"Same meat. Same bone. But so very different." - Ghost Fragment: Thorn - TheRose

Peering through the scope, Valthyx could make out his target in the distance, the luminous outline of the reticle dancing around her as she travelled. His fingers tapped nervously along the metallic frame of his gun in regular rhythm. Had she noticed it?

After having observed this guardian for so many days, he dared not hover his finger over the trigger, risking an accident. Particularly after the close call just a week before. He grimaced recalling the dramatic puff of snow his misfired bullet had made as it landed at the guardian's feet. It was... well, it certainly was not one of his most capable moments but at least he remained hidden. Thank the Great Machine that his superiors had not witnessed the fluke - lest he never hear the end of it.

It was a funny thing. Although he had come no closer than sniping distance to this guardian, he sometimes felt, well, he wasn't sure what he felt. Almost as if they were long time friends? His tongue clicked at the strangeness of the thought, the corner of his lip raising to form half a grin. The Eliksni and the Humans - were they so unalike? It was irrefutable that a chasm of violence estranged the two species. He had ended his fair share of these soft creatures' lives and he imagined this guardian had claimed many Eliksni herself. One day, he may even need to clai-... no, there was no point in lingering on that thought, because today was not that day.

He snapped back to attention as the guardian raised a gloved finger to the wall of an abandoned structure. A tiny caterpillar-like insect, well adapted to the snows of Europa if it's thick wooly coat was any indication, inched forward to climb her hand. These worlds were changing.

Quaint.

He considered how long he could continue like this. Sooner or later the excuses to conduct these 'experiments' would run out. Chronicler or not, there really was only so much to be learned from a single human. There was even less to be learned that would interest his chain of command. 'Perhaps they would be interested to hear about the guardians apparent fondness of fuzzy worms', he mused internally.

As soon as the guardian noticed the note he had attached to an abandoned sparrow, Valthyx shut his eyes in contentment. Jotting down a few last minute notes, he slammed his journal shut and stored it away. Double checking that his stealth tech remained active, he turned, heading back to the den to seek out his old friend Radax. "Until agaaainnn," he muttered with a long exhale and one last glance in the guardian's direction.

"They will try to kill you. Kill them back." - Variks, House Judgement

The snows of Europa never fully melted from you. They lingered. They crystalized with a cold that no heat could thaw. They clung to you, within every fold, crease, and crook of your armor and remained until you had time to thoroughly, manually dust yourself off. No amount of warmth would save you from this chore. As Ysolde's ship approached the tower's docks, she readied herself to do just that.

Speckles of light bloomed from the pouch at her waist until they were at eye level, her mechanical companion coming into view and announcing proudly, "We finally have a lead! A mysterious, unverified, unreliable, suspicious, totally uncorroborated -"

"Point received loud and clear Ceres," Ysolde cut her off, "Just allow me this little bit of hope, will you?" Ysolde sighed as if exhausted, but internally she fought down the smirk that Ceres' cheekiness had prompted. She succeeded by redirecting her attention to the sheet of paper that she held tightly crumpled in a fist.

"All I'm saying is that we would have to be TRUE idiots to follow -"

Ysolde had stopped listening. She stared at her open grip to view the writing on the page. Poor handwriting, terrible spelling, and a couple backwards letters, but it was the only lead she had at the moment.

'The Hound Takes Many. Must Drifting Man Ask. Careful'

"-we're the idiots... aren't we?" Ceres concluded upon noticing her guardian staring at the scribblings.

"Now you're getting it!" Ysolde replied gleefully, returning the paper to her pocket.

After reaching his nook in the tower, The Drifter informed Ysolde that 'The Hound' had eyes all throughout the underground. He insisted that if you threw a stone in the market, you'd likely hit one of The Hound's goons.

What manner of compensation did he expect for sharing this information with Ysolde? Only the 'juicy details' after the fact of course.

So now here she stood, a stationary point in a sea of people whose erratic currents threatened to drown her. She briefly considered how easy it would be to be trampled in this crowd - but the thought quickly left her as the elbow of a tall passerby slammed into her head.

"Imagine how embarrassing it would be if I had to revive you here of all places" Ceres' mused, letting out a mechanical giggle. Ysolde's mind immediately jumped to all the times she and her friends had leapt off the tower, laughing as they did so while their ghosts, irked, revived them again and again.

Before she knew what was happening, Ysolde fell, shoved by the mass of hurried people behind her. Warmth slowly filmed around her bottom lip. The contact between her face and the concrete had broken skin, though nothing serious. From the shadows, fingers reached out and encircled Ysolde's forearm before pulling her into a nearby alcove. Once free from the crowd, she looked up and met with amber eyes situated beneath a concerned expression.

"Trying to get yourself killed, huh?", an Exo towered over her, mocking with a playful grin, though he did not move to release his grip. Flustered, Ysolde climbed to her feet with the Exo's help. "I haven't seen your face around here before, and trust me, I'd remember a face like yours", he winked. Ysolde mustered every ounce of strength she had not to roll her eyes at the empty flattery. "I'm looking for someone," she began, shaking off dust as she did, "The Drifter says I would find them here -"

Suddenly the stranger's face intensified. Pulling her uncomfortably close, his voice became an urgent whisper, "It's you? It's about time you showed up. I can't believe you had to get directions from him. I know you're new, hell, I am too, but, really, that's stupid even for my standards." He glanced around hurriedly before he continued, "and here I was thinking I had gone and rescued myself a damsel. Look, if we don't get this cargo delivered soon, we are both as good as done. Or worse. Most likely worse. So listen, I've got a few of the, uh, 'volunteers' in the back here," his words trailed off and his grip tightened as he dragged her deeper down a narrow corridor. The noise and bustle of the bazaar quickly became a distant dream as the two became shrouded in silence.

This was... promising? Ysolde had no clue who this man thought her to be, but if she could just keep her mouth shut and let me remain unaware for as long as possible...

A few heartbeats later, the Exo stopped dead in his tracks. Without the sound of the footsteps, Ysolde swore she could hear the sound of... whimpers? Were those, moans of pain? That couldn't be-

"I almost forgot. Need to see your mark. I always forget to ask to see the mark - get in a lot of trouble for that lately", he rambled as his head swiveled to look at her, waiting for her to do, something.

A moment passed.

When Ysolde didn't move, the Exo's stare grew wide and his grip intensified, sending a throbbing jolt up her arm. Only a moment more and the Exo reached to Ysolde's shirt, lifting it just enough to reveal the side of her torso. She looked down to try and understand what he was looking for and when her gaze raised back up, she was greeted with a hard, solid fist.

Darkness.

Ysolde awoke in darkness. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, nor the sequence of events that had led to her being here - wherever 'here' was. She attempted to move her arms beneath her to lift herself up but her they tingled with numbness. There was a grating sensation against her skin - was that, rope? Using her core, Ysolde peeled her face from the cold floor.

"Ceres, are you there-", she whispered lightly, receiving a reply not from her ghost, but from another, "check the mark, check the mark, you never know Danu, you must always check the mark" the voice's tinge was mocking but also desperate. A drawn out sigh filled the empty air, "your little ghost is fine, but she's currently disabled so that you don't try to do anything... 'brave'. You and I need to have a very serious talk missy."