#Ir Yût

[flowers-of-io]

as grief is large among the grieving

“I do not fear death. I have already met her and walk again in the Light. I know she and I will meet again in time. Rather, I fear what she leaves behind. Loss is like the Darkness. It corrupts.”

—Toland’s Journal

CW: funerals, grief/mourning, spouse and friend loss

Read on Ao3

[scarlettnovella]

A conversation in discord resulted in this perfection

[flowers-of-io]

It's worse than that! Ir Anûk and Ir Halak are most likely still kicking as well, I mean unless acquiring their Grimoire cards is not canon and/or Bungie forgot they had their own means of hiding their deaths, but I generally don't accept "Bungie forgot" as an in-universe answer.

I don't see a way for Ir Yût not to be around, as even if she was killable in Last Rites (of which I'm not sure) it definitely wouldn't stick because she had already died in that same room and come back just fine. This also proves the theory that Ascendant Hive don't perma die if they get killed in someone else's throne world, creating a very interesting precedent for Nokris still possibly being around and making the twins' deaths all the more unlikely.

I'll be annoying and point out Ir Yût wasn't on the Dreadnaught during King's Fall, but that makes the idea of her moving into the empty ship because fuck it I guess so much funnier.

Omnigul and Ir Yût being alive in particular seem like both a wild instance of bungo just not paying that much attention to these characters, and also hugely important: Omnigul, one of the first powerful Hive the Young Wolf faced, has just been out there, growing more powerful, getting bigger and singing? She's a Will, a mother -- could be she created some of the Hive troops we've been fighting lately. She's been weighing on the YW's thoughts as a Nightmare.

Personally I think it's heavily implied Ir Yût dies during King's Fall, if only because most high-ranking Hive on the ship at that time do. But if not, she's an invaluable teacher for the teenage Deathsingers on the Moon (before Osiris puts a stop to that little chorus, of course) and also just like ... hello? Is she just haunting the ship? How does Toland feel about this? How does Eris feel about this? The two have respect and reverence for each other, but did they ever talk about how Ir Yût was the catalyst for Toland's mid-Raid death?

[alketaire]

the meditative action of writing analysis as a ritual against plagiarism

[oryx-the-nightmare-daddy]

"a little tête-à-Yût"

he blew that fucking moon wizard

[synnthamonsugar]

Hey uh I've got some bad news. Your boyfriend listened to the song of Ir Yût and learned the quiddity of death. Yeah the definition killed him. Yeah, dying redefined him. He shucked his mortal form and now he flies in the labyrinth beyond Crota’s god-star, in the Sea of Screams. Don't — don't be upset okay? Nothing has ever lived that will not die.

[cappurrccino]

all day every day i am wishing i could do as Ir Yût said... i would love to be able to bite deep through reality and eat what i find

[telestoapologist]

if Ir Yût sung an erotic love melody to Toland would you say he was answering a bootycall

[mossy-puppy]

Just spent ~10 hours on Crota's end with my raid team, we finally managed to get to Ir Yût - calling it a night and gonna come back tomorrow!

[flowers-of-io]

Savathûn! She fucked EVERYTHING up

Xivu if she were a Wizard

Oryx if he were a Wizard duh

Ir Anûk and Ir Halak

Malkanth and Ir Airâm!

Nokris

Ir Anânh <3

These two Scourges from this season

Verok <33

Omnigul my beloved

Ir Yût

"my fave did nothing wrong" oh yeah well MY fave fucked everything up and she's still my fave so

[flowers-of-io]

Yo I just replayed Last Rites and isn't it cool how Ir Yût is titled "the Deathsinger" and she just floats around that small side chamber restlessly instead of singing the dirge with the rest of the crowd? Keeping vigil when you're too choked up to sing. Can relate #funeraryswag

[ahungeringknife]

365: May 17

Crota's Throne World was decadent as far as abodes were concerned. The light of his own Oversoul illuminated everything within it, an unflinching eye that gazed upon all who dared enter it. Great towers pierced the Ascendant Realm and moths and crystal decorated every nook and cranny.

Normally the Prince of the Hive dealt with matters of his greater swarm in his antichamber but tonight was... a bit more personal. It wasn't every century one of his precious daughters proclaimed to have found someone worthy of her attention.

Crota was not amused by the thing Kinox brought before him and Omnigul. Kinox was not the youngest of her sisters but stuck in the middle she was always eager to please, vying for favor from her perfect elders or her cherished younger. Besurith was the only other to take a consort and Crota knew Kinox looked up to her immensely, always trying to emulate her.

But this was a poor imitation of Besurith's ability.

Omnigul hung off his arm like a perching bird, her searing blue-white eyes boring down onto their daughter and the unflinching worm she had brought before them. He knew given the chance she'd cut the thing off at the throat. He could feel her discontentment in the way her claws scraped against the chitin of his arm, the restless rasping of her breathing.

It wasn't even uncharitable. Crota expected much of his children as Oryx did of him. So to say he felt great... disappointment when his beloved Kinox presented an acolyte was no small choice of words. An acolyte? For his daughter? It meant he was barely even grown.

"Daughter, what is the meaning of this?" Crota asked.

"A meaning of my heart, father," Kinox said clearly. "This is Noornoon," she indicated with a held out claw. He kept his eyes down out of respect, dutifully not meeting the eyes of the Prince and his consort. "And I am to take him as mine."

"Absolutely not," Omnigul hissed, raising herself up some.

"I do not ask for permission," Kinox growled right back.

"And you will find his head on your lap by night's end," Omnigul floated down from his arm.

"Then you will have one less daughter," Kinox said proudly, sternly, meeting her mother's gaze with her own eye-less visage. "I will take him or have no other and may my brood lay barren eternal."

Omnigul snatched their daughter by the throat. "Watch the words you speak, darling child," she said. He understood her wrath. Omnigul had scarified endless opportunities to be by Crota's side in the end to only become a mother. Omnigul was no mother either. She'd earned her teeth and her eyes in battle and her claws were soaked in blood enough to satisfy her worm long before she claimed a sizable tribute. To have one of their daughters throw it away for an Acolyte. It enraged her.

"Omnigul," Crota said, distracting her. "Release her."

"Crota-" but she did, furious, at Crota's level stare. She glared at him and then flew off to go be enraged elsewhere. He had a feeling he'd have Ir Yût's claws in his spine for this later.

Kinox rubbed her neck where her mother had almost strangled her. She did not begrudge her either. She knew her anger was only out of love, of wanting the best for her. "Kinox," Crota said in a more measured way than his consort, "this is an Acolyte."

"Yes," she said.

"Explain to me, my daughter."

She flew up to be eye level with him. "You know Besurith's consort," she said, he nodded slowly. "Yes, of course. So does everyone else. Zoken cannot make a move without anyone important within the swarm knowing what he does. His blade is dangerous and his power substantial. Zoken is a great warrior who draws the eyes of all who behold him as is fitting of Besurith who wishes to emulate Xivu Arath in all her great victories for the Hive." Crota made an agreeable noise. Yes Besurith did try to emulate her great aunt Xivu Arath and Zoken was indeed a mighty warrior. Loss of his tithe would not go unnoticed if something were to happen to Zoken even before he became joined with Besurith. "I am no warrior and I do not seek to emulate Xivu Arath. Rather my worm seeks satisfaction in knowing more and seeks to emulate Savathun. Knowing the secrets of my sisters and brothers keep my worm well fed but soon it will not. I need to know what I don't know. I need to be unseen, to find all the empty spaces in the swarm and learn their secrets as well. But how will I do such a thing when I am your child?"

"Get to your point, daughter," Crota said but not unkindly.

"Noornoon has not taken a morph by my desire," she said simply which surprised him. "Because an Acolyte may move unseen through the swarm and be my eyes and hands and ears. His tithe and knowledge more than sustains me. Perhaps you may feel it as well," she said.

"Hmm," he looked down at the Acolyte Noornoon knelt at his feet, hands up prostrate. "Rise, Noornoon," he rumbled and he did and looked up at Crota unflinchingly. He didn't move an inch when Crota reached down with his great hand and curled it around Noornoon's entire torso. His thumb pressed against the Acolyte's chest and he could feel the thrum of the worm inside Noornoon and the tithe it gave to Crota. He was... surprised. It was not insignificant. Not the most. Not as much as Zoken or even Kinox but it was not nothing. Certainly more than some of his great warriors. "Where do you draw your tithe?"

"Those who do my bidding. I command many eyes and swords for the benefit of the swarm, for you, my Prince," Noornoon said gravely.

"And yet you are an acolyte," Crota said roughly though with the size of his tithe Crota could tell he could easily maintain the morph and violence of a Knight.

"Kinox demands it and so I obey. Her desires are mine." Next to him Kinox shivered in delight. Crota had to admit, his daughter had it bad for this acolyte.

"And you are loyal?"

"I would give her my third eye so she may have one more," Noornoon said without hesitation. "I have an extra."

Crota paused and then he laughed and released him. "Very well," Crota said.

"You approve?" Kinox asked him.

"I am willing to let him prove himself to be worth a consort to my daughter," Crota said specifically. He grunted when she hugged him, her spindly form like a brush of cloth against him.

"And what about mother?" Kinox asked nervously.

"I will stay her hand from using your Noornoon's entrails to paint the walls of our home," Crota said.

"He will prove himself," Kinox said. "And will make me proud."

"I expect nothing less than perfection," Crota said. He looked down at Noornoon. "Right?"

"I know no other way, my liege," he said.

"Very well. Begone," Crota waved his daughter away.

She immediately flew down to Noornoon's height and grasped his hand, pulling him away. When she thought Crota could no longer see them she draped herself over Noornoon's wide shoulders and he easily held her aloft. It would do for now.

[bigbutchgothgirl]

Screw top surgery, where's the surgery that gives me whatever Ir Yût got goin' on, queen's rockin' it

[phthalology]

Destiny 2: Ablution (Eris/Toland)

“I will not tithe to you,” said Toland the Shattered, and Eris Morn’s heart gladdened for it. She stood looking at his wisp in the ritual circle. The air in the Athenaeum was cool, but warmer than the chill she felt when she visited this place in her human shape. 

His welcome refusal to tithe were the first words Toland had spoken to her since she and the Guardian had performed the ritual to transform her from partially-Hive to partially-human.

She was tempted to call her first body a guise, as if the lie Savathûn sowed was true all along. But, no. Eris was human and Hive at once.

And Toland was part of Eris’ plans, not Savathûn’s. She had summoned him here. 

Now, she could talk to him as an untrustworthy guide or as an old friend and almost-lover.

She chose the latter.

She began to gesture. As Toland watched, Eris rewrote the ritual circle with her wit and her runes and her will so that Toland, too, could have a new form. She extended the lines of her ritual circle to the limits of the Athenaeum, green sickles overlapping under the thin skin of reality.

Toland, a semi-corporeal memory of his former Warlock-shape returned to him, looked more human than she did despite his hooked Hive horns. He ran his hands over his hair and horns for a moment before looking back at her with a mix of sympathy and sorrow.

Toland knew already what sleepless nights in strange places Eris had spent on reconciling the two species she bridged, Eris thought. Staring hungrily back at him, the empty space where a worm would be gnawing with phantom hunger, she considered whether he was ally or prey. She certainly didn’t want him to be a supplicant in the way he usually was. Judging by his refusal to tithe, he understood the game board she saw in front of her when it came to his desires. Toland yearned after the Hive in ways aspirational, romantic and ambitiously cowardly. He had thought Ir Yût could save him from the Flower Game, from Rasputin. Well. Neither the Warmind nor the fight between the Traveler and its enemies reached predictable codas. 

Looking at Eris’ new body Toland was uncharacteristically, strategically speechless. He reached a hand forward, the careful distance saying you are beautiful and I am awed. 

He was beautiful too, his three green eyes a perfect symmetry to hers.

“You will not tithe to me because I know full well how you give yourself to your obsessions,” Eris intoned. “And you give me to me on different terms.”

“Yes, yes.” Their cadences matched. “You grow ever more puissant, orbit ever farther out. Dare I ask …” His voice trailed off. Even on relatively solid ground, his lofty tone evoked the endless drops and watchful statues of the Ascendant Plane. “I shouldn’t..” His voice became more wheedling, more like Eris remembered from before the Pit. Toland’s teeth showed in a rictus smile. “I shall. Tell me, dearest Eris, what it feels like.”

Of course he wanted to know. She shifted her weight, from outermost clawed toe to innermost clawed toe. Tattered fabric settled along her craggy arms. Toland’s hungry curiosity gave her permission to indulge in her own. The rictus drew her eyes to his strong jaw, his high cheeks.

“The Guardian feasts,” Eris said. “Others, too, are drawn to my brood. Immaru spreads rumors and truths. And I … feel their strength give me strength.”

“Isn’t it freeing, the ascension?”

“Yes.” She flexed her claws with just the memory of the power and safety-in-numbers flowing through her thick-shelled arms. “But I do not think I will keep it."

“What you did in the Pit was out of desperation. You didn’t want the eyes, but came to see them as your own. Now, does this body reach the limits of your mutability?

“No!” Her voice was resonant, echoing with her new vocal cords and the dimensional ripping of the ritual circle, layered and deep. “I want this. Savathûn set the plan in place, but she was right. Yet something in it feels like …” Oh, she had resisted these words. But in front of him there was no need to do so. He was aware of Savathûn’s schemes, yes, had warned her about them after the Nightmares of her fireteam had appeared on the Moon.

She had been torn away from him then. She did not want to be torn away from him now.

Eris said, “It feels like home.”

Toland moved forward. Long fingers lightly touched the side of her jaw. He explored the ridges there, following them back to where her ears had been. She relaxed her mouth, hidden proboscis lifting off the floor of her mouth.

Toland said, “You are glorious.”

She basked in that. “I …”

He pulled slightly away, but lay his palms against the flat sides of her bony crest. Looked at her with a quizzical, anticipatory gaze.

“I trust only you,” Eris said. “You who have seen my eyes more clearly than any other. See this.” Eris opened her arms and she was powerful, predatory, sleek and poised. Her own body was the sea in which she dove. But it was still a body, and it sometimes ached, sometimes frayed and cracked. The ritual was not a Ghost, which could heal with every rebirth. “Give me a gift, Shattered One. Scales itch and dry on my back I cannot see. Will you help me wash them?”

“I want nothing more,” he said.

She lay on her stomach on the path beside the marshy ground. Her chest plates were as hard as the callouses on her feet, not sensitive to pain. She was already attuned to the strangeness of her body when Toland wiped a cloth across the large spike on her shoulder blades. It was the least intimate part he could find, perhaps; she had those spikes when she crawled out of the Pit. She was used to them.

“Do you feel that?” Toland asked. 

“I do.”

The cloth wrapped around. She felt the coolness and the damp distantly. 

“And this?” He applied firmer pressure and a slight pull, washing both sides of the spike. He gently moved aside the tattered cloth. 

“No more or less than if you held my hands.”

Toland laughed low. His caresses became more exploratory, the cloth running along the long spikes farther up her shoulder. Water dripped to make black specks on the white stone. Toland pressed a kiss to the back of Eris’ head while he wrapped the cloth around one spike after another.

He whispered stupid words, lovers’ repetitive and straightforward affirmations, as he dug dead skin and dust from between the spikes. 

Then he asked, “Do the Hive perform ablutions for their mates?”

“I have seen the Acolytes splash each other,” Eris remembered. “Wizards tend to immerse themselves in pools. Knights bathe in astringent dust.”

“And Thrall are in their morphs not nearly long enough to bathe.” Toland’s voice was full of humor.

“Now, darling. You know better. Some push each other into pools.” 

He gave one dry-throated laugh. 

The cloth dipped between the smaller, sharper spines in the middle of her back. She shifted to keep her back from feeling stiff, and felt Toland’s knee brace against her thigh.

He said, “The skin is dry here.”

Eris said, “In the antechamber there is unguent.”

And so, cool water ran between the scutes on her lower back. Toland followed the direction of the thicker chitin protecting her spine and the back of her ribs, and she was lulled almost to sleep as he stroked and cleaned, humming, occasionally pausing to lift a patch of dried skin off her broad back and drop it to the ground beside her, where she could see for a moment as it drifted through the air like a leaf, shining with miniature scales. He took care around her lower back and the plane between her spine and ribs, picking shed from between plates. Most of the time he was quiet. Sometimes he sang.

She almost slept, but not quite. She wanted to remember that her new body felt both the bright feast of the tithe and the quiet satiety of a need for care. 

[alketaire]

i am using my mind powers to beam a thought directly to the raid team at bungie, and that thought is "adding multimillion DPS checks subtracts fun"

[oryx-the-nightmare-daddy]

*rolling the sicknastiest hive blunt you've ever seen* make sure to teabag the skulls of all the idiot cringefail losers who wiped at Ir Yût on their way to Crota while youre down there