and the gauze. "I'll be right back, Warren," the loki sighs, voice softened as he speaks behind the teenager. "There's some fresh bandages in the other room," and he glances back for a moment as he moves towards the door.

Warren never moves, only listening as the door eases shut on the other side of the room. His forehead presses against the glass, eased forth by exhaustion as the blanket is the only thing separating him from the chill of space. His breathing sighs against it, eyes faltering closed as he glances over the lunar landscape, over the rifts that expose secrets the Orokin excelled so well at hiding…

He melts down against it, pulling the blanket around himself as his bandaged cheek presses; and he rolls himself to the side with a sigh.

"I'm so tired," he heaves, dredging himself through as he tries to think of something else, something beside the tears that echo down over his cheeks. The chill of the glass against the blanket as he coils beside the glass, keeping his gaze adverted from the room and following the spots orbiting the moon far beyond the pane. Pinpoint lights gain and lose his lazy sight one by one, attention diverted to imagination as fluid drips over his chin.

It's only when the door hisses open does he glance away from the objects separated by glass, only for a moment of confirmation as he shuffles back against the glass.

Across the room T'viska continues to wrap his mangled forearm as he approaches, a satchel dangling from a strap haphazardly slung over his shoulder that droops down over his bicep. Dark tissue speckles with agonizing energy before the white fabric is pulled taut over, covering the angry wound as he wounds it closer to his wrist, easing it through his palm before pulling it snug. He does the same for his other forearm, mouth flinching as golden claws flicker against the exposed muscles straining to heal. He leans against the wall on the other end of the glass – gazing out into the depths.

Both of them hover idle as the ship eases over a corpus ship.

It separates them from the glint of the moon, as fragments of the armored shell flickers from bruising blast marks, scraping past as it barely creaks. Fires flicker beyond its shell, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake as it changes course. Suuir is quick to redirect the ship from the beginning of another skirmish.

"Warren," the loki strains to begin, tucking the bandaging beneath his wrist. The teenager barely moves, head still pressed against the glass.

He's hesitant.

Through their sympathetic connection he can feel the teenager coil against the glass echo against his skin; the trace of worn-down tears and the figments of thought that aches within his chest.

With a sigh, the warframe kneels at Warren's side, carefully coaxing the reluctant teen away from the glass, claws digging around the blanket. As Warren props himself into a sit, T'viska settles himself at his side, the satchel dropping down his bicep. "Let me look at your face," whispers as the loki's shoulders droop, easing the hood from Warren's head as the somatic implants stare back.

They only stare for a moment, flickering away as the blanket drifts over the teenager's shoulders, form slouching. Golden claws dance over the tenno's face, carefully pulling away the tape holding the gauze in place and unwrapping the cloth that held it all in place. He flinches as wet wipes sting against his gaping wound, wiping at the fluid as it drips over his exposed teeth.

His unending silence for the detailed inspection is not of intended patience – but for uncaring melancholy as he takes a moment to feel over his face. Knuckles flex against the fowl taste leaking into his mouth, rubbing up against his exposed teeth. "I'm hideous," Warren mumbles before his chin is ensnared by a golden grip.

"No, you aren't," the Loki grunts, shrugging off the pain stinging within his arms every time he flexes his fingers. Beneath the wraps around his arms, tendons visibly flex, extending and pulling as the teenager's sight falls over them. A hand drifts from beneath the blanket, digits tracing against the healing tendons.

"I'm sorry, dad," Warren mumbles, head yanked up and meeting the loki's sightless stare.

"Don't" he grimaces, flickering through trying to determine between his own feelings and the dread saturating through the somatic connection. "Warren, you've done nothing wrong to be sorry. It was my decision," his grip falls between his knees, where the remnants of the old bandaging lies stained with blood. "I went in there to get you… because I wanted you to be alright," he sighs, falling back against his crossed hocks.

Brows furl beneath the auburn tussle, bright eyes squinting as he tries to choke back the welting tears – his wrist forces them back as T'viska only sits there. Waiting patiently as the skin around his eyespots scrunch, making them appear as faint eyes as a mouth barely hangs open a frown. The teenager's fingers yield over his face, tracing over the exposed muscle and teeth, faltering to hold back tears as he chokes.

T'viska's arms drift up… and Warren ensnares them. His fists dig against the warframe's back as he sobs, pressing his face against the brightly scarred as the bandaged hands hoist against his back.