#*:・ﾟ ` uldren / beneath the wings of darkness.

[thefangirlthatwaited]

The City of Dreams and Crow's (Chapter 14) - A Destiny Universe Story

Uldren Sov x Original Character

I slumped in the chair and let out an exasperated sigh. “Did Mom tell you she wants me out of the Crows?” 

“She did. Are you going to leave?” 

“I don’t want to. But without my legs-” I began to say, but my brother cut me off. 

“You will walk again, Aurora. You can sit up on your own. It’s only a matter of time before you’re up and moving.”

“You sound like mom,” I mumbled. 

“Ouch,” Jolyon chuckled. We ended up in the garden, and I took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air after a month locked in my hospital room. 

“How has it been back with the Crows? I bet everyone is having a laugh about me being in here.” 

Jolyon shook his head. “No one is really saying anything. Uldren is also in the hospital, so I’m in charge, and they won’t dare say a word.” 

I turned to my brother, a mix of surprise and suspicion on my face. “Uldren is still here?” He nodded, his gaze shifting away. “But the doctor said it was just a few cracked ribs.” Jolyon looked away, and I knew he was hiding something from me. “Jolyon.” 

“It isn’t my place to say.” He explained

I stared down at my lap, the weight of my failure heavy on my shoulders. “It was my responsibility to keep Uldren safe.”

Jolyon sighed and started pushing me back to the hospital. “Jol?” I asked, my confusion growing. 

“Don’t say a word right now. Let me handle this.” I nodded and let Jolyon lead. We arrived in a part of the hospital I’d never seen before. This was the royal wing. Jolyon was taking me to see Uldren. 

“Stop. State your business.” A Corsair guarding the door said. 

“I’m here to see the Prince. I’m one of his Crows. His second in command.” Jolyon explained. The guard nods but then looks at me. 

“And her?” 

“She is also one of his Crows, also the one who saved his life.” Saved his life? Jolyon was laying it on thick. Uldren was in the hospital because of me. The Corsair expected the explanation and opened the door.

The interior of the room wasn’t a hospital room; it was more like a hotel suite. Then again, this was the Royal Wing. It was for Mara and her brother.

“Jol?” A voice said from across the room. I looked up and saw Uldren sitting at his desk with a mountain of paperwork around him. “What are you doing here?” Uldren asked. 

“Wanted to come and see how you are doing. Aurora was also worried about you.” My body felt on fire when Jolyon told Uldren I was worried about him. Uldren looked over at me, and a warm smile crossed his face. That was the first time I’ve seen Uldren genuinely smile at me.

“I heard you woke up. Sorry, I didn’t come to see you,” Uldren said. Then I saw why. He rolled himself away from his desk towards us. “I can’t walk either,” he said, a dark look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I failed the mission.

“Aurora, this isn’t on you,” Uldren exclaimed, rolling closer to me. “You saved my life.” He assured me, grabbing my hand. The darkness I felt before when Uldren touched my skin returned, and I fought the shiver and recoil from his touch.

I-” I started to say, but Uldren shook his head. 

“You almost gave your life for me. This injury is from me trying to save you.” 

“I don’t remember what happened,” I explained. “I remember the shot, then being on the ground, in immense pain.” 

Uldren offered me a half-smile. “After you got shot, you flew off the edge. I grabbed your arm to try and pull you back up, but the ground beneath us gave way, sending us both tumbling down.” 

“How did we get home?” 

Uldren shrugged his shoulders.

“I was hoping you could tell me.” 

“Sorry. I can’t remember.” 

“It’s okay. We are both alive. That’s all I can ask for.” I nodded.

“I’m still sorry.”

Uldren waved me off as he rolled himself back to his desk. “Apology accepted.”

The Corsair knocked on the door. “Sir, Queen Mara is on her way.” She announced.

“We’ll leave you,” Jolyon said, pushing me out. 

“Good luck on your recovery, Aurora,” Uldren said.

“You too.”

Full Chapter on Ao3

[royalswrath-blog]

[rhaenyratargeryn]

A Series of Firsts, pt. I (Crow x f!guardian)

Rating: T

Summary: First confessions, first drink, first kiss. All in one.

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment her perspective shifted. It was one thing to say, when you awake as a guardian, whomever you were in your past life is gone, and another to put it into practice.

Especially when you knew the person that guardian had been in the very recent past.

Especially when you were the reason that person had died.

Of all the things Crow had learned (mostly against his will) about who he was before he awoke to the Light, that was one thing she was glad he had not discovered.

Which was a whole other mess for her mind and her heart to work out. It was hard enough at the start seeing the face of the man who she had hunted, had chased over the stars with hatred in her heart and revenge in her hands. Hands that had fired the Ace of Spades into Uldren Sov until he breathed no more.

Uldren had been proud. Haughty. A prince in his status and his manner.

And now this man who wore his face was hissing at having scorched his fingertips on the crackling campfire after adding a log. He sheepishly blew on them as Glint shook his small chassis with a chiding air.

“I told you to use a smaller log.”

“By all means, show me how it is done, Sparky.”

Glint couldn’t scowl, but the way his edges tightened and he groaned said well enough that he hated the endearment.

“That’s what I thought.” Crow said with a grin, catching her eye as she watched him. The expression softened, his voice lowering, “How’s it coming?”

Right. She was supposed to be mixing up the stew. Pulled from her thoughts, she returned to stirring, mixing packets of dried vegetable and meat rations into the stock that was, in truth, mostly water. It was a typical meal for guardians on the ground. And… well, despite Zavala having learned of Crow’s real identity, it was too risky still to have him walking around the tower.

He’d needed to “get out and stretch his wings” as he called it, and so here she was. Camped out in the EDZ with the Lightbringer formerly known as Uldren Sov. The man she had killed. And now the man she was stupidly, and irreversibly already half in love with.

There had been moments. Lots of moments. Too many moments.

First she’d thought the affection stemmed from the fact he looked up to her. Just another new Lightbearer with an awed respect for the Young Wolf, Hero of the Red War, the “Chosen One”… it wasn’t like she had set out to be any of those things. She had just done what needed to be done. She recalled she told him that once and he had chuckled with such… fondness. His voice pitching low then as it did now or whenever they were alone.

Like their conversations were a secret. His words for her ears alone.

She set the pot over the flame on it’s hanger, noting that despite Glint’s criticisms, the flame was high enough and hot enough to use.

“You seem distracted tonight.” Crow said, letting his hood fall back. Even in the dark his eyes glowed faintly, the color of a sunrise.

She told herself the shiver that ran up and down her arms was from the chill in the air.

“I’ve never been a talker.” She said and settled back down next to him. It was near enough that one of them only had to reach out to touch the other. It would be too obvious to move now, she thought with a silent curse, frowning to herself.

“Is that so?” Crow said, his voice so earnest that for a moment she didn’t realize he was teasing her until she looked up and saw the faint smile on his lips.

Her traitorous heart skipped. Where was her Ghost? For that matter, where was Glint? They had both been here a moment ago.

“I thought… well… I thought maybe you were regretting bringing me along. I can’t say that last shot at the Fallen was my best moment.”

She had nearly forgotten. It was a small skirmish, something she could have easily taken solo. A Captain had swiped in close, nearly taking her arm off with his sword. Crow’s shot had missed, but it had forced the Captain back, giving her enough time to dispatch the Fallen herself. She had been surprised, but hadn’t given it more thought than that.

But now, in the dim light, she could see the same expression on Crow’s face he had worn when he came down from his perch and helped her bandage the shallow wound. It hadn’t been embarrassment, or even quite disappointment… but something else. Something deeper.

“It still saved me a very uncomfortable rez.” She said and the Crow just nodded, his brow pinched slightly as he cast his eyes aside. She turned, tilting her head to try to get back into his line of sight.

“Hey, I mean it. I would have regretted not bringing you along. This is so much better than being off on my own.”

Surprise flashed over his features, a deeper shade of indigo spreading across his cheeks. She suddenly found herself wishing a Taken portal would open up and swallow her whole. She turned away before he could see the same flush spread over her own face.

“… I agree.” Crow said and she risked another look over at him. He was smiling.

“One nice thing about being out of Spider’s lair— well, one of the nice things— I get to see you more often.”

She didn’t know what to say. The silence between them was only broken by the faint chirping of insects, the crackle of the fire and the faint bubbling sound of their dinner. Crow was looking at his hands, fidgeting with his gloves and picking at the fabric.

“Anyway. I appreciate that you humor a kinderguardian like me.” Crow began, his voice tinged with forced humor to hide the deprecation, “Letting me tag along—“

“I like it too.” She said, the words coming out so fast it came out more as “liketoo” than a comprehensive sentence.

The Crow had stopped fidgeting. The insects and the fire were overloading her senses again.

“… I really respect you. As a guardian, as a comrade. And… And I like to think of you as a friend.” Crow continued, “…and I like to think of you.”

He stopped.

“You like to think of me as—?” She prompted, breath held in her lungs.

He smiled, “That’s all. I like to think of you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Crow’s confession had brought a permanent heat to his cheeks, his expression softening as if he were marveling that he managed to even get the words out. She was marveling them too. Or more like, feeling her thoughts collapse inward on themselves like a black hole.

“What... um. What does that mean?” She said, feeling dumb and fumbling and definitely not like someone with the title of “Godslayer”.

“I… “ he began, but whatever it was that had slipped forward was beginning to retreat once more, “…well, I… it’s… just a sentiment I suppose.”

It was now or never.

“I think about you too. Often. A lot. I think about you a lot. And… I know I’m this ‘role model’ and thought of as this untouchable big damn hero and everyone— no. Look. The point is, me too.”

To his credit, the Crow listened to her outburst with quiet attentiveness, even nodding once or twice in understanding.

“It just seems impossible.” He said at last, shrugging slightly, “I can’t imagine why someone like you—”

“Don’t look at the pedestal.” She said, her voice firm, “Just look at me. C’mon, you’ve seen how I eat. I talk in my sleep too, I know I do. I never clean my guns right and I’ve had half a dozen sparrow related rezes because I’m a shitty driver.”

That last one got a laugh.

“So let’s just focus on the win here, yeah? You like me.” She waited until the Crow picked up on the prompt and he nodded, confirming it, “And I like you. Now it’s out there.”

Crow let out a breath that turned into a nervous laugh, “It’s definitely out there.”

When it became apparent neither one of them knew how to go on, there was a soft sigh from somewhere nearby. Glint and her own Ghost glided out from the trees, coming to perch near their guardians.

“And what were you two doing?” Crow said, clearly relieved for a subject change.

“Oh, just— just patrolling.” Glint said hurriedly, earning what could be imagined was a wry look from her own Ghost. He turned that look on her then as if he were exasperated with her for something.

She had a funny feeling why the pair had left them alone.

—-

A day had become a week and then a week had easily fallen into the next. Devrim had even radioed in at one point to tell them to “leave some for the rest of us” after the fourth Fallen patrol they had decimated.

They worked well together, the awkwardness of the night before fading into routine. It surprised her how natural such a foreign concept like touch was to them. A bump on the shoulder with a closed fist, a silent congratulations for a good shot. The brush of their hands when they passed ammo or a water canteen. The touch of his arm, brushing against her own perhaps every thirteenth of a second when they walked too close together.

Even at the campfire they slowly had begun to draw nearer and nearer, their orbit closing in on the other. His, with an innocent like curiosity. Her own interest decidedly less innocent, but also still— cautious. She felt the pull of his light, new and bright. Her own had not shimmered so in a long time… he was naive, young and rash. He needed looking after, not another responsibility. The point driven even further home now by the way he teetered unsteadily even sitting.

Devrim had sent a patrol over to meet them with fresh supplies. One of them being a bottle of something he called “Gulchshine” which, judging by the smell, was maybe only one molecule away from pure ethanol. Crow hadn’t drank since he was revived. Which was the same as saying he’d never drank before at all.

“This is disgusting. I can’t stop drinking it.” Crow said, his voice not so much slurred as it was relaxed. Open and unguarded.

“What is that? Is that lemon? Or is it just my taste buds dying?”

“It… definitely seems like lemon.” She said, giving a tiny sip to the cup in her own hand. There was a citrus like bite beneath the taste of rubbing alcohol, but it was not near sweet or sour enough to mask the bitterness of the clear liquid.

“Like someone whispering the word ‘lemon’ from another room.” Crow murmured and took another sip, a shudder going over him as he swallowed. He brought the bottle to his lips again and with a chuckle, she leaned nearer and said in a soft voice,

“Lemon."

Crow nearly choked on his laugh. It was a nice sound, one she didn’t hear often enough from him.

“That exactly.” He said after he’d caught his breath, turning towards her with a grin. The smile faded at the realization of how close they were. His eyes half-closed and dreamy in their regard as he lifted a hand up to brush back a strand of hair from her face.

She could smell the alcohol on his warm breath, the moss of the greenery around them, the fresh air… could feel the warmth from the Earth beneath them and from his hand on her cheek. She reached out, holding him by the chin to keep him in place as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss, as faint as the sweet taste of citrus, on his lips.

She had not expected to do that. She equally did not expect him to curl his hand behind her head and pull her in, his mouth already open for another kiss which she happily provided. Crow groaned, an involuntary and needful sound.

Desperation. She could taste it in his kiss, in the way he tentatively returned the soft touch of her tongue, inexperienced but so eager to learn. To feel. He craved it in every gasp, every pull of his fingers through her hair. He wanted to be touched— with tenderness, with kindness. His body lit with it, his breathing fast and quick and his touch edging towards rough in its eagerness. Like he couldn’t get close enough. A wanting so strong and so foreign and yet familiar. She felt him struggle with it— with his body knowing vaguely what it wanted but his mind struggling to keep up.

So she guided him. Over and over. Kissing not just his lips but the highpoint of his cheek and the juncture where his jaw met his neck. She let her teeth rasp over his pulse, thready and rapid at his throat and relished in the way he shivered. She wasn’t sure when she had been settled into his lap, only that she enjoyed the way it made her just a fraction taller.

They were wearing too many clothes. She wanted to touch him, to run her hands over every expanse of his skin until he remembered her touch more than he remembered any bullet or beam or weapon that had ever struck him. The sudden movement of her hands to the hem of his shirt had an immediate sobering effect, his body going rigid beneath her.

“… too fast.” She said, nodding half at her self. She let her hands slide back up, resting her arms around his shoulders. Crow swallowed thickly and she repressed the urge to kiss his neck all over again.

“I’ve never— I mean, not that I remember…”

It made perfect sense. His uncertainty mixed with certainty. Moments of lucidness where he no doubt remembered past lovers, past kisses, and then for them to fade like starlight from his grasp. Despite the confession, the Crow didn’t look daunted, his hands still clutching to her waist.

“Do you want to stop?” She asked, shifting her weight back.

“I…“ Crow paused, his pupils blown wide, an eclipse on a sunset sky, “… I just want to touch you. Is… is that okay?”

“That’s okay.” She said, pressing a kiss to his jaw and relishing in the way he relaxed beneath her hands. His arms held her so tightly, their ribs pressed together hard enough for there to be a faint spark of pain. She didn’t care.

His fingers had found a spot beneath her collar, seeking out the soft skin at the nape of her neck. She turned her cheek against his, pressing and rubbing her lips against him more than actually kissing. Crow seemed dazed, a soft hum coming from his throat as she felt his eyelashes brush against her skin, his eyes closing.

“Is everyone this warm?” He asked, unthinking, “Sorry— weird question.”

“Probably has something to do with the Gulchshine.”

She pulled back, placing her hands on either side of his face and noting the warmth radiating from his skin.

“You’re flushed down your neck.” She said, observing the darker blue color that bloomed out over his skin.

“I’m not that drunk.”

She rose an eyebrow.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t drunk, just not that drunk.”

“So is this for me then?”

He didn’t answer, a sputter dying in his throat as he shook his head.

“I lied. I’m drunk.”

She laughed and kissed him again, just to be sure and he breathed into it like she was the very air he needed. An arm around her waist, his hand tangled in her hair, he followed her kiss by kiss, learning his own rhythm and occasionally trying something new. Discovering how he liked to kiss her. How he liked to be kissed back. It felt important. It felt special. These things only heightening the very intimacy of the act.

She’d never felt this way just from kissing someone before. Something she imagined they had in common.

“... if I knew it felt this good, I would have done it a long time ago.”

“You really are drunk.”

He made a questioning noise, his mouth too busy testing out the way she has kissed his neck on her own. He licked a long line up to her jaw. She had definitely not shown him that.

“People are more honest when they are drunk.” She clarified, her words veering towards breathless

“Glitch might have mentioned it.”

At the mention of the ghosts, both guardians froze, eyes drifting to where the two lights were perched, watchful but silent nearby.

They had forgotten they were there.

Oh god they had forgotten they were there.

“Don’t mind us.” Her own Ghost said, voice filled with dry amusement.

[fernsplaysthings]

Here’s about 2.7k words about Birds.

There’ll be more. Eventually.

Be nice to Spider. Be nice to Spider. Be nice to Spider.

“He must know we could just kill him? I’ve killed Gods. He’s just an overstuffed Ether pinata.”

Be nice to Spider. Be nice to Spider. Be nice to Spider.

Roost’s shell shivers like the wings of an agitated insect and he turns his single eye towards his Guardian, squinting across at them in judgement. The ornament, a tiny replica of a Vex Harpy, does make the whole spectacle a little sillier than he wants but the impact, he hopes, will be the same. Nestled in the seat of their jumpship Kestral swings their vision away from their descent into the tattered islands of the Reef to take in the scolding Ghost.

“I’m not going to kill him,” they almost whine defensively, “He just needs to know I could if I wanted to. Especially if he tries anything shitty with you. ”

The impression of a sigh sounds from the little light, “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Kes. I know we’ve seen a lot of loss and pain. Sundance, Sagira, Glint. I know some ghosts - the other kind - are showing their faces and it’s...it’s hard for you to put your feelings together. But…” Roost presses into the crook of Kestral’s neck with some force, finding rest in the collar of fur that covers their shoulders, “...You’ll always have me. We’ll have each other.”

Silence. The Ghost’s eye swivels upwards towards his Guardian’s face after waiting a moment to see if the prolonged quiet pulled a reply from them. Their face was blank and stoney and it took a moment for them to realise they were being watched intently.

Be nice to Spider. Be nice to Spider. Be nice to Spider.

“Stop trying to make me cry while I’m concentrating, you fuck.”

---

“Alright Kestral. The line’s secure. It’s just you, me and Roost.”

The Young Wolf sighs heavily, “Glint is it really a good idea for me to keep coming back here?”

They’d been jumping back and forth to the Shore for a short while now, meeting up with Crow for a run down on the Wrathborn situation and where they were in the general scheme of things. It’d be fine. Once the Celebrant was dead they could part ways and the Young Wolf could go back to their normal day to day activities. And their own normal thoughts. Because holy shit debating the morality of what they were doing and juggling the complex feeling of seeing the former Prince of the Reef’s face regularly, with the fact that the New Light had nothing to do with…

...that. 

It was stressful. And not ‘God slaying’ stressful. Not even embracing the Darkness stressful. Wading into the depths and heights of the fabled Deep Stone Crypt, although unique in it’s inflicted trauma - poor Artemis - hadn’t put them in the same situation. Killing came with it’s own special kind of low. Grieving was a totally different monster.

“I understand why you’re worried but he remembers nothing. Plus, he looks up to you,” the little Light sounds concerned, his synthesised voice with a pleading edge. He obviously and proudly loved his Guardian, “You’re the first kind face he’s seen and I - we would appreciate it. A lot, Kestral.”

Another heavier sigh and the Hunter kneaded at their temples, bracing themselves to see that face again. Reliving the moment - moments? - over again in their mind. Cayde’s final rattling words. Uldren’s futile attempts to reason his way out from the sights of Petra’s gun. The new confounding idea that they now felt something aside from pity for the man that had been laid out on the floor unready to die.

“We’ll be in the lair in a few minutes. Let Spider know we’re on our way.”

“Will do, Guardian. We’re looking forward to seeing you!”

---

Coming face to face with the man that inhabited the body of Uldren Sov was a little less jarring these days and, although still entirely uncomfortable and a little like walking on eggshells at all times, they did kind of look forward to the quick wit - without the underlying loathing he’d always had before - and how damn earnest he was. A real Guardian, determined with all his heart to help people around him.

It was endearing. Unfortunately.

Mostly because it reminded them a little of their early Guardian days. Way back when things were somehow both simpler and more difficult. When they’d known that they wanted to help wherever they saw pain and danger but unsure of who they were and what cause they were fighting for aside from the driving urge to protect...

Even when they’d end up carrying the resulting hurt with them when they left.

Long before the ‘Young Wolf’ was an icon amongst Guardians, Kestral had been sweet and earnest themself. Driven but alone. Aside from Roost, of course. And despite the fact that the face and voice of their newest member of the flock had haunted their nightmares for months they still didn’t want ‘Guardian-hood’ to break him down too. For him to succumb to the slow process of losing himself to the need to help, whatever the cost.

Shared burdens and all that.

Plus Kestral liked to think that they had a good bit of experience under their belt to pass on to him so perhaps he’d find himself happily surrounded in the Guardian ‘culture’ one day soon.

“With Savek defeated and a good number of Wrathborn taken care of I think our next target is somewhere near the mines to the north.”

Crow stands over his cluttered desk, a map somewhat resembling the Tangled Shore spread beneath his hands and marked with crosses in seemingly random locations. One of them they recognised, Sjursrest, where the Wrathborn Eliksni Savek had been called. She hadn’t been the worst enemy to fight and Spider had left them alone for a while afterwards. Apparently he was mildly generous after they’d achieved a small goal.

Naturally the generosity only lasted until another of his shipments suddenly vanished and then it was straight back to work for his poor underling.

“You think the smaller Wrathborn might lead us straight to them again?”

He turns his attention to the Hunter at his side, a head shorter than himself - if you didn’t include the nest of hair in their high ponytail - and catches their gaze. They really wanted to hate that glowing yellow stare but...it was softer than Uldren’s had ever been when looking at them. Held less contempt for what they were.

It didn’t feel like he was sizing them up for a coffin.

Realising he’d been looking a little too long, perhaps uncomfortable with the Hunter’s unnervingly steady returned look, Crow cleared his throat, “If you try the lure at the Cryptolith again we can see where it leads.”

“Sounds good to me,” they reply, stepping back from the map and holding out a palm for Roost to transmat into, “I’ll keep in touch. Unless you’ll be joining me this time?”

The slightly clunky sound of Glint’s shell as he twisted in alarm snapped Kestral away from Roost and they arched an eyebrow.

“Crow, I know you want to help but you have to stay out of sight.”

His shoulders visibly slouch and Kestral hated how defeated he looked when, knowing the ache of feeling useless, they understood how much he wanted to be out there. It made sense to keep him secreted away though, just in case a single Guardian out on the Shore recognised his face and matched him to his former life. Just in case they felt the need to let him know that they knew what he’d done. If Kestral hadn’t been sure that Uldren deserved death even at the end of their hunt, this man, completely unconnected in everything but appearance, definitely didn’t deserve the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of other Lightbearers like them.

Why did Glint have to mention them being the first friendly Guardian he’d seen?

Crow straightened up, his momentary lapse in drive apparently a small hiccough and shot a grin over to his Ghost, “I see, you want to keep me all to yourself. I can’t blame you.”

With that Kestral decided they’d seen enough wholesome Light interactions for the day and threw up a lax salute before turning on their heel and heading for the exit.

“Glint has our feed, if you find anything new let us know.”

---

The following week happened to be the beginning of the Tower’s Dawning celebration. Having taken down yet another of the big Wrathborn, a heavy shank that decided to be the biggest pain in their ass, Kestral assumed that Spider could give the newest addition to his collection a small break to enjoy a mini version of the festivities. Since Glint had explained that their last Dawning had been ‘difficult’ - Kestrel preferred the term ‘emotionally scarring’ - they’d taken it upon themself, with a little prodding from Roost, to see to it that Crow at least received some traditional cookies from at least one Guardian.

Sadly, letting the rest of the fireteam know that the body of Uldren Sov walked again and that of all people Kestral, bringer of his demise, was taking him cookies…

Yeah they didn’t have time to unpack that.

So one tin of cookies (varied flavours), a string of tiny lights shaped like engrams, two servings of powdered hot chocolate (marshmallows stored separately) and a small gift wrapped delicately in a bow made their way aboard the jumpship storage before they travelled to the Tangled Shore.

A mote of panic made its way into their mind as they landed and gathered the items; what if he didn’t like any of this? They could just leave the goods on the ship and not have to worry about being mocked...or making him feel patronised by their silly traditions. Roost’s slitted glare forced them to continue though. He completely believed Crow and Glint would appreciate the gestures and Kestral hoped that he’d been speaking with the new Lightbearer’s Ghost to confirm as much. Either that or Roost had far too much faith in his goofy Guardian’s ideas on ‘welcoming’ and ‘festivities’.

Of course all that was immediately followed by the slap in the face that was ‘realising they wanted Crow to be happy’ and decided to focus on fitting everything in their arms instead.

Naturally the easiest way to get everything to the lair would have been to transmat it all at the same time, but something had to be said for riding up with a stack of goodies. Plus Spider hated it when they rolled in on their sparrow and ditched it in the corridor for a while before sending it away. He’d not been impressed on seeing that his (least) favourite Guardian seemed to have something other than work on their mind but he said little about it. Kestrel strode by quickly regardless because any conversation with Spider that could be avoided, should be.

Glint heard them before they’d rounded the corner, floating just out of view of the entrance, little eye lighting up brighter when he realised who’d turned up. And that they had stuff.

“You didn’t warn us!”

Kestrel struck an awkward pose, upper body ladened with their bounty, “Surprise?”

Crow’s head peeked around into the corridor soon after they’d spoken, a small tilt of the head and raised eyebrow as he glanced towards Glint questioningly. The Ghost simply rounded on Kestral and Roost, nudging them into the room before spinning excitedly.

“What is all this?”

Although trying not to meet his confused face - for fear, embarrassment or shame - the Hunter realised they’d need some extra arms to sort things out. Especially since Crow’s work surfaces seemed to be partially covered in machinery and scrap, with the other parts covered in grease and...Hive gunk? No matter what it was, it was no place for cookies. Placing the small stack in his arms Kestral quickly slung the lights over...something...and powered them up.

The small ‘oh’ could’ve come from either Glint or Crow, they weren’t sure.

“Do you have somewhere sort of clean to sit?”

Glancing over to a seat fashioned from assorted stuff Crow made a pained grimace, “Not going to lie I’m not exactly used to having guests.”

No matter. An ‘only slightly ruined dust sheet’ thrown over it and Kestral was satisfied that it would do for something to sit on for a bit. They took the mini festive haul back from Crow and gestured for him to perch as they held out the tin of cookies.

“I wasn’t sure what flavour you like so…” their smile was awkward, “Yeah. I made a bunch.”

“A bunch of what?”

The Ghosts’ simultaneous outbursts made both Lightbearers startle a little and when Glint settled into a very gentle description of Dawning cookie traditions Kestral took their seat beside him, swinging their legs up to hug their knees.

“Dig in. I bought hot drinks too.”

During the time taken for Kestral to find a comfortable position and for Roost to nestle into his favourite resting spot - Kestrel’s fluffy shoulders - Crow had taken bites of, what looked like, one of each cookie flavour and Glint was telling him which flavours they probably were. Once again Kestral found themself forgetting some of the weird past involving the body beside them, and investing themself in how engrossed in trying cookies he was. How much fun Glint was having talking about festivals now that they’d both finally been able to experience a bit. How much more there was to come and-

“Sorry, do you want some?”

The Hunter blinked up at him, “They’re all yours. I don’t want to help myself to your gift.”

“Glint sa-” the little Ghost tapped a point of his shell against Crow’s face and the New Light stuttered, “Thank you, Kestral. Roost.”

A saccharine warmth filled their chest for a moment, Roost’s shell fluttering again at the shared happiness and pride. They wanted to hate it so much. ‘Past Kestral’ screamed internally about grief and pain and weariness. ‘Present Kestral’ was tired of that and kind of liked the soft smile on their companion’s face - just because they knew they’d helped, nothing else of course - and the way his little Light seemed to buzz with the sheer affection at seeing his Guardian content.

“One more thing,” they press the small gift into his hands, “Don’t get too excited.”

The Awoken’s slightly blank stare prompted Glint into another explanation about how ‘the paper’s actually meant to be removed’ and so on, Kestral mesmerised - oh no - watching him deftly undo the bow they’d worked quite hard to form, reel the ribbon into a roll and then carefully unwrap the paper, Glint all the while egging him on to tear it open since ‘gifts are supposed to be exciting’.

It wasn’t an exciting gift but they did what they could.

On the Crow’s lap lay a folded pile of thick wool and fleece, edges neatly stitched into tidy seams. The deep red of the main body of fabric seemed to be the ideal colour based on what he wore but...well, Roost had said it was a good idea. He’d unfolded it with care, running his hands over the plush underside of the item, that same soft smile on his face.

“Aha, a cosy blanket.”

“I’m sorry if it’s not much I-”

“No! No, it’s...nice. Spider doesn’t supply much in the way of luxury, and…” his voice was a kind laugh as he gestured down to his lap where Glint had already made himself a nest in the folds of the blanket, “...I think it’ll be well used.”

Kestral hadn’t intended to spend almost a full day on the Shore chattering with Crow but somewhere along the way, later into the evening, they’d dug out a camping stove, filled a pan with water and made up two hot chocolates by the colourful glow of the string lights. The pair had settled down, opposite ends of the makeshift bench, feet messily thrown somewhere on the ‘seat’ between them, warm cups in hand. And at some point while immersed in talk of other festivals celebrated at the tower, the blanket had made its way from just covering Crow’s knees to being shared across them both.

Underneath the lively Guardians’ conversation the pair of Lights quietly decided that this might become a little more complicated than they’d anticipated.

[sunbreaxer]

some oneshot i wrote out while vent writing

      "S... Dregs speeder squad... spotte... advised, in the Europea.. I say again, EDZ West..."

       Radio static crackled to life through the intercoms, but they were unable to be heard through the helmet that had been set aside. The sleek black helm in question was the crowning piece to the Wing Contender model, with an intimidating blast shield that obscured the face. It was juxtaposed safely against the seat of a sparrow, the worn fine leather on the seat of the summoned bike contrasting drastically to the smooth metal and carbon fiber of the helmet. Again, the radio had crackled to life, but the statements being spoken by Zavala were long since disregarded and had fallen on deaf ears. The owner of the shroud was not seated far away, the Guardian's back to the sparsely ridden mountainous road outside of the European Dead Zone.

       The sun was hanging low in the sky, many yellow beams that were fading into a softer hue of orange cutting through the hilly ranges and the dense forests. The sheer cliffside that the lone guardian was seated upon was facing almost directly west, which was obvious from the way that the entire cliff had been bathed in the gentle oranges and reds that were forming as the distant swells in the land threatened to swallow up the sun and shroud all that the light touched in darkness. The breeze that swept over the mountainside caught in disheveled, short pink hair, blowing the strangely covered locks about and strewing them haphazardly to the left. This small inconvenience was dully regarded by the Guardian, who did nothing to fix it. Sharp, scarred cheekbones were captured perfectly by the softer rays of the sun, the definition of the facial features present. The color provided by the sun highlighted the brown freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks, and even then they were few and far between. Her lips were drawn into a tight purse, her expression blank and unreadable as she cast her eyes out to the setting sun. Her concentration was currently out on the sinking sun that was almost directly ahead of her, tired and weathered brilliant blue eyes focused on not one target. One finely armored leg was dangling off of the cliffside, moving only when the wind had instructed it to, and even then it had not been by much at all. The other leg was tucked beneath her lithe, armored body, and her dirtied and lightly tattered alabaster cape was gently swayed by the wind that ailed it. The crinkles in the fine, faded white material were darkened by the shadows cast over it, though this was not enough to obscure the five red circles following the slope in perfect alignment.

       A very intricately carved set of gauntlets clung taut to the sculpted hands and forearms of the guardian, hidden behind a sleek, slip-resistant pair of reinforced gloves. Her clawed right hand was placed a mere few inches away from a gold plated hand cannon, the main exterior of it decorated in fine white steel. A labyrinth of swirls and complex designs lined the silver and gold plating found all over the weapon, giving it the perfect allusion to Casa Blanca in the purest form, accented by the decorative spikes lining the muzzle. The sun rays kissed the gold of the well polished and cared for weapon, giving it an otherworldly appearance as it sat casually next to the user who treated it more as an extremity than a separate item. While the item in her left hand had not been nearly as captivating, it was just as important with all things considered. Far more valuable when sentiment is considered, pragmatically speaking, more so than some banned vanguard weapon. Inspecting the item revealed it to be a cape, very neatly creased into the design of a trifold, and gingerly placed atop it was a clawed hand, hiding away the fine yet worn embroidering on the face of it. The color scheme was strikingly familiar and invoked a sweet sense of nostalgia to any well-seasoned hunter who laid eyes upon it. The value of it was far more than anything this guardian had on her person.

       This hunter in particular was no other than Rias, fabled war hero, donned in an almost complete set of the Wing Contender model. She had lacked the grips, however, as the Sealed Ahamkara Grasps were far more valuable when considering dexterity and general use, as well as donning the Cloak of Five Full Moons. In the clutch of her left hand was the telltale insignia, not visible from any angle save for the front. A red ace of spades, present in the foreground of a black cloak. Various reds, greys, blacks, and even splashes of white adorned this tatterdemalion cloak that had indubitably witnessed far better days. The far off look of Rias had only further confirmed the objective of the evening-- there was no planned combat, and there was no senseless violence. The sunset was a sure sign that her hour of mourning would come to an end, and she could continue on after spending precious time reminiscing in the memory of Cayde-6, the mentor of all hunters before the defection of Uldren Sov. That bastard got what was coming to him. Although there was hate in the way she spat his name with an internal monologue, Rias let none such emotion to grace her features. She did not feel her boiling spite for him any longer, as so much time had passed already. There were new events, new wars, and new enemies who reared their ugly heads. Time had never paused for a single soul-- and it would not start now. A deep, steadying inhale was drawn through the nose of the veteran guardian, further relaxing her posture as her anger was vented through the simple act of breathing.

       Perched on the cliff was a deity, perhaps, but in her hand was an immortal. Sharp ears had caught the approach of a speeder not far behind, and Rias saw it fit to wrap up her smoldering, and her long-overdue contemplation. She had Cayde's duty now, in a sense, and was now training new guardians under her wing, as requested by Ikora. She had declined many times before, insisting that she was a lone wolf and nothing more, but had long since proven herself. Perhaps these newer guardians would be capable of bringing some emotion back to her life, after the loss of her very first fireteam. New ones will come. They always do. Your work will never be finished, Cayde. Your job will never be my burden-- no, rather, it is my opportunity now. I hope to make you proud.

[deathsdeserters]

“ what do you remember?” - for Yue

It shouldn’t have happened and yet it did. They were performing a simple patrol of the Tangled Shore, exploring the downed Hive ship that had been home to Anânh, the Brood Queen of Hiraks the Mindbender, one of the Barons of the Scorn.

The Hive and the Scorn liked their titles.

Death’s Deserters, plus Aviel, were walking the hallways of the crashed vessel. The corridor they were in was cramped, only two wide. Yue and Atsuko-5 were on point, Uldren and Severin were at mid, Aviel was at the rear.

Yue took a step into a puddle of liquid. It wasn’t the first puddle they’d encountered. There was no reason to think it was different than any other. There was no glow, no aura, no change in the surroundings, no noise. It was just a godsdamn puddle.

Her boot landed on solid chitin floor.

Then a hand appeared from out of the water and grabbed her by the ankle.

“什么?” Yue had her hand cannon trained on the arm and fired at it. The arm flinched and then began to pull. That’s when Yue was knocked to the floor. She landed on her back as the hand started to drag her into the pool of dark water.

Atsuko began firing at where the body of whatever it was attacking Yue might be. The arm reacted again with each bullet that hit, but the hand didn’t let go. And her progress into the liquid didn’t subside.

Uldren and Severin had her by her shoulders, trying to pull her back and away from what had her. Hive had entered the corridor, Thrall and Acolytes. Avriel set up a Ward of Dawn and kept as many Hive off of the two men as she could.

More hands broke the liquid’s surface and grabbed at Yue, and they began reaching for the fireteam as well.

“Let go!” Yue shouted. She wasn’t talking to her attackers, though. She was issuing an order to her team.

“No!” Severin shouted back as hands clawed at his Warlock robes..

“If you don’t, they’ll pull you in too! Don’t be stupid, let me go and don’t make me order you.” The Titan let out a yell of pain as the hands digging into her tightened. “Do it now!”

“That’s stupid!” Uldren snapped at her. “We can get you out of this!”

“No you can’t!” Yue’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “Uldren, please...”

“Let her go.” Atsuko’s calm voice was like a knife. “We’ll find you,” she said to Yue, nodding at her.

“I know you will,” she said in response, nodding back. It was a promise between friends, one that Yue knew Atsuko would not break.

Atsuko stepped back from the pool and turned to help Aviel. “Do it, let her go,” she repeated to Severin and Uldren.

Severin slowly let go of Yue. He stood there for a moment, silently. Then he ran to join Atsuko and Aviel. He didn’t look back.

Uldren knelt down even though it meant having fingers digging into his armor, hands latching onto his limbs, pulling and tugging at him. He held onto her hand. “I will find you,” he said to Yue.

“You’re the best Hunter I’ve ever known. Of course you will,” she told him, somehow managing to sound hopeful.

He nodded and fought to get away from the creatures that had captured Yue. He stood there and watched as she was pulled beneath the surface of the water. There was a solitary, perfect ripple, and then it was smooth.

She was gone.

I remember cold. I remember being cold.

I remember voices. There were two...no, three, yes, there were three voices.

Three voices.

One male...two female.

They were all speaking at once.

ɢᴏᴅ ɪs ꜰᴇᴀʀ, ꜰᴇᴀʀ ɪs ꜰᴇᴀʀ, ꜰᴇᴀʀ ɪs ᴘᴀɪɴ, ᴘᴀɪɴ ɪs ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ. ɴᴏ, ɴᴏ, ᴘᴀsᴛ, ɴᴏ, ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ꜰᴇᴀʀ ɪs ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴀ sɴᴀᴋᴇ. ꜰᴇᴀʀ ɪs ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴs sʟᴏᴡʟʏ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪᴛᴇ. ɴᴏ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ɪs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʙʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ sɪᴅᴇ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴀʀ, sʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʟɪɢʜᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɴᴏ ꜰᴇᴀʀ, ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴏɴʟʏ ɢᴇɴᴛʟʏ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sʟᴇᴇᴘ.

Wings. They had wings. Wind. A great whirlwind. The oncoming storm.

There’s a fourth voice. I see three green eyes staring back at me.

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴏɴ ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ɢᴏᴏᴅ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ. ᴏɴʟʏ sᴍᴏᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴅ sᴏɴɢ. ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ...ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ɪɴ. ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ? ᴏʀ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ? ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ ᴏɴᴄᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴘᴀʀᴛs ɴᴏᴡ. ᴘᴀʀᴛs ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇᴅ sᴄᴀʀʟᴇᴛ ᴛᴇᴀʀs ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ. ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ ɴᴏᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʏɪɴɢ. ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴ.

Where am I?

ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴏᴏᴛɪɴɢ sᴛᴀʀs ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪsʜᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴀʏᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs.

How in the hell do I get out of this place?

ʜᴏᴡ ᴄᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʀʀʏ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴜᴘɪᴅ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ʜᴏᴘᴇs?

Two green eyes...Toland?

ɪ ᴀᴍ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴋᴇʏ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ǫᴜᴇᴜɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ. ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴀᴠᴇᴅ.

Am I worthy?

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇɴ. ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅʟᴇs ᴀɴᴅ sɪɴs, sɪɴs ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴇᴅʟᴇs, ᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪsᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴇᴇᴘ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴘʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇ. ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʟᴏɢɪᴄs ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀʟsᴇ ᴀssᴜᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴs, ᴊᴜᴅɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴛᴏɴᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪsʜᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ, ᴛʜᴇ sᴀʟᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴀɴᴋɪɴᴅ.

Can I be forgiven?

ᴡᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ sᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴠɪɴɢ.

Does that mean you’ll save me?

ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ.

“That’s...that’s all I remember.” Yue drew in a deep breath and held it for a beat before exhaling slowly. If this is what Thanatonauts experienced, no wonder Severin was horrified by their overtures. Fuck this.

“I don’t understand what the hell happened,” she continued, rubbing her eyes. Her left eye had been bothering her lately and the irritation was exacerbated by being dragged into the pool. “I don’t know what any of it means, if it should be taken at face value or if there’s subtext. I guess that’s not my job, right? Leave that to Ikora and the Warlocks.”

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “There’s just one thing. There were three Hive gods wherever the hell I was. Not two. Three. Savathûn, Xivu Arath, and Oryx. Just why in the fuck did I see Oryx?”

@reefbcrn