#looking for the right planet or the right ship or the right whatever is vexing me
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rustyanchor36 · 10 months ago
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I have no idea how SW fic writers (particularly @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning and their encyclopedic knowledge of the EU) manage to find the best thing for each moment.
Is there some massive resource archive I'm missing or is it really just playing the Wikipedia game in wookiepedia and just jumping from article to article trying to get to something useful?
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nahoney22 · 1 year ago
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Hi! Congrats on your follower celebration! And thanks for writing requests.
Could I request Wrecker x female with fluff/romance for the prompt “you know, you’re really hot when you’re angry.”?
Thanks for being awesome!
3000 Follower Prompt List Celebration
Wrecker X F!Reader
word count: 600 words
SFW
prompt:
“You know you’re really hot when you’re angry.”
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warnings: annoyed reader, mainly fluff, non established relationship, idiots in love, mutual pining. Female reader.
authors note: thank you for the support @merkitty49 and very sorry for the wait 🩵
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The boys observed you pacing aboard the Marauder, your frustration evident as you vented about the day's mishaps, which seemed to be pretty valid.
Not only had the meticulously planned mission gone awry from the very start, but returning to the Marauder revealed that it had been… infiltrated.
Evidently and most unfortunately, someone had left the gangplank down, allowing either the planet's inhabitants or its creatures to wreak literal havoc on board.
Echo murmured to Wrecker as they watched you kick at the debris from broken crates, followed by a drawn-out sigh of annoyance, "When do you think she'll calm down?"
Wrecker, watching you with a mix of fascination and concern, replied, "I ain't sure."
Typically, you were the epitome of calm and collected, but today, there was an unfamiliar side to you, one that had Wrecker oddly intrigued. He couldn't help but feel sympathetic about your frustration, but he also found your slightly vexed demeanor rather attractive.
So taking matters into his own hands, he approached you and gently rested his large hand on your shoulder, trying to halt your pacing. "Wanna sit down for a bit?"
"No, Wrecker," you sighed, "I want to clean it all up. I want this place to look spotless, just like I left it. In fact, I want all of you to clean up after yourselves, stick to the plan, and not go rogue! I want a hot shower! I want Mantell mix!" Your list of desires seemed to go on endlessly, reaching a point where it became almost comical. The more you listed, the more absurd your requests became, until you found yourself laughing at the chaos.
With your hands linked behind your neck, you took a deep breath and turned back to Wrecker with a sheepish expression. "Am I being overdramatic?"
A warm smile graced Wrecker's face as he gazed down at you, your outburst none short of endearing. His heart races in the intensity of the moment as your eyes locked onto each other. "You know, you're really hot when you're angry," he admitted, surprising both of you and causing a flutter in your stomach.
The unexpected compliment left you momentarily speechless, but it quickly chased away the frustration and distress of the day's events. You couldn't help but break into a grin, realising that Wrecker, the person you had secretly harbored feelings for a long time, had just called you hot.
"Really?" you replied, your eyes brightening with delight at his words.
Wrecker coughed awkwardly, his cheeks flushing with a mixture of fluster and embarrassment. However, your positive reaction put him at ease, and he let out a chuckle, folding his arms across his broad chest. He was relieved that his brothers hadn't overheard his admission to you. "Sure," he continued, "but no, I don't think you're being dramatic."
"That's good to know," you replied with a sense of relief, letting your arms relax by your sides as you surveyed the mess once more. "I'll clean this up tomorrow. I can't be bothered right now."
Wrecker stepped forward, his willingness to help clear on his face. "We will help ya. We shouldn’t shy away from our cleaning duties." He was eager to do whatever it took to make you happy. But then again, he couldn't help the thoughts of making a mess to see you riled up again.
Grateful for his offer, the two of you decided to take a small walk together, and as the evening unfolded, perhaps, just maybe, a gentle kiss was shared. Maybe having the ship infiltrated wasn't such a bad thing after all sometimes.
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Masterlist
Prompt Requests List
Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone e @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @imalovernotahater @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur r @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @fantasyproductions @by-the-primes @the-bad-batch-baroness
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crescentblossom66 · 7 months ago
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Mafia Party!
The second of the two fics that I submitted to @anachronism-ahitzine Check out the other artists and their amazing pieces.
The gentle noise of waves drifting to shore and the squawking of seagulls that were normally so prevalent among the hardly busy port of Mafia Town, were now being drowned out by the loud honking of three incoming cargo ships, a rarity, as the small port usually only await one ship per day. The Mafia aboard all looked merry, as they slowly docked the ships and unloaded their cargo, working a lot harder than they normally would. The burly men were even humming a song, which would have been ear grating to others due to them being notoriously off-key, but none of them seemed to be bothered by that as they lifted the heavy crates and brought them over to the marketplace. One Mafia Goon seemed to be confused by the word “Kidney” being on the crate that he was carrying and started to make his way toward the black market with it, only to be stopped by his fellow Mafia. “Fellow Mafia is going the wrong way, we bring crates to marketplace.”
“Label says 'Kidney', we don't need kidney at festival.” Another of the men pointed at the other side of the crate.
“Label reads 'Beans', beans need to be brought to kitchen.” With confusion, the Mafia Goon that carried the rather vexing crate turned the wooden box and held the crate with one hand, scratching his bald head with the other.
“Mafia confused. What is crate containing, bean or kidney?” A more active and impatient goon decided to enforce a simple rule that their boss made up 'When in doubt or confused, simply punch the problem', so he did just that and punched a hole into the top of the crate revealing kidney beans, which resulted in a collective “Oh!” from the confused men.
When the group reached the marketplace, the preparations were well on their way. A few Mafia were standing on very puny-looking stools to hang up garlands, others were preparing a pyramid of wooden barrels for one of the main attractions of the festival, which was adequately yet plainly named 'Mafia Arrival Day', which was held every year in commemoration of the day they overtook what was formerly known as the City of Calcite and Adventure, or simply Calcite City for short. A group of them were straining to put up the golden statue of their leader, they had tied ropes to it, and were trying to make it stand upright. Due to their high strength it was fairly easy for them...but what they had in brawn they certainly lacked in brain, as the statue was now upside down, it's feet in the air.
“What is this?! Can't you do anything right?!” The boss of the Mafia arrived to inspect the preparations and was furious to see that they had somehow flipped his statue-self. “Put it upright, now!” He stomped his foot in anger at the incompetence that he had to deal with every single day, not even the jolly atmosphere or the beautiful, sunny day, brought him into a better mood. The Mafia men hurried to fix their error, when the statue landed on its side with a loud clang, he grit his teeth and let out a screech that made the blood in the bald men's veins run cold.
“Sorry boss, Mafia couldn't read instructions because of other Mafia dropped it in water. Ink got very messy, make everything look like chicken-scratches.” One of them explained, but their boss had none of it. Even if their boss was a lot smaller than the other Mafia, he had glare that was piercing their souls. “Don't glare at Mafia, please, Mafia want to keep soul. Mafia not want to end up like victims of eerie ghost in Subcon.”
The boss of the Mafia raised an eye brow in confusion, not really sure what his subordinate was talking about, but whatever it was seemed to have greatly disturbed not only him, as he could see some of the other Mafia Goons shaking. “Pull yourselves together, men! We won't be afraid of some apparition! I- I mean, we, will soon rule the whole planet!” The smaller man flashed a smile and stood rather proudly, his cockiness almost became his downfall as he barely dodged a huge meat one a bone that came barreling down the road and nearly flattened him on its way. “Concentrate, you morons! You'll ruin the whole festival!”
As the sun started to slowly set in the horizon, the marketplace of Mafia Town was finally ready, the garlands were all in place...albeit a little crooked, the barrels were organized, more or less, some somehow ended up on the floating platforms that none of them had access to, and the statue was placed the right way up this time. The majority of the Goons had decided to relax at the beach, one of them even brought a grill to serve grilled fish and hamburgers, he even managed to only burn himself twice this time! Other Mafia have turned in for the night while others were watching their favorite shows on TV. Everyone was relaxing after the hard day of work, but their leader was still out and about, making sure that faucets were all tightly closed, preventing the lava from flowing. It was the one job that he really didn't trust anyone with but himself, given the track record of his rather intellectually challenged men, it was likely a very smart move on his part.
As soon as the sun started to rise the next day, the normally rather relaxed and more or less easy going Mafia Goons rushed to the marketplace to light the torch on the hand of the statue of the Mafia Boss, which signaled the start of the holiday. The festivities were started off with the first of the three activities, the race! The starting point and end were different each year, but this year, the race would start in the back alleys and go all the way to the beach. The Mafia that were not participating watched their boss make his way to the white line to start off the race. If asked why he never participated, it was due to the fact that he would easily win, no question, so he deemed it unfair to his fellow Mafia. (The slightly smarter members of the Mafia knew however, that it was simply because he hated losing) As there wasn't really a requirement to how the participants needed to get from point A to point B, some found rather unconventional means of transportation. One stuck to the original way, opting to simply run to the goal, while the second was using a meat on the bone that he was balancing on top of, while the finally Mafia Goon was using...a rocket.
The Mafia Boss was nearly flattened once again, when he gave the signal to start, and the meat on the bone nearly crushed him. A 'Sorry, boss!' was heard when the Mafia realized his mistake and heard the growls of frustration that came from the short, red-clothed man. The Rocket Goon apparently had trouble starting his risky vehicle and jumped off of it kicking it once and recoiling as he came to realize that kicking solid steel was quite painful. “Stupid rocket, start!” He yelled at it, to no avail. The burly man scratched his scalp, contemplating what to do, meanwhile, the running Mafia and the balancing Mafia were a quarter and half way to the finish line respectively. “Wait Mafia forgot important item Mafia need fire to start rocket.” He checked all the pockets on his person, even his breast pocket which had a pink handkerchief in it, thankfully for the Rocket Mafia, none of onlookers seemed to have noticed this rather unmanly item. In a moment of brilliance, very uncharacteristic of the bald men, the Rocket Mafia realized that he could get a fire easily from the statue! The way to and from the marketplace took the risk-taker so long, that his competitors were already close to the finish line...one at least. Despite going at a moderate 3km/h (1.86 mph), the exhausted Mafia, that was using his own two legs, was still far ahead of the other that had an issue with getting his unconventional means of transportation past a bridge, as the huge piece of meat was way too big to fit on it.
With a loud bang and a cloud of black smoke that left the audience covered in soot and ashes, the man on the rocket indeed became the fastest man alive, gaining more and more speed as he made his way to the beach. 'Mafia fastest man alive, Mafia easily win race!' were the men's thoughts as he tried to smile while trying not to fall off what was clearly the most Mafia of all vehicles! His smile, however, quickly faded when he dashed way past his goal and out to sea. It was at that moment that he realized that his plan was very flawed.
Some of the Mafia at the beach were in awe, watching the Rocket Mafia get smaller and smaller on the horizon, while some of their fellow Goons were congratulating the Walking Mafia on his victory.
Between the first and second major activity was a time to just relax and enjoy the day, enjoying the island that they had forcefully taken away from the previous inhabitants. Some Goons were relaxing by the fountain in the marketplace, chatting while looking at the sloppily placed decorations. Others took the chance to enjoy some food in form of grilled fish, hotdogs, and steaks that had the face of their beloved leader carved into it. Miraculously, not a single man died of food poisoning that day.
The second contest of the day was the barrel throw. It was held on the marketplace and used the barrels from the pyramid they had prepared the day prior. The Goons from the casino had opened a stall, where the Mafia in the audience could place bets on their favored contestant. When the first contestant grabbed a barrel and barely managed to lift it, the audience erupted in laughter. “Come on, son, make Mafia proud!” One of the men shouted from the sidelines, trying to cheer the young Mafia on, before turning his head to the person next to him. “Mafia know son is too weak to win, never strong enough to punch even old lady, but Mafia is trying to be good father. Mafia told son that he has chance to succeed, but Mafia know son never succeeds, son must learn lesson, builds character.”
The young Mafia threw the barrel as far as he could...but only managed to toss the heavy wooden object a meter. (3.3 feet) far. He sighed and hung his head as he walked off, feeling like he had failed his father. Nobody doubted for a second that the second contestant, an average looking Mafia Goon, would easily throw the barrel further. He likely would have done so...if the general clumsiness, inherent to most Mafia, hadn't caused him to trip and drop the barrel right on his foot, which resulted in everyone breaking out into hysterical laughter yet again. A very muscular Mafia Goon, with a comically large torso and in comparison very stubby legs, had easily garnered the favor of everyone present, even the Mafia Boss had placed his bet on the man. He lifted the barrel as easily as one would pick up a small pebble, and readied himself to throw it way out of bounds of the contest. Victory was far from his grasp, however, when a flock of seagulls decided that it was payback time for one of their brethren, that the muscular Mafia had punched for trying to get a fish for their kid. He flailed around as the vindictive birds swarmed him and bit him, causing him to drop the barrel behind him, netting him negative points.
Everyone was quiet for a moment, in utter disbelief of what had just happened, until one burst out in laughter and the others joined...aside from their boss, who was raging and stomped on his hat repeatedly, because he had lost the bet. To his surprise, and even more so to the surprise of his father, the young Mafia was deemed the winner.
As the sun was starting to set, the arm wrestling contest started and Mafia Boss was once again the referee, which caused a lot of nervousness for the participants who were more afraid of his sharp gaze, rather than the brute strength of their opposition. In the end, nobody won as the Mafia started to flee after seeing a slimy space alien that crashed the party.
The alien repeated “Leave the island, or I'll curse you all!” multiple times as it attacked the Mafia, jumping on their heads while snickering. The only one who seemed mostly unfazed was their leader, who chased the alien away with his daggers after scolding his goons for running away in fear from a small and wimpy-looking mud monster. After that small foe was vanquished, the festivities resumed with just a little unease still present, it was visible the most in the Mafia that were lighting the rockets for the fireworks, who burned themselves on the fuse of the rockets each time they were lighting it.
“Alright, men, listen up!” The boss of the Mafia climbed onto a crate to give a speech like every year, his voice reaching even the Goofy Mafia that had been thinking about alien conspiracies up until that point and had been stuck in his thoughts. “It marks three years now since we made this island our new home. Thanks to the continues efforts of ME...and you, we're close to finishing up the improvements necessary to bring our families over here!” The goons cheered after that message.
“Mafia finally be able to see wife again, Mafia missed being nagged at for forgetting to take out trash.” One Mafia wiped away a tear and was consoled by the one next to him, who put a hand on his shoulder.
The boss rose his fist to the air. “Let's work hard on reaching that goal, no slacking this year!” Most Mafia cheered aside from one in the back.
“Mafia wasn't slacking, Mafia was working hard on repairing building while Boss was sleeping on throne.” Thankfully for that Mafia Goon, his boss didn't hear him.
All in all the festival was a big success and once again served it's purpose, bringing the Mafia together, even if it usually resulted in monumental chaos.
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mantleoflight · 10 months ago
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Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Everything || Pt 2
The Vex tunnel shone like a distorted Warp space, neon latices forming and shattering, pieces of half-manifest Vex debris appearing and vanishing in an instant. Echo gripped the dual helm sticks she used to steer for all they were worth, desperately trying to keep on course while praying she wouldn’t burst into splinters.
“Echo! I see an end!” Whisper shouted, her guardian barely hearing her over the turbulence. “Keep holding on, we’re almost out!!!”
The cockpit shook violently as turbulence intensified, and for a moment, Echo thought she was going to be crushed by the sheer g forces pushing on her. Then, like the snap of a rubber band, they were out, the light of the Vex net vanishing as they escaped into real space.
The Velocimancer wobbled its wings, it's nose dipping as Echo throttled back and tried to regain her bearings. “We’re not dead?” She asked, blinking stars from her dazzled optics.
“Not yet,” Whisper answered quickly, “but we’ve got hostiles! Dog fighters ahead!”
The shapes of round, black ships with wings like twisted candy wrappers roared and twisted as long, more conventional shaped ships chased and were chased by the black candy fighters.
"What in the absolute-" Echo began when Whisper cut her off. "FIGHTERS UP TOP, DIVE 90-0-23!"
Echo pushed her flight sticks forward and down, sending her ship into a sharp nose dive as two fighters roared passed, swerving to avoid hitting her. Blue light trailed in the wake behind her as she went, but as she looked up from the front, she saw her position had revealed a whole space battle happening above her.
Two huge ships glided through space, trading canon fire like ketches of the Old Crews but bigger. Part of her thought of the large war freighters the Cabal had stationed protectively over the Last City, Psion star fighters ready to launch in their hanger bays, or that the Shadow Legion had stationed on Neomuna with their destructive Nighthawks and tanks.
Around one flew the black, candy-shaped ships, their engines roaring like angry ascendant hive knights. Meanwhile around another flew the white, needle-nosed ships trading red laser fire for green with the black ones. But with them were also odd ships that looked something like an Arcadian jump ship but with no wings and only its engines secured to the main body. What kind of ship was that?
Echo shook her head and glanced at her ghost. "Oh boy, Whisper triangulate our current position and get us the heck away from these guys. I don't want to be part of whatever party these guys are having."
Whisper chirped and extended her scanning reach. "Got it - ECHO!"
"HOLY--" Echo hauled on her helm sticks, maneuvering her ship as she threaded through a knot of fighting forces. In the moments the hunter had looked at the battle and glanced at her ghost, her ship had soared down and around the main part of the conflict only to find herself in the other half of it! Unbeknownst to her, she had come in at a split vector, right through the middle of the main forces of fighting and unfortunately like all dog fights, forces move.
"Hang on!" she shouted and shifted in her seat, weaving and juking as she tried to thread her way out of the battle. Finally, she saw an opening and took it and a whole planet opened up to her.
A planet! Her ship was made for interplanetary travel! If she could get down there, she could do a warp snap perpendicular to it, allowing her to get past the atmosphere and get to cover before she ended up mince meat for these dog fighters.
With that in mind, the long nosed jumpship wove its way through the fray, dodging red and green laser blasts as Echo tried to escape from the battle. With any luck, the other fighters would be too busy to worry about a blueberry like her. After all, from the looks of the war carriers, they had much bigger problems to deal with.
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thefirstknife · 2 years ago
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It's a really cool little frame, definitely something super important. My thought is that it might be the Veil. There was another frame in another trailer from a different angle:
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It's deliberately zoomed in and cropped weirdly to tease us, but in this specific image, I felt like it looks like a heart. Like, anatomical heart. With veins and all. It's somewhat different now in the new image though, and doesn't look like a heart anymore. Unless there's multiple pieces and we're not looking at the same part of the object.
Important to note is the way everything is framed to show us this object. In the original trailer, what precedes this image is the Witness having a vision (? presumably) of our planets that leads to Neptune, implying that this mysterious object is what the Witness is looking for. Sequence of events in the launch trailer (under cut for length):
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The Witness gets zoomed into some sort of light and then:
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The planets are in a line and then they part. After this, we get the flash of the veiny object. Then the vision continues:
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The planets keep parting aside until this shot which shows Neptune in the center and zooms in towards it.
This new trailed has a nearly identical setup, showing us planets, zooming in between them until reaching Neptune. When it settles on Neptune, it shows footage similar to the above + the new angle on the veiny object:
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Whatever this is, it seems to be tied to this vision-like projection of the planets of the solar system which has a focus on Neptune. So my guess is that this is what the Witness is after. The Veil? The Pale Heart? Something entirely different? We'll find out tomorrow!
Since I'm already here, the new trailer's first part is interesting to me because:
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This sequence very clearly zips from one planet to another. The problem is, the first planet closest to the camera seems to be Europa, given the Europan-unique red lines in the surface. But it seems somewhat out of place, because the rest of the planets are entirely in order of their proximity to the sun. Yellow planet on the right is Venus, then they show Earth and the Moon, then Mars, then Nessus and then Neptune. Why is Europa here? It should be after Mars.
I also though this might just be showing planets that we have in the directory, but then Venus makes no sense. Maybe I'm overthinking it too much and it's just supposed to look pretty, but nevertheless! It's an interesting setup for this specific part of the trailer. Also interesting that as the sequence starts and first starts displaying the planets, they get a simulation-like effect sweep over them:
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This effect also sweeps over the Pyramid ships:
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Interesting. If this isn't purely aesthetic, then it might be relevant somehow. Something to do with the Vex? Or the Witness' power to move worlds? Or it's just there to be pretty? Well, we have 24 hours without the game so we have to occupy our time somehow and I do it by overanalysing every frame of the trailer ahskjahskajhd
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THATS A FUCKING BODY
like that has to be what that is right?? theres all those veins and stuff that lead to what looks to be the neck and the start of a head at the top. is there maybe an entity or something inside the traveler and thats what the witness sees?
or maybe thats what "the veil" is that that they mentioned in the vidoc!
from this trailer
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aura-bird · 4 years ago
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Escape
Hi! So this is like, the first time I’m actually using Tumblr for anything so I’m hoping that I do this right. I have fallen in love with @martuzzio‘s Space Outlaws Hermitcraft AU so I wrote a thing based on this ask. This is my envisioning of that scenario (Note: I’m leaving it ambiguous as to who or what exactly is attacking).
This is my first time writing something but I figured it’d be fun practice. I hope I didn’t cross into undesired territory here Martuzzio; if so, I am very sorry.
Warnings: Mentions of injury, implied torture (done by the bad guys), and explosions but none of it is described in detail.
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Two men sat in the room overlooking hand-drawn floor plans of their current location. This particular Convex base was well guarded, yet still not as well as several others they’d been at.
In all honesty, the duo was only supposed to have been cooped up here for a few days, but recent events had led them to remain here longer. To the rest of the Convex, it was an annoyance; but to Cub and Scar, it was their first chance to actually escape.
Of course, it would not be easy, the duo knew quite well what happened to those that tried to escape and failed; they’d seen it countless times and it was imperative more than ever for them to get this right on the first try.
“We already know that the goal is to reach the docking bay and steal a ship; the hard part will be getting the path there unguarded enough to slip in undetected.” Scar said as his fingers mindlessly traced the drawn hallways in question.
“Mass sabotage won’t be enough, not after the stunt that one guy tried last week.” Cub mused, tapping the pencil in his hand against the desk, “And, from what I’ve been hearing they plan to move us out of here in two days, that doesn’t give us much time…”
“What about outside help? We know there’s prisoners here, if we can get to them perhaps they could help us in some way?”
Cub shook his head, “Won’t work, odds are the Vex have broken them by now; we’re on our own here.”
The following silence was only broken by explosions and the base alarm going off, snapping them out of their thoughts.
The door to the room opened, their attention being drawn to the two Convex guards that entered, “What’s happening?” Scar asked in confusion and panic.
“The base is under attack by a yet-to-be-identified group; we’re moving you early.”
Cub and Scar quickly grabbed the bags they’d originally packed for their escape and followed the order given to them, falling into place between both guards. They knew there was no chance of escaping now, they’d have to wait until another time and place.
Every hallway looked exactly the same as they were rushed through them, the alarm and distant sounds of combat not helping their nerves any.
An explosion on the floor above sent chunks of concrete and metal falling, blocking the path they were taking. Several more followed shortly afterwards, shaking the entire base around them.
“What in blazes is going on up there?!” One of their escorts snapped into his communicator in frustration.
There was no response to his question, only static.
“Damn it!” came a curse. “Change of plans, we’re going the long way around.”
A shove from behind got Cub and Scar moving, this time even faster as chaos reigned above.
It wasn’t long before they were all sent flying.
Briefly dazed from the impact with the wall opposite of the one that had exploded almost in their faces Cub was able to recover enough to realize that he and Scar were separated from their escorts; this was their chance.
He grimaced at the sharp pain on the side of his head but shook it off as he caught sight of Scar, the man struggling to stand.
“Scar, c’mon, we need to go!” he said as he hastily helped his friend get to his feet, “Cub? What just…?”
“Not now, this is our chance to get out of here. The chaos will keep enough of the Vex busy.”
Realization at Cub’s words filled Scar with enough adrenaline to move, holding on to the man’s hand as they ran down memorized halls.
Of course, things were never that easy; in their dash to escape they were assaulted by other Vex that had figured out exactly what they were up to when it was realized that they were not being escorted.
Several times, even the attacking forces had taken notice of them; Cub just barely avoiding a shot from one of their weapons when he pulled Scar around a corner.
Still,despite the chaos and destruction they continued to run, their desire for freedom fueling them despite their bodies crying for rest.
Familiar doors loomed before them, blown open like most of the base itself.
Yet, despite the fact the base was under siege, the docking bay was relatively quiet. Not surprising, given cowardice was not tolerated within the Convex; in scenarios such as this, you either fight, or you die.
Scar and Cub desired neither.
A small cargo ship caught their eyes, inconspicuous in deep space and plain enough to easily slip away undetected, it was perfect.
----
Aside from the humming of the engines, the air around them was silent as they traveled through the black expanse of space.
The duo were worse for wear at this point but they didn’t care, they were safe…they were free…
“Well, we did it…what now?” Scar asked in exhaustion as Cub patched their wounds as best he could.
“Find some distant planet and drop off the grid. With any luck, the Convex will just think we’re dead.”
“Or captured, in which case they will no doubt look for us, we know too much for their liking.”
Before Cub could reply a desperate sound came from the cargo hold, followed by the sound of scratching and clawing.
The duo of now-ex-Convex looked to the door and then at each other, “We have to take a look at what we escaped with eventually, may as well start now.” Scar shrugged.
Upon entering the hold the duo was able to take inventory at their unintended haul. They had enough food to last them until the next planet or station, and a few weapons as well.
The sounds they heard, however, came from a crate, the label on it reading ‘DANGEROUS’ in big red letters.
Normally, they would not even think about opening something of the sort, but the sounds from within were growing ever more desperate. Against their better judgement Cub carefully opened the crate, readying one of the guns they had found among the rest of the cargo in case whatever was inside wasn’t friendly.
Out of the crate came a creature that neither of them expected. Its fur was white and grey and from behind the barred muzzle over its maw they could see gentle, green eyes.
“A cat?” Cub questioned, “What is a cat doing here?”
Scar, on the other hand, extended out a hand, coaxing the feline towards him, “Come here, let’s get that thing off of your face.”
Muzzle removed the cat let out a grateful meow and nuzzled into Scar’s lap.
“Can we keep her, Cub?” he asked with a smile, now stroking the cat’s fur, “Please?”
Cub sighed, “Alright, we can keep her.”
Scar’s eyes looked back at the now-purring ball of fluff in question and, with a smile, spoke. “I think I’m going to name you Jellie.”
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khaosgaming22 · 4 years ago
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Expunged Part II
Drifter hefted his coat up over his shoulders as he fired up his ship from The Derelict where he transmatted Guardians in for his Gambit. It was tattered and scratched from the last time he wore it. On that cold, desolate hellhole planet with the shadows that snuffed out his crew's light. As for the rest of them well... only one came back to tell the tale. He activated the communications. "How you doin down there Moondust?"
"I've told you numerous times to refrain from using that nickname of yours Germaine." She said back through the crackled radio. The icy moon had a blisteringly cold atmosphere and an almost perpetual cycle of snowstorms.
"Any idea where this friend of ours might be hidin?" He asked and the ship jettisoned from its hangar toward Europa.
"We don't even know who sent the signal let alone what it is. They simply said that they mean to show us something." Eris says stumbling over a pile of snow laden with orange streaks encased in the ice.
"Okay well meet me in this clearing. Storm's too heavy where you are for me to land." He clicked on autopilot and sat back in his chair maneuvering his jade coin around in his hand then setting it ablaze. The ship sat down eventually and Eris walked up to it having crossed the field of ice and snow. She removed her shawl from around her mouth and watched as Drifter got out and stepped onto the moon. He was not two steps on that they heard a low hum coming from the north. They looked and saw a sparrow rounding a glaicer in the distance and speeding towards them. The sparrow disintegrated and the stranger jumped off. Drifter put a hand on his revolver. He turned to her.
"So. You must be this stranger we've been hearin about, the one who sent that signal." The stranger nodded and they saw what she was. Metallic.
"You're an Exo." Eris notes out loud. The stranger nods but does not speak. She walks past them and looks off at the distance.
"Good spot to land." Her voice sounds English with the reverb that always comes with Exos. Drifter and Eris look out at the horizon. A pyramid ship wedged into the surface like a chisel. This is what I brought you here to see."
~
Kenneth and Drake flew to Europa immediately after hearing of what they found. Ken got the signal from the Drifter and Drake from Eris, they knew full well the danger of the situation, Europa was not Vanguard approved, still they piled into Ken's ship
"This ship is a dump. What happened to your old one?" Drake asked looking around at the interior. It wasn't as cozy as Ken's usual one. No Golden Age relics.
"You think I'm gonna fly my good one in this far out? And risk never getting it back? Hell no I took the junker." Drake sighed and sat down in the cockpit next to him after swiping off the dust.
"Are you certain that this flying scrap is going to survive Europa?" He asked and looked out the window as they ascended off Earth and jolted into lightspeed. Ken was hesitant.
"Do you want the nice lie or the cold hard truth that you probably shouldn't even pick it's really not worth-"
"Kenneth."
"....maybe." Drake got up from the chair and grumbled to himself.
"I'm going to walk around." He said halfheartedly and exited the cockpit to find another hopefully not-too-disgusting place to sit and think. He found a broom and began to brush off a place for himself to sit and meditate on the last time he had gone out this far. Eve buzzed around him, she could tell something was troubling her Guardian but ever since his encounter with his father she had been quiet. He thought about calling Torra but he didn't want her to worry anymore.
Drake still felt ashamed for the events of that day. It was idiotic to think he could take on his father alone. He didn't want to involve anyone else because he didn't want anyone else to fix what he thought was his mess. It wasn't his mess. It was his father's, but none of that mattered now and not just others, but his own lover got hurt. When he woke up he saw Torra over him, he remembered the tears down her face. She had taken her hood off to try to get through to him, a fruitless attempt. As he contemplated what had happened he heard the door open and Eve quickly returned to her bag.
"We're here." Ken announced. His gear had changed drastically from his Last City garb. His hood was white as snow with a glow from his Solar Light running through it, he had a thermal mask over his face along with a wolf insignia on his chest piece. His arms had armoring around them and his boots were gray with pipes running through them. Probably some sort of heating system, it looked appropriate for the surroundings but jerry rigged together in classic Ken fashion.
"I was wondering when you would change." Drake said standing up from his spot on the floor. "You were gonna freeze to death in...whatever you had on before."
"For your information I got that from The Nine. But yeah no that ain't gonna stand up to the temperature of this place." He said fiddling with his Hunter knife.
"Right. Well then we should get going now." Drake looked around the ship then turned to Ken. "Where exactly is the exit?"
"Right there." Ken pointed with his knife to a small round hatch that looked about the size of a trash can.
"...on second thought, transmat me out Eve."
Eve did so and Drake was dropped into the white powder below as the ship flew off to find a suitable landing zone. He looked around through his hood and got hir bearings before summoning his sparrow and sidearm. The wind howled around him and he had to use thermals and the location point to guide him through the terrain, but eventually he came to where an glaicer collided with another creating a flat field of ice where he saw both the ship and where the signal came from.
Drake took his sparrow up over the cliff and onto the ice meeting up with Ken and speeding off toward the camp that was set up against the glaicer. The storm was not as bad here as the cliff blocked the bad weather so he could make out three figures. Eris was sitting by the fire, Drifter was standing and fiddling with a radio and another hooded Exo that Drake had never seen before was leaned up against the tent. She had a pulse rifle slung across her back.
"'Sup Drift? How's it goin." Ken asked and got off his sparrow. Drifter waved to him not moving from his place by the fire. Drake understood why, whoever this hooded stranger was was an Exo, with no feeling for the blistering cold, Eris was Awoken and Drifter was human.
"Aside from the storms that come up over the ridge every now and then, not too bad." Drifter answered and took a swig of something in his canteen, Eris said otherwise.
"We have much to talk about." She said gravely and the stranger walked forward to greet the Hunter and Warlock.
"Greetings." She said in a metallic voice. Ken recognized it was modeled after a posh British accent and along with her frame she would be eye candy for any interested Guardian. "My name is Elsie Bray and like Eris said, we have a lot to explain."
~
The pyramid ship, Elsie's origin and why they were here already were heavy subjects, but then she told them why they needed them here so urgently. Drake was astonished at all of it. He had studied the records left on Mars' Braytech facility before The Eclipse, Elsie was Ana's sister but not from their timeline. Instead she somehow was able to move through the Vex Network using her weapon as an anchor point. Fascinating. He would have numerous questions for Elsie, but those would have to wait.
"You have an Exo friend yes? He's a Titan." The two thirds of a strike team nodded. "He is here. But... he is lost to something. He's gone on a rampage destroying everything in his path in blind rage." This concerned Ken greatly. Drake couldn't believe it.
"No. No those days are over, Chao reset himself he is a different person now there's no way-" Ken put his hand on his shoulder and pointed to the ebony pyramid looming behind them. Drake lowered his head and stood up. "Where is he now?"
"He is almost here, but I know how we can help him. He's an Exo, we can use my bastard father's laboratory to reset him again and hopefully that will calm him down. Ken shook his head.
"No. Nu uh no way absolutely not, we are not resetting our friend he will lose everything he knows about us. We'll break his corruption just like we did Drake." Elsie nodded but did not look as sure of herself.
"Come with me, he's just up the glaicer. The storm will have moved on by now."
~
The three of them took their sparrows up to where an old communications satellite dish laid in ruin from both the weather and their corrupt Titan friend. Ken pulled up his hood that had blown off from the ride up and took out his handcannon from its holster. Drake readied his sidearm and Elsie followed suit with her weapon while they braced themselves. They could hear the crushing of metal coming from the radio tower and soon it would no longer hold, fallong over onto the outpost with a crash. On top of the building was a Titan in armor that was black as soot and looked like a knight. His armor had changed. He was breathing heavily.
The Titan turned his head and saw the three of them, then he did something that Drake nor Ken had ever seen. His chest exploded and his fist became encased in ice, he ran off the building jumping up and slamming it into the ground. Drake was so baffled at this that he had to be woken up by a shout from Ken.
"Drake get your head in the game man! We gotta take him down!" Ken shot rounds of his Sacramento at Chao but he slammed the ground and more ice shot up and the shots hit it instead. Then the Titan slid into them and they shattered into shards that exploded out and at Ken and Drake. This was not normal ice, it was sharp and tough as a rock crystal and it embedded itself into Ken's leg. He yelped out in pain.
"Agh- Son of a bitch that hurt! Drake! Don't let them hit you!" Drake ran over to Ken and put his healing rift down but it would only do so much and the Titan was not stopping to let the Hunter go through rehab. Chao slid into Drake and landed a punch knocking him off his feet and over Ken as he clutched his chest in pain. Elsie helps Drake up.
"I've called for Drifter and Eris, they'll be here shortly. Kenneth! Can you keep him busy?" Ken dodged out of the way of one of Chao's attacks and pulled out the shard with another scream.
"Yeah I can keep him busy but where the hell are you going?!" Elsie summoned her sparrow once she heard Drifter and Eris coming up the ridge.
"The Drifter and Eris are coming to help! I'm taking Drake somewhere where we can even the odds! We'll be back soon!" With that she and Drake sped off.
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And here it is everyone! Part 2 of Chao's story here on Europa. I know this is like 2 seasons late and we're almost to Splicers (which looks really cool btw definitely look out for stuff around this new season) Hunt was the worst season for me and the burnout hit quick, I played enough of Chosen to hear all the voice lines of my favorite blonde mechanic during Battlegrounds and took down Caital's champ in the tank. Long rambling short: It's almost summer and I'm ready to write more stuff as the longest and hardest school year finally starts to wind on down. And as always I hope you enjoy! (Art was done by the Magnificent @scout-fang check out her stuff if you haven't but you probably have already lol)
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angelbain · 4 years ago
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The Picnic
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(aka a little fluff / crack before I dodge on angst again)
The “extra episode of where are they now” as I picture it. 
Oneshot. Small reference to my fic “O Brave New World” chapter 3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/24252301/chapters/58501732#workskin  in which Catra and Adora visit Entrapta who feeds them experimental cookies. 
A Picnic at the end of the universe
Perfuma’s kingdom, a clear patch in the forest. PERFUMA and a few Plumerians helps stretch a big table cloth over the grass. SCORPIA is standing by her, holding huge baskets full of fruits and vegetables.
PERFUMA: Look, Scorpia, some people are coming! Oooh, I am so happy we are all seeing each other today!
She jumps and bats hands with joy. Scorpia looks at her with a loving eye. SPINERELLA and NETOSSA arrive from the air thanks to the former being able to cast winds.
PERFUMA waves at them with a smile: Here! Here! Come around!
SPINERELLA: Hello!
NETOSSA: We brought some drinks! Is that okay?
PERFUMA: Great! Amazing! Put them here!
She shows a small table. The four of them chat joyfully until a sound of magic glitter interrupts them. Appears GLIMMER and BOW who carries a cake bigger than himself, covered with icing and decorations, multiple-stairs type.
GLIMMER (raising her arms in the sky) Ta-daaa! We’re here!
BOW moans, and almost let the cake fall. It is caught on time by all the characters present, and slowly put in the middle of the tablecloth.
PERFUMA (with an inquisitive tone): Glimmer, what’s this?
GLIMMER: It’s a cake! Bright Moon’s cooks spend the whole morning preparing it! The icing has three different flavours, and the decorative pearls are coated with real gold!
As she talks, the cake seems to shine behind her. PERFUMA gives a concerned look at SCORPIA, who answers with an awkward smile.
PERFUMA: Well, err, thank you Glimmer! I’m sure it will be perfect for a light pic-nic in the middle of nature… But where are Adora and Catra? Weren’t they supposed to come with you?
GLIMMER: Oh, they said they would come by their own means… They should be there soo…
She is interrupted by the loud noise of an engine roaring closer. To all the characters’ horrified sight, a huge motorbike comes at them at full speed. Both riders wear a helmet that makes them unrecognised. They brake at last minute in a loud hiss, and do a spin that throws earth at the face of the protagonists. The back rider get their helmet off: it is ADORA, with a brand-fresh undercut and the biggest beam.
ADORA: GUYS! You will never figure out what I gave Catra for her birthday!
GLIMMER: Let me guess, this motorbike?
ADORA;: Yeah! It is a-ma-zing, right? 
There is no answer. CATRA appears by her side, looking embarrassed, with a box that looks like it has been stepped on multiple times.
CATRA: So err Adora… About the pizza…
ADORA: What’s with the pizza?
CATRA: It has… err… suffered a little in the journey… It should taste fine but…
She opens the box to the saddest pizza ever seen.
GLIMMER: Wait! You disappeared all this morning to do ONE PIZZA? Arrrr!(She holds her head in her hands)
CATRA: No! I made cookies as well! Look!
She opens a box, and get a cookie out that has very vaguely the shape of a cat, that she holds proudly in front of an unconvinced GLIMMER.
PERFUMA (trying to stay calm and speaking as if to a very small child): That’s cool! Put it next to Glimmer’s cake and join us!
CATRA (asides, with her hand at the side of her mouth, pointing at the cake): Wait, did Sparkles do that?
ADORA: Apparently.
CATRA (same attitude): And we’re standing here with our stupid pizza…
ADORA (dry voice): It’s a great pizza. Now stop being competitive and enjoy the party.
They are interrupted (again) by the rush of the river close by which becomes a sudden torrent, to let stage for a wonderful boat… on fire. MERMISTA jumps from it and waves her arms to throw water at the arson, and floods PERFUMA who came closer to say hello.
MERMISTA: Sea-Hawk? SEA-HAWK? Come out now, and don’t forget the food!
SEA-HAWK (from inside the ship): I’m co-o-o-oming darling!
MERMISTA (with a bored voice): Oh, hi guys. Sorry for the inconvenience. He insisted for the fire.
PERFUMA (drying herself with a towel handed by SCORPIA, fake-smiling): It’s no worries! What did you bring?
MERMISTA (proud): We got the best fish and sea-food you guys have ever tried! Bring it on, Sea-Hawk!
SEA-HAWK gets out with a pile of wooden boxes. He opens one to shiny lines of fish. In the background, we have a quick glimpse at CATRA’s face, licking her lips with eager eyes. PERFUMA winces.
PERFUMA: Well… err… that’s great?
SCORPIA: Wait, what do you mean that’s great? Didn’t you say you were vegetarian? Do vegetarians eat fi…
As she speaks, SEA-HAWK and MERMISTA’s faces drops. PERFUMA puts a hand on SCORPIA’s mouth.
PERFUMA: No, no, it’s great! Put these around… (she hesitates and points at a random direction) around here! Great! Now who’s missing?
ADORA: Well, Frosta, and Entrapta, and I think that’s all…
CATRA: About Entrapta, do you guys think she will bring Hord…
She is interrupted by FROSTA, who just jumps from nowhere in her ice armor and punches her. After the first surprise, CATRA gets up, smiles competitively, and punches her back. They start a playful fight that pauses quickly. FROSTA salutes the others.
FROSTA (with her warrior voice): Hello, guys! I hope you waited for me to begin the party! Yea-hay!
PERFUMA: Well, we were just greeting everyone and…
FROSTA: Amazing! I brought ice-cream! Yay!
She draws a whole bunch of ice-cream flavours. GLIMMER yaps in the background and Bow’s eyes are huge from excitement.
GLIMMER: Frosta, you’re just the best! Now everyone’s here we’ll be able to start…
She tends to the buffet but is quickly caught back by BOW. Vexed, she pouts and sulks when the calm hum of an engine disturbs them. A sort of spaceship arrives from the sky, and parks between the boat and the motorbike, dumping the later down to the horrified sight of ADORA and CATRA who puts their hands on their mouth. Without a clue, a giddy ENTRAPTA comes out of the ship, followed by candid WRONG HORDAK.
ENTRAPTA: (talking to her log) Social experiment number #132, I am about to share a pic-nic with my friends. (to everyone) Now hi, everyone! I am very happy to see you all!
PERFUMA: We are happy to see you too, Entrapta, and whoever, I really say whoever you brought with you will be as welcomed as…
CATRA (with a concerned voice): Did you bring Hordak?
At this very moment, HORDAK gets out of the vehicule. He looks around. There is a collective moment of awkwardness where everybody looks around to avoid anyone’s gaze, to the exception of CATRA who jumps on their feet and points angrily at him.
CATRA: WHAT? YOU BROUGHT THIS…
ADORA (hands on CATRA’s shoulders): Calm down please…
GLIMMER (pushing them aside): HEY! What is he doing here?
MERMISTA: Yeah, like didn’t he try to destroy the planet or something? Just sayin’…
FROSTA: YEAH! BAD HORDAK!
HORDAK: I can see that I am not welcome here. (He looks at ENTRAPTA who is puzzled). Let’s leave.
Before they do, PERFUMA steps out and catch them by the arm.
PERFUMA (pulling her best smile and stepping before the others who still look pissed): Please, don’t leave! You are most welcome here, and surely the other guests will be able to (she looks at the pissed group with a side angry eye and especially at CATRA for she holds them responsible for the start of the mess) put aside your differences. So, err, did you bring anything?
ENTRAPTA (joyful): Yes, as it is a custom to bring food to a party like this, I tried to find the perfect flavour! I experimented lots of them – Catra and Adora even tried one – but I need more subjects to try it so I brought you a sample! Here it is!
WRONGIE opens a metallic box. It is full of small grey cubes.
CATRA (aside): My, not again…
ENTRAPTA ignores the remark and piles up the box over all the stuff that is already there: the sea food, the fruit baskets, the cake, the pizza, the drinks, the cookies, the ice cream totter dangerously and start to fall down. Every member of the group jumps to retrieve something, but it is not enough, and eventually the cake ends up falling over PERFUMA who jumped to catch it.
There is a small instant of silence, followed by a cry of rage from PERFUMA, who drops her arms on the floor and yells.
PERFUMA: Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh!
SCORPIA puts down whatever she caught and approaches carefully.
SCORPIA: Hey… erm… are you all right?
PERFUMA: No! My party is ruined! People are fighting, and Glimmer’s cake is wrecked! I’m such a bad host!
PERFUMA begins to cry. SCORPIA holds PERFUMA in her arms and glance at the rest of the group, clueless, when ADORA steps forward.
ADORA: We are sorry, Perfuma. It took you time and energy to prepare this, and we are ruining it by being bitter.
NETOSSA: Yeah, and it’s not like it took us a long time to bring the drinks.
MERMISTA: Nor the sea-food. FROSTA: The ice-cream took me one minute…
CATRA: The pizza took us much longer but I’m sure it’s no great loss. And… I’m sorry I started this.
There is another silence. CATRA nudges HORDAK, who looks terribly ill-at-ease.
HORDAK (after a terrible effort): I’ll do my best to prove the princesses I’m an honourable guest.
CATRA: Hmm, good enough.
PERFUMA looks up, eyes still tearful.
PERFUMA: So you still enjoy the party?
ADORA: What? Of course we do! (looks at GLIMMER)
GLIMMER: And I’m just we can still save pieces of the cake!
SEA-HAWK: And the sea-food! (looks at MERMISTA)
SPINERELLA: And I love mashed fruit! (looks at NETOSSA)
FROSTA: We can mix it with the ice cream!
MERMISTA: Add the cake in it, it would be so cool!
ENTRAPTA: What if we make it in tiny scoops? (looks at HORDAK)
SCORPIA: And a little cookie at the top of it? (looks at CATRA)
BOW: Yay, cookies!
He jumps and high-fives SCORPIA. Perfuma cracks a smile, and they all laugh.
Ellipse to the end of lunch. GLIMMER is asleep on Bow’s knees, a small chunk of cake still at the corner of her lips. Meanwhile, BOW is showing WRONGIE how to use a bow. PERFUMA is chatting happily with NETOSSA and SPINERELLA.
PERFUMA: … So I sent an invite to this Double Trouble person, they seem to be so interesting, but sadly they declined. They said they got a key role in a play and don’t want to drop that out… I wonder what that is. Something about crime and investigation… I think Mermista would know more about this sort of thing…  
Her words are lost in the general conversation. In another corner, CATRA is leaning on ADORA’s knees. The others are in the background. ADORA is handing one of ENTRAPTA’s cubes to CATRA.
ADORA: You should definitely try this.
CATRA: I’m not sure about it…
ADORA: Come on! It’s completely different than last time!
Switch for a second on Sea-Hawk, who tries to sing a shanty but is interrupted by a flow of water, a pile of flowers and some snow.
CATRA: All right, if it pleases our majesty…
CATRA eats the cube, chokes from it and reach for the closest drink.
CATRA (after drinking a whole bottle of fizz) You idiot! It’s even worse than last time!
ADORA laughs heartily when CATRA jumps on her. They fight like two kittens.
Zoom on the rest of the groom.
They are gathered at a board game that is probably of BOW’s design, because it featues small figurines. ENTRAPTA is examining them all at once, one in each lock of her hair. SCORPIA is trying to read the manual and scratches her head, but tries to explain the rules. FROSTA is sleeping on her shoulder. MERMISTA just looks bored. HORDAK looks miserable.
ENTRAPTA: Bow, did you made these? They’re amaziiiiinnng…
HORDAK: I must admit it is quite a good craft.
BOW blushes. An arrow brushes by his nose.
WRONGIE: Oops! BOW: Wow!
The arrow ends up in a tree very close to PERFUMA, who is pouring warm water in a tea-pot. She jumps, but the pot is caught by a net that allows it to land peacefully in her arms.
PERFUMA (smiles): thank you, Netossa. (turns to ADORA, who raises her head from the cuddle fight that led her and CATRA to be covered with grass). Adora, I wanted to ask, do you have any news from Swift Wind?
ADORA: Oh, haha, hem… He is on a quest to find other talking animals like him. He said he feels a little lonely in his… hem… condition.
CATRA: Yay, and so far he found a frog and they are the greatest complainer in history.
PERFUMA smiles. ADORA looks away, a little guilty. CATRA uses the moment to grasp a chunk of grass and punch it at her face. They resume the fighting. Zoom on BOW, who stands up, with at his feet a yawning GLIMMER.
BOW: Guys, please, can I have your attention for a minute!
MERMISTA: Eeeeerr, seriously, you’re going to make a speech? This is sooooo cheesy!
SCORPIA: Shhhh, he is going to make an announcement. We are all ears, Bow, go on…
FROSTA (who woke up): Are you and Glimmer getting married? (Glimmer blushes)
CATRA (with a smirk): You’ve got to get a proper shirt for that though.
BOW: Wait, we’re not…
SEA-HAWK: I could do the singing!
SCORPIA: Can I be your best man? Please! I’m never been anyone’s best man!
BOW: We’re not…
ADORA: Wait, who’s getting married?
ENTRAPTA: Bow and Glimmer, apparently. It will be a great social experiment, I’m waiting for it. By the way, aren’t you and Catra going to do it with them? (ADORA blushes violently.)
BOW: WE’RE NOT GETTING MARRIED!
A big silence follows. Everyone looks shocked, Scorpia is even almost tear-eyed.
SCORPIA: You’re breaking up? But you’re such a good couple! Please don’t break up! (She kneels down, grabs Bow’s trouser’s leg and begs) Please-please-please…
BOW (sighs): We’re not breaking up, we’re not getting married, and I just wanted to tell you guys that tea is ready and that I made each of you a personal cup to bring back home!
SCORPIA stops crying, and PERFUMA just laughs from the whole situation. SCORPIA looks at her and smiles from seeing her lover be happy. On the back, ENTRAPTA strokes HORDAK’s cheek with her hair, and he lifts his head to look at her. Behind them, WRONGIE looks at the scene with loving eyes.
BOW: So, here is yours, Adora – He gives her a cup full of tea. It is white, with a sword drawn on it.
ADORA: Nice!
BOW (continues the distribution of tea): Catra’s… - A red cup, with cat ears that poke at the edge, and a >.< cat face.
CATRA (doing exacly the same face): Why is mine making a face?
BOW: Glimmer’s… - A pink cup, with a complicated shape and small pearls that decorate it. She just smiles and grabs it – Perfuma’s… A round cup made of natural wood, with a small twig twisted around it.
PERFUMA: Thank you. (She closes her eyes and smells the tea with pleasure).
BOW: Scorpia’s…- It’s a deep red cup, huge, and with a special shape for her to hold: it is thinner in the middle and larger at the top and bottom, and without a handle.
SCORPIA (still tear-eyed): This is so nice from you Bow!
BOW: Frosta’s… - A light-blue cup, all transparent and with angular shape, like a diamond. It has a top cover to prevent spilling because she is impulsive.
FROSTA: Yay! (She jumps with the cup, but it just shakes the content and only spills a little bit out).
BOW: Mermista’s… - A blue-green cup with the handle in the shape of a fish, and a unicorn whale painted on it.
MERMISTA: Ok, it’s a little bit cool, I admit.
BOW: Sea-Hawk’s… - A dark-blue cup with a boat drawn on it – At least you won’t set this boat on fire!
SEA-HAWK: Oh, thank you!
BOW: Entrapta’s… - It’s a set of three black small cups. On each of them are stylised purple faces with hands: one with the hands on the ears, one on the eyes, and one on the mouth.
ENTRAPTA: Oh, it’s tiny! Amazing! (She gives mouth to WRONGIE, ears to HORDAK, and keep the eyes one. WRONGIE looks happy, but HORDAK looks puzzled). Thank you!
WRONGIE: Thank you! HORDAK: Yeah, hem… thank you. (He looks away)
BOW: and finally, Netossa’s and Spinerella! - He gives NETOSSA a cup all squared in black and white, and SPINERELLA a light purple cup with the handle in the shape of a wind spiral. They smile and cheer with the cups. - So, would you join me for a toast?
ADORA: Sure.
BOW (a little more solemn): So… To Etheria (he looks at ADORA and CATRA, who both blushes). To victory (he looks at SCORPIA, PERFUMA and FROSTA who all cheer). To love (he looks at NETOSSA and SPINERELLA who kisses, and then at GLIMMER who just smiles). To adventure (he looks at MERMISTA and SEA-HAWK who look fiercely ready for another). To forgiveness (he looks at ENTRAPTA, who smiles, WRONGIE, who blinks, and HORDAK, who simply nods.). But mostly to say: It’s the best thing so far to be friends with friends.
They all cheer and yay, and the last image is of a collection of cups all clasped together.
THE END.
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spectraspecs-writes · 5 years ago
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Kashyyyk - Chapter 72 (Jolee)
Link to the masterpost. Chapter 71. Chapter 73
@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.
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Oh my god, I’m in love with Carth.
But that’s okay, I can deal with it. We have an important job to do and we can’t afford to waste any time. Any second of wasted time is a second that Malak gets closer to wiping out the Republic. Maybe when we’re in a more secure place I can mention it to him, then…
Yeah, like that conversation will work out. “Hi Carth, I know you’re still mourning your dead wife, I just thought you should know I’m in love with you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. Also you’re sexy as hell and I’ve kind of wanted to do you since Taris. Okay, have a nice day.” Spectacular, Rena. Because that’s going to work out.
And that’s even assuming that he feels anywhere close to the same way. If he does, we can salvage a friendship at the very least. If he doesn’t, then that’s it. End of the road. We’d be too embarrassed to spend any time with each other in any context. And frankly the notion that he might feel exactly the same way is even more terrifying. Because it’s not like I’ve never dated team partners before. I’ve had relationships, with and without sex, with members of my scouting teams before. But those relationships rarely went beyond that particular mission, and when they did we ended up getting sick of each other really quickly. But this feels different than those feelings, those relationships. The Twi’leks, the dewback herder - with them and the rest, I guess it was situational. We were put into a situation and clung to each other. Maybe it’s different here? I mean, on Taris we were kind of forced together into a situation. He helped me get off the Endar Spire, we got stuck looking for Bastila. But we easily could have parted ways on Dantooine. And we aren’t sick of each other yet. It just feels completely different and I don’t know what to do about it.
I certainly can’t sleep anymore. But Bastila and Canderous are still asleep, the sun isn’t anywhere close to up yet. So there’s not really anything I can do right now except meditate, which is boring as hell. But, better than just sitting here in the dark doing nothing at all while my brain obsesses over Carth, right? So I give it a shot.
“My, my,” I hear Jolee say softly, “you really are impatient. Can’t even sleep straight through the night, hmm?”
“I don’t sleep well,” I say simply, reflexively. He hums curiously. “What happened to your beauty sleep?”
“Don’t make fun of your elders,” he says, teasing me. He pauses, looking at me. “Got something on your mind?”
“Dude, I’ve already got Bastila in my head, I don’t need another Jedi in there.”
“Who said anything about being in your head?” he says, “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn to recognize a look of frustration on a woman’s face.”
“Frustrated a lot of women, have you?”
“What a sharp wit!” he says, then he looks at Bastila and Canderous (who have unconsciously turned to each other in their sleep.) “Why don’t we talk outside?” he says, “Let them sleep.” So I get up and follow him out.
It’s stopped raining, but a few drops of water still fall from the trees. I inject another of Canderous’s allergy stims before my head gets too fuzzy. Jolee looks at it curiously. “Turns out I’m allergic to the wroshyr trees,” I explain, “Weird, huh?”
“Ah, so that’s why you want to get off this planet so badly,” he says, “Can’t say I blame you.” We stand in silence for a bit. “So, what’s on your mind?”
“It’s honestly not that big a deal.”
“Big enough for you to sit up and try to meditate.”
“I’m a Jedi! Jedi meditate!”
He scoffs in laughter. “I’m not so easily fooled by your half-assed excuses,” he says, “I’m old and I’ve seen too much of the galaxy to fall for the lies of a kid like you.”
I mean, he’s right. “Yeah,” I say under my breath, “Carth said I’m a lousy liar.”
“He’s right.”
I sigh. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell Bastila,” I say, “She’d be furious and self-righteous about it.”
“You have my word,” he says. And it feels earnest.
I don’t know, though, I still feel really nervous about it. And I feel like saying it out loud will make it too real and I’ll have to confront it a lot sooner than I want to. Right now it is perfectly safe in my head, existing only as an idea. “Okay, so there’s this… friend of mine,” I say. I can already tell Jolee knows I’m stretching the truth again, but he lets it go. “And my friend was telling me about this dream she had, where she was with this guy on a planet…”
“What planet?”
What? “I don’t know, what difference does it make?”
Jolee shrugs. “I don’t know, you tell me! A planet like Mustafar would be different from a planet like Naboo.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I say, “but it was a nice planet, I guess, plains ecosystem from what I could tell.”
He sort of nods. “And just what were you doing on this planet?”
“My friend,” I emphasize, “and the guy were just… hanging out, having… fun. The kind of fun I… she hasn’t had in a long time.” Jolee sort of smiles softly. “But then there was an accident, she was hurt. In the dream, I mean. Legs busted up, big cut on her head, and she told him to go, come back for her, but… he stayed. And it was perfect.”
“Mm-hmm,” he says neutrally, “And you’re curious what it means, hmm?”
“Oh, I know what it means, it’s just… saying it out loud makes it… too real.”
“For your friend.”
“For my friend.” He gives a little nod. “I mean, this really isn’t the time for things like that, is it? I mean, whole galaxy is in danger, an entire way of life under threat, and in the middle of all that - it’s ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous, perhaps,” he says, “The wrong time? Never.”
“I suppose you��ve got an opinion on the subject.”
“I’m old, I’m entitled to a few opinions,” he grumbles, “If it makes you - and your friend - feel better, I’ve been in the same situation. And come out the other side. Far better to have it, in my experience.”
I shake my head a little. “Is that why you’ve decided to tag along, then?” I ask, “To give relationship advice to Padawans?”
“It could be for the free food,” he suggests, “Or the riveting late-night conversation.”
I snicker. “You’re my kind of guy,” I say. I love the way he plays and teases. Keeping up with me quip for quip. “Seriously, though,” I say. 
“I’m old, dammit!” he says, “I'm allowed to be enigmatic when I want to be, and don't go telling me otherwise.” Wouldn’t dream of it. “You know, you remind me of someone else I knew ages ago. Pleasant enough fellow, great destiny, all of that. Breath like a bantha.”
“Yeah, you don’t smell so great, yourself.”
“Bah!” He whacks me lightly. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. Andor Vex, was his name. The Force swirled around him like a hurricane, that's how great his destiny was.”
“It’s not a name I’m familiar with.”
“No, you wouldn't be,” he says, “Sometimes swirling Force is just swirling Force. It gets us old Jedis excited at our age so we go ‘ooo, destiny!’” I snicker again. “Well, it turned out that poor Andor believed a wee bit too much in the infallibility of that destiny. That overconfidence turned out to be his downfall.”
“It usually is,” I say, “Is there a point to this story, here?”
“Does it have to have a point?” he asks rhetorically, “I thought we were just talking about Andor. Is something wrong with your attention span?”
“So they tell me.”
“Let's see… oh, yes. Andor's downfall. I was pretty young, myself, when it happened. At the time, I thought that Andor's destiny couldn't be more boring,” he says, “I was just about to abandon Andor to whatever the Force intended for him when his ship was overtaken by a Dimean warship. Now, you've probably never heard of the Dimeans, but at the time they were a nasty lot led by a nastier overlord named Kraat. Tall fellow. Big teeth. Kraat has us hauled onto the bridge of his ship for questioning, and that's when I knew that Andor's destiny was at hand.”
“Got a sense for that, do you?”
“Swirling Force, remember? Jedi here? Granted, I was just interpreting the signs, but we get trained in that sort of thing. More or less.” He gives a little shrug. “Well, Andor decides that his destiny makes him invulnerable and starts making all sorts of demands. Free me now, I'm not answering questions, blah blah blah.” I do enjoy how he tells stories. “Don't you know who I am? Kraat decides he's had enough and begins crushing Andor's neck. I told the boy he should have kept his mouth shut. I think he agreed, too… or those could have just been gurgling noises. Well… well, anyway. Finally, Kraat has enough of Andor and tosses him aside into this giant energy intake shaft. Andor gets sucked in and starts bouncing around, screaming.” Hell of a thing to laugh about, Jolee. But I have to admit, the image is funny. “Maybe Andor hit something sensitive on the way down or just didn't agree with the reactor core, next thing I know all the ship's alarms are ringing.”
“No. Way.”
“Everyone panics and I run, barely making it to the ship in time before the explosion. Kraat dies horribly, and the Dimeans never quite recovered. Changed the political course of the entire sector for centuries to come. I'd call that quite a destiny, wouldn't you?”
I laugh a little and shake my head. “So what, exactly, does that have to do with you coming with me?”
“Well, hey, the chances may not be great, but when one has the opportunity to see something like that twice in a lifetime…”
I laugh again. “Well, tell you what,” I say, “When I fight Malak, I’ll be sure to bring you with me, so you get that chance, how does that sound?”
“Bah!” he exclaims, “Don’t do me any favors.”
We both sit and sigh. I rub my nose a bit. “How long until sunrise, anyway?”
“Do I look like a clock to you?” he objects teasingly, and he scoffs. 
“Well, you know, don’t you?”
He sighs. “One or two hours,” he says.
“Thank you.” I thought it was later than that. Or earlier. I don’t know, which word fits better? Guess Bastila and Canderous will be awake before too long. I wonder how they’ll react when they find out they’ve turned to each other in their sleep…
I head back inside. Dammit, Bastila rolled over.
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peanutsoulofavengers-blog · 6 years ago
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Worries. (Peter Quill x Reader)
Warning: Rocket and his vulgarity, pregnancy stuff. Fluff. You are human – in my head – and have been kidnapped on (whatever planet you want) as a trophy. Based on Heart song “All I ever wanted to do is make love to you”
Summary: You are pregnant with Peter’s child and you don’t know what to do.
Ship: Peter Quill x Reader
Characters: Peter Quill, Drax, Gamora, Mantis, Rocket, Groot (child)
 Request / Ask Something | Masterlist
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                                                               ...
He accepted with a smile, so we drove for a while
I didn't ask him his name, this lonely boy in the rain
Fate tell me it's right, is this love at first sight
Please don't make it wrong, just stay for the night
 You were freaked out. Your footsteps were repetitive as your breath was heavy. You were destroyed, overenjoyed, overanxious, overstressed. It has been few weeks since you started having nausea, being sick, having mood swings, back, breast and headache which made your friends on the edge and yourself too. Your periods weren’t present since now two whole months and you were just frightened by the fact that something could be wrong with your body and your health. Peter started to feel worried once he understood that it was above your ways and that you couldn’t help. You were mostly down and asleep as much as possible. You were eating more than the others (which made Rocket even more shitty). With Rocket judgement, you were almost always feeling offended and obviously: easily angry and sobbing just after, angry against anything and nothing at the same time.
 And Drax joined you, he wanted to talk to you. You and only. Honestly, you were overwhelmed by fear. But surprisingly he was gentle, kind and caring after you. Like he knew what was currently happening. But nothing that you could ever thought about. He asked that you explain everything that you were currently feeling. He told you that his wife was exactly feeling the same when she was pregnant of their daughter.
 You.
Pregnant?
 Pregnant in space? Pregnant in a place where no human medicine was reachable excepting of the little mount of acknowledgement that you and Peter knew? No. It wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t happen. It was the worst thing which could happen for you and the Guardians of the Galaxy. You were going to be a burden for everything, including… The father. Oh, and you were doubting that Peter could be a good father, considering that his education was everything but not human. This child wasn’t destined to have any future. Any good destiny at least. You threw yourself in Drax arms, claiming that there was no way to be pregnant here. But you wanted it, you wanted this baby so much and at the same time: not at all. Not at all because you were having doubts about you and Peter’s capacities to taking care of someone, even more a child. You weren’t even able to take care of yourself…
 Drax told you to talk to Peter about the foetus in your womb and that there was nothing more beautiful than having a child. He even swore that he could protect the child if there was any danger around. You were calmer than before.
 Then you started to think more about talking to Peter. Anyway, your bump was still coverable by large shirts which were belonging to your boyfriend. You saw him driving the Milano, concentrated on the road. Rocket swearing just after him and Groot was looking at you, like he was sure that something was wrong.
 - My name’s Groot.
- I took weight…?
- My name’s Groot.
 It vexed you more than you wanted it too. Usually you wouldn’t mind but this time, it was different. You felt the tears coming and you were trying to hold them back, but you failed. You began to cry out loud, falling on the ground and burring your face into your hands. Peter looked at you, wondering to himself why you were crying.
 - Peter, take care of your fucking overweighed girlfriend.
- Fuck you Rocket. You were angry. Oh yes.
- Oh well, it’s not me who get fucked recently. He said.
 Peter hugged you, trying to make you feel better but all you felt was only the heat from his body and yours which was even higher considering your state. But you didn’t mind, you were too tired for arguing about what the Guardians were thinking about you. Well actually, it wasn’t your fault. But more the one the… Foetus. Your body wasn’t yours anymore.
 All I want to do is make love to you
One night of love was all we knew
All want to do is make love to you
I've got lovin' arms to hold on to
 Peter transported you until your berth where he laid you on, taking care of not harming you or whatever could make you feel worse than now. He was so caring but at the same time, so shitty sometimes because it took care only on things which are important after something happened. But you knew that if the topic was you, then there’s was no need to worry. He covered you with the blanket, placing your head above the pillow correctly for making sure that you were comfortable as much as possible.
 - You’re not overweighed…
- I am. you sniffed.
- Then it’s doesn’t matter… I don’t care about what this fucking raccoon is saying.
 You were smiling, tears and sadness has leaved you. Peter took your hot hand in his. She was hotter than his, which worried him even more. He placed his free another hand on your forehead and gave up yours for placing the left one on his forehead, considering your temperature.
 - Oh god… You’re surely sick. But how you could be sick in space…
 Your breath was heavy once more.
 - Quill… We have to talk.
- When I heard that sentence, it was in a teen movie of the eighty’s… On Earth.
- No no… I’m not gonna break with you.
 He let his mouth dropping a loud sigh of relief.
 - What’s going on?
- I’m not sick Peter… Not at all…
- You sure?
- Yes.
 You held his hands in yours, they were so small compared to his. He smiled and laid his eyes on you, once more. You were paler than before. Your hairs were all around you, the shirt was large and let an opened view on your cleaving which grew up a little bit since the beginning of your pregnancy. You placed his both hands on your belly, under the shirt. Letting him feel the little to tiny bump.
 - Yes, you took weight but it’s not the problem, right?
- I’m bearing your child since… One month now. But I’m scared Quill, I’m scared because we’re not on our planet, we are on a fucking ship in space, no medicine, no doctor, nothing. We don’t even know if this baby is gonna be born in a good health or even alive! We don’t know Quill! You and me… We’re fighting against the monsters of so many planets, having problems in almost the totality of the galaxy, Rocket is acting shit, Groot is a child, Drax is still unstable, Gamora might be kind yes but what if she’s not able to take also care of this child? Mantis is so innocent, and she’ll never know about what she could do! We’re fucked up Quill, we’re fucked up!
 Let’s be realistic: You were telling the truth and you knew it. Peter knew it too, that’s why you made him be silent for long minutes where you were sobbing once more, your hormones loved being like rollercoasters fuck. But you couldn’t help anyway. It was true: it’s was going to be difficult for not saying impossible. But Peter Quill was a man who loved being against the impossible for making it possible. Even if he was obligated to move every stars of the planet. It was also true that after his birth, this baby was in obligation to be protected. That you both were obligated to take care of you for not letting the other getting any danger. Or even being killed.
 I told him I am the flower you are the seed
We walked in the garden we planted a tree
Don't try to find me, please don't you dare
Just live in my memory, you'll always be there
 But it was so hard, you never thought about raising a kid. And what the fuck… Peter? Even less. Not minding that he was Star Lord, but because of the danger of the galaxy. But Peter loved you, and he started to love these two little parts of you both the moment when you announced it. You were unconfident, you were overwhelmed by fear, you were all these things and he understood. You never been prepared, you both haven’t even spoke about having kids because you never considered it seriously. And the only times Groot said that he wanted a little adoptive sister or brother, you guys took his words as jokes. Well, he won.
 - Look. Peter whispered. There’re billions or trillions of planets in the galaxy… I’m sure that it could be okay. We can beat this. If my mom gave me birth, I’m certain that you can give to our child too. There’s no way that you’re not strong enough for this. No. No. No. We’ll modify the Milano a little bit just suiting the new member on the ship, we’ll get through Rocket’s shit, Drax’s violence problems, Mantis’s innocence, Gamora… Well no, I don’t think that there’s a specific problem with Gamora. We’re gonna protect this kid until we die because we’re too old for that shit.
 Oh, oooh, we made love
Love like strangers
All night long
We made love
 Call him romantic, but you knew that it wasn’t. It was only what he thought. You smiled, you were still scared, but you were both scared and obviously that it wasn’t going to be easy as he explained himself and the plan. He gently rubs your belly once more, lifted the shirt up and left a sweet wet kiss on it, making your shoulders quivering because of the sweetness of his move. His lips moved to yours, sweet, without any sexual desire for once. Just made of love. Just after you fell asleep without a warning, exhausted by all these emotions. You just heard Peter running like a kid and saying out loud.
 - I’m gonna be a fucking dad, guys!
- Oh shit…! You heard from Rocket.
Then it happened one day, we came ‘round the same way
You can imagine his surprise when he saw his own eyes…
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The Raven and the Hawk, Part 7
Osiris x female Guardian | RavenHawk | with a side of RaspberryBitchface | drama & angst | adventure | SFW | a whole chapter without smut what even | the smut will return | but for now have some feels
Cresora’s new Fireteam board the Dreadnaught to look for the Queen of the Reef, but find much more than they were expecting
Author’s note: This chapter brings together all four of my OCs: Cresora, Piax, Mercy and Andara because Cresora needs the backup! As Andara’s origin story intersects with Osiris’s past we’re gonna deal with the fallout from THAT mess here, too. It’s not going to be long-winded or boring and you don’t need to have read Andara’s (unfinished) origin story, Before the Fall before you read this. Everything will be clear as you read along and the focus is still on RavenHawk.
RaspberryBitchface is the ship name for Andara x Shiro-4. 
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six
“Ah, home sweet home,” Mercy said, looking appreciatively around at the inside of the Dreadnaught. “I spent weeks disrupting Hive rituals here during the Taken War. Such a blast.”
Andara, bundled up in thick Vanguard robes shaded vivid purple, hefted a pulse rifle in her grip. “Ugh. Cold. I hate the Dreadnaught.”
It was cold, but that wasn’t what was making Cresora shiver. It had only been a matter of days since she’d nearly died here. After she threw Osiris out of Piax’s flat he left the City and she hadn’t heard from him since. It hurt, thinking about him. She tried not to.
Piax, Fireteam leader, turned to Cresora. “So. Where do we start?”
Cresora looked around the vast chasm of black and green Hive structures. From far off came the screaming of a Wizard and the lumbering thump-thump of an ogre. The Dreadnaught was the size of a planet. Where were they even going to begin? In her weakened state the Arc trace that she’d laid down to guide her to the Queen had vanished and she wasn’t game to try any more Thanatonautics by herself.
She pulled out the maps that Osiris had given her. “Before I got separated from my Ghost I was marking off sectors as I searched them. Here’s how far I got.”
The other women gathered around her.
“All right,” said Piax, pointing at a place on map. “We’ll start here and work in a clockwise direction, moving outwards. Happy to navigate?” she asked Cresora, who nodded.
They set off, and Cresora found herself walking alongside Andara, with Piax in front and Mercy bringing up the rear. The only sound was the occasional report of Mercy’s scout rifle as she took pot shots at wriggling Hive worms.
Mercy was the first one to get bored and strike up a conversation. “Hey, so our dear queenie. How do you know she’s on the Dreadnaught?”
Like Andara and Cresora, Mercy was Awoken. “I had a vision during the Red War that she was here. Osiris helped me uncover the rest of it.”
Behind her helm, Andara made an angry little sound. Cresora glanced at her. Curious.
The next seven hours was spent tramping from one room to the next through dark and dirty tunnels, clearing out Hive as they went. Mostly it was Thralls and Knights with the occasional Ogre and coven of Wizards to liven things up.
Late in the day they found themselves back in that vast cavern room, except this time it wasn’t empty. A Hunter was leaping from plinth to plinth, his cloak streaming out behind him and a conga line of screaming Thrall following his every move.
“Who is that?” Mercy said admiringly.
The Hunter suddenly turned, pulled a sniper from his back and aimed straight down the line of Thrall. There was a report like a lightning strike and they all disintegrated at once and fell into the abyss. The gunshot had briefly lit the Hunter, his cloak blazing yellow.
Andara cried out, “Shiro.”
The Hunter turned at the sound of his name, hailed the group, and then leapt lightly down to them. Andara ran and threw her arms around him and the Exo pressed his forehead against her helm. One of her hands traced his mouth plates, Void Light shimmering beneath her gloved fingers.
“What are they doing?” Cresora whispered to Piax. Whatever it was looked sweet and tender, and a pang of loss went through her, seeing Andara in the Hunter’s arms.
“Kissing,” the Titan murmured, and drew her away. “They haven’t seen each other in weeks.”
The pair exchanged quiet words together and then turned to the rest of them. Andara was practically bouncing on her toes, the happiest Cresora had ever seen her.
“Lady Guardians,” Shiro said, nodding to each of them in turn.
[Wow. He’s polite] Cresora’s Ghost said silently.
Isn’t he, she replied, liking him immediately. He wore brown leather gear over his lean Exo frame, and his cloak was a brilliant shade of canary yellow.
“Andara tells me you’re looking for the Queen of the Reef. I’ve been tasked with looking for something, too. Wanna team up?”
Piax laughed. “Are you kidding? Of course. But I guess you can’t tell us what you’re looking for?”
He hesitated, apologetic. “A set of runes, essentially. I wish I could tell you more. Orders from the Vanguard.”
They started walking and Mercy fell into step beside Shiro. “Thank the Traveler you’re here. This Fireteam was starting to get swamped with Warlocks.”
“Two. Two Warlocks, Mercy,” Andara said, holding up two fingers.
“Yeah, exactly. Swamped.”
When they stopped to make camp Cresora eyed Andara curiously, but waited for Shiro to peel himself away from her side. When he went with Mercy to do a quick patrol Cresora sat down next to her. “Do you know Osiris?”
Piax, who was flattening out her bedroll, started at the name and looked over at her friend. Andara seemed to choose her words carefully. “Not exactly. I had a run in with him a very long time ago.” She looked narrowly at Cresora. “You’re friendly with him, aren’t you?”
Friendly. Whatever they were to each other it wasn’t friendly right now. How happy she’d been when she’d woken up and found him sleeping by her bedside. He’d heard her, all the way in the Infinite Forest, and had found her. But to have seen what he saw and left the queen to her fate when he thought she was dead was too horrifying. “Not exactly. It’s complicated.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me.”
Cresora didn’t want to pry, but she knew so little about Osiris. “Can I ask what happened between the two of you?”
Andara grimaced, but started talking. “I was rezzed for the first time about a year ago, the same time as Piax, but unlike other Guardians I could remember my life before.”
“But that’s impossible.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m getting to that. I was a Dead Orbit scavenger back when the Walls were new and I died protecting Zavala’s then-girlfriend from a Concordat heavy with a shotgun. He was about to blast her Ghost to pieces during a riot and I stepped in front of the barrel. It was so fucking stupid. I don’t know what made me do it.”
Piax shook her head. “You were a Guardian then even if you didn’t know it. It’s what any of us would do.”
Cresora was confused by this, but waited for the Warlock to keep talking.
Andara looked angry and embarrassed. “Yeah. Maybe. But the point is that when that shotgun killed me I was actually a Ghostless Guardian but I didn’t know it. Hence why I could remember that death and my life as a scavenger when I was revived several hundred years later. Someone found my Ghost and woke her up.”
“How could you not know that you were a Guardian?”
“Osiris,” she muttered darkly. “It seems I really was a Dead Orbit scavenger in my first life and when I was rezzed on Mercury for the first time, really for the first time, me and my Ghost walked into one of his weird experiments while trying to find our way to the Last City.” She glanced at her Ghost which was hovering next to her. “It did something to her. She can’t speak, and I don’t even know her name.”
There was such a look of sadness on Andara’s face. Not being able to hear your Ghost? That was a terrible thing. Cresora’s Ghost had been her only true friend on many lonely missions.
Andara’s Ghost did a sad little swoop and booped her on the nose, making the purple-haired Warlock smile wanly. “My memories are very confused. I remember being in a jumpship with Osiris. Him asking my name and all these other questions and me being unable to answer. In the end he dropped me off at the Last City outside Dead Orbit headquarters. Because of my gear.”
“He just left you with Dead Orbit?”
The Warlock nodded. “Yeah. Real nice, huh? And then with what happened to poor Lyssa, I just, ugh. Osiris is like my least favourite person. Lyssa was Zavala’s girlfriend,” she added, seeing Cresora’s frown.
“What happened to her?” Cresora asked. Then she glanced at Piax, remembering that the Titan seemed to be involved with the commander now. “Oh—sorry. Rude question.”
Piax shook her head. “It’s all right. Osiris was her mentor. After she and Zavala broke up she died on Mercury looking for him, like Saint. No letters, though. Just gone.”
“She was really nice to me,” Andara said quietly. 
Shiro and Mercy had come back and had heard the last part of their conversation. Mercy whistled through her teeth, long and low. “That man sure leaves a lot of messes in his wake.”
Cresora lay down on her pallet, feeling worse for having heard all this. She remembered what he’d said to her when he was trying to convince her that she should let him help her.
I’ve made a lot of people angry with me over the cycles and I can honestly say not once has it bothered me.
[Maybe it should have] her Ghost said, hovering above her.
Yeah. No kidding.
They were walking through some dungeons the next day when a Vex portal opened in a blaze of silver light.
Shiro, the only one who hadn’t seen the Vex portal open in the Tower, was the most alarmed. “Vex! Vex on the Dreadnaught.”
Cresora sighed. “No. It’s Osiris.”
But it wasn’t just Osiris. As he stepped through the portal there was a large, struggling bundle heaved over one of his shoulders, and when saw Cresora he strode forward and threw it at her feet. The figure rolled in the dust and turned onto its back. It was Uldren Sov, Prince of the Reef Awoken, bound and gagged and wriggling like an angry worm.
Mercy snickered. “Aw. Osiris brought you a present.”
Cresora looked up into Osiris’s hawk-like eyes. “What’s this?”
The others, sensing that this was a good time to make themselves scarce, drew away. Piax grabbed a fistful of Uldren’s shirt and dragged him with her.
Osiris pulled his bandana down. “I’m helping you get what you need. You can tell the prince what you know.”
“It’s a little late for that. You should have gone to him when you thought I was dead.”
His eyes were hard and angry. “I thought she’d killed you, her and her brother. I never liked their sneering, their politics. What they did to you—”
She interrupted him. “What they did to me was perfectly understandable. I was a spy. Of course they hated me. If you want to help with this, fine, but why did you have to bring Uldren?”
“Because he’s enjoying himself being Kell of House of Kings and if anyone should be suffering over this is should be the Queen’s own brother.”
Cresora cast her eyes at the ceiling. He’d kidnapped a Fallen Kell and dumped him at her feet like a sack of potatoes. “Traveler’s Light, Osiris. Kings is going to be so mad at you.”
“They can get in line behind the Vex, the Vanguard and you. And I only care what you think, little bird.”
Her face hardened. “Don’t call me that. I’ve been finding out more about your mistakes these last few days. It seems you’ve been making them for some time.”
Before he could ask what she meant Uldren, who’d been untied, strode forward. “I’ll make you pay for this, old man,” he seethed.
Osiris threw him a gun, and the prince caught it. “So good to see you again, Sov. Try not to die.”
Piax looked at Cresora expectantly, glancing meaningfully at the newcomers. They had been four and now they were seven. Cresora blew out her cheeks. “I guess we keep looking? Osiris and the Prince can do what they like.”
The Titan nodded. “All right. We should split up into two groups and—”
“We should stay together,” Osiris interrupted. “A Fireteam of six is the best size when facing the Hive. He doesn’t count,” he added, glaring at the prince.
“Piax is Fireteam leader, Osiris. If you want to stay then follow her orders.”
Osiris seemed to grit his teeth, his eyes flashing. “Piax,” he said, making an effort to sound polite, “if you’re concerned about doing this in the fastest possible time may I suggest we use my reflections? They can search and report back much faster than we can.”
As he spoke half a dozen gleaming reflections split off from his body, all identical copies. Piax looked around at them, bewildered, and then nodded. “Yeah, okay. Use the reflections. Send them to the most inaccessible parts of the ship first. We’ll keep searching these middle sectors.”
Shiro cleared his throat. “Osiris. I’m looking for a certain set of Hive runes. Can your reflections do two things at once?”
The Warlock gave him a long, curious look. “Of course. What are they?”
The Exo Hunter hesitated, clearly wondering whether to trust an outsider with details about his mission. He dug out a datapad and passed it to Osiris, who studied the screen and gave it back.
“Yes. They’ll search for those runes at the same time.”
Cresora thought she saw a gleam of interest in Osiris’s eyes and wondered if the runes meant anything to him. As they began walking Osiris drew up beside her, but she walked faster until she caught up to Piax.
“How’s Eris Morn?” the Awoken Prince asked Osiris in a nasty tone of voice. “I hear she’s not herself these days.”
Mercy put a boot on his backside and shoved. “That way. Your Highness.”
“Hunter solidarity,” Shiro said as he walked beside her.
“Word,” she muttered, bumping the fist he offered. Then she glanced at Osiris and sighed. “Another Warlock. Outnumbered again.”
Uldren quickly became the most tedious part of the search. As they marched from room to room he complained about the pointlessness of what they were doing. “What are we even looking for?”
“A sarcophagus of some kind. She’s being kept in something ritualistic.”
“What utter rubbish.”
Cresora rounded on him. “Don’t you want to find your sister?”
“She’s dead. She died in battle. If there were visions to be had of her, I would have been the one to have them.” He looked at her with loathing. “Not someone like you.”
Osiris conspicuously reloaded his weapon. “Sov—”
“It’s fine, just ignore him, we need to keep moving.”
Mercy stepped forward. “If he’s not interested in helping we could always leave him here.”
The prince sneered at her. “Mind your own business, Fallen Fucker.”
Cresora eyed Mercy’s House of Dusk cloak. So that’s why she wore it. Mercy spat back something in Eliksni that the prince clearly understood as he aimed his weapon at her. Andara and Shiro both sprang to Mercy’s defence.
Meanwhile Piax was trying to be heard over all the yelling as an ominous hissing and scraping sound filled the air. Finally she shot a blast of her auto rifle into the air and shouted, “Hive.”
Thralls were flooding into the room, followed by Knights wielding wickedly serrated swords. Osiris launched himself into the air, fire blazing around a sword that he’d summoned.
On the ground, Mercy and Shiro got to work with their Arc staffs, slicing through the Thralls, Piax sent a rocket launcher shell at an Ogre and Cresora and Andara took cover and sniped. Uldren had disappeared behind a low wall.
Andara looked up at Osiris as she was reloading. He was still zipping around the room hurling flaming swords at the Hive. “He’s a asshole but your boyfriend’s kind of…you know.”
Good. Impressive. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she muttered, looking up at Osiris. “And he knows he’s kind of you know.”
It took twenty minutes and a lot of ammunition to overcome the Hive. Finally, the seven of them gathered in the centre of the room.
“All right,” Piax said, staring round at everyone, hands gripping her rifle and breathing hard. “For the rest of the patrol we are all going to focus.” Her eyes landed on Uldren. “That includes you, Your Highness. And you do not speak to my Fireteam with anything but respect. Are we clear?”
Witnessing the Guardians at work seemed to have subdued Uldren, and he merely scowled and looked away.
Two hours later they set up camp for the night. As Andara pulled off her helm Osiris glanced at her face. And then looked again.
Andara noticed. “You remember me, then.”
That seemed to startle Osiris. “You remember me. How is it that possible? When were you resurrected?”
But Andara turned away, her shoulders tight.
Cresora picked up her gun, looked at Osiris and nodded at the door. Taking her meaning he followed her out of the room. They walked along a walkway, a sheer drop on both sides.
“You remember who she is?”
He nodded. “From a long time ago. When she was mortal she was a scavenger I found disoriented on Mercury. I took her back to the Last City.”
“She wasn’t a scavenger, she was a Guardian, newly risen. She wandered into one of your experiments by mistake.”
Osiris looked at her sharply. “I didn’t know there was a Ghost. I didn’t feel her Light. How did she—Where did her Ghost—?”
But Cresora didn’t want to answer his questions. She had a few of her own. “What were you doing out there on Mercury? Her Ghost has been silent ever since it was trapped in your experiment. She doesn’t even know it’s name.”
“I was studying.”
He look annoyed, and didn’t seem to want to answer. She could well guess why. It was the work he was doing then that upset the Speaker and the Vanguard and led to his expulsion from the City. He was probably tired of defending his actions from that time. But she didn’t much care. She needed to hear it from him. “Studying what?”
“The Light. The extent to which we determine ourselves or whether the Traveler decides everything for us.”
“Does that matter?”
“Of course it matters,” he snapped. “But I wasn’t able to find out the truth so I moved on to other things. I will never stop looking for answers to the questions I have. I can see the way you’re looking at me, Cresora, but it’s the truth whether you like it or not. That is my purpose.”
She shook her head. “I admire your purpose, but you’ve left a lot of casualties in your wake in your search for answers. Andara. Saint. Lyssa.”
If he was surprised she knew about Lyssa he kept it to himself. “That all happened a long time ago, when I was far more reckless.”
Maybe it was the truth. The Vex seemed to have swallowed up most of his energies in recent decades and he had been right about Panoptes. But being right about the Vex didn’t magically make everything else right. “You never went back and tried to fix any of your mistakes.”
Osiris glanced back toward the camp. “It was such a long time ago. I’m not even sure if there’s anything I can do for her.”
“You’re supposed to be clever. Figure it out.”
When she returned to the camp Andara was reading on her pallet. Osiris could talk to her or not, that was his decision, but there was something Cresora might be able to do for Andara in the meantime. If there was one thing Cresora was really good with, it was Ghosts.
She knelt down beside the other Warlock. “Because you’re Awoken, I might have a way to help you with your Ghost. Connect with her. Would you like to try something with me?”
Andara looked at her doubtfully. “I guess. What do I, uh…?”
Cresora sat down cross-legged in front of Andara and motioned her to do the same. When they were knee to knee she said, “Close your eyes and give me your hands.”
Andara did as she was asked and Cresora began speaking softly, of the singing of the stars beyond the Reef. Of the Light that is spread throughout the universe. The Light that lived within Andara. Within her Ghost. That connected them long before even Andara’s resurrection.
She watched Andara’s face as she talked on. “It’s within all Awoken, the ability to forge connections with our minds. You and your Ghost are already strongly linked. Reach out to her with your mind. Feel her presence, and listen.”
Andara’s face suddenly creased with tears and she sobbed, pulling her hands out of Cresora grasp and covering her eyes.
“What is it?
“I can hear her singing,” Andara whispered thickly and looked up at her Ghost, tears shining in her eyes. “I can hear you.”
The Ghost whirred and danced excitedly. Piax came forward and crouched down beside her friend.
“What is your name?” Andara asked the Ghost, reaching up to pluck her out of the air and cradling her in her hands.
“What does she say?” Piax whispered.
Andara paused, listening, one hand to her mouth. “It’s hard to make out, but I think she’s saying Ayla.”
Shiro came forward and put a hand on Andara’s shoulder, and she wrapped an arm around his leg and leaned against him while she listened to her Ghost in her mind, smiling, tears trickling down her face. It was the first time Cresora had seen the Warlock smile.
She stood up and saw Osiris watching her, his eyes unreadable. He took half a step closer, and then hesitated, a question in his eyes. Part of her wanted to go to him. Put her arms around him. Rest the weight of her worries on his chest and close her eyes. It felt so good to be held by him. But the things that he’d done and hadn’t tried to fix stopped her, and she turned quickly away.
An hour later, after the others had fallen asleep, Piax came over to talk to her, whispering softly. “I was in the Tower when Osiris brought you back from the Dreadnaught. He was distraught. When he thought it was too late he started chanting something. I forget what it’s called but Andara can tell you. Some Warlock thing. It was…very moving, what he was doing and the way he feels about you. I just thought you should know. For what it’s worth.”
Cresora glanced at Osiris’s broad, sleeping back and remembered the moments before her Ghost revival. The feel of warm, golden wings wrapping around her even through the bleak certainty of death. Easing her passage.
“He hurt the man you love,” Cresora pointed out.
Piax’s mouth twisted. “He did. But from what I understand Osiris has only ever cared about his work before. If people want to change or put things right we should let them.” She studied Cresora for a moment. “I mean, that’s what we’re doing here, isn’t it?”
“I have found the queen.”
Cresora sat bolt upright on her pallet, recognising the metallic hum of Osiris’ reflections. One was standing before its master, relaying its news.
“I have found also the runes that the Hunter seeks. They are on the Hive crystal containing the Queen.”
They’d only been asleep for four hours but everyone scrambled up and grabbed their weapons. Even Uldren seemed keen to get moving, as if at last he believed that the Queen really was being held prisoner somewhere nearby.
The reflection led them on a hour-long hike through the Dreadnaught, down and down through the tunnels and into the far reaches of the ship. Waves of Cursed Thralls attacked them, their detonations fierce and sudden. The Fireteam looked down into a ritual room with a great black crystal in the centre.
“She is there,” the reflection said, and disappeared with a snap.
Piax turned to Shiro. “Is this what you were expecting to find?”
The Exo looked carefully around at the room, and then nodded.
“Is it going to be dangerous down there?”
“Yeah. I think it is.”
Piax stationed Osiris and Andara at the top of the room and told them to use their ranged supers and scouts. She turned to Cresora. “Stormcaller? You go down with Mercy and Shiro and carve it up. Uldren and I will come in from the sides with our autos.”
Osiris shook his head. “I’m a Stormcaller as well. I’ll go down, Cresora can stay up here and sn—”
“Yes, Piax, I’m going,” Cresora interrupted him. As she passed by him she hissed, “Don’t argue. You’re more use as a Dawnblade anyway.”
He caught her arm. “Be careful down there.”
Cresora looked into his tense brown eyes, not knowing what to say. She heard the soft thumps of Mercy and Shiro landing down on the ritual floor, and jumped after them.
The Hive emerged as if from nowhere, hundreds of them. Flaming swords fell all around her, burning away the enemies that might have been in range of her Stormtrance. She lobbed grenades instead, and used her fusion rifle on the toughest Knights. Traveler’s Light Osiris, I’m fine.
Until she wasn’t. Thrall came screaming out of nowhere, claws raised. She was changing to her auto rifle when her eyes swept over the crystal, and saw her. The Queen. Trapped within the crystal, her eyes wide and staring and her hands pressed against the translucent sides. Not screaming. The screaming was only on the inside.
Then the Thrall were upon her, a hissing, scratching mass. She couldn’t get her gun up to fire. A hand circled her wrist and pulled her to safety, and when she looked up it wasn’t Osiris that she saw, but the Prince.
“She’s all right, I can feel it,” he said roughly, shooting the Thrall in bursts. “We’re going to get her out but you need to keep fighting.”
Running into the centre of the room, Cresora summoned her Light and unleashed a wave of Arc energy. It swept from one enemy to the next, disintegrating them within a blaze of lightning. When the storm ended, the Hive were gone.
There were two thumps, Andara and Osiris landing next to her. She watched as Uldren and Shiro stepped forward to the crystal, searching for a way to open it. Her hands were shaking on her gun.
“It’s different to how we saw it,” she whispered to Osiris.
“We saw what she felt.”
Mara Sov came out of the crystal pale and trembling slightly, but on her own two feet. She looked around at her rescuers, her eyes half-lidded and cold. “Osiris. It has been some time.” She gave him a calculating look, and said slowly. “You knew I was here. You were going to leave me here.” Her eyes slid to Cresora. “Because of her. Petty, though understandable. She is the raven, isn’t she?”
Cresora stared at her. The queen been aware of so much throughout her entrapment?
The Queen turned to Uldren. “House of Kings. You have been busy, brother. Take me there, and we shall see what you have done.”
And with that the Queen strode carefully but solemnly out of the room, steadying with every step, as if she was growing stronger. At the threshold Uldren paused and looked back at Cresora, his mouth twisted as if with words he wanted to say. Then his eyes fell away and he strode out after his sister.
Osiris sat beside the purple-haired Warlock in the jumpship. “Can I talk to you, Andara?”
She was watching the rings of Saturn recede, and turned quickly to Osiris when she heard his voice. Shiro drew a step closer to her, his optics chilly. She put a hand on his chest. 
After taking a long, measured look at Osiris, the Hunter drew away and went to sit with Mercy.
“It’s easy not to pay attention to things when you feel important. When you feel busy. I should have realised you were a Guardian.”
Andara said nothing. The antipathy was rolling off her in waves.
“When you wandered into my experiment—
“Got caught in. I got caught in your experiment.”
“When you got caught in my experiment all I saw was a confused Dead Orbit scavenger. I never saw your Ghost.”
“She was there.”
He nodded. “I believe you. Would it help you if you had some answers? About what I was doing and what I saw?”
The young woman thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Try me.”
“I was studying the nature of the Light, looking for the way it influences Guardians and what we become. What we are. I was using my own Light and Sagira’s, teasing it apart in what I thought was a controlled environment. Then I saw you and stopped the experiment. You were very confused and couldn’t remember who you were.”
Andara glanced at the pretty golden Ghost hovering by Osiris’s shoulder. “And you didn’t mind? He would do that to you?”
[Oh, all the time, back in the old days. He experimented on both of us. Lately it’s just been Vex, Vex, Vex.] Sagira almost sounded like she missed the experiments.
The Warlock turned to him. “You should have told me at the time what had happened to me. You should have told someone at Dead Orbit. I didn’t understand anything that was happening to me. I felt so afraid.”
“I should have. I’m sorry.”
“I suppose you went right back to your experiments as soon as you dumped me back on earth.”
“I did.”
“Jeez, no wonder they banished you. Zavala might be boring and uptight but at least he cares.” She hesitated, seeming interested despite herself. “What did you find out, anyway? In that experiment.”
“Very little of interest. I gave up and moved onto Thanatonautics which I found much more rewarding. I’m sorry it wasn’t even worth it in the end, what happened to you.”
She shrugged. “Even failed experiments have their uses.”
Osiris raised an amused eyebrow. “I’ve always thought so, too.”
Andara looked at him for a long moment. “I heard you uncovered some parts of the Thanatonaut’s Lullaby. I like those passages. They’re very beautiful.”
“Have you tried it yourself?”
She shook her head. “I considered it. When I was looking for answers.”
“If you would ever like to try Thanatonautics, just because you’re interested, I would be happy to help you.”
“Maybe.” She glanced over at the others and then back at him. “Cresora’s really nice, you know.”
Osiris glanced at Cresora. Her golden eyes flickered over him and then away, and his heart constricted. “I know.”
“Then don’t be an asshole.” And with a look that could melt metal the Warlock turned away, and Osiris supposed that was as close to I forgive you as he was going to get from Andara.
He found her at the railings, looking out over the Last City. Cresora looked up at him as the golden light burnished his face.
“How does it feel? Now that it’s over.”
She smiled out across the houses and streets, at the pink clouds skirting the setting sun. “Better than I thought it would. It’s over. I’m so happy it’s over.”
The relief knowing that the Queen was free had been quickly replaced by a sense of elation. She didn’t owe them anything anymore, and they could think of her what they liked. She never had to think of them again.
He nodded slowly, and then let out a long, heavy sigh. “Things are not good between us. I wish I knew how to make things right.”
She remembered what he said to her when she was distraught over Uldren and the Queen.
I’ve made a lot of people angry with me over the cycles and I can honestly say not once has it bothered me.
Are you admitting to having made mistakes?
Cresora, I’m saying that there a thousand things I would devote my time to before I thought even one less than admiring thought about you.
“I am grateful, Osiris. Thank you for helping me.”
“Always. I’ll always want to help you, if you need me.” He looked at her hard, as if trying to make her believe him through sheer force of his will.
She hesitated. “I feel like there was something you were going to show me, before, when we got the vision of the Queen, but there wasn’t time.”
He looked down at her, his hand very close to hers on the railings. “Yes, there was something very special. The most important thing to me. It’s…my home, in a way. My heart. My soul.”
Is that what her own void of blackness and stars would become to her, over time, if she returned enough times? Her home? “And you were going to show me?”
“I’ll show you now, if you like.”
Their bodies were in the Simulant Past but the rest of them were in Cresora’s dark visions. She flew in a long, glorious circle, revelling in the freedom, the happiness she felt now that this place was no longer occupied by pain and screaming. 
Osiris twined around her, his feathers skimming her own, and then he flew toward the horizon. She followed. The blackness seemed to go on and on, the gold light a mere line in the distance. Then suddenly they burst through as if into sunshine, and he was all around her.
She saw him. Properly saw him. There was nothing he could hide from her as everything here was him, bright and gold and vital. Every flaw. Every strength. Is this how it was for him, when he saw her, the raven against the velvet night?
They flew up and up together, circling slowly, feathers skimming each other, higher and higher until the Light raced through them. 
When she opened her eyes she found him already watching her. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “That world of Light and gold. But the void is beautiful too. You saw the darkness and all I felt about myself in that place and you didn’t say anything. You didn’t tell me how it could be wonderful.”
“I didn’t want to tell you. I wanted you to see for yourself.”
She pressed her mouth against his, and tasted gold, shimmering against the darkness of the void.
“Little bird,” he murmured, kissing her back. “Little bird. You understand now, don’t you, why I love you? How could I not, when I saw all that you were, standing out so bright against the stars.”
They walked back to his spire, hand in hand, and in the window that looked out across Mercury, she turned to him. “What were those runes that Shiro was searching for? The ones on the Queen’s sarcophagus.”
Osiris tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pulled her closer to him. “They’re a special set of summoning runes for a ritual. Powerful ones. The Vanguard must have discovered their importance and sent Shiro to look for them.”
“What do they mean?”
He considered this for a moment, seeming reluctant to answer. “I’m not a Hive expert. Eris may now better than I do.”
“But what do you think they mean?”
“That the Hive are gathering their strength under a new leader. That the Queen was going to be used as a host. And that Savathûn is coming.”
Thank you for reading! xx
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vexkader · 4 years ago
Text
Solis Part 5
  An orange and yellow glow of an eastward sunset, shone over the sandy beach. A large hideaway full of lights blasted music. The synthetic sounds moved through my ears. The feeling of slightly sandy bamboo under my paws as I looked under this hideout, on the far side a full bar serving glowing drinks. 
  I looked around to see familiar yet aging faces, a few with their spouses as well. I wanted to try to talk to someone, but I felt so out-of-place here. This gut feeling that I'd rather be back at my ship. All other parties I've been to have been full of CEOs looking to talk business with me, not people catching up with their lives. 
  I moved carefully and quickly across the floor, making my way to the bar. Away from the humans and anthros dancing, talking, and laughing. Drinks, food, phones, all of them in their hands and paws. Groaning, I set myself at the bar, small blue and orange flames coming out around it. 
  "Anything you want?" The human bartender asked me, wiping the counter down from the last set of drinks served. The flames reflecting in its shine. 
  "Umm yeah, just give me a mountain jungle." I ask him quietly, looking around seeing who I could approach. My tail flicking gently behind me. 
  "Mhmm alright, don't do anything stupid now."
  "I can handle my drink." He starts to mix liquids, pouring this glowing brown and purple drink. Honestly hated how this thing looked, but the deep fruity flavors from Venus just hit everything right. Along with a hit of alcohol. Downing it, I could feel the burn in my throat. Putting the shot down I shake my face a bit. 
  As the shock of the drink wore off, I heard a voice at the other end of the bar. "Vex? That you? Where have you been all these years?" The booming voice startled me as I turn around to see a beastly sized human. Tanned skin and a dark blonde hair, he sets a beer down on the counter as he looked to me. 
  "Mhnn.. Kenneth right?" I asked, as I wasnt to sure on who this person was. To my surprise his eyes lit up, lifting his bear up in almost a celebration. "You remember! I'm kinda surprised to see you in a joint like this, how the hell did you get here?" He asks me, acting like we were longtime friends. Truthfully I only knew him from being occasional partners in group work. 
  "Well, the promise of free alcohol is usually a good way to get me out." I say with a half-joking laugh, even though that really was the reason I was out here. 
  "Cant argue with that I guess, what have you been up to man!" He takes a sip, turning the chair toward me as I prepared for an uncomfortable conversation. And as I tried to think of a convenient lie to tell him, as most of my work wasnt exactly legal.
  "I uh, do mostly free-lance retrieval. Ship goes down in the jungle, or some other place say on Earth or Mars I retrieve the data and whatever valuables I can find for the client."
  He nodded his head, at least pretending to be interested in what I was saying. "Mhmm okay, can seen a bit dangerous. You go into those jungles often?" 
  "I can yeah, was just in there the other day. Ran into slashers." His eye widened as he drank, looking like he was going to spit. "Salshers?! The hell kinda items are you retrieving?" 
  "Special ones, good pay though." 
  "I bet, I'm finishing up a degree in engineering. Not a masters or anything, but its gonna get me a good job on a few cargo ships. Already a job lined up for when I'm out on an Earth bound freighter."
  I nod, listening to his plans for life. Even if I was going to find someone to help me, it wasnt gonna be him. 
  "Nice seein ya Vex!" He gives me a pat on the shoulder, taking another drink. "You take care out in those jungles!"
  "I'll try my best."
  As he left to mingle with others, I kept an eye out. Others coming to say hello to me, and wanting to see what I've been up to. No one heard from me after graduation, one even thought I died. Which I can thankfully say I havent. However, one did catch my eye. 
  A brown and cinnamon furred coyote, almond-shaped icy eyes. Short not quite petite build. She strutted over in some casual clothing, over to the bar asking for a normal drink. Her name.. what was her name? 
  "Just have a cola please." She asked in a softer voice to the bartender, as he poured her a fuzzy drink. "Dont have a ride home?" He asks her as she shakes her head, sipping the drink. 
  She looked to me, a bit of shock in her eyes. "Vex?" She asks, setting down the drink. "That you? I never expected-"
  "Yes, it's me surprisingly." I interrupted, I was honestly getting tired of the question. "I didn't expect to be here either, yet I am!" 
  She smiles a bit, taking another drink. "It's good to see you though, highschool wasnt easy on you so it's good to see you here and looking decent."
  I felt awkward from the compliment, I was far from decent really. This old clothing I had was well below what most people were wearing, stained and muddied up from exploring planets. "Thanks I guess." I look away shyly, I wasnt here for this small talk. I hated this small talk shite! 
  "Oh jeez, you don't remember who I am do you?" She cocks her head, a sly smile almost laughing as she lifts her drink. "Friday remember? Friday Tisek?" 
  The name rushed back as I raised a finger, waving it a bit. "That's right, shite what did your parents do?"
  "Own a ship building company, BlueStar?" It all started coming back. While everyone was rich in my school, it was private after all, she was the rich of the rich. I mean hell, her parents sold ships and tech to the government and military sometimes. They had money, and of course that came with the thought of her being above everyone else. Come to think of it.. this may be what I need.
  "Right right, been on a few I believe, umm." I snap my fingers, thinking of the class of ship I was on. "Nova liners? They're a subsection right?" I ask her, my face puzzled. 
  She shakes her head, paws facing me as I had her interest. "Not really, they're more in good faith with mine. We occasionally share details, but that's about it really." 
  I nod, pretending I understood the business jargon of it all. "Ah, because I was on a cruise liner once for a trip around Mars. Very formal business you see." 
  Scoffing, she takes a moment to chew on some ice, swirling the rest around in her glass. The little spheres dancing about in the fizzy soda. "What kind of business do you run to take a line around Mars?" I told her it was mostly retrieval, leaving out my activities beyond the asteroid belt. 
  "Interesting, maybe you'd be up for some work for my father?" My ears perked, a job opportunity with some powerful friends with even more powerful friends? I'm all paws in. 
  "What kind of work is it?" I ask, leaning forward. 
  "You said retrieval right?"
  "I did." 
  "My father is holding a party for business associates and the like, seeing how you're a fan of them why don't you swing by. This weekend, I can forward you the details."
  I groan, not another party. I'd prefer she just give me his details, and not dance around the point. 
  "Any more information you can give me?" I tried to pry from her, hoping shed give. 
  "Hmm," She looked around the room, making sure no one was listening in. "Since you said retrieval, my father has bugged about something. Under Iceland."
  "Iceland?" My ears perk, whatever what could be so important in Earth's frozen north. Especially some island no one has lived on in centuries. 
  "Yes Iceland, I can't talk about it too much in the open." She tells me, looking around the patio to all the faces. 
  "Care to come back to my ship after this? I'd like to know a bit more before committing." 
  Groaning, she reluctantly agrees to come with me back to my ship. Honestly I wasnt a fan either, but a job is a job no matter who it's from. 
  We ordered a few more drinks, her another soda me some more alcohol. She tried small talk again, but honestly once business was over I had a hard time feeling it. 
  "No idea how you're able to handle drinks like that." She starts. "Last time I had alcohol I nearly threw it up."
  "Well, I mean I guess I'm just used to it. Always mixed the stuff myself."
  "Might've been the problem, I just had straight whatever it was. Burned the whole way, tasted terrible." She waves a paw, drinking from the soda. 
  I gave a slight chuckle, sipping on my drink. "Drinking straight was your first problem, gotta ease into it. Youd probably like something that has more taste to it than alcohol. Let's try something more customizable, and good for this beach."
  I order her a margarita, an old drink from Earth. Making sure the bar tender only put in a hint of alcohol. Trying it her eyes lit up, maybe not from taste however. "Well it's not terrible, kinda salty though." She licks her lips, her canine tongue trying to get the salty taste out of her mouth.
  "That's cause they salt the rim, after this one you want another without the salt?" She stops to think about my question, swirling the drink in her paws. Occasionally tapping a claw. "Sure why not, can't go that bad could it?" Taking another sip, she agreed to it. Leading to a long night ahead of us. 
  Unsurprisingly a lightweight, me and Friday probably drank for another hour. Or two. Getting a bit heavier and heavier, making the rest of the night an uneasy blur. 
  The things I do remember, I remember walking or more practically stumbling along the beach. As the sun set over the mountains beyond, the only light coming from the city and the party itself. Mine and Friday's paws sinking into the damp sand as we walked along. 
  Occasionally she touched a paw against mine, laughing at the smallest of things. One thing I'll give alcohol is I feel dumb enough to talk openly to people. A real confidence booster that one, although it very well leads to trouble for me. 
  As we stumbled back to the ship, I let her in. Making sure BB kept his AI mouth shut. From here things got really blurry, and I certainly don't remember talking about a job opportunity with her father. 
  
  
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lazybarbarians · 8 years ago
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Star Wars: Aftermath: Empire’s End by Chuck Wendig
Ragnell: So over the past two weeks we finished up the Aftermath trilogy with Empire’s End and now we are totally up to date on the state of the Star Wars universe one-year post-RotJ as pertains to everyone but Luke Skywalker.
And Ezra Bridger, and Kanan Jarrus, and Ahsoka Tano or really any of the animated-verse Jedi or Sith and any of the EU Jedi or Sith like Mara Jade who still might exist in some way.
But for the soldiers and scoundrels and surviving Imperials we have a status quo for about 29 years. We also know what happens to the core characters from the first Aftermath book which is honestly (and impressively, considering how little patience I have for original SW characters) what we read this thing for anyway. (As usual, I pretty much spoil everything in this recap below.)
So we open with several threads going on. Gallius Rax is flashing back to his Tuesdays with Palpatine excerpts, and gathering the pathetic remnants of the Imperial Navy on Jakku. Because Palpatine had a big secret project there, of which Gallius was an integral part. So integral that Palpatine appoints Gallius Rax as The Contingency which we can immediately tell will be a great pain in the ass to the whole galaxy.
Norra and Company are hunting down Mercurial Swift, so they can track down Rae Sloane. Temmin is annoyed he’s always stuck on getaway driver duty. The bounties on Jas from her old bosses are mounting. Sinjir is still having his career regrets, which are worsened by the fact that without Luke Skywalker around to point out sensible things like “I don’t think that’s good for the soul”, Sinjir basically still has to do the same job only for Norra. And Norra has entered Terminator Revenge mode, which is basically what has her asking Sinjir to do the same job and limiting Temmin to getaway driver duty. This is generally what everyone has to work past the entire story. They find out Rae Sloane is on Jakku and follow.
Surprise surprise, the pathetic in comparison to its former glory but still a really really lot of ships remnants of the Imperial Navy are there. This leads the good guys to split up, with Norra and Jas taking an escape pod to the surface because Norra’s in revenge mode (followed by Mr. Bones because Temmin is worried about his mother) and Temmin and Sinjir to go back to Chandrila to get embroiled in the political plot.
Kalinara: I actually thought Norra in revenge mode was one of the weaker parts of the story, unfortunately. It’s understandable that she’d be conflicted and angry, but there were points where she just seemed cartoonishly irrational. Norra was my favorite in the previous books, but I wasn’t as big a fan of her here.
R: Mon Mothma is facing a election challenge from the appropriately named Senator Wartol, a hardline warhawk who accuses her of weakness that led to the Liberation Day attack last book. Long story short, her challenger is a corrupt asshole who has criminal ties and uses them to rig a vote to actually PREVENT attacking Jakku so that he can say he voted for it but she’s a shit Chancellor for not even being able to put this together. Sinjir teams up with the Organa-Solo family and his ex-boyfriend Conder to resolve this. He does so well that Mon Mothma offers him a job as her aide, which resolves his career path crisis, enables him to skip the Jakku attack and settle down happily with Conder.
K:: How’s that for one of the first, explicitly gay characters in Star Wars? He and his boyfriend both get to live, AND get a happy ending to boot!
R: Temmin spends his time pestering Wedge Antilles to put him on a ship and send him to Jakku. Wedge, after last book’s mini-rebellion, isn’t even allowed to go himself and is stuck being an expeditor in the hangers. After several guilt-trips, Wedge finally relents and puts together the same group of outcasts from last book to sneak, unauthorized, into the battle and lets the 16 year old join them because Wedge Antilles has spent way too much time with Luke, Leia, and Han over the last 5 years.
Temmin’s been wanting to go back to Jakku, of course, because that’s where his mother, his droid and his.. Jas have been. Both Jas and Norra got captured by Niima the Hutt, who is horrible even as Hutts go. Norra was on some work-detail where Mr Bones the droid broke her out. Jas got to pull ever-increasing acts of badassery to avoid being taken in for her bounty, steal Swift’s ship AND steal Swift’s crew.
Also in Niima’s area, Rae Sloane and Brentin Wexley, who convince her to lead them to the Imperial Secret Squirrel place where they are promptly captured and forced to witness a ridiculous speech by Gallius Rax. Sloane undergoes some of her own career angst while Brentin actually manages to get them both free. They proceed to try to fuck up Gallius Rax’s mysterious plan, and go into the Imperial Secret Squirrel place.
While in there, Norra catches up to them and they all find out that due to an overly emphatic chess metaphor Gallius Rax has activated a weapon in the core of Jakku that will destroy the whole planet and both fleets. He’s also sent the Huxes off with a bunch of children to outside the Galaxy to meet other ships with imperials and children, and the Eclipse, so that Palpatine can continue to vex the Galaxy from beyond the grave. On the bright side he kills Tashu, who was actually such a dick I was hoping they’d save him for the Jedi to kill in a later story.
Norra, Brentin, and Rae have a great deal of emotional interaction about trust and distrust, and a rather kickass three-against-one fight with Gallius in between trying to shut down the weapon. Brentin gets through all the defenses but stops to save Norra and gets killed. Rae actually turns down the weapon while Norra, feeling that her trust of Sloane was justified, drags her husband’s body out for burial. Rae then boards a ship with the Huxes and a bunch of feral brainwashed proto-Stormtroopers for the Eclipse, because she is not actually finished being evil yet.
K:: I was surprised by how much I liked Brentin, in particular, in this book. He was more plot point than character last time (even if he was a helpful juxtaposition against all those “no, Kylo is BRAINWASHED!” justifications), but here, we got to see more of who he is as a man. I was rather disappointed they killed him off. I might have liked the novelty of Norra and Brentin going through an amiable divorce.
Sloane was pretty great too. And for all of my complaints about Norra previously, she and Sloane had such a great dynamic once they finally met up. And I’m thrilled at the idea that we might see her again.
R: Wartol is arrested because he tries to kill Mon Mothma, but really only manages to destroy her office and kill the advisor who hadn’t been fleshed out until this book so we could feel bad about her. Mas Amedda manages to escape Coruscant and sign a surrender treaty. Leia attends the signing, during labor (because kid, you are gonna have to wait until galactic peace gawddammit) and thus manages to freak out her husband, attain galactic peace AND have a baby. Nothing in this book manages to excuse Kylo Ren’s horrible horrible crimes, and in fact knowing what’s coming you kind of cringe at one scene. Wedge Antilles and the Wexleys all go to the new pilot academy. Jas sets up shop with the crew she stole from Swift, and grieves Jom who went to Jakku to find her and was killed in the battle. Sinjir settles down with his new career and Conder.
K: Seriously. I didn’t see anything that remotely indicated any “mind control from birth” or whatever nonsense. It isn’t even clear that Snoke EXISTS at this point in time. Any passage that could even be remotely stretched to mean some kind of fetus communication actually has a clear explanation in the text itself.
R: Actually, every character that we might have speculated would BE Snoke was specifically killed off
For the rest of the Galaxy, Chewbacca finds his son. Lando Calrissian regains his rightful place as Baron Administrator of Cloud City (which I believe is a 4-point Freehold if you’re tracking SW characters with White Wolf rules). Jar Jar Binks makes a friend and lives out the rest of his days entertaining orphans and avoiding politics. Coruscant ends up run by Mas Amedda anyway, but technically part of the New Republic. The Sith-worshipping Acolyte group from the Interludes was revealed to be sponsored by Tashu and dedicates itself to causing shit across the Galaxy and will almost certainly factor into the Jedi storyline. A charismatic leader, Brin, forms the Church of the Force which we already know factors into the Jedi storyline. It’s revealed that there are facilities known as Observatories, set up by Palpatine, that have been receiving data from outside the known galaxy all over the galaxy and not just on Jakku and that’s probably going to come into play somewhere too. The crazy pirate who found a Super Star Destroyer Dreadnought last book has cobbled together a functioning society of pirates around the ship. The residents of Tattooine have decided to just raise their own damned Hutt, Borgo, from childhood so they can have one who’s more compassionate than Jabba was. Luke is stated to be looking for old Jedi stuff.
That was a long recap, but one of the most tantalizing aspects of this trilogy is finding out just what the status quo in the Galaxy was after they finally wiped the bloated corpse of the Empire’s bureaucracy off of the map and got their new government underway. In general, it’s pretty satisfying. You follow your six Republic heroes, with some of the named characters from the movies as supporting cast, and your two main Imperials and their support, and get kind of a view of the rest of the universe. In a couple of places, these interludes tie into the main climax but others are just epilogues for the locations in the movies or tantalizing threads for when we find out what Luke has been up to.
K: I admit, that’s what I’m waiting for most. This was a fun side trek, but where is my favorite character, damnit?
R: I’m hoping we get another trilogy explaining this after The Last Jedi premieres. Or it’s the focus of the next animated series. Ezra seems custom-made to work as a foil for Luke, and Ahsoka was written out in a way that places her in safe-keeping until after RotJ.
One thing I found myself thinking from this last book, though, is that I feel better about The Force Awakens. I know a few OT fans who were very upset about everything Luke and Leia lost in the prelude to that movie and during it. I know a couple I saw who commented that they didn’t think Luke’s actions in RotJ were even that big an effect, since the Death Star was destroyed anyway. The view of the galaxy as seen in this trilogy, PARTICULARLY Jakku as compared to what we saw in the movie, changes that. You get the impression that even though there are still darksiders active, that a remnant of the Empire has left to regroup, that there’s still corruption and pirates and bullies and innocent people languishing in extreme poverty and hardship… that there’s still been a lasting improvement directly attributable to the actions of the heroes in the movies and the heroes in these books. Jakku at Rey’s time is actually a less horrible place than seen in this book. Many of the locations from the movies show people taking action and spreading hope. The remains of the Empire are the Emperor’s last middle finger to the Galaxy, and even after thirty years of gaining strength are still not the relentless, overwhelming presence in everyone’s life they were in Rogue One. The Galaxy was not instantly fixed, and much of the progress was wiped away, but there’s still a lot to hold onto. They came a long way between RotJ and TFA.
There’s really only one disappointment about this book. Tashu’s death. I joked above, but in the first book of this trilogy his main role is torturing a captive Wedge Antilles. The fallout from this is more realistic than you usually see in action-adventure fiction, where Wedge is still recovering throughout the second book both physically and emotionally. They’re unclear on whether he’s still using a cane this book or not, but either way it’s a long-term lingering impairment. He gets to staredown and work a little on his rage at Sloane last book, but he is never shown confronting Tashu. He’s never in the same room as the villain who put him through all of that. Tashu also never has a greater impact on any other main characters either from just this trilogy or the movies, meaning this villain was specific to one major hero and had a huge impact on that hero’s life and role in a story that covers at least half a year. Tashu isn’t saved for a later book or confrontation, he gets offed by Gallius and that’s a bit of a bummer.
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sfdfmoviereviews · 8 years ago
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Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi Teaser Trailer Reaction
And so there is a new Star Wars trailer, and so we must discuss it greatly:
youtube
(SPOILERS BELOW FOR THE FORCE AWAKENS, ODDLY ENOUGH)
When we last left Finn, Poe, and Rey, they were in a coma, off to fight the First Order, and finding Luke Skywalker respectively. So it is unsurprising to find ourselves opening on Rey’s training in the Force:
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Note that she’s still in the same clothes in which she left Jakku, and her hair isn’t in that much-guarded style yet, so it’s likely that this takes place not long after the closing shot of The Force Awakens. That’s in contrast to the years that passed between the first and second installments of the previous trilogies.
“Breathe, just breathe. Now, what do you see?” intones Master Luke, as we cut to General Organa examining a map of the galaxy inside some base or starship:
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That place is a lot nicer than the Resistance’s digs in The Force Awakens, and is most likely the property of a Republic taking a war footing after the destruction of it’s capital. “Light...” replies Rey.
Then we get... whatever this is:
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Is that Kylo Ren’s helmet? I’m pretty sure that’s Kylo Ren’s helmet. I’ll wager he’s busted it up himself in a fit of rage. Given the great significance of unmasking in Star Wars, this is likely some highly symbolic gesture. “... darkness...” continues Rey.
I don’t know what this is either:
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It looks like crystals of some sort (kyber crystals?) nestled inside a tree (That tree from Shattered Empire?)
Or it could be this book:
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Which is presumably some part of Jedi lore, and a very very old one at that. We know the Jedi and the Sith traditionally use holocrons for recording their knowledge, so anything written in a book must be ancient. That makes some sense, given that Luke was supposedly looking for the first Jedi temple when he disappeared. If he found it, odds on it was filled with nigh-mythic storage formats.
“... the balance” finishes Rey, which is a highly loaded statement. If you remember your prequel trilogy mythos, you will know that Anakin was supposedly the One prophesised to bring balance to the Force. Whether he actually did that in bringing down the Jedi, or whether he failed is the subject of great debate by nerds everywhere. Remember, all good prophesies should be loaded with ambiguity, such that the teller might spring twists on us without fear of contradicting themselves. Here though, Rey speaks of a balance between light and dark, whatever that might mean.
Never mind though! Because then we get this magnificent long shot of Rey practicing with a lightsaber:
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(that’s not a good screencap, so watch it properly) over which Luke replies “It’s so much bigger”. So that vexing balance is not the be all and end all of the Force, and there is much mysticism to explore still.
Cut to some cool flying things:
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I dunno what these are, but I’m pretty sure none of the military forces in the galaxy would go spewing red smoke everywhere. It’s likely something else; possibly pirates, possibly a race or some kind of performances or something. That’d be interesting as most of the set pieces in Star Wars involve some kind of war (Episode I’s podrace being a notable exception), and it’d be nice to see some other kind of event.
Finn’s in a pod:
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Given his state at the end of Episode VII, I’m guessing it’s some kind of medical gizmo. That blue in the background does look a little like hyperspace however, so he could be on his way somewhere.
Poe and BB-8 are on the run:
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They’re most likely in an attacked spaceship (again, a much nicer looking one), because then we get this:
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BLACK ONE NO! (Note the A-wings to the left and right).
The Falcon blows up some TIE fighters:
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It’s an open question who’s flying her though.
Rey’s on the run:
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And Kylo’s escalating things:
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There’s some clear visual imagery here, with the static Kylo Ren contrasting with the running Rey. My take is that our hero Rey is rushing into action to right wrongs and triumph over evil,while Kylo Ren stands in a rightful place, expecting adversary to come to him. Your mileage may vary.“I only know one truth...” intones Master Luke.
And then this:
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That looks like a continuation of Rey’s vision in Maz’s dungeon from The Force Awakens, as does this:
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Whether that’s something from Luke’s past- the Knights of Ren destroying his students and school- or something from the future remains to be seen.
SPACE BATTLE:
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Those are some big ships, bigger than anything we saw the Resistance fly, and reminiscent of the Rebel Frigate from the end of The Empire Strikes Back:
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(I’m calling them Nebulon-Ks until told otherwise). They look to be defending some planet from the First Order.
“It’s time for the Jedi to end” Finishes Master Luke:
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Another incredibly loaded statement to break down. It’s worth noting that Luke hasn’t had the best experience with the Jedi, what with his father falling to the dark side, his mentors lying to him, and his own incarnation of the order being destroyed. Consequently, it’s feasible he’s not that big on the concept anymore. Additionally, his mentioning of the Force being so much bigger than light and dark could mean he no longer sees the Jedi as a relevant organisation, and that he believes it’s time for something new. It’s also possible that his student Rey doesn’t agree with him on all of this. Ultimately, we’ll find out in December.
So that’s the new Star Wars teaser. There’s a few things we don’t see: Apart from a few TIE fighters we don’t see much of the First Order- there’s no Hux or Phasma to be seen- and there’s no more Snoke. Curiously, we don’t see the bottom of Kylo Ren’s face, as is also the case with this poster:
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It’s possible that’s significant; for example, he may have grown a really embarrassing goatee. Again, he’s unmasked here.
So far, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi looks to be about as expected, with loads of Force stuff and more Star War. I for one am excited.
Tim
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404botnotfound · 5 years ago
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The Line [6]
…and where to draw it
SERIES: Destiny WORD COUNT: 7,026 SHIP: Quinn/Drifter CHARACTERS: quinn leonis (AU), glyph, kel, luke, roland, nyx-14, ikora rey
vi. noumenon
n. (in philosophy) a thing as it is, independent of any conceptualization or perception by the human mind; a thing-in-itself, postulated by practical reasoning but existing in a condition which is, in principle, unknowable and unexperienceable.
................................................
Something is wrong.
Even before her eyes open, she knows something is wrong. It’s an overpowering gut feeling, a sickening twist in her stomach that comes into her awareness long before the blaring klaxons that seem both deafening and murky as though she’s hearing them underwater.
Fire crackles nearby. Her eyes blink open, and some system within the cell blocks in her sight spurts gouts of flame.
She knows this place.
The cell blocks are a dead giveaway, the repurposed Fallen architecture utilized by the Reefborn Awoken her next clue. The Prison of Elders stretches high into the distance above her, so high it fades into a foggy haze. Funny, she doesn’t remember the Prison being this big.
Dazed, Quinn pushes herself off the rubble she’d been laying in, looking around and wondering how she’d gotten here.
The Prison is in ruin, raging fires in pockets all around her as she takes in her surroundings. Pathways in the distance and high above are collapsing or twisted in the explosions and heat—under her feet the catwalk she’s on shudders, and she dives to the next only seconds before it collapses into the open chasm below.
There isn’t an enemy in sight. The intact blocks are empty, and she can see no explosions, hears no gunfire or angry roars from the Prison’s usual Cabal, Hive, and Fallen captives. Just the fire and echoing alarms and an odd shunk, shunk, shunk through the unnatural chaotic stillness of the air.
Her throat constricts with unease. “Petra?” She calls, uncertainly, wondering why Glyph isn’t with her and why she isn’t armed. “Nik? Kel? Cayde?”
No one answers her.
They’re supposed to be stopping a massive prison break. They need to be in contact, need to be coordinating—why aren’t they answering?
With urgency, she heads for the nearest bulkhead. The door is caught on a sheet of metal driven violently through it, mechanisms still attempting to close and resulting in the odd noise she had noticed before.
She slips through the opening with a warp, moving blind without Glyph to guide her through the damaged cell blocks and levels—down, down, down. Calls go out for her allies at intervals, her voice growing more frantic with the persistent silence that answers her.
“This is a Cayde riff in 6,” she hears Cayde say from somewhere ahead of her, and her heart jumps into her throat for a reason she can’t identify, “watch for the changes and, uh...try and keep up.”
The teasing statement that’s just so Cayde should make her laugh. An echo of her own laughter rings off the walls that blur past her, but her mouth doesn’t move, and all she feels is an inexplicable dread. Her skin prickles with déjà vu.
All but sprinting through the halls now, she recklessly leaps down through gaps in the block levels to reach the end faster—the end? Why does she think it’s the end? Why does it feel like one?
Her footsteps make no sound as she runs. The blaring klaxons have faded. Fire roars silently around her, explosions devoid of riotous noise.
In the massive chasm that spans the center of the Prison, the command center from the top of the structure, spouting fire and leaving shattered debris falling after it, plummets so quickly and so silently she only knows it happens because it’s happened before.
Her panic spikes, realization crashing through her like a tidal wave.
She’s not moving fast enough, and her muscles are already straining with how hard she’s pushing herself.
The block ahead of her is barricaded with flame and rubble, so she changes course and dives through a break in one of the cells into the innards of the Prison. Ahead of her is an open gap between rows and rows of cryopods and individual cells tower above and below, the grated bridge she’s on collapsing into the dark below.
Without hesitation, she throws herself off of it and she falls,
falls,
falls.
The drop should break her legs, shatter every bone in her body and leave her crippled or dead, but instead she falls to her knees with shaking limbs, swearing at herself for the time she spends stunned. She needs to keep going.
“Cayde?” She calls out, frantic now as she pushes herself to her feet and stumbles forward.
Turning down a long hallway, she sprints directly for the bulkhead that strikes her with dreadful familiarity. Faster, faster—but the hall stretches and stretches and for every step she takes it seems she only moves an inch ahead.
Muffled sounds of a raging fight reach her from beyond the door, the familiar cadence of an unmistakable gun and feral shrieks and howls making her heart pound with terror.
She’s so close. She can make it this time.
A silent sob bubbles in her throat at the sound of a guardian’s explosive burst of charged light.
“Help me out here, little buddy,” Cayde’s voice, unsteady and weak, comes after a delay.
The door opens as she reaches it, time seeming to slow as she takes in the sight before her. Fiery rubble of the central command station from the top of the prison, the destroyed cell blocks, the eight hulking figures of the Scorned Barons on the landing above, and all the scrap-armored bodies of what had once been Fallen.
Cayde, standing in the center of it all. His back is to her and his shoulders are slumped with exhaustion. He holds his left hand out as his side; Sundance appears in a flicker within his upturned palm, her white and yellow shell shimmering like a beacon in the dim light.
Quinn bolts forward, opening her mouth to cry out in warning, but no sound leaves her.
A single, deafening shot echoes.
Sundance shatters.
Light explodes outwards from her destroyed shell. Quinn skids to a halt, holding her arms up to block the blinding light that washes over her and leaves her sick with despair.
When the wash of light fades and she lowers her arms, she’s met with another dim interior, fluorescent lights lining the edges of sharp angles, grated metal catwalks, and solid bulkheads. It’s some kind of bay, stretching into the distance, so far she can’t see the end.
She’s in a ship. It feels familiar, but she can’t place why.
Farther down from the raised catwalk she stands on is technology she’s also familiar with—a Vex gate, altered from what she’s seen on Io, Nessus, Mercury, and Venus. It’s empty, but she feels a power radiating from it that doesn’t belong.
What’s it doing here, on a ship?
“You gonna go or not, darlin’?” The Drifter’s voice cuts through the low thrum of ship engines muffled by the hull of the ship, and though he hadn’t been there a moment ago she’s somehow not surprised when he steps up next to her.
Go? She thinks, Go where?
But she knows what he means. She’s not sure how, but she does.
Anger pulses through her as Sundance’s death replays in her mind, as the distant feeling of Cayde dying in her arms brushes like a phantom over her skin. If she jumps through that gate, will it take her to Uldren? Why does he have it?
“Don’t let his death weigh on you.” He says, voice echoing more than it rightfully should within the acoustics of the bay. “Somewhere out there, someone’s got a bullet with your name on it.”
She frowns and looks to her right, but the Drifter is gone as though he’d never been there at all.
Orange light flickers from a hall near the rear of the bay behind her, warm and almost inviting. It’s tempting to go that way instead, but—
—her eyes return to the gate, and with clenched fists she takes a step forward. Then another, and one more, until she breaks into a full run down the catwalk and leaps through.
Space dissolves around her and the ship vanishes, her vision going blank and the feeling of nothingness gripping at her limbs and pulling, pulling, trying to stop her from moving forward. Trying to trap her in the empty in-between of existence and nonexistence.
She fights it, and with an eruption of color and sensation reality coalesces around her.
The new space she finds herself in is a direct contrast to the dark interior of the ship, open and blindingly bright.
She’s standing in a flat open desert of pure white, hard and unnaturally geometric stone, dusty ground bleached of all color and spanning far and wide. The sky is clear, dark blue and sparkling brilliantly with stars. On the horizon is a massive planet, almost entirely eclipsing a star that peeks over its edge.
It’s utterly, unsettlingly silent around her. Even when she steps forward, expecting the sound of sand sifting or stone crunching under her boot, she hears nothing.
Ahead of her is a massive spire, an inverted pyramid made of the same snow-white stone that makes up the thin path before her. A thin sheen of gold cuts a sharp line through its rigid geometry, odd circular symbols with lines cut through them engraved into the surface.
It floats above the ground, and Quinn finds herself drawn towards it.
how did it come to be here?
WHAT A THIN LINE IT TREADS.
Her steps falter, the words an amalgamate of voices within her head that sends a violent shiver up her spine. Whatever spoke feels vast and unfathomable, beyond her understanding. Incomprehensible, speaking in tongues that she shouldn’t but somehow does understand.
The whisper of claws, so razor-sharp she imagines they can cut through the very fabric of reality, brushes across her back, and she goes rigid.
Run.
Inhaling sharply, she moves forward and puts on as much speed as she can, trying not to think about how whatever it is following her easily keeps pace. Faster, please, go faster, she needs to go faster.
c a n i t s e e?
++NO, IT IS STILL BLIND++
A massive pit appears before her, right below the point of the inverted spire. What is she running from? What is she running towards? Her chest heaves with exertion, boots still utterly silent in the empty landscape.
The only sound she hears, save for the terrifyingly eldritch voices in her mind, is the howling vortex coming from within the pit ahead.
W H A T W I L L I T C H O O S E?
She leaps from the edge of the pit and falls into the hungry whirlpool of light or darkness below, the current dragging her violently under, filling her lungs and drowning her with viscous eternity.
 Her eyes open and she sucks in a desperate gasp of air, her heart racing and skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
Above her is no roaring flame, no broken Prison, no ship bay, and no impossibly silent alien world—just the bland, familiar sight of her bedroom ceiling. A fan rotates lazily, the soft whirr of it only noticeable thanks to the quiet of the room.
She stares at the spinning blades and counts her heartbeats until they’ve slowed to a normal pace, letting her eyes close; her hand lifts from under the warmth of her blanket and fingers thread into her hair.
Is she going to open her eyes to the sight of a beaten and battered Cayde again? Will he be standing in her room, blaming her for not reaching him in time? For not helping him? For not doing what she should be doing—for not hunting Uldren down?
Her stomach churns.
This isn’t the first time she’s dreamt of the Prison of Elders and not the first time she’s relived Cayde’s death, but it hurts just as keenly as the first. She swallows and fights to push away the despair curling like black smoke in her lungs.
Don’t cry. You’ve cried enough.
She still hasn’t decided whether or not watching Sundance’s final operational recording had been a good idea. Was it better to have never seen how bravely and how hard Cayde had fought in his last moments, or having seen it and knowing that in the end it had all been for nothing?
The nightmare always ended there, right as Sundance died. This is the first time she’s ever experienced more beyond that bright flash of a dying ghost’s light, and she’s not sure she likes it any more than the rest.
It’s just stress. She’s driven herself to the point of exhaustion between weeks of restless sleep and unhealthy loss of appetite and weight—combine that with Gambit and willingly subjecting herself to the Taken while competing in it, all of it is nothing more than stress induced delirium.
Already the Drifter’s words and the faceless voices she had heard are fading, the images growing indistinct and murky. Just nightmares, nothing more. Kel had told her to ignore them, and so she does.
She doesn’t even remember getting back to the Tower after leaving the Drifter’s ship yesterday, let alone making it back to the team’s apartment or even into bed. Is she still—yep, still wearing her pants and the sleeveless undersuit from her armor. At least she’d had the sense to ditch the armored coat and boots before climbing into bed.
The hope that driving herself to the point of exhaustion with Gambit would keep her nightmares at bay is apparently falling short. She’s already pushing herself beyond her limits, and if even four Gambit matches in the three weeks since the first isn’t doing it, how much harder is she going to have to force herself before it does?
Arriving home with no memory of the trip and more than a handful of mortal close calls in just five matches; Glyph would have a fit if she tries to push for more frequent matches. It hasn’t stopped trying to talk her out of participating, but its efforts had gradually lessened over the last few weeks.
It doesn’t like the game or the Drifter, and she knows that every time she steps onto the Derelict it’s terrified for both hers and its own life, but every time she tells herself that she should stop—if for no other reason than for its well-being—she can’t bring herself to do it.
It’s helping, even if not in the way she had hoped.
While she’s never been a slouch in the field, she’s starting to see why Shaxx utilizes his Crucible as a training ground in addition to the morale-boosting spectator sport. After just a few Gambit matches, she can feel her skills honing. She’s getting quicker at thinking on her feet, her reflexes improving through necessity, her aim sharper and more instinctual. 
She still hasn’t figured out how to recreate the intoxicating rush of power from her invasion in the first match, or even what it was, but aside from all of that, the competition was helping her feel better.
Her smiles are still paper thin and nowhere near as bright as she could manage before, but they’re coming more frequently. The Taken, too, are bothering her less and less with every match. They no longer send her into fits of panic, and she’s able to brush off the skin-crawling discomfort of their presence easier.
The latter two effects are likely the only reason Glyph’s attempts at talking her out of the game had lost their vehemence and it had stopped threatening to tell Nik or Kel.
“Was it the same?”
Her eyes open and she turns her head to the side, seeing Glyph floating above the surface of her nightstand and blinking at her worriedly. Letting out a breath, she sits up and swings her legs off the side of the bed. “Yeah. I never make it in time.”
“You know it’s not your fault, right?” It says, drifting closer. “There wasn’t anything any of us could have done.”
“I guess.” She winces at the flat response. She wishes she could at least fake not being so cynical for her ghost’s sake, but she disagrees—she could have been faster, could have gotten there quickly enough to shield them and maybe Cayde would still be here.
It stays quiet, waiting, but when she doesn’t offer more it fills the silence. “There was more to it this time, wasn’t there?”
She hesitates before answering; telling it outright that the Drifter had shown up likely isn’t going to do much more than provoke its ire at him. “After Sundance died I was on a ship. Then I jumped through a Vex gate and was on...I think a different planet. Some kind of big, white desert with a huge floating pyramid and a pit that I jumped into. And voices.”
“Voices?” It blinks, shell spinning in surprise. “You mean aside from—?”
She nods.
“What did they say?” It asks.
Would’ve been a great question to ask her a few minutes ago when the nightmare was still fresh in her mind; her brow furrows, and she strains to think of what she had heard as she ran through that strange, alien planet. “Something about being blind, I think. Probably just my subconscious telling me to knock it off, right?”
It lets out a disapproving beep at the wry smile she gives it, flitting over to the other side of the room when she stands to change out of her armor and into something casual. “You already know I don’t like what you’ve been up to lately.”
“Do you have any better ideas for how I should kill time while Prince Fuckwit is out causing problems we could easily put an end to?” She demands.
It says nothing for long enough that she shakes her head and resumes dressing. “The Festival starts today.” It says, quietly.
Her breath catches. She’s seen the banners and decorations being strung up over the past few days, multi-colored string lights and altars of candles set up around the Tower. She’s been trying to avoid thinking about it. “I’m really not in the mood for cider and jokes.”
“You can at least participate in the events and games.” Glyph follows her as she leaves the room, its voice insistent.
A haunted forest is usually set up within a large garden down in the City, and many guardians and civilians alike participate by running around with gaudy or funny masks. There are parties, contests, and hunters gather to tell scary stories to small crowds. Candy and laughs are traded, and sometimes a game of ‘keep away’ happens when a hunter appears with one of the soccer balls that keep inexplicably popping into existence in the Tower.
Or engrams—Cryptarch Rahool had been sent into a fit a few years back when he’d found a group of hunters and titans playing hacky-sack with an engram he had yet to decrypt.
None of it sounds palatable to her, and at the very least she knows she’s in good company. Kel hadn’t ever shown interest in participating in the Festival for as long as she’s known him.
“I don’t want to.”
Glyph huffs. “Cayde wouldn’t want you to mo—”
Someone leaps out in front of them, yelling and waving their arms wildly, with a ghastly mask of a Fallen vandal covering their face. Both Quinn and Glyph freeze in surprise, blinking silently at the figure.
“Hi, Quinn.” Luke says from behind the mask, voice cheery as he wiggles his fingers. His blue-shelled ghost, Gibson, bounces and laughs at their reaction behind Luke’s shoulder.
Her expression falls flat. “Hi, Luke.” She steps around him and proceeds into the living area.
Kel sits on the couch by the coffee table, one of his sniper rifles partially disassembled and parts set in an orderly fashion on the table’s surface; he’s still the only one on the team that manually cleans and cares for his guns, and they had yet to figure out why.
Near the front door stand Nyx and Roland, the former fiddling with what looks like a mask featuring Rahool’s face and the latter standing near her looking surly.
“Festival starts today!” Luke falls into step with her as she moves into the kitchen, voice muffled until he lifts the mask onto the top of his head. “You’re coming with, right? We’re gonna try to spook Ikora. Well—I am. And then we’re gonna go check out the forest.”
“I’d like to avoid a bigass shotgun to the face, but thanks for the offer.” Quinn replies, ignoring him as she looks for something to eat. An apple’s good enough, right? She doesn’t feel like putting forth the effort to make anything.
She probably should—she’s tiny enough already without the unhealthy weight loss. It’s gotten better over the last few weeks, but she’s still too thin for her own tastes.
Her shoulders lift in a shrug at the thought and she bites into the apple, still studiously ignoring Luke as she leaves the kitchen. She’ll find something to eat out in the commercial area later.
He follows her, looking dejected by the response, and she tries not to feel bad. “C’monnnn. Even Roland is coming!”
“Not by choice.” The aforementioned hunter grouses, leaning away from Nyx when the exo swats at him.
Nyx huffs with a flash of her jaw light and returns to putting the final touches on her mask with Kessler’s help. “Don’t be such a grouch. You’re worse than Kessler.” Her ghost, in retaliation, smacks into the side of her head with a metallic tink, and she laughs.
Quinn drops down into an armchair near Kel. “I don’t really feel up to it, Luke.”
Across the room, Roland’s dark eyes narrow on her at her response, and she silently begs him to not mention that she’s been borrowing his ship to leave the City. A sigh of relief is barely bit down by her when he drops the suspicious look.
“Okay,” Luke sighs dramatically, slouching as he steps over to where Nyx and Roland wait. “But if you change your mind, you have to let us know!”
“Sure.” She has no plans to change her mind.
Satisfied with the bland answer, Luke leaves. Nyx slips her mask on, grabs hold of Roland’s cloak—he’s just like Kel, never seeming to enjoy being out of his armor—and then drags him out the door with her, leaving just her and Kel alone in the now quiet apartment.
Echo, with her black and pink-spotted shell, appears next to Kel after that, floating down towards the weapon parts Kel is meticulously putting back together; she catches sight of Glyph floating next to Quinn’s head.
Both ghosts freeze—and then with a bright chirp, Echo darts towards Glyph. The two of them take off, flitting rapidly around the apartment in a ghost version of a game of tag.
Kel pauses with his hand hovering over a piece of his rifle, joining Quinn in watching the two ghosts play with an air of amusement. “They’re more in the holiday spirit than you are,” he says after a length.
She looks over at him, watching him work. He’s quiet, patient, and much warmer and more open than he had been once upon a time, but his entire demeanor is still reserved and careful. She frowns. “I don’t really have a lot to be spirited about.”
“You’re alive,” he points out, glancing up at her with an inscrutable look. “You’ve got friends. Your team. A companion that cares about you even though it’s under no obligation to be yours. That’s nothing to be spirited about?”
“Cayde’s dead.”
He hums low in bitter agreement, slapping the rifle’s magazine into place. “He’s dead, and nothing’s going to change that. Not dwelling on it, not hunting down the man that killed him, and not hiding from people that care about you or hoping that something else will erase the fact it happened.”
She goes still at the look on his face. Does he know? It shouldn’t bother her if he does—it’s not like he handled Gil’s death any better, from what she’s heard.
“I’m just...I need the space, Kel. You should know what that’s like better than anyone,” she finally says, using the excuse of throwing her finished apple in a nearby waste bin to break his stare.
Hadn’t he disappeared for a month after Gil was killed in action? Longer than that, still, since he’d left immediately after helping rescue her from the Dreadnaught. It had been two years since anyone had seen or heard from him when he finally returned during the Red Legion invasion.
His lips twitch as though he knows what she’s thinking, and he reaches for the last remaining piece of his rifle. “Distance can be more self destructive than reaching out for help. There’s a difference between isolation and grieving. Took me almost two thousand years to learn it.”
Glyph and Echo stop their game and drift back into the room. Echo flits down to Kel when he props it up on the floor for her to scan and return to his inventory. She lets out a soft trill and then flashes out of sight.
“Take my advice as your friend,” Kel stands, looking down at her with an expression that softens the usually hard edges of his face, “and don’t wait that long to figure it out yourself.”
She blinks at him as he moves for the door, speechless not only because she has no idea what he means but also because of the open display of emotion. Even when with her, that doesn’t happen. “Does the Vanguard need your help again?”
He pauses at the question. “No. I’m going to go enjoy the Festival.” His features are obscured by the helmet Echo transmats over his head, and he leaves without saying anything else.
She’s not sure how long she sits there in stunned silence, trying to process everything that had just happened. Between his advice, the studying look he’d given her, and then admitting he’s going out to enjoy the festivities—
In all the years she’s known him, Kel’s gone out of his way to avoid nearly all social events within the City, to the point where he grabs as many solo operations as possible to get away from the City during them.
He still keeps his distance from people, disappearing at infrequent intervals to be alone—where the hell does he get off, telling her to stop avoiding people?
Why is everyone so insistent that she just stop being so upset that Cayde is gone? That she needs to stop dwelling on it and go laugh and enjoy things as they are, as though nothing is wrong? How can she when the bastard that killed him is still on the loose?
“Quinn.” Glyph’s voice draws her out of her suddenly furious thoughts just in time for her to realize that her face is wet.
She lifts a hand and swipes away the tears that had fallen, upset with Kel and upset with this stupid fucking Festival and pissed at herself for crying because she’s angry—who the fuck cries because they’re angry?
“I was doing it again,” she snaps, her voice cracking. “I know.”
Damnit, and she told herself that she would stop lashing out at her friends. Inhaling deeply to try and steady herself—to no avail—she opens her mouth to offer it yet another apology.
Glyph is only staring at her silently, shell twitching slowly without any indication of agitation or hurt, and the apology dies in her throat. She sniffs and blinks away the tears threatening to build up in her eyes as she stares back, not sure what to say and unable to guess what it’s thinking.
It looks away from her for a moment as though in deep thought. “Open your hand?”
The request catches her off guard. Frowning, she lifts her hand and holds it out in front of Glyph. A vision of Sundance briefly overlays Glyph’s white and blue shell, and she closes her eyes to force it away—they open again when a light, solid weight drops into her open palm.
It’s the Drifter’s jade coin.
“I can’t force you to stop playing Gambit, and I don’t know how to make things better or help you move on.” Glyph says quietly, open warmth and support through their odd bond accompanying the earnest look it’s giving her. “I don’t think Gambit or the Drifter have the answers you’re trying to find, but it seems like it’s at least helping to clear your head. I’ve got your back. No matter what.”
Her anger fades entirely, and she presses her lips into a thin line to fight back an equally powerful but opposite swell of emotion. She’s so tired of these ups and downs, but she’ll gladly take this softer melancholy over the restless fury. “I don’t deserve a friend like you. You know that, right?”
Glyph’s attitude lifts and it bobs once, shell spinning with cheer. “Yes, well, you’re stuck with me. So, deal with it.”
“I’d give you a hug right now if I could.” She laughs weakly.
“It’s the thought that counts,” it says, upbeat demeanor dimming slightly. “Just...try to let your team back in, okay? They’re all worried about you, like I am.”
The small smile that had made its way onto her face fades. Her eyes drop to the coin and she twists it between her fingers, trying and failing not to question the statement.
If they’re so worried about her, they certainly aren’t acting like it. Luke is as optimistic and cheerful as ever, Nyx hasn’t bothered to ask her how she’s doing, Nik is wary of her, she doesn’t expect Roland to change enough to ever feel comfortable checking on her state of being, and Kel had just lectured her.
They’re all carrying on as though nothing had changed after the Prison of Elders. Any initial upset they’d shown when Zavala had first put his foot down is gone. It’s like none of them care that Cayde’s killer is running around, well-deserved retribution and justice completely ignored.
Is she the only one that won’t shrug and put it behind her?
If they’re so worried about her but won’t do a damn thing to bring justice to Cayde’s murderers, then they’d damn well find a way to convince Zavala to allow her to join Petra in the hunt for Uldren and the Barons. She’ll do it alone.
The Vanguard hiding his death from the City is insult enough before letting his killers run free without consequence. Ikora had been right—refusing to do anything is nothing but cowardice.
She stops worrying the coin in her hand and pinches the edges between her thumb and index finger, lifting it up to the light and staring at it with her thoughts twisting. The Drifter had made an appearance in a dream that, until now, hasn’t changed since she’d first begun to have it.
Is something significant about that, or is she just a lost idiot desperately searching for more meaning to keep herself occupied? She’s not sure.
Curling her fingers around the coin, she stands. She’d like nothing more than to avoid going out into the Tower for the next week straight until the Festival ends, but just as it had when she’d gone hunting for the source of Gambit, her mind had fixated and she needs to get it out of her system.
Glyph blinks at her as she moves past it, following her out as she leaves the apartment behind and makes her way down the stairs to the exit. “Should I let Luke know you changed your mind?”
“No.” Her steps falter when she steps out of the block and a small breeze alerts her to how quickly winter is approaching—she had apparently slept all day, as well, the sun having already fallen and doing nothing for the rising chill.
The fact that the others had left to join the festivities should have been her first clue how many hours she had wasted asleep considering most Festival of the Lost events didn’t occur until later in the evening.
She adjusts her jacket and continues onward. “I don’t want to participate.”
“Then why—?” It blinks, then, when it realizes where her sudden energy and drive had come from, it flits ahead and keeps pace with her, floating backwards so it can stare. “You’re going to talk to him?”
“You said you weren’t going to stop me from doing it,” she points out.
Its facets retract around its eye in a sour look. “I said I couldn’t, not that I wasn’t going to try.”
“Why are you so sure I should be avoiding him?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” it replies dryly, slowing and flashing out of sight, ‘maybe because he runs an illicit activity without Consensus approval that can and probably has gotten guardians killed. You didn’t trust him when you first met him, why do you now?’
When had she ever said she trusts him?
The grouse remains a silent thought that she’s sure Glyph can still read within her, but she also has no answer for it.
At some point over the course of a few weeks and a handful of Gambit matches and short interactions, she had decided that—weird and smarmy attitude aside—the Drifter has no malicious intent. A bit detached from things he shouldn’t be, but she doesn’t get the sense that he’s got some kind of evil archvillain plot schemed up like Glyph seems to think he does.
It doesn’t press the issue when she remains silent, but it does leave a few pointed blips of clear disapproval in her head as she makes her way through the Tower towards Drifter’s hidden corner of the bazaar.
No one pays her any mind as she weaves through the crowd gathered for the Festival and ducks into the dark alley.
Drifter’s not in his usual spot when she arrives, and the doors that usually stand ajar behind him are closed. “Glyph, is he in there?”
‘We’re in a light-cloaking field.’ It replies flatly.
Her nose wrinkles. “You could tell he was a guardian when we first met him.”
A huff is its response. ‘No, he’s not in there.’
She knows he can’t be here all the time—unlike Shaxx, he doesn’t have 55-33 frames to monitor his matches. Still, he’s never been absent any other times she’s stopped by to check in for  match. Gee, she thinks to herself, tone deadpan even within her own head, it’s almost like he’s hiding from people.
Alright, so Glyph may have a point.
She leaves the alley, stopping when back out in the bazaar and looking around at the people, guardians and civilians alike, happily chatting with each other and horsing around under the influence of the event’s good cheer while masked figures run amok, occasionally stopping to trade candy or jokes with others.
She’s not sure what to do. Go look for the Drifter? He may be back on the Derelict and hosting another match of Gambit somewhere in the system for all she knows. She can return to the apartment and just go back to sleep, but she’d already slept for what had likely been more than ten hours.
Candles and multi-colored lights bathe the Tower and festival decorations in cheerful atmosphere. Eva Levante had once told her that the Festival of the Lost and the Dawning are meant to commemorate lost loved ones and lift spirits, a reminder to all that in the darkest of times, a smile and some cheer can make all the difference.
Everyone else seems infected with smiles and cheer. Quinn is not.
Glyph hadn’t finished its statement earlier, but she knows what it had been about to say—and she knows that it’s right. Cayde wouldn’t like seeing her mope like this, but she honestly can’t seem to find her good cheer.
If she was a moon, Cayde had been her sunlight.
“I was never fond of this particular holiday.”
She twists around, startled, and finds Ikora Rey standing next to her. The tails of her white and purple robes shift in the autumn breeze and her dark skin shimmers in the light of the festival decorations. She stands tall, her hands clasped behind her back and her dark eyes roving over the gathered, happy crowd with a muted kind of contentment.
“Perhaps it’s just me,” she continues, the words she speaks smooth and carefully selected as with nearly everything else about her, “but trying to pay respect to those lost with pranks and candy seems… irreverent. And we have lost so many this past year and a half.”
Quinn says nothing, standing next to the Warlock Vanguard and crossing her arms to ward off the chill.
A small smile appears on Ikora’s face. “But everyone honors death differently. This was Cayde’s favorite holiday. ‘Best way to honor someone is to keep smiling,’ he’d say.” She pauses, the smile turning impish. “The year before last, I believe he gave Eris a box of licorice, but it had celery inside instead. She didn’t think it was nearly as funny as he did, but then again he had been wearing a mask of her at the time.”
Her expression twists in bittersweet humor; she remembers him telling her about it. He’d been laughing uproariously as he recounted it to her and a few other hunters down at the Tipsy Sparrow. It hadn’t been that funny, but his joy over it had been infectious and they’d all been laughing, too.
Cayde had that effect on people.
And she’ll never hear his laughter again.
Swallowing thickly, she tips her head back to stare up at the lights strung around the higher levels of the Tower, pretending the sting in her eyes is from how bright they are. “Did you need something, Ikora?”
Ikora steps forward and turns so that she’s in Quinn’s line of sight, projecting authority that tells her it’s time to pay attention. “I’ve been made aware that you’ve been breaking lockdown to leave Earth.”
Quinn goes deathly still.
“Zavala has yet to find out.” There’s no threat in her stance or tone. Just cool, detached fact. “I won’t tell you not to disobey the Vanguard Commander’s direct order, but I want you to be aware that the Vanguard cannot offer you aid should your ventures off-world go beyond… what it is you’ve been up to.”
She looks away, but Quinn gets the feeling that she isn’t quite finished yet, so she stays quiet.
“I meant what I said when you and your fireteam returned from the Reef. Refusing to do anything about Cayde’s death is cowardice, plain and simple. I’m bound by my duty, but I want justice for him as much as you do.” She says, fixing her with a heavy look. “Should you choose to seek it out against clear orders, just know it will be without the support of the Vanguard and the City.”
In other words, Quinn would be completely on her own. She’d be going rogue, and if Uldren’s death brought with it the threat of war with the remnants of the Reefborn Awoken, she wouldn’t be offered refuge within the City’s walls ever again.
She’d figured as much already, but having it laid out so plainly… 
Unable to find words, Quinn simply offers Ikora a nod of acknowledgement.
Ikora returns it, her expression softening around the edges and her eyes turning contemplative. After a lengthy pause, the words she speaks are given with a melancholic, motherly tone. “Be careful of how far into your grief you fall, guardian. Some lines, when crossed...you can’t come back from them. There are those that will take offense and won’t care what your reasoning is for taking that step.”
Silently, she watches as Ikora steps away and disappears into the crowd.
Then her eyes blink wide and the crowd falls out of focus.
Should your ventures off-world go… beyond what it is you’ve been up to. Ikora’s words imply that she knows exactly what Quinn hasn’t been getting up to, despite the fact that she has no way of knowing that she isn’t high-tailing it to the Reef to hunt the Awoken Prince.
Does she have one of her Hidden assigned to her and reporting back?
“Glyph,” she speaks up quietly as her ghost flashes into sight, “have you noticed anyone following us lately?”
It blinks in confusion. “I don’t think so. Why?”
She doesn’t answer, her mind whirling with confusion. There’s no way what Ikora said could be mistaken—the Warlock Vanguard’s speech is always methodical and carefully constructed, even when steeped in emotion and not cold logic.
But if Ikora knows she’s been breaking Vanguard protocol and orders by bypassing her lockdown using another guardian’s ship, the question becomes: why hasn’t Zavala been made aware of it?
“Earth to guardian?” Glyph says, bobbing within her line of sight.
“Sorry, buddy. I’m…” She blinks her daze away and looks at it, but her mind is elsewhere. She needs to talk to the Drifter, still, but it’ll have to wait until she can find him. “Can you get in contact with Luke and find out where I can meet up with the others?”
Its shell spins with joy and it floats alongside her as she wanders into the crowd.
Whatever affirmative it gives her is lost as her focus dips out again, her sudden change in plans having less to do with how she feels about it and more to do with wanting something to pass the time while she sorts through her thoughts.
If Ikora knows about her leaving the planet, does she also know about the Drifter and his illicit competition? If she does, why hasn’t the Vanguard already put a stop to it?
There are those that will take offense and won’t care what your reasoning is for taking that step.
What is that warning even supposed to mean?
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cykragnostic · 6 years ago
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COSMOSITY ZETA REDACTULI .'. Dept . DRAGOMANRY \ KRITIK .'. ARXIVE Cent \ SYNTACTIC MONAD .'. TARJAMAAT.lang:Ualdani>Yakku.koine modulo 3rd.Uranic
[ Dept. of Dragomanry [ Reptiles' Required Reading - [R.W.P.Hwnerkamp]]]
+++ ATTN DOCENTS et al., mnemonic sequencing begins here:
Call the Amir the Cap'n: Zwawa Touareginald, comptroller of the blood of the house of Kha. Even though amir is the word in the primeval Clareloquence language for COMMANDER, one who commands; officer, administrator, & sooner or latter PRINCE sovereign ruler and supreme executive who does not need the noise of wearing "king." Very like Latin dux 'war leader, theatre commander in chief' -> duke, which was also very like a king, but not so in one's face. Military rank, position -> monarchical dictatorship, political and military power a type of inheritable property. The Cap'n is our amir, and never you mind that a commander with us is the Amir of smaller ships and less important missions!
Cap'n Zwawa held a book of the local style at arm's length, reading aloud in a hollow archaic chaunt. "...that polity, and the worlds of the star system of that polity, did however achieve a record, a wonder never recorded across the Terhumene diaspora: seven centuries, seven it was, seven were the centuries of respite before... COLLAPSE." The Amir vibrated the syllables of the baleful word like a sorceror invoking a fiend. "...And the record they did achieve was the... COLLAPSE... of their polity, and all the worlds of the star system of that polity, together with its peoples, and all their treasures, knowledges, and wisdom... COLLAPSED... together." He pivoted hips, torso and head to face the Dragoman directly again, and parenthesized, "A very shocking state of affairs, if true, but our Jaded chronicler is quite immune from shock -- shakes a doleful magisterial head and edifies us with an aphorism and a joke. Classical quotations, totally different style of orthography, or two styles? weird long word forms... you may take an full watch hermeneuticking each of 'em, Dragoman, and don't you pop in on me every twelve minutes with updates and ideas for active measures, hear me, Arxivist?" The Amir's smile flashed from the shadow of the azure hood and mantle of Burj Kha, letting the Dragoman know two or three capers each watch he would forgive, as being cunning strokes beyond the minds of mensch or machinic to sit on until change of watch.
"Certainly, Cap'n, quotations -- two quotations -- full watch per, and my clerks and droids to deal with the rest. Any departure from the narrative form is passing rare in the Chronicle, passing strange. A joke, my Amir? The Chronicler, and joking, is it now. It was not reduced to jokes and epigrams when that Flower of Parting xenodrome breached and killed a round two billion people inside a month, I believe. And yet, you know, the public speech of the Highest Jade oligarchs, the diplomats' conversation at table and the antiquarian one-upmanship that passes for parliamentary process, to say nothing of the manner of dialog in popular entertainment: sentimental declarations in the parlor, racy folk songs on the flight deck of the yacht--"
"I can well see it: the plucky comscan techs are both secretly oligarch brats slumming it to snub their families, and they make innuendo as they stick code cylinders into holes on their terminals."
"Just so. An aphorism, and a joke. I shall sit, as in respect for edification, and as precaution against the injuries of untimely hillarity."
"So," Cap'n Zwawa discarded the archaic singsong and went on,"'Never does a world Collapse, without it murders another.' Fair enough; nigh universally acknowledged, I believe. Going on: 'A witticism: The owner of a palace, its architect, and the chief builder watched the inspector of new construction. As the inspector climbed ladders and tapped walls, those inspected grew vexed with the prolongation of palpating and measuring.
"The architect knew the crack would appear because of discreet negotiations with the builder and with the mongers of metal and stucco, but had made piecemeal reinforcements as a salve to scruple.
"The chief builder had seen the crack, and ordered it concealed with paint, lest the architect discover the results of even more discreet negotiations.
"The owner of the palace did not have the means to finish paying the architect and builder, and had bribed the masons to discourage any gauchery on the part of their bosses, but meant to be taking the waters abroad when the next dispersal came due.
"The inspector despised the owner as a vain and showy arriviste, a rogue on the make ignorant of the douceur customary to an inspector of new buildings, without which there would be no vails for the masons. The inspector wondered if this would be a quick arriviste or a stupid one, and jabbed a probe into the crack.
"The crack opened instantly, down to the floor and up to the roof, and as the roof and the walls fell all about them, the architect cried out, "You fool! You've killed us all!"
[[ work in progress specifically to resume here, where I commenced writing. ]]
had nor wit nor stonesand the respite followed upon rockfall upon that planet, until the polity upon that to Collapse." Flimshaw! Poh! Okay, first, it wasn't a Collapse. It was bad, but not Collapse-bad, and second, this not-great-but-not-Collapse took seven hundred-odd of Highest Jade's long, long, tiresomely long orbits making for seven -- epocha, let's call them. I challenge you to tell me how much that is in real money without looking it up. I dare say a Jade century is exactly how long indifferent clever barbarians like Perpetual Secretary Shehnaz or I need to calculate it.
You & the Perpetual Secretary, maybe! What are the numbers? Yes, what ARE the numbers? Quick! Dragoman Ypse!
What, I'm right here. Uh, Captain.
Ypse bach, Ypseji, Terhumeneutics & Tactical Pragmatics specialist Ypse, Qorbin love...
No, Captain, we have no information on their calendrics, the charts they give us take no notice of the units of time such poor slobs as their trading partners and neighbors right here in the Lace use, their texts and discourse in general largely avoids quantifying time, names of days, months, or whatever their Short Great Year, Long Great Year, and Great Jade Years are, other than when certain spectacles and athletic events happen, and degrees of exaggeration when a shipment is late. How late? Shipping contracts specify due date, delivery time, variables, you would say. You would say that, Captain, you and Shehnaz-sama, but in the actual very fact, Highest Jade contracts do not specify time, they only penalize tardiness.
"The shippers and clients can both work out transit times. They understand their business, we're all in the where's-that-planet-now game, I believe. Just so, Captain bach, and as a pilot, or a former pilot, I should say, Captain, as an experienced observer of pilots and other personnel who do things like push buttons and read samples of Highest Jade legal documents in the Yakku language which is no biggie, written not in the Old Yakku figure, not in the Late Old, but in Early Late Old Yakku orthography..."
"I need one for my gre-gre-gre-grandam. This is just how she taught me to draw spiders and creepy crawlies, modulo if she'd taught me to draw very, very ill or intoxicated spiders. She's a cartoonist, you know, & shall laugh at all these sickly, stoned spiders cramming together in rows; with the blessing, and I don't fly us into a star."
"Take any of these. No, take this one: not only will she have her close-packed rack of bad trip bugs, she'll have all these fancy seals and painstakingly fancy signatures, because why? Because it is an historical document, and these people clutching their pens too hard and scattering these ink blots were historical too.
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