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fireteam-dauntless · 4 years ago

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A Tale of Two Guardians XXXI

Part I of the Destined Series Chapter 31 : Regicide

word count : 5.7K (grab your tea, this one’s a biggie) masterlist | tag list : @mail-me-a-snail @basically-nacl @galagd @speed-boop @lady-efriyeet

CW: corruption, mental instability, major character “death”, self injury.

I woke the next morning and the bed beside me was cold. I sat up and yawned. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window. My hair was messy and my eyes looked tired. I stretched my arms and then ran my hands through my hair. I didn’t know that Maverick had left me last night. I slept far too well. Better than I had in weeks. I rolled out of bed and grabbed a robe. My apartment was chilly. The temperature was dropping day by day as the seasons were changing. Winter was fast approaching. I pulled on the robe as I walked down the stairs slowly, only to be met with the sound of sizzling food and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. I walked downstairs and into the kitchen, and there Maverick was, cooking breakfast at the stove. His Ghost was talking to him, telling him how to cook whatever he was making. I smiled to myself and leaned against the door frame. I didn't say a word.

“Be careful Maverick, you’re going to burn it!” His Ghost scolded.

“I don’t know! I’m really trying, okay! Now hush before you wake her up.”

I watched as he flipped the spatula in his hand and heard the pan sizzle. I smiled softly and walked into the kitchen, my bare feet silent on the floor. The table was set with orange juice, plates, and silverware. I was so flattered by his lavish attempts at making me breakfast.

I walked up beside him and gently wrapped one of my arms around his back. He jumped a bit and looked down, and he smiled at the sight of me. I peered around to see what he was making, he was making French toast. “Turn the heat down,” I said as I reached around and turned the knob on the stove to medium-low, where he had it at medium-high. “It will cook evenly that way.”

“Well good morning, Angel,” he said happily. “Did you sleep alright?”

I shifted around and hugged him from behind, my head leaning against his back. “Mmm… better than I have since all of this started. You think the Vanguard would be okay with us breaking protocol like this?”

“Ikora and Cayde, maybe. They both have sympathy for you and I, and I know Ikora knows about us. You know, because her Hidden are everywhere. And Cayde’s, well, Cayde. He loves breaking rules. But Big Blue? No way in hell.”

“That’s still two-to-one.”

“Yes it is.”

He moved around me and over to the table, then dished out the food to each of us. At least, more for me than himself. We sat down together and ate breakfast mostly in silence. We spent most of the morning and early afternoon relaxing in the living room. Maverick was telling me stories about his adventures that he hid from the vanguard. I was sketching on a bunch of loose leaf, and the papers were scattered all around the room. He was sitting on the corner cushion, I was laying on my back, head in his lap, knees propped up with my sketchpad resting on my thighs. I could feel myself dozing off every now and then as he played with my hair, and he would wake me by either gently ticking me or giving me soft kisses. I didn’t even think about our impending mission, but as the day rolled on, I was becoming more and more anxious.

I didn’t even want to put my armor on. I was dreading this mission. When it was reaching three o’clock and we were going to have to meet the vanguard in a few hours. At least, Maverick was. He was to get the mission briefing before we left for the Dreadnaught. Skinner and I were going to be waiting for him in Orbit.

While I was armoring up, taking my time, dreading each piece that I pulled on, Maverick came into my bedroom. I only had my pants and boots on so far, so I was only wearing the form fitting undershirt. I looked up at him and gave him a wary smile. He walked over to me quietly and knelt down in front of me.

“It’s almost over,” he said quietly. “We are almost there. This is it, Angel.”

“I know,” I replied. “I just… I have a really bad feeling…”

“Me too.” He took my hands in his and squeezed them gently. “But we will win, I promise you. We'll make it out, together, as a team.”

I nodded. “I know. You should be heading out to the Vanguard, I’ll be waiting in orbit with Skinner.”

“I know… Meet Skinner in the Hanger. We’re all riding in on my ship. I’ve given you both access to it. He’s going to take it to Orbit and I’ll be meeting you there.”

I nodded as he walked out of my room. I finished gearing up, took my Monte Carlo, 1000-Yard Stare, and Choleric Dragon SRT-49, and left my apartment. I was listening to some pre-Golden Age music records that I had found a long time back, the date on the record somewhere in the 1940s. But it was Frank Sinatra, and the jazzy, vocal pop vibes gave me a sense of freedom and never failed to calm me down. I met Skinner in the Hanger, my heart feeling lighter, my hope for victory stronger. Light always prevails in Darkness. For there is no darkness without light.

“Well, you seem to be in a better mood than just about everyone I know,” Skinner commented as he approached me. “Nice to see that someone on our team is hopeful.”

I smiled at him, but it was hollow. I could feel the pit in my stomach growing. “I have to hold tightly onto my hope,” I said. “Without hope…” I looked away from him. “Without hope, I have nothing left.”

“Aww, c’mon, Storm, don’t say that. You have me. And you have Maverick.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and gave me a hug from the side.

“I know,” I said. “You guys… you are my hope. You’re my family, you know that?”

“Yeah. And you’re mine, too, Punchy.”

I laughed aloud. “We should get into orbit. Maverick’s expecting us.”

The Hunter nodded and we walked up to Amanda. He gave the Shipwright Maverick’s ship codes, and we boarded. Skinner took his place in the co-pilot seat and I took my seat behind the pilot’s seat. He flipped all of the switches the ship hummed to life. We waited for Maverick in orbit, in silence and mutual discomfort of what was to come.

Twenty minutes later, Maverick appeared on board. He walked up into the cockpit with Skinner, gently kissing the top of my head as he passed by. He took his place at the pilot controls and plotted our course for the Dreadnaught. Before we left, he turned in his seat to look at us. “Listen, I know…. I know I’ve been a shitty fireteam leader lately. But no matter what, we are going in there as a team, and we stick together. No matter what.”

“Semper fi,” Skinner said. We both looked at him with our heads tilted. It sounded oddly familiar, like I knew what it was, but I wasn’t sure where it was from. “Oh… it’s a pre-Golden Age saying from America in one of their defense divisions. Marines, I think? It means ‘Ever Faithful, Ever Loyal’.”

I smiled. Of course, that’s where I heard it. I had read about it in some old American war papers and it sounded off in my dreams. “Oorah.”

“You’ve heard it?”

“In a distant dream, like a memory of my past.”

Maverick grinned. “Alright team, let’s finish this.”

He turned back to the controls and Skinner turned back to his, then we made the jump from Earth to the Rings of Saturn. The entire time, we were all in silence. Despite our overall sense of confidence in our abilities, it was clear that we were all on edge. We landed in the Hull Breach, and the Vanguard channel started to come through, loud and clear.

“All of this was set in motion long ago,” Eris said, sounding just as depressing as usual. “He calls out, and the Darkness answers.”

“Okaay!” Cayde cut in. “Creepy sidekick. Check. Roguish commander. Check. And then we have the Fireteam, my greatest success story. I'd say we're ready to get this done.”

“Push back the dark,” Eris continued. “End it.”

“She’s right, Fireteam. There’s no doubt in my mind this could possibly work. Now, get to that rupture.”

Maverick took the lead, motioning us to follow him. And we did, straight through the wrecked Cabal ship to the Mausoleum. When we got into the area, Cabal and Hive were fighting each other, along with Taken that were starting to pollute the area. We had to fight our way to the rupture. It was never easy.

“Okay, this is where the Rupture should be,” Maverick said as we approached the dias that we last fought the Echo of Oryx.

“Get it open!” Cayde insisted. “Once you’re through, send your coordinates. We’ll lock down your signal and deploy reinforcements.”

As we approached, Maverick pulled out the Crystal. The Rupture opened abruptly, making us all jump back ever so slightly.

“The rupture can sense the soul you hold. You are Ascendant!” Eris exclaimed.

“Time to go kill a king, eh, Fireteam? Good luck.”

Maverick turned around to look at us. Skinner reloaded his shotgun and pumped it, ready for whatever army was on the other side. “Well,” he said. “I’m ready when you are.”

He looked at me directly, and I could feel his worry, but I didn’t want to let him feel mine. I gave him a nod. “Let’s go.”

The moment we passed through that Rupture, with no exit behind us and nothing but static on all of the feeds, I got that sick feeling in my stomach again. I was right. We were trapped here. “We’re going to have to finish this on our own,” I said quietly. “All of the feeds are dead and my Ghosts scans are returning nothing.”

We started to proceed forwards. The only clear path was down this long hallway. Lanterns that lined the sides lit up as we passed by them. Something about this place, the way it acknowledged our presence… it was like there was always going to be eyes on us. That something was watching.

“We’re definitely… somewhere,” Maverick said as we slowed down. He turned to look behind us at the lit lanterns that emitted an ominous yellow-orange glow. “No sign of Oryx.”

As we approached the end of the hall, the ball of Taken energy, the one that led us here, the one that led my team on Phobos, appeared.

“Hey, Maverick, remember that bad feeling I told you about?” I said as I held fast to my gun. “It’s getting worse.”

“I hear you,” he replied. “Let’s just keep moving. We’re bound to find Oryx somewhere in here.”

As we approached the Taken light, it fled further down the hallway, down the stairs and to the space between the pair of steps. Skinner scoffed. “Well, now we know we have his attention. Hi, Oryx, you murderous bastard.” I followed the two of them down, pausing a moment to gaze down scope at the platforms across the chasm. They were empty, then again, the entire area was. Like a stage. The moment we reached the orb, Taken started to spawn in the room. Immediately, Maverick started calling out orders.

“Skinner, on my six!” He shouted. “Storm, get up high and take out those snipers!”

Skinner nodded and ran down the steps with Maverick. I ran back up and crouched at the top, positioned my sniper at my shoulder, and started taking out the Taken Hobgoblins. One by one, they disappeared into nothing, but I had to take cover after every kill because they would send three projectiles at my location. As I took out the last one, I opened the feed with Maverick and Skinner. “How’s it going down there boys?” I asked as I peeked around the corner. I started to snipe down what I could while they were running around like madmen, killing all of the Taken they set eyes on.

“Be better if you weren’t stealing all of my kills,” Skinner laughed. It was obvious that he felt better now that he was finally getting some action out there. While he was distracted stabbing a Psion, I sniped the Knight that had crept up behind him, finally ending the battle. Skinner turned around and looked up at me. “Really? I had him!”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” I chuckled. I started to walk down to join the two of them. Maverick gently clapped a hand on my shoulder.

“Nice shot, Storm. Now let’s keep moving. Oryx must be deeper inside.” We walked up the stairs to the upper platform, and stood before a door that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. We must have stood there for maybe a full thirty seconds before it opened for us, making me more and more anxious the longer we had to wait. But when it finally did open, we walked through into the adjoining room, where another alter hosted a rupture. However, before we even got far into the room, a Shadow of Oryx appeared, his voice screaming in both the room and taking over our comms.

“You… are the last hope of the Light?” Oryx said as he gazed over our team. “I have taken entire worlds! You are not worthy to face me!” The shadow disappeared and the rupture opened. Ta’aun, the Hand of Oryx, the same Centurion that we saw him take in our first trip to the dreadnaught walked out and immediately began firing down on us. Maverick crouched down behind some of the barricades in the room, Skinner and I behind another. We all took turns getting his attention and letting the others shoot him. Skinner and I were doing most of the damage while Maverick kept him from looking at us. Before we could kill him, Baxx, the Hand of Oryx, the Ogre he took while we were stealing the Shard of Crota’s crystal on the Moon, walked through the rupture, and it closed behind him. This just made everything more difficult, as we couldn’t keep damaging and distracting at the same time.

“Any ideas Mav?” Skinner asked over comms as he dove behind another barricade, somewhat closer to the two Taken Ultras.

“Just one. You got your Tether?”

“Um, duh. I’ve had it for like twenty minutes now. Just waiting for your signal.”

“Good. Storm, you got your Radiance?”

“Just finished charging up. I was hoping to keep it charged in case things get dicey when we fight Oryx, though.”

“Fine, keep it. Skinner, on my mark, tether the two of them.”

“What mark?”

He didn’t need an answer. Maverick jumped up and pulled a Hammer of Sol out of thin air, the clang of it loud and distinct as solar energy enveloped his body. Skinner jumped up seconds later, pulling the Void string of his bow back, and shot an arrow right between the two bosses. They flinched as they were tethered to the arrow’s landing mark, and their mistake was not starting to shoot again. Maverick threw hammers quickly and precisely, until they fell and disappeared, defeated. I came out from cover and caught up to the two of them.

“Wish I could have helped you two better,” I sighed.

“No worries, it’s better that you save that radiance for a time of need. There’s only so much those fusion grenades can do.” Maverick threw his last hammer at the last thrall left in the room. Shortly after, the rupture reopened, almost like it was welcoming us into it.

“Well,” I said as I loaded a few fresh rounds into my sniper. “Looks like we’re worthy now.”

We walked through the portal and it put us in a very narrow hallway.

“How many more of these damn things do you have to go through?” Skinner asked, irritated.

“I don't know, Skinner, hopefully that was the last one,” Maverick sighed.

We exited the Hall and came out to a big doorway on the other side of a chasm with Hive guarding it. There was no visible way across before Oryx began speaking.

“Come for me Warrior of Light! I will finish what Crota began!” As he finished speaking, the Hive guarding the door ran through it as if they were summoned back. As the last of the Hive went through the door platforms began to materialize. We made our way to them when I motioned for the two of them to stop.

“I'm not going first, not after last time,” I said firmly. The last time I stepped foot on one of those platforms, it went out from beneath me and I fell to my death.

“Come on Storm, Oryx challenged us and by the Sword Logic he can't play dirty. At least he's not supposed too.” Mav said hopefully, “Eris said so.”

“Fine, but if this bridge fades from existence, I'm jumping off,” I said.

“Good luck with that Warlock,” Skinner mocked. I lifted my gun his way then towards the bridge, and he held up his hands in defense, but laughed and went first anyway. We walked across the bridge and stopped in front of the door. Two giant carvings of stone on either side.

“Hold on,” I said and pulled out my Ghost, “Peu de lumière, who are these carving for?”

“Well obviously one of them is for Crota's,” she while she examined the one on the right, “but this one, there isn't anything in the World's Grave on it, but the engraved name just says Nokris.”

We walked through the giant door and were met with another carving.

“Let me guess this one is Oryx?” Mav said.

“Yes it is.”

We walked around the statue to a Taken flame on the ground.

“Oooh! I want to touch it!” Skinner shouted gleefully and ran toward the flame. Before Maverick could stop him, he was close to it and it shot down the hall, and it left a trail behind it. Then it ran up the door and it made a symbol, Oryx’s symbol. It glowed white then darkened to a reddish-orange color before the door opened. And there stood the Hive King, standing there covering the room in Darkness, chanting some kind of ritual. I couldn’t see him, but we could sense his presence in the room.

"This is it, this is where it ends." Maverick said, "let’s go guys." Maverick took out his Necrochasm, the weapon he obtained from killing Crota. It was almost fitting. As the door closed behind us, the Darkness rushed to Oryx.

"At last!" He yelled as his sword levitated up from the ground and he grabbed it effortlessly. "I will have vengeance! It will feel good to kill the two Light Warriors who killed my kin!" He then glanced at me and I could feel his three eyes burning into my soul, so I positioned my rocket launcher on my shoulder. "And a third as a trophy." I closed my eyes for a brief moment. He knew.

“Maverick,” I said over our private channel, my voice almost shaking. “He knows. He knows I survived Phobos.”

Before Oryx could make his next more, out of pure rage Maverick took out another round of Hammers of Sol. But just before the first hammer collided, I felt all of my energy drain and I stumbled, as did Skinner. The Hunter grabbed hold of my arm and dragged me behind cover. When Maverick’s hammers were spent, he jumped behind cover with us.

"What happened? What did he do?"

"I don't know," Skinner said

"It felt like he was draining my Light." I said.

"Your Traveler's Light can not reach you here!" Oryx taunted.

"If he keeps doing that I don't know if I'll have my Radiance for when I need it."

Oryx once again began the ritual and targeted Maverick with it, so he took out his Gjallarhorn and shot a rocket at him, breaking his focus once more. And he vanished and summoned Taken to take over.

"Yeah." Maverick said bitterly. He must have had his light drained. " That's unpleasant, but let's kill these Taken and draw him out again." It was more Acolytes and Hobgoblins. We killed them without a problem, though it almost felt too easy. Oryx then appeared to the right of the room and beckoned to us, "What you call Darkness is the end of your evolution." He then raised his hand and the air around Maverick started to crackle, and before we knew it, hot, taken energy exploded right where he was standing, moments after he was able to dive out of the way, but the armor on his shoulder was singed and he looked hurt.

"Mav! You alright?" Skinner asked.

"I'm fine, just focus on Oryx!" he shouted.

Skinner and I both fired on him, and I emptied the last of my rockets into his skull, and yet he barely flinched. Oryx summoned Taken Captains and Psions to keep us busy as he began his ritual again, this time targeting Skinner.

“Skinner take cover!” I shouted, dragging him out of the Captain’s line of fire.

“Storm keep them off me!” Mav shouted.

“Sure thing,” I said and jumped out of cover and drew the attention of the Taken away by running through them, firing my auto rifle at the Psions and dragging a Captain’s attention away from him. Maverick was launching more rockets at him, and the tracking clusters broke his focus once more. We killed off the second round Taken before Oryx began to speak again.

“The Darkness is a gift!” He declared as he appeared at the pool on the outside and summoned Taken Phalanx's and Thrall again. But instead of trying his luck with a ritual again he started to fight by rushing one of us firing his Darkness blasts and trying to kill us with his sword. When he tried to attack one of us, the other two would attack on Maverick’s signal. Once again, he vanished from sight but this time a giant blight formed around the pool of Hive gunk and it went quiet. No more Taken spawned in the room and Oryx never came outside. It was absolutely silent.

“What do you think he's planning?” I asked.

“I have no idea, but keep you guard up just in case.” Mav said.

Minutes passed and nothing happened. Skinner was just kicking around rocks. “Man, Oryx is being such a…” before he could finish his sentence he was surrounded by Taken energy. “Wh-What the fuck?!” He yelled before disappearing.

“Skinner?!” Maverick and I yelled together. Maverick ran over to where he was.

“He's… he's gone.” he said. He started to shake, whether from sadness or rage I couldn’t tell. “No! I will not fail again!” He then jumped up and unloaded his magazine at the blight, the magazine emptied in no time but he kept the trigger held down.

“Maverick!” I said as I walked over to him carefully, placing my hand on his rifle. I tried to put myself in his line of sight. Firing into that blight was doing nothing. “Mav, please just… lower your weapon. There's nothing we can do, we… we just have to hope he's strong enough to survive whatever is in there.” He slowly lowered his rifle.

“But… but he's gone Storm, I don't want to lose my best friend to Oryx.” As his anger passed it was replaced with sadness, and his body language showed it. His shoulders slumped and his arms dropped to his side. “Storm I can't lose him, he's one of the only friends I have left.”

“I know Mav, we just have to wait,” I said as I walked him over to a rock and sat down. I sat down next to him, clutching onto his hands, trying to comfort him, but I felt utterly useless. It felt like hours past when it was only minutes when Skinner was dropped in front of us.

“Skinner!” Maverick yelled as he jumped up to help him stand. “What happened in there? What did he do?” No damage to his armor, but he was out of ammo and his knife was missing. He must have tried to fight whatever was in there.

He looked up at us and he was visibly shaken. “He…” Skinner swallowed, “he showed me my true fear and doubts. Mav he's trying to break our wills, so we would be easier to take. Our strong wills and our Light makes it impossible for him to take us.”

“What? How?” He asked, but before he could get an answer, the Taken energy surrounded him and he was gone. I screamed his name and ran towards the blight, but Skinner grabbed my arms and held me back.

“Storm, stop!” He shouted, holding me tightly as I collapsed to my knees. “There… There’s nothing we can do. Mav’s strong, he’ll be fine.”

“No… no…” I could feel myself trembling as Skinner hugged me tightly. “Skinner… what did you see?”

He was quiet for a long time before he responded. “Betrayal.” He mumbled quietly. “Getting killed by my own team, getting killed by you… Betrayal is the worst when it comes from someone close to you.”

I looked at him, then at the blight. “We need to get in there,” I said quietly. “I know Maverick’s strong, but there is only so much we can take before…”

“I know.”

There is only so much pain, so much trauma we can take before we break.

“Skinner… can you do me a favor?”

“Hmm?”

I took his hand and placed my Ghost in it, and the both of them looked at me suspiciously. “Keep her safe.”

“Why?”

“Just… just a bad feeling. I’m going to be next, I know… But in case anything happens to me in there, I don’t want Oryx getting a hold of my Ghost.”

“But if you don’t have your Ghost—”

Just then, Maverick appeared back in the room, standing tall, his rocket settled on his shoulder. He whipped around as he realized that he was no longer standing in the blight. Skinner let me go, tucked my Ghost into his vest, and walked over to him, his hands on Maverick’s shoulders before the two of them hugged tightly.

“You’re okay…” Skinner muttered.

“He showed me our fireteam,” Mav said quietly. “I wouldn’t let him break me. He sees into our minds, if we don’t kill him, he will keep trying to break us, one by one.”

But just as Maverick turned to face me, still on my knees, I watched the two of them get surrounded by the Taken energy and disappear. “No!” I shouted. I stood to my feet and started to run towards that blight, but the same energy surrounded me and I was teleported into darkness. I stood and turned around wildly. I wasn’t sure where I was. But the darkness was cold and my skin crawled as if something was touching me, prodding at my mind. I pulled off my helmet and tossed it aside, and clutched tightly onto my head.

I tried to block him out.

“You are weak,” Oryx’s voice echoed all around me. “You could not save them.”

When I turned around, Gilly’s and Adam’s bodies were lying on the ground. I felt my skin crawl at the sight of them, especially since I could see Adam’s face. “You can’t break me!” I screamed into the darkness. My voice betrayed me and cracked with fear. He knew everything. I could feel his presence like tendrils pressing against my consciousness. I tried to push him out, to ignore his presence, but it was still there, still pushing against me. Any energy I could muster up to resist was being drained immediately.

“You let your grief consume you. You are a shell of who you were.”

“I am not weak!”

“You have nothing left.”

“I have my team!” I kept spinning in circles, watching, waiting for Oryx to show himself to me. But then I saw it, and I froze. My blood ran cold. “That… that… can’t be.” On the ground were the torn up Titan Mark and Hunter Cloak that Maverick and Skinner were wearing. I ran over and picked them up, and sure enough they were real. Tears spilled over onto my cheeks. “No, they can’t be…” I collapsed to my knees. “They can’t be…”

“They have fallen, another team you could not save.”

“Why?!” I screamed into the dark abyss. I could feel my heart breaking, all of the walls around me were crumbling. I could feel Oryx prodding at my mind, but I couldn’t fight him anymore. Without my Ghost, I was barely holding onto the Light that I had left. I pulled off my helmet because I could barely breathe over the lump in my throat. I couldn’t stop shaking and I clutched Maverick’s mark to my chest. “Mon chérie, je suis désolé. Je t'ai manqué. Je t'ai laissé tomber. Pardonne-moi. Pardonne-moi…”* I raised my eyes, and there he was. Oryx loomed over me. I reached for my gun, but I could barely hold it straight.

For the first time in my years as a Guardian, I felt truly afraid.

More afraid than I had felt on Phobos.

I stood shakily to my feet and backed away from him slowly. “Je ne vais pas casser,”** I spat out, like a curse.

“Why let your grief consume you?” Oryx’s voice sounded... oddly soothing. I mentally shook myself and tightened my grip on my gun. I tried so hard to hold it steady. “Why fight for the Sky, when the Sky gives nothing to you?”

Oryx continued to move towards me, the flap of his bat-like wings knocked me back. Every time I was knocked back, I pushed myself back onto my feet, but each time it was harder to stand than the last. “Lay down your grief and your struggle, survivor of Phobos.” He reached his hand out towards me, and I looked at the taken energy in his claws. “Let my Will set you free!”

I screamed loudly as my body was enveloped by pain. I could see the Taken energy that started at my chest and spread outwards. It felt like my soul was being ripped from my body. It felt like my blood was freezing as the corruption spread, but I couldn’t fight it. I didn’t have the willpower or the strength. I fell on my knees and clutched my chest.

“Arrête ça!” I screamed. “Arrête ça!”***

When the corruption finished spreading and Oryx picked me up by my throat, I only had a small, weak grasp left on my consciousness and my Light. I didn’t even fight him. When he let me go I collapsed to the ground. When I looked up I saw that I was no longer surrounded by darkness, but instead surrounded by mist. There was an urge in me, something primal and unfamiliar.

An urge to kill, an urge to feed.

—————

You are a Guardian, Oryx’s voice echoed in my head. Chosen from the dead by one of the Traveler’s Ghosts, you are a warrior forged in Light, a final hope in a universe falling into Darkness.

You have been Taken.

Put down your sniper, lay down your sword, let go of your Light. Your purpose is no longer to defend. Give them pain. There is Magic for you, and a Knife imbued with it. Give them their end. You are judge, jury, and executioner. Take up the knife and use it.

Take your new shape.

—————

I started to stand slowly. There was a knife in my hand, the blade glowing white. My hands and arms were filled with starlight. This isn’t right, I thought to myself. This isn’t you, Genesis. You are Genesis Page, you are a warrior, you can fight—

Oryx’s voice became louder and broke my train of thought. Deliver their pain. Deliver their end! Let my Will set you free!

“Genesis, no!”

I whipped around and ran towards the sound. I didn’t even think. I saw two figures in front of me, two targets, two Light Warriors to end. I raised the knife, but the one in front of me was a Hunter, quick and stealthy, he was strong and held my wrist in the air. I punched him in the gut, making him flinch and let me go, but he dodged backwards before I could land a blow. The two of them wrestled me to the ground and I screamed in pain as the Titan knelt down on top of me, pinning my arm to the ground with his hand and his knee dug into my chest. The Hunter held my other arm down and ripped the knife out of my hand. I gazed up at the Titan as he pulled off his helmet and then pressed one of his hands down on my shoulder.

“Angel,” he said. His voice sounded so familiar. “Angel, I know you’re in there.”

Kill them. Kill them!

I tried to move and look away from him, but his hands moved my face back to him and he held my face in place. Since he let go of my arm, I reached up, but I couldn’t reach for his throat, I could only push back on his shoulder. “Angel, it’s Maverick! Fight him! Fight!”

I felt something in me click, like a switch turning. I blinked rapidly and my heart thumped painfully in my throat. “What?” My own voice sounded foreign and distorted. My grip on his shoulder weakened.

“Maverick. It’s Maverick, you know me! Do you remember Venus? And Detroit? What about last night? Do you know me?”

“I— I—” Before I could say anything, I felt a flash of pain over my entire body, like the corruption was spreading further and deeper into me, and I squeezed my eyes shut and screamed.

“Her Ghost, Skinner, now!”

All of a sudden, a bit of my strength returned and my eyes shot open. In one final attempt to break free, I pushed them off of me, scrambled away from the two of them, grabbed the knife that Oryx had gifted me, and drove it through my stomach.

---translations---

* “My sweetheart, I’m sorry. I failed you. I let you down. Forgive me... forgive me...”

** “I will not break.”

*** “Stop it!” I screamed. “Stop it!”

#a tale of two guardians fic #destined pt 1 #destiny #destiny the taken king #the taken king #destiny fic #destiny fanfiction #star's writing #oryx #destiny warlock #destiny titan #destiny hunter #destiny hive #destiny taken

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lumi-klovstad-games · 5 years ago

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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.

#ramses-17 #ramses 17 #destiny #destiny 2 #destiny the game #my guardian #The Guardian #my guardians #guardian #destiny guardian #fanfic #kaya-sei #kaya sei #reena feng #reena #writing prompt

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thedistantstorm · 6 years ago

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20; you look amazing tonight

Revel

Really, this was meant to be lighthearted, short and sweet, but then I suddenly got into Vanguard dynamics and Ikora’s love life, so this turned into six pages of emotional hell.

Ikora prides herself on attention to detail. She can tell someone how many people are in a room, which ones are involved, who hates each other, their ticks and their tells. It’s simple to her, really.

Which is why it’s glaringly obvious when someone close to her is acting strangely, even when they might not see it themselves.

“We made a promise,” Ikora finally says, as lightly as she remembers how, when Zavala loses his train of thought for the fourth time in ten minutes. “Did you not take it seriously?”

That shocks the man beside her back to attention. “Of course I did!” He replies defensively.

They’re leaning against the railing overlooking the main drag of the Tower, side by side. It’s part of their agreement to spend more time together - both in public and in private. Repairing the damage to their relationship isn’t an easy fix. It takes time, plenty of further arguments, and a lot of dedication (both to themselves and each other).

Beneath them, there are flower petals dancing in the air, lanterns lit in a whimsical display. The Revelry celebration is in full swing. It’s beautiful, it really is. Ikora finds herself enjoying it far more than she had the last Dawning.

“We agreed,” Ikora murmurs, leaning against his arm in a friendly display, “That the only way we would be able to continue in our positions would be if we committed to do things for our own happiness, as well.”

The Commander looks down at her, brow furrowing. “I don’t understand.”

“You should go talk to her. Hawthorne.” Zavala flinches, and Ikora’s lips thin. She does not take her eyes off the hooded woman in the crowd, the one that’s unknowingly taken Zavala’s attention from the moment she came up from the Hangar. “I see how you look at her.”

“Ikora-”

“I don’t want to hear it. We agreed.”

He sighs. “I doubt she’ll speak to me. I was not very… cordial, the last time we spoke.” Well, he was cordial, he supposed, but there’s no cordial way to put an end to a budding relationship when the other party is railing against you.

“Cordial or otherwise, you’re making this far more difficult than it needs to be. Go down there,” She gestures to the main strip of the Tower, adorned in pastels and gold-tones, “And just say hello.”

“And what about you?”

Ikora does not shrug, but she insists, “Don’t worry about me.”

Zavala turns on her. “That isn’t how this works.”

“I don’t have a love interest.”

“Shun-”

“Is very happy with his new partner. He’s planning to propose to her, last I heard. I’m happy for them.”

The Commander scrutinizes her carefully, checking for any sign of emotional distress on her person, before murmuring, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. We had our differences and things have been over between us for a long time. I need to focus on making myself happy, before I can hope find happiness to share with someone else.” She smiles gently, golden eyes smarting. “I’ll be alright. Go.”

“There is no conceivable way she’ll entertain a discussion that isn’t strictly business with me.” He curls his lower lip. “I am sure she has long since given up on me. It’s been months.”

Ikora rolls her eyes. Never did she think she’d see the day that she gave him a pep talk. “If I know one thing about Suraya Hawthorne, it’s that she doesn’t give up. Not on anything, and certainly not on anyone.”

“But-”

She levels him with her trademark stare. “Zavala. We don’t get moments like these often. Go get her.”

He sighs quite a bit when he’s frustrated. “What do I say? I’m sorry I broke up with you? It sounds… rather cringe-worthy.”

“Well,” Ikora deadpans, “It might not hurt. Try telling her she looks good. That’s what Cayde always used to do.”

He relents to the severity of her gaze, shoulder curling downward just a touch. She’s trying for him, and he knows it. He has to make an effort, even if he knows there’s little point. “I will make an attempt. Do not be surprised when I join you after she shoots me down.”

Two dark hands brace his shoulders. Ikora’s voice is encouraging. “Just try, Zavala. I’m sure she won’t.”

“Hawthorne.”

She turns, her normally wide eyes narrowing on him as he weaves through a pair of surprised - though not enough to stop gyrating - Hunters to get to her.

“Whatcha need, Commander?” Maybe he should have called her Suraya, he thinks to himself. He should have called her Suraya. It would have set the tone, told her that he didn’t intend to be so formal.

“I-” He frowns. He can’t just start the conversation over. His eyes dart to the left and up, slightly. Ikora is watching him intently. If he doesn’t try, she’ll send him tight back down and tell him he’s not taking their agreement seriously.

She taps her foot impatiently, not that it’s heard over the throng of partying Guardians. “Okay, if you don’t need anything, I’m gonna go.”

“You look-”

Her face changes from something familiar - he can handle her usual glower, that protective emotional armor she dons - to something darker. She reigns it in quickly enough, but he cannot unsee the hurt that crosses her face, just as stark and raw as the day he’d told her he would not pursue her, that their interaction was a dalliance he could not afford with things going to hell the way they had.

“I swear to the Traveler if you’re about to tell me I look beautiful, Zavala, I’m going to punch you.” Idiot, he thinks. She always hated canned lines.

He holds out both hands, but she’s already scrutinizing him. She sees through him every time, she always has. “I would have used a different adjective,” He admits, subdued. “Amazing, perhaps.”

She lifts her arms slightly, then drops them back to her sides, her poncho making a very small, rippling flap. “This is what I wear every day,” She grouses, picking at a pull on her sleeve.

“Even so,” He says earnestly.

That dark, defensive look stays in her eyes, but she bites her lip, warring with herself. He deserves this, he thinks, chest constricting at the sight of her nervous reaction. He’ll weather it if he must. “Flattering me isn’t going to get you anywhere, Zavala.”

His lips thin, and he frowns. “I know it won’t-”

She interrupts him, scoffing, “So why bother?”

“I don’t-” He sighs, deflating. He might as well give her the truth. “I wasn’t going to come down here.”

Her arms cross over her chest at the realization that he’s been put up to this. The last bit of warmth leaves her steady gaze. “Then go.”

“That isn’t-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” He hears it in her voice. That little, barely a few pitches higher tone, the one that says she’s not going to burst into tears, but he’s definitely pushing her close. She turns on her heels, calling over her shoulder in that same upset tone, “Enjoy the Revelry, Commander.”

“Suraya, wait!”

He can see the tell-tale shake of her head through her hood as she slips easily between the Guardians all around. Casting a glance up at Ikora, he watches the Warlock make a shooing gesture.

Go after her, it feels like Ikora is saying to him with that wide, intense stare.

And say what? He frowns, though he follows after the other woman, anyway. None of it says enough. There are no words that could adequately express his regret, his desires, his intentions. None, at least, that will be quick enough to reasonably convey.

So single-minded is his focus that he does not realize where she’s going until he sees her come to a stop beside Ikora, where he’d been standing maybe ten, fifteen minutes before.

The crowd is loud, but he can hear the Clan Steward loud and clear. “Why did you put him up to this? It’s not - I don’t appreciate other people getting involved in my personal affairs.”

To her credit, Ikora does not look over Suraya’s shoulder to make eye contact, but Zavala knows she acutely knows he’s there. Just like he now knows that two second glance he’d given Ikora earlier was enough to tip Hawthorne off. It’s the price of dealing with intelligent, powerful women.

The Warlock tips her head, her gaze serious. “If you must know, I decided that he would be better suited pursuing you, rather than pining after you all night.”

“Stay out of it. He doesn’t - I’m not like you,” Hawthorne finally admits. “I don’t have centuries. I can’t do this every time someone we care about dies.”

Her golden eyes narrow, darkening with something less kind. “Hawthorne, I’m not having this discussion with you. Talk to Zavala, or don’t. This isn’t my place.”

The mortal woman nods, but presses, “Don’t put him up to this again.”

“You have my word.”

Suraya bumps her fist on the railing. It’s clear the conversation is over. “Thank you.”

She turns, and Zavala is standing there, doing his best not to look like he’s been eavesdropping. It’s not effective in the slightest. A quick glance behind her tells Suraya that Ikora has turned away, under the guise of giving them privacy. Her vision blurs ever so slightly. It’s all too much.

“Not now, okay?”

“Just hear me out. Please.”

“No.”

He reaches out and braces both her shoulders. “Suraya, what do I have to do?”

She sniffs, crossing her arms, and a tiny trail from a singular tear dissects one of the circle tattoos beneath her left eye. She holds herself tight, as if that’s all that’s keeping her together.

“I’m not doing this with you,” She finally says, though it lacks that tough edge she’s known for. “You heard what I said to Ikora.”

“I did.”

She dips her head, though it shakes left to right and back as well. “How do you not get this? This - we have to mean enough for you to not throw it away when things are difficult. And they will be. I’m going to age. I’m going to die. There’s no way around it.” Her dark eyes lock onto him. “This is a whole different kind of commitment, Zavala. I don’t fault you for not wanting it. I really don’t. I won’t have you step back into this lightly.”

“I would not.” He exhales each metered breath carefully. How does he show her? “I want this, Suraya. I want you.”

She squeezes her arms hard, hugging herself tight. “I know,” She whispers. “But-”

“This is not some frivolous undertaking, not something I have given no thought. You deserve-” He frowns, holding her gaze as she looks at him. Her tawny eyes unfurl with that hopeful desperation: pleading him to prove her wrong just one time more.

Around them, a few onlookers - nosy Guardians, the lot of them - chatter, looking casually disinterested in what’s going on. There are people all around them, some dancing, shouting, singing, carrying on in some manner of celebration. He takes a deep breath.

Like Ikora said, they have to commit to their own happiness, too.

Zavala reaches for her face, fingers carefully sliding beneath the protective cover of her hood to brush against her skin, and in the same breath takes the step that separates them and presses his lips to hers.

Eyes sliding shut, she whimpers into it: into the tenderness of the thing, her arms falling away from around her and wrapping around his forearms, pulling him closer. The wild cat-calls and incredulous shouting-cheering-yelling that erupts around them is drown out by the frantic staccato of their heartbeats. He pulls back to look at her, to confirm he hasn’t just made a terrible mistake, but, not to be outdone, she latches one hand firmly over his breastplate and pulls him right back as if she couldn’t get enough.

Someone nearby turns up the music and the singing and dancing follows. The revelling carries on, the spectacle beside her not drawing interest for long. Ikora tips her head to the side, regardless. She hadn’t expected him to go for it right here, in the middle of the Tower. And certainly not half as arduously. It’s not a bad look for him, she can’t help but think.

She shakes her head as two small hands creep around her comrade’s back, the Clan Steward clearly pushing herself into him for a hug. Overkill or not - this wasn’t the sort of thing you could take back, considering the number of witnesses - it clearly worked.

A nudge at her side jolts her. “Looks like you’ve lost your company for the evening,” A familiar voice calls.

“So it seems,” She says, turning the other way to see the other trademark Titan of the Tower standing tall beside the rail. “What’re you doing caught up in this madness?”

“I hear there’s a lovely tonic that Eva’s been doling out. Something about good moods - been creating a great deal of mischief in the Crucible. Care to help me test it out?”

She looks over her shoulder. Zavala’s turned toward her, his luminous blue eyes brighter than she can recall in ages. He dips his head in a nearly imperceptible nod.

“Against you?” Shaxx grins, beneath his helmet. Ikora can practically feel the man’s glee though she cannot see it sparking in his eyes. She smirks, her eyebrows rising and falling, indicative of a challenge accepted. “I suppose I could be persuaded.”

Shaxx puts a large palm on her shoulder, wrapping his arm up and around her back, steering her away from the malady of colors, lights, and mayhem all around. It’s warm and familiar, the scent of heavy ammo, of gun oil and smoke.

Ikora isn’t sure what her picture of happiness looks like - it’s been too long, she’s trying to get to know herself - but they have an agreement, and she’s damn sure willing to find out.

#suraya hawthorne #commander zavala #zavala x hawthorne #ikora rey #shaxx #destiny fanfiction #the revelry #askbox is open #feel free to ama about the good ship steelponcho

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im-no-jedi · 6 years ago

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Would you make more cayde plushies if people paid you? 👀

awww! I’m super flattered you’re interested in my Cayde plush so much! :DDD

honestly, if I had the time and resources to do it, I’d probably try to sell them. but as someone who used to be in the plushie making/selling business, I know how difficult it is, and I just don’t think I’d be able to make another one anytime soon. it took me several hours over the course of almost two weeks just to make that one for myself. maybe if I find a way to make a smaller, simpler version to work with? idk. but if I tried making that one I made for myself again, it would take a long time to make, and I wouldn’t skimp on the price either.

but seriously, thank you so much for showing interest! it means a lot knowing people enjoy my creations so much ^3^

#I'll see if I can come up with a simpler design #maybe try to get something put together for the holidays later this year?#no promises though!#I'm lazy af LOL #Anonymous

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jetthing · 7 years ago

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WARNING: Destiny 2 spoilers ahead...

Destiny 2 what can I say?

How many 'this is Halo reskinned' jokes have my husband and I made to date? The Pike/Ghost vehicle parallels just to start with ahaha Really though, it's a fun game, not too big on originality though. The most unique things about it seem to be the non human player species exos and awoken.

The character creation system is alright, but could be better. Take that with a grain of salt though, I almost always think those could be better. I won't go off into the nigh impossible realm of 'we could have different body types', even though a chubby exo girl would be amazing. But there could be more options. More hairstyle choices, more hair color choices. Hell, more color choices for everything would be great. Eyes and lips and skin. More types of facial markings for that matter. Why not a pale yellow for awoken? Just think of that. Gold hair and lighter gold skin-tone with vibrant orange or even aqua colored eyes would be pretty cool I think.

So what was I talking about? Oh yeah it's fun but not particularly original, with a story that many other games/books/movies have told before about a guy that wants to become god or own god or kill god or some combination of the three. In this version 'god' is in the form of some giant alien (sentient?) wandering moon called the Traveler.

The intro/tutorial is actually not one of the fun parts of the game. And it makes the writing look a bit poor as well. Fighting though the waves of enemies is grueling and difficult. There's a good chance you'll die at least once during the course of the intro which can take 45minute or more to slog through. When the 'big bad' makes his appearance he tosses you around and beats you down without so much as breaking a sweat, which would do a lot to show how powerful he is... if the rest of the intro hadn't already done a lot of that on it's own.

It makes me think of that popular vampire post where the vampire basically says "I could kill you easily" and the response is "Yeah so can a lot of other things. You're not special."

The aftermath of that though is much better, and you (or I at least) really feel for your character and their ghost when they are reunited in the wake of your initial defeat (which if you couldn't guess is the mechanism which brings you down to lvl one so you can start the 'real' game).

So! Who are you fighting in the battle against the guy who would be/control/kill god? Everyone you've ever fought before.

There's the Fallen, who are your average scavenger race of unknown origin who scour the galaxy looking for anything they can get their hands on and living underground (how that makes them good space farers I've no idea). The best comparison I can think of for them are the tunnel rats from Borderlands 2, with maybe some Drow thrown in?

Then there are the Cabal, the 'we're conquering everything and destroying the planets who refuse to submit' race.

The Hive, which are just like every race that has ever been called ‘the Hive’ since the beginning of things being called ‘the Hive’.

The Vex, who are 'the Hive' of machines. Or the borg, or any other machine race seeking to turn all organic matter into machines.

And the Taken, which from what I gather are... the heartless? Or maybe a cross between heartless and nobodies? They're black and twitchy and they move in short weird bursts.

So you go around and shoot things, and it's simple fun for the most part. At least in a casual sense. There are quests you can take involving the game's overarching plot-line but since the story hasn't done a good job of grabbing me I haven't done many of those beyond what I need to do to unlock other locations. They all generally follow the formula of 'go to a location and then fend of x number of waves of enemies until your ghost or an npc tells you you've succeeded'. The smaller 'adventure' quests follow the same formula, though on a less drawn out length of time.

The classes are interesting but again pretty standard in their types. You got your fighter (Titan), Thief/Assassin (Hunter), and Mage/Cleric (Mage). The execution of them is what makes them more fun than anything else about them.

There are things called public events where you and (hopefully) some other players all fight against a random enemy spawn for loot. I'm oversimplifying that, but I'm not sure how to explain it better. And there are lots of places to explore with hidden nooks and crannies. And randomly spawning chests and harvestable items are fun to look for.

One thing that I would put on my 'wishlist' for the game would be some kind of function or npc that would allow you to change your character's appearance in game. A stylist or some machine similar to Borderland's 'new you' station would be a great addition. (also, three character slots is too few for a character creating madwoman like me).

I like most the the npcs that I've met, Cayde is great in that Peter Quill/Axton/other snarky one-liner guy kind of way. And Ikora is an amazing tough and powerful and gorgeous female character. Failsafe is great too. About the only character I can't really get behind is Zvala, who seems (to me) to be not only 2 dimensional and a little boring, but arrogant and resistant to character growth as well. At the very least, I would have liked the fall of the Last City to have humbled him a little bit.

So there's my take on Destiny 2 that no one asked for or cares about. If you read this, I'm flattered and amazed!

Also I love the servitors. Flying machine eyeballs with purpley glow irises that make the best noises and are just the best enemies.

#long post #destiny 2 spoilers #I don't know who of my followers even cares about Destiny 2 #but whatever here it is

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cappurrccino · 8 years ago

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Keeping Watch

This is one I had an idea for a while ago but never bothered to write until I watched my sister play the Nightstalker missions again. Sort of a follow-up to It’s Called Supervising and takes place some time after Sickness and Darkness, when Lox went silent on the Dreadnaught.

[Also available on AO3]

(~1300 words)

The first time it happened, both of them were caught by surprise. The heavy and warm air of the Ishtar Sink combined with the incessant patter of rain on the roof of the abandoned building and managed to lull Lox into a doze. The Venusian rains had finally gotten on her nerves and she temporarily abandoned her mission to hole up in one of the many shelled out buildings along the coast, hoping break in the weather.

Her Ghost, usually a stickler for staying on track during patrols, had decided to let her sleep instead of pestering her back out into the rain. Vex and Fallen hadn’t been in the area for weeks and it was a rare occurrence for Lox to get genuine sleep. The patrols weren’t the highest priority, so he kept a quiet watch and let her be.

“Cayde!”

The sudden connection of a channel from the Vanguard startled him and his verbal outburst woke Lox up. She was half on her feet, rifle in hand, before she was fully awake. A beat passed as she assessed the area and realized there were no enemies before she looked at her Ghost. He twirled his tines sheepishly as Cayde addressed them.

“Ah, um. Sorry to… startle you?”

The Vanguard had an odd tone and Lox upturned a palm at her Ghost; he tilted side to side in a shrug.

“Did you need something, Cayde?” Lox asked.

“No, no. Well, yes. Kind of. Noticed you hadn’t moved or checked in in a while and uh… just wanted to make sure everything was ok.”

“All good. Boring, but we’re fine.”

“Right.”

Cayde hadn’t closed the connection.

“Um… did you need something else?”

There was a beat of awkward silence. “Just… be careful out there, Hunter.” The channel closed, leaving a slightly baffled Lox to finish her patrol.

It happened again a few weeks later on Mars. She was patrolling close to the massive gate that marked the entrance to the Black Garden and was in a shouting match with a Centurion when Cayde silently connected. She wouldn’t have noticed except for the small blinking light at the corner of her visor that indicated the open comms. Lox ducked down behind a rock, an exhilarated grin plastered on her face.

“Cayde. Hi. What can I do for you?”

“You sound far too happy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I would never be happy doing an energy reading patrol for Ikora.” Several slugs exploded into the rock she was sitting behind and the Centurion bellowed in the distance.

Cayde clearly heard the explosions, if not the angry shouting that followed. “Uh, Hunter?”

“One sec,” Lox said.

She spun around and poked her head over the top of the rock and yelled back, external speakers in her helmet carrying the challenge across the sand to the already outraged Cabal. A grunt escaped her as she threw herself to the ground, narrowly avoiding the new volley of shots aimed at her head.

She giggled and then cleared her throat. “Sorry, continue.”

“I was just going to ask for an update to pass to Ikora, but now I think I should monitor this situation – as your Vanguard. Make sure you stay out of trouble.”

Lox snorted. “I’m always out of trouble.” Another volley of missiles slammed into her rock and sent up a cloud of sand.

“Of course.” It sounded almost like Cayde laughed before he held a muffled conversation with someone else. “Right. Ikora wants those readings, so get back to work.”

Lox rolled her eyes and Cayde added, in a quick whisper, “500 glimmer says you can’t get that Centurion to shoot his own soldiers.”

“Cayde,” her Ghost said flatly.

“You’re about to lose 500 glimmer, old man.”

Time passed and Cayde opening comms for no particular reason became a regular part of their patrols. It seemed to happen most often when Lox was on Venus or got close to any known entrance to the Black Garden, but the Vanguard had popped in several times while she was on Earth and once while she was on the Dreadnaught. He almost never had anything to say related to the mission – usually just odd comments on the happenings, or bets that she couldn’t do something, or he would just quietly observe what she was doing.

Finally, during a stalled Venus patrol, she decided she wanted an explanation.

She sat under the large statue on the coastline, sheltered from the storm that raged overhead. The Fallen forces who usually fought anyone who came near were hiding in the nearby buildings, chased inside by the same weather that had driven her to duck into her improvised shelter. They’d long been off her radar and her attention focused on the driving rain and loud cracks of thunder and lightning as it lit up the sky and the nearby volcano.

“Do you watch every Hunter on patrol?” There was a muffled shuffling, but no real answer, so she continued. “Must take up a lot of time.”

Cayde’s response was somewhere between a challenge and a dodge. “I know how to manage my time, Hunter.”

“That’s not an answer.”

She got a noncommittal noise in return. Lightning crackled through the clouds overhead and she let the thunder echo out before trying to speak again.

“I’m just going to keep asking. Don’t have much else to do right now, and neither do you if my clock’s right.”

Cayde made a noise that came through as frustrated static and Lox’s mouth ticked up into a grin.

“I don’t watch everyone,” he said. “Just the troublemakers.”

“Flatterer.”

A half-hearted huff of laughter. “You’re a good Hunter, but you’ve got a knack for getting into some dangerous messes. I just want to make sure if you need backup I can send it on time.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

Oh… The Garden. Her Ghost stirred and jumped into the channel. “Did you watch Tevis?”

Uncomfortable silence stretched on and Lox swiped a hand through the air over her shoulder in half-hearted reprimand. She hadn’t even thought of that, but her Ghost’s observation made sense – Cayde starting this only after she took up the bow; Cayde contacting them most frequently around the Black Garden.

“I…” Cayde sighed and she could easily imagine him running a hand over his face. “I did. He thought it was the funniest thing I lost the dare. Started showing me clips from his patrols to rub it in my face he was in the field and I wasn’t.”

Lox held up a finger to tell her Ghost not to interrupt. Cayde almost never spoke like this and she didn’t want to stop him.

“Eventually it just became a thing we did – I could tune in anytime and he just let it go. Certain missions he’d tell me to stay off so he could focus and, uh… his Venus mission was one of those. By the time I realized and you got out there…”

There was a heavy silence cut only by a rumble of thunder.

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Another huff of laughter, this time a little bitter. “I suppose I should be apologizing to you. Shouldn’t have started treating you like you were him.”

Lox hummed quietly. “’s fine.”

Silence fell again. The storm picked up again and the wind howled around the statue’s base, driving rain nearly horizontal as thunder clapped loud enough for her helmet to compensate for the volume.

“I just love the weather on Venus. Truly gorgeous,” she deadpanned.

Cayde snorted and she heard a muffled call from somewhere on his end.

“Ah, damn… Zavala wants to have a Talk,” he said. “Stay alert out there.”

“Sure.”

“And you better clean your damn boots before you get back.”

#destiny #i wrote a thing #oc: lox #all of cayde's friends keep dying and i feel like he needs at least one

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thedistantstorm · 6 years ago

Text

A Steelponcho Dawning - Part 18 (finale)

A Dawning romance featuring the Commander and the Clan Steward, their feelings for each other coming to a head during the first Dawning celebration following the Red War. Featuring Lord Saladin, city food, a little bit of smut, and a whole lot of pining. Continues from: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17.

Thank you for reading. yes, you.

It's snowing the next morning when she wakes up and carefully detangles herself from the exhausted Commander. She closes the bedroom door behind her and pads quietly into the kitchen to prepare some caffeine, noting that ice and snow have stuck to the kitchen window. A check of her tablet indicates it's likely to continue most of the day, and with the weather similarly terrible in the EDZ, any chances they have of being called to help out with strikes are dashed. Looks like their day, barring further emergencies, will be entirely free.

She skips putting on pants in lieu of throwing the blanket from the back of the couch over her bare legs and snuggling into it while she drinks her coffee and attempts to sort out some more of the Farm’s budget.

A flicker from her peripheral gets her attention. When she gazes over, there's a whirling chitter that can only mean a Ghost. Thankfully, the pristine white shell confirms that it is Zavala's partner and not Sundance. A surprise appearance from Cayde's ghost is something she'd never live down.

The Ghost flutters elegantly from her originating point to sway directly in front of Hawthorne.

“Hello,” The little AI says, demurely enough.

“Hi,” Suraya replies. They stare at each other. Time passes.

“You've been around a lot, lately.” The Ghost comments eventually. Her voice is very soft. “Are you, um, moving in?”

Suraya blushes and stammers, “What?!”

The sharp tone of her voice causes his Ghost to flit over and behind the opposing end of the couch. She peeks up and over the arm, and cowers again when Suraya is staring at her as she emerges.

“Oh!” Suraya sets aside her tablet. “Wait,” She lowers her voice. “I didn't mean to frighten you,” She murmurs, legs shifting under the blanket. Zavala had told her once that his ghost was a bit of an introvert, and that she only really hung around in the open when necessary or extremely bored. Seems neither of them really know what to say, or are good at meeting new people. She sighs. “I'm sorry.”

A single white fin with an orange clip and the tippy-top of an optic peers at her from the other end of the sofa. “I'm shy,” She says, child-like, as if that should explain everything.

Suraya giggles at her very adorable chattering of the obvious. “I think you're cute,” She offers instead of commenting on her demeanor. “What's your name?”

“A-adelaide,” She whispers, but does not come out, not yet. “Zavala calls me Addy,” She says when she finally emerges from hiding, in the sweetest, proudest little tone Suraya has ever heard.

It's almost noon before Zavala wakes, and when he does, it's blissfully silent in his bedroom. How well-rested he is surprises him, and when he rolls onto his back, there is no mistaking that he's been alone in the bed for hours. Her side of the bed has long since gone cold. He does not dwell long on the place that he's assigned her. It should give him pause, he thinks, and yet it does not.

By the time he rises, another half hour has gone by - quite a lie-in for him, he thinks, and when he leaves the bedroom, he edges the door open to hear tiny peals of laughter.

“You didn't!” His Ghost is chiming in her child-like voice. “No way!”

“I did,” Suraya's voice carries down the hall. “Broke his nose, too.”

“That's bad,” The reply comes, immediately. Adelaide has a rather similar moral code to his own, “But it sounds like he deserved it. I don't trust him.”

“Me neither. Good thing Zavala has you to look out for him.”

“Yeah,” His little Light says. And then, “Oh, you might want to revise that bit about expenditures.” There's a brief silence before she continues. “The Consensus always tears that stuff apart so make sure you go into detail about the allocation of resources. Zavala uses percentages so they're too busy doing the math to argue with him.”

His girls laugh together, and Zavala's heart feels unbearably, overwhelmingly full.

The sight that greets him in the living room is something. Suraya is laying on her belly, on the couch, toned legs bent, feet in the air kicking back and forth. Adelaide hovers over her shoulder, far less timid than he's expected, clearly reading whatever documents she's going over.

He clears his throat and both turn to regard him warily, as if they've been caught doing something they shouldn't have. “What do we have here,” He queries, his eyes twinkling.

“Addy and I are working. Not all of us can lay in bed all day,” Suraya says. Adelaide's cones twitch in a silent laugh before she hovers over to her Guardian.

Zavala hums at his Ghost, which she takes as approval, before saying to Suraya, “Do you often work in so little clothing?”

“Do you mind?” She asks back.

He slides a hand up the back of one of her calves, withdrawing as it rides higher up on her thigh. “Hardly,” The Commander murmurs appreciatively.

Adelaide takes the hint, zooming over to nudge the side of Suraya's face before shivering into warm motes of light. Suraya sets down her pen, puts her tablet on the coffee table. “I don't suppose you'd like to go back to bed,” She asks him.

His brows furrow. “Are you tired?”

She looks amused when he blinks at her in worry. She wets her lips and smiles. “Not in the slightest.”

Their conversation, when they finally get to it, is held in the bedroom. Suraya lays gloriously bare, unwrapped like a Dawning gift atop the sheets. Her nudity does not bother her. It does bother Zavala, however, as the sight of lean muscle and tawny skin, dusky budded nipples, and a handful of scattered scars demand his attention. He forces himself to look away, displeased at how distracted this all makes him. Perhaps it was her fault, he reasons, considering she was the one who pushed herself up onto all fours to get off the couch, giving him perfect sightlines under her baggy t-shirt. Partially his fault for finally kissing her, he supposes, but that was so long overdue he didn't really think it counted.

“You went through the effort to get me undress-”

“You were hardly wearing anything to begin with,’ Zavala reminds her. “Siren,” He adds for good measure.

She shrugs and drags a finger up his abdomen, following a fractal pattern under his skin. He gasps when her finger skirts around his nipple. “So, since you're bordering on impatient, and we already know I'm willing,” She slides her curtain of ebony-ink hair over her back so that it's out of the way. “Feelings. We should talk about them,” Her finger is joined by the rest of her palm in sliding back down coiled muscle. He shudders when she reaches his navel, hand smoothing over the waistband of his pants. His hips jerk. It's flattering.

His eyes close when her thumb tucks under the waistband, anticipation heady in the air. “Suraya, if you keep touching me like this, there's not going to be-”

“Then tell me you love me too and let's get on with it. We've been dancing around this long enough.”

She always has a way of being most confident at the strangest times. Like now, propped on an elbow, bare-ass naked beside him, confessing her feelings as if it's the easiest thing she'll do all day. “That simple, is it?”

“Obviously not,” She shrugs. “Love doesn't change the fact that I won't live forever, or that we're both going to go do things that put us in danger to help others.”

“No,” He agrees, “It does not.”

“I'm not great at this mushy stuff,” Suraya admits, but Zavala thinks she's doing just fine. “We're good for each other, you know?”

He does.

“And I've thought about it, and I feel like if we want to be together, we should be.”

Zavala chuckles. “Stop trying to convince me,” He chides. She frowns until he continues, “I desire you. Mind, body, and soul.” His palm traces down her arm, to her hips and thighs before coming back up. “I’m in love with you,” he confesses, when his hand cups her cheek, thumb tucked under her chin to tilt it toward him.

Suraya beams at him. “Good. I'm in love with you, too.”

“I gathered that,” He gestures to her state of undress.

“Did you?” With the quickness of a Hunter, she's atop him. He gasps at the friction of their pelvises lining up, but it's the wicked smile she gives him that make his eyes roll back into his skull.

“I-” The sound he makes is almost a purr, and it sends liquid heat coursing south, “-Might have gotten that idea.”

The Clanswoman hums in approval, but her breathing is speeding up and thankfully the conversation has been short, sweet, and to the point. There are more urgent matters to attend to.

Namely ripping his clothes off and fucking him well into the evening.

“Normally,” He tells her, as they walk through the streets of the Last Safe City, on the last day of the Dawning, “We would have had a ball right in the middle of the Dawning. We will have to resume that tradition next year.”

She looks at him in surprise but continues moving forward, the two of them moving around people in the street like a cohesive unit, nodding politely to those who acknowledge them. “Like, with dancing and whatever?”

“If by whatever you mean a formal dinner, with dancing, refreshments, and merriment all around.”

“You know I'm not Cinderella, right?” She leans into the arm he's put around her shoulders, looking up into brilliant eyes. “Don't expect to see me spun up in taffeta and wearing heels.”

“That you know what taffeta is astounds me,” He quips.

“So I didn't know what merino is,” She yanks ever so gently on the scarf around his neck - it's a cherished gift from an old friend, and she's careful in handling it. “That doesn't mean I'm completely uneducated.”

“You've been washing your poncho incorrectly for years,” he points out, the smile extending to his lips from his eyes.

“I am so done playing the secret game with you.”

“Uh huh,” He chuckles, disbelievingly. “That's what you said when I killed that spider for you.”

“That’s because I said I hate spiders. Not to murder them on sight! And thanks to you, Cayde found out. He's got Sundance taking pictures of every one she sees and sending them to me.”

The shudder is for dramatic effect, but Zavala hadn't known that Cayde was picking on her. “I'll talk to him,” He says. “He'll stop.”

She laughs. “Yes, become the protective Titan boyfriend in front of the most romantic being in the Tower. He'll just torment you, instead.”

Zavala stops walking, and Suraya stumbles. He was holding on to her arm pretty good. She turns around to regard him with wide, dark eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Boyfriend?” The look on his face as he parses the word makes him look like he's trying to speak in tongues.

She shrugs. “Do… do Guardians call it something different?” She gestures between them. “I didn't think…” Her arms flop uselessly to her sides.

“Boyfriend feels so-”

“Manfriend sounds worse, Zavala. I don't know what you want from me here.”

He steps forward and thinks for a moment. She fiddles with her scarf, smoothing her hands down the rows of his handiwork almost reverently despite her obvious anxiety.

“Crimson Bonds.”

She blinks. “What?”

“Each year,” He says, and instead of wrapping his arms around her shoulder once more, he loops his arm through hers. “Shaxx celebrates the Crimson Days with doubles matches. The teams are meant to be made up of couples, comprised of-”

“I know what the Crimson Days are, Zavala. But more importantly, did you lose your marbles? You do remember that I can't go into the Crucible, right? That's suicide.”

“Obviously,” He huffs, mildly irked, acutely aware of her humanity. “However, to describe you as my Crimson Bond seems far more appropriate than to call you my girlfriend.” It's a wry smirk that he gives her as he says, “You are neither a girl, nor are we friends.”

“Pretty sure we're best friends,” She says easily, but the teasing tone in her voice hides something else they both agree on.

He laughs quietly in his way and drops a discreet kiss to the top of her hood. “Perhaps,” He considers, “We are much, much more.”

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