#jazzhandsmcleg

[lizzieraindrops]

Destiny is a story about shapes and grief.

I think I may have figured out Destiny. I don't think the primary conflict between the Light and the Darkness is the philosophical issue we thought it was.

I got thinking about it after all this talking, with many others but especially @jazzhandsmcleg, about the way all of The Witch Queen DLC and its 4 seasons have had overarching narratives surrounding trauma and cycles of violence and grief, and the way the Darkness and the Light are characterized by their different approaches to it.

In TWQ, Savathûn is given a true second chance for her species in the Light. But as Ikora points out, she struggles to break free of the learned patterns of the Darkness, continuing the pattern of deception and violence.

Same with Season of the Risen - it’s the Warlords and Dark Ages all over again, but this time it’s the Hive. It forces once again to ask: what does it mean to be given a second chance if this is what you do with it? Temper this with Saladin’s story about the girl from the Dark Ages who he protected, but who became a cruel mortal Warlord in her own right. Crow objects to the mental torture of the Hive Lightbearers and he tries to break from the cycle of interspecies violence, but unintentionally ends up continuing it by killing the Psion and heightening tensions between humans and the Uluran.

Season of the Haunted!!! Literally, the entire thing is about confronting your traumas and greatest fears and the worst parts about yourself and beginning to heal them, making something better from them. Completely changing the game by turning Nightmares that torment into Memories that guide you. Crow with the memory of Uldren, Zavala with that of Safiyah, Caiatl that of Ghaul - and most importantly, resolution focuses on how they, specifically have been held back from healing by their self-incriminating Nightmares. It challenges the cycle of continuing violence on a very personal level. Eris even has patrol dialogue describing the a Nightmare as a thing of pain craving only more pain: "Such is the cycle."

Season of Plunder brings up the very same questions on a much higher organizational level. It gives us Eido and Eramis taking very different jaded vs. new-hope approaches to the legacy of the Whirlwind, asking: can we change? Are we defined by generational trauma forever? Can we continue to grow and change for the better even though it can never be undone? Though Eido is clearly young and naïve, we're clearly given the opportunity and narrative nudge to sympathize with her desire and hope for growth and redemption, both for the Eliksni overall, and for Eramis in particular.

And we're not even done with Season of the Seraph, but it already goes incredibly hard asking the same questions, again from a more personal angle. How far, and through how many generations is trauma transmitted? From the Bray family to Rasputin, to Felwinter to Osiris to Ikora – how do we fix this? How do we fix this? How do you defeat an enemy who IS war itself? What can you do to end an endless cosmic cycle of violence?

Go back and back and back in Destiny's lore even back to D1, and the majority of conflicts seem driven by this cycle of grief and revenge and violence. The entire line of humanity's war with the Hive goes back through Oryx's grief for Crota and the First Crota Fireteam and Eriana-3's grief for her wife Wei Ning. Even the Hive siblings' pact with the Worm Gods, though manipulated by Rhulk, was driven by the pain and grief they endured for themselves and their people, and wanting to escape that cruel pattern. The entire predicament of the Eliksni and their conflict with humans is driven by the trauma and grief and loss of the Whirlwind. Even Caiatl's empire, a conquering force that would be highly regarded by the sword logic, now must reckon with the same kind of loss in the Fall of Torobatl.

How do you escape this cycle and stay free of it?

I think, this year, we are finally seeing the beginnings of an answer.

I can't highly enough recommend the TWQ Collector's Edition lorebook (page scans & transcript) and The Hidden Dossier (page scans & transcript) that immediately follows it. What I've been calling Ikora's theory of "memory and grace" that she develops through the course of these two lore books is a balanced philosophy of memory/Darkness and grace/Light (which honestly deserves an entire post of its own). I think it clearly points toward the final resolution the story of the conflict between the Darkness and the Light.

In light of this, something in the Calus part of the new Lightfall CE lorebook (images, transcript) really jumped out at me.

“The doomed and the damned left the record of their downfall in the OXA. Your star got its name from the oldest myths in that archive. And when your mother told your father that story…the star became your name. A prayer that all will go as it must…and the way it must go is struggle.” “Aiat.” Not a word in Ulurant or any other Cabal tongue. “But Caiatl means something else..” “Yes. ‘It may not always go as it needs to go.’ A good name for a soldier." "A strange name for a daughter," I say. "Your father chose it for your mother's sake. Out of love."

And because the parallel is so overwhelmingly striking, I am once again going to reference philosophy/worldbuilding from the Young Wizards universe, which has great resonance with Destiny lore and which Bungie has been long aware of and has even been referenced in Forsaken-era canon lore.

“all the fair things skewed, all the beauty twisted by the dark Lone Power watching on his steed. If only there were some way he could be otherwise if he wanted to! For here was his name, a long splendid flow of syllables in the Speech, wild and courageous in its own way—and it said that he had not always been so hostile; that he got tired sometimes of being wicked, but his pride and his fear of being ridiculed would never let him stop. Never, forever, said the symbol at the very end of his name, the closed circle that binds spells into an unbreakable cycle and indicates lives bound the same way.” [...] “Nita bent quickly over the Book and, with the pen, in lines of light, drew from that final circle an arrow pointing upward, the way out, the symbol that said change could happen—if, only if—and together they finished the Starsnuffer’s name in the Speech, said the new last syllable, made it real.” Excerpt From: Diane Duane. “So You Want to Be a Wizard, New Millennium Edition.”

CAIATL’S NAME IS LITERALLY THE UP-AND-OUT SYMBOL.

I know I'm probably only talking to the handful of Destiny players from the (very small) Young Wizards fandom, but what you need to know is that this moment is pivotal and sets up the series-long theme of hope for an eventual exit from the cycle. It's the incredibly small, overwhelmingly improbable possibility of a second chance, a new start for the Lone Power, the source of all strife and suffering, who itself is driven by loss and pain. A concept of extended grace that is inherently tied to the philosophy of the Light.

“Billions of years, it took. All the redemptions there have ever been went toward this; from the greatest to the least. And finally in the fullness of time you came along, and took my role, of your own will, and woke up a race powerful enough to change the whole Universe, and gave them the fire.” She glanced up at the mobiles and smiled. “How could he resist such a bait? He took the gamble: he always does. And losing, he won.” [...] “The Defender reached down and put a hand into the shadow. “And we are going where such matters are transcended… where all his old pains will shift. Not forgotten, but transformed. Life in this universe will never have such a friend. And as for His inventions… look closely at Death, and see what it can become.” The long, prone darkness began to burn, from inside, the way a mountain seems to do with sunset. “Brother,” the Defender said. “Come on. They’re waiting.” Excerpt From: Diane Duane. “High Wizardry New Millennium Edition.”

This is the devil’s second chance, its homecoming. Grace among the memory. How do we heal this? By fixing it. By making and TAKING that opportunity of grace.

Likewise, Destiny is shaping up into its own universe’s story of this Reconfiguration, the remaking of everything that exists through the act of a second chance, both offered and taken, with full awareness of the irreversibility of harm already caused.

Destiny isn’t the story of the light and the darkness fighting each other. That happens, but that’s not what it’s ABOUT.

It’s “And I know exactly what we are. We’re best frenemies with a history of intense mutual hurt and messy reconciliation, leaving a deep tenderness as well as an almost impenetrable knot of scars. What could be simpler?” (Chalco)

It's “For so long, I believed peace was beyond my reach. No more. I have found it in guiding others down the same path that saved me. But… I might allow myself to want more than peace. What, I am not certain. Is joy the word? Might I find that again?” (Eris)

It's “Second chances… hm. Turns out I've been using mine wrong. I thought being a Guardian was my destiny. That wielding the Light for good was the most I had to offer. But it's clear now. This is what the Traveler chose me for. I was reforged in the Light for a purpose. To remake something dead and gone… into something beautiful. To learn how to forge something new from what we were. Everything Uldren did to the Reef, the Scorn… Fikrul. I have a responsibility — no — a calling to make them whole. And… I can't replace Cayde. But I can cover his old patrols — maybe organize the Hunters a bit, if they'll let me. Clean up some of my mess. I don't know if I can fix everything Uldren left broken… but I can try.” (Crow)

We aren’t defeating the Darkness. That’s never what it’s been about. It’s about breaking the cycle of trauma and grief with memory and grace. We're transcending the Final Shape, but we're not here to destroy it or become it. We’re harmonizing the Darkness and the Light into a sustainable balance to create something new from the wounded remains.

We're here to heal the broken relationship between the Winnower and the Gardener.

That's all that it is, in the end. They had a falling out, and now they hurt, and they hurt each other, and everything else, forever. Breaking free from that cycle begins and ends with them.

Is that fair? No, it's not.

But Destiny is – unhingedly, brilliantly, paradoxically – a FPS game about how to stop killing each other, growing ever more into a framework of restorative and reparative justice.

The story says, we are all culpable, we have all done awful shit and have endless potential to do more awful shit – AND, most critically, we all have the potential to do better (grace). AND, the act of making the conscious choice to do so and letting that happen is the only way for things to get better (memory).

The Collapse happened and it was horrible, the Red War happened and it was horrible, the Great Disaster happened and it was horrible, Twilight Gap happened and it was horrible...AND?? HOW ARE YOU GOING TO RESPOND? The Whirlwind happened and it was horrible! The Fall of Torobatl happened and it was horrible! Your species' Choice was stolen and you became the most prolifically violent killers in the universe and it was and is horrible! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?

Are you going to make it more horrible? Or are you going to make it BETTER????

Are you going to fight for the Final Shape, or for the gentle kingdom ringed in spears?

[anonforlackofabettername]

happy birthday!!

Thanks! I appreciate it 🥰💜

[azvolrien]

jazzhandsmcleg replied to your post:

LOVE this. My favorite parts are how reasonable the fare is and the fact that the Dogleg line is very much just that. XD Are the trams gryphon-accessible??

The fares are inspired by (though somewhat cheaper than) how it works on the buses here in Edinburgh. So if you're only going to be taking one or two trams in any given day, it's cheaper to just pay each journey individually, but if you're going to be taking three or more then a day ticket is more economical.

And they try to be! The trams are designed so that the doors, stairs and seating areas have enough room to fit an average-sized gryphon, though a particularly big one like Redbolt might still find it an uncomfortable squeeze. Gryphons are generally more likely to just fly to wherever they're going, though, so they don't feel this is in urgent need of correction. Bear in mind, Stormhaven isn't a huge city by the standards of the real world; it's only about three miles across.

[nimblermortal]

If you get this, answer w/ three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs. anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog!

Sorry, Nonny, this has been sitting in my inbox for ages. Kept a record of the blogs in question when I first saw this, but uhh I don't believe in chain mail so I'll just tag 'em at the end if they wanna.

Rule in exchange: Anyone who wants can consider this an ask from me in their inbox, BUT you gotta tag me in your answer so I can read it.

I've taken up spinning lately, very desultorily, because I don't have enough projects. The results are NOT usable except a) very popular with cats and b) Cosimo (Havanese puppy) disemboweled my bigger ball. Do recommend as a pet toy, and recommend puppies if you want to start over with over-spun yarn. Start over from cleaning and carding, I mean.

I'm working on my third gallon of blood for the Red Cross. They desperately want me to get closer ASAP, but I've got a gaping wound in my back and I need my blood right now. It hurts to not give in and give blood.

When I was itty I wanted to be a dog so bad I made my family serve me meals under the table and sat among their legs trying to eat without my hands. This lasted roughly between the ages of 3 and 8.

@raven-6-10 @jazzhandsmcleg @lukiyu @hello-delicious-tea @ionlywanttoreadforever @starfishlikestoread @that-gay-jedi

[songofwizardry]

tag meme!

thank you @operafloozy for the tag!

three ships: beauyasha (critical role), shadowgast (critical role), and one of my oldest loves, elrond/gil-galad (tolkien)

first ever ship: possibly wolfstar from my harry potter fandom days, but before that (before i really knew what i was doing or that i was shipping) i wrote and read lots of mallory towers fanfic and had gay thoughts about it (bill/clarissa and darrell/alicia stand out in my mind).

last song: factories by autoheart

last movie: ... possibly red white and royal blue?

currently reading: just started my reread of harrow the ninth by tamsyn muir, also reading the fifth season by n.k. jemisin, have been reading the liveships series by robin hobb for like a year bc i keep forgetting to continue reading it; and for poetry, slowly working my way through your emergency contact has experienced an emergency by chen chen. also, idk if this counts as reading, but i am once again Attempting Homestuck and it may stick this time. we'll see.

currently watching: season 3 of house, campaign 3 of critical role, season 1 of dimension 20: the unsleeping city (rewatch)

currently consuming: i have just finished my coffee

currently craving: it is starting to get chilly and autumnal, and so i daydream of an electric blanket and really good hot chocolate

no-pressure tags! @abelovedfool @jazzhandsmcleg @halfelven @calliopecadence @demigirl-demigod

[crow-posting]

update: @jazzhandsmcleg uploaded Entelechy from the Final Shape collector's edition! Be sure to check out the doc and thank them for their hard work!

-

[from original post]

"It has page numbers in their original locations, photos with text IDs, and a link to the IMGUR photos of the physical lorebook that I used for transcription. Enjoy!"

Since Destiny lore is inaccessible (I've seen the question, "Do Guardians need to eat?" cross my dash several times and it's Driving Me Nuts™), here are some users and resources I use when searching for lore/grimoire:

@thefirstknife on Tumblr

My Name Is Byf on YouTube

Destiny Lore Vault on YouTube

www.Ishtar-Collective.net

Destinypedia.com

Destiny Dialogue Archive

Destiny Definitions [flavor text] Archive

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Destiny 1 Grimoire lore (PDFs)

Destiny Collector's Edition lore (Reddit links)

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Destiny 1 beta archive & cutscene archive

Destiny 2 Cutscene Archive [Seasons 13-20]

[jazzhandsmcleg]

azvolrien replied to your post: jazzhandsmcleg: I’m in the middle of the long...

I saw a goldcrest while out on site this week!

What a cute little bird! I learned some stuff while looking them up. They have a MASSIVE territory. I also learned that they are sometimes called the king of the birds, which seems like quite a lofty title for something so small. Good for them.

Here’s the one I saw -- a vermilion flycatcher.

This pic and the one I saw the other day were both males. Apparently the male vermilion flycatcher is the rare exception to the general rule that Flycatchers Are Drab. The females can get a little pink, though, like if you took a British robin and swapped the white and pink areas.

[emeraldskulblaka]

Get To Know Me

I was tagged by @erdariel to do this tag game, thank you so much!! ♡

favourite colours: green & red

currently reading: the Peristephanon by Prudence

last song: "After The Rain (Radio Edit)" by Eurielle

last movie: In the Heights (2021)

last TV series: The Witcher

sweet, savoury or spicy: sweet

currently craving: sleep

currently working on: questions on a text for tomorrow's English class

Tagging @sirona-art @onewhodarestohope @jazzhandsmcleg @nimuerofour @justsomeghostofme! No pressure, feel free to ignore 💚

[azvolrien]

jazzhandsmcleg replied to your post: The Bastion

I don’t know why exactly but I’m just tickled by the construct that walks on the waterwheel. Is there a class element to the question of horses vs. constructs?

Yes, but the exact nature of that element can vary depending on where you are. It’s kind of like owning a horse vs owning a car; for people in urban areas where there’s less room to keep one, owning an actual flesh-and-blood horse can be a bit of a status symbol considering all the expenditure needed to feed and house it, whereas you don’t need to feed a construct and it doesn’t need more space than the amount it physically occupies (and it differs from a car in that you don’t need to fuel it, either).

On the other hand, constructs and the workshops that make them are much fewer and further-between out in more remote rural areas and both space and horse feed are at less of a premium, so someone having a personal construct is generally a sign that they’ve gone to some trouble to acquire it - a bespoke construct is expensive, though there are cheaper options (e.g. built ones are cheaper than grown ones, and ones built for a general market will be cheaper than those made for a specific customer). Sometimes rural communities band together to commission one that they can all use on a rota, like how several different farmers in a given area might share the same combine harvester, but overall you’re still more likely to see living horses used as working animals.

[azvolrien]

jazzhandsmcleg replied to your post:

oh to be an old man on a horse with an incredibly judgemental drinking horn

He looks like he’s had a good night out, doesn’t he? XD

[nimblermortal]

@adroitjackal tagged me!

rules: choose 4 of your favourite characters from 4 pieces of media as options and let your tumblr pals decide which one most suits your vibe

I’ll tag @unfavorableinstigation and uhhhhh @jazzhandsmcleg, and anyone else who wants it

[lizzieraindrops]

Ikora is terrified of losing Eris now that she has become the Hive god of vengeance. The long tension between them has finally been driven to breaking point. Can the two of them reconcile their conflicts and misunderstandings before it might be too late?

Some good old-fashioned monster-loving.

I simply cannot accept that so few Eris/Ikora monsterfucker fics have been written when Season of the Witch offered them up to us on a silver platter. I had to take matters into my own hands. So I offer you: some deeply fucked-up women who love each other so very much. Absolute shout-out to my mvp of a beta @jazzhandsmcleg.

Liminal - Chapter 1 (1728 words)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

All things considered, Ikora has done a remarkable job of keeping her apprehensions under control. However, after a violent week of tithes and transformations, Eris turns an assessing look upon her as they discuss strategy in the HELM.

"You are troubled by this," she says flatly. Ikora cannot deny it, so she doesn't. Although Eris' posture these days is already impeccable, she draws herself up even taller as if bracing for something where she stands, precisely in the center of the stern wing of the HELM. The shimmer of the Hive portal to the Athenaeum behind her frames an imposing portrait. "Is it the form my vengeance takes that upsets you, or the part of me that chooses to take it?"

The impact of those words in Ikora's chest makes her gape in dismay. "Eris, no, that's not..." The sheer harshness of perspective that only shows Eris possibilities of judgement leaves Ikora at a rare loss for words. She surges a step forward before halting her half-reaching hand, retreating like an uncertain eddy in the water.

"My concern is for your safety, Eris. I have others, but none so pressing as that."

After a moment's consideration, Eris turns away. "Of course it is." She sounds faintly abashed. “Nonetheless, I must press forward. Surely you can see that this is the best strategy available to us."

With another soft step that narrows the gap between them, Ikora dares to lay a hand on Eris' upper arm. Though she is often strict about intrusions into her personal space, Eris merely turns back to her in open surprise.

"As far as I can tell, it is the only option currently offered to us. I don't like it. But it is where we are."

Eris acknowledges her with a nod, but dissatisfaction still shutters her demeanor.

With a light squeeze on her arm, Ikora asks: "What is it, Eris?"

Eris does not meet her concerned gaze. "The shape of my vengeance has not changed, only altered its direction as I have walked its path. This spell unbinds the limits of my body, yes, but the shape I take within it is still mine. It has always been a part of me. Did you know that, before this?"

They do not move except to breathe, drawing neither further away nor closer together. Ikora thinks long and hard, reaching for both honesty and compassion.

"I'm not sure that I can ever know it with the same intimacy that you do. The Hive and their lore have been so intertwined into your life, but...you are the only one who can decide their role within it. They can't. You've clearly demonstrated that over the years. And neither can I. While I don't think I knew the depth of that connection, before, I understand that this is how you are choosing to define it."

Silence. "You didn't answer my question."

Ikora had, but only the surface inquiry, not the deeper meaning beneath it. Do you realize that this monstrosity is not only who I have become, but part of who I have always been? Has it changed how you see me? "You didn't actually ask it," she says quietly.

Eris gestures open-palmed acceptance. In her other hand, her lurid Ahamkara bone casts shadows and sickly green light that wreath about it in perpetual unrest.

Ikora would not make her ask.

"I didn't know, not quite. But all of...this, it makes sense for the Eris I do know. It's everything you've ever striven for since you escaped the Hellmouth. I don't fear that this spell is controlling you, because I know you are perfectly capable of choosing such a drastic course of action all on your own. And I will defend your actions to the others, despite my own fears for you."

Eris lays a gauntleted hand over hers in brief acknowledgement. "I believe you, I think. Time will tell."

Ikora nods. Her heart sinks, but the soft rebuff does not take her by surprise. She had not supported Eris through the relatively tame controversy of acquiring Stasis: why would Eris rely on her now? "Truth in action," she says like a promise. Their old refrain, from long before this; before many of the latest losses in their neverending list. Asher. Sagira. The Traveler itself. Everything they still have to lose looms over them like a promise of failure.

Yet Ikora is rewarded with a faint smile. It only soothes the very edges of her glass-sharp fears, and only for a little while. That is not the reason why she treasures it, why she tucks it away deep within herself where the shards will have to tear through her own flesh before they can take it from her.

___

As the weeks pass and Eris grows ever stronger by the tithes of the sword, Ikora keeps her promise despite her concerns growing in tandem.

She maintains her distance from the throne world. She has many other duties, after all, when she needs to keep her mind off this mission of utmost critical importance. But she remains within close call on comms as often as possible while Guardians cavort through the endless, treacherous floors of the Spire, sweeping across its buried Altars like a wavefront of death.

She has not seen Eris transform since that first time; never up close. But her voice changes as she drinks the lakes of lifeblood Guardians spill upon Savathûn's Altars for her. In its cadence and flourish, it's completely recognizable as hers; but the deepened tone and even fuller timbre buzzes in layered intervals, at turns grating against or harmonizing alongside each other. The sound of it makes Ikora shiver to hear, even over comms. The many voices of the many-mouthed hunger multiply and grow ever more potent. How much more Hive-sculpted power can she possibly contain without searing herself from the inside out?

Yet whenever they meet to discuss strategy, Eris is the same as ever. Perhaps she stands a little taller, now, a little prouder in the shoulder than before. She has every right to do so. She is a god now.

It makes Ikora's heart quail like nothing else has in her life. She is losing her. She cannot stop her. She can only aid her, so she does. She tries. Her chest won't stop hurting no matter how long she ignores it.

In a feeble attempt to wrest a nonexistent solution from an impossible situation, she meets Eris at the Lectern in the Athenaeum to assess her Deck of Whispers. Perhaps before the sheer force and breadth of Ikora's analytical skills, the strange cards' paracausal potential will yield something, anything—anything.

She is losing hope that she can make any difference to Eris' survival. Once more betrayed by her doubts, the shivering of Ikora's traitor heart makes her hands just a little unsteady as she draws a card from the gleaming deck.

Before she can turn the card over, Eris closes her fingers on the other end of it. Surely she feels the tremor through the heavy gilded paper. For a moment, thick silence holds them.

"Even you tremble in my presence now?" Eris asks softly.

"What?" Ikora whispers, crestfallen.

"It is all right," Eris says. Her voice hangs heavy with resignation. Her hand falls from the card as she retreats. "Others who did not shrink from me before do, now. I merely thought...you never recoiled from me even at my worst. But I know what I have embraced goes far beyond what most could condone. I could never expect of you—"

"Eris, do you think that I am—afraid of, or—repulsed," she lets the word fall off her tongue like vomit. "By—this? By you?"

"You have every right to be."

Whatever Ikora had been feeling before, this is far worse. "Eris, no. No..." Ikora puts her card down on the Lectern’s table without even looking at it and reaches for the hand Eris has withdrawn. So gently, she cups those slack fingers in her own palms, as if they were burned and in need of bandaging. "That's not it at all. Please don't think so little of me."

"I don't. I have always thought most highly of you. Therefore, I should expect you to eschew...this."

Ikora sighs. "I may have reservations about the high risks of your strategy, Eris, but that doesn't mean I'm going to abandon you. I won’t listen to you speak of yourself this way." Then again, can she truly blame Eris for expecting more of the same pattern? "I know that my actions in the past have given you reason to expect such disregard. And for that, Eris...I'm sorry."

Eris stands silent for a moment. "That is kind of you to say." Her tone is smooth with sincerity, yet relatively unaffected. What she leaves unspoken sours the air between them like the obscuring cloud of a Wizard's poison curse. Her hand twitches in Ikora's as if to draw away. Ikora wraps her fingers more firmly about hers, but not so tightly that Eris cannot escape.

Desperate not to let any more of her actions drive Eris further away, Ikora speaks before she even knows what she intends to say, only that she means it.

"Will you transform for me?"

Silence rings. Standing perfectly still, Eris stares at her. "Why?" Minimal emotion inflects her voice, neither reluctant nor eager, but more simply curious than anything else.

Ikora chooses her next words very carefully.

"I wish to bring my actions into harmony with what I speak." Her heart is pounding like a premonition of battle, except for the fact that Ikora is afraid.

For a long time, Eris merely watches her. Then, in a strange, delicate voice, she says: "Yes. Then I shall."

A chill like undiffused static runs down Ikora's back, and it is not unpleasant. A gleam of blue catches the corner of her eye among the green chiaroscuro of the Athenaeum. The card she had cast aside lies face-up on the red velvet tablecloth, showing jagged curves that branch off a whirl of crackling Arc energy. She had drawn Liminal.

The spiking electric potential between them reaches a height that makes her skin prickle. For the first time, Ikora thinks she may finally understand the beauty, the glorious inevitability, encapsulated in the prayer and invocation of Aiat.

[besidemoonlight]

Oh my god I love him! What a sweet color palette too! Thank you so much!!! @jazzhandsmcleg

Part 1 of Dogcember is from 1-15 December 2021. For this, I will be drawing dogs. If you want me to draw your dog, reblog this post with a photo of your dog, and in the body of the post (not the tags), include the dog’s name. I will draw all the valid requests I receive within that time period.

Only one request at a time; but once you’ve received your request, you can make another request, and so on.

Only one photo per request; you decide which picture you want me to draw.

Only one dog per request; if your photo has multiple dogs in it, be very clear about which one you want me to draw.

You can put in a request as long as it’s the specified time period, somewhere in the world.

No pugs.

It’s acceptable to request a picture of a friend’s dog or a relative’s dog or a dog you sometimes babysit; the important thing is that you have a connection to that dog, and it’s not just some random photo you found.

Black lives matter, and trans rights are human rights.

I’ll be drawing them in the order I receive them; if it looks like I missed your request, drop me a line, it might have happened because hellsite.

[lizzieraindrops]

Ikora and Eris return to the library once more, where they discuss many important things that have gone unspoken between them over the years.

Many thanks yet again to my intrepid beta reader @jazzhandsmcleg

Presence and Absence - Chapter 3 (3659 words)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

They were back in the library.

Rather than her armchair, Eris had curled herself into one corner of a long sofa, comfortably lounging against its padded arm. Ikora had settled by the opposite arm with a datapad and a book in tow. That left a comfortable space between them: neither too close and tense nor too far and somber.

They had settled back into this quiet room deep in the stone labyrinth of the Tower libraries. Here they were unlikely to be disturbed. Few aside from the Hidden ever used these hallways, and no debriefs were expected today or the next. A long stained glass window near the ceiling threw colors Ikora had never seen before against the east wall with the afternoon sun: before the Traveler ascended from the City, the daylight had rarely touched it. The unprecedented color cast the retreat in an ethereal, dissonant sense of déja vu rather than comfortable familiarity. 

With a ding from her datapad, a triple-encrypted reply from Chalco arrived via the Hidden communications channel. As usual, her missive got right to the point with minimal preamble or pretention.

The concept that Strand as a form of Darkness could be used to enable true telepathy—rather than the appearance of it, as with your probability-based paracausal prescience—is intriguing and well worth a closer look. We have already seen something similar in the long-distance mental connections formed by the egregore network. That said, the experience you're describing sounds more like an ambient, proximity-based effect rather than an intentional communication.

However—Ikora, I have to ask. Did you really have to do actual telepathy to know how she feels about you?

Rubbing at her brows, Ikora inhaled slowly through her nose. A deeply exhausted sigh soughed out of her lungs.

"What is it?" Eris' question broke into her thoughts. She looked up with a start. Eris lifted herself off the arm of the couch, leaning a little toward Ikora's side of it with a concerned twist to her mouth.

"Just a message from Chalco," she said.

"That more commonly brings a smile to your lips than a sigh. Is she all right?"

"Oh, yes, quite. She's just...enjoying some humor at my expense."

Eris chuckled at that, the menace. She adjusted the hood of her casual tunic—deep green this time—and relaxed against the arm of the sofa once more.

The annoyed look Ikora threw her way was undermined by a budding smile. Hunters. They had a way with humor that she missed when they were inevitably off roaming the system. Or, of course, further abroad than they could return from. Remembering that dampened her smile into something fond yet pained.

"What occupies your thoughts?" Eris asked. Her fingers danced as she ran the ribbon of her bookmark between them above the open ivory pages. It was a stripe of darkest teal, like her talismans, weaving among the many discolored, irregular lines that broke up the tan of her skin. Those scars were so numerous they almost resembled a natural cryptic pattern, like a tiger hidden in the rainforest by its stripes.

Ikora mentally shook herself and answered the question she had been asked. "I've been thinking about the Darkness, among other things." Namely, Eris. But the new revelations of the Darkness had indeed remained in the forefront of her mind, lately. "It's as if its potential applications are ever broadening. First Stasis, now Strand; egregore, and the Veil... It's hard to believe we've learned so much in so short a time. Although we still know so little. And yet..." Ikora trailed off.

Eris' head tilted. The unbroken green of her gaze shifted as if focusing and bade Ikora continue her train of thought. But Ikora had not shared her theory with anyone. She had made some study of Strand, yes, once it was clear that it did not spring from the Pyramids at the behest of the Witness like Stasis. She had even speculated openly with her former mentor Osiris about Strand's strange nature and provenance.

But she had not told anyone that she, too, had come to a quiet yet undeniable certainty about the necessity of the Darkness as well as the Light. As long as she, Ikora Rey, was Vanguard, then that truth could never become public knowledge. That would place her in a very difficult position, indeed. Traveler, she would never hear the end of it if Aunor found out.

Yet...this was Eris. Ikora knew, instinctively, even without assessing the probabilities, that she would understand. Indeed, Ikora's theory dovetailed neatly into the interpretation of Darkness as a neutral tool, of which Eris had been among the strongest proponents since Stasis was first revealed.

She caught Eris' eyes once more. She could whisper this truth to her—to her alone where no one else would hear. And Eris was still waiting: waiting for her, like the second step of a coincidence that could yet coalesce into a new pattern, given a third.

Ikora took a deep breath.

"You were right, Eris."

The glow of Eris' eyes brightened, but Ikora could not tell what emotion made them do so. Still, Eris clearly sensed the gravity of Ikora's admission. "About what?"

"The Darkness. I still don't think Stasis is safe for everyone—myself included, if I'm honest. But neither is the Light. We've known that since—well, ironically, the Dark Age."

Once she started, the words started falling from Ikora's mouth almost as fast as her thoughts. She only hoped they made any sense at all without being inside her head.

"The thing is: if I follow the philosophy of the Light, then I accept that our whole life as Risen is a second chance, regardless of the choices we made before. Then I, too, like the Traveler, must accept the possibility of bad choices. That's what the freedom to choose means. Otherwise it is not free. And that very freedom is what enables change. How else could we ever escape from cycles of destruction? But this requires I trust that the risk of catastrophic failure is worth the hope of potential success.

"Yet after long enough to think on what we have learned of the Darkness—what you have taught us—as well as what we know of the Light: I think I, too, understand the need for a kind of balance between them. Darkness isn't evil or finality or whatever else the Witness has twisted its use toward. Darkness is memory . And remembering is the only way to keep the inevitable bad choices from going worse. The risk then becomes falling into the rut of repetition, failing to allow room for change and growth. That is where the Light enters to let us try again, affording us grace where none exists. And to temper the effacement of renewal, the Darkness is what lets us learn."

Eris stared. It was quite the challenge to resist squirming under that intense triple gaze. But when at last Eris spoke, she did so as softly as if approaching a frightened creature.

"How long have you been thinking about this?"

Ikora dropped her eyes to her hands, curled tightly around the spine of her book. "Quite some time. More often, since you wrote to me from Europa."

"More than two years, and you've told no one." It wasn't a question. "That is a burdensome weight."

"I'm telling you now."

"And I am deeply honored. Will you let me help you bear it?"

Ikora looked up. "How?"

Eris looked up into the distance beyond the translucent color of the window, as if gathering her thoughts. "Perhaps it would soothe you to know that the truth you speak resonates closely with a truth to which I cleave. I have long held that change itself is enabled by accepting and acting upon the very possibility of change. Indeed, that is one of the greater reasons I both accepted Stasis and why I succeeded in mastering it. I chose to approach Darkness as something that need not inherently seed destruction."

Ikora hung silently on her words with a thoughtful nod. After having come to a similar conclusion herself, this made sense. It eased something within her, like a painful knot finally unraveled, to hear the understanding for which she had so struggled echoed back to her from another perspective. She was shocked by how desperately she had needed exactly that. Eris took her attentiveness as a sign to continue.

"I risked much in doing so, and at times despair nearly overtook me. I have no doubt I could have become whatever it is Elisabeth fears when she looks through me. Without the help and guidance of others—Elisabeth herself, the Drifter, the Queen—I would have been lost. The Awoken's unique perspectives on the Darkness and the Light have long been a particular comfort to me, living as I do between both. I imagine Queen Mara might have worthwhile wisdom to share with you, should you ever ask.

"But all this would have been for naught, had I not learned how to accept that support from others. That was the hardest, simplest, and most critical lesson. One that you had the greatest hand in teaching me."

"Me?"

Eris inclined her head.

"How?"

"By continuing to care about me, after the Hellmouth and beyond."

"I was not the only one. Surely Asher–"

"Cousin Asher understood my struggle with the Hive through his own conflict with the Vex in a way no other could; the unique parallels of our trials made us kin. I still mourn his absence dearly. But you had no such frame of reference for understanding what I went through, and yet you still insisted upon caring for me. Listening to me as if I were not mad, at a time when few did. Simply being there for me with compassion, time and again...you made me believe I could trust others again, even if it took me so very long to be able to act upon it. After all the loneliness and betrayal I have experienced, that was as unlikely as my own survival.

"That very relearning of trust saved me in my struggle with Stasis. Your treating me as someone who could be saved itself preserved me, even if neither of us knew it at the time."

"Eris..." Regret and guilt reared their hydra heads. "I'm sorry I never replied to your letter, back then. I didn't know how. I've needed all this time to come to terms with what you discovered on Europa."

"I know. This understanding takes time to truly root itself. I forgave you long ago."

Oh, Eris. Ikora could not have predicted that this day would bring her here, where so many of the things left unsaid between them were finally spoken. It hurt in the way of healing. She could see in Eris' face that she was similarly affected, though handling it better.

But there remained some mysteries that Ikora still wanted to understand.

"What was it you were searching for in the throne world earlier?"

Eris blinked in surprise at the apparent change of subject, but answered readily enough. "I have lived so long upon the sustenance of vengeance, even before this. I needed to know whether I still felt the need to exact it when faced again with the Hive. Whether, perhaps, I had become trapped in their cycle of violence despite all my attempts to open it, to end it."

"...And did you?"

Eris shrugged. "The well-trod habit remains, as will the harm they have done me. But the impulse is mild. I have no need to fear that it will control me against my will. I think I am ready to let it rest."

As the meaning of Eris' words settled upon her, a wish Ikora had never thought to entertain again returned to her. It was still as quietly insistent as ever, even after all these years since she had deliberately rejected and silenced and forgotten it as an impossibility. "Does that mean you are going to stay, this time?"

Slowly, Eris nodded. "Once I have recovered somewhat, I may wander on occasion. I have never been one to remain static. But I have no real desire to leave. Truly, I never have."

"Wait—never?" How could that possibly be true? She had refused Ikora's entreaties to stay so many times.

Eris smiled ruefully. "Why do you think I never lingered here with you before, like this?" She lifted both hands and gestured around and between them, somehow in the articulate arch of her fingers encompassing every bright and tangled emotion that was clamoring within Ikora. "I knew if I did, I could not bring myself to leave, to do what needed to be done: what only I alone could do. But now I have done it. Therefore, here I am."

Ikora looked away from her and stared into the distance, letting the deluge of new understanding wash over her. They kept company in silence for a few minutes.

"When we were walking earlier," Eris began, quiet yet unrelenting. When did she get closer than her end of the sofa? "More than anything else, do you know what I ended up thinking of?"

Ikora froze. "Yes," she whispered.

Despite the certainty of her earlier unexpected revelation, Ikora could not now tell what Eris would do. There were too many possible outcomes after this moment. The unaccustomed buzzing of her mind obfuscated vectors of cause and effect, perhaps because she was still struggling to determine what kind of result she wanted—lack of a clear goal had always made it impossible to call a desired response from the chaos of existence. And yet, maybe it was not that Ikora did not know what she wanted; rather, she had too long avoided thinking about it to admit it.

"Ikora. My friend." That resonant voice delivered the simple address so warmly. Eris reached out to smooth the bent edge of Ikora's collar with a casual hand. The gesture made Ikora's breath catch. "My...old friend," Eris said, as if trying to find the right words. "My ever-ally. My first defender. My always faithful." Struck by her open gratitude, Ikora lightly touched Eris' wrist with her fingertips.

"Faith?" Ikora asked. Her voice caught and cracked slightly on the vowels.

"What else would you call the gift you have always given me? Even when you have doubted, you have never deserted me."

"I... Eris, I couldn't just leave you to do any of this alone. You're the one who..." always left, she did not say. The City. The planet. Me. But that was not exactly true, not anymore.

Eris heard her meaning anyway.

"I know." Sorrow hung heavier than usual in that mournful voice. "The pain I have caused you has always been one of my greatest regrets. And for that reason, I have treasured your faith all the more, bestowed in grace despite my inconstancy."

Words left Ikora. She clutched at Eris' arm to try and stay the rending in her chest. She would almost rather they had both continued to let her efforts go unacknowledged. That way, Ikora could have continued ignoring that pain, too. Now, with this slightest breach of recognition, the long-pent hurt was escaping her control.

Ikora drew labored breaths from the air between them, struggling to master herself.

"Ikora?" Another hand covered hers.

"Why now?" she whispered. Her voice was hoarse.

Inextricable emotions flickered across Eris' surprisingly expressive face, all too quickly to identify. Surely she was trying to voice what Ikora already knew, that things had changed, they had changed, that Eris was no longer bound to her purpose now that it was complete and therefore Ikora was no longer overpowered by the fear of what would happen to her in pursuit of it, and even all that paled like dawn in the face of the fact that they had been dancing around each other for so insufferably long and the incandescent truth of what Ikora had already known this whole damned, Light-forsaken time, that the two of them were–

"My dear Ikora. You are my heart."

Right, Ikora thought weakly. That. She trembled before Eris' ardent sincerity. The tender touch of the hand on her cheek nearly undid her.

So close as they were now, Eris' gaze drew inevitably down toward Ikora's lips, then back up to her eyes. That simple flickering of mutual awareness sang through Ikora like a plucked string of anticipation.

But in that pivotal moment, what Ikora wanted more than anything else was to hug Eris so fiercely and completely—to hold her so close to her heart that she could not possibly doubt how much Ikora loved her.

So she did.

The compression of her arms drove an awkward wheeze out of Eris' lungs and sent her limbs awry. The way her ribs contracted and immediately expanded again beneath her touch to laugh directly into Ikora's ear–

The softness and solidity of Eris' arms curling around her in turn was precious beyond words. Eris placed her palm against one of Ikora's cheeks, and her lips against the other. Then she bent to lean her forehead against her temple, the cloth of her blindfold soft on her skin. Not only was she so close, she was here , with Ikora.

They held each other for quite some time. Then, Eris fidgeted in her embrace and withdrew the smallest distance.

For only the second time in the long intersection of their lives, Eris removed the bandage that shielded her eyes from the light. She did not hesitate, but she did move slowly, deliberately. It gave them both time to remember the first in Eris' initial transformation ritual. This time, it was not an act of defiance, but acceptance. Of trust.

Once the cloth was set aside, scar-roughened yet tender hands cradled Ikora's face.

"It's good to finally see your eyes."

"They do not remind you of my Hive morph?"

"No. Even in your morph, they only ever reminded me of you. That's how I knew the Harbinger was still you."

"I did not know you were such a romantic."

"Eris, I..." Ikora faltered, her heart beating and beating.

Eris placed a single finger on Ikora's lips. Then she looked up into her eyes. "May I?"

She could, and she did.

___

Later, when the prismed sunlight had slid up to the top shelf of books and vanished in a gleam of amber behind the Wall that ringed the City, two women lay side by side on a long couch in silence and comfort. Though they faced opposite directions, leaning on each arm with their legs parallel, their ease in each other's company was self-evident. They lay there dozing together, not touching but merely centimeters apart.

Ikora had surfaced back into consciousness some time ago. The memories of where she was, who she was with, and what had passed between them had returned to her and then left her wondering at the profound awareness of the deepest calm she had ever felt. Like an inverse of the inevitable stillness of the Void, this moment of her existence traced the sheer gravity of presence rather than absence. Furthermore, it was not Eris' presence that applied that grounding weight, although she had been the catalyst.

It was Ikora's.

Ikora was utterly, implacably present in a way that had nothing to do with Light or power or intent. It was like the honed clarity of meditation, but effortless and undirected. It made the simple act of breathing a bodily revelation. Lungs expanded; limbs sank into worn cushions. Skin noted the movements of the air, the flaxen weave of linen or the suppleness of silk. None of it was a warning or a prediction or a goal or a hope. It merely was; and, too, was she.

By contrast, the sudden inundation in her own existence showed Ikora how accustomed to detachment she had become. She did not regret it: at times, such was a necessary skill, and not only for those who shouldered the responsibility of Vanguard. And yet the knowledge touched her with an unfamiliar sorrow.

Still...she hadn't felt anything like this inner gravity for such a long time. In all likelihood, such groundedness had eluded her since before she had taken the Vanguard post in Osiris' stead centuries ago. At the thought, a previously unheard echo of neglected mourning sounded like a distant keen from some deep place lost within herself. Gazing unmoving at the soft arc of cool moonlight over book spines, Ikora rested there with the knowledge that she would need to answer it someday.

But for now, she was here. Eris was with her. She had reasonable hope that they might share more of each other's presence as they moved forward from this confluence of time and space. The world to come was a paralysis of possibilities, most of them worrisome. But then, perhaps that had always been true. In the meantime, this moment was a blessing of clarity.

Eris turned in her sleep. Her knee nudged into Ikora's calf. As her hand encountered a fold of Ikora's robe, she grasped at the hem unconsciously. With the fabric between her fingers, she settled once more. Ikora could just barely see the gleam from beneath her eyelids in the dim shadows.

Quietly, Ikora made minute adjustments for a more comfortable sleeping position without dislodging Eris. Her legs she tucked closer along Eris' to keep either of them from falling off the sofa. A small, satisfied sound burred in Eris' throat. How long had it been since she had felt safe enough at rest to break the instinctive silence of a sleeping Hunter?

Ikora pillowed her head on her arm and breathed her own existence as she waited to fall asleep.

For once, she allowed herself to consider the possibility that the world—and she—might someday be all right.

___

I actually referenced a lot of specific lore in this fic, so here's a lore linkdump: the seminal sapphic Eris/Ikora library lore from Forsaken and Shadowkeep, which Eris actually quoted in the penultimate Season of the Witch radio message (the timing of the music in the background of this vid make me want to cry every time) the ever-relevant Shadowkeep Narrative Preview weblore Eris being a Bladedancer Hunter when she was a Lightbearer and using Blink Eris' letter to Ikora in Beyond Light entreating her to support the use of Darkness in the Regarding Stasis lorebook Chalco Yong discussing Ikora's predictive abilities in The Witch Queen Collector's Edition lorebook (original scans and transcript) and also the ARG that follows off of it, the Hidden Dossier, both of which detail Ikora's new perspectives on Light and Darkness and her theory of memory and grace which I think about every day Seriously, the TWQ CE and ARG are long but an absolute treasure, they are the most important pieces of lore for understanding Ikora as a character in my less than humble onion, in addition to being possibly my favorite Destiny lorebook overall also? if you got this far, thank you!! it's a tough gig being a writer fixated on a femslash ship in a larger fandom with a huge cast, but the few of you who keep on tuning in to appreciate my takes on these ladies really make it worthwhile. so you have my endless thanks and gratitude. i hope you enjoyed this one, it's one of my favorites yet.

[azvolrien]

jazzhandsmcleg replied to your post:

surely ONE bull is a lifetime supply for most people?? XD

Depends how long it lives for!

[azvolrien]

jazzhandsmcleg replied to your post:

what is your prize as the winner of Burghead Bull Bingo? (also sorry about all the notifs)

a lifetime supply of bulls (I’m not XD)