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local-fanfic-addict · 1 year ago

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Shoulder to Cry On

You blacked out amidst the chaos of the attack on New Mombasa only to wake up to fire and death all around you, alone and scared. When you run into a strong and silent ODST, hope is rekindled.

The Rookie x gn!Reader

Notes: a little angst, Hurt/Comfort, inaccurate Halo firearm references, I don’t know how guns work ok? Mostly silent rookie, injuries, mentions of death, graphic depictions of violence, reader gets a nickname, protective!rookie.

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You were right in the middle of the scramble of people when it hit, when the screams grew to a cacophony that drowned out all coherent thought and rationality and the hellfire started to reign from above. When the Covenant attacked your city. Their ships roared through the atmosphere, covering the sun and bringing death and destruction with them, that’s when the crowds really started.

People turned on one another in the blink of an eye, looters and lowlifes crawled out of their holes. No comradery was found within the city, it was everyone for themselves it seemed. That is where you found yourself, almost trampled beneath the feet of others as they scattered like ants in a storm. You found yourself an adjacent alleyway and slipped between the buildings, hoping to escape the destruction or at least to catch your breath and gather your thoughts.

“What the hell, you’d think people would want to band together in a time like this.” You thought to yourself, even though you knew it was a fantasy, something only dreamed about. With a sigh you leaned against the alley wall, watching people rush by just outside, hurried footsteps and muffled cries echoing through the small space you found yourself in.

The peace was, unfortunately, momentary as shuffling footsteps sounded behind you and something struck you from behind, the world darkening around you as the sounds of gunfire and screams and the city’s voice echoed in your ears.

With a gasp and a fit of coughing, you regained consciousness. A dull ache settled in your head, making it hard for your eyes to focus as your muscles strained to lift your head up. There was silence now, so utterly terrifying and that it almost made you question whether the attack had actually happened. Though of course it had, the distant smoke that had caused you to cough was evident and the alleyway around you was littered with debris.

How long had you been out?

The sky spoke to you as you looked upwards, the few tiny stars peeking out from behind the mass of clouds and smoke. Nighttime. At least six hours then.

What had you been hit with?

It was so unexpected. Gently, your hand felt the spot on the back of your head, crusty with a bit of dried blood and painful to the touch, you drew your hand away. A hiss left your lips, both mind and body were sore and begging for rest even now, as you lay propped against a wall for support.

Your hands roamed your sides, checking for injuries and items in your pockets and— your bag was gone. So was your phone and keys and wallet and everything else of value.

Mugged. You had been knocked unconscious and mugged in the middle of a city-wide— no, planet-wide crisis.

“That’s just great…” Your dry voice also felt strained, letting out another fit of coughing as you spoke to the empty city, like it would speak back.

What horrors lay at the exit to the relatively safe alleyway you were in now? The faint glow of fire light could be seen from its end, and as your feet took one step after the other, hand still attached to the wall to steady your trembling body, you laid eyes on your once proud city now brought low.

No one could be seen anywhere, nothing moved, save the wind. Cars were left in the middle of the road, some beeping incessantly, others completely wrecked and totaled. Rubble lay every which way, glass and metal and other objects littered the street and fire consumed some of the buildings.

The whole place felt like some kind of ghost town. The sun having set on the eerie streets, casting shadows like monsters in your peripheral vision. Cautiously, you stepped out and onto the open street, a slight limp in your aching legs as they adjusted to walking after hours of being at a strange angle.

Slowly making your way down the street, you kept to the sides of the buildings and in the shadows, hoping not to be seen in case anything was around you. This proved a successful tactic as faint sounds of gunfire started to grow nearer. Something was shooting at something, which meant some kind of life, maybe even survivors! You didn’t want to put yourself in danger based on a hunch or the hope of finding allies, so you moved ever closer but as silently as you could and as carefully, lifting your steps where there was glass or rubble so as to make as little noise as possible. The last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself.

Unfortunately for you, the nearby signs began to light up around you as you walked, the automated voice of the city ringing around you.

“Please walk. Please walk.” It’s once welcoming voice was anything but in this moment, the signs pointing towards the gunfire down distant streets. For a brief moment it seemed like the city voice was trying to guide you somewhere, but that was surely absurd, right?

“Shhh! Shush! Please!” You spoke to it, tempted to kick the signs to get them to be quiet. You could hear the gunfire cease for a moment before resuming, now even closer

You didn’t get the chance to try and hush the loud superintendent before there was a grunt and guttural growl sounding behind you, the heat of a blaster nearly hitting you in the shoulder. There was a small creature behind you, a Covenant grunt. Well, small was definitely not accurate as it was half the size of yourself, but it was smaller than the absolutely massive brute that was approaching you from across the street.

With a scream you scrambled backwards, almost tripping over debris as you ran towards an empty building, weaving through the rubble and streets to avoid getting shot. The blaster shots made scorching marks where they hit, the sound echoing in your ears as you sprinted towards an empty building, slamming your hand onto the keypad to open the door. The metal slid on its railings but no safety was found as a Jackal stood on the other side of the door, long sniper rifle in hand, a wicked looking piece of tech that it slammed into your torso as soon as it saw you.

The hit sent you doubling over and crumbling back onto your ribs, the wind being ripped from your lungs and your thoughts becoming hazy from the shock. A muffled cry was all that could escape your lips as you stared death in the face, the Jackal aiming his long weapon at your head.

As tears sprung into your eyes, you closed them to spare yourself of the imagery of your death. A shot rang out, echoing in your ears as you felt blood splatter onto you. For a second you thought it was your own until you realized it wasn’t a Covenant weapon you heard as you opened your eyes to see the Jackal slumped onto the concrete, its blood and brains pooling around its body in a sticky, viscous mess.

More shots rang out as quick as it took you to blink and the Brute and Grunt were soon to follow the Jackal to the grave, taken out with precise shots, uncanny accuracy to their heads and weak spots in their armor as they cried out in agony and rage. You lay curled onto the ground, gasping for air with shuddering breath as heavy footsteps grew ever closer until a shadow looked over you. It was blurry as it went in and out of focus until you felt strong, armored hands curl around your underarms and shoulders and lift you upwards into a sitting position against an armored chest plate. The sensation was cold, though there was a hint of warmth poking through the un-armored sections of your mystery man.

There wasn’t much fight in you, but you tried to struggle nonetheless, only managing a slight wiggle and a whimper as you were held, trying to muffle your cries of pain as your eyes were blinded by the flashes of white that your broken body summoned as it moved.

“Shh” you heard someone shushing you, and maybe even a muttered “It’s alright, hold still.” But you couldn’t be sure, it was so quiet and your head was throbbing. You blinked your eyes into focus to see a soldier before you, one wearing ODST armor, his helmet glazed over to hide his face. You quickly realized that this was a friend. Someone here to save you.

The sight made your heart leap, and all the fight in you vanished like smoke. You began to settle into the man’s armored arms, all panic leaving you as the adrenaline started to dwindle and left your limbs feeling like lead pinned to your body.

Air fought in your throat and you coughed violently, feeling something dribble down your bottom lip as your ribs screamed in pain, broken bones rubbing together. It was blood, you saw, as it dripped onto your open hand, dark crimson in the city's dimly lit atmosphere. Another whimper followed the fit as you slumped weakly onto the body of the trooper. He didn’t make any move to stop you, in fact he shifted a bit so none of his armor poked uncomfortably into your skin.

“Here.” Another eerily quiet and muffled whisper from the soldier as he pulled something from his belt and offered it to you. It was a white box with a Red Cross on its front, a medical kit. He made a noise like a question, asking for consent to look over your wounds so as not to cause you unwanted pain.

Your head nodded wearily, slowly and heavily as he opened the pack and administered the kit. It only took a few seconds before you started to feel much better, your breath returning to your body and your ribs no longer feeling like they had been split in half by the Jackal. You could take full breaths, though shaky, and your head began to clear from its haze. You sat there against the ODST’s armored form for a few moments longer, like you both needed a rest after the firefight, something he had probably been in the middle of for much longer than you had.

You found yourself shaking though; the near death experience- more than once- was taking its toll on your mental state. You reached up and wiped off the Covenant blood from your face, a shuddering breath leaving your lips as you looked at it.

The ODST seemed to take notice and repositioned himself around you, slowly you felt his hand rest on your shoulder and he held your bloody hand to lower it from your eyesight, deeming it not something you should stare too long at. It was almost like a hug, but not quite. There was more protectiveness in the action than perhaps comfort.

From what you knew of the ODST, they were regular humans, not Spartans. It probably explained why he was out of breath when you first saw him, his armor rising and falling quickly as his breath echoed in his helmet. Now he took such deep breaths that you could feel it as you sat against him, a steady rhythm that you soon began to mimic. His arms now rested on his thighs, his legs crossed as you sat in the middle of them, like a gentle cocoon of armor, your back pressed against his chest as you both returned into silence.

Once again the city settled into its quiet and almost peaceful state as you two sat against a crumbled building wall, strangers so calm despite all the chaos around them. The bodies that littered the streets also mimicked the calm, like they were simply sleeping, destined to wake up when the sun rose; the darkness hiding the blood that painted both armor and skin. It was so morbid to think about, but you were still somewhat in shock. With a hum you looked up at the ODST, grabbing his attention with a gentle tap against his armor. He looked down at you, the tilt in his head implying curiosity. You could feel tears rise in your eyes.

“Thank you, for saving my life. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.” Your voice was a whisper, never had you been so thankful in that moment to have been spared a gruesome death.

“Do you have a name? Something I can call you?”

There was a silence that formed between you, the man thinking before his quiet voice gave you an answer, gentle and almost comforting though it still held the gruffness of a soldier. He was probably trying to seem less intimidating in the presence of a civilian.

“Rookie.”

You repeated it back to him, thinking it sort of odd and probably not his real name. Still, a code name was better than nothing in your opinion. He didn’t ask for your name though, but you caught him muttering under his breath. “So how’d you end up stuck here, Civi?”

You almost missed it, it took your brain a couple seconds to decipher what he was saying before you actually caught it.

“Oh. Someone- uh, knocked me unconscious. Stole all my things and then… left me for dead… in an alleyway…” You could feel the tears threaten to spill over, warm and blurry. You’d had a picture of your family in your wallet. Now none of them knew where you were or that you were alive. You had completely missed the evacuation…

“My family… I don’t know if they even got out or not. They probably assume I’m long dead if they did.” Wide eyes glistened with un-wept tears, the horrible realization finally setting in as you thought about all the events leading up to this moment.

Rookies arms seemed to tighten around you as you finally wept, his posture more alert than before and you could hear him better, his muffled voice carrying out more in a show of confidence.

“Don’t worry Ci, you’re safe with me now.”

#bwcfic #one shot #odst #rookie x reader #halo odst

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local-fanfic-addict · 2 years ago

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Cayde-6 (Destiny)

[Cayde imagines and fic updates to be posted here.]

SINGLES:

From the Rooftops

(Cayde x Wife!Reader) Cayde comes home to find you on your period needing comfort. So, comfort ensues.

MULTI-PART:

In Memoriam

Part One

Part Two.1

Part Two.2

Part Three

Part Four.1

Part Four.2

Part Five

(post-Forsaken DLC, can be read as self-insert but it's written with an OC. Not an x reader, simply angst.)

#bwcfic #cayde x oc #destiny cayde #cayde 6 #destiny 2 #cayde 6 x reader #fanfic #masterlist

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local-fanfic-addict · 1 year ago

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Faltered Aim

Inspo: What Could Have Been - Sting, Ray Chen

Trigger warnings - General Angst, Depression, Self-Isolation as a coping mechanism

Note: This is Canon to the game.

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Vlairyn’s back rested against the stone pillar on which Cayde’s tribute sat, her head resting against her knees as the feeling of cold solar light swirled within her. The rain around her fell in sheets and yet she was completely dry, the droplets evaporating with a cacophony of hissing before they even touched her, such intense heat radiated from her body. This in turn caused a pool of steam to cascade around her sitting form and it sounded like the grinding of gears to her processors but she was unable to make it stop.

Oh how she wished it would stop. How everything would just be silent for a second.

Particles of light signaled that Goldie was in front of her, hovering gently over her head and towards her buried face. She barely noticed, the soft nudge to the crown of her head finally bringing her to lift it and face him.

“You need to be anywhere else but here, Vlairyn.” It was whispered, gently, and with care but all Vlairyn could hear was a command. An order.

“I’m fine, Ghost.” Her own voice was soft, but laced with venom as she lowered her head again and waved Goldie away.

“I’m fine.”

Goldie felt a twinge of hurt at her words. She hadn’t even bothered to use his name, the name she had given him. She wouldn’t tell him how she was feeling, or what had happened on Neptune, he had to hear it from Caitle on the way back to Earth because his own Exo wouldn’t even talk to him!

“Fine, Guardian.” The sad trill in his voice was the closest thing one could attribute to crying as he vanished from her view, leaving her alone again.

A sob racked her body as soon as he left, rare and unusual to her, she hated its feeling. Maybe it wouldn’t be there if she had killed Goldie on Neptune days prior.

Her gun had been raised, the familiar feeling of Ace in her hands as she gripped the hand cannon and placed her finger upon the well worn trigger; the tiny little golden ghost in her crosshairs before the vast opening of the Veil that lay before her. An ever churning mass of unknown origin.

Could she kill Goldie? Her own Ghost? Her friend? The first thing she ever saw as a Risen, the small being who had resurrected her time and time again and had listened to her rambles about obscure topics; who had stood by her even though she called upon a cold power that had made him feel distant to his creator. He had been undyingly loyal throughout the many years they had been together, even through their differences.

“But this was for the better” She told herself, the feeling of solar light rising within her, violently pushing her to pull the trigger as she tried to make herself believe her own words, like that was the final missing piece she needed to gain the strength to kill her best friend.

The light tightened around her, all but making her glow in the face of her undetermined fate as it tried to put a stop to the ever growing link that was forming between the possessed Goldie and the Traveler.

Her chest tightened, for it wasn’t simply solar light she felt wrapping around her hands, it was Cayde’s light. She could feel his fingers around hers, squeezing and pushing her, trying to get her to pull the trigger and watch her Ghost die before her, ridding her of her ghost but saving the Traveler in the process.

It made her knees weaken, violent heat and seething flames consuming her mind and body as images of Cayde flashed across it, amplified by the neon green energy of Strand as it tied itself around her memories and sought to bring them all to the surface in one overwhelming moment. Cayde’s light in tandem with hers, all their escapades, their tender moments, inside jokes, time spent escaping the tower-

She couldn’t do it.

Save the thing she hated the most? Live without that feeling of Cayde’s light? She realized that now, if she pulled the trigger, the presence of Cayde-6 would be gone forever, and she would have been responsible for the death of her best friend all over again in Goldie. She knew that killing him would have freed her of her light, perhaps she might have felt peace then, but her obsession to spite the Traveler was all consuming and spiraling.

“I can’t do it!”

The striking mix of golden orange and neon green was blinding to those around her, they seemed to be fighting, clashing in spectral colors that synchronized with the Exo Hunters outburst. It curled up the handle of her gun, wormed its way down her arms and shoulders before it enveloped her in yet another display of emotions fueled by reckless power.

She screamed and in one defiant act against the Traveler, she threw her gun away from her, its metallic clang echoing as Nimbus swooped in from above to grab Goldie from his fate, but too late. The Ghost rose from his place in their hands, bewildered, no memory of his possession as his Guardian knelt shaking on her hands and knees.

Vlairyn leaned her head back against Cayde’s tribute as she remembered what had happened. She had since been calling upon her light in hopes it would provide some sense of comfort and ease her still shaking body, but it was always too much. Too overwhelming with the mingled sensation of growing loss that was the Darkness, and now with the addition of Strand, it only amplified whatever memories she felt to an absurd degree, rooting them within her like forever intrusive thoughts.

What would it take for her to be rid of these feelings? If they could be controlled, she didn’t have the first clue as to how. Every attempt to stifle them into smaller pieces only had them return more mingled than before, like a tangle of wires too thick to unwind by her own hands.

Maybe she was too stubborn, too loyal to a fault and her fault was flawed. She didn’t know how to crawl out of this hole that seemed to be made of quicksand, dragging her ever deeper into her own abyss.

The only shred of comfort she could remind herself of was that she was there, with all her power, she still stood; the Towers greatest bastion of strength despite how crumbled she actually was. Maybe there was hope in her sacrifice, but there was still that ever gnawing whisper in the back of her head, that one selfish voice that tugged on her emotions.

What if she had rid herself of her light? The thought of what could have been would never leave her, another intrusive thought amongst all the rest, and yet it stood out the most. Like a thorn in her side.

She settled back against the stone, finally letting the rain soak her clothes. The world might be coming to an end, and its best chance of survival was broken.

#bwcfic #one shot #cayde 6 #destiny 2 #destiny exo #original character #angst #cayde x oc #destiny cayde

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local-fanfic-addict · 1 year ago

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The Sea is Always Right

Elendil x Fem!Reader

Beauty and the Beast AU

Notes: Romance, No Songs, Themes of Manipulation, Violence, Unwanted Romantic Advances, Depictions of Blood, Loose Plot, and Heavy Canon Divergence (Canon? Who’s she?.) Seriously, there's like… no RoP canon here. It’s almost all freeform. (It’s so I can add in references.)

Soooooo... Eight months. Let's just say my life got immensely busy, and is likely to get busier... I should be a bit better now, and working on some form of schedule, but I can't promise it'll be quick. I just got over some huge writer's block and burn out.

{Chapter Three}

Your daily walk into the town was uneventful as you waited for Celebrimbor to return later that evening as he said he would. The sky was gray, only small rays of sunlight breaking through over the sea as you crossed the bridge that connected your land with the open space that belonged to the village. It was definitely one of those days that signals rain for later, but you didn’t mind. It meant you could curl up with a good book and some hot tea and watch as it fell from above.

Rain was soothing in your mind, a chance for growth to come from it, new life and small bugs and oh the smell. The smell of fresh rainfall was something you treasured dearly, your father being one to take you out afterwards and let you run to your heart's content, always coming back muddy and wet from jumping in puddles but he couldn’t care less as long as it made you happy.

So you walked one foot after the other, happy to dwell on your thoughts as you approached the marketplace, only a few people walking around you, no doubt grabbing one last thing before the sky opened its arms to let the water fall. Many of the open stands were already closed, the eery crack of thunder ringing in the far off distance.

As you started to converse with one of the shopkeepers, looking to purchase some new tea for your aforementioned rain watching, you could hear raised voices from one of the shops closest to you. It was tempting to try and see what was happening, but you knew people in this village were nosy enough without you needing to add to their ranks, so you turned back to browse the tea selections; you continued until the raised voices became shouts and curses, then you heard the sound of glass shattering and could ignore it no longer, setting a quick pace towards the apothecary and the stand that stood before it.

What you set your eyes on immediately ignited a flame in your chest, for three men stood above the crumpled form of an Elven figure, a crate full of herbs and now broken bottles lay beside him, and you could see he was injured; the crimson color leaking from his hands where he had fallen onto his crushed wares upon the steps of the apothecary.

As he lifted his head, you could put a name to the pained expression on his face. Thondir, an Elven herbalist who you had met a few times on the road going to and from the village. He didn’t live close by, but since this was the closest village for a good long while, he came every so often to sell elixirs and herbs. He was a sweet boy, you thought, and undeserving of such treatment.

The men were jeering at him as you advanced, and one placed a quick kick to his side as he was staggering to rise, only sending him back down with a crunch of glass and groan.

“Hey!” The words left your lips in a scream, furious you elbowed your way through the three men and placed yourself between them and Thondir, gently helping him to his feet as he fought to hold onto a shred of his dignity despite the blood falling from his hands and the bruising that was no doubt blooming onto his ribs.

“Have you nothing better to do with your sorry lives? How dare you treat another person with such contempt, what has he done to warrant such violent behavior?” You stood as a shield between the Elf and the Men, face red hot with anger as you spoke.

The one who seemed to be the instigator, the one who had kicked Throndir, stepped closer to you, aiming to intimidate you though you stood your ground.

“Why do you care so much, woman, Hm? Because your bastard of a father is an elf? This freak is putting my brother out of business because of whatever witchcraft he sells. You would defend him while he destroys my family’s livelihood?” The man growled, and you could see now the two other men who stood with him. The owners of the apothecary on who’s steps you stood. Typical.

With a fighting glint in your eye you grinned, mocking and mischievous. “Well maybe if your brother was anywhere decent with healing remedies he wouldn’t be so threatened by the competition. But he’s not, so clearly you feel like sabotage is a good moral to have on your compass.”

“Why you little-“ The man grabbed the front of your shirt and cloak, pushing you against the store wall behind you, effectively trapping you there. The force threw your head back against the wall and you knew you would have some kind of headache tomorrow. With a methodical motion, he drew a knife from inside his coat, gleaming steel with a bronze hilt. He held it to your throat and all you could do was let out a shuddering breath and wait for the feeling of cold steel slicing your skin, Thondir injured and unable to help against the two men who saw it fit to restrain him.

Only lucky for you the final motion never came. Instead you heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed and saw its blade being placed against the man’s neck.

“Now what’s this here? Three stupid brutes against a woman and an injured elf? That is highly unfair I’d say. Why don’t you let the girl down before my sword makes its home in your head.”

The feelings that swarmed within you were some of the most conflicting you’d ever felt, though you supposed that Halbrand showing up to your aid was rather confusing in its own way. You hated the man, but here he was, sword pressed into the neck of your attacker with one arm firm to his back and a fire in his eyes like you’d never seen before.

“Thondir too, you sorry excuses of men.”

He waved his sword toward the brother and his associate, who promptly did as they were told.

“Cowards!” The man holding you slowly but surely released you, his slow motions merely a facade as he quickly placed an elbow into Halbrands ribs, turning with knife in hand towards the swordsman and making a wild slashing motion in an attempt to stave off whatever injuries he thought he would receive.

Halbrand grunted, bringing his arm up to protect his face before catching the man’s knife hand with his own and smashing his head in with the hilt of his sword. The man crumbled like a sack of potatoes as you sat on the stone steps, trying to catch your breath from the whole ordeal. Once you knew the man was alive by the steady rise and fall of his chest, you turned to look at Thondir’s injuries with gentle hands.

“I’ll be fine Miss (Y/N), my pride is more injured than my body if I am to be honest.” The Elf spoke with a shrug as you offered him your handkerchief for his hands. He looked undecided for a moment, but took it anyway, thankful for the gesture.

“And thank you, Halbrand.” He gave a respectful nod and carried on his way, not wanting any more humiliation for the day.

This left only you and Halbrand, who sheathed his sword and offered you his hand. There was reluctance as you took it and he hauled you upwards and onto your feet with a hiss, thankfully letting go after that. You would have written off the hiss through his teeth as perhaps soreness or strain of some kind had your hand not come away covered with his blood. He was injured.

“You’re injured.” You voiced your thoughts, looking at your hand before showing him.

“Ah. Nothing too bad. I’ve definitely had worse, dear (Y/N).”

There was that word again. You didn’t like it, but you didn’t think he could help it. It might as well have been engraved into his vocabulary. With a sigh you gently grabbed his arm and pulled back his sleeve. He was right, the wound wasn’t as bad as you had thought, rather shallow, but bleeding profusely all the same, the red liquid dripping down his fingers and pooling at his feet.

“Come on, there’s some herbal remedies at my cottage. A… repayment for tonight.” You chose your words carefully, not really wanting to thank him for rescuing you, but it also felt wrong to completely dismiss him, no matter how much you didn’t like him.

“Ah, thank you.” Halbrand accepted the invitation and the two of you made your way back to the seaside cottage, the wind piercing through your clothes as those storm clouds were practically on top of the coast now. You could feel the start of the rain, tiny droplets landing on your face and hair as you made your way to the door.

Starting a fire wasn’t hard, the forge was always ready to be lit and soon you had a decent amount of light and warmth as you grabbed the box of herbs and other healing materials your father kept in the house.

These were not like the things the apothecary sold. No, these were elvish remedies, Celebrimbor having taught you the basics and then Thondir a bit more when he could. You took a cloth and dipped it in some water, gabbing a roll of bandages and a tiny jar of salve that desperately needed to be refilled.

“That elf tonight, you knew his name.” Your words left like a half formed thought, not really implying anything, more of an observation of Halbrands character.

“Yes, Thondir. I’ve met him before. I’d like to say I’m an Elf friend, just as you are.” Halbrand seemed unresponsive to the stinging of his wound being cleaned, his eyes locked onto the forge fire.

“I’ll be honest I didn’t think you cared so much.” Your voice was a whisper, realizing now what an accusation it was once you said it.

There was a huff that came from the man, a scoff as he shook his head lightly.

“You never liked me anyways, though I can’t say why so I’ll ask. Why? It’s not wrong to help elves, that’s what I’m doing with your father. That's what you do with Arondir, how is it different?”

This left you in stunned silence. He was right, at its core there was no difference. Had you been so blind this whole time? He had saved you, saved Thondir.

“I- I’m sorry. No, you’re right, it’s not different.” Your fingers began to apply the salve on his open wound, eye contact would make you feel more embarrassed so you focused on his arm.

“This feud between the races, it needs to end. I want to help it end.” His voice was quiet, gentle almost. His words were so confident, you believed them in a heartbeat. Had you two been so similar all this time?

Having applied the salve, you moved to bandage his arm, tying it together securely before making sure everything was in order.

“Well…” You cleared your throat. “That’s that.” You moved to stand, Halbrand following, his eyes looking over your handiwork.

“Thank you.” He said simply, a smile on his face that you couldn’t quite place. The two of you stood in silence that managed to grow slightly more uncomfortable with each passing second until Halbrand lowered his eyes, perhaps in embarrassment, you couldn’t tell. With a nod of his head he moved to leave, pulling his cloak over his head. “Until next time, (Y/N).” And with that he trudged out into the rain, leaving you to watch his form disappear into the dark of night.

With a sigh you reached out to feel the rain fall, trying to compare notes in your head as to what had just happened tonight. You didn’t like Halbrand or Waldreg. There was something off about them, but you didn’t know what. But now Halbrand shared your opinions on Elves? Hadn’t he proven as much by saving you and Thondir from possible death tonight?

Your thoughts were muddled, mixed emotions trying to root themselves into your subconscious. You needed sleep. You had just begun to shut the door when a blurry figure tore its way onto the beach, huge and looming, your first thought was some kind of monster until it whinnied.

“Berek?!” You found yourself rushing out into the rain, leaving the open door forgotten as you looked for your father atop your horse's back until you realized he wasn’t there. Panic flooded your veins and you tightened your grip on the horses reins to calm him down and get him to focus on you as you spoke.

“Berek, where is father? Where is he? Can you take me to him?” Berek was frantic, hooves refusing to stay still atop the sand as you shimmied your way onto his back, letting the horse have some control over your directional course before he sped off down the beach and into the forest, wind screaming in your ears and you hood refusing to stay on your head.

Berek had some energy out of pure desperation, but once it was spent, you were in a part of the forest you didn’t recognize. It was unbearably cold, unusually so for summer rain; you could see your breath as you shuddered, white and frigid as you exhaled. The lump on the back of your head throbbed as you did so, the cold seeming to isolate it.

Something was not right here. As you took one step after another, the trees seemed to cave in around you, slow and creaking like they meant to swallow you whole and never let you see the light of day. The road before you, however dark, seemed to stretch out as far as you could see; an endless strip that made you dizzy to look at. It was like the forest itself was fighting you. Magic forests were not unheard of, though incredibly rare. If you had stumbled into one, there was no guarantee you would ever get out again. Not without help of some kind.

As terrifying as the thought was, you focused on one thing: finding your father. Truly, that was the only thing on your mind, the only thing that mattered to you. And so you continued onward until you started to see the tiny flecks of snow that flew on the wind, pooling onto the pathway until it lay like a white sheet over the ground.

You drew your cloak closer to yourself and continued onward against the bitter cold, thinking only of your father and whether he was alright. You willed him to be alright, to be safe. You prayed for it from the very depths of your soul, it consumed you until Berek’s sure footing led you to the iron gates of a dark Castle blanketed in snow and frost. What was something like this doing all the way out here? The lightning that struck behind the sky illuminated the sharp architecture of the structure, gothic in nature. It was beautiful in a dark and forbidding way, drawing you closer with curiosity.

Shutting the gates with a creek that was quickly drowned out by the wind, you led Berek into an overhang by the front steps. The wind had somewhat died down since you had arrived, and you didn’t think he would be too uncomfortable if you were to leave him unattended for a bit.

“I’ll be back, okay? Stay here.” You spoke in a hushed tone before ascending the stone staircase that led up to the door.

With bated breath you tried the door handle, its brass figure of a sea serpent looked at you with eerie eyes, yet you were not swayed. You came here for answers and to find your father and you wouldn’t leave without them. With a deep inhale you steeled yourself and pushed against the door, hearing it creak open on its great hinges, sweeping snow into the marbled entryway as it followed your footsteps.

The echo sounded through the halls, followed by a quiet “Hello? Is anyone there?” As the door swung closed behind you, the wall sconces were lit, and a warm glow came from the hearth in the room adjacent to you. What magic was this? Had your father been here? You wandered further and further into the Castle, gentle footsteps echoing softly as you ascended the wide staircase that led up to the second floor.

Despite its worn appearance, the whole place was still very ornate, filigree and complex designs crowding the space as overgrown plants dotted the hallway. Columns of stone and marble lined the walls, its golden accents long tarnished.

There were far too many rooms to reasonably check, and the hallway seemed to stretch the longer you walked. It wasn’t until you reached another, smaller set of stairs, that you heard a faint noise from the top of them, the soft light of torch-fire illuminating your way up like a trail of breadcrumbs. Straining your ears, you waited silently to hear the noise again, it had sounded like an eerie sound of the castle until it reached your ears again: The shuffle of a body against stone and metal, its weight banging on what sounded like a steel door.

Slowly, you climbed up the narrow stairs, bracing yourself for what you might see at the top. Unfortunately nothing could have prepared you for the sight of your father, his clothes a bit worse for wear, arms slung through the bars of his cold cell.

“Father!” Your voice cried before you had a chance to even think about what you were doing. Your hurried footsteps scrambled up the remainder of the stone stairs, hands clawing at the bars of his cell like they would bend to your very whims. Celebrimbor looked at you almost like you were a dream standing before him, his face weary and helpless until he felt the warm flesh of your fingers grasp his face through the bars.

“(Y/N)?” His voice was quiet, but instantly alert, now realizing that you were indeed standing before him and not some figment of his imagination.

“Yes, yes it’s me! Father are you alright? How on earth did you end up here?!” The words rushed from your mouth in a panic, looking at the bars for any sort of weakness.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, I hardly believe it myself, dear…” His voice was still hushed, his eyes looking down the stairwell that you had come up from. “But that’s not important right now. Right now, you must leave! Leave before—“

He was abruptly caught off guard by something whisking past the both of you in the shadows, so quick and fierce that it blew out the already dwindling torch that sat bolted into the wall beside you, leaving only moonlight to illuminate the darkness. The gust ruffled your hair and clothing, bringing with it the smell of fur and hot breath muddled by a scent you knew all too well: Leather. Your heart leapt into your stomach at the sudden movement and you did all you could to stifle a cry of surprise and fear before a tall and shadowy figure stood opposite you further up the stairwell, only adding to its height .

All you could hear was its heavy breathing, the rush of blood in your ears as you drew closer to your father. He was trembling as his hand held yours.

“Why do you trespass here, girl?” He spoke, catching you even further off guard as you had expected him to just tear you limb from limb within a moment's notice and yet you were met with a question from a deep and imposing voice. Stealing yourself with a deep breath, you let go of your fathers hand to stand straight against the being, trying you best to show that you were not afraid despite that being the furthest thing from the truth at the moment.

“I- I came because my father was missing. Here I find him locked away as a prisoner, how dare you? What has he done wrong that you would treat him like some common thief?” Although your voice was much more confident than you had thought it would be, words still stuck in your throat.

A deep and guttural growl came from the creature and he took a step down the stairs, teeth bared as you could now see exactly what he was as he stepped into the moonlight.

Tall and while somewhat slender, the ripple of muscle could be seen, powerful arms and shoulders that could rip someone apart with a single grasp hung lanky at his side, and his lizard-like hands sprouted the slender claws to match, fingers still appearing to be slightly human in nature. His face was angular and long, but unplaceable to any one animal, his brow was like that of a wolf, while his ears seemed more opossum shaped. Overall, he looked like a gargoyle of some kind, long fur sprouting from his head and neck like a mane while scales gathered along his hands and feet. He had a pair of deep set eyes of the clearest blue, the only normal thing about him, and the only thing you could bear to look at as you gasped.

“Father? Your father was caught trespassing in a home that was not his own. Much like you are doing now.” The low, angry voice quieted only a little and you could hear the huff of breath exiting his lungs.

You struggled to even look at him, it only made speaking all the harder as a million questions ran through your mind.

“Is- Is that a- a threat? W-Would you lock up an innocent daughter trying to find her only parent?” Your voice was close to a whisper now, words feeling thick as you stared straight into the creature's blue eyes with terror before your voice seemed to speak up for you. “I demand you let him go!” Your voice, while still quiet, was indeed demanding; almost like a dare, and you knew immediately that you had spoken without thinking. The creature snarled, akin to a dog of some kind, and you could tell he was considering the option.

“You have no right to demand anything of me, Elf. Your kind deserves to rot in stone cells.”

Of course. It was too dark for him to see that you were not elven, your hair was covering your perfectly human ears like a godsend as your mind now rushed to formulate some sort of plan to rescue your father.

“Then— Then let me rot instead of my father… please.” You added on the last word with some hesitation, the ill formed plan in your head tacking itself together like a broken vase repaired by a child. The cloaked creature stilled for a moment, you could practically hear the gears turning in his head as his ears flattened before he made a move to close the gap between the two of you.

“You understand, Elf, that this is a permanent arrangement. Would you really trade yourself for him?” His eyes narrowed and you could see the tip of his nostrils flare.

“No, please! Let my daughter go, I beg of you.” Your father shoved against the bars of his cell, if only to gain his captor's attention. “Please, She is—!”

“Yes. I’ll do it.” You practically yelled, effectively cutting off your fathers words.

“Very well.” The creature moved swiftly to unlock the cell door as your father began to object and yanked your father up from off of the ground, much to your utter dismay of his methods.

“Why must you be so harsh— Don’t hurt him!” Yet your cries fell on deaf ears as you were unceremoniously shoved into the same cell and could only watch helplessly as both the creature and your father disappeared down the stairs, his protests and pleading sinking into your ears as you fought to retain your composure and confidence as the nature of the situation finally settled upon you. A prisoner. Forever. Never to see your father, or Arondir and Throndir ever again…

Tears pricked at the edges of your eyes, making the world blurry around you as you waited for your captor to return. If he ever would. Maybe he truly would leave you to rot in a cell…

#the rings of power #the rings of power x reader #lotr rop #Elendil #Elendil x reader #elendil/reader #x reader #fanfiction #beauty and the beast au #imagine #bwcfic

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local-fanfic-addict · 1 year ago

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True Aim

<;Previous | Part Four.1 | Next>

(Destiny Forsaken angst. Can be read as a self-insert, but was written with an OC. Not an X reader.)

Inspiration: What Could Have Been - Sting, Rey Chen

This is an alternate version to what actually happened in-game, which is why Vlairyn gets healing of any kind. I thought it would be cool to see the other side of the ending of Lightfall, that and honestly Vlairyn would have taken the shot at her ghost.

Trigger Warning - None

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Vlairyn’s walk through the tower courtyard was relaxing despite what had taken place mere days before her return to Earth. It was sprinkling, tiny droplets of rain gracing the dry concrete with the blessing of life, the clouds gray overhead as the Exo made her way onto the newly constructed platform of the Tower, a large Ironwood tree growing from the planter in its center; red leaves casting shadows over the shiny new memorial to her Vanguard, Cayde-6.

“A proper memorial” She thought. Not that the simple plaque of Ace that once sat engraved into the ground was by any means a bad tribute. After all, it was the best they could do with the Tower being in shambles, but this one, this brass bust of the Exo’s face, held his charming expression. She smiled, placing her hand on the top of his head in a relaxed manner as the rain began falling heavier around her.

“This was better.” She could feel herself shaking, trying to make herself believe her words as her mind wandered back to the events on Neptune and she felt the emptiness within her.

“Destroy it!” Caitle’s voice boomed to the left of Vlairyn’s head, sending a wave of panic through her body as she watched Goldie rise into the air towards the Veil and its swarming mass of color.

He had been fine seconds ago! Then he started spewing words that were not his own, like he had done before on Europa and now twice on Neptune. His voice was dark, deeper and more monotonous. Like he was possessed.

He was so close to it now, if he formed the link between the Veil and the Traveler, it was all over for Earth. Who knew if they would stand a chance against the Witness without the light.

Could she let that happen? Let Earth and the Traveler fall? It could mean the death of thousands of innocents, and they would all be on her hands if she didn’t take this shot. Civilians and Guardians alike would fall and death would be the victor once more. She had been too slow once before; did she have the courage to take the shot before it was too late?

She raised her gun, the familiar feeling of Ace in her hands as she gripped the hand cannon and placed her finger upon the trigger, the feeling of solar light rose within her, urging her to pull the trigger. It was mingled with the freezing cold of the Darkness, pushing her fingers away in order to save the Witnesses plan.

The feeling was too much, too mingled and muddy. She felt Cayde in the light, but the cold and emptiness simply amplified her feelings of loss. What she thought was his light was simply her own, attempting to fill the still present hole his death had left. It always had been.

“I can’t do it. I can’t live with this feeling any longer.”

“I’m sorry.”

The echo of Ace rang one more time in her ears, the blinding light of energy being destroyed surrounded her, blinding her as it had done once before.

In a split second her breath was ripped out of her chest, and she gasped, like the weight of an entire ocean had collapsed onto her body and was drowning it in icy cold water. When Gaul had taken the light from the Guardians and imprisoned the Traveler, it was like a haze had hovered over Vlairyn’s senses; akin to white noise from a television screen.

This was much different, whereas her light had been stifled before, now it was simply gone. As if it had never existed in the first place.

The sensation brought her violently to her knees before it was gone just as suddenly as it had occurred, leaving the faintly fading warmth of her light as the only thing she could feel.

The remains of her Ghost clinked against the metal ground as it fell, taking with it the warmth of her solar light in its final act as her connection to both the Traveler and the Darkness was severed in one fell swoop.

Ace fell from her hands, and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. There was no looming emptiness, and no reminder of Cayde but the gun that lay before her. No warring forces vying for her attention and power, she was out of the race, finally resigned to mortality.

Thus was her current situation on Earth as she found herself making her way into the Tower hanger, one of the few places she couldn’t find the courage to visit before as it was where Cayde had resided while working. His desk was still disheveled, though most likely it had been taken over by someone else in his absence. Crouching, she could still see the tiny messages he and others had left etched into the legs and underside. Mentions of her, the other Vanguard, Cayde’s chicken, and doodles of card suits brought a smile to her face.

These were good memories. Good reminders of Cayde in absence of his solar light. These ones she would hold onto.

She hummed thoughtfully, making her way back to her own workspace within her apartment. Her desk was cleaner, more trinkets on the shelves around it, the vines of potted plants hanging down the legs.

She took her knife from its holster and sat underneath the wooden desk, etching something of her own into the gray paint. She could feel the swell of sadness overtaking her, but with no torrents of light and dark it felt… bittersweet, unlike the rage and unrestrained outbursts it had brought before.

It felt right.

With a quick puff of air to blow away the sawdust, the simple depiction of Goldie made itself known. His round shell and wide eye full of curiosity staring back at the Exo.

“This is better.” Vlairyn spoke aloud to herself, placing the knife back into her holster and slipping out from under the desk. This time it was true conviction, something she believed, and it made her smile gently.

#bwcfic #cayde 6 #destiny 2 #destiny exo #one shot #original character

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local-fanfic-addict · 1 year ago

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ALRIGHT. Guess who finally has 90% of the next The Sea is Always Right chapter done? THIS GAL. It’ll drop Tuesday when I have the final touches done!

I’M SORRY IT’S TAKEN EIGHT MONTHS.

#bwcfic #the sea is always right #elendil/reader #elendil x reader #beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast au

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local-fanfic-addict · 2 years ago

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The Never-Ending Echo

Part One | Next>

Destiny Forsaken angst. Can be read as a self-insert, but was written with an OC. Not an X reader. If anything, it's a vent since I'm still not over what they did to Cayde.

Inspiration: Jungle - Emma Louise

Trigger warning - Obsession of revenge, major character death, unhealthy coping mechanisms, general angst.

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Vlairyn-3 had given and received condolences, donned dark colors, as you were supposed to, and stood before the long silver slab covered by the Vanguard’s flag; smooth satin and gold that molded to match the curves of Cayde’s body as he lay unmoving, and yet the concept of his death lay beyond her immediate grasp. She wished he was simply sleeping, his face obscured by the banner as if it were a blanket, how easy it was for her to fall into such thoughts until the fatal echo of a gunshot rang in her head again, as it had been doing since she had returned with his body in her arms.

It pulled her thoughts back to that moment when all she could hear were her own footsteps sprinting down the metal hallways of the Prison of Elders, her ghost keeping stride next to her as the faint sounds of a battle could be heard getting closer from below them. The tell-tale sign of destroyed light flooded her senses seconds afterwards, blinding her with a sudden burst of loss as the energy faded into nothingness between one breath and the next. Cayde's ghost was gone and he was alone.

The silence that followed was jarring as Vlairyn took the last jump onto the floor below them and her feet carried her to the final door, having to pry it open with her hands before she could actually move through the threshold. Coolant rushing through her artificial veins, heart racing, she only had time to register the piercing shot of Ace as it rested in the hands of the hooded Prince of the Reef, not Cayde’s.

Without thought she drew her own gun upon him with a scream and emptied its clip with reckless abandon despite his immediate exit via transmat. The empty weapon then fell from her hands with a metallic clang and she slid down onto her knees before the wounded Exo in front of her, almost too afraid to touch him in any capacity until he reached for her.

Wires were detached, sending small sparks up from their tips. Metal was bent and mangled, and his eyes flickered with each racking cough that flooded his lungs, the gaping bullet hole that sat in the center of his chest just adding to the growing panic that the Exo could feel swell within her.

“How’s… How’s my hair?”

Her audio processors nearly missed his question, of all the things for him to say to her and he leads with a joke about his nonexistent hair. It should have been a good sign, but she could see the damage done to his body as she took up his head in her autumn colored hands, the ring of the gunshot still fresh in the forefront of her mind.

“Speechless. Typical.” He chuckled, followed by another set of coughing.

“I’m sorry Cayde, I’m just- I- Goldie! Please!“ Vlairyn couldn’t find her words as she averted her gaze from him, a shuddering breath escaping her lips as she called for her Ghost.

“I’m sorry, Vlairyn. There’s nothing- I can’t do anything…” Goldie’s voice was small and sad as he hovered over the Vanguard, the beams of his light scanning his body but to no avail.

“Okay. Okay look at me Cayde, we’re gonna get you out of here, we’ll get you back to the Tower. You have to hold on, alright?” There was no use trying to hide the panic in her voice as she lifted his upper body onto her lap, cradling him in her arms.

“You have to stay awake. Think of your job! You hate it so much, would you really want some other poor hunter to have it if you die?” There was a joke in there somewhere, some attempt to get him to focus on her and to do anything but close his eyes.

He laughed. It was strained and made him cough, but he did focus on her, his hand grabbing her upper arm for stability as if he was going to sit up.

“You’re- you’re right, they’d probably… give it to you and- and I couldn’t do that to my…” He didn’t finish his sentence as another fit of coughing overtook him. His breathing was getting worse, short gasps in between metallic coughs. It was Vlairyns only hope to send a message to the Tower and keep Cayde awake long enough to get back, but they both knew that fixing an Exo this badly wounded was… impossible.

“Listen Val. This… This ain’t on you, okay? This… is what I get… for- for playing nice.” His laugh, however pained, still came through his fading voice. His labored breathing became even more shallow.

“Cayde I can’t lose you, you have to fight it, please. Cayde I-“

“It’s okay, I- I know.” He cut her off, his grip on her arm tightening. “It’ll be- be alright. You tell Zavala… and Ikora…. The Vanguard is the best bet… I ever…. Lost.”

“Cayde no, please!” Vlairyn shook him by the shoulders gently, but she could already see that the lights of his eyes were gone, dull and dark as he lay in her arms.

The solar flare that overtook her was epic in proportions, acting on the unrestrained scream that left her body as his body lay unresponsive. The light was brilliant, gold and orange flames licking at the metal of the ceiling and floor alike until it was red-hot and sizzling, practically melting around her.

She was pulled back to the present by the overwhelming feeling of heat spreading through her body, the memory of his death consuming her thoughts to the point where it called up her solar light on its own. His last words, the light literally draining from his eyes, and the echo of the gunshot that killed him all swam in her mind's eye. His own gun, now in the hands of his murderer. She wouldn’t stand for it.

She resigned herself to stay in her mourning clothes, blue was all she had as opposed to the standard black, but it fit her. She moved slowly around his body, keeping to the back of the room as other Guardians gave their respects and condolences to his fireteam, her processors picking up bits of the Vanguards conversation until she heard that name again.

Uldren Sov

She could hear her fan growing louder as it worked to cool the red hot rage that immediately rose within her at the mention of his name. She would hunt him down to the ends of the reef and beyond. Make him feel the same pain. Anything to see him dead.

She advanced upon the two remaining Vanguard with glowing eyes. She didn’t care who saw her, or what kind of person she looked like at that moment. Her anger could be felt radiating off of her in waves, hot and stifling as her solar light seemed to condense into her feelings and bring them out into the world in a physical aura.

“Uldren Sov is mine.” Her words caused a visible show of golden flames to consume her eyes for a split second before she was gone, gun slung over her shoulder and mind overwhelmed by the burning sensation of rage that was ever fueled by her solar light, by the Traveler’s gift; the echo of Ace never ending in her mind.

The Traveler would help her see this through, for she had faith in him and the power he granted her.

#bwcfic #destiny 2 #destiny exo #destiny cayde #cayde x oc #cayde 6 #one shot #angst #im hurtin #original character

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local-fanfic-addict · 2 years ago

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The Bad Ending

(Destiny Forsaken angst. Can be read as a self-insert, but was written with an OC. Not an X reader.)

Inspiration: Guns for hire - Woodkid

Trigger warning - Suicidal thoughts, feelings of betrayal, unhealthy coping mechanisms, general angst.

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The Vanguard meeting had left Vlairyn-3 feeling… Empty and cold. Her Exo mind was still trying to fully process what had happened, all the new information she had learned from her last trip into Savathuns throne world. The Traveler had left The Fallen, The Eleksni, behind. Why wouldn’t it leave humanity? It had tried once before and failed thanks to Rasputin… But now it had another chance to run and hide. She had been right all along in her theory, and she absolutely hated it. She didn’t want to be right. If there was ever a time she wanted to be wrong, it was most certainly now. Was it even possible for an Exo to not fully process something? Her breath was staggered, she sounded almost out of breath. She knew that wasn't technically possible but there she was anyway.

Numb.

With trembling hands, she removed her helmet, casting it aside with reckless abandon. Her eyes were glued to the ground as she took one aimless step after the other, her feet carrying her to an unknown destination as her circuits flooded with uncertainty.

She started to run, run as fast as her legs would take her, run as fast as she had ever ran. Like running away would help at this point… There was nowhere to run to!

If Vlairyn had been human, the sudden collision with the railing of the wall would have knocked the wind out of her, but all she did was bend it a little, her hands clutching onto the cold metal with a vice-like grip, like if she let go she would fall apart. Her eyes slowly looked out over the city behind the wall, like looking out over the vast expanse would bring her a sense of calm to know it was all still there. The glowing lights shining like stars fallen to earth under the shadow of her once infallible creator. It couldn’t have been all for nothing… right? It couldn’t have been. The Traveler was like a god to her, she had followed its will since before the tower had even existed, she didn’t know anything else but now… Now she didn’t know at all. The Last City had been created with the help of the Traveler, surely it didn’t want to leave what it had created to the darkness? To leave the guardians helpless against the Witness? It couldn’t be that selfish…

With trembling breath, the Exo lifted her head to look at the Traveler and her resolve immediately shattered, all the talking she had done to try and keep her faith strong was gone. She had nothing, and she felt nothing. Nothing but a horrible emptiness. A void where the warmth of faith should have resided. The cold clutch of darkness had curled its fingers around her heart.

She leaned over the railing, her body shaking uncontrollably as she unleashed a long, anguished cry into the city below her feet. Her voice seemed amplified with its metallic filter as she spilled her soul and purpose out to be lost alongside her faith till only a shell of a guardian remained. She continued to scream in anger and hopelessness and to lament all the things she wished had happened until no sound came out at all and she was left clinging to the metal of the railing, shaking with strained sobs though no tears fell from her eyes.

“Why us… Why me… Why Cayde, why Sundance, why Osiris, why the Hive?! Why did I have to be right, why are you so cruel, why did you lie, why did you pick us, why do you want to leave us, why why why why…”

The inner voice of her mind rose up to the endless sky and crowded out any rational thoughts, leaving only a buzzing in the ears as her own screams echoed faintly behind them.

Vlairyn slumped from the railing onto her knees, stumbling back until her hands grasped for purchase at the gold embellished memorial plaque of the fallen hunter vanguard, her metal fingers feeling the raised image of Ace as if it would materialize in her hands and bring Cayde along with it, like everything would be better if only he were there to talk to her.

She sat in anguished silence for what seemed like several lifetimes before her face hardened as her jaw set with finality, feeling the cold prickles of ice being called to her fingertips. Her gaze reached up to the white orb as it seemed to be getting further and further away.

“I’ll no longer be a pawn to any deity or paracausal being! Not you! Not The Darkness!” She yelled, hearing coolant rushing around her ears, roaring and echoing the same rage she had cried with. How she wished to be anything but a guardian of the light in that moment.

Dead.

Death would be better, she thought, looking down towards the bottom of the wall so many hundreds of feet below her with the city resting at its base, so many people probably unaware of what had taken place in Zavala's office only minutes earlier…

Too bad she was immortal.

She wouldn’t kill her ghost, the one being she thought might understand her now.

“You’ll pay when these walls come tumbling down. And mark my words, they will.” Her voice was cold as she stood against The Traveler, feeling the cold grip of The Darkness finally setting in around her, all traces of warmth- of light- gone.

#bwcfic #destiny 2 #destiny exo #destiny cayde #cayde x oc #cayde 6 #one shot #angst #im hurtin #original character

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local-fanfic-addict · 1 year ago

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Acolyte of Vengeance

Inspiration:

What The Water Gave Me by Florence + The Machine

Leaving Caladan by Hans Zimmer

Trigger warnings - none

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It had been weeks since Vlairyn had left the tower, since she had picked up her gun, or done anything other than sit in her apartment and brood. She was sitting on her bed, flipping a knife between her fingers before she threw it at the dartboard on the opposing wall and missed with abysmal aim. It was getting worse the more she refused to go out and participate in gambit or crucible, now it almost missed the board entirely.

Goldie didn’t really talk to her anymore, he tried, but was met with short answers or silence and so he had kept to himself and her backpack unless he was needed, feeling just as miserable as her.

It was this one rare occasion when he emerged from his hiding and approached her slowly, an incoming call glowing from his core.

“It’s for you; it’s Eris Morn.”

Vlairyn’s head lifted, she hadn’t seen Eris since the Leviathan incident months ago, though Eris would occasionally check in on the Hunter via the Drifter as she almost never left the moon herself. Did something else happen?

“Accept.” Vlairyn spoke as Goldie transmat her comlink into her hand and she placed it into what one might call her ear.

“Eris. What can I do for you?”

“I believe I should be asking you that question, Vlairyn.” The former Hunter spoke, sounding more concerned than anything. “Hiding in your room? You might be an Exo but you still need to perform human tasks. I hope Goldie has been keeping you accountable in such aspects.” Eris didn’t give Vlairyn a chance to speak before she got to her point.

“Ikora and I need you. You have been idle for too long and in the span of your self loathing, Immaru has made a deal that Savathun will tell us what she knows of the Witness if we take out her sister; I can think of no better guardian for this mission than you, Vlairyn.”

There were a few moments of silence before Vlairyn laughed, her eyes drawn to the dartboard before she turned in thought.

“You can’t be serious. Xivu Arath? You can’t possibly think you can beat her, she thrives off of any and all conflict, we’ll be playing right into her hands.”

“Maybe, but this is the only good lead we have received since the attack on the Traveler. We need this. I feel that Ikora, especially, needs this. And you need this too; you have been wasting away, letting guilt and anger claw at you since Cayde’s death until nothing remains. I understand how that feels. The feeling that changes into nothingness, shrouding your mind like an inescapable fog. You need a purpose again; help us put an end to this, and perhaps you will find your long needed rest afterwards.”

There was silence in which Vlairyn contemplated the witches' words. Sure, it didn’t feel good to just sit and do nothing but the bare minimum, but the alternative always seemed to play towards the light or the dark and Vlairyn was sick of it. Perhaps Eris was right in some aspects. One mission couldn’t hurt, right?

“I get to kill some hive?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Great. What else will I be doing?” The Exo’s voice was tired, but some part of her knew Eris might be right, at least about the lead on the Witness.

“Information gathering, for now. Immaru is just as cryptic as Savathun, he was frugal with his hints and so you must be cautious.”

“Got it. I’ll pack for versatility.”

Eris only hummed before the call ended.

Mission… successful? Vlairyn wanted to say yes but she wasn’t sure. The messages that Savathun had left only brought up more questions. Figured…

Still, the feeling of crushing hive ghosts beneath her hands had been a welcomed feeling. Her aim had once again become dreadful, but she could hardly care when her armor had now been built for high resilience. Eris had been right in her need to get out of her room after all. Not that the ex-Hunter would ever do something like gloat or say “I told you so.” That was something Vlairyn liked about Eris, and why they got along so well, but the revelation that they had learned of in the spire was now making Vlairyn feel on edge as Eris seemed so willing to accept it.

“What are we doing, Eris?” Vlairyn pulled the ex-Hunter aside, a quick glance towards the ritual center, crawling with hive worms. Ikora wasn’t there yet, so they only had a few moments alone, which was all Vlairyn needed.

“Do we even know what this ritual will do to you? What if this is a trap?”

“Whether it is or not, it is our only hope to defeat Xivu Arath. I must become her equal. I am willing.”

“I’m not!” Vlairyn took Eris’s shoulder gently. “I can’t risk losing more of my friends.”

“And yet you lose yourself. Is that not more important? What good are you to your friends if all that remains is a shell? I aim to become a blade, one that I will use to cut out the hearts of our enemies.”

“Okay fine, I’m a hypocrite, I accept that- but do you even know if you’ll hold your own blade at the end of this? Can you be sure that someone else won’t hold it instead? Look, I'm only asking if you doing this is truly the best option. Can’t we have… I don’t know— Finch? Can’t Finch just resurrect his lightbearer and they do this?”

“There’s no time, and there would be no guarantee that Finch’s hive would be loyal to our cause. It has to be me, Vlairyn. Savathun knew this, her recordings hinted that much.”

“That’s what I’m worried about! If she knew, or even suspected, then there’s no guarantee that this isn’t a trap of some kind…”

“I understand your concerns, I do. But I need you behind me for this. Ikora will have her own reservations, and I need you to help me quench them or this will not work.”

She knew Eris was right, Ikora might want the Witness as much as anyone, but she had seen her fair share of the deaths of friends and wouldn’t be too keen on risking another.

“Fine… But you have to let me help you aside from that. I can’t… I can’t just watch you go down such a dark path alone.”

“Yet you are much further down your own than I am, and refuse such help.”

It was at this point that Ikora made herself known in a shimmer of transmat dust and took to standing beside Vlairyn, a silent signal between the two already there that the conversation had to stop. Vlairyn didn’t even know how to respond to Eris’s words, she was completely right and her pride hated it. This needed to stop…

“We should start.” The deep voice of Immaru broke the silence as he too joined the group, hovering in between Ikora and Vlairyn. The guardian looked at the hive ghost, the itch to crush him was immense.

“Xivu Arath draws straight from our conflict. She believes her logic absolute.” Eris nodded and grasped the staff which Immaru had granted the guardians, a relic of hive magic that looked to be made out of bone and dried ichor.

“I will grasp it, and contravene its power. There is no other way.”

Ikora crossed her arms, a look of concern on her face and rightfully so.

“But will you come back from this?”

“Does it matter if I do?” It was something Eris hadn’t said to Vlairyn, even though she had asked the same question without words. Part of it made Vlairyn wonder if it was for show, to tell Ikora that Eris wouldn’t back down from this and not that Eris had no sense of self preservation. Vlairyn wasn’t sure Ikora understood by the look on her face. The warlock looked horrified by the words that had come from her friend's mouth, and Vlairyn felt pity for the Vanguard.

“What I am has served me, and has served humanity.” Eris began making her way towards the center of the ritual circle, Ikora moving forward as well. Would the warlock really try to stop her? Would Vlairyn intervene?

“Akka… Xita… Sel…” The names of the worm gods left Eris’s mouth as she carved hive runes into the sand beneath her feet with the end of the staff.

Ikora advanced. “This is what Savathun wants!” It was said forcefully, a great parallel to Vlairyns prying questions in their prior conversation. This was why Ikora was a Vanguard and why Vlairyn was not. It almost made the Exo laugh at the thought.

“We serve our interests, not Savathuns.” Eris continued writing her runes, even through the harsh laugh of Immaru.

“Heh! She’s outmaneuvered you again.” It was a barbed comment, and Vlairyn knew exactly how to respond.

Her hand snatched him from the air, grasping his sickly green core and squeezing. Immaru let out a strangled set of cries. Oh how ridiculously easy it would be to crush him, and to never risk seeing Savathun alive again. Tempting was putting it lightly.

“This isn’t a warning, ghost. It’s a threat.” Vlairyn hissed, bringing his shell up to her face so he could see her eyes.

“Y-You need me!” His voice was strained, and yet no one moved in to stop her, she supposed they were all as distrusting of the ghost as she was. Maybe more so.

“We need your silence.” Eris cut in, nodding to Vlairyn who reluctantly released the bone-colored shell. Immaru glared at the Hunter as he grunted and growled, who only returned the favor with an equally malicious glare. She would have to keep an extra close eye on him in the future.

The runes had been completed, and so Eris handed the staff to Vlairyn, her gaze looking at both the Exo and the Warlock.

“Do not be afraid. Bear witness to my Sublimation.”

This was a show of trust. Vlairyn had every power to simply not start the ritual and so Eris’s words rang in her head.

“I need you to stand behind me.”

The Hunter nodded, and raised the staff into the air before she stuck it into the ground on one of the runes, igniting the remaining runes and the whole ritual circle into a flow of eerie green light.

“I separate the true from the dead. I am the many-mouthed hunger. I am the knife-edged truth.”

Eris was lifted into the air, and it reminded Vlairyn of the same ritual they had performed months ago on the Helm, though this was just for Eris.

“I devour the free. I conspire with my vengeance. I will take what I need. The words in my throat are the weapon in my fist. Aiat, aiat, aiat!”

A shuttering hand lifted and removed the bandage from Eris’s eyes, the thing she had never been seen without since her return from the Hellmouth. Both Vlairyn and Ikora stood, only able to watch as Eris was consumed by the hive light, her body contorting and bending and growing from what seemed to be her armor. Sharp edges protruded from her shoulders, spines grew along her back and her skin paled and warped into that of a hive. A shell of chitin grew in place of the witch’s clothing, wrapping around her mouth, her arms, and legs. Those three hellish eyes finally looked like they belonged on her body as her transformation ended and she dropped to the floor, a new and terrifying creature.

“I am the many-mouthed hunger. I am the knife-edged truth.” Her voice, while still carrying its low tone, now had the overlay of several others and she truly sounded like a hive. Vlairyn looked to Ikora and had never seen the warlock look more terrified in her life. Had this been a mistake?

“Bring me your tithes.” Her voice echoed.

Vlairyn stood in the Helm, her eyes wandering around the dark wooden shelves covered with books, the blood red carpet and cloth that draped against the walls where Eris had set up a little study room, a hive portal frame sitting in the center of the room.

The Exo lifted the staff she still carried and activated the portal. Eris had said she had wanted to meet after the ritual. It had only been a few hours since they had returned from Savathuns spire, did Eris already know what they needed? There was only one way to find out as Vlairyn stepped through the portal and into some kind of hive pocket dimension. It didn’t look like it was in Savathuns throne world, but some of the flora and fauna of the place was similar.

A great pavilion sat at the tops of eery jade steps, draped with the same blood-red cloth as it’s floor glowed with the same pattern as that of the ritual circle back in the spire. A lectern and table sat on the edge of the building, overlooking a cavern leading out to the stars that looked suspiciously like hive eyes.

“Vlairyn.” The voice seemed to echo, comping from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

“Eris?” Vlairyn ascended the stairs to the pavilion, standing in its center before Eris made herself known. She was taller, and up close Vlairyn could see the trinkets that hung from her neck, the same ones she had worn before her transformation.

“You’re… still Eris, right?” The question hung heavy in the air as the Hive god contemplated it.

“Though my form twists in this rune-bound circle, yes. I remain Eris Morn.” The Hives voice definitely had the hint of Eris’s voice, though strained and compressed by the ritual.

“Good… then I feel I can ask again. Will you let me help you? Walk this path together?”

Eris nodded, gesturing a clawed hand to the staff that Vlairyn carried. It’s bone and green ichor feeling heavy in her hands.

“A splinter of a Hive worm rests in your staff,” she says. “It is enough to bind us, and mark you as my acolyte. By the sword logic of the Hive, your conquests would strengthen me.”

This was not a command, though Eris’s voice now sounded much more commanding since the ritual. No, this was an offer.

“I said you needed purpose, Vlairyn, and you have begged to help me. Here I offer you purpose once more, to bring wrath upon the Hive so that you may tithe your enemies to me.”

She could see Vlairyn was hesitant.

“I am not given to the deep, but to vengeance. I serve no paracausal purpose but my own.”

This did grab the Exo’s attention. A third option? It had never occurred to Vlairyn that one could be hive and not serve the deep, and yet there Eris stood. With the setting of her jaw, Vlairyn looked up to meet the eyes of the Hive god.

“You feel better like this, don’t you?”

The hive seemed to chuckle, an odd sound like the clacking of bone.

“I do what is necessary, that makes my feeling better irrelevant, but in a sense, yes.”

“Then make me your acolyte, and I shall bring you the heads of our enemies.”

Eris grinned behind her chitin mask, the familiar sound and glow of transmat dust leaving something in her hands. Five items of clothing, all in the same green-tinted hive colors.

“I ask only one thing more, my friend.” Eris offered the clothing to Vlairyn, who looked upon it with a curious expression. The helmet that sat neatly atop the folded shirt and pants was like that of a hive, three tell-tail eyes glowing in a faint blue color.

“You have been mourning long enough. Take off the blue you have worn for so long, and embrace this gift I give to you. Let us show them what it is to be Hive.”

It dawned on Vlairyn what Eris was asking of her. The beep blue colors the Exo had worn for so long were in honor of Cayde, the same mourning colors she had worn to his funeral and subsequently the color she had killed Uldren Sov in. This was a request to let all that go. To start anew serving Eris until her battle with Xivu. Vlairyn couldn’t deny how much she had wanted to start over, to have something else to do besides serve paracausal beings or sit alone; so she took the clothing and armor in her hands, and was reborn.

——————————————————

BONUS:

Vlairyn slumped back against the plush gray sofa that sat in her apartment living room, the eerie green tint of her new clothes actually matched her own skin color for once, her own metal painted a bright teal. With a blink and a shimmer of dust, her helmet was whisked away, leaving a hovering Goldie in its wake.

“I know what you’re gonna say-“ Vlairyn started, convinced she was going to get a lecture about the hive.

“I’m so happy for you!”

“You what?”

The ghost wiggled with excitement, though somewhat reserved as it was a tense moment for the two of them. Goldie really didn’t want to upset his Guardian, not when she was back in the field and doing what she was good at!

“You’re not… You don’t have your reservations? No big speech on why the Hive are bad?” Vlairyn asked gently, like just mentioning it would have him go off on a tangent.

There was a pause.

“Vlairyn, I always have my reservations, but seeing you out and about again is the best thing I could ever hope for! To see you have purpose again, no matter what it is now, will always be better than seeing you waste away in this apartment.” The golden ghost spoke with utter sincerity, and he nuzzled the Hive clad hunter.

Vlairyn’s voice caught on the wires in her throat. After how horrible she had been to him, all the pushing away and terrible words exchanged he was still here.

She could feel liquid prick in her eyes.

“Goldie…” She faltered, unsure of what to say.

“It’s okay.” He said simply, an expression like that of a smile overtaking his orb.

“I thought you might at least have something to say about the new outfit.” Vlairyn returned his smile with a slight upturning of her lips.

“Oh I do. I think Eris knew exactly what she was doing when she gave it to you, and I think you look like a proper Hive killer. Can’t very well be an Acolyte in mourning clothes, can you?”

“No, I suppose not.”

And so, they sat for the remainder of the night, gently talking and bringing their broken friendship back to the surface.

#bwcfic #fanfiction #cayde 6 #destiny 2 #destiny exo #healing

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local-fanfic-addict · 1 year ago

Text

The Last Straw

Inspo: Soldier - Fleurie

Trigger Warning - Depression, Bad coping mechanisms

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“No! No, tell me- tell me what it’s done for us? Save us at the last minute after the Guardian did all the hard work for it in the Red War?” Vlairyn raised her finger in unbridled rage, attempting to keep composure that wasn’t there anymore.

“You think it’s given us eternal life because it “chose” us?” Her fingers bent to show sarcastic quotation marks. “Wherever it goes, The Darkness follows it. And when The Darkness gets here, what do you think the Traveler will do? It’ll fucking leave us high and dry like it did the Fallen. We’re not special. Not anymore. It’ll find some other race to give the greatness of its knowledge to and then leave them as soon as The Darkness comes knocking again…” If she had been human, her knuckles would be white with how hard her fingers balled themselves into her palms. She was silent for a moment, looking back at the white orb that seemed to be growing smaller by the day.

“The Traveler made us so we could fight the Darkness. You know that.” Goldie hovered next to his guardian.

“No, the Traveler made us so we could fight for it in any situation because it can’t protect itself. How is it supposed to protect us if we’re always the ones fighting?”

“The Traveler does protect us!”

“How? How powerful do you think it is if it’s constantly running away from the fight? We know what the last battle with The Darkness did to it. It was barely able to banish it, that right there should be proof enough of its power.” The Exo wore a heavy scowl on her face, her arms glued at her sides like she was trying not to snap and hit something.

“Would you rather he have died fighting? Because then none of us would be here, Vlair. Think about that, none of us. Not ghosts, not guardians; Not you, not me, not Cayde. Is that what you would want?” Tally-4 sat on a nearby railing, his arms resting gently on his legs as he spoke.

A slight grumble left Vlairyns mouth, her expression remained the same though her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. There was a brief hesitation before “Of course not.” The words sounded empty as they were spoken. Did Vlairyn actually believe that? Perhaps. Or perhaps she was just lying for her fireteams sake, for Tally's sake.

“But if the Traveler is too scared to do what it’s supposed to do, then it falls to us. Chosen or not, Traveler or not, we now have these powers and I for one choose to use them. Why else were we given stasis?”

“For this exact reason, to make you lose faith in the Traveler!” The idea that a ghost could look any more dejected and worried for his Guardian was slim, but as Goldie hovered around Vlairyns shoulders, he did. “I know you’re angry, but pushing the Traveler away won’t help. You have no idea how… cold… I’ve been while you use stasis. It’s like the Traveler- like he isn’t even there anymore…”

“Do you ever think that’s because it isn’t? This is exactly my point, Goldie! It’s already abandoning us. We can’t rely on light anymore, it has to be Darkness. We can finally fight fire with fire!” Vlairyns eyes softened and she cupped her hands around the ghost's shell. “We can fight like the light never could.”

Tally-4 huffed, hopping off the rail to face his teammate. “And since when did we become soldiers, hm? We’re not soldiers, not conquerors, not assassins, we’re guardians.”

“You can’t be serious right now. All we’ve ever been are soldiers! Fighting constantly! Battle after battle while the Traveler does nothing. There were plenty of other battles before I became a guardian, I read their history, the reports and files!” She yelled, throwing her arms into the air in exasperation.

“When was the last time we weren’t sent out to stop some world ending event? It’s always us, Tally. Always.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, her features still heavy even as her voice softened. “That’s all we are to them… to him. Immortal soldiers to throw at his enemies… And if that’s what I have to be, then fine— but I’ll do it on my own terms. With stasis.” Vlairyn started to move, only pausing when Tally-4 grabbed her arm.

“But you don’t have to be. There’s always a choice, Vlair. To be better and not succumb to the feelings of betrayal or.. or injustice.” He spoke quietly, like how one would speak to a cornered animal.

His words were only met with dry laughter as she pulled her arm away.“The injustice didn’t start here, or with me, Tally. It started when the Vanguard refused to avenge Cayde. It continued when the Traveler saw fit to give the Hive the light, and now? Leaving us and running like a coward? That’s the last straw for me.”

#bwcfic #one shot #cayde 6 #destiny 2 #destiny exo #original character #angst #cayde x oc #destiny cayde

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