You’re hungry. Since the time spent on that derelict ship, you’ve always been so hungry . Gnawing, gnashing, clawing, the void whispered and it fed and fed and it fed you the horrid powers but it’s not enough and you’re so still unrelentingly hungry .
You’re just so hungry.
They present you the Warframe, organic and alive in its shell. You take a moment to look.
You take a moment to listen.
I could feed you.
It fed you. It fed you until you were full, and then it kept feeding you, piece by piece by unrelenting unstopping piece, this warframe of yours, Nidus, nest . It knew of yearning. It knew of hunger.
It had a hunger that could patiently wait. It had nourishment willfully given.
It had a hunger that knew that food will not be lacking.
Their minds should have been broken. Perhaps this one was, once, before the Transference, before the sweet, blessed calm of someone knowing, understanding .
What does one do, when something rips you open and stuffs eternity into your veins? What does one do, when you’re fed suffering, when you’re fed hunger , when you’re fed ageless life ?
You look at the others and understand. They, too, hunger. Constantly aching for what they’ve lost. Constantly aching for what they could have, what they crave to have.
But they don’t understand it.
Do you mean the Tenno? Do you speak of the Warframes?
Have you not been fed the same thing? That festering hunger that took roots inside your souls and ate, and ate, and ate. The being shoved into a too tight body, too soft skin, a body made for useless mortality.
He showed it to you, your beautiful Nest. The knowledge that there’s more to mortality. The experience of relinquishing flesh for preservation. The joy of being hollowed out, piece by piece, and letting everlastingness take hold.
He made you feel it, the joy of ones corpus being feed for something much older than you, shaping you, loving you, shaping you into the form where you will protect that love .
Love. You love him. You hunger for him.
It itches, where the love starts growing under your skin. It flakes and rots and festers, and you don’t find it in yourself to particularly mind. The memory of those who have once loved you left a sore inside of you open, only to be plugged with a yearning that has never been filled.
A hole, slowly, gently being mended by shared grief, by shared joy, by understanding .
And you’re together now.
They don’t understand. They hunt, kill, chase, murder in the name of an empire that swallows all to keep everyone separate. They live, survive, revolt in the name of a woman who once loved them, who once gave them a family, home, home , a hunger sated.
So they starve and they yearn and they search for the meal they once had, the feast of emotions that gave them purpose.
But not you, never again.
You’d hate them. You should hate them, for denying themselves the joy the Warframes were submerged in, the compassion eternity have given them, to save them from destruction, to shape them into a vessel of the home and love they long for.
You should hate them, for not listening, never listening, that sweet, soft murmur, constant, constant murmur that will never leave you alone. They hunt and kill to find the closeness that’s already there, already waiting for them, if they could just open their eyes, if they could just see .
You should hate them.
But you’re so terribly selfish, wishing to keep this for yourself.
The rot inside of you grows with each passing day, each passing second, and you feel it burning underneath your skin. A life not of your own, taking root, taking hold, pulsating with each beat of your heart, spreading deeper, spreading wider.
You willingly give each part away, again and again, for you are selfish, for you are hungry, and you never wish for it to stop, this gentle love of the life taking hold of your body.
Helminth. Such a horrid name for such a kind eternity.
The empire with no family falls, and he tells you this is perfect. The empire made from soft gold and tarnished life fractures, and he tells you of freedom.
Some weep, for what they’ve done, an act of anger causing death, as if the deaths already caused by their own hands never counted.
Some rage at eternity, asking why, they’re free, they’re free , and yet they still mourn, yet they still feel a hunger that never leaves .
She puts them to sleep. She loves them, and lets them all sleep, lets them all forget, forget , to forget love to wake up in a life when there’s no one?
They’re happy, choosing to forget hunger, only to wake up ravenous.
You stay awake, held tight by eternity. There is no guilt in destroying the hollow lives where no love takes root. There’s no anger in seeing ignorance fold people into death. There’s no tears to be shed over seeing people reject the love that is in front of them.
You’re selfish. Now, you can to keep him for yourself a bit more, a bit longer, to know the truth about the body that holds you close, only you, only you , and when he invites you home, home , into the growing, into the Nests, into Unity, into an eternity of hunger that it will help you sate, you let it take you.
It reaches into you, your shed tears its blessing, your gaping soul hungry to be filled, your grasping hands taken by a gentleness that reminds you of a home you had so long ago, and you close your eyes.
Your hunger has been sated, for now, for a moment, but it’ll be back. Eternity never promised a lack of gluttony, no, for the hunger is what drives you, has driven every single one on the ship that shaped you all. But it promises sweet rewards for the gluttony, for the hunger is what drives it , it understands .
And so, you sleep, and you wait for the day when your shared hunger begs to be fed, one planet at a time.
And so, we sleep. Good night, Chuera.