#of course with shaxx's permission

[kb1301]

Got to have a selfie with Cayde when a friend of mine had just bought TFS :3

It was, incidental and completely accidental. I saw my friend going to that same area where Cayde would be and to my surprise, he's there! Took the opportunity to have them selfies now that i got the emote compared to before.

I really missed this guy. Truly. His presence in the Lost City is truly cherished T-T

[thedistantstorm]

Oxygen {1/2}

Fight on. You’re still breathing.

The Vanguard | Talks in the Rain | Mega Feels | Anger | Hurt/Comfort | Grief | Ghosts Doing The Traveler’s Work | No Pairings | Read the lore for Oxygen SR3 Here | Mild Spoilers for Joker’s Wild

Ikora stands alone most of her day. That does not bother her. It is usually quiet around her. She requires it to think about hundreds of things all at once.

Though… It has been far quieter, lately.

She never noticed - never took the few seconds it would take to notice, before today - that the pairs and trios, even the stray quartet of Guardians go silent and step widely around her station. That they look away instead of chattering to her. Even her own. There have been three new Warlocks added to their ranks this year. Sadia, Rowan - or was it Rolland? - and, and..

Ikora frowns. She cannot recall the third name, nor does she remember the face of the newest Guardian brought in from the wilds to the Tower.

That is not like her. That has never been like her. Her Warlocks, even the ones who defy her have always been like children (with the exception of the occasional strange cousin here or there, considering she's not a Dark-Age Risen).

She sighs.

“You know, I tell you at least once a day to stop your moping because there will be consequences,” Ophiuchus, her Ghost, says, through the link they share. “Your new ones are Sadia, Rowan-5, and the one you could not recall is Nahomy. She is petite and looks barely old enough to shoot a gun. Freckles, dark skin, and frizzy curls. Shaxx says she's a nightmare in the Crucible.”

Ikora nods. Ophiuchus can tell he's already lost her attention.

“Did they always avoid me like this?”

“No,” He sighs. “It started when you started yelling at them for disturbing you.”

“I would never-”

“You did,” He interrupts, his tone flat. “Hawthorne spent half an hour talking the poor girl down after you unloaded on her.” He phases in front of her, to see her facial expression. “That was a week after Cayde died. It only got worse after that. You conducted yourself horribly through the Dawning. Eva was too polite to say anything, but she was fed up with you.”

“And my Hidden?”

“Quieter than usual.”

Her sarcastic drawl seems to echo despite the quiet between them. “Afraid of me too, are they?”

“See?” He swivels around her. “This is why they avoid you.”

Her brow furrows. She hasn't been that horrible, has she?

Her Ghost, her partner, reads her mind, or perhaps the question is etched into her features: the downcast eyes, the pensive pull of her lips into a frown. “Ikora, you've been positively dreadful. Even to me. I will admit I am used to it, so it does not bother me, but you might consider-”

“Leave me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She whirls around in a narrow billowing of robes. “I said,” Her voice cracks, “Leave me.”

Ophiuchus sighs. “As you wish.” Never in all their centuries together, not as a young Guardian, nor even when the Traveler's Light was ripped from her soul has Ikora allowed anyone to see her tears. Cayde's death was the closest she'd come, but, even then, she held back.

Ophiuchus loitered around the Bazaar, watching from afar. Hawthorne's bird eyed him suspiciously, but that went both ways. Neither trusted the other. Around them, the early spring air was warmer than usual, the air thick and ready to cool off, to yield to the promise of rain.

Eventually, when Ikora's tense posture - of course she knew he was still keeping an eye on her, Ikora always knew - got to him, he fluttered with a loud enough drone into the Courtyard that when he turned, almost out of sight but not quite, Ikora's shoulders dropped just enough that he knew she was finally allowing herself to cry.

He lingered a few seconds longer, even if she would be furious later. She is still his Guardian, and will always be the best and brightest Light to him, no matter how they bicker or disagree. He wishes he could help, that she would let him comfort her, even if he would feel awkward and out of his depth about it.

It started to rain.

-/

“Would you please go talk to her?”

Zavala regards Amanda with a cool, almost disinterested gaze. “I have things to do,” He tells her.

She scoffs, her boots leaving a trail of water droplets as she traverses the floor. “I'm startin’ ta think you're right,” She says, and there's a hard edge to her tone that’s both anger and defensiveness. “Maybe they don't need a Vanguard. Seein’ as neither of ya are of any use.”

“Who told you to say that?” He asks, looking up at her, suitably baited by her words.

The blonde toes the floor with her boot.

“Amanda.”

She bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut. He's reminded of a time, not that long ago when she was far smaller - wobbling on a prosthetic that she had yet to grow into - and had been caught parroting what others had said. The memory is a murky kind of bittersweet, as if he's seeing it underwater instead of in his mind's eye.

“Tell me.”

Amanda sighs. She’s never been able to keep up the charade for long. “Alright, but you ain't gonna like it.”

He blinks, waiting. She fidgets.

“It was Hawthorne.” Amanda looks down at the floor before taking a breath and forcing herself to meet his gaze. She's always been the courageous sort. “An’ I'm sure she'll tell you so herself, if she hasn't already. Because she's startin’ to believe it.” Amanda takes a breath that's nearly a gasp. “I don't wanna,” She admits, sounding sad, “But ya sure aren't givin’ us anything to go on.”

How brave she is, Zavala thinks, and yet, so emotional. “Would it truly be the end of the world?” His detachment feels like a strange itch under his skin, a prickle of something that's unusual. He does not realize he's spoken aloud.

Amanda shakes her head, her green eyes darting back and forth between his overly bright ones, as if looking for something only to realize that it isn't there. “Ya know what, forget I said anything. Never shoulda’ bothered.” She turns on her heel to leave.

“Amanda, wait.”

“I-” Her fists clench at her sides, so tightly that he can hear the sound of her leather gloves rubbing together. “No, Zavala. Ever since Cayde died, the two of you’ve acted like you've lost everything. You still have each other. Ya got the rest of us, too, if you'd get your heads out of your asses 'n stop pushin’ everybody away.”

Any reply he could have formulated is cut off by her striding away. It's a good thing, though. Zavala truly had no idea what to say. Amanda is one to seek forgiveness or ask permission. This time, she begs neither.

He sits in numb silence until Ophiuchus drifts into command, dripping from the rain.

The Commander forces himself to speak after the Ghost shifts and casts off the moisture from his shell. His voice sounds tired, defeated to his own ears. “What does Ikora need?”

The Ghost swivels in midair, slowly. “I doubt she could tell you, if you were to ask.”

“Then, forgive me for sounding rude, but... why are you here?”

“Because I believe she needs you.”

-/

Earlier:

Ophiuchus spent the evening wandering about in the rain. To be honest, he didn't enjoy it very much. He preferred to linger under the awnings of the Bazaar or under the knotted tree in the Courtyard, but others were there, seeking shelter from the spring storm.

Wandering aimlessly reminded him of before. Before he had a purpose. When he was lost, set adrift in the universe, cast off from the Traveler and forced to search for someone he did not know. Forced to rely on a feeling. No rationality, only sentimentality - a strange fluctuating feeling, a pull from a place deep within him that had no name.

He did not like before.

He remembers very vividly seeing her bones, feeling the call of a soul not yet completely stripped away from the physical realm. Bringing her back was something he wished he could watch on a loop. Her soul was so very beautiful as his Light reconstructed her being around it. Sad, earnest. Watchful. Yearning. Intelligent.

She rose from her first death quietly, without fuss or shock. Not the pomp and circumstance he had witnessed with other Ghosts and their partners. It was as if she'd known what had happened.

When he explained as best he knew how, she was studious, interested. Did not interrupt. But the very millisecond after he had finished? She questioned everything.

Ophiuchus has never considered himself an emotional Ghost. But when she looked at him with that inquisitive gaze, her eyebrows drawing together while she peppered him with an interrogation that was so well thought out he couldn't believe she was only hours old, he turned his optic toward toward the Traveler, the only other guiding Light he'd ever known before the one before him and said a silent prayer of thanks.

She was perfect, he’d thought. Perfect and his. He would endeavor to do her right.

It’s that single irrationally emotional thought for a being who is wholly not emotional, that promise he’d made her so many years ago that has him worked up - there has to be something he can do, he thinks - that he zips back to the Bazaar without a second thought.

He tucks himself under her chin, heedless of the water that runs down her face or her gasp of surprise. “I refuse to let you be alone,” He tells her, feeling woefully unsure of himself - he doesn’t like this, it’s awkward, they thrive on logic, not being emotional messes - and she cups her hands around him as if they are some blubbering, sentimental Guardian/Ghost duo that expresses love and devotion at every possible moment.

They’ve gone decades without speaking, they are both prideful and curt and neither of them will ever admit they’re wrong. But she’s his Guardian. And no matter how many days they refuse to speak to one another or disagreements they have, she is his and he will come for her, always.

It’s with a start that he realizes she’s still sobbing, her fingers are cold and he’s not sure if it’s from the void or the rain, though he’d suspect both have had their hand to play.

“I don’t even know where to start,” She tells him in a muffled whisper. Something inside him eases that she isn’t mad at him for disrupting her, though he’d never admit it. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“Yes you do. You’re just grieving,” He replies, as reassuring as he can while maintaining a modicum of control over his emotional state. “It’s going to be alright, Ikora.”

“My students evade me, the other Guardians fear me, and my Fireteam? If I am to believe what I’ve realized is - I don’t even know how Zavala sits beside me in Consensus meetings. We’ve been behaving like children,” She whispers out into the coming night, her head shaking in self contempt. “The things I’ve said - to those under our jurisdiction, no less - I do not deserve to be their leader. I’ve lost touch with what I am, what they need me to be.”

“You’re no less human because I can resurrect you,” Ophiuchus reminds her. “And humans are prone to having feelings and making mistakes. Ghosts too, as much as I’ll never admit it.”

She looks down at him, brushes one of the fins of his shell carefully and releases him back into the rain.

“I think I’d like to be alone a while longer, Ophiuchus.” And then quieter, “Please.”

He bobs in an affirmative. They probably won’t have another moment like this for a few centuries. He purposely hovers near her ear before he goes. “I won’t be far.”

....to be continued.

[cayde-6]

I am still a bit salty that Uldren shot me with my own gun but I hold absolutely nothing against you kid, just like how I wasn't the Cayde work for Clovis Bray.

Some advice:

To get most Hunters to listen make it short and speak clearly.

Make sure Hunters clean out the dens. Some volunteer and a majority of the time it's those who don't want to be alone or need a distraction and since it takes multiple Guardians to clean them it helps their minds.

Hunters like the other two classes are stubborn so make sure they're taking care of themselves both physically and emotionally because you're now their parent to an extent. Yes the Vanguard are actually parental figures to a large majority of Guardians.

Speaking of being a parental figure you will have Guardians from other classes who will treat you like a parent or a family member, and well I would say don't be surprised to be called "Dad" or "Uncle" but it always surprised me.

Hunters might seem like a bunch of lone wolves that love to explore but a large majority of them are in packs or the normal Fireteam.

For those Hunters who are lone wolves make sure they get some socialization, for those who refuse to send them out to help around the Tower because it will still give them some form of socialization even if it's small.

Hunter/Guardian cuddle piles are a thing. It's socially acceptable to just join another Guardian for a cuddle even they don't know each other but of course ask first. You will find Guardians who always let you join and if they tell you "No" one day make sure they're okay.

Titans might have that stigmatism attached to them about being nothing but crayon eating punching machines but a lot of them are battlefield strategists, commanders, tacticians.

Warlocks are either wise or extremely intelligent, very rarely is there one with both traits. But being either or isn't a bad thing since they can and will talk circles around you to make you feel dumb.

Both Zavala and Ikora will give a hug if asked, unless they're angry at you then it's a smaller chance of them saying yes.

Yes Ikora and her shotguns are in fact scary, even Drifter is terrified of her. If he says that he's not scared then he's lying to you.

Please do not ask Ikora about her book club because she will throw something at your head and she's very accurate even when she never looked at you.

No there's no stopping Ikora from drinking tea, she's been doing it for as long as I can remember.

Ikora does appreciate it if you offer to get her snacks or a tea, she will return the favor if you ask her.

Don't touch Zavala's knitting needles unless you ask permission or you're picking them up for him. He really doesn't mind much about people touching stuff in his office but those are the exception, and make sure every new Hunter is aware of this.

Zavala has a large collection of knitting presents from Guardians so don't be surprised if you happen to see them. Big Blue cherishes any present as long as they're not inappropriate but he is a sucker for knitted ones. Don't give him a stress ball because those get broken very quickly and easily.

The Vanguard actually have fidget toys or sensory items for Guardians, I always make sure the Hunter nests are stocked.

Resets on Exos are always beyond stressful since you're messing with their "brain" but they're only done in an emergency with the approval of all three Vanguard members.

Guardians can and will get into everything so make sure you lock stuff up and inform them of what they're not allowed to touch.

A ball can easily distract a group of Guardians. I have a crate full of balls with a pump so if you need to distract a bored group of Guardians then offer a ball to them.

Shaxx is known as a sword master but he's also very good with a bow and knowledgeable on them.

Try and join Shaxx for a trip down to the city for dodgeball, and be warned Shaxx is just as intense as commentating Crucible matches. But he will not shout as loud because he doesn't want to hurt the kids' ears.

Shaxx can actually be very quiet if needed, and can be very caring.

Respect Lord Saladin as best as you can because I know he can be a bit extreme. He's still recovering from the SIVA incident, he's gotten better but when shutting him down know that he's only trying to do what he thinks is best.

Saladin does appreciate it if you try and convince Hunters (as well as the other two classes) to at least do one match of Iron Banner.

If Lady Efrideet ever pops up again show her as much respect as you can because if you anger her then be ready to get thrown a very far distance, and probably off the Tower or the Iron Temple.

Lady Efrideet is a wild one but very nice to hang out with. Just be aware she has destroyed Drifter's bar in under five minutes.

The Wolves at the Iron Temple actually don't mind getting some pets.

Shiro-4 prefers to stay at the Iron Temple but you can get him to run a mission or two if they require his skill set and there's no one else available.

The Guardian or the Young Wolf doesn't talk much but don't take offense to it, kid was never very talkative when they first showed up at the Tower.

The Young Wolf is loot motivated which is a problem but it does come in handy.

The Young Wolf does tend to show up wanting a hug from someone if Shaxx isn't available to give his spouse love.

Please treat Eris like she's still a Hunter even though you really can't give her orders, she secretly appreciates it. Doing something like keeping her updated on new Hunter nest locations makes her feel better.

Eris loves raisins so it wouldn't hurt to give her even a tiny box of them.

Ana Bray is hard to keep track of, I mean she went a long time in hiding from even Ikora's Hidden.

Try and talk to Ana every single time she's at the Tower. She mostly wil talk about her family but if someone is bothering her then she'll tell you, or at least say that something is bothering then go talk to either Zavala, Ikora, or Shaxx.

As you most likely know that Banshee-44 doesn't have the best of memory due to his amount of resets but he's nice to relax with.

Rahool might be ignorant but remember that he still has feelings so be polite as possible, also call him out if he's being more unnecessarily rude than usual. Also if you're around him then make sure a Guardian isn't trying to punch him over loot.

Please make new and old Guardians are nice to Tess since they tend to get angry at her because their Bright Engram didn't give them anything good.

Drifter of course is food motivated because of how he's constantly starving, so if you need him to fix something then bring some food with you and the chances of him helping significantly increases.

Don't run Gambit and if you do then try not to invade a lot because it can mess with you psychologically. Some Guardians have a tolerance, some don't, and some don't even get bothered at all.

Drifter can actually be very nice but it's extremely rare.

Don't forget to make a Dare and make it detailed as possible, also make sure that only Hunters can step up as Hunter Vanguard and no one else because I realized my mistake but got too lazy to change it.

After all this time being free from the moniker vuvuzela

Sigh

[fleetwoodmoth]

Hey so like if a character is canon I'm sorry you can't own them. I've gotten asks before about people wondering if they can ship their guardians with Shaxx, and the answer is always yes of course. I don't own him (if you use my design all I ask is credit and a link), and yeah he's super important to me, but that means nothing in the grand scheme of things. Bungie owns him, I don't, this goes for all canon characters in all media. You don't have a right to bully people for making content of their characters and canon characters whether it be shipping or otherwise because they're special to you. That's a form of gatekeeping and it's a way to make people feel unwelcome or uncomfortable. OCs are of course different, you gotta ask permission for that kinda thing and understand if the answer is no. There's a difference between being defensive of how a fandom portrays a character (if it's racist, sexist, homophobic ect) and outright telling someone they can't ship or write about a canon character because it goes against your own personal headcanons. Don't be excluding. And if it really bothers you all that much then block people/unfollow them and move on. Someone else's enjoyment of something isn't going to lessen yours unless you let it.

[thedistantstorm]

Phoenix Protocol 21

Zavala x Awoken Female Warlock | Mid/Post Forsaken | Slowburn | Gratuitous Descriptions of Light | Self-Confidence/Self-Worth Issues | Redemption

When the Traveler’s Light was returned to the Guardians after the defeat of the Cabal, it did not manifest itself the same in everyone. Miyu, an Awoken Warlock, finds herself struggling with her abilities, her Light feeling different and not her own. With her Vanguard preoccupied with grief and all eyes turned to the Reef, she finds herself turning to an unlikely source in an attempt to rediscover her connection to the Light and define what it means for her as a Dawnblade.

Previously

-/

Ikora's study smells like lavender. To the outsider, it only exaggerates her usual aura of reserved calm. She looks steady, peaceful. To Miyu, it is only further indication that she feels unsettled.

It has been four days since the incident.

Three days since she'd been back to the Tower. Three days since Ikora and Zavala had their official, loud enough for the Jovians to hear them (Shaxx's words, not hers) argument on leadership and grief and plenty of other things that most of the Tower heard. Two days since Ikora had sent her a message: half angry, half hurt but all self-loathing with an undercurrent of remorse.

The door is open so she steps through, centuries of quick footwork making her steps virtually silent. Ikora's eyes are focused on a text propped in front of her, frowning as she studies it.

Miyu takes a breath, wills her hands to be still and speaks. “Do you have a moment?”

The Warlock Vanguard looks up immediately and backs away from her task. “Of course,” She says, almost tripping over her words. “Please, take a seat.” She gestures to a bench, covered with a strangely detailed tapestry. Miyu complies. “How are you feeling?”

Her bright eyes link with Ikora's golden ones. She thinks of the Speaker, and of visions and of what is best and right and what she should say.

“If I told you I'm fine, would you believe me?”

Ikora shakes her head, just a fraction. “I…” Her eyes harden with her lack of surety, “I don't know.”

Miyu nods. Lays a pale, trembling hand on Ikora's arm and pretends not to notice Ikora examining her fingers. They twitch, a result of still-frazzled nerves, though they are mostly the color of her skin and not a pinkish brown-black like they had been. “I’m not angry with you,” She finally says. The gesture is a stretch, but she pushes through. “So please don't be angry with yourself, as it pertains to me.”

“You almost-”

“Died. Permanently. I've been told.” Miyu removes her hand from Ikora's forearm to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Zavala’s been regarding her like she’s made of glass. She doesn’t need it from Ikora, too. “I'm sorry for worrying you.”

“You,” She frowns and Miyu knows worry isn’t quite the word her Vanguard would call it. The Speaker's words flash in her mind. Overwhelmed might be the correct word, but it would certainly entertain Ikora's wrath. “I-”

It's a rarity that the Warlock before her cannot find the words. It helps her feel confident. She might make it through this conversation after all. “I know we have not seen eye to eye lately, Ikora, but there is something I would like to ask, if you're still willing.”

-/

“You were the one who told me you didn’t want to go to Mercury,” Zavala tries his best not to growl, “You told me you would be furious with me if I attempted convince you to see Osiris.” He pauses. It does nothing to temper his frustration. “And yet, Ikora has just submitted a request to allow you to leave that states that you asked to go.”

“I asked her to speak with you,” Miyu replies mildly. Zavala’s eyebrows rise, as if he cannot believe she’s just said that. The Warlock sighs. She had expected as much, after all. “Look, I know you two are fighting but-”

“Our disagreements on other affairs aside,” He begins, voice rising like a wave making landfall. It takes everything in her not to shrink back at the bite in his tone. “She nearly killed you! Her lack of judgement almost cost you your-”

“Don’t you think she knows that?” Miyu holds out both hands. She really, really doesn’t want to fight. He just needs to let her go. “Zavala, listen to me.”

“Regardless, I don’t think this is a good idea,” He says, frowning deeply. “I don’t think you should leave the Tower until we can be sure that this won’t happen again.”

Miyu shakes her head. “And if we can’t?” She questions, her voice flat. It's telling of her own discontent. “Tamashii brought me back a lot when I fought with Ikora. It wasn’t like it was just one resurrection!”

“Still. I’m worried for you.” He gestures to her and she knows she should have kept her hands behind her back. Not that it would have helped, she’s spent a great deal of time with him since things had transpired in midtown. “Your hands are still shaking. You told me they were still painful yesterday. How are they now?”

“Getting better,” She answers. “But don’t change the subject. I need you to let me see Osiris.”

His eyes narrow, examining her. She forces herself not to fidget. “What changed your mind?”

Miyu breathes deep. Forces herself to look him in the eye. “You.”

Azure eyes blink at her in surprise, his frustration and anger momentarily set aside as he studies her. He breathes out an incredulous, “What?”

“You’re the one who said that if anything could help, it was worth looking into. Even if you are at odds with Ikora, and even if you don’t like Osiris.”

“If you step into the Infinite Forest, I won’t be able to come for you, if something happens. I won’t know-”

Miyu closes her eyes. She’d thought about that, but it didn’t matter where she was. There was always some danger associated with living, immortal or not. She takes a breath. “I’m not going to die. Not permanently.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” She concedes, “But I have a good Ghost, and I’m not going to launch myself headfirst into danger.” She rounds his desk, eyeing the newly repaired cracks that have been filled with resin. Shaxx had provided her with his account of things - as well as an apology for meddling. He hadn’t believed it possible for the two of them to develop feelings for each other - more specifically for Zavala to return her budding feelings - but the unrestrained outburst was an undeniable tell.

“I know,” He says finally. He leans back in his desk chair, and she takes it as permission to drop into his lap. His arms draw up around her. “I just worry. I do not want...” She presses her lips to his cheek, but he turns after a moment and captures her lips with his own. “If you really must go, I’ll allow it. But I’m not thrilled.”

“Thank you,” She breathes, tense shoulders relaxing. “And, I know.”

“I only ask one thing.”

“Okay?” She tips her head to the side, waiting.

He remembers her telling him once that she was never selected to be one of Ikora’s Hidden because she has always been an abysmal liar. Her fists are clenched too tight, and her eyes are darting from side to side. Maybe Ikora believed her but...

Zavala rears back far enough to pin her with serious, knowing, sad eyes. Her stomach drops, but she can't look away.

Of course he knows.

“Tell me the truth, Miyu. Where do you really plan to go?”

-/

He dozes lightly beside her, his lips twitching, the muscles of his legs flexing as if mimicking a slow rendition of his gait. She slides her palm down his arm when he begins jerking slightly every three to four breaths, whatever lucid dream he’s experiencing transcending into something more like a nightmare.

When his eyes snap open, they’re brighter than usual. He looks at her sharply, as if he hasn’t spent the last hour or so unconscious. She presses in closer to him, and he kisses her with a fervor she’s not anticipating. It’s like she blinks and they’ve discarded their sleepwear, resting skin to skin from hip to shoulder. She’s pliant, laying back against the bed, looking up at him with unguarded, semi-glazed eyes, the very picture of everything he both wants and needs.

Zavala licks her lips and kisses her once again but rolls over beside her without pushing for anything more. She blinks up at the ceiling, in the dark, lashes beating almost silently against her cheeks. Tilts her head toward him. “You okay?”

There is no answer. She takes it as a no. He makes no effort to explain.

It could be so many things. She is not foolish enough to think he's over the fact that she tried to lie to him. Aside from that, there have been numerous harrowing reports from the Reef. The Awoken are demanding his support. They've sent emissaries to discuss terms. The Festival of the Lost is nearly upon them and they've already lost so much that reflecting upon it for the duration is almost more than he can bear.

Her fingers slip down his face in a too-gentle motion, contrasting with the quick flip of her body up and over to sit on top his abdomen. He opens his eyes after several dips of her fingers down to his shoulder and back. She smiles sadly at him, the same way he’s looking at her. “When I tell you,” She whispers, unable to find the strength to say it at full volume in the quiet of the room, “When I tell you that I love you, I want to say it with all of me. I know that’s unfair, I shouldn't have lied to you, and I know I’m being selfish, Zavala, but please-”

Miyu lowers her lips to his, not trusting the words to say everything she means. When they make love, neither of them speak.

Afterward, she stares up at the ceiling, catching her breath. “Part of me wishes I could go with you,” He says, quietly. She does not turn to him, afraid that he'll hold back based on some unconscious shift in her gaze. “Ikora asked me if we truly needed a Vanguard, when we-” He sighs, “During our argument. ‘The Guardians practically police themselves,’ she'd said.” Soft fingertips follow the musculature of his forearm to find the hand between them. She links his digits with hers. “She's not entirely wrong.”

Miyu stares upward still. “Are you saying you'd rather resign?” She asks, softly.

He looks over at her, his eyes sending extra light flickering down the side of her face. “I thought you would argue with me on it. At least disagree.”

She half-smiles. Zavala sees the twitch in the muscles in the side of her face. “You fight enough with yourself, I think. Plus, you've done this for a long time. No one would fault you - either of you - for wanting to step down. No one is exactly begging for your job.”

“It is not all it's cracked up to be. I do not know how much more I can take.” He squeezes her hand harder. “Are my decisions correct? Will the consequences of my actions or inactions doom those who cannot protect themselves? Am I-”

“‘He has always had such unshakable faith,’” Miyu interrupts him. She sits up so she may look upon his face, still naked and luminous. Twin quicksilver eyes seem to see right through him, shaking him to the core.

“What did you just say?”

The Warlock does not answer, posing a question of her own. “Anata.” Dearest. “Who is the one who speaks for the Traveler?”

“No one.”

She smiles gently, shaking her head. His brows furrow in confusion. “Everyone.”

He persists. “There is no Speaker, not since-”

“We are all the Traveler's voices.”

He has spent enough time around Warlocks to know when one is seeing something he does not. “Miyu, where is this coming from?”

Silence worms between them for a few moments. “I can't tell you everything,” She finally gushes, “But I promise you that your efforts are realized, and the burden of your duty does not go unseen.”

“How?” It is a brittle word, cracked under the weight of stress and and grief. Her heart burns for this man. She cannot allow him to think so little of himself, of his duties, or his sacrifices.

She does not take the sheet with her, when she rises.

“Get up. We're going for a walk.”