Nyx lay in her bunk after a long mission. She was tired, and sore, exhausted mentally and physically.
Yet she could not sleep.
She'd been forced to use her abilities.
One may think, only, that it meant she'd been put under pressure higher than normal, but it was not that fact that resulted in her sleeplessness.
It was her powers themselves.
Nyx; The Mind Frame.
She could bend or break the minds of those around her, force her will on them.
That's where the sleeplessness lay.
Before, she'd been perfectly content to use her powers. But, nearing the end of a long campaign to defend Earth from the Corpus, who were trying to tip the balance in their favor, she saw... The horror of what her powers could do.
"There they are! There are those cursed Tenno!" A strangely robotic voice shouted out. Nyx spun around and threw a kunai, impaling the Corpus crewman. Too late; the others had heard and came rushing.
Nearly seventeen Corpus all at once rushed around the corner. Nyx, already low on shields and injured from a tree falling on her, focused her mind and sought the mind of the Tech, grasping it and wiping it clean, replacing it with her own, then ducked behind cover, letting her shields regenerate.
The Tech fought well, killing his comrades quickly and efficiently. Nyx glanced at an Icon in her Hud; his mind would break free in ten seconds. Standing, she threw four kunai, killing all but one other Corpus.
The Tech, in it's delerious state, attempted to use one of Nyx's powers, believing itself to be Nyx. It failed of course. Nyx killed the Corpus it had been trying to kill, then walked up to the Tech. The Tech was frantically trying to use it's powers, to no avail, and calling to the Lotus. Nyx drew her Skana, and impaled the Tech. It's helmet had been blown off in the fight, and his eyes showed Nyx the effect of her powers.
The Tech, believing himself to be Tenno, had just been killed by another Tenno.
Lotus had abandoned him.
He'd been betrayed, abandoned, by the rest of the Tenno.
He truly believed all this.
Nyx knew, even then, so long ago, that the look in that Tech's eyes would haunt her for the rest of her life, would keep her awake and tired as she was now.
Nyx rolled out of bed and walked out, into the hallway. Nekros stood leaning against the wall, deep in thought. At the slight sound of the door sliding open, he opened an eye, then smiled his cynical smile.
"Can't sleep, little Mind Bender?" He asked.
"Not any more than you can, Desecrator." Nyx replied cooly. She felt bad, but was not in the mood. Nekros frowned, and walked away. Nyx shook her head, and walked in the opposite direction.
Ember was also awake. She sat, idly flinging a fireball from hand to hand.
"Hail, Ember. Can't sleep?"
"Not tonight. Valkyr came back." Ember said gravely. Nyx shuddered. Valkyr had been a good kid, before her time in Alad V's labs. Now the Tenno all, even Rhino, shied away from her, and her constant aura of rage. She was always stomping somewhere, punching or clawing walls, screaming randomly, a loud piercing wail that chilled even Nekros to the bone. Only once had Nyx ever seen Valkyr not angry.
She'd just come back from a mission, and happened to cross Valkyr's path. Nodding and greeting her, (this was when the Tenno had still had hope that she would recover) she paused and realized that Valkyr wasn't paying attention. Her hands covered her scarred eyes, Corpus locks hanging off her arms and feet, wires sparking occasionally. Nyx put a hand on Valkyr's shoulder. Startled, Valkyr had jumped away, slamming up against the wall and staring past long blue hair that fell in a tangled mess from her head at Nyx, sheer terror writ plain across her face.
Nyx looked away, an left. Valkyr was not the rage-driven anger-filled killing machine everyone thought she was; really, she was a terrified child, broken and weeping as often and she was vengeful and furious.
She used to be the friendliest face.
Nyx nodded sympathy to Ember.
"Walk with me?" She asked.
"Sure." Ember replied. The fiery girl stood, and sauntered after Nyx, both silent and taking comfort in the other's presence. Muffled by the bulkheads, wails of grief and rage could be heard.
Nekros stalked the halls, feeling the souls of Tenno in their rooms as he passed. Inwardly he groaned. Up ahead a Tenno, tall and wide, was walking towards him.
"Nekros! Hail!" A deep and booming voice called.
"Hail, Oberon." Nekros said, sneering.
"No need to be so outwardly hateful, brother." Oberon said.
It was natural that they should be at odds. Nekros was the death mage. The black-robed necromancer. Oberon was the paladin, bastion of light and life; a true holy knight.
They were as opposite and night and day.
"We are not brothers. We are comrades, nothing more." Nekros hissed.
"We are all brothers and sisters under the Lotus, Brother, and to deny it is to incur Our Lady's wrath. I'd prefer not to be your executioner, this day, Necromancer." Oberon said, malice in his voice. He detested Nekros, that mush was plain. His use of Lotus as an excuse for his lack of will to kill Nekros was brought about by this mad Idea that the Lotus was a higher being, leading the Tenno to victory, as any god leads his followers to victory; the Tenno, to Oberon, would win because they were right, they were the champions of good, and would smite down any who did not share their faith.
Nekros sneered, and walked away. No point in talking to that crazy old bastard.
Frost was in the Common's room when Nekros entered.
"Ah, someone I can be around without developing a headache." Nekros mumbled to himself. He had a grudging respect for Frost's icy temperament. Frost didn't care about anyone else, Nekros didn't either, and though both were acutely aware of the other, both were doing their best not to show it.
Nekros heard the long wail of a tormented mind, and shivered. Poor kid. He furrowed his brow beneath his Shroud, and minutely tightened his fist. Looking down at the betraying hand, his features softened and he looked away from his hands. They were soaked in dried blood and rotted bodies. Disgusting on it's own, but he had to feel more than decrepit flesh. He had to feel his victims' souls. Memories, being born in a giant test tube, flash-cloned, flash-trained, and sent to die. There was one great fear; himself. He always appeared to himself in these memories as a black cloaked being, bearing no remorse, driving even the strongest willed to insanity through sheer fear.
It was horrifying. He wore his Shroud so he would not see his own face. It filled him with too much fear. He was afraid of himself, knew it, and hated it.
