#Rasputin: he wanted me to kill and usurp the Traveler

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

let Rasputin say fuck 2k23

Happy Birthday, Rasputin!!

[warmindrasputinarchive]

Destiny Week Day 6: Grimoire Card

This is a fan Card I kinda made on the fly a few days ago just to have something new to post for the event! I took inspiration from certain cards and how they read to make this one so that’s why is Reads Like That, but I’m pretty happy with it!

It involves my (not) Hunter, the Traveler, and Warmind Rasputin and a flashback to an event that led to the Guardians being a Thing in the first place.

It’s rather short (as most Cards go), but thanks for reading!

All I did was stare up at the broken plaster moon.

Funny how easily some of these memories are provoked.

The Traveler was full now and I guess any other Guardian would find it unsettling or awe-inspiring, but I’m not a Guardian and the being that hovers dead over that City blessed the wrong corpse.

Certainly so. Why would it want me to remember this? Of course, it isn’t my memory it’s another flashback and swearing on every grave I’ve been in it belongs to a Titan I met a long time ago. You would think being a Titan they would be all about upholding their charge, the Light, the Traveler, but they spat on the Wall and cursed at the being with a swing of their fist and I had this inkling as to why, but I guess it wasn’t enough to see it for myself.

It took a broken plaster moon.

That’s right I mean it looks like the Traveler (deep within my brain core its name is spoken in an old language I don’t understand, but he does and he calls it The Gardener and we are its Roses and that works for me) and it’s broken in all the right places, but like I said this one is full and bright like how the moon is supposed to be.

It hovers not over the City, but instead over the forests of a place I never bothered to visit myself. The Titan isn’t a Titan yet, just an Exo with a weight pressing against their chest and had they the lungs, they would be suffocating. Not a literal weight, mind you, but watching as the very thing that brought upon a Golden Age began its ascent towards its own salvation it was hard not to feel crushed.

I felt myself scream at it and I wanted desperately to feel my throat go raw to be sure the effort was heard, but I just kept going. I knew it didn’t care. If it did, it would stay. I guess I wanted to make sure it knew how angry I was and that’s understandable.

I would be angry too, but the Traveler blessed the wrong corpse so I feel nothing for it.

However, I know how this story is supposed to end because the Traveler never left and it’s dead over a City that I feel nothing for and as I stood there screaming, I wonder what stops it.

I think sometimes (something my Ghost says I should do more often) that those Warlocks that kill themselves to see visions would love me. I think they would beg me to tell them how I see these things. I can’t be for sure, but I get the idea that it started here.

It started with the sky breaking open and it ended with the Traveler crippled, carved open by an aurora blade that was dropped with a nonchalant twist of the wrist and the excuse that he was following orders.

That was a lie and I know it, but not because I know it, mind you, I just remember it. He thought about that day and I guess that was a good thing because no one else had the idea and he was made for that sort of stuff.

He carved the flesh of this being with such merciless force that you would think he was trying to kill it, not wound it. I stopped screaming and watched as chunks fell off and crashed into the forest below, smoking oozing like blood into an amber sky. Electricity crackled in the air and I could feel it against my metal skin as if it were replacing the smell of iron that one would expect from such a gruesome attack. It was a brutal display of power. He was an usurper twisting the blade in the gut of the king and whispering in his ear I knew you so well. He was an angry preacher that stripped away the holiness of his God with damnable words.

Go ahead and laugh a little. He really was a mad priest.

At any rate, if there was time to fully absorb what had happened, it was robbed from me with a blinding white light and I knew in that moment I was dead. It passed over the forest in a burst and as I watched it come towards me, I spat at the Traveler for the first time.

And then there was nothing.

Nothing but this broken plaster moon as it dangles from a thin strand of wire in a creaky building on a coast with no name because everyone has forgotten. I’m sure I could remember, if I had the right memory, but I don’t seek these things out.

They just happen to remind me.