#the hard part would be getting him away from Zavala and Ikora

[morbid-mary]

Imagine

Cayde-6 trying to convince you to sneak him onto your ship for your next mission because he’s dying to get out of the Tower and see some action…

Cayde leans in, whispering, “Hey, take me with you. I hate this job…”

[haldenlith]

Okay, no, I'm not done ranting about my misgivings about Mara and Crow's writing as of late. I've been sitting here stewing, and I might as well shout into the void about it.

It's true, I've never liked Mara as a person, because she was condescending, arrogant, and manipulative, especially after Forsaken and scouring through everything lore wise, and seeing how she treated Uldren as just another tool in her toolkit, and was... basically abusive.

But I did think she was interesting as a character. My biggest problems with her weren't ever with her, per se, but with how the universe reacted to her. Or didn't react to her, rather. It seemed like everyone was always, all the time, blind to her actions. It was frustrating. Zavala was the only character, it seemed, that ever seemed leery of her. It was refreshing to have our Ghost yell at her when he did, even if we got shouted down by her afterwards. It was nice to see (well, read) Jolyon stand up to her. It was hella refreshing to have Ikora clap back at her, especially after Mara had spent so much time blaming The Guardian for Uldren's death, with the response of, "No Mara, you did that shit." It was nice to see the universe react to her. She finally felt, to me, like she was a part of the big web of characters and stories, and not just some detached side character. She felt... real, I guess? I still didn't like. Still didn't trust her. But still, she felt a part of everything now.

And sure, I hollered and flailed and was like "STAY AWAY FROM CROW", and was unsurprised when she was like "oh he's a blank slate, I can use that." And I even thought it was interesting when attempts at reconciliation started to happen, because we had the dilemma of "Is she genuinely trying to be a sister to Crow? Or is she just trying to yank him back into the fold, back into her toolbox?". Buuuut... then Season of the Seraph happened.

You see, her reaching out to Eramis felt... strange to me. As far as I could tell, she didn't really know Eramis, had no ties to her, anything. Eramis was just another Eliksni that fought against her and subsequently ended up in the Prison of Elders. Mara had no reason to reach out to her to be all "aren't you tired?" and trying to convince Eramis to "see reason." It all felt really out of character, to me. It'd be one thing if it was Eido or Mithrax, or even Crow (given his bleeding heart nature towards Eliksni), but Mara? Queen "I'm playing 4D Chess with Everyone Around Me"? That little point didn't sit right with me.

And ever since then, it's felt like they've been taking sandpaper to her character and filing off all the sharp points and edges. The most egregious was how apparently sad and broken up she was over Amanda Holliday's death and just like... ?????? WHY WOULD SHE CARE? (Then again, the writing during Defiance was hot garbage...) This is the same woman that led hundreds of her own people to their death without them knowing for the sake of a scheme to steal power from Oryx. She isn't going to care about some random human mechanic. The most I could see her doing is diplomatically, but coldly acknowledging it was a tragedy, but also reminding us that we've got shit to do.

And now she's all soft and sweet with Crow? After literal centuries of being cold to him? It makes no sense. It feels like they're trying extra hard to make her "likeable".

"But they're trying to reconcile the twins and their family arc." Okay, I get that. I hear you, but wouldn't it not only make more sense, but also be more interesting, if we had Mara having an issue of still trying to manipulate Crow and seeing him as a chess piece to move about the cosmic board, but also grappling with the hurt and confusion of "Why is my brother upset with me? He's supposed to love me. He's my brother. I am his sister. I'm only doing what's best for him." Like at this point, I feel like there should be a sort of cognitive dissonance or something that we, the player, can see, but perhaps Mara cannot.

It feels like they smoothed away her flaw of being unable to really relate and understand normal people for the sake of quickly fixing the Crow/Mara relationship. If it hadn't been for previous Mara-interactions with characters, I'd normally sit and wonder if Mara was being manipulative when she comes to Crow and is like "Oh I'm so sad and pained that you must endure Riven after what she did to you." It'd have been a situation of "oh is she being genuine, or is she being manipulative and saying what Crow wants to hear, just like Riven has pointed out?" But shit, now I honestly feel like they meant for her to be genuine.

AND SPEAKING OF CROW... We just spent a whole ass character arc of him reconciling with his past, with his flaws, with how he was used by Mara, and with how he was finally well aware that he was used and how destructive and abusive their sibling relationship was, and now he's just... suddenly cool with everything?

I recall him being very leery and distrusting of her. It's a point that was hammered on multiple times throughout his arc, along with the theme of him reconciling with his dark past (which was largely caused just as much by her as it was Riven). As I said in the other post, it would've made way more sense for Crow to be very cautious in response to Mara's mother-henning. "I understand why you're overprotective, BUT that's still not okay, and I still don't feel like I can trust you." And so on. Sure, there are signs of potential reconciliation there, but also signs of the self awareness he's attained, of realizing that sometimes, no matter how strong your bond is with family, maybe you simply can't trust them.

It just feels like whiplash to go from anger and distrust and perhaps even a little fear and realizing "hey my sister really, really, really fucked me up" to "yeah we've got this unbreakable bond and we're so cool now" in the span of two years-ish? Instead of real reconciliation between the siblings, it feels like history repeating itself and ignoring the whole point of his arc.

All that aside, it also feels like his character is getting very beaten into a box of tricks. As I said before, the amount of time they were spending on him, building him up, made him feel like he was going to play a very important role in the story. But now? He feels like the side character that's trotted out for misery and pain points and then shoved back into a box. We've yet to see him really come into his own, outside of the work he did during his introduction in Season of the Hunt. He feels SO VERY underutilized when you think about his skillset and abilities.

He has literal centuries of knowledge stashed in that dense skull of his. He's got some degree of mechanical genius, given that he built the crow-drones and the Wrathborn lures. He was the first person to successfully figure out how to get in AND OUT of The Black Garden, and live to tell the tale, with only the help of his pal Jolyon. No Light, no fancy Awoken space magic. He was Mara's fucking spy master, and it was at least insinuated that he was pretty good at it.

Aaaaaaaand... Crow's been just an errand boy and scout... this whole time. *sigh* It feels like they're afraid to let him do anything (they being the writers).

I just... their writing bugs me lately. It almost feels like they swapped writing teams and someone has to pick up where someone else left off, but without clear notes or anything, so they're just riffing it. Sort of. Sort of, because Mara just feels more and more sanitized, to me, and Crow is feeling minimized to being a man-pain party trick.

[have-some-heals]

Ardent-2 & Kuraokami & Khione & Sybll on missing friends

The three bowls of ramen let off wife’s of steam into the crisp fall air. The bowls were perfectly crafted giving the trio of guardians a stunning visual before they embarked on their next mission.

“You know” the exo titan began as he picked up his chopsticks and separated them with surprising grace. “The best part about these errand missions for Zavala and Ikora have got to be the chance to come to the tower… well I mean for me any way I guess you get to spend more time here..” Ardent-2 nudged the warlocks arm who sat next to him. The ramen and meat the warlock had secured slipping from the chopsticks to plop back into the bowl at the sudden touch.

“Don’t give ‘em such a hard time Ardent!” Exclaimed the hunter sitting on the opposite side of the warlock. “It’s got to be real hard on ‘em being the favorite for all these missions you know” the awoken hunter poked at her ramen with one chopstick before clumsily trying to pick up a clump of noodles. “KuraKura even has Eris’ ear right now with some secret mission. I basically had to beg to see the new armor she gave ‘em just to get Ada to design me some that fit.” Sybll stated in a partially angry partially defeated tone.

The warlock remained silent and simply ate his food. He had shown the younger hunter the gear Eris had given him for his work… gear which he’d personally thought was a bit stuffy. One set made home feel like he was a new light stick back in the library while the other was made of wood. None of it was his style nir something he’d be caught in, especially while meeting his mentors. The hunter however clearly did not share that same view as her normal armor had been replaced with armor similar to that of the wood style armor he’d gotten.

“Is tat why yous have flowahs growing outta you?” Ardent-2 asked bluntly while slurping up a strand of noodles. The titans look had changed a bit as well, though not as drastic. The normally dark metallic shades had been lightened Andre were now pastels. Like the previous set though the titans power had created cracks that illuminated the area around the titan.

“Don’t talk while you eat, it’s rude” Kuraokami said sternly before sipping at a small cup of warmed sake. “The gift from Eris was her way of thanking me as she couldn’t pay for the personal errands. That’s all” the warlock gave the hunter the side eye. “And I’m sure if you worked up the courage to talk to her instead of sending all those images and videos of the hellmouth you could have gotten a set as well.” The warlock turned his glare on the titan “and your time being spent at other posts has more to do with your little friend as I recall… at least that is what I would assume since I’ve taken your last 10 missions for you…”

Both the hunter and titan looked at their bowls in defeat.

“Eat before the rest of the team arrives” the warlock stated dryly returning to his own bowl. After a few minutes of silence the titan and hunter returned to going back and forth taking small playful swipes at each other.

The warlock had been tasked with putting together a team to investigate the sudden spike in energy on the moon again. It had Eris Morn concerned and she was unable to peel herself away to investigate. The titan and hunter had never officially worked together before but they had a few common teammates including Kuraokami and had ended up in the same clan.

“Report: the requested guardians have responded” the warlocks ghost Khione suddenly stated to the group. “We will need to find alternatives or delay”

“Who did you ask besides us” Ardent asked raising a brow.

“The idea was to bring together a group I knew and trusted. Khione give us thier responses please” the warlock pulled out a small black book and began writing as the ghost spoke.

“Book is unreachable at this time his ghost implied that the hunter may have retired.” Khione displayed a holographic image of the hunter before swapping to a titan. “Cannon-02 is unable to assist as he is working with Shaxx at this time.” Finally the ghost flipped to the a Hunter. “Clan leader Ace remains out of contact. Herself, Crow, and an unnamed guardian seem to be on a special mission on the other side of the planet.”

“Please put out a call for any guardians that are high ranking. I fear what we might discover in the dark of the moon”

[infinitewarden]

Osiris & OCD

I’ve had this post on my mind for a while but I never got around to sitting down and writing it. So here we are.

Osiris has OCD.

Yes, you read that right. Osiris has OCD and I’ll be going into depth here why he can be read that way.

To start off I would like to clarify what, exactly, OCD is since there are many misconceptions about it perpetuated by pop culture. OCD is different for everyone who has it, at least the way the symptoms present themselves. It’s not entirely about “ew yuck I hate germs.”

OCD is a long-lasting disorder in which a person has uncontrollable, reoccurring thoughts (obsessions) and/or behaviors (compulsions) that they feel the urge to repeat over and over.

Obsessions are repeated thoughts, urges, or mental images that cause anxiety. Compulsions are repetitive behaviors  that a person with OCD feels the urge to do in response to an obsessive thought.

Not all rituals or habits are compulsions. Everyone double checks things sometimes. But a person with OCD generally:        

Can't control their thoughts or behaviors, even when those thoughts or behaviors are recognized as excessive

Spends at least 1 hour a day on these thoughts or behaviors

Doesn’t get pleasure when performing the behaviors or rituals, but may feel brief relief from the anxiety the thoughts cause

Experiences significant problems in their daily life due to these thoughts or behaviors.

Source.

Now, with this clarified I can go into detail about how these symptoms present themselves with Osiris. Let’s start with bringing up a couple of instances that stood out to me (as local OCD haver.)

Bodies in the rubble.

Evacuees from the Eastern breach caught in the blast.

Their deaths filled his mind through twenty gilded eyes, capturing the scene in its totality.

Osiris would scour the Northern front in golden Light.

He looked to the shattered wall. Through the gap, mind inutile, overshadowed by the eternal precipice. Crowded with menace. Eyes peering down, seeping over, hungry, waiting to flood this last hope with plunging depth. Even now, as Fallen lines break against the Light, others stand watching from deep starless hollows. If not this, another. The dam will fail, as all do in time.

The Pigeon and the Phoenix. 9: Thin

Osiris is absent; preoccupied with insatiable predilections that drive him to worry. 

The Pigeon and the Phoenix. 11: Breathe

His mind is still taxed from his last visit. He remembers—camouflaged against the rushing atmospheric bands of Jupiter—how he drifted alongside its evergreen moon. He remembers the deep wedge that sunk between the two bodies, dividing them.

The Pyramid before him, lascivious tendrils of wildfire hue flowed from it like a grasping hand across the Cradle. The image as clear as relived trauma. Io had been dwarfed against the black angular pit seated in its atmosphere. His eyes could not leave it then; even now, he feels himself falling into its gravity as they approach again.

“Have you sent it  to Saint yet?” Sagira flitters into view. She brings him back to the present, soaring across space. 

Immolant Pt. 1

Osiris tenses his jaw in forced silence. He twiddles with code. “I’m worried about what Vance found.”

Saint places a heavy hand on Osiris’s chest. “Let go of your obsession. Do not leave chasing phantoms again.”

“Phantoms… You think the Darkness is satisfied? This is just the first move. I need to know the next before it’s made.”

“If there is something you fear, let me help you. We face this together.”

Osiris’s mind drifts to the Dark anomalies. Saint doesn’t need another burden.

“The safest place for you is the Tower, Saint. Time... tends to renege on its gifts.” 

Immolant Pt. 1

So.

Obsessions: Upsetting focus about the dark future he tries to avoid, of the Vex, of the Darkness, and of death.

There is another instance in the Tomb Rider lore where he starts down an “OCD Spiral” of obsessions, starting off with his worry over Mercury. In which Saint promptly shuts him down by grounding (lifting him by the shoulders), and diverting attention (feeding him candy.)

Let’s look at his compulsions.

“He’s dead because of me. I’ve made every precaution. I’ve had my Echoes check against trillions of disaster scenarios.” He turned to look at the fluctuating glow of the exposed chronometric core. “Mercury is the only planet that will be affected. Because that’s where he died.” 

The Sundial.

Without thinking, Osiris pulled off his gloves. Freed of the metal gauntlets, his hands looked old. He wrung them together, his fingers worrying at the edges of his ragged nails. "If the Darkness is able to claim Mars… if they take Mercury—"

"Quiet your mouth," commanded Saint-14, and Osiris did.

Saint-14 stood and then moved toward Osiris in two enormous strides. He grasped the Warlock by his shoulders and lifted him to his feet. He took Osiris's hand in his own and wordlessly filled it with triangular orange candies.

Osiris obediently placed a few in his mouth and chewed silently.

Tomb Rider.

I see infinity.

An infinity of possible worlds, so perfectly simulated as to be indistinguishable from the experiences I once called "reality." I can touch them, taste them, pass lifetimes in them! They grow within this machine like fruit upon a tree—no, a forest of trees, its fractal expansion nigh unmeasurable.

I said that to Sagira and she replied, "Sounds like a challenge."

This Ghost of mine knows me too well.

It strikes me now that I could find in this Infinite Forest a reality in which Ikora accompanied me into its endless mysteries.

What an awful, destructive machine this is.

I must know everything about it.

Kairos Function (Chest)

Osiris nods, realizing he had no right to demand action. “I apologize. Thank you.” He motions toward the windows’ reinforced glass. “The Traveler’s reforging was  a sight to behold.” His words have a faint reverence to them.

Zavala turns away from the Traveler’s pale light, his face dimmed. “Indeed. I wish it was more than just that.”

“These events were beyond us all, Zavala. I should have seen it… I just want to correct my error.”

“I’ll help you where I can, Osiris. Remain in contact, and if it is dire, I will point every gun at whatever fiend you uncover.”

Immolant Pt. 1

Compulsions: Checking and double checking again and again, picking at his nails (picking is another common OCD Thing), learning everything he can about an Upsetting Thing, chasing “loose ends” to correct stuff he considers his fault.

Interestingly enough it seems that both Saint and Sagira are aware of his tendencies and respond to them by either physically grounding him or distracting him. ( “Saint places a heavy hand on Osiris’s chest.”  -  “Sagira flitters into view. She brings him back to the present, soaring across space.”  -   “He grasped the Warlock by his shoulders and lifted him to his feet. He took Osiris’s hand in his own and wordlessly filled it with triangular orange candies.” -  “Sagira darted down as if to dive bomb her chosen, but stopped just short and met him eye to eyes.” )

Let’s also not forget that Ikora, the Speaker, and Saint have described Osiris to be obsessive, and though Osiris denies this it’s hard not to see that he is. Thus… “Obsession” part of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

So there you have it. There’s quite a bit of lore that points towards or at least allows it to be read as him having OCD.

[simping-overload]

Full Fluff Aplabet with Zavala!

A = Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Honestly lounging around the house with you is good enough for him, just reading some books, cuddling, cooking, and doing domestic stuff is what he lives for, going on walks around the city and stargazing too

B = Body - what is their favorite part of their s/o’s body?

Your hands, don't matter if they're big, small, soft, or rough(etc), he fuckin loves them

C = Cuddle - how would they cuddle their s/o?

Due to his habit of burying himself in his work, cuddles sadly aren’t very common, and you’ll have to drag his ass away from work to get cuddles sometimes(he won’t complain tho) Not against most positions, but he likes it when your lying on his chest or when your chest to chest with arms & legs wrapped around each other and his face tucked in your neck. expect some kisses while cuddling too

D = Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

in a time where they aren’t at war or in battles at every second. Living in a semi-seclude home so he can finally relax with some peace

E = Everything - You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)

'You are my light'

F = Family - Do they want one? If they do when?

He's indifferent about having a family. It's not like he's against it, he just thinks he wouldn't have the ability to be there for the child due to him being commander

G = Gifts - How do they feel about gift giving?

Finds it very adorable and intimate. Will give you gifts every so often

H = Hand Holding - How/when would they hold their s/os hands?

He likes holding your hand a lot, holding your hand under the table during meetings(even when he's talking), while y'all are going on walks throughout the city, grabbing your hand if either of you is ever feeling anxious, overwhelmed, etc. Holds your hand a lot when your cuddling, it helps him sleep

I = Injury - how would they act if their s/o got hurt?

Worried as shit, will relieve you of your duties until you are fully healed, don't try to argue him with this, you won't win

J = Jealousy - Do they get Jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

It takes a lot to get him jealous, but if he does he'll probably call you over with one of the nicknames he has for you so the person flirting can get the hint

K = Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Yeah, I'd say he's a good kisser, the first kiss was a slow one, happened after you two been separated for a few days and he missed you severally

M = Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would marriage be like?

Not really no.

N = Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

Honey, Darling, Dear, Dearest, My Love

O = On Cloud Nine - What are they like in love? Is it obvious to others? How do they express their feelings?

Due to him being the stoic person he is, those who don't know him personally can't tell he's in love, but those who are his friends(ikora, cayde, shaxx, etc)tease him relentlessly about it. Shaxx gives him advice on flirting and date ideas. When you're around he's not as focused on his work and more so on you if your talking, he finds you very distracting. He's also more laid-back and relaxed.

P = PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag about their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He's not against PDA, so he'll give you the usually getting kiss in front of others no problem, just when you try and turn it into multiple kisses he gets very flustered. He won't brag about you, since you've already made a name for yourself

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about their s/o? Do they remember every little detail they mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?).

He's very observant so he remembers most if not all things you mentioned liking. It comes in handy when he's getting you a gift for a special occasion

R = Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He's not overly romantic, but romantic enough to have you realize it. He'd do a lot a make you happy, he'll get you gifts that reminded him of you or ones that you said you liked, there's a lot of stargazing at fellwinters peaks and cuddling.

S = Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

It probably depends on what your goals are but since you managed to get with him they are probably good(in his eyes) so id say he'd be supportive and helpful. He gives good advice.

T = Thrill - How long did it take for them to get together?

Probably a couple of months, since it'll take him a bit to come to terms with it and ask you out since he has a busy schedule

U = Understanding - How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

It takes a bit but over time he'll start to understand how you express your emotions, how you handle certain situations etc, but he'll become understanding over time.

V = Value - How important is this relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?

It is very important to him, while yes being the commander is also very important but he would put you over his duties if he needed to.

W = Warrior - how do they feel about their s/o fighting? Would they fight for them, besides them etc?

Not against you fighting if you're a guardian, it becomes iffy if you're civi, but if you insist he'll help train you on some techniques when he can. He would both fight for you and beside you, no questions asked

X = X-Ray - how well can they read their s/o?

Pretty well once he's adjusted to your personality

Y = Yearning = How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He's been alone for some time so it's not hard as most, it'll just involve him burying him in his work again but Ikora and others are there to help while your gone

Z = Zen - what makes them feel calm?

Being hugged, he doesn't know why but feeling protected instead of doing the protecting is a very nice change for him.

[vagabonds-art]

Lost

Summary: This is basically how I see Kebechet (my guardian) reacting to the start of the this season and the emotional fall out of that cutscene. 

A/N: Major spoilers if you haven’t played up until the second cutscene, be warned! Also, I am aware of the Wolftone Draw lore tab but Kebe isn’t. So to her, Saint could be right.

Characters: Mara Sov, Osiris, Savathûn, Kebechet (OC Guardian), Demon (OC Ghost), a bunch of mentions like Saint, Ikora, Lakshmi

Word Count: 1,699

Warnings: Canon typical violence (its kinda there) and angst. 

She should have known. From the very moment she found him wondering about the inner Hive structures on the moon, Kebechet should have known. Vaguely, she recalled telling herself that Osiris’s mannerisms and actions were unfamiliar because of his grief. 

He had just lost Sagira. There was no way he could have been thinking clearly, anyone could understand and sympathize with that. More often than not sorrow and anger mixed together in volatile and self-destructive ways. 

That was what she told herself. And now here Kebechet stood regretting it. 

Saint’s screams of anger and sadness still echoed in her ears long after he had left. It’d been long enough that he probably made it back to the tower by now. Back to tell Ikora and Zavala everything that happened while it was fresh in his memory. Not that he would ever be able to forget. 

Kebechet knew she wouldn’t. 

That thing. That frozen construct hovered a few inches off the ground, trapped between two glowing triangle shapes created by Queen Mara was once Osiris. Though inanimate, the posture it had taken before being stopped made Kebechet feel as if it were mocking her. Locked in a position akin to something trying to rip itself free of an outer shell, head tilted upward toward the sky surrounded by wisps of swirling light. A constant reminder of what should have never happened. 

“You may speak to it.”

Mara Sov’s authoritative tone snapped the Hunter out of her thoughts. Hazel eyes finally tore away from the barely open grated door off to the back of the room to meet luminescent blue ones. 

“I’m not sure I want to…”

It was true. Kebechet wanted nothing more than to run and hide, to fall asleep and wake up from this horrible nightmare. If only that was all this was. 

“I’ve told you before, your father still lives.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe that? With everything we saw?”

Realizing her tone, Kebechet took a small step back and looked at the helm held in her hands for a moment. A small apology came on the back of a quiet sigh. Mara said nothing in return. Not that she needed to. Based on the subtle shifts of an otherwise stoic face, Kebechet knew she understood. Or at least, led on that she did. 

“It… Can’t hurt me… right?”

“Not in its current state.”

With a small nod, Kebechet put her helm back on and turned, starting to walk toward the chamber that housed the construct. She was sure to give the Techeun in the center of the room a wide berth as she passed. She’d barely rescued the tech witch from the ascendent plane and trust was a little hard to give at the moment.

What was only a minute or two at most felt like hours the closer the Hunter got to the frozen statue. When her footfalls fell silent was when it started speaking to her. 

“I am at your mercy, Guardian.”

Just like before, Savathûn’s voice was nothing like what Kebechet had expected. Not that she really knew what to expect other than low guttural growls or ear-piercing shrieks. Instead the Witch Queen’s vocals were gentle, almost welcoming in tone. 

“This construct protects me, from those who wish me harm. From my worm’s hunger. But it is a prison too. Quite elegant… Don’t you think?”

It took a moment for Kebechet to register the familiar taste of copper on her tongue before a stab of pain pulsed from where she had bitten through her right cheek. From that point on, she focused solely on that as a means of distracting herself. Distracting the growing rage and want to destroy the construct. 

For the most part, it had worked. A little too well. Savathûn was going on about her regrets, being called a liar and having skepticism. Kebechet had missed most of the one-sided conversation until she heard something about interpreting truth.

That was when the Hunter noticed everything around her starting to blur. At first, she thought it was just the visor of her helm acting up until visions of scenes past flashed before her eyes.

Savathûn’s voice acted as a narrator of sorts as she explained who she was and what she had been doing all this time. She claimed to be a friend, acting as a sort of protector when it came to the pyramid ships. The Black Fleet as she called them. When that didn’t work to her liking she took to finding a form that allowed her to gain trust among the Guardians. 

To Kebechet, it all made sense now. 

Osiris was the optimal target. He was the former Vanguard Commander, one of the heroes of the city. The means to Saint-14 being alive today. If those facts alone didn’t win over guardians and citizens alike then surely his ties to Ikora and Kebechet would. And they did. 

The current Warlock Vanguard had no issue trusting her former mentor, especially after the loss of his light. She was only trying to look out for his best interest and keep him safe within the city’s walls. And the Young Wolf? Not only was Kebechet the guardian, she was also the only one Osiris trusted to send back in time and bring Saint back alive. Being his kid must have been an added bonus when the Witch Queen found out.

As if Kebechet needed even more reason to feel absolutely horrible, Savathûn continued. 

She mentioned how it was her who brought Crow to the city for his own redemption. How she was the one to look out for Zavala when Caiatl was a threat. It even seemed as if she was bragging when she stated she was the reason House Light sought out aid from Ikora and the guardians. She was the reason for discovering Lakshmi-2’s betrayal and causing her death. 

“You may disagree with my methods,” Savathûn said with a smile evident in her tone, “but you can’t argue with results.”

Now was when Kebechet really wanted to tear away from the visions. 

Seeing the way the Witch Queen carelessly and effortlessly carried out her plan all while masquerading as Osiris was bad enough. But now the Hunter was being forced to see her father dead on the ground with the lower half of his face rapidly decaying while dozens and dozens of ink colored moths flew out of his mouth. 

“I am no villain,” Savathûn declared as the vision mercifully shifted upward, “and you are no hero.”

The imagery ended with Kebechet looking up at the Traveler being surrounded by clouds that strongly resembled a Worm God. 

“We are paracausal.”

There was a gasp that wanted to jerk out of the Hunter’s chest when her vision finally returned to normal. It took every ounce of restraint not to open fire on the construct with her auto rifle. But she did it, even managed to turn and start walking away.

With a final glance over her shoulder, Kebechet exited the chamber with as much poise as she could muster. 

She’d barely gotten a few feet away from the door before bringing Demon out of his pocket to sit in the palm of her hand. “Please…” she whispered lowly, desperately avoiding Mara’s expectant stare, “get us out of here.”

Gladly, the Ghost did so, transmitting the pair back to the ship they came in on. Once safely inside and settled, Kebechet ripped off her helm and chucked it toward the back of the cockpit. 

Demon could only watch as she fidgeted in her seat, staring at the console as if to decide what the hell to do next. Gathering his own courage, he hesitantly floated in front of her face. 

“I got a couple messages while you were dealing with… that.”

When the Hunter said nothing he continued, “One’s from Saint, the oth--”

“Play it.”

With a twist of his shell, Demon let a ball of light expand from his core. 

“My little bird, do not blame yourself for what has happened today. That thing is known as Queen of Lies for a reason. I do not trust that it ever had Osiris to begin with and neither should you. I will find the real Osiris and bring him home, this I promise you as a Titan and your second Father. Stay strong, Kebechet and remind Ikora of the same.”

The planes of Demon’s shall retracted back to his core as the message ended. His optic was downcast as he spoke, “The other was from Ikora, she just wants to talk.” 

As if realizing what he had said with the fragile nature of his guardian’s current emotions, Demon’s optic shot up to look her in the eye, “Like a Warlock and not a Titan!”

That managed to get a small scoff of a laugh from Kebechet. Already Demon could feel himself relax until she sniffled a moment later. Not even a second after that was when the water works started. 

Her chest jumped with sobs as she tried in vain to wipe the tears from her cheeks. 

“De--Demon… How-- What’re we gonna do? How can we-- Is th--there any… Can we even fi--fix this?”

“I… Kebe, I don’t know…”

Demon knew that wouldn’t help, even saw it when Kebechet’s face contorted with distress. Her head thumped softly against the back of her chair before she started to curl in on herself. The heels of her boots planted firmly on the seat of the chair as she wrapped her arms around her knees. 

Wordlessly, Demon set the flight path back to the Tower before managing to squeeze his way under his guardian’s chin in an attempt to comfort her. When she shifted he worried he’d upset her further. His concern was put to rest when she grabbed the scarf Osiris gifted to her years ago and took it off to wrap around his small drone-like body. Then her whole form shifted. 

Now sitting sideways in her chair, Kebechet tucked Demon between her shoulder and neck. Her hands cocooned around him and the scarf like she was trying to protect one of the few things she had left. 

Because she was. 

[youngster-monster]

The City v. Ahamkara

Prologue - Bloody and Raw

The way back is a blur. Cayde can’t tell if he’s moving through a dream or reality, if he’s moving or sitting still with the world flowing around him. It comes to him in disjointed snapshots, brief bursts of movement before everything freezes again like an old laggy monitor. Fire from the wreckage of the Prison; a gunshot; Petra’s voice, concerned, and his own, distant to his own ears, pantomiming humor even though he has no idea what words are leaving his mouth.

Through all of it the only tangible constant is a hand wrapped around his wrist. Razel, his brain supplies, insistent even as a part of him argues back, not quite. He thinks he can feel claws scratch lightly against the painted surface of his arm. It’s false, of course. He can’t feel input that sensitive usually and certainly not now, with half of his receptors shot to hell. Maybe his processor is making up for lost feedback with imagined ones. Not reality as much as what he expects reality to be like — new, and absurd, and scratchy like a bird perched on his arm and poking its tiny little bird-claws into the joint of his wrist to keep its balance.

Perhaps the pinprick of not-quite-pain is impossible but what isn’t, today?

He’s walking on his own two feet, although there’s a great deal more stumbling than walking involved: that’s one. He won’t call it a miracle but it’s a struggle to find a word that fits the impossible-made-possible just as well.

Sundance is dead. He forces himself to think the whole sentence, even though it hurts like a bitch in a deep part of himself he’d rather not look at. Better to have it hurt now than fester in the dark and poison him. He’s seen what that kind of grief does to guardians. There’s a good reason so few of them survive the initial loss of their Ghost. He never thought he would, himself: anything good enough to kill Sundance would surely get him, too.

But it didn’t. That’s another for the Impossible tally he’s keeping for himself.

Razel’s grip tightens slightly, protectively, as if he caught the tail-end of that thought. Here it is. The last item on the Impossible list, the one Cayde is even less keen to linger on. Sundance’s death is not an immediate, pressing matter. It’s done; there’s nothing else he can do but withstand it now. Whatever’s up with Razel is an ongoing issue and there’s nothing he wants more than to avoid thinking about it.

He’s unlikely to get any luck with that but a man can hope, yeah?

It takes an eternity to reach their ship, falling forward rather than walking until they’re in reach of a transmat and then wincing his way through the touch of an unfamiliar-familiar Ghost as Cubix transports them to the Queen of Hearts. The impact of his feet on the metal flooring makes a heavy, echoing sound. Razel doesn’t make one at all. He’s like a ghost himself, suddenly, taking twice as much space as usual with none of the flailing that should come with it.

That’s when it catches up to him in earnest — no more of that shell shocked avoidance shit. It must be something in the air, he muses, that settles too heavily on his mind until he buckles under it. Something about the quiet of his own ship, the distant sound of howling and crashing and chaos replaced with the gentle hum of an idle engine; something about the stars blinking cold and distant through the cockpit; something about the persistent rattling in his chest, where the universe twisted itself to fulfill Razel’s desire and still didn’t manage to fix the minutiae of his internal machinery. As if water-cooling is a concept beyond even paracausal miracles.

It’s all, suddenly, too much.

Cayde collapses into the pilot’s seat, clunking and creaking, all the air wheezing out of him like a sorry bagpipe. He feels his entire weight suddenly, every pound of metal and wires, in a way he can’t blame on the difference between the Coast and the artificial gravity aboard the ship. He feels his entire age, each and every single endless year of it, remembered or not. Fuck, but he’s too old for this.

And Razel still won’t stop touching him. Hasn’t ever since— ever since. Even now he has a hand on Cayde’s shoulder, fingertips tucked under the collar of his cloak to lay on the bare metal of his neck underneath.

It’s a comfort. It’s a threat. It makes Cayde’s skin crawl. He wants to jerk away from it. He wants to lean into it. He doesn’t know what he wants, or what he feels beyond confusion, exhaustion, and a bitter kind of relief — the exhausting feeling of having held a snake in your hands and trading the fear of being bitten for the venom.

He’s not used to feeling like that near Razel — one of his closest friends, someone he trusts.

“You okay?”

Stupidly, he expected Razel’s voice to sound different. It’s the same as always: a little higher-pitched than you’d expect, with that slight Awoken flanging to it. At least he’s always pinned the sound of it on Razel being an Awoken and, as such, a little bit weird, as is expected. Now he’s not so sure.

“I’m alive,” Cayde replies grimly. “Sundance is dead and my best friend—” he stumbles there, but what good is a Hunter who balks at a challenge? “Is a wish-granting space dragon in disguise, but I’m alive. Silver lining, right?”

Razel curls into himself, looking small and hurt. It’s hard to see the monster in him just then — even harder than before. He just looks like Razel, and Cayde hates seeing Razel like that — like he just got hit over the head and doesn’t know what to do about it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice winding into a white at the end.

All the fight goes out of Cayde at once. It’s not guilt; not quite. He’s too drained for guilt. But it’s a little bit close to it.

He lifts a hand and lets it fall heavily on Razel’s head, ruffling his hair. “You did what you could, buddy.”

The frown he gets in return is fierce, but no fiercer than seems normal for Razel. He’s quick to anger and even quicker to forget about it, and as dramatic as his moods may be they’re rarely destructive. At least not for the right people. Cabal are all out of luck on that front. Still there’s something in his eyes — a wild, unnatural sharpness to the familiar orange-gold glow that makes a previously unknown animal instinct in Cayde raise its hackles. Whatever happened in the Prison, whatever bolt broke open to release the creature hidden under his features, there’s no locking it back up.

It suits him, though. Perhaps it’s always been there, lurking under the surface, showing glimpses of itself through Razel’s weirdest habits. Perhaps Razel isn’t that different now from a day ago; there’s comfort in that.

After all, he broke open reality to save Cayde. That must mean something, right?

“I didn’t,” Razel says mulishly. “There has to be something more I could have done. I mean—”

He never finishes that sentence. Not that Cayde needs him to. He’s seen what Razel did do. There’s still blood flaking on his fingertips from when he wiped it off Razel’s face; there’s still a dent in his chest where a hit that crumpled his chest like a soda can should have killed him and didn’t. What else might an Ahamkara do if given the chance?

There, he said it. The damning word. It’s not as if there’s a point pussy-footing around it anymore.

“You did what you could,” Cayde repeats, giving Razel another headache-inducing pat from his half-numb arm. “And a damn sight better than what anybody else could have done for me in that situation, lemme tell you. You’re not a miracle worker.”

“Aren’t I?”

“Well— okay, maybe you are. But you’re about as qualified as I am to grant wishes, so no one’s about to blame you for botching it somewhat.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and he catches Razel’s wince in the corner of his eyes, but that goes ignored as another matter occurs to Cayde.

They might not blame Razel for the botched resurrection — knowing what they do of the limit of Ahamkara abilities, and that’s very little, it’s hard to tell whether or not he could have done more. But they will blame him for everything else. Not the near death experience, no. But being an Ahamkara? Hiding it from the City, the Vanguard, even unknowingly? It would be a crime, if any of them had known it was possible enough to make a law punishing it. It will be a crime once they catch wind of it.

And Cayde is thoroughly weirded out by the whole thing, but he’s not about to let his best friend get locked up for having saved his life.

“I have a few questions,” he says, although he’s not sure he truly wants them answered. Unfortunately there won’t be another time for it. “But once we’re home— not a word of it. Capische?”

Razel nods hard enough to dislocate a vertebrae.

Satisfied, Cayde punches in the code for manual piloting and sets the ship on course for the City. They’ve got this.

-

It occurs to Cayde that they have not got this when Ikora comes knocking at their door two days later at five a.m.

At any other hour it would be nothing out of the usual. He likes to think they’re friends, the two of them, and although it’s usually Vanguard business that brings her to their front step she’s always welcome to drop by unnanounced. He’s been expecting her, anyway.

When Razel and him crawled back to the Tower, dirty and exhausted and shell shocked, she was there to greet them. She was the first one to see Cayde’s sorry state, to ask — in a reassuringly familiar kind but straight to the point manner — what had happened. She’s the one who told him to take a leave, before Zavala even got there to order him the same. It was only a matter of days before she came by to see how he’s doing and kick him out of any self-pitying hole he might have dug for himself in the meantime.

But that’s a visit one makes during the day, or in the evening when she manages to claw back some free time from her mercilessly tight schedule. Nothing good ever comes from a five a.m visit.

Cayde opens the door in his pjs, bare feet against the cold floorboard, to Ikora and a Guardian in full armor he doesn’t recognize. They’re holding a rifle against their chest, in that kind of parade rest that Titans naturally adopt when they’ve been told they won’t have to use it and they don’t entirely believe it.

He fell asleep not two hours ago, but any bleariness remaining from his dramatically shortened night disappears at that sight.

“Mornin’,” he says, hand clenching around the door. He could slam it in their face, but the grim set of Ikora’s mouth tells him they’re far beyond that point. He shouldn’t even have opened it.

Her voice, when she speaks up, is that of the Warlock Vanguard — all business.

“Holliday sent me your records.”

Blinking, Cayde tries to connect that information to the current situation. Holliday, the shipwright. Holliday who’s been working on fixing the Queen of Hearts with a fervor that suggests it’s the only thing she knows how to fix in this damned situation. Holliday—

Who would have had to access the ship’s records to know exactly what to fix. The kind of records that include any and all audio captured aboard in the last few days.

“Fuck,” he says plainly.

She gives him a compassionate look that only makes him feel bad, until it darts up — towards the rest of the apartment — and then he feels worse. The Titan’s grip tightens on their rifle. The faint creaking of their gloves is the only sound for a good long while.

Slowly so as to not startle them into action, Cayde turns his head to look behind his shoulder. Razel has frozen in place next to the couch, holding Admiral in his arms. The cat jumps out of his grasp and pads towards Cayde, rubbing against his legs. Razel just stands there, licking his lips as if wondering if he still has time to bolt back inside their room.

“Is everything okay?” He asks eventually. He looks directly at Ikora when he says it — always does, when he’s not sure what’s going on. She’s his Vanguard; his lighthouse.

“Razel,” she says. It’s not a greeting. It’s the beginning of a longer sentence — of something worse. “You stand accused of treason, perjury, and crimes against the City at large. You will be put into Vanguard custody and judged in a court of law. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court—”

The rest turns into senseless muttering as electrical buzzing overtakes Cayde’s ears — the sound of some Light-forsaken processor going into overdrive in an effort to keep him from hyperventilating. The Titan shoulders their way past him, marches to a still immobile Razel and snaps a set of handcuffs around his wrists. There’s a burst of light as they close; Cubix materializes next to him, the first Cayde has seen of him since they left the Shattered Coast. He’s been keeping his distance to make it easier on him, Cayde thinks dumbly, that small, idiotic kindness the only thing he can focus on at the moment.

Cubix’s voice has gone shrill with worry. “You can’t do this! Ikora—”

She shakes her head, her face set in a stern expression to cover any deeper feeling she may harbor. She’s a professional; Cayde doesn’t have it in himself to admire that, right now. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Cubix, I’ll have to ask you to come with me. Alone.”

Reluctantly, he does, flying up to her. The Titan pulls Razel aside as he floats past, and they put themselves between him and Cayde when they march him past. As if they’re afraid allowing him to touch either of them would make him explode out of his restraints somehow. As it is, he remains meek as anything as he shuffles after them. It’s an incredible sight: Razel with his hair down and messy like a bird’s nest from an uneasy sleep, dressed in nothing more than a shirt — Cayde’s — his underwear — pink — and a single sock — it has a hole at the big toe — being led away in handcuffs by a Titan twice as large as he is who keeps a tight grip on his arm as if he’s liable to eat them.

But he doesn’t, and the door closes on them with a soft click and one last apologetic look from Ikora. Cayde is left behind, in a dark apartment, empty save for himself and the loud meowing of his cat in the kitchen and the gnawing impression that none of this would have happened if he wasn’t such a gigantic idiot.

Somewhere, the sun rises.

He doesn’t see it.

[Read ch. 2 on AO3]

[changingourdestiny]

Nightlight Part 1: Endless Night

Summary: 

Fireteam Paralight awake to the Last City being plunged into darkness with the sun nowhere in sight. Ikora and Osiris have no doubt about it being the Vex's doing but with no answers on how to fix it, they turn to unlikely allies for them but familiar allies to Paralight: Mithrax and Tif of House Light.

Next Part: Here

“I know I said to ‘party until the sun rises’…but this is NOT what I meant.”

Cayde and Fireteam Paralight all stood at the Helm’s front window at the endless night sky…at 11am. The sun hadn’t risen at all that morning with strange glitch-like wisps in the air. Rae let out a sigh, “Can…can someone pass me that cushion over there?”

“Oh, sure.” Crow picked up a nearby cushion resting on the war table and handed it to the Stasis Vanguard. “Thank you.” Rae calmly accepted the cushion and held it to her face before letting out a stressed and frustrated scream into the pillow. As her scream faded, Adam hesitantly spoke, “Are…are you ok, Rae?”

“My stress levels are PERFECTLY healthy, guys!” Rae said with a forced grin. “Uh huh…sure…” Blaze scooted away from Rae a bit as the sound of footsteps approached. Zavala and Ikora entered the Helm. “Thank you for coming on short notice.” Ikora began. “Figured we’d be called up here at some stage.” Blaze replied, “Usually when things take a turn for the crazy, we’re the ones that are called. And the sun being gone is kinda hard to miss.”

“Very true. With that said, allow me to deliver your briefing.” Ikora began, “As you saw, for the first time in humanity’s long and storied history, the sun did not rise. Osiris tells me it’s a Vex simulation that has plunged the City into an endless night. It seems they’ve found a way to harness our energy against us. And even in all his wisdom, Osiris can offer no solution.”

“To do something like this to the Last City…” Cayde muttered, “Whatever the Vex are planning, they’re confident enough to target our home turf.”

“That or they’re becoming desperate.” Zavala added. “The Vex rely on logic. Whatever their plan is, the chances of success for them are high enough for them to execute it.” Rae chimed in. “Rae’s right.” Ikora agreed, “I don’t know what will happen if we can’t break the Vex’s hold over the City. I do know that we must protect our people, no matter the cost.”

“Agreed.” Adam nodded. “So, what’s the plan? How’re we gonna pry the Vex’s robo-hands off the City?” Blaze asked. “The Vex are machines…” Ikora replied, “And no one understands machines better than the Eliksni. Osiris and I could only think of one we might turn to. And I believe you’re acquainted with him and one of his captains.”

“Wait…you mean…?” Rae perked up in realisation. Ikora nodded, “Mithrax, Kell of House Light. My spies report he claims to be among the last Sacred Splicers; those with the power to commune with machines. He may be our best and only hope.”

“I didn’t know he was a Splicer.” Rae muttered, “He never made it obvious during the times we met him and Tif never mentioned it either.”

“It makes sense that he would try to keep it hidden.” Crow replied, “House Dusk and the remnants of Salvation would find the abilities of Splicers useful against their enemies.”

“Hmm…fair point.” Rae said before turning back to Ikora, “Do we have any information on his location?”

“My Hidden report that both Mithrax and Tifawt were last seen on Europa, helping Variks evacuate Eliksni defectors.” Ikora explained, “Both the Vex and Eramis’s loyalists are down there hunting for survivors, shooting anything that moves. Be sure to shoot back. We need Mithrax alive if he’s to help us with our Vex problem.”

“Right.” Rae turned to her Fireteam, “You heard Ikora. Let’s hit the skies.”

“Yes ma’am!”

Fireteam Paralight hurried out of the Helm. Cayde went to follow but was stopped by Ikora. “No. You’re still in trouble for the last time you snuck out. Besides, we need all the help we can get for crowd control.”

Rae couldn’t help but feel sorry for Cayde as she heard his disappointed groan from down the hall.

~

“Oh, the Vex outside are frightful~ But the Light is so delightful~ Knock them down, blow-by-blow~ Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow~”

Blaze sang to herself as she shot down Vex after Vex with Firelight. “Nice Dawning carol.” Crow chuckled as he fired a round from Hawkmoon into a hobgoblin, “You should remember them for this year.”

“I’m already working on ‘Sainta Claus is coming to Tower’!”

Crow let out an amused snort at Blaze’s pun as Rae tuned into her comms, “Ikora, any luck on locating Mithrax?”

“You’re closing in on some residual signals. It could be Eliksni bound for House Light…or it could be more of Eramis’s loyalists.” Ikora replied. “I think I see an entrance in the ice.” Adam yelled from several feet away. “Let’s go say Velask.” Rae said as she slid down the ice into the hideout. The four Guardians landed with a faint clang onto the metal plating of the hideout. “Velask? It’s Fireteam Paralight. Is anyone here?” Rae called out before contacting Ikora again, “Empty. Looks like the Eliksni cleared out before the Vex showed up.”

“See if you can learn where they’re headed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Over here!”

Rae looked up to see Blaze by an Eliksni terminal with Crow typing away at it. “I think we found something. Some sort of looped audio recording.”

“I’ll patch it through to Ikora as well.” Crow added as he played the audio.

“-over their possessions. Trigger message repeat. This is Misraaks. To those who renounce the violence of House Salvation and seek refuge in the House of Light, I will be landing a Skiff near Asterion Abyss. Bring only what you need. We must prioritise survivors over their possessions. Trigger message repeat.”

“Asterion Abyss. That’s their rendezvous point.” Ikora began, “A single Skiff recently touched down near your position. It’s got to be Mithrax. Hurry, before he takes off.”

“Uhh…we should hurry but I don’t think he’ll be taking off.” Adam said as he stood near a cave opening looking over Asterion Abyss. In the middle of the ice and snow was a crashed ship with smoke emerging from it. “Oh no…we gotta hurry!” Rae exclaimed as she began to climb up the ice with the rest of the Fireteam not far behind. As soon as they were on smoother turf, the four Guardians summoned their Sparrows and began to speed across the snow towards the downed Skiff. “Mithrax sure is wrapped up in dangerous business, huh?” Blaze muttered. “It’s a bad time to ask for a favour, true.” Ikora replied, “But he and his House of Light still worship the Traveller. And due to your previous interactions with him and Tifawt, he’ll trust you more than the rest of us.”

“I just hope we’re not too late.” Rae sighed, “The second we get there, we secure the crash site and help any Eliksni that might have survived.”

“Crow and I can handle any Vex or Salvationists that are around while you and Adam can protect and heal survivors.” Blaze added.

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s move!”

Upon arriving at the downed Skiff, all that remained was the smouldering wreckage, Eliksni bodies, and Vex swarming the ship. Rae prepared to shoot at the Vex with Lumina when-

 “HUS NE, SHER BA!!!”

A hobgoblin that was standing atop the wreckage was suddenly shoved off by an Eliksni captain from behind with two goblins that were standing either side of it getting sliced by arc blades. The captain wore purple, blue and grey armour with the usual furry mantle at the back and the back spikes. The armour looked slightly different to a standard captain’s, mainly the boots and gloves. That’s when Rae realised it. Only one set of arms. Short for a captain. And the last piece of evidence came when the captain punched a harpy with a Stasis-covered fist.

“Tif!” Rae exclaimed with a smile. As the last Vex fell, the captain spun around at Rae’s yell, only seeming to notice the Guardians’ presence just then. “Paralight!” The familiar voice of Tif came from behind the captain-esque helmet of the Titan. Tif ran up to Rae and hugged her, lifting the Warlock off the ground slightly as they did so, “Oh my Traveller, your timing couldn’t be better! We’re trying to evacuate Salvation defectors but the Vex-”

“We know. We actually came here looking for you and Mithrax.” Rae explained. “Wait. Really?” Tif cocked their head to the side before shaking it, “There’s no time to wonder. Misraaks is keeping the refugees safe but I don’t know for how much longer they’ll last. Please hurry!”

“Lead the way.” Rae nodded. “Berhane?” Tif began. “Pike is at the ready!” Berhane chirped as a Pike appeared beside the Titan. “Follow me!” Tif yelled as they hopped on and sped across the icy tundra, Rae and co. in tow.

Visibility decreased slightly as an icy wind blew in. “We should be close.” Tif yelled as they came to a stop, “Misraakskel, are you there? Paralight are here!” As Tif called out, Mithrax emerged from a nearby cave. He wore different attire compared to the last time Rae had met up with them. His upper right arm was heavily mechanised, and he wore a grey and purple helm. “Guardians, I find you in the Light.” Mithrax greeted, “And on your signal…Ikora Rey?”

“Mithrax-kell, it is an honour. We have been searching for you for a long time.” Ikora greeted from the comms. “This is known. You are not the only one with hidden eyes.” Mithrax nodded, “Many enemies pursue my House of Light. We did not wish to be found.”

“Then times are desperate for us all.” Rae chimed in, “The Vanguard need your help.”

“Oh yeah…the Vex have been messing with the City, right?” Tif began. “You know about that?” Blaze asked with surprise. “Yes. Vex systems pulse with talk of the City’s Endless Night…but my people demand much protection.” Mithrax explained, “If Paralight could assist Tif and I in blinding the Vex here, we can speak more without risking bloodshed.”

“Blinding the Vex…we’ll do whatever you need, Mithrax-kell.” Rae nodded. Mithrax motioned for the Guardians to follow as he ran to a large clearing in the ice. He held out his mechanical arm that began to glow as a sudden pulse of Vex energy opened up a hole in the ice, “I have opened the door for you, Guardian. Will you walk the path of the Sacred Splicer?”

The four Guardians glanced at each other before nodding. “We’re ready.” Rae replied. “You might wanna hold onto your tummies!” Tif suggested, “I did this once and it gets weird. WHOOHOO!!!” Tif jumped cannonball-style into the hole with Fireteam Paralight jumping in after them. In a flash of light, the Guardians found themselves slowly descending onto a series of teal, geometric platforms in a vast purple void filled with geometric creations emerging from below. “Is this…some sort of Vex simulation?” Rae asked as they touched down. “The path before you is no illusion.” Mithrax explained through the comms, “You venture through the Vex domain itself, where the machines guard their most precious secrets. I will clear the way. Tifawt, can I count on you to guide the Guardians?”

“Yes, Misraakskel!” Tif responded with a smile.

“Very well. Good luck, Guardians.”

Rae looked out at the vast space before her and sighed, “Alright. Let’s start the crazy.”

To Be Continued…  

[niqhtlord01]

Destiny 2 Season of Dawn Funny Dialogue Part 3: Tales from the Tower

Ikora: We need to speak. Drifter: Well if it isn't my favorite vanguard warlock. I'd shake your hand but I don't want your lightning hands ruining my hair. Ikora: Your, operation, here has become far too dangerous. Drifter: Please, call it Gambit. Worked hard to get that trademarked, least you could do is use it. Ikora: Fine. This, Gambit, must be placed under Vanguard control or removed from the tower. Drifter: Why's that? Ikora: Really? You don't see anything wrong with having a container full of taken energy in the heart of Vanguard operations? Drifter: Rather funny hearing that from you when you built a portal to the Vex network just above me with no guards. Ikora: I was there to stop anything coming through. Drifter: And I'm here to squash anything that pops out, so we're even. Ikora: It's not the same. Drifter: It is, but you don't like someone who hasn't drunk the light kool aid being in control of such power and you feel threatened by it. Ikora: I hardly think you're a threat. Drifter: Then you haven't been paying attention. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   Ikora: Would you like to hear a joke? Saint: Thank you, but I do not wish to know your life story. Ikora: ....................................... -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zavala: You know, the people have come to call you the "Zavala before Zavala" since you've been gone.  Osiris: Really? Now that is humorous.  Zavala: Indeed. Osiris: As if you can compare to my greatness. Zavala: .....................

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Ada: Our wares our not for sale to you. Drifter: Easy, that's not what I'm here for. Ada: Speak, then leave; your presence alone is intolerable. Drifter: So you refused to deal with the guardians until your forge was stolen. Ada: Correct. Drifter: And you got them to help you by promising you that they could buy weapons from you. Ada: It was the most logical course. Drifter: So the whole problem could have been solved before hand if you had armed them well enough to defend your forge in the first place. Ada: Is there a point to your logic? Drifter: That's the same question I've been wondering about you.

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Ikora: I thought you would be more upset with the Drifter. Eris: And why is that? Ikora: Because he uses the Taken as pawns for his own amusement. Eris: Pawns that all die in the end. Ikora: Do you not care how they are being used? Eris: When you are fighting are you more concerned for the bullets fired from the gun, or the one using it? Ikora: Depends on who is using it. Eris: And that is why I am not concerned with the Drifter. Ikora: Because he's not a threat? Eris: (Eyes Osiris speaking with Zavala) Eris: Because he is not the greatest threat in these walls.

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Drifter: Know how much you like the Vex so I made you something. Saint: I would not say I enjoy their company. Drifter: Nor I saying you're out to marry a gate lord, so just take the gift. Drifter: (Hands Saint strange necklace) Saint: It is, most unusual; yet somehow familiar. Drifter: It's made out of the broken fingers of Vex. Saint: (Pauses to look at it, then dons it) Saint: A most strange gift, but I like it. Drifter: That's not all. The fingers glow blue when Vex are nearby. Saint: (Startled, looks at necklace again) Saint: Is this true? Drifter: Nah, but my buyers lap that fantasy stuff up and by these things by the truck load. Saint: (Takes off necklace and hands it back to Drifter, storms away) Drifter: Well what else am I supposed to do with the broken bodies of Vex after every Gambit match? Drifter: Eris only buys the Hive ones, the Cabal are too fat to move by myself, and don't even get me started on the smell of the Fallen.  

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Osiris: I am told that you can provide me with exemplary equipment. Xur: Another time guardian, I am in no mood today. Osiris: What's wrong? Xur: I....I just don't know why people don't interact with me more. Osiris: For starters you do tend to lean towards the more conspicuous places to set up shop. Xur: But I come to the tower too! But hardly anyone comes up to me and talks with me. Osiris: Nonsense. Guardians approach you all the time. Xur: Only to buy things. They never ask "How's your day Xur?" or "Want to join us on this adventure Xur?" Xur: Besides, we both know Guardians aren't people. Osiris: Hurtful, but accurate. Xur: I even made sure to follow all the steps the book Drifter gave me on how to talk to people Osiris: What book? Xur: (Pulls out book and hands to Osiris) Osiris: (looks at it) Osiris: I admit I do not know this..."H.P. Lovecraft", but I'm sure Shaxx would know. He's surprisingly a book worm when he's not shouting at people to die faster.

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Saint: I need your help comrade. Osiris: What do you need? Saint: I need to get a pet. Osiris: What about your birds? Saint: They come and go freely, I need a pet that stays by my side. It would make me feel better. Osiris: Very well. What pet would you like? Saint: A cabal war beast. Osiris: ................. Osiris: Why? Saint: It is like giant puppy. Osiris: A cabal war beast is not a pet. Saint: Neither is the Drifter but we still keep him around.

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Saint: Why do you dress like a bird? Osiris: It is reminiscent of a great phoenix symbolizing that no matter how many times I fall I will rise again. Saint: But you have not died. Osiris: No, I have not. Saint: I have died. Saint: Maybe I should be the one wearing feathers. Osiris: You just want to dress as a bird for your pigeons. Saint: I would be their big fluffy protector!

[fireteam-dauntless]

A Tale of Two Guardians XXXII

Part I of the Destined Series Chapter 32 : Free Will

word count : 2.4K masterlist | tag list : @mail-me-a-snail @basically-nacl @galagd @speed-boop @lady-efriyeet

Death was like a glimpse of freedom.  His voice echoed in my head, telling me to rise, telling me to finish it.  I didn’t heed his calls.  Solar energy surged through me, replacing my frozen blood with warmth.  I rose up from the ground, once again in control of my own will.  I turned around and saw the shadow of Oryx in the mist.

“Vous ne me casseras pas!”*  I screamed at him.

I already have.

The moment he came through the mist, sword ready to strike us down, I threw every single fusion grenade I had in my arsenal at him.  Skinner and Maverick unloaded their rockets into him.  I picked up the knife that I used to stab myself with, ran up to him and jumped up, driving the knife through his chest.  I didn’t let go, I kept driving it deeper, and deeper, until almost the entire hilt of the blade was buried in his chest.  The blight around us disappeared and Oryx knocked me back and into one of the rocks.  My entire body jolted with pain and my vision became hazy.

I saw Oryx stumbling, like he was seriously injured.  Skinner and Maverick stood between me and him, weapons ready.  But Oryx… Oryx only reached for his sword and extracted a ball of Taken energy from it, held it in the air like a sacrifice, then slammed it into his chest.  His physical body started to decay and fade, but then he looked past Skinner and Maverick, directly at me.  He laughed, then disappeared into nothing.

I couldn’t help but to start laughing, even though I could barely move my muscles.  “I won… I won…”

Maverick ran over to me, but my vision was blurry and I could barely keep my eyes open.  He lifted my upper body into his arms and his hand pushed through my hair and pressed my head into his chest. I couldn’t hold back my tears and I started to break down.

“I know you,”  I murmured quietly.  “I know you…”

“Shh… shh… It’s okay…”

“He broke me…” I cried.  “I… I couldn’t stop it… I tried, I tried so hard to fight…” Maverick tried to quiet me and calm me down, but I had to tell them.  “He brought me… he brought me your mark…” I reached a shaking hand and pulled it out of my robes.  “And part of Skinner’s cloak… I… I thought you were dead…”  My Ghost flew over and started to heal my body and my wounds.  I could feel my strength returning to my body, but I didn’t want to move from his embrace.  “I failed you… I’m so sorry…”

“Shh… you didn’t fail anyone.  You still tried to fight.  You’re going to be okay.”

I looked at Maverick and Skinner, who had come over and crouched down beside us.  Tears still streamed from my eyes onto my cheeks.  “I wanna go home…”  

Maverick nodded and lifted me up, then turned to Skinner.  “This stays quiet.  We can’t tell the Vanguard what happened.  At least not all of the details.  If they ask, he showed us all our fears. Got it?”

“Trust me Mav, when we land in the Tower I don’t even want to talk to the Vanguard about what happened here.”  

The moment our Ghosts got a lock onto Maverick’s ship, we transmatted out of there.  The moment we were off the Dreadnaught, all comms came back to life.  

“This is attempt thirty-two to reach Fireteam Dauntless.  Fireteam, if you can read us, let us know you’re okay.”  It was Ikora.  

Maverick settled me down in one of the seats and helped me buckle in.  My body still felt weak and stiff, but at least my strength was back.  Before he went into the pilot’s seat to respond, he held tightly onto my hands and pressed a kiss to my forehead.  “We’re going to get you home so you can rest, so sit tight, okay?”  I didn’t want him to let go, so I squeezed his hands tighter.

You cannot escape me.

“Genesis are you ok?”  Skinner asked as he knelt down in front of me.

“What’s happening?”  Maverick asked.

You embrace death.  The Deep embraces death.

I shook my head and held my head in my hands, and curled my legs to my chest.  “I can still hear his voice,”  I whispered.  “Beckoning…”

The two of them exchanged a look.  “Eris… would know how to help…”  Skinner said. 

“Let’s just get home first,”  Maverick said firmly, dropping the subject.  “Skinner, get on the comms and contact the Vanguard.  Tell them we’re alright and on our way home.”

Skinner nodded then went up to the co-pilot seat.  “This is Skinner from Fireteam Dauntless.  We defeated Oryx in our world but he disappeared somewhere.  We’re on our way home.”

“It’s good to hear from you, Fireteam,”  Cayde said.  “Get home safely.  We’ll meet you in the Hanger when you enter the airspace.”

“Right…”

Maverick finally left me and went to his seat at the controls.  I hugged myself tightly.

“Guardian?” My Ghost floated in front of me.  I looked at her with tears still in my eyes.  “I… I’ve seen what he did to you.  Are you alright?”

I shook my head and gently held her in my hands.  “I’m just glad I sent you away,”  I mumbled quietly.  “If you were there with me, he would have Taken you, too.  And I wouldn’t be back here now.”

“I see memories of what happened to you. You said you can still hear him?  I… I don’t hear him, Genesis, are you sure he’s there?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek and nodded.  “It’s not like he’s saying the same thing.  He’s in my head…” 

“He can’t be in your head, Genesis,”  Dawn insisted.  “I can’t pick up any trace of him in your brain.”

“Ghost,”  I said to her sternly.  “Stop.  You don’t know what you’re talking about.  I know what I’m hearing.”  I wrapped my arms around my legs and held tightly onto the backs of my sleeves.  I tried to close my eyes and sleep, but every time I did I saw flashes of Oryx, of the Taken, of the corrupted sword in my hand, the taken energy in Oryx’s fist.  Every time I had to open my eyes again to remind myself that I wasn’t in that darkness anymore.  But every time Maverick turned back to check on me, I closed my eyes and feigned sleep, and I endured the nightmares behind my eyelids until he looked away.

“She’s strong,”  Skinner murmured.  I opened my eyes a tiny bit, just enough to keep myself awake to eavesdrop, but not enough to where they thought I was awake.  I peered at the two of them through my eyelashes

“I know,”  Maverick sighed.  “But she’s not as strong as you and I.”

“And she will recover.”

“It might take a while, but yeah…  I know…”

“She will need your help, Mav,” the Hunter added.  “I don’t care what Vanguard protocol is.  Just… stay by her side until we figure out what the hell went wrong.  Why didn’t we kill him?  Why did he just let us go?  This doesn’t add up and you know it.”

“I know that!”  Maverick hissed quietly.  He was clearly angry about the way things went.  “There’s too many questions and not enough answers.  For now…”  Maverick looked at me over his shoulder as we entered Earth’s orbit.  “For now I just want to keep her safe and let her sleep.”

The two of them fell silent again as we entered the Tower airspace.  Maverick announced our arrival and requested a landing pad.  Even Amanda sounded relieved to hear we were back safely. 

When we landed, Maverick came back to me as Skinner got ready to get off.  He gently held my hands until I turned my focus to him.  "Storm, I know you're tired, but you need to walk out of here.  If the Vanguard finds out what happened to you, they will absolutely not let you be a Guardian anymore.  Without a question.  It would be like total lockdown, but permanent.”  

My eyes filled with tears.  Being a Guardian was the only thing getting me through this mess right now.  “I know,”  I whispered softly.  “There’s just so many images I can’t get out of my head.”

“Angel, please,”  Maverick pleaded.  “We just have to get through the meeting with the Vanguard, and then we can go home.  Can you do that?”

I took a shaky breath, but nodded.  “I-I think so.  I can try.”  Maverick placed a hand on my elbow and helped me stand.  We transmatted out of the ship and into the Hanger, where the Vanguard were waiting for us.  Skinner was already with them, but he hadn’t said a word to the Vanguard.  His arms were crossed and he was tapping his foot with his impatience and nerves.

I saw Eris stare at all of us.  Her back straightened a bit and her shoulders went rigid.

She knew.

“How’d the mission go?”  Zavala asked the group of us immediately, the moment we approached them.

“Wow, okay, no chill,” Maverick said bitterly.  “But anyways that is the last time I want to fight a Hive King or God for a long time.”

“What do you mean Maverick?”  Ikora asked.

“Do you know what it's like to have a monster like that poke and probe your mind for your fear, and then making them a reality? Not very fun. But other than, that the mission was a success.”

They all stared at us for a moment before Zavala broke the silence.  “I believe I'll see an after action report by tomorrow correct?”

“Yeah sure Big Blue whatever you want,” he said. 

He gave Mav a nod and they all walked away, except for Eris.  She approached us, her head turned about to scan her surroundings, and she spoke with heavy concern.  “I feel his presence, who is it?  Who let him in?”

The three of us felt silent.  I could feel Maverick’s grip on my hand tighten.  Even still, I could hear his voice.  I could hear his whispers.  I closed my eyes to fight back tears.  

“It's… Storm.  She was Taken, I think, for a brief moment,”  Maverick said, probably louder than he should have.

Eris held up a hand to silence him, she looked around the Hanger once more, and then back to us.

“Too many wondering ears. Come we will go somewhere more… secluded.”  She motioned for us to follow her.  We followed her out of the Hanger into the Tower Plaza past the Postmaster and up some stairs.  People rarely went up here so it was the most secluded place in the Tower. 

“You were Taken?!”  She exclaimed once we were far out of earshot.  I almost winced at the harsh tone in her voice, but I knew it was from shock.  “How did you break Oryx's hold on your will?”

I looked at Maverick nervously, but he nodded anyway.  Eris had to know, even if I didn't want to recount everything that happened.  “Oryx separated us one by one to try and break our wills.  I gave Skinner my Ghost before he came for me.  And after he…  took me, he tried to make me kill them.  They brought me back.  They helped me remember who I was, who they were, and keep a grip on the little bit of Light I had left.  Oryx gave me a knife imbued with Taken energy and I…  I used that knife to kill myself and used the Light my Ghost gave back to me to activate my radiance.  My light must have broken his hold on my Will, but he’s still there.”

“What are you hearing, Guardian?  What are the voices telling you?” 

I looked away and hugged myself tightly.  Even Eris, with her prodding questions, made me feel uncomfortable.  But she’s the expert on the Hive, if anyone knew how to explain this, it was her.  “I hear… whispers. Oryx telling me about the Deep, about death, that I can’t escape his reach. Every time I close my eyes, I have these… visions of what happened on the Dreadnaught.”  I looked back at Eris. “I’m trying so hard, but I can’t block him out. He’s there, he’s still in my head… like fingers pressing on my consciousness.”

“But your connection with your fireteam together with your Light broke most of his hold.  But to rid your mind of the Taken King you must kill him, in his Throne World.  So soon you will return and bring down the King.  And without a leader the Taken should wither."

“Do we even know where he is?”  Skinner interrupted.  “We can’t kill him if we can’t find his throne, right?”

“The Hidden and I will find him.  You must prepare your fireteam.  And Guardian,”  Eris turned me, “do not heed his calls, and fight his voices.   He can only win if you let him in.”  Eris nodded her head to each of us, then walked away.  I walked over to the railings that overlooked the land below.  I placed my hands on the rails and took a few deep breaths.  I shut my eyes tightly.

You will try to hide…

“Storm…” Skinner walked over to me.  “Are you alright?”

You will try to run…

“No,” I croaked out.  Every time he spoke my head felt like it was being ripped open and I got a splitting headache.  I clutched so tightly onto the metal that my knuckles turned white.

But I will always find you.

“You’re hearing him again, aren’t you?”  Maverick said as he came over to my side.  He placed his hand on my shoulder.  I could only nod in response. Maverick placed his hands over mine and held on tightly.  “Storm, listen to me,” he said firmly.  I opened my eyes, on the verge of tears, and looked at him.  “He cannot reach you here.  We won’t let him hurt you again, okay?”

I could only give Maverick a small, tentative nod.  As much as I wanted to believe him, getting used to these voices was difficult.

“Well… I’m going to get a drink,”  Skinner said.  “Storm, you should go home and rest.  And Mav… remember what we talked about.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Skinner left the Tower and we stayed on the balcony in silence.  I didn’t want to move.  The air was crisp and cold with the coming winter.  Clouds were rolling in, replacing the reds and yellows of the setting sun with the shadow of darkness.

“Come on, Angel,”  Maverick said softly as he lifted my frozen hands from the cold railing.  “Let’s go home.”

---translations--

* You will not break me!

[moiralovestowrite]

A Titan’s Gamble Chapter 6

Hawthorne’s eyes were full of betrayal, The woman had placed her trust in Zavala, in the Vanguard, and this is what she got in return? The entire farm was covered in wounded Guardian’s without ghosts, dying civilians and smashed up Exo’s. This wasn’t the deal. A part of the woman thought that the City would be her final home. A place she could finally be at peace. Why did this happen? The man she decided to place her trust in, he was gone now, leaving an empty spot in her soul. Zavala had been a turning point in Hawthorne’s life, she finally felt as if she had a new purpose but now? That was all slipping away. At least Shaxx got most people here and Ikora was doing her best to heal everyone. Things couldn’t get any worse could they? Holliday’s eyes gazed up into the sky as she waited. Where was Shaxx and Ryan? Were they okay? They should be here by now right? The brilliant pilot twitched, her finger nails digging into her skin. A part of her wanted to fly right back to the Tower and make sure that they were alright but Holliday knew she couldn’t. That would risk too much. Like Hawthorne, Zavala had changed her life. All of this was almost too much, she needed her hero’s right now. Devrim jogged over to Hawthorne’s side and gently grabbed the woman’s arm. The man could see the distress printed all over her face. “I know you already thought of this my dear but this place isn’t safe.” The older gentlemen said softly. It was true. Zavala knew about the farm and it was probably going to be his first place to strike. He was smarter with strategies than any of them were. Where was Cayde when you needed him? The Exo would know exactly what to do. “We need people mobile before we can do anything Dev. How many days can we last here?” The woman asked quietly, attempting not to alert anyone. “Not even a day. We need to move, quickly.” “But where do we even go?” Ikora’s form suddenly entered the picture as the wounded Warlock spoke. “We don’t go anywhere. We wait.” Hawthorne and Devrim quickly turned to meet the powerful Warlock’s gaze. Was she serious? They had little to no supplies and she wanted them to wait? “You’re joking, right?” The Clan Steward whispered. Ikora spoke in a hushed tone. “We need to, We still haven’t heard from Ryan or Lord Shaxx-” Hawthorne quickly interrupted the Vanguard Warlock. “Then isn’t safe to assume that they’re gone? We need to think about our people, not our lost.” Devrim quickly placed a hand on the brunette’s shoulder and gave Hawthorne a smile. She had grown so much. “You’re right. But we can’t protect our people without them. I know Ryan very well. He’ll have a plan.” “For everyone’s sake I hope you’re right.”

“AHH FUCK, FUCK!” Ryan’s pained voice filled the Derelict as he crumpled onto the floor. The Darkness that had been shot into him started to overtake the Titan, curling through his inside’s and reaching for his mind. “Shit, SHIT!” Moira’s voice was frantic as she attempted to figure out what to do. She had no choice, she had to try and absorb the Dark out of him. If she could do it with motes, she could do it with Guardian’s right? Right?! “Okay just-just hold on!” The woman cried as she dropped to her knees and placed her hands upon Ryan’s gaping wound. “Ryan! It’ll be okay!” Yogi said in the most calm tone he could muster, the calm was a lie however. The ghost was terrified that he was about to lose his only friend. Yogi’s voice was practically screaming as he watched his Guardian struggle in pain. He couldn’t do this, He needed Ryan by his side. Drifter was quick to prop Ryan up, the man’s form pressed against the Titan’s back as he shoved him forward, closer to his second in command. Drifter gave Moira a nod, she could do this. The rouge lightbearer knew she could. She had to. “If yer gonna do something kid, Do It Now!” With a deep breath, Moira’s eyes closed. The woman was so nervous. She had never done anything like this before. The only Darkness she ever dared to even touch was the ones from the motes Drifter created. Slowly exhaling, the brunette began to focus. Ever so slowly the darkness began to crawl out of the man, answering the woman’s strange call. It was like her body was singing to it. The black liquid curled around the woman’s fingers and wrists, reaching up her arms as it finally left all of Ryan’s form.  As the last bit of Darkness was pulled from Ryan, the man let out a gasped breath before crawling back as fast as he could, His form shoved away from Drifter as his hands shook and his back crashed onto the hard flooring. Drifter was quick to let go of the Titan but even faster to check on his Second in Command. Moira’s closed eyes tensed as she absorbed the Darkness through her skin. It hurt so badly, a feeling she had never had before when she ate Darkness. It was so cold, so empty, but the pain was gone in a matter of seconds. So was her energy however. The woman let out soft pants as her hands pressed against the floor. A drop of sweat landed on the steel. “Ryan!” Yogi squealed before he gently rubbed up against his guardian’s face. The Titan was speechless, attempting to process what had just happened. It felt like his mind was going to melt, as if a hand reached straight into his brain and started pulling strings. He saw something or rather...someone? The form was shadow like, he couldn’t make out the figure but it was trying to say something to him. The moment Moira pulled the Darkness out of him, the figure vanished. Was he okay now?  With a weak smile, the Titan began to sit up, placing a hand upon the top of his ghost’s head and gave it a gentle rub. “Hey bubby…” At least the man still had Yogi. “You okay Titan?” Moira asked as Drifter helped the woman to her feet. Moira gave Drifter a kind smile before she walked over to Ryan and extended her hand out to him. The Titan took her hand, welcoming the help up to his feet. “You saved me.” The man stated, slightly shocked that she had. “I did.” The woman stated back, giving Ryan a calm smile. “Now, are you good?” Ryan nodded as he released the woman’s hand. “Yeah I-I feel okay.” Moira let out a relieved sigh. “Thank whatever god’s out there. I didn’t think that would actually work.” The brunette smirked, causing Ryan’s eyes to widen, “Oh that’s cool, no it’s fine, I’ll just be your test subject.” Ryan growled out as his arms crossed his chest. Moira laughed as she playfully punched the Titan’s shoulder. “Hey it worked though right?” The Titan rolled his eyes and let a small smile escape his lips. “Sure. You win.” The woman laughed once more and turned her attention to Drifter. The man was smiling as he watched the two interact. A part of Drifter hoped that this would become the new normal. Moira laughing and making jokes, Ryan staying on the Derelict. The two were going to be amazing friends. He could already sense it. That is, if Ryan got over his fear of the Darkness. The Titan would be amazing for his crew.  “Boss man? Where do we go now?” The brunette asked softly, gazing into her boss’s eyes. Drifter thought for a moment as he met Moira’s gaze. The man wanted nothing more than some alone time with her, his heart had been pounding in his chest since the kiss on the Tower, all he wanted to do was tell her how he felt, all his emotions, everything. He wanted to finally open up after thousands of years. Moira had been there, pounding and breaking down his walls since day one. It was time for him to finally let her in. It was freeing, knowing that he could. Unfortunately now wasn’t the time for that. “You said the farm, right kid?” Drifter reluctantly removed his gaze from Moira and stared at the Titan. Ryan nodded, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, they said they were taking everyone there.” Drifter’s head tilted to the side as he scratched his beard. If they went to the Farm it could mean trouble. Zavala was sure to attack that place soon once he healed up, who knows what kind of army he has built up now? But, if he was alongside a hero, helping others to a safer place then he could be put on Ikora’s nice list. A thing that would certainly pay off in the future. Not to mention, he still needed Ryan to help him with cleaning up the shore. Spider didn’t care about delays, the job needed to be done. Drifter needed that power supply. Moira smirked as she watched her boss deep in thought. She loved watching him ponder. He was clever, crafty. It was an amazing experience to be apart of it. Ryan thought otherwise as he tapped his foot impatiently. “So what’s going on, are we going to the Farm or what?” The Titan interrupted Drifter’s thought process causing Moira to let out a small laugh. The rouge shot Ryan a look before he turned to the cockpit of the ship. “Alright. Let’s get to the farm.”  

It took only a matter of minutes for the group to transport onto the familiar land. The moment Ryan’s feet touched the ground, a part of the man felt at home. The Farm was a beautiful place, a spot where he felt safe. It had been ages since he last visited which was his own fault. Ryan always told himself he was far too busy with the Vanguard to pop down. A lie, the man was always worried that if he came down here again he would never return to the Tower. Hawthorne was the first to spot the group, relief flew over the woman’s form as she quickly hopped down from her perch and ran towards them. “Thank the Traveler…” She huffed as she grabbed Ryan by the arm and pulled the Titan into a hug. Ryan smiled, hugging the woman back just as tightly. Hawthorne had become a close pal since the Red War. Cayde would normally bring her along on missions and the two grew close as time passed. She didn’t care about rules, which was refreshing to the Titan. She made terrible jokes and she had her priorities straight. Hawthorne knew who she was. It was nice.  Moira smiled, watching the two interact. The woman had her replacement snake mask on and was close to Drifter’s side. Even if they were in the middle of a disaster, she didn’t want to risk anyone remembering her face. It was safer this way for everyone, especially Drifter. The rouge lightbearer smirked as he looked down at the woman by his side. Gently, his hand curled around her fingers, giving them a squeeze. Moira’s entire face turned red along with her ears. She let out the softest squeak before she slowly inched closer to her boss’s form, resting her head on his upper arm. Drifter’s cheeks heated up as a proud smile grew on his lips. “Cocky bastard.” Moira muttered causing the man to laugh victoriously. Devrim and Ikora were quick to follow in Hawthorne’s footsteps once they saw the woman running. The group was thrilled and relieved to see Ryan alive and unaffected by Zavala’s attack. “Where have you been?!” Hawthorne snarled out as she ripped away from Ryan’s form and gave the man a smack on the shoulder. “Hey ow!” The Titan teased, causing Devrim to chuckle. “I needed to regroup. Is everyone safe here? How long do we have?” Ryan threw out questions fast causing Ikora to let out a sigh. The Warlock gazed upon the hurting people. There was no where to go and it was only going to be a matter of time before Zavala’s army came knocking. “Not long at all I’m afraid.” The older gentleman said softly, meeting the Titan’s gaze. “We have little to no supplies and we need to move. We have nowhere to go however.” Moira’s eyes widened as she looked up at Drifter, wondering if he was thinking what she thought he was. “Shit...with the Tower off limits, where can we go?” Ryan muttered as he went deep into thought. There had to be a place somewhere right? Ikora let out another sigh as she turned her gaze towards Drifter and the strange woman. “Glad to know you’re alright.” She said in a kind tone, giving Drifter a clearly fake smile. The man countered with an equally fake grin. Moira removed herself from Drifter grasp, straightening her back and placing her hands by her sides. She was like a solider, always ready to protect what was most important. “Well that just warms this old heart of mine. Lucky enough, I know a place.” The man purred as he began to walk towards Ikora, Moira in tow. Hawthorne and Devrim stared at the con man, aware of his crimes and how he was not the man of trust he claimed to be. “They owe me a favor. Besides, Zavala losin his mind is gonna cause everyone problems. Might as well get an army of our own.” Ikora’s eyes hardened as she challenged the man’s gaze “And where do you suggest we go?”  “I’m sure you’ve heard of it. The Dreaming City?” Ikora’s eyes widened as the words left the man’s lips. The dreaming city? He had to be joking, Guardian’s were far from welcome there. “Thing is, we gotta contact someone first.” Hawthorne turned to face Ryan, her face said it all. Was this man to be trusted? Unfortunately they had to. Drifter was all they had right now and the damn smug bastard knew it. He was gonna use this to his advantage, Ryan knew it. A part of the Titan admired him though. Drifter was damn smart, almost as smart as Ikora. He was sly, charming. He knew how to put things in his favor. “Then contact them.” Ikora stated. She was no longer playing around. Every second passing was time for Zavala to regroup. “Alright sister. Remember, you agreed to this.” The man teased as he turned, beginning to walk over to whatever tech the escaping people of the city had been able to salvage. Drifter wouldn’t be able to get a hold of his contact without getting on an untraceable line. Petra, the Queen’s Wrath, owed him a big favor. Now seemed like the perfect time for her to repay him. “We’re going to regret this.” Devrim stated, letting out a soft huff. Hawthorne crossed her arms against her chest, glaring at the ground. “Great, the shadiest man ever survives but we lose all the Titan’s. That’s a GREAT deal.”  Moira smirked and gazed up at Ryan. She knew what the boss was doing, who he was calling. It would be interesting to see if the Queen’s Wrath would agree to help. There was practically a war going on in the City, how would he sell this? A part of the woman wanted to go listen in, see how he charmed his way to victory but another part of her didn’t want to let these people out of her eye sight. She trusted none of them, well...besides Ryan. Ikora had made it very clear she would destroy Drifter if she could.  The Titan turned and gave Moira a look. She knew Drifter better than anyone else. Ryan needed a little bit of hope right now. A smile, a gesture, anything to let him know that they were gonna be okay. Moira gently grabbed Ryan’s forearm and gave it a squeeze. A good enough sign for him. With that the Titan turned to Ikora, Hawthorne and Devrim. “Let’s get these people ready.” Ikora nodded, beginning to walk over to the Guardian’s while Devrim turned to help the lightless who had been wounded. Hawthorne however had not moved. The woman stared into Ryan’s eyes, watching. Something about the man had changed and she wasn’t sure she liked it. It was like his light had dimmed. “Ryan. You really trust this guy?” The woman tested. Ryan took a deep breath and thought. After everything, Drifter and Moira had saved his life. They at least earned a bit of his trust, not all of it, but a tiny portion. “Unfortunately yeah...yeah I do. Now please, let’s get these people moving.” Hawthorne was unconvinced but walked alongside Ryan as they moved towards the supply shed, packing what could be of use. Moira watched as the group dissipated, beginning her walk over to the boss. Time to be heroes.

[dracwife]

it's 4am and im yearning don't look at me ,, i get sappy sometimes ok

If you were to ask Fenryr Theyj'a what his favorite part of Io was, well he'd likely be obligated to respond that it was one Asher Mir, considering the nature of their relationship. If you were to ask him his second favorite part of Io was, he'd likely look rather longingly towards the horizon, and express his sadness that the planet's beauty had been taken so forcefully by the constant warring as of late. His third, of course, would be the springs that dotted said landscape, and the relaxation and comfort that he'd come to associate with them.

Oh how he longed to be there now. Io had, after everything, become his new home. It was a rare occurrence - Guardians finding something akin to domesticity. It was a sense of belonging, and left Fenryr wondering so little of his past life that he almost forgot about it entirely and looked forward only to the future he was building to now.

He had been gone far too long, and had only a vague notion of when he'd be back. While he loved the company of his Ghost, it hardly compared in both nature and scale to being in the mere presence of Asher's personality.

In short, Fenryr missed him dearly. And he could only assume Asher felt the same, judging by the rather long, rambling transmission he was receiving at that moment. While he duly enjoyed hearing the Fragmented Researcher's rather grating, whiny voice (which, Fenryr reasoned with himself that he was certainly allowed to think because he loved Asher so excessively in either case) it would likely distract him from his mission and cause him yet another wave of sadness and yearning - he could only imagine Asher's disgusted groan at the phrase, sarcastically commenting on "How...endearing" the thought was - that he felt he did not need at that moment. He opted for a transcription instead. He found himself reading it bit by bit as he punched in the coordinates for Nessus, realizing just how far it was from Io. Apparently Asher had caught wind of the mission as well, likely from Ikora Rey after much nagging, as Fenryr began reading less of Asher's scientific ramblings that he tried so hard to at least pretend to understand and more of Asher's complaints about being alone on the Vex-infested planet they now called home, and just how far it was from the occupancy of the Exodus Black.

And I hear they have you across the galaxy again. I think I shall speak with the Vanguard about how frequently I find myself alone here, without your company. Though I suppose I shall tell them it is the lack of protection that frustrates me, that seems more a concern of theirs; I assume that subtly adding the fact that the Vex are growing restless here may change their priorities and, I hope, their insistence on dragging you away to some Hive-ridden planet every free moment you have.

The research is slowed without you to help, of course, but going well nonetheless. I can only assume your general lack of understanding of my work means you also understood nearly nothing I may have commented on earlier, but know that I am content with my progress since you've been gone. I'm not sure how much closer I am to the answer, but as of late I can feel myself beginning to believe that any progress, even if it is minor, is worth celebration - a skill that I believe you have taught me for the better…

I don't wish to worry you, but you are the only one I would dream of telling this: I fear I am growing worse with every passing day. I cannot say this for sure, but...My intuition tells me it won't be long before what little control I have left of my arm is completely gone. 

As much disdain as I may hold for the Pity Parties people tend to throw themselves, perhaps this is a point I will bring up with Ikora privately. For my own wellbeing, and to cure this impeccably potent feeling of...Loneliness, I wish to have you here again. 

In addition, I have decided that I shall concede with the idea that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Every day that you are not with me again I find myself growing more distracted in my downtime. Eating alone is no longer time to brainstorm, and lying alone does not help me theorize anymore. Instead, I am feeling rather upset that you are not with me, and find my mind wandering to the many things we could have been doing had you been there. I have had no less than three full hypothetical conversations with myself and the you that isn't here in the past forty-eight hours. I'm not sure if I should classify this new habit of mine as a nuisance, or a sign. I fear what it may say about me if it is the latter. You have changed me for the better, there is no doubt, but…

I'm afraid. My emotions distract from my work. I know this well, and yet I do not seem to care. My work should be my top priority, but alas my mind wanders to your touch, the sound of your voice, the comfort of your heartbeat every waking moment. I'm unsure if it is the consequence of...Such strong emotions that I feel, or rather my mind's response to what little progress I have made to save myself and therefore stand facing an inevitable death.

I will not lose hope yet. I learn more every day. There were times I would believe my efforts were in vain, and pondered if trying at all was a worthwhile use of my time. Now I strive for even the smallest victories, and celebrate them - to myself, of course - as I would a breakthrough. 

I do this because I believe I wish to try all I can now. For you.

I await my Knight's return to me.

By the time Fenryr had read through it all, he had barely reached Nessus' orbit. With a new sense of urgency, he prepared himself for the mission at hand. He wished this to be as easy and quick as Zavala had promised.

For he too missed his Gensym Scribe, and wanted nothing more then but to return to him again.

[the-gunslock]

Amanda 3 - Hammer

Third canon-deviant fic about Amanda Holliday and her journey to being greater, from a mini-series of four.

"This one would be pret-tyyy cool…"

The burnt-blonde Shipwright scrolls through the 'Collections' of Exotics Guardians found in their journeys, analyzing their perks as she patiently waits to be called inside the most envied library in the City.

For some seconds, her emerald eyes fall on a pair of knightly silver Gauntlets that could be what she looks for. She ‘hmm’s to herself for a second, trying on some shaders, and nods in approval.

"Amanda, let's go."

Her head moves to pay attention to the Warlock that has just arrived at her usual spot at the Bazaar, greeting her with a nod as she stows her tablet away and is transmatted into the library. She makes a mental note of the name ‘Stronghold’. Shaxx would probably appreciate her dedication to swordplay.

Other pieces like Fr0st-EE5 and Transversive Steps, which do not require Light usage, would also benefit her while she fought. Good to know, good to know. So many loopholes to be exploited.

Ikora Rey had devoted the day to silent studying and rewriting of her books, still not completely updated after the Traveler’s awakening in recent times. In order to focus better, she does most of it quietly and alone in the library, save for the Hidden that appear to report to her on occasion. Today was an exception, for she allowed the Tower’s Shipwright to keep her company under the pretension that she wanted to learn, and there was no better teacher for that than Ikora.

Ikora’s library has dim, yellow lighting and a rustic aesthetic, with bookshelves and flooring made of dark wood covered with blue and white tapestry. The overall layout of the place was circular, the center having her desk and simple chairs and couches disposed about.

"So, Amanda." Ikora begins, making herself comfortable at the table and suggesting Amanda to do the same, across from her. "What do you seek?"

Amanda quietly taps her fingertips at the table, fidgeting as she tries to formulate a good reason.

"I wanna learn how to… to fight. Like y'all Guardians do."

Ikora doesn’t turn her head, but smiles.

“Is that so?”

“Uh… yeah?”

Ikora gives a chuckle as she finishes rewriting a page.

“I think not.”

“...Why not?”

Not faltering, Ikora turns her head to face her friend as she hovers her hand above the book. “Because if you wanted to learn how to fight, you would have asked Zavala. And, if the words I received are true... you already did.”

Amanda doesn’t have an answer to that, only looking at the desk and pressing her lips together, the inquietude only building up. She observes Ikora using an emanation of Solar heat to dry the ink on the pages.

“Ikora, I… want to be a Guardian. I thought I could ask you to teach me how to think like one.”

As the Warlock turns to the book again, she turns a page and looks at a previous version of the book, also spread open on another part of the table, for reference. “Okay. And why aren’t you?”

She is caught off-guard by this question. She struggles to let out her answer, and the next sentence comes out a bit more condescending than she’d hoped.

“Because I’m not a Lightbearer?” Amanda replies as if it was something obvious.

“During the Red War, we weren’t either.” Ikora says as she starts writing once more. “And I went through the same dilemma. I was lost. I looked to the ashes emanating from the City, and vowed… never again. And since I had nowhere left to go, I found myself on Io, in search for answers. As time passes me by, I realized I was left without answers, without Light, without my team... without anything to hold on to.”

“And then?”

“A Guardian found me. One of those who had made the pilgrimage to the Shard of the Traveler and recovered their Light. They could have refused, but they didn’t. They could have quit the fight, but even if they knew they were going to die, they didn’t. And their very presence reminded me that, while the terms are, indeed, very associable to the outside observer, they are not the same.”

The Shipwright listens intently as Ikora recounts her tale. There were many angles to this. Most, she didn’t consider. Multiple viewpoints are a virtue Guardians must possess.

“It took me some introspection and some... unprecedented incidents, for me to believe that I am more than just my Light, and in being greater than the Light, protecting it and the people who live through its influence is what made me who I am. So, as long as you strive to perfect yourself, you’ll always be one."

Ikora eyes her friend without turning her head this time. Her eyes are amiable, as fierce as they looked.

"A Guardian, Lightbearer or not... is always a Guardian.”

The Warlock delivered each part of that sentence in a very light, but thorough manner, a way that Amanda didn’t even think was possible. It was a nail she still had to hammer, that Guardians are more than just their Light.

During the Red War, Amanda had argued with Zavala after the Traveler was imprisoned and the Light lost. “There are thousands of people like me stranded down there in the City", she had said; “We're all the same now, Holliday. The Light is gone.” She was too angry to realize at the time, but looking back, she realizes she had taken the Guardianship for granted.

While she still didn’t like having to obey Zavala and leave citizens to die, it was paying off, in a way. Everything they did, they did for mankind. And it was beginning to thrive again, the best they could. She could feel it, even if her mission was far from over and new threats were still bound to come.

With a deep breath, she promises to face them gladly.

"Thank you, Ikora." The Shipwright says, eliciting a smile and a deep nod from the Vanguard that was still focused on writing the page.

Amanda pulls out her sketchbook and starts drawing over a sketch of herself. But before she continues, she has an idea for the final part of the 'secret-unnamed-project'.

"Can I, ah, look around for a book?”

“Do you need help with anything?”

“Yeah, actually. Wanna know where the name ‘Leviathan’ comes from.”

Ikora pulls up her own tablet, doing a query search for the word on the archive. It narrows down to multiple editions of a religious book from the old world, called ‘Bible’. Taking a break from writing, she hovers over to a particular section of the library, taking an intricate, gold-foil crafted book, meticulously turning its pages to where the query told her. “Job 41:1–34”, it said. She floats back to Amanda, laying the open book in front of her, before going back to her own seat.

She devours the verses, at first barely making heads or tails of what was on the pages. 'Why'd people back in the day write so weird?' She thought to herself. But eventually she managed to understand what it was about, and suddenly the name of Calus' ship made much more sense.

"Did you gather something new, my friend?"

Amanda recaps in her mind, making sure to try not to miss anything.

"Right, so- uh...” Amanda begins to explain her thoughts, trying not to let anything pass her by. “There was this man named Job, whose faith in this god couldn't be waived. In this part, the god is tryna teach Job how questioning a powerful being is futile by presenting him beasts so powerful that only he can control, one a them being a sea monster called, you guessed it, the Leviathan."

"How awfully appropriate."

"Yep. Apparently there were two beasts, a sea one, and a... land one."

Realization came into Amanda's mind as a name for her project finally snuck through her hands and into the paper.

"Reminds me of the World Serpent..." She adds nonchalantly, having doing some reading on the Edda in her free time back at Hiver’s place.

Ikora finally perks up from her book, stretching her writing hand. "You've been doing some homework."

"Hard not to, when you date a Warlock."

"And you are going to tell them about this… when?"

The one question Amanda dreaded, and it shows. Her 'Lightless Guardian' idea was nothing short of life-threatening, it's amazing she's got this far without being stopped.

Amanda had survived her whole life on the road, fighting off Fallen and hiding with hers and other families, but she would never, ever get rid of the pain of losing them. She survived and is happier than she's ever been, even if it's not a perfect life. Now, she was Hiver's family, and cannot bear the image of her lover having to go through the same — because of her own incompetence, nonetheless.

There was no telling how Hiver would react, the woman is already being a pile of anxieties, but of one thing she was sure.

It wouldn't be pretty.

“I don’t... know.“

"I can help if you'd like. But remember that this is your responsibility — and your burden."

She nods with a nervous face and gives a deep sigh.

“I’ll think of something. Can you take me back to the Tower?”

“Yes. And Amanda?”

“Yes?”

“Congratulations on finding love. Hold on to it. It is powerful.”

As nervous as she is, she nods smiling.

“Ophiuchus?” Ikora says to no one. Her Ghost, white and red and with spiking protrusions on the back of his shell, appears in the air next to her shoulder.

“One second.” He replies, spinning.

With a flash, Amanda is back at the Tower’s bazaar. Eyeing the drawing she has just finished, she runs to the Courtyard, in search of a person who could help her make it look much better.

Trying to ignore the built-up tension, she runs.

The Awoken woman stationed at the Tower Courtyard is, as usual, cleaning up dust and reorganizing her inventory, because it’s not home yet, but it would be. Then she hears a familiar voice calling to her.

“Tess!”

“Oh! Hello, Amanda. What can I do for you today?” Tess greets the Shipwright, assuming her usual hands-behind-back posture and giving her usual, welcoming smile.

“See, I got a lil’ project o’ my own, and wanted an expert’s opinion on how ta make it look the sharpest it can.”

Amanda presents the sketchbook with her sketch to Tess, who analyzes it meticulously.

It’s a suit of armor. Titan armor, to be more precise.

“Gothic knight inspiration… baroque decor… exquisite. Practical, but carries a lot of elegance. This looks incredible. Also, you draw extraordinarily well.”

“Thank you,” The Shipwright says, blushing. “But it lacks color. What would ya say works?”

“Excuse me.“

Tess takes the notebook into what appears to be a scanner, converting Amanda’s drawing into a digital projection that can easily be colored, and bringing it to the desk where they both could see it.

“Right, in my opinion the ornaments and trim should definitely be gold.” She says, quickly selecting the decorative parts of the plates and changing their colors to a light golden color. “The style reminds me of Gjallarhorn and the old Iron Lords’ armor. Maybe we can make it a bit more orange…”

“Would black fit with it, maybe?”

She changes the main plate colors to black. Tess and Amanda look at each other in disapproval.

“How about…” Tess changes the color to a deep blue.

“Can you try dark gray?” Amanda asks, and Tess obeys. However, it still seems to not fit, and they experiment with a midpoint between blue and gray.

“What do you think?”

“I like it.”

“Me too.”

Amanda scratches her nose, taking some time to think. The girls mix and match palettes for a while until finding one that fits the armor well.

Dark gray plates with crimson details, gold ornaments, and a white, gold-trimmed mark.

“Whew… Thank you, Tess. Anything I can do to repay ya?”

“The pleasure is mine. Although if you have some Silver on you…” Tess says, smiling smugly. “Just kidding.”

“My girlfriend does. She’ll probably come by again, she wants that duster you’re selling. Says she wants to look like a cowgirl.”

Tess laughs at this, eliciting a grin from Amanda, who picks her sketchbook and transfers the colored illustration file from the Awoken vendor to her own tablet, almost walking off and ready to send it to Crux/Lomar for forging.

“Oh, Amanda.”

“Yeah?” She turns back to face Tess.

“Does it have a name?” She asks in genuine curiosity.

Amanda smiles contagiously in pride, remembering what she read from the Bible in Ikora’s library. She had the perfect name for her project, given what was going down on the System — and how she’d fight it, if need be.

“The Behemoth.”

[datarevived]

   -- Ⅰ : ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ ᴄɪᴛʏ

The Last City.

The final bastion of humanity.

Surely, it was a sight to behold. 

Mouth parted in a quiet gasp as the ship flew across the staggering city beneath, the Awoken sat eagerly against the window as various colors and sounds ignited to their surroundings. The smells of fuel, surprisingly becoming more and more masked by other scents -- food? Firewood? As ricochet bullets and fireworks cracked beyond that of ones' aircraft jets, a distant training grounds that could be spotted below sporting several teams of Guardians who seemed to be going at it fist to fist. 

Even in the mist of war, it seemed those who strove to survive were none short on their livelihood.

The Tower which sat in the distance, its' mass quickly becoming larger by the moment, had also been decored in life. Ample bodies walking about the perimeter, with armed guards treated at every corner. Guardians -- she knew these for fact, based on the various armor and attire verses that of the civilians, seemed endless. Those presently docking their own crafts, while those who had objectives departed with haste. She could feel her seat shake at each revel of ones' hyperjump, their ships cracking the sounds of wind as they blasted off.

    " Welcome to the Tower, “ a mans' voice greeted. One of the Hunter's from the patrol unit that had helped her out of the sinkhole, his coated frame standing in the doorway of the pilot pit. His features, unknown to her ability as he dawned in thick fabric and armor head to toe - leaving his voice in a set reverb to ones' helmet. " You ready? "

    " Mm..mhm. "

As soon as bay doors began to crack, the suction of air catch her off guard as she stumbled back a moment. The setting sun illuminating the scene in a beautiful glow, the immediate noise of people flooding into her ears. Already, she could count over four discussions going on - automatize tones that belonged to machine, tinier voices that belonged to plenty a Ghost -- inquiries to none in particular, but any who would listen or required the necessary help to do so. 

It was so... alive. 

Almost overwhelming in a sense, the scenic overlay causing her head to dizzy once more. Was it natural for all Guardians to start off so unbalanced? She'd have to ask, once getting more comfortable with the place. 

The Hunter on standby was waiting at the bottom of the airlock, giving the Awoken a moment before he waves a gentle hand for her to follow. Leading her through the open roof of the Tower, stairs downward into more secluded life. At one point, by-passing what could have been used as a garden, all left with a single tree that seem to bloom in the center of the small courtyard. As robot-esq humanoids sat along the floors, tinkering with their own guns and devices - others merely stood in place, sweeping a broom back and forth.

Yet there was one building in particular that caught her attention as they walked. Perhaps due to the scent, or mayhaps the loudness of ones' patrons - a small hole-in-the-wall shop that served hand-crafted noodles by the bowl. Its' stall nearly cramped from occupation as several people sat and stood around the  countertop, laughing about their stories and ringing up another round of beverage. The smells of the broth and multiple spices trapping her nose like some sort of chain, her throat watering in brief nostalgia before picking up her feet to gain ground with the other. 

" I'd recommend it, " the Hunter chuckled, turning a view over his shoulder as panicked footsteps tracked to his backside. " S'good. Even if it is a hobby now n' days. "

This time, he leads her to another set of stairs. Upward and fairly brief -- leading to a balcony in which a woman presently stood. A makeshift bird stand rested next to her arm, with massive hawk perched in view as it turned its' attention to the approaching duo. A click of its' beak in greeting as the woman turned in welcome.

" Back so soon Hunter? Don't tell me you lost the other two already. "

" Nah. They're still on route, but, had to make a relay before we finished, " the man explained, siding an arm toward the other present. " Got ourselves a new Light. Figured you can fill her in. "

At the mention, the Awoken fidgets a bit. A hand raised to her opposing elbow, gripping at the torn cloth of her shirt in nerves. A struggle to rest eye contact with the other woman, attention bouncing between she and the hawk. So much socializing so soon... it was uneasy.

" New Light, huh? Explains the civilian look, almost had me hopeful for more company on my side of the field, " the woman grins, crossing her arms at her chest. " Don't worry, I got it from here. Get back with your team before they get too far ahead. I don't need Cayde breathing at my back because I lost a set of his boys. "

" Eh, he doesn't own us, " the man laughed, waving a hand in farewell. Offering the Awoken a gentle pat on the shoulder before turning his guard, making it half way down the stairs before pausing in a hunch, " Oh - and when you're done giving her the tour, drop her by the shop. Can take the payment out of my share. Call it newbies' welcome. "

An exasperated huff, the woman parts one of her arms from her chest briefly, shooing the man away before turning back to her newly company with a smile. 

" So... the Traveler's still got it. The Vanguard will be pretty happy to hear there's still a chance of new Light's like you. We haven't gotten many since the blackout. How're you feelin'? "

" I feel... fine, I guess, " the Awoken answered hesitantly. Fluttering irises sheepishly making out the details of the others' face and wares now that it was just the two of them. She didn't look like the rest of the Guardians... yet her presentation sat all the same confidence. " Still... kinda grasping everything. "

" It's a lot to take in, " the other nods. " Don't stress yourself too much. It'll all sort itself out in due time. Always affects people a little differently, so I've noticed. You want any water or anything? Something I can help? "

" N-No.. that's not necessary. Thank you, though... uhm... "

" Suraya. Suraya Hawthorne, " the woman grinned. " But most here just call me Hawthorne. "

" Hawthorne... ah... thank you, for.. y'know, " the Light stumbles upon words, self grip upon her arm shuffling in thought. It was so hard to speak. " Are you a Guardian as well...? "

" Me? Nah, " Hawthorne shrugged, uncrossing her arms now as one extends to reach a finger under the Hawk's neck. A satisfied purr ruffling its' feathers in the attention. " I'm just a glorified nobody. Most here consider me the bridge between humanity and the Guardians - sayin' that my leadership is what's helping those without the Traveler get by. But ever since coming to the Tower, I guess I've also become the therapy necessary for transitioning Lights like you. You know, tailoring between both worlds, sorta thing. "

In some matter of speaking, it was relieving to hear, coming from another. That not all Guardians' where up and att'em moment they revived -- that a transition was by all means necessary. Either that, or it was just the others' aura that seemed gentle and honest. The beginning to a long stretch that would be the Awoken's trust in the people of the City and its' Vanguard.

" Speaking of which, where's your little guy? Or gal - no judge, " the woman questioned, a brow quirking at the quick altercation as her finger left the nudge of the Hawk.

" It's... he -- " 

  -- " Here, here! Sorry - sorry, I seemed to have gotten caught up in all the networking since getting close to the city, " blinking into existence, the Ghost rattled its' shell in frantic speak. Its' shell zooming in between the space that lingered between the two women, then hovering particularly aligned with the bird in staring. " It's just so... much! Too much, a lot to take in right away. Did you know there was over ten passcodes to enter the City's network? Over ten! "

" Got yourself a chatty one, didn't you? " Hawthorne laughed, tilting her head some as she examined the Ghost. " Firewalls, pal. Necessary to keep the bad taillights outta the bags of information. I'm sure someone here can catch you up to speed once you pass the Vanguard's evaluation. Then there'll be no more passcodes. "

" The Vanguard? " the Awoken blinked. " Who is...? "

" The Vanguard are the head-honchos' of this place. The gears that keep the City going - one of them being right over there, " she points, directing attention at another woman on the lower floor. " Ikora Rey. One of the best, if not the best, Warlock there is. Definitely one of the more mentally sound of the bunch. Then there's big blue, Zavala - you might've seen him when you flew in if he's at his usual perch. Can usually find him overshadowing the city off the Tower's edge. There's a lot of strong Titan's out there... but powered by his sheer determination to protect the people, he gives' people a run for their money. "

" What about the Hunters...? Or is that where you come in? "

The question leaving little to be answered in the matter, the womans' brows anchor upward in jest as she shakes her head, a laughterous tone to her words, " Nah, not me - no way. I can't keep up with those maniacs. Though it is a wonder if they'd be just as reckless with a different mentor on the field... " a sigh, though not in forfeit. " Cayde-6. Best shot around, but plenty of screws loose. He's a... pretty eccentric guy. "

Well, that didn't sound good.

Between the several named, all in which felt completely out of her league, the Awoken shifted in her step. A secondary glance at the woman below, hands running through several piles of paperwork that were scattered along a hand-crafted table. She was unfamiliar with that of Warlocks and what they inherited... but by the sounds of it, it seemed only reasonable to seek that Vanguard through its' calmest mind.

" And their evaluation.. process.. " she speaks, eyes returning back to Hawthorne. " Some sort of test? "

" A test of character, really. Consider it more an interview than exam. If you haven't realized it yet, most Guardians have this affinity for seeing others' light. The Vanguard are particularly precise in that merit. Can tell a good taillight from bad taillight, " Hawthorne nodded her head side to side as she spoke, declaring the differences between the two. " I can get you and the Misses' downstairs acquainted if you like. "

Gotta start from somewhere, right?

" I.. would like that, yes. "

Another smile, Hawthorne then turns to the hawk at her aide, giving its' neck another tap before walking alongside the other. " Eyes on the sky, Bird. And watch for the turbines, will ya'? "

" Its' name is Bird? " the Light repeated, her tone perplexed.

" I'm not good with names - too many of'em to keep track of, " Hawthorne admitted, leading the way back down the stairs of the small hall. " Just makes things easier, y'know?... What about you? You got a name? "

A name.

How odd -- she hadn't considered her own name til now, even through the mental capacity of trying to learn every other. The Hunter on the ship only addressing her as ' new Light ', and her Ghost -- as well nameless -- a ' Guardian '. Each name sitting upon title and lacking the personalization of character.

What was her name...?

. . . . .

. . .

" ...I'm Selene. "

" Selene? Nice to meet you, Selene. "

[thedistantstorm]

Close Proximity

The Vanguard | Hurt/Comfort | Nightmares | Friendship | Grief & Mourning | Mid-Shadowkeep (no real spoilers)

"She's trying to practice what she preached," Ophiuchus informs him.

He understands. Moving on is hard.

-/

In the aftermath of the Cabal's assault on the Last City, the Vanguard made a conscious decision to set up a residence for themselves and as many of their fellow Guardians who wished to reside atop the Tower. As such, the Vanguard themselves currently entertained living quarters slightly offset from the rest of the Guardian housing.

It's both ideal and stifling. Never far to go for a few hours of blessed rest, but sometimes it was hard to check work at the door when it's all around, all the time, and the people with whom they spend arguably too much time with already are only separated by too-thin walls.

Tonight, Zavala does not mind the close proximity of his fireteam, though he enjoys his peace and quiet and solitude. Tonight, his sensitive hearing is able to pick up the beginnings of distress from his partner. Tonight, he is through Ikora's door before Ophiuchus can call upon him, not that the mostly silent Ghost would, until things escalated much further. Tonight, proximity is a blessing.

Ikora sleeps even less than Zavala. She always has, her unmatched intellect and the blessing of Light keeps her going. Or, at least, that's what people thought. Ikora, at her core, is an insomniac of the highest order. Sleep, rest, while she argues that it keeps her from work, the reality is that she cannot switch herself off for a few hours to recharge, no matter how much she tries to. And when she does, usually she finds herself in waking visions, puzzling things out in her unconscious mind.

Never, in all his lives, would he be vocal about her fragility. That is not his way. But she is a Warlock, and a cataclysm of a woman in a glass case.

And sometimes, glass breaks.

The last time he'd been in here was in the week after Cayde's death. She'd woke screaming and he'd let himself in. They had access to each other’s quarters for emergencies. She cried and cried and wouldn't let him touch her, console her, and he knew better, at that point, didn't try to speak. When she'd gathered her wits about her, she'd cast him out, uncaring for what she called pity in his eyes, and unwilling to help him shoulder his grief in a similar way.

She had been selfish, and he, though disappointed and hurting himself, understood. Empathy was never her strength. She excelled at holding a grudge, which was way he’s surprised to find the door accessible to him at all, exactly as it had been before.

She does not like to be touched, and in this state she is far more dangerous than she would be if she were awake. He hears what might be words cross her lips - quiet, restrained (in her mind's eye, he's sure she's screaming) - sees how her fists glow beneath the covers (she's feeling threatened), the way her legs make tiny, stilted jerks (she's running).

Her head shakes from side to side, as if trying to avoid what she's seeing. That much happens far faster, is indicative of her subconscious' torment.

He sits on the edge of her bed, carefully. "You're dreaming," He tells her, loud enough that it's not a whisper, but not the echoing boom that his voice can be when instructing others. "It's only a dream."

That does not work. He repeats it several times, but the sharp, staccato sounds she makes aren't indicative of someone being roused from sleep. Whatever she's dreaming will not release her from it's clutches.

Which means it can only be one person. There is only one thing that can rattle her so, these days.

And, like clockwork, she forces out his name in a pained, guttural utterance. 

"Cayde-"

"She's trying to practice what she preached," Ophiuchus says, a soft, matter-of-fact voice at his right shoulder, when she jerks again - as if to shield herself from something - but does not wake. "The effort is-"

Zavala nods. He understands. Moving on is hard. Taking that first step may seem harder than the journey itself. He has lost much, but she does not build relationships like he does. Her social circle is brittle and complicated.

"The Moon did not help. She's," Ophiuchus bobs up and down with a sigh, "Incredibly sensitive to the energies there. Cursed for being so gifted."

When she cries out again, it's not to be ignored. Zavala does not bother with yelling. Her mind is strong - that too, is a curse. She likely believes herself deserving of the torture. Knowing he may very well regret it, he places a hand on her shoulder and her entire body seizes.

He feels the crack of her latent ability, the icy creep of the Void, ready to consume, but it’s inhibited. She hesitates. Another storm-crash of their fallen third’s name falls from thin lips, raw and pained. The Void lingers, though. But she could blow the both of them into the Void for all he cares right now. He will not allow her to suffer alone.

“Wake up, Ikora,” He bids her, sliding his left hand hand against the pillow to cradle her head, the right to her left shoulder, pulling her upright.

She wakes like she’s come up from icy water for air, eyes rocketing open, jaw unhinged on a harsh gasp, body rigid in his hands.

Before he can get the first syllable out, even begin to tell her that it will be alright, she’s sagging forward, hands brought up to her chest like it hurts. He doesn’t catch her so much as she slumps against his chest and the way she holds back her sobs, forces herself to swallow them down hits him hard.

But when he locks his arms around her, more aptly pulling her into an embrace, that restraint crumbles into high-pitched breaths that crest and break against him, desperately seeking release.

Zavala tries not to act surprised, tries not to tense himself and give it away. This is a first. Ikora has, to his knowledge, never sought out comfort before. Not like this. Not with anyone.  The shock wears off quick though, burning into a deep-seated affection for this woman. They fight, they are flawed, they do the best they can. They might not see eye to eye on everything - or even much at all - but, they are family and will always be.

He draws her in closer and her arms come around his back, slim, elegant fingers clutching the back of his shirt for dear life.

“I tell them that it’s time we move on,” She says, voice shaking from emotion, hitching on a sob. “I’m trying,” Her voice dips low, desperate. “But-”

“I know,” Zavala agrees. She doesn’t have to push herself. “There was just something about him. Even if he drove me crazy.”

Ikora sighs through what might have been an amused breath, sniffling and pulling back. For his part, Zavala does not try to keep her caged in an embrace any longer than she’ll allow. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it feels like an entire lifetime. “I woke you, didn’t I?”

“I was up.” He rises from the side of her bed, not wishing to impose upon her personal space any more than he already has. “I apologize for letting myself i-”

She holds up a hand, drawing back the covers and slipping from the bed in her night clothes, heavy robes to hold back the chill of the cool air. “Thank you.” She looks down, and away. “Even if you might have-”

“I knew what I was walking into,” He says, not quite smiling but amused. It bleeds into his tone. “I could suppress most of it, I’d hope.”

“You should get some sleep.”

“You should, too.”

“That was… enough,” She says, softer. Smaller. Still shaken. Her golden eyes flick up to his own, aware that she’s hardly convincing.

“Do you still keep chamomile tea in here?” He asks, innocently enough.

Her brows furrow. “Yes, but I don’t really-” He shrugs, almost imperceptibly. He knows she doesn’t like chamomile. It’s a thinly concealed tactic. “I’ll probably just watch some nonsensical programming until I nod off,” She admits, though she’ll certainly not fall back asleep tonight, of that she seems convinced.

“Would you like company?”

It takes her a moment to decide, but Zavala’s patient in a way that does not make it seem like she’s being put on the spot. Eventually, she gestures for him to go ahead, so he removes his shoes in the hall and heads to the lounge. An agreement, in not as many words.

He’d made her a beautiful violet blanket for the Dawning, the first one after the War. A piece of comfort, something to curl up with that lasts longer than a single book or a canister of tea. Something fond warms him to find it draped over the chair she reads in, not perfectly folded.

Used.

“May I?”

She nods, and he settles at the far end of the couch. For the second time tonight, he’s surprised when she pulls the blanket off the chair and brings both it and the tiny remote with her. “May I?” She echoes, informing him, “The couch reclines, if you’d like to get comfortable.”

When he’s leaned back, not quite laying down but comfortable, a pillow is pushed against his side and he can feel the weight of her head resting upon it. She drapes the blanket over herself and curls up. His hand finds the middle of her back, rubbing in soothing, even circles.

The weight of his hand grows heavy, and after a while, his sluggish motions stop as he nods off. But Ikora’s been snoring quietly for a while yet, one hand clasped over his knee, the other barred against his leg beneath the pillow. For the rest of the night she doesn’t dream.

[lumi-klovstad-games]

Ramses-17′s opinions on Destiny 2′s cast in the unfortunate event of his Death or Amnesia

The Prompt: Your Guardian, or a character of your choice, making video logs in case they die or start losing their memories

Ramses-17:

*shuffles nervously in front of the camera*

Hey you... so, I guess I’m either dead-dead or I’ve lost my memory completely. If I’m dead, I hope I pulled a Cayde-6 and went out like an absolute badass, defiant to the end. I mean, not that I’m eager to punch out or anything, but I at least hope my death measures up to what I hope my life amounted to. Preferably, even more so, but that’s a tall order. It’s been quite a life so far.

Some notes: I hope Saint-14 is still hanging around. If he is, go say hi. Make friends with him. He’s a damn good example of the very best of us. The image of a Guardian. He’s the icon I strive to live up to -- he taught me what it means to be a Titan and a Guardian. Just don’t don’t engage in a snowball fight with him. I don’t care how tempting it seems.

Be nice to Zavala. Yes, he’s made some dick calls, I mean, really dick calls... but his one love and loyalty is the City. Everything he’s done, smart or not, kind or not, was in its defense. He just... doesn’t understand that not all Guardians are like him, I think. You can get the story of what went down between us from Ikora, Shaxx, or Reena Feng but... dammit I’m just no good at telling stories. Point is, don’t judge him too harshly. There’s a good man underneath that gruff and social ineptness. Kind of like me, I guess.

Speaking of Reena Feng... it’s taken me a while to come to terms with the girl, and the choices she made, but ultimately... she made a better call than I did at the time. Showing mercy to Kaya-Sei was absolutely the right call, and I’m glad she was there to stop me. If she hadn’t been there, I think I would have regretted my decisions forever. If it’s Ramses-18 watching? Go thank that plucky Warlock. Say 17 told you to do it. She’ll laugh it off, tell a joke to try to deflect how much it makes her feel, but she’ll really appreciate it. With luck, you’ll be best friends with her, just like I used to be.

On the note of Kaya-Sei: she’s not that different from Zavala. She’s stuck in her way of seeing the world, but she’s not a bad person. If you cross paths with her, don’t treat her like the traitor everyone says she is. You can absolutely trust her, and this is coming from me, so that’s gotta mean something. Normally I wouldn’t say “trust the personal hitwoman of Mara Sov”, but if Kaya’s involved, take her side. She’s damn well earned that apology from me. Also her judgment is much better than it looks from the outside, which is a good thing because sometimes she really looks like a moron. Don’t tell her I said that. I mean, the part where I called her a moron. Go ahead and flatter her with the bit where I said she has good judgment. Mostly because it’s true.

Quick bits: Ikora Rey? Excellent sagely counselor. If you have concerns, she has some of the best advice out there. If you’re concerned about where to turn or what to do, ask her. You won’t regret it.

Drifter? Keep well away from that smarmy bastard. Something about him doesn’t add up, and the loot just isn’t worth the risk.

Ada-9: Worth kissing up to. Her gear is second to none. Just... learn to put up with the attitude; it’s not going away.

Devrim Kay: I may not have taste buds, but his tea is so good I’ve forgotten that fact any number of times. You can rely on him too. He may not have a Ghost, but he’s every inch a guardian in my book.

Asher Mir: ...kind of an asshole with a heart of jerk. Deal with him only when you must.

Sloane: Lady gets stuff done. Can be gruff, but don’t let it get to you. She’s worth getting to know.

Failsafe: I used to stop by every weekend and play board games with her. You should too. I know she likes the intellectual stimulation and the company.

Ana Bray: Ana Bray.... what do I say about her? That she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen? That I’m grateful to have ever known her? That she’s kick ass? That she helped me discover some bits about myself before I was all... metal? Ana’s brave and beautiful and unconventional and a trouble magnet, but she’s up there with the best of us. She should be a legend, in my opinion. But maybe I’m biased. If you’re watching this, Ramses-18: go get her, Tiger. 

Eris Morn: Queen of spookiness. Has a knack for knowing where we should really make our stand. You should absolutely dance in front of her. The worst that can happen is raisins. *barely contained laughter* 

Emperor Calus: Bad news, and definitely that “friend” nobody should like. Steer clear.

Xur: Oh dear god, ditto. Even if his loot is awesome, he’s shifty as hell and keep an eye on him. You don’t need his gear anyway. A real Guardian makes do and has plenty of tools in every situation anyway. Whatever he’s selling, you don’t need it. Even if it is really, really cool.

Tess Everis: Shrewd woman. Offers some neat stuff, but keep your hand on your cash when you deal with her, because she’ll probably rob you blind and call it “commerce”. Cayde never did finish that investigation of whether or not she ran Eververse sweat shops in the City. You should look into that for me.

Fenchurch Everis: I really don’t think he exists. Tess 100% made him up. I mean, has anyone ever actually seen him? Like, in person? Exactly. He’s pure fiction and you need to tell Tess to knock those stupid stories off.

Petra Venj: God I hate her. But... *sighs* she occasionally makes a good point and she’s handy in a fight. Also, if you kill her, I’m pretty sure Kaya-Sei will go all hitwoman on you and you will not make it through the rest of the week so play nice, I guess.

Mara Sov: Everything I just said about Petra Venj goes triple for Mara Sov.

Mithrax: Pretty damn chill for a Fallen.

Spider: Same, and oddly trustworthy. Do not trust him anyway, just for pragmatism’s sake.

Osiris: Means well but will 100% screw you over purely by accident. Keep your distance, but be ready for Ikora to draft you into cleaning up his latest mess on a monthly basis.

Banshee-44: Ever seen an Exo with Alzheimer’s? Banshee’s as close as you get. I heard a rumor that 44 is just the amount of reboots he lost count at. Either way, he’s got a memory like a sieve, but it’s hard to find a better gunsmith. Be patient with him. He’s been through more than I could possibly know.

Shaxx: He’s loud, he’s proud, he will get you killed many, many, many times, but he’ll help you stand back up every time. He’s quality guardian.

Lord Saladin: He’s grim, but like Eris, he comes by it honestly. Make sure he adds my name to his list.

Amanda Holliday: God I love her. She’ll have more than few tales to tell you about me. Not just me, lots of interesting stuff from our recent history. I think she’s seen almost as much as I have, and in a much shorter span. I have no clue how she keeps it together, but she does, and I’m grateful.

Suraya Hawthorne: I mean, she’s a nice gal and a great ally, but I think her desk job is getting to her -- sometimes it seems like she doesn’t realize how much stuff actually happened since she took her posting in the Tower. Poor girl needs some time in the field again if you ask me.

Who else is left? I guess I should mention Caesar, my ghost. Hopefully he’s watching over a Ramses-18, who is hopefully watching this. We’ve been through some times together, and hopefully, he’s there to get you through some more. I couldn’t ask for a more stalwart partner.

I guess all that’s left is me. I’ve always been a survivor. From Twilight Gap all the way to the Crimson Spire Offensive, I’ve made it through battle after battle. If I’ve lost my memory, maybe in some way it’s a blessing. I can’t begin to tell you the things that witnessing what I have does to a mind. Sometimes it’s better to simply know what you’ve faced and overcome and not know the details. I wouldn’t choose to forget any of it, but... if I have, I’d be hard pressed to say I regret the loss. But if you’re watching this, I don’t care if you’re Ramses-18 or someone else: by watching this, you’re picking up a piece of my legacy.

Go on and make something great with it. Most (keyword: MOST) of the folks I’ve mentioned will help. But you’ve sat and listened to an old Exo reminisce long enough. The future’s yours, Guardian. Go build it.