#oc x commander Zavala

[phantomwarrior12]

Discussion

A/N: Per request of the lovely @guardian-diana​!  I hope you enjoy, hon! <3

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They've talked this all out.

Around and around, searching for that thread that explains just why they cannot broach that last barrier.

Zavala's gaze is distant, fixated on a stack of datapads on his desk. Diana leans on the desk opposite him, propped against the sturdy metal as her gaze drifts along the room.

There are relics along the shelves. Fragments she recognizes from a lifetime long since past. Are they, too, in the past? A relic that cannot be preserved beneath the wear and tear of time? Their affections chipped away until it’s something like a memory they’ve clung to all this time?

He thought her dead, afterall. Another loss he could not prevent. Or perhaps he thinks of her absence now as a betrayal. An abandonment he truly did not deserve. She wonders the same thing; was she cruel to let him believe she’d died? To keep her distance and spare them both the complication of processing emotions long wrestled with?

“You came to discuss something else.” Commander Zavala begins softly, his voice holding a degree of uncertainty and dare she suggest, reluctance, as he leans forward. Elbows prop along the desktop as he folds his hands in front of him.

Diana’s head angles toward him, not quite daring enough to meet his gaze after such a lengthy discussion and yet, too forlorn as to not have him in her sight to some degree.

“I did.” She rises, pacing away a few steps toward the bookshelf closest to them. She reaches up, idly tracing a gloved finger along the lip of the shelf, “There were–”

Her voice falters when she senses him just behind her, his form impossibly close in such a large space. She hadn’t heard him rise, hadn’t noticed his footsteps until he was just behind her and her breath catches in her throat.

“Yes?” He questions gently, that same steady, resonating echo in his voice that she came to love all those years ago.

She clears her throat, forcing her focus back to the shelf, “There were reports of Fallen activity increasing in the EDZ. Devrim asked that I–" Her voice falters when Zavala moves to her side, forcing himself into her line of sight once more and she cannot veil the warmth that flashes in her eyes - nor does she want to.

"Whatever Devrim needs, the Vanguard can provide." He offers a gentle smile yet she can hear what he truly means.

Whatever you need, I'm here.

The instinct to take his hand, to step close and break that last barrier - it's almost overwhelming.

Instead, Diana inhales a slow, shaky breath and nods. "I'll need a fireteam," she somehow manages.

"Of course. I'll require a full debrief upon your return."

I want to see you again.

She nods, forcing a smile into place. "Yes, sir."

His head angles, a warm, amused sort of smile settling into place along his lips, "It is just the two of us here, Diana. Formalities aren't necessary."

"Commander–"

"Please," he interrupts gently, his smile faltering.

Some part of her insists she resist but his expression banishes that thought. She reaches out, grazing fingers along his gauntlet as she smiles, "Alright, Zavala."

There's a tension between them that seems to dissolve, faltering as the Commander works his fingers around hers and they share a smile.

It's a start.

Traveler, she wants it to be more but a start is all they can manage.

It takes a few moments for them to gather their wits about them and Diana has the sense to withdraw. Managing a farewell is harder than she'd like and she damn near backs toward the door as if Zavala would pounce if she turned her back. Yet, he remained where he was, smiling that gentle yet amused sort of smile she adores.

She doesn't hear much on her walk through the Tower. The fireteam meets her in the hanger and she forces her focus away from the Titan Vanguard.

They have a job to do now.

--------------------

He's at his desk - a new normal for him. Well, not as new as it is to her. So, there isn't a doubt in her mind that her Commander has neglected to find anything to eat at this hour.

Thankfully, she'd thought to stop at that ramen shop the Hunters speak so highly of - apparently it's open at all hours for Guardians - and she'd picked up something for the two of them.

The smell hits him first. A wafting scent of enticing sauce and meat that draws Zavala's gaze from his work.

There's a curiosity there, a confusion in his eyes until recognition dawns and he smiles.

"What–"

"I brought dinner," Diana supplies quickly, taking another few steps inside the office. "I thought you might be hungry and I just got back, so…" She holds it up hopefully with a smile that mirrors.

The Titan Vanguard's features soften, a warmth in his eyes as his head tilts. "That's very thoughtful."

She manages a sheepish shrug, gaze darting anywhere but to Zavala's features. "You often forgot to eat back then…some things never change, right?"

So many things she prays hasn't changed between them yet she can't bring herself to ask. But as Zavala rises, her mind snaps to and she moves to the couch, taking a seat quickly and starts to set out the food.

And then he's beside her.

Of course he'd have to sit next to her to reach the food. Of course he'd be within a few inches and his Light would flicker against her own - so familiar. It's comforting, in a way.

Nothing has changed, has it?

She still loves him.

Even with everything. His guilt over his family's loss. Her own guilt - she could never bring herself to ask him for something more. How could she ask him to let that go? How would that–

"Diana," his voice brushes the edge of her senses and sharp gold locks with vibrant blue.

She blinks, straightening her spine a fraction, "Yes?" It's a breathless whisper but he doesn't seem to mind.

He never minds, does he? Always so tender, so gentle with her that she often wonders if he thinks her delicate. As if he would somehow shatter her with a wrong word.

As she shattered him.

His hand settles over her own, drawing her mind from the depths of her guilt, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she forces out, diverting her gaze but Zavala's hold tightens around her hand.

It's steadying almost. Another warm, gentle familiarity she'd like nothing more than to get lost in. Even so, Diana adjusts her hand, fitting her palm against his with a glint of wonder in her eyes.

Zavala leans in slightly, lifting their hands to hold them against his chest. His heartbeat is, unsurprisingly, steady while hers races.

Diana manages a breathless laugh, gaze still fixated on that point of contact. Clinging to it. Anchoring her mind in that moment because if she doesn't, she may drown.

"It's…been awhile since–"

"I've missed it, too." Her Commander smiles, tracing his thumb along hers.

"I…missed you more." She manages, willing her focus to his eyes.

There she finds a degree of surprise.

She realizes that was brash, impulsive. Everything she usually isn't but - she cannot stomach going another lifetime without Zavala at her side. Without at least knowing where they stand.

"The nights in the fortress. Patrols. Fighting at your side, Zavala, I've missed it all. But most of all, you. Your presence. Your voice. That irritatingly endearing look you give me." Diana leans in, "I am…so very sorry for how I left. For leaving that wound bare and subjecting you to that torment. I–"

Zavala's hand lifts in a silencing gesture and Diana feels as though she can't breathe.

The once spacious office is now increasingly closing in around her, stealing the very air from her lungs while she remains taut with something akin to fear.

Not of rejection…not this time. But - that somehow, her Titan will not forgive her.

That would be a fate worse than death.

When Zavala squeezes her hand, when he lifts it to his lips and she registers a tender brush against her knuckles? She wonders if any of this is real.

It's a dream. It must be. Because he should be telling her to leave. That they are irreparable. That she has done the unthink–

Zavala's lips are warm against her own. Gentle, coaxing and it takes a moment but at last, Diana’s mind settles. At last, she reciprocates the caress and her Commander gathers her close.

An arm around her waist, their hands bound between chest plates an instant longer before she lifts trembling fingers. Until they brush up along his jawline, tracing once familiar skin with a tenderness she'd thought she'd lost.

Until Zavala angles his head and the very thought of pulling away sounds like an eventuality she never wants to come to pass.

The food is left forgotten for a few fleeting moments as memories crash to the forefront and they are lost to touch and passion and…dare she suggest, affection.

This is all she could have ever wanted.

I love you.

It's a broken record in her mind but words she will not utter just yet. Not until things are completely mended.

But for now?

For now, just having him close is enough to warm her heart. For now, his Light sparking against her own is a haven all its own.

For now, this is enough.

Because there is no question of where they stand now.

Because Zavala's voice reverberates through her and she cannot imagine words that would bring her more joy than those he utters.

"I'm here, Diana. I always have been and I always will be."

She responds with a firm embrace. Just until she can breathe properly again. Diana clings to her Titan and suddenly, there is no world beyond his embrace.

She doesn't need anything more anyway.

He is more than enough.

He always has been.

And always will be.

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[fireteam-survivor]

So I have gone through chapters 11-20 and edited them all, fixed formatting and spelling errors as well as ensured any details that were incorrect were changed. Rather happy to say it was not that many. But there have been a few changes, nothing major if you have already read all the chapters.

Also want to thank @dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd and @littleshebear because honestly if I hadn’t had your responses to the first chapter and those since I probably would not have continued this story and I have enjoyed writing it so much! So thanks!

[the-gunslock]

Amanda 1 - Forge

Alright, you all ain’t getting rid of me just yet... I still got some stories in store I want the world to see. This one is not about an anxious Warlock who likes Clint Eastwood... but rather, her partner in crime, our beloved, rough and tough Shipwright.

Amanda and Hiver went sightseeing after speaking to Petra in the Dreaming City. Even if she had another life to uncover, the human woman did her best efforts to reassure the Warlock that she is a wonderful person, and that it changed nothing of who she was now, and what she had done for the City and for her. After making sure her spirits were lifted, they part ways.

The shipwright sits at one of the safer rocks, away from the amount of enemies that plagued the lands around, whipping out her notebook. An idea rushed into her mind-- she couldn’t let it escape. Her lover’s words echoed in her ears.

“If someday I don’t come back, I want you two to take care of each other.”

The first piece was a reminder for Hiver that she belonged in the City. That she was a Stormcaller, that she was human first and foremost. That...

That she was unique. That she was Amanda’s safe space.

While she blushed and got entranced in thought, Hiver’s croquis and the information of the piece Amanda idealized were done. A duster, just like those in the pre-Golden Age western movies, they loved so much. But it had some add-ons that she thought Hiver was going to like.

Baby just designed her first Exotic!

She started sketching another one. A dirty little secret, she thought, grinning, as her pencil gave shape to the second humanoid figure on the paper.

Giving the finishing touches on the rough shape, making a mental note to finish it later, she puts her notebook away, looking at the horizon and sighing. Then she pulls her tablet, transmats into her jumpship, and starts typing a text message for when she arrived.

FROM: A. Holliday, Chief Shipwright

TO: Victor Crux; Feizel Lomar;

SUBJECT: Armor price estimation request.

The Titan’s fist wheezed near her face, so close that some of her burnt blonde hair strands were blown to the side from the gust of air it created. She manages to crouch under a second blow and launch a fist straight into the mighty man’s face, hitting him straight on the cheek.

“Well done, Holliday.” He complements. “You are learning fast.”

“Thank you, Commander.” She replies, wiping sweat off her face. “Can we take a break?”

He nods and they both sit in one of the gym’s benches, away from the mat they previously sparred on.

Commander Zavala was surprised, but pleased when his Ghost relayed Amanda’s message to him. It wasn’t one of her usual messages talking about parts for jumpships, budgeting or days off to spend with her girlfriend.

Rather, she asked for ‘sparring lessons’.

While he didn’t understand the meaning of such a sudden idea, he gladly agreed to help her. So, they set a schedule and place in one of the many training halls used to get Guardians to shape, or just when they want to show off.

Still didn’t explain why she decided to trade punches with one of the most notorious Titans in the history of the City. So, like his fighting style, he decided to be upfront about it. He looked at his protégé as she wiped her collarbone and neck with a towel.

“Holliday?”

“Sir?”

“Why did you ask for my assistance, so suddenly?” His stone-set expression betrayed some genuine curiosity. “Can you not count on Hiver to protect you?”

“That’s exactly why.”

“Hm.”

He took a swig from a water bottle, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Sure, she’s powerful, bein’ a Guardian and all, bein’ all ‘bout gunplay and Arc Light,” She makes exaggerated motions with her hands as she talks, specially finger guns. “But… we’re intelligent. And in that, I realized there may come a time where I can’t afford to be ‘protected’, or ‘saved’.”

Zavala listened intently, his memory calling back to those Lightless Guardians who died their final deaths during the Red War. Those he couldn’t save, even if he wanted to. And thus, he did not enjoy what was coming.

“If it does come, I want to be able to fight with her. Whether that means using mom’s shotty again, or killing stuff with one punch like you do. Or, even better… shielding my friends so no one would have to die.”

“Amanda.”

She knew exactly what came next. Amanda has had one lifetime. Zavala has had dozens, and in these dozens he had both found good things — and had a lot taken away from him. The prospect of losing his quasi-daughter to the Darkness’ brutal crusade weighed heavily on his mind, but he did his best to not let it show.

Didn’t work.

“I know, Zavala.”

She remembers, clear as sunrise, the day that the Red Legion laid siege to the City, and she had to fly through the biggest war she had ever witnessed, abandoning her home and its citizens to take Zavala to Titan.

Amanda’s tablet flickers its screen on. Crux/Lomar had just responded to her mail about her project. She had to remember to pay them later.

Her pride never recovered from abandoning everything she loved to save his and her own skin. So, next time that happens — if there ever is one — she wants to go out with a bang. In her own terms, beside the woman she loved, wielding the gun that saved her childhood, making her fellow Citizens and Guardians proud that someone else had joined the fight.

She wonders where Hiver was during that time.

Zavala snaps out of his own memories and notices her starting to get lost in thought, but they have a silent understanding. He smiles, rubbing a comforting, trusting hand on her back, and speaks his mind.

“Perhaps you’d make an excellent Guardian, Amanda.”

She smiles back.

“Let’s go another?” The shipwright proposes, cracking her hand bones and fantasizing about the next things she would do.

It is a dangerous path, but she treads it gladly.

Clearing her mind, they get into position as she raises her fists once more.

"PUT YOUR SOUL INTO IT, GUARDIAN!"

She was no Guardian, and was pretty unsure of how much soul she had left to put into it.

Not like that was going to stop the Titan's motivational booming anyway. Unlike Zavala, Shaxx personally made sure that training always got rougher, to the point one could barely discern it from real action.

Today, he had Amanda do rope climbing and swinging.

With weights on her torso, hands and feet.

She was doing well for the first routines, but made a slip on the seventh set, causing her to fall spectacularly on the soft foamy pads below. While recovering from the effort, the Shipwright did not expect to see Shaxx's hand hovering above her, offering help to rise up again.

"Thought you were all for bein' rough." She says as she grunts, making the heinous effort to get up, with his help.

"I am." He nods behind his helmet. "When needed. Being rough on the recruits does not mean I can't be generous to those in need." He starts taking the weights off the girl. "Part of being a Guardian, Amanda."

She makes a mental note of this. She had never thought of what makes a Guardian 'a Guardian'. From the stories she heard, the Traveler chose all kinds of people, from all backgrounds and all natures.

“How am I doing, Shaxx?” She asked, panting. He looked at her figure, her arms and trapezoids toned by years of mechanic work and her recent throwdowns with him and Zavala. But her most intriguing characteristics were her eyes, young but fierce, lit up a jeweled green with a newfound spark.

“You’d look much better with a sword.” He says, chuckling at his own joke. Amanda was bemused, but smiled to humor him anyway.

“Honestly? Let me just say that the Crucible would be a lot more interesting if those new Lights had half the force of will that you do.” He switches his tone to be gentler. It’s the way he has of conveying his honesty behind his helmet and many years of discipline. “We could have used someone like you in the City’s old battles, Amanda.”

“Thank ya.”

“However,” he shifts his once-positive speech into a firmer one. “I am sure Zavala has told you that, but remember. You have ONE life. Pick your battles. And when you do...” He pats her on the back. “Make sure you win, will you?”

She chuckles. “Of course.”

“Good.” He says, shifting to his usual ‘fists-in-waist’ posture. “That will be all for today. Those Crucible matches won’t oversee themselves.”

Amanda nods at him and picks up her bag with the training gear she’s been hoarding over the last weeks, ready to walk out and back home. Suddenly, an idea hits her. “Shaxx.”

“What is it?”

“Mind if I take you up on that sword offer?”

He lets out a booming laughter, proud to possibly have a disciple to pass his craftsmanship and tactics to. “Absolutely! Come by whenever!”

She gives him a thumbs-up and leaves the arena. On the way home, she checks her tablet and transfers the Glimmer to Crux/Lomar, eager for Hiver’s gift to be completed. She still needs to work on her “secret-project-she-doesn’t-have-a-name-for-yet” as well. While she enters Luminosity Heights, she ponders for a while, and opens up a new window on her tablet, patching through to “NS:L723”.

“I yearn for the day she’ll notice no one uses these numbers.”

Soon a streak of green appears on her screen, and her human companion turns to face her after talking to her Ghost. Apparently she is piloting her jumpship at the moment.

“Amanda? Wassup, what can I do ya for?”

“Hey Luna. Gotta little job for ya, if you’re interested. Just don’t tell Hiver yet.”

The Hunter looks to Frost, concerned but clearly interested in what Amanda had to say.

“I’m listening.”

[littleshebear]

Destiny Fanfiction: Truth

Some self-indulgent Dawning-related fluff I wrote last year but never posted for whatever reason. Here’s a dark age, kinderguardian Zavala learning about the power of myth and stories, then teaching those lessons back to a Guardian Sasha.  

Commander Zavala | OC: Sasha | Zavala x OC | Zavala x Sasha | Mutual Pining | The Dawning | Anxious Ghosts | Gratuitous story-telling

Crunch!

“What are you doing?” 

Crunch!

Zavala trails behind Sasha, watching her bunny-hop through the snow outside the gathering hall. He had recommended they leave when Sasha had reached for her knife after the tenth or so suggestion that they get a room. 

“It’s really satisfying,” she replies, jumping onto another patch of virgin snow. Crunch!  “You should try it.” 

“Is it calming you down?” He cocks his head, smiling at the incongruity of a woman who can snipe three Fallen Vandals in as many seconds, playing in the snow like a child. 

She turns to face him, grinning brilliantly. “I wasn’t actually going to stab anyone, you know.” There’s a series of gratifying crunches as she hops towards him. “You worry too much.”

“I’m never sure when you’re joking.” He hazards reaching out and brushing the back of his fingers against her chill-flushed cheek. She doesn’t flinch or pull away, a fact he finds infinitely more pleasing than the sound of freshly-trodden snow. “It’s cold, you should get inside.”

“No,” she protests, taking his hand in hers. “I’m not tired yet. Come on.” She leads him back towards the festivities but eschews the main hall. The normally sterile winter air is alive with the scent of woodsmoke and roasting meat. They weave through the crowds until they reach one of a few braziers dotted around a larger bonfire. There’s a group of people gathered around the open air fires listening to Matushka hold court. Sasha warms her hands over the flames and smiles up at him. “There. I won’t freeze to death, happy now?”

“I just worry.” 

“We already established that,” she says with a chuckle. “It’s endearing." He looks sceptical so she adds, "Really.”

He nods towards the old woman. She speaks with a clear, ringing voice, in a language he doesn't understand. “What is she saying?”

“She’s telling stories.” Sasha smiles softly, unmistakable pride creeping into her expression. “Matushka knows them all. We lost so much during the Collapse but alot of our legends made it. The Fallen could burn as many archives as they liked but you can’t burn down an oral tradition. So long as there are storytellers, the stories will survive.”

“Which story is this?”

Sasha takes a moment to translate. “How Lake Baikal came to be. Well, one version of it, there are a few.”

“I thought it was seismic activity?”

“No!" She gives him a playful smack on the arm, before hedging. "Well yes. But no. It's an old, old legend. I’m no Matushka but I’ll do my best. So, Old Man Baikal had three hundred and thirty six sons and one-”

“Busy man, this Baikal.” 

“Shh!” She gives him another light tap on the arm. “He had three hundred and thirty six sons and one daughter, Angara. She was said to be the most beautiful woman in the world, so Baikal became jealous and cruel. He locked her away and refused to let her see anyone. She spent her days in loneliness and misery, the birds where her only contact with the outside world.” She paused to listen to Matushka speak for a while, before continuing. “One day, the birds brought her news of a young man named Yenisei who had heard of her plight. The birds carried messages between them and they fell in love.”

“Birds can’t talk.”

“It’s a myth, Luchik, work with me here. Suspend your disbelief.” She sighs to compose herself. “So. Yenisei came to rescue Angara and they managed to escape Westward. When Baikal realised Angara had fled he became enraged. He picked up a massive boulder and threw it at the young lovers to try and stop them.” The lake is shrouded in darkness but she knows exactly in which direction to point. “The Shaman Stone, that’s the rock he threw. It sits at the source of the River…" She expands her palm outwards in a revelatory gesture, "Angara! When Baikal realised he’d lost his daughter he wept and wept until his tears formed the lake.” 

Sasha falls silent again and rests her head on his shoulder as she listens to the end of the story. “That’s how Lake Baikal and the Shaman Stone came to be. And that’s why three hundred and thirty six rivers flow into Lake Baikal and only one, the Angara, flows out and merges with the river Yenisei.”

There’s an outbreak of murmurs and discussion from the gathered crowd as Matushka finishes the story. Zavala says nothing for a time, he just gazes into the flames in front of them. “I don’t understand,” he says, eventually. 

“What’s not to understand?�� Sasha asks.

“Why do you still tell these stories? You know they’re not real. You know that these rivers and lakes happened because of tectonic plates, glaciers and what have you, not a possessive old man’s tears.” 

“Just because they’re not real, that doesn’t mean they’re not true.” She need not  to look at him to know that his brows are almost certainly knitting into a confused frown. “We don’t tell these stories because we literally believe them. They tell us things about ourselves. There are truths in myth.” 

“Very well, I’ll bite,” he says, putting his arm around her shoulders. “What’s the truth about an angry old lake spirit throwing rocks at his daughter and her lover?”

Sasha relaxes against him, drawing on his warmth as well as that of the fire. “Well, I think it tells you about what love really is.” Zavala holds his breath, hoping that she can’t feel how much he’s tensed up all of a sudden. “Yenisei loved Angara. He wanted her to be free but Baikal...” Sasha pauses, leaning into the embrace. “Baikal said he loved Angara, he claimed she was the most precious thing in the world to him but. Well, that’s just it. She was a thing to him. He kept her locked up like a jewel in a box. That’s not love. That’s possession. In trying to hold on to her, he lost her. Attachment like that, it’s…” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s not healthy. If you love someone, if you really love them, you have to be willing to let them go.”

Zavala closes his eyes and encircles her with his arms, as if to relieve her of the weight of the words she's just spoken. “You don’t need to do that, Sashenka. I meant what I said.”

She returns the hug, the way her fingers sink into the fur of his jerkin belying her words. “If you need to leave for the Traveler after the thaw, I won’t stop you.”

“I’m not leaving.” He plants a kiss on top of her head that seems to serve as a full stop. 

They stand in silence for a while, watching the fire and listening to voices that float over from the main gathering. Sasha eventually interrupts the quiet with a question. Zavala knows she’s trying to change the subject but he’s willing to let her. “Don’t you have stories? The Awoken, I mean. Aren’t there stories in the Reef, creation myths, tall tales?”

“There are, I guess but…” Zavala hedges. He guesses there are but he’s damned if he can remember any of them. “We left. Maybe our stories didn’t have enough truth to them.”

Sasha tips her head back to look up at him. “So make new ones.”

~*~*~*~*

“Zavala!” Izanami flitted around Zavala’s head like a gadfly, nudging his shoulder and purposefully blocking his view of his work. She wove left and right trying to lock his gaze with her optic. “It’s the first night of The Dawning, that’s enough now. You haven’t even looked at the Dawning Crystal, Ikora really outdid herself this year. The night shift is here. Everyone else has left, you’ve got no excuse...”

“The Dawning isn’t going anywhere, The Dawning can wait a few minutes while I finish up.” He replied, gently pushing her out of his way.

“We’re going to be late, Amanda will kill us.”

“First of all, we’re not going to be late and secondly Amanda will not-”

“She’s been working hard on this dinner, if we’re late she will literally kill us.”

Zavala pressed his lips into a thin line. “Literally? Words mean things, Izanami, you know I don’t like it when you do that.” The little AI’s shell was quivering with nervous energy. If he didn’t know that Ghosts didn’t eat, Zavala could swear she was hyped up on too much sugar from Dawning treats. Maybe it was psychosomatic? Could Ghosts pick up on the mood of over-excited humans? No matter, the root cause didn’t change the fact that she was actively delaying him rather than hurrying him along. 

“Let’s go!” She pleads, turning in an impatient pirouette.

“The more you pester, the longer this will take. You go on ahead, tell Amanda I will be there in twenty minutes.” He raises an eyebrow for emphasis. “Literally, twenty minutes.” 

“Fine.” His ghost turns to leave before abruptly turning back to face him. “But if you’re late and Amanda does kill you? I’m not rezzing you.”

“Thats a risk I shall have to take.” Zavala returned to his work with a wry shake of his head. It wasn’t just dotting i’s and crossing t’s in these missives to the Speaker. For his own peace of mind, he had to be sure the hand over to the Night Shift was properly handled and besides, there were Dawning-specific social niceties to think of. His conscience wouldn’t have allowed him to head off to a celebration without personally thanking each and every one of the staff who had volunteered to work over this festival. It was a selfless act and that was something that spoke to Zavala’s pride in his City like nothing else.

When he finally left, he decided to take a brief detour to take a look at the decorations around the Tower. As the Dawning Crystal hove into view when he ascended the steps to the plaza, he had to admit, Izanami was right. Ikora had outdone herself. A warm feeling bloomed in his chest as he took in the sight of the lanterns strung around the plaza and the snowfall filling in the footprints of raucous guardians armed with snowballs. He turned towards Traveler’s walk; the view from there during winter was always lovely and that area was less likely to be used as a snowball field of conflict. As he suspected, it was far quieter there. It was silent save for the sound of two feet jumping simultaneously into the snow over and over. He followed the sound to see who was making it.

Sashenka. No, he couldn’t call her that, not anymore. Hunter. Guardian. Those were the only appropriate names now. She was leaping, two feet together, from one unsullied patch of snow to another. She would occasionally pause to stamp down the snow into ice before moving on. He shouldn’t be there, he could practically hear his Ghost urging him to leave, telling him what a terrible, terrible idea it was to stay. Yet, there he was. Rooted to the spot, taking in every detail; How beautiful she looked bathed in the combination of lantern and Traveler light, the snowflakes settling on and standing out against her black hair, how similar she was to that woman he fell in love with centuries ago. How very discomfiting it was how often she challenged his assertion that Guardians were not the same people they were before they died. 

Sasha did a one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn. Her laugh when she stuck the landing was suddenly cut short when she saw Zavala watching her. She staggered to the side, spoiling the pattern of double footprints she’d left in the snow. She gave an awkward wave. 

“Evening, Commander.” 

Zavala responded with a respectful nod and crossed over to her. “Hunter. Enjoying your first Dawning?”

She shrugged and nodded a little too vigorously. “Uhm. Yes?”

He frowned at how unconvinced she sounded. “No plans for tonight?”

“My friends are having a party.”

“Your friends.” He held her gaze. “But not you.”

She exhaled slowly and seemed to deflate. “I’m just not feeling it.” The lines on Zavala's forehead deepened, signalling a demand for an explanation. “It’s not a real festival. It’s all made up.”

“Not real?” 

“It’s cherry-picked. It’s a hodge-podge of different cultures.” She bowed her head and looked up at him through apologetic eyelashes. “It seems fake to me.”

Zavala brushed some snow off a nearby bench and gestured for her to sit. 

“Did I say something wrong?” She asked, sinking down, her shoulders hunched up as far as they’ll go.

“No,” he said,settling on the bench beside her. “Just consider the possibility that just because something isn’t real, that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” He paused to let her respond but her only answer  was knotted brows, so he continued. “Rites, rituals, festivals. They give structure and meaning to our lives. You don’t have to believe in the reality of the Dawning to believe in the truth of the message behind it.”

“Which is?” 

“How did you feel when you were first resurrected?”

“Scared. Lonely, I guess. Doesn’t everyone feel that way at first?”

“At first, yes. Being awoken, alone, without even the memory of who you once were to keep you company is a hard thing to bear. I know I felt adrift, with only my Ghost to keep me right.”

Sasha shook her head ruefully. “It’s hard to imagine you as a confused kinderguardian. You’re so-”

“- Choose your next words carefully,” he deadpanned.

“Stolid.” She grinned up at him, waiting for his reaction.

“All right. That’s an acceptable description.”

“Well I’m relieved, Commander,” she said, through soft laughter. “But what does this have to do with the Dawning?”

He smiled, allowing himself a modicum of pride in the fact that he can still make her laugh, stolid as he is. “I was scared, yes, lonely too but I found people. Made friends, formed connections. The same goes for the refugees who came to the Traveler and founded the City. The collapse was culturally devastating, so much was destroyed; Histories, languages, communities. We lost our stories, we lost those things that teach us about the world we live in. So we salvaged what we could and made new stories. We took what was true, what mattered and made new festivals to preserve them. We survived. We joined together and were stronger for it. We rebuilt. We are the light in the Darkness. That’s the story the Dawning tells. That’s what it’s for. So yes, it’s constructed. Made up, if you will.” 

“But it’s true. It's the City's truth. I get it.” She gave him a sly, sidelong glance.“So it’s not just about cookies and presents?”

“Well, no. A big part of the Dawning is about celebrating family and friendship. Cookies and presents help with that, I suppose. So go. Be with your friends. Eat drink, be merry, for tomorrow we fight.”

Sasha rose and vigorously shook her head, theatrically ridding her hair of the snowflakes that had settled there. “Wait.” She smoothed her hair out of her face and looked intently down at him. “You’re by yourself. Do you have somewhere to be? You can’t be spending the Dawning alone, not after that speech you just gave me.”

“I have somewhere to be,” He reassured her as he got to his feet.

“Oh. Well. Good.” She seemed relieved and perhaps a little disappointed too. Zavala couldn’t be sure but he wondered if she’d started forming an invitation in her head. He decided that was just egotistical wishful thinking on his part. It was safer that way. 

“Happy Dawning, Guardian,” he said with a respectful nod.

“You too, Commander.” She pivoted her foot as if turning to leave but the rest of her body didn’t follow suit. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

“You always know what to say.” She shrugged, as though that were completely obvious.

“I’ve had some very good teachers.” 

If Sasha were intimidated by the intensity of his gaze, she didn’t show it. She stared back at him for a not uncomfortable couple of seconds before finally blinking several times and looking away. She drew up her hood with a sheepish smile and a mumbled, “G’night.”

Zavala didn’t move. He watched her make her way down the path, waiting, hoping for her to grace him with another glance in his direction. Amanda Holliday’s amused drawl over his comm unit eventually distracted him from his vigil. 

“So your Ghost wanted me to tell you that you’re officially late, Commander.” 

“Are you going to kill me? She was at pains to tell me you would literally kill me if I were late.”

“Nah, you’re fine,” she explained. “You’re officially late, not Zavala-late.”

“What is Zavala-late?” he started ambling down the path once Sasha was finally out of sight.

“Half an hour after the official starting time. That lets you squeeze in all those one last, one last things you always have to get done before you leave work. So you’d better get down here before your Ghost has a nervous breakdown.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll see you soon.” He turned off his comm unit and halted where the path met a patch of snow-covered grass, deciding that he had one last, one last thing to do before he went to dinner. He regarded the pristine, gleaming expanse of white with a serious expression. He glanced around furtively, looking to make sure no one else had entered Traveler’s Walk. When he was sufficiently satisfied that he was alone, he put his feet together and bunny-hopped forwards onto the snow, chuckling softly to himself. 

[thedistantstorm]

Day 16: “Listen. No, really listen.”

Fandom: Destiny

Pairing: Zavala/Female Guardian

Warnings: PTSD, self-harm, canon-typical violence

-/

The door is locked when he enters. His Ghost works the mechanism for him with ease.

"That's funny," Adelaide, his Ghost informs him, "Miyu never locks the door. Maybe she's not home yet? She could be with Lilith-"

Zavala holds up a finger to silence her. "Do you hear that?"

She turns in the direction he's facing but does not run more than a preliminary scan. Quieter, she admits, "No, I don't."

"Listen." Adelaide shrugs her fins. "No, really listen."

Finally, she does. "It sounds like… scrubbing, almost? But, she's not doing dishes." They're in the entryway, leading to the kitchen. They can see the sink from there, no Miyu in front of it.

"Tamashii."

No answer. Guardian and Ghost share a look of concern. Zavala walks nearly silent through their flat, taking care to make sure his feet on the hardwood make some sound as he approaches.

It's not scrubbing that they heard. It's scratching.

The water is running in the washroom, some of it pink with blood. Miyu, his gentle, sweet Miyu is clawing at her arms, as if to flay off the skin there. Her Light glows bright across the damaged skin, but not to heal, as if she's trying to burn herself from the inside out.

Zavala swallows hard. "Oh, Miyu," He rumbles sadly, reaching for her.

The Warlock shrinks away, frustrated, terrified tears pouring down her face. "I can-" She scores her skin once more. "I can feel it. The Dark. It's on me and it won't go away."

Of course. She's spent the last three days in and around the Hellmouth. It lingers, Eris and Ikora say. Like a toxic miasma, or an aura, a shadow eclipsing the Light itself, clinging to her. He can feel it like an unpleasant tingle, but it's not like contagion, and not terribly strong. This lingering essence seems interested only in the party that has contracted it.

Naturally, there's a psychological aspect to it, too. These nightmares making what would normally be manageable for their kind into an insurmountable situation. Little rest, high stress, revisiting old traumas… Guardians may be immortal, but they retain their humanity. He cannot stress it enough. They endure so much, and yet they keep on. The cost to their mental health? It shows. Humans are not meant to live as long as they do, Light or not. And sometimes, all the coping mechanisms in the world don't make a speck of difference against the occult. Not alone.

"Miyu, stop," He urges, softly, taking care not to make her feel trapped. The washroom is small but he slides behind and around her, so that the door is not blocked off.

"I'm sorry," She says, fingers shaking, bloodied, as she pulls them away from her arms. "I just, I can't-"

"It's okay," He says, holding his arms open once more. "Come here."

"I can't," She shakes her head, voice rising in volume thanks to her frustration. "I have to get it off and it's not-!" Miyu slams her palms against the sink, not hard enough to break it, but the pipework rattles and blood spatters. It has to hurt, but she's already crying and carrying on, it likely doesn't make much difference. "I have to get it off me. I have to. I have to," She repeats, and the clawing begins again. Her Light surges but seems repelled, her internalization of her suffering doing her no favors.

Zavala cannot bear to watch. She'll shred herself to the bone at this rate, compelled to obsess over the obstruction of her Light by this cloying abyss. He wordlessly instructs Adelaide to report this behavior to Ikora. Certainly Miyu cannot be the only one suffering in such a way. Countless Guardians have been to Luna since the Hive began making their presence known.

When she begins bashing her wrists against the countertop he's forced to intervene, reaching from behind and pulling her arms away from her, hands wrapped around her blood-slicked wrists.

"Stop," He commands, but it's less authoritative. More frightened. She's frantically jerking her arms against his hold, trying to get free.

"Don't touch it," She begs. "I don't want it to get to you, too. I have to get it off of me and nothing is-"

"Miyu."

She still fights him, trying to pull away, even though it only hurts her more. She'll break her own arms trying to get free of him, he realizes. This obsessive behavior is sure to come with paranoia.

"I'm not strong enough," She sobs, pulsing with golden Light. "I can't burn it away and I have to. I have to make it stop. It feels like it's spreading-" It isn't, it's in her head. Most of this is in her head. He needs her to calm down, she's not being rational.

"Let me help you," He murmurs, voice low and soft, his cheek pressed against her hair. "Please."

"But-"

"Onegaishimasu, Beloved. Please. Allow me."

Miyu stops trying to resist his hold, looking at her arms and hands like they need to be removed from her being.

"Can Tamashii heal you?"

"I sent him away until everything was fixed. I don't want-" She chokes on a sob, "I don't want him to see me like this."

"Come out," Zavala says gaze pointed at the doorway. "I know you haven't gone far." She gasps through more sobs when her skittish companion hovers through the door, wilting at the damage she inflicted upon herself, but Zavala molds himself to her back, his voice a soothing rumble. "He's your partner. He wouldn't leave you, even if you asked him to." Blue eyes look up at the cyan optic. "Right?"

"Right," Tamashii agrees, voice dimmed by sadness. "Even if-"

Zavala nods. "I know," He says soothingly when they both flinch, Guardian and Ghost like two halves of the same soul. The physical injuries her Ghost can heal. The rest may very well remain in her mind regardless of his intervention. "It will be alright."

Red and white fins spin as he works, Miyu trembling while Tamashii casts beams of sweeping, healing Light over her wounds.

"That's all of it," He tells Zavala, and Miyu whimpers. "All that I can get," He revises.

"Thank you." Zavala casts him a gaze that says he'll handle the rest, and the Ghost disappears into a motes of Light.

"Am I crazy? I know things are-" She turns her head, red-rimmed eyes watching him. "They're making us all afraid and I-"

Zavala shushes her, wrapping his arms around her middle, careful to keep her hands at her side. "No. You are not crazy."

"Eris said she could smell it on me," Miyu admits, terrified. "I don't want it on me."

"Did you-"

"Three times," She takes a gulp of air. The shower stall is still wet, and he’s certain she’s scrubbed herself raw beneath her clothes. "Didn't help."

"Okay." He brings his hands to cover hers when they twitch. She's panicking, he knows the signs of a panic attack coming on. He needs to move her now, tangling together on the tiled floor is certainly not comfortable. "Let's sit down in the living room," He instructs.

"On... the couch?"

Zavala shakes his head. He sits with his back against the bottom part of it instead, and motions for her to sit on the floor between his parted legs, so that her back is to his front. She sits like an animal in a cage, slumped forward. He watches her scratch her left arm idly and reaches for her fingers lest she redo the damage that's been undone.

"Lean on me," He instructs. "It's alright. I've got you."

"I don't-"

He pulls her back against him, but doesn't force her still. She clenches her fists, trying to keep the afflicted parts of herself away from him."Trust me, please. I'm going to make it better."

"How?"

An inhale, deep, and disciplined is followed by a controlled exhale, Zavala repeating this several times. She doesn't have to look to know his eyes are closed; His forehead is pressed to her shoulder.

He is a rock. Grounding, centering. Or at least, he would be, if this weren't so disturbing to her. Instead, in the space between his breaths, he feels her panic and paranoia, and the urge to gather her up tightly against him. But she needs to see. To feel. To know.

It starts as a spark. A single strike of flint and steel inside his belly, before he allows it to curl outward.

"Did you know," Zavala begins, when her breath catches in her throat as it hits her, what he's doing, "That I am the only Vanguard mentor capable of wielding all three ability types?"

He lifts his hands from his thighs and holds them out, palms up, in front of her. His flame is a deeper, molten orange. Not sunny and yellow-white, like hers. Earthy and unwavering, like an eternal pilot light. A beacon.

Miyu shakes her head, breathing sharply in disbelief. Never, in all their time together, has he displayed this power to her. To anyone.

"Give me your hands, Anata," He murmurs against her ear. "Let me help."

The warmth he generates is unusual - with him, the Void is like mineral water and brisk, blessed clarity - but she feels emotion ensnared within these flames. This is sensual. Close. An extension of the soul, bright and kind and so very precious for him to be sharing.

She can't help but feel drawn to it, enchanted by it all around her. It feels like she's burning but it doesn't hurt, like it's her own Light, but it's not. It's patient and gentle, healing in a way hers could only hope to be.

Miyu's shaking fingertips brush his palms and she flinches, the prickling numbness of the latent Dark upon her desperately trying to retain feeling like pain until she presses her hands more firmly into his. He knows what he’s doing. Of course he does. He does not boast about it, but he is so much more versed in how to foster and protect one’s Light than he lets on.

"The Hive's magic is seeped in death, sorrow, and despair. They revel in our suffering," He reminds her, when she relaxes, finally, finally feeling like she's no longer under the malignant influence of the Hive. Her breaths still come fast, and thus he pulls their hands together, in a sort of pile across her lap. "We will defeat them with the opposite. Our Light will not waver. Not so long as we continue to celebrate life, find joy even in our darkest moments, and foster love."

She brings her knees up and leans to the side, curling up in the sanctuary of his embrace. It takes a long time for her breaths to even out, especially since she's still weeping, but he continues to manifest solar light, soothing her to her to the core.

It is not lost on him that her head stays pressed against his heartbeat, that her fingertips follow the patterns of aura across her fingers. Subconscious, half-aware gestures, a come-down from such a high-stress state. He’d expected as much, had seen it plenty of times before. After a long, long while, he hums in a wordless question and her arms come up and around his neck easily, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss as her Light -  angelic and reverent - washes over him in grateful praise.

“Thank you,” Miyu whispers against his lips, achingly fragile. She’s still unsteady when they rise together, but her eyes are clear. It will take a while to recenter herself, but he’ll be there the whole time.

[shaken-veil]

Happy Birthday @distant--storm. I made a small sketch of her Warlock Bean and Zavala... on his favorite spot..hehe... I hope you have an amazing day sweetie <3

[house-of-kells]

Regrets & Revelations

Part  1: Running with the Wrong Crew

Post Forsaken | Hurt and Comfort | Slight Angst | Redemption

Nine heaved a small sigh as she dangled her legs off of the maintenance scaffolding within the tower hangar, staring at the small, ovular coin resting in her hand, her synthetic eyes tracing over the gambit insignia engraved over the front.  two snakes, warring infinitely but inseparable from each other, a battle she now felt intimately. the drifter, someone she considered an... acquaintance, even looked up to perhaps, had offered her a chance to join his crew, and she had accepted, a spur of the moment decision really, but now, after hearing his stance, his opinions on ghosts, the traveler, the city, she was reviled.  Nine had thought of the drifter as some warrior, one of the warlords of the dark age, brimming with unbridled power, but she had been wrong.  he was nothing but a two-bit coward.

rising to her feet, she continued to glare down at the coin in her hand, before closing her fingers into a fist and throwing the coin out into the open air with a grunt, watching its green surface twinkle and shine as it descended out of sight into the city below.  after the coin had vanished, Nine let her legs give way, dropped her back heavily onto the steel grating beneath her.  her ghost, sol, shimmered into existence just above her shoulder, after the red war, it had gone into a vow of silence for the guardians lost in their fight, and had kept that vow adamantly.  reaching up slightly, Nine ran her hand across Sol’s smooth shell, picking and pulling slightly at the seams where the shell folded across itself, while sol tried to rotate it’s shell to keep the seams away, a small, simple game the two of them had made up to pass long, sleepless nights in the wilds.

while her fingers danced across sol’s shell, Nine allowed her mind to wander away, to what it would have been like should she have selected the vanguard, an option that felt more and more enticing by the second, she would have happily gone to Zavala, Ikora, Cayde’s picture, proudly showing off that she supported them.  she wouldn't have really done those things, but it was a pleasant thought.  

“Guardian?” 

Nine nearly jumped out of her skin, her artificial heart kicking itself into overdrive while her eyes ripped themselves off of the city, focusing on the vanguard commander standing nearby, she had been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard his approach, she scrambled to get up before the commander raised his hand in a calming motion. “I’m sorry guardian, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Nine nodded, sinking back down to the floor. “I don’t believe we’ve met properly.” the commander continued. “do you come to the tower often?” 

Nine shook her head no. “I’m out in the wilds most of the time, keeping tabs on the fallen movement near the EDZ most of the time now.” she probably didn’t need to say where she’d been, but she needed to say something, simply nodding or shaking her head would be an insult to the commander. Zavala took a step closer. “Is everything alright hunter?”  a simple question, but to Nine, it felt as though she were standing at the edge of a bottomless hole, afraid of what she might find at the bottom, if there was one.  

steeling her nerves, Nine shook her head. “No...” she didnt elaborate, better to be cautious than to give out everything at once.  her caution was rewarded by zavala taking another step forward. “Do you mind?” he asked patiently, gesturing to the floor next to her.  Nine shook her head, and mover her hand aside, allowing the commander to sit on the floor next to her, after getting comfortable, the commander gestured to her, offering her the chance to continue. 

taking a deep breath, Nine began. “I was offered a choice yesterday, by the drifter.”  she paused, waiting for his reaction; to his credit, he simply nodded.  “And?” he asked, patiently awaiting her response. “And I chose to side with him, I thought he was right, that a second collapse was coming, and I...” she paused, the familiar feeling of phantom tears welling in her eyes.  “And I panicked.  didn’t trust the vanguard to be able to do the unspeakable should the worst come to worst.”  she paused, glaring down at her hands. “The Unspeakable?” Zavala asked, she felt as though he knew already, but was making her say it. 

“Kill other Guardians...” it was a horrified whisper, her throat filling with the taste of bile, her absolute disgust in herself boiling over.  to his credit, zavala remained calm, reaching out and pressing a reassuring hand against the hunter’s shoulder.  “but now I regret that decision.” Nine continued, pushing past her intense feelings of vulnerability. “I want to support you, and Ikora.  I want to do justice to Cayde’s memory.” she paused, searching for the right words.  “I want to be a guardian.” 

Zavala’s hand stayed on her shoulder.  “Some of us walk the path of justice long before we encounter adversity, but there are others who have to see the vile side of humanity before choosing their path.” his voice was calm, confident, reassuring. “It doesn't make them wrong, or evil, simply unsure of themselves.”

Nine felt her nerves calm, and worked up enough courage to look the commander in the eye. “Even though I’m in the drifters crew.” she said, straining to keep her voice strong. “I’ll never be like him.  I don’t want to run and hide, while others die in my place.  I want to keep others safe.” Zavala gave her a kind smile, before rising and offering an outstretched hand.  Nine placed her hand into his, and with his assistance, rose to her feet. “and that want.” Zavala said “is what makes you a guardian.”  Nine nodded. “Ill try my hardest sir.” she said, giving him a traditional hunter’s salute. he right hand curling into a fist and placing itself atop her chestplate, directly over her heart, as she bowed her head. 

“I’m sure you will.” Said Zavala, and Nine felt her chest swell with excitement.  as Zavala strode away, Nine called after him. “I’ll see you starside sir!” he responded by waving to her as he turned to go down the stairs, a gesture Nine returned shyly, unused to being so forthright in her goodbyes, but there was something about Zavala that allowed her to speak very easily, she wondered why she hadn’t noticed it earlier, perhaps she had never really gotten a chance to talk to him, she’d have to try again sometime

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

He smol but he means it. For @littleshebear

[a-heart-in-spades]

a heart in spades

Pairing : Cayde-6 x Female Human OC Guardian Rating : M (eventually explicit) 18+ only, Minors do not interact! Word count : 965 Warnings : Angst, Slow-burn, Canon typical violence, Heavy language, Romance A/N : It’s been a long while since I’ve written anything solo. This is purely self-indulgent, not beta read, with minor editing/drafting.

Confidence was something that Cayde-6 could wear like a seamless mask. A carefree attitude mixed with jokes that he never failed to hand out at the most inappropriate times, and it was always a tough decision whether to laugh, or cringe, in those moments. But he never failed to make light of a serious moment to break the tension, to keep people from falling into that spiral of negativity.

So, when it was his turn to slide, no...tumble down that hole of despair, that mask fell, cracking as it hit the floor. It shattered, and everyone could hear it for miles, echoing off the lips of passersby, carried by the wind through the streets.

Six months had ticked by, time had slowed to a creep as the Red Legion kept its hold on Earth. The tower was still a mess of rubble that littered the streets of the Last City. Memories of a second golden age were nothing but debris under the heavy boots of Cabal foot soldiers that patrolled the once-safe inner sanctum of the Traveler's shadow. It had taken a dedicated and ballsy entourage of fireteams to breach the walls and take back what was rightfully theirs from Ghaul and his army. Lives had been lost before and during this battle until Ghaul had been turned to dust in the wind by the giant ball himself.

Even with the sun free from Ghaul's Almighty, the Traveler released from its light-siphoning cage, those lost lives weren't coming back. There was no amount of humor that could ease the pain the shattered fireteams felt. Guardians clutched the shells of their Ghosts close to their chests. Graves had been marked along the trail that many guardians took on their way out of the city.

At least for those whose bodies and Ghosts had been recovered.

Cayde couldn't cut down the stalks of guilt that threatened to engulf him. It was his people that had suffered the most loss. Many Hunters hadn't returned from their patrols, out there in the wilds, alone and oblivious as to why their light had so suddenly been ripped from them. They had been out there on his orders, his command.

Somewhere in the hangar, the echo of metal clattering to the ground followed by a disgruntled groan barely registered in Cayde's mind. It was too full of all the faces he had yet to see come back after their return to the city. One hunter, in particular, kept circling back around. He had been there when they were risen by their Ghost. He watched them grow from a clumsy, unsure guardian into one of his best Hunters. Knowing that they hadn't returned yet meant one thing and one thing only. That scared the absolute shit out of Cayde.

❝Hey, big guy. You lost in your head again?❞ The sweet southern drawl from the mechanic was just barely enough to yank Cayde from the confines of his thoughts.

❝What? No, of course not. I was just letting my eyes rest.❞ Cayde scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he lifted his eyes to the blonde.

❝Mhm...So I finished that project you asked of me. What do you need a ride like that for anyway? Planning on running from Zavala?❞ Watching the quirk of her eyes, Cayde knew he was in deep shit. If Amanda hadn't already told Zavala that Cayde had her working on the fastest speeder she could, she would soon.

❝Amanda. Manda. Mandy. You know I would never do such a thing. I thought you knew me better than that. It's not Zavala I'm worried about anyway. It's Ikora. It can go faster than anything she has, right?❞ A hint of panic dripped into his words at the last moment. Ikora was the one that scared Cayde the most. She was as serious as they came, never laughing at a single joke he cracked. Though there was one time, he thought he saw her crack a smile.

❝'Course. But you never answered my question. What do you need it for, Cayde?❞ There was a more stern suspicion in her eyes now than before, something she accentuated by crossing her arms over her chest.

❝Oh, you know, fresh air, some off-world racing for glimmer. The usual.❞ Averting his gaze, Cayde prayed she didn't read him like a book, something she'd always been able to do.

❝You're going to go looking for her, aren't you?❞ He wasn't sure what the tone in her voice was now, maybe realization mixed with disappointment? His jaw tightened as the lights in his head dimmed. ❝Cayde...❞ His name was spoken despondently. ❝You scoured that place for weeks and found nothing. It's been months. You know I'm all for holding onto hope, but she ain't coming ba-❞

❝Don't.❞ It was one word, spoken with such vehemence, that Cayde heard Amanda's teeth clack together before she could finish her sentence. ❝Don't. Please.❞ He couldn't keep up that facade anymore, not when the subject came to her. No matter how long it had been, no matter how long there had been no word from her, he couldn't give up looking. Not until the gears in his joints rusted and turned to dust. Not until the last fabricated breath left his figurative lungs. He'd never stop looking. ❝It's what she deserves.❞ Even if it was just her body that he found, she deserved to come home. ❝I have to bring her home.❞ The tremble to his words had him clearing his throat and pushing away from the support beam he had been leaning against.

❝Cayde, wait.❞ Amanda called out to his back, a plea that he ignored.

❝Sundance, get me on my ship.❞

[starl1ght-child]

Enthralled

Rezyl Azzir x F!Non-Guardian OC

(FINAL) Chapter 15 : Renege [ WC 1.6K ]

masterlist

Rezyl’s head was constantly splitting as of late, the only relief for it he ever found was when he was in the field, with his Rose in his hand.  It made it impossible to think or focus.

Even still, he was trying to do better for Rilea.  He was trying so hard to keep all of the promises he had made.  He came home to her every night, he laid with her until she fell asleep and comforted her through her nightmares, which became more frequent during the following weeks.  He would get up at night and sit in a chair by the bed, still unable to sleep.  He would watch her rest and started to learn the signs for when she was having a nightmare so he would wake her before the worst of it forced her out of sleep.  Most of the time, he could find peace in the calm on her sleeping face.  Occasionally, she would smile while she slept.  He prayed to see that smile every night, because it meant her dreams were good.

Every now and then she would flinch when he went to touch her.  The guilt he felt for what he’d done would never go away.  He didn’t know what had come over him that day.  But ever since that day, he noticed he was losing time.  Especially out in the field.  He’d been losing time for a while now.  Even his Ghost had commented once that he seemed distant when they were out on patrol.  Like his mind was elsewhere, or not even there at all.  He wasn’t like himself.  His Ghost can account for everything, but Rezyl can’t.  It was enough to drive him close to insanity that he couldn’t make up for this missed time by himself.

On top of everything, Rezyl was more frustrated than ever with the Consensus.  The Concordat faction had tried to overthrow the Speaker and the Consensus in a coup a few weeks past, but they were brought down by New Monarchy.  It was like the Faction Wars all over again.  

There was one thing he was starting to realize:  there would never be true peace so long as there were people in power, grabbing for more, laying waste to everyone below them.  There was no point in fighting for it by killing Fallen or Hive to keep the Last City safe if the unrest was coming from the inside.

Occasionally, he would fall asleep beside Rilea or in his chair.  It was a rare occurrence, but whenever sleep found him, it was never restful.  Most nights lately he dreamed of a dark figure dancing in the distance, singing a violent tune that was achingly familiar.  He was frozen in place in the dark, restricted.  Caged.  The song slowly grew louder as she came closer to him.  He would force himself awake before she got too close.  Those nights he would slip out of bed and sit by the window, quiet and pondering, his eyes shifting between the lights of the City and his love who still slept in bed.

These dreams forced him into insomnia.  And the longer he went without sleeping, the harder it was to force himself awake.

He’d been awake for twenty-three days now.  Twenty-three dreadful, exhausting days.  He slipped into sleep unknowingly while he was keeping watch over his partner.  When he opened his eyes, he was in the dark ebony halls of the Hellmouth, frozen on his knees, restricted.  Caged, just like every dream before.  Bound by invisible chains.  An orange lamp covered in thorn-like spines hung high above him, barely casting any light on the floor he knelt on.  His eyes focused in the dark.  At first everything was silent.  Then whispers in the distance, an ethereal figure in the distance.  Then the song that split his skull and made his ears ring.  Rezyl writhed and struggled against the chains, but he found no strength in his muscles this time to break free.  His ears bled as the figure approached, her cruel voice growing louder.  The bone chilling tune started to take shape as she got closer. 

He was so tired that he couldn’t force himself awake.  He slumped down on the ebon floors and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out everything, to shut his mind off from the song.

“My Champion…”  

Rezyl’s eyes opened at the sound of her voice.  His blood turned to ice in his veins.  

He was forced to look up at the demon witch that hovered over him when a clawed finger lifted his chin.  Xyor, the demon witch whose consort he killed, floated above him, three eyes peering deep into his soul.  His jaw clenched.

“I am not your champion,” he growled.  

The demon woman’s head tilted.  Her voice was angry and cruel when she spoke again.  He flinched as her claw dug into his skin. “You have shown your devotion in bones and paid your price with blood.”  Her entire hand moved and she cupped his chin and her fingers dug into his cheeks. 

His eyes widened and fear made any color he had left drain from his face.  His Rose.  He felt a painful burn starting to release from the witch’s palm and he writhed in pain as tears leaked onto his cheeks.

“It’s time for you to come home and fulfill your role...”

His mouth opened as the pain grew hotter, but no sound left his throat.  All air had left his lungs and he felt like he was suffocating.  He closed his eyes against the pain, for a moment he even prayed for death if it would end this suffering.

“You will continue to kill for me, Champion, but I thirst for more… for Light…”

When she released him, Rezyl’s eyes opened and he was back in his bedroom, sitting in the armchair.  There was air in his lungs, there was no burning, and Rilea was still asleep.  He felt moisture on his cheeks so he reached up and wiped his eyes.  When he looked at his hand, his eyes narrowed at the black on his fingers.

…What?

He stood and silently walked into the bathroom, the door closed behind him.  He flicked on the light and looked at himself in the mirror.  Eyes widened at the reflection in front of him.  Blond hair was darkening to black at the roots.  But what struck fear in him and made him feel sick was his eyes.  His irises were… brighter, but not in a good way.  They were yellow-er, more chartreuse than emerald, and almost seemed like they were glowing.  The whites of his eyes were black.  Black, sludge-like fluid leaked out of his eyes and onto his cheeks, poisoning his skin.  He tried to wipe it away, but it just kept coming back, leaving dark streaks on his cheeks.  His hands started to shake as he turned on the faucet and splashed some water on his face.  Maybe he was hallucinating.  But when he looked in the mirror again, everything was still there.

Rezyl took a step back from the sink and sank to the floor.  He held fistfuls of hair in his hands as he tried not to freak out and wake his lover who was still sleeping in the next room.  Somewhere in the back of his head, a whisper.  A low hum with vicious, murderous intent.

He didn’t even think.  He silently left the bathroom, had Amit gather all of his belongings and put them on his jumpship, which was currently sitting in orbit.  Amit tried to ask questions, but the Titan gave him a look so dark that even his Ghost shut up and did as it was asked.  Rezyl cloaked himself and picked up the holster for his cannon and wrapped belt around his hips.  When he picked up his cannon, he saw for the first time how different it was.  Hive bone had spread around the barrel, warped the chamber and the hammer.  There was an eerie glow at the end of the barrel, a swirling orb that matched the green glow of his eyes.  He slid the lead out of the chamber and looked at the bullets, sharply pointed and warped to look like thorns.  He slipped them back in place and closed the chamber with soft click.

He looked over at Rilea while she slept in bed.  He felt overwhelming sorrow.  Before he left, he grabbed a piece of looseleaf and wrote her a note.  His final apology.  He tucked the note underneath his pillow and walked around to her side of the bed.  His fingers ghosted over her hair and around the frame of her face as he gazed down at her for the last time, then pressed a featherlight kiss over her lips.

His voice was barely even a whisper.  “I love you, sweet girl…  Forgive me…”

— — — — — 

Rilea woke the next morning with a yawn, but when her eyes opened she realized that Rezyl was nowhere to be found.  She got out of bed and slipped into her robe, and she called out for him.  No answer.  She looked around the entire apartment.  He was nowhere to be found.  Nothing of his was here, no clothes, no armor, no weapons.  Not even a damn sock.  

Panic set in.  She dressed and hurried out onto the streets.  She visited everywhere she could think of, every place that she knew had meaning to him, to the both of them.

Nowhere.

She took the elevator up to the Tower.  It was the only place left he could possibly be.  Every Guardian in the Tower looked at her strangely.  At this point, tears were streaming down her cheeks.  And she looked everywhere.  From the North Tower to the Hanger.  She even asked Amanda Holliday if his ship was anywhere in their manifest.

It wasn’t.

Fear was gripping her heart by the time she ran into the Hall of Guardians.  All three Vanguards over at her.  Commander Zavala and Master Rey exchanged a look.  Cayde-6 looked at both of them in confusion.  He’d only been Vanguard now for about two months.

“Rilea,”  Ikora Rey said softly.  She was the only Vanguard who knew her name.  “What’s the matter?”

The woman was visibly shaking at this point.  A new stream of tears rolled onto her cheeks.  Her voice was broken when she finally spoke.  “Rezyl’s gone.”

The Vanguard didn’t believe her.  Not at first.  He was a hero of the Last City, so why would he just disappear?  It would take them six months to realize that he was really, truly missing, and by then it was too late to start searching.

Rilea knew Rezyl.  If Rezyl didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be.  She returned home that evening cold and drained and empty.  She curled up in bed and hugged his pillow to her chest.  She heard a small rustle as something fell to the floor.  She sat up and walked around to his side of the bed and found a folded piece of parchment.  Tears formed in her eyes as she picked it up from the floor, flicked on the lamp, sat back down on the bed, and unfolded the parchment.

Rilea, my love, my paramour,

I can’t forgive myself for the pain that I’ve caused you.  I promised you that I would never hurt you again and I can’t risk losing you in the crossfire of my mistakes.

I love you too much to let my mistakes corrupt you, too, sweet girl.

I hope you can forgive me. 

- Azzir

Tag List : @mail-me-a-snail

[phantomwarrior12]

Destiny Masterlist

Young Wolf Drabbles

Young Wolf x Requests:

Meet Again (Hunter [She/Her] x Ignovun)

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The Crow x Guardian

The Crow:

Rash Decisions

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Lord Shaxx x Guardian

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Commander Zavala x Guardian:

Stubborn Distractions

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Lord Saladin x Guardian:

Surprise

Caged Wolf

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O14 (Osiris x Saint-14)

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Candal (Cayde-6 x Andal Brask):

Deal’s A Deal

Cayde-6:

Roles Reversed (Abandoned Fic Series)

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The Drifter Drabbles:

Embrace the Darkness

The Drifter x Guardian:

Little Token

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Acrius x Guardian (Hunter [She/Her] x Cabal OC):

Arranged

Priorities

Reveal

Trouble Sleeping

Crimson Cabal

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Essa x Tevez (Warlock OC x Titan OC)

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OC Requests:

Discussion

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Misc. Requests:

[fireteam-survivor]

Chapter 22 of the main story but the 23rd overall chapter! Enjoy!

[literupture]

Banking Dark Chocolate Motes

Finally got around to writing this! The Dawning themed fluff, featuring my female Guardian OC x The Drifter. 

It's been five years since I've last written and completed anything, so I'm a little rusty. This is also the first time I've ever posted a fic online!

Cross-posted on Fanfiction and AO3.

The bland, serious walls of the Tower underwent its seasonal change slowly at first, but when the whispers of The Dawning started, it was as if the Traveler flipped the stronghold's festive light switch.

Vallory always treasured this season, and one reason was because it came after the Festival of the Lost. The Dawning was a time to feel more alive after spending the duration of the Festival remembering her fallen friends. She'd always found it easier to celebrate their lives after the Festival ended, anyway. Something about the painful reminder of their faces on the memorials made it harder for her to move on.

The air at this altitude could be sharp and unwelcoming, but everyone did their part to spread the warmth. Families taught their children how to make special paper lanterns that would be infused with Solar light from initiate warlocks, every booth had a heater set up from maintenance, hot beverages were made and passed out every hour. It was a nice, warm place for active Guardians to come home to after their missions.

Vallory especially appreciated the difference in volume. As a Titan, she rarely had much time to relax her ears. Around this season, the Tower replaced its evenly spread busy clamor for concentrated spots with idle chatter. Vallory wasn't too picky about it, but it certainly made the place feel more like a hub instead of a flea market.

But there was something extra special about this Dawning. About two weeks earlier, Val saw an elderly woman dressed in knitted clothing leading some groups in decorating, and the Titan immediately dropped what she was doing to greet the woman. It was none other than Eva Levante, whom many Guardians and other Tower-goers lovingly referred to as Shader Grandma.

Eva Levante seemed to remember every face here, which is one of the many reasons why people loved her. She also gave the best hugs--Val felt its warmth even through the bulky plate armor that she wore.

Eva had also set up her family's grand oven, and many civilians and Guardians learned how to bake that same day. Vallory was one of those newbies; she always had an interest in cooking, but lacked experience when it came to baked goods and other sweets. Eva was quick to make Vallory change from her battle armor into more comfortable clothing, saying that it would not be wise to wear metal when working with a hot oven. It became routine for the Titan to switch into casual clothing before landing her jumpship at the Tower's Hangar. She made sure to visit every day, and spent at least a few hours baking every visit. She'd spent the past couple of weeks baking and delivering sweets and pastries to her friends and comrades, from cinnamon-dusted Gjallardoodles for Commander Zavala, to Awoken Corsair-themed frosted cookies for Petra Venj.

"Whatcha baking today, Val?"

Vallory looked up from her mixing bowl. A thick, dark brown batter rested inches from the lip of the large wooden container. Her bright yellow-green eyes met the hazel eyes of a younger, shorter, tanned girl in dark-purple robes--Karyna, her best friend.

"I'm uh... trying my hand at a certain recipe," Vallory replied, then resumed mixing the batter with a wooden spoon. She focused on blending the ingredients, hoping that Karyna wouldn't notice the hint of a blush on her light blue cheeks.

"Oh? Which one?" Karyna inquired, leaning over the counter to get a closer look at the mixture. Her caramel brown hair was choppy and uneven, like she had cut it herself. It stopped just short of her shoulders, framing her face. The girl's face had lighter splotches of skin scattered about it, and people often mistook it for war paint. In fact, Vallory was one of those people, but she learned later on that Karyna had vitiligo. "Can I help? Where's the recipe? Is there a recipe, or are you just making one up?" The warlock's inquisitive eyes scanned the items on the table: basic baking ingredients like eggs, flour, milk, butter, and sugar... along with a small glass container of peppermint extract and a large bag of dark chocolate.  She seemed to come to a conclusion. "Oooh, peppermint! And dark chocolate! I don't think I've seen you make this one yet!"

"You haven't, because this is my first time making it," Vallory said with the tiniest hint of exasperation. She liked to think she was used to her bubbly friend and her rapid-fire questions, but that wasn't the case. "And I appreciate the offer, but I kinda wanna make this one on my own." Satisfied with her work on the batter, Vallory began to scoop it out onto two baking pans, smoothing them over evenly with the spoon.

Karyna's nose crinkled as she frowned, but her disappointment lasted just a moment. "Oh, alright," she conceded. She placed her elbows on the counter, and was about to rest her head on her gloved hands, but then she quickly shot upright, alerted. "Wait!" she exclaimed, then continued with a sly smile, "these are for a special someone, aren't they?"

The faint blush on Vallory's cheeks became more prominent, and she knew she'd been caught. "Shut up," she said, upon seeing Karyna opening her mouth to speak again. "It's not like that." She turned to place the baking sheets in the oven, trying to hide her stupid grin.

"Oh my Traveler, you are truly an awful liar," Karyna teased, hopping up to sit on the cleared space of the counter. Her small frame took up very little of the hard surface, and her legs dangled several feet off the ground. Vallory turned to glare at her, and Karyna added, "well, you're an awful liar when it comes to doing cheesy or wholesome stuff."

Vallory wiped her hands on her apron. "I hate you," she lied, then crossed her arms and leaned against the edge of the countertop, near her friend.

"Is it for..." Karyna's gaze moved over to an isolated corner of the courtyard, where there was a partially raised gate. "The Drifter?" she whispered.

Vallory's eyes followed her gaze. She said nothing, only bit the corner of her pink lip, hoping to stop herself from saying something stupid.

"Maybe," Val muttered, then swore under her breath. Eh, oh well, she thought, for nothing she could do would disprove the obvious. She looked at her warlock friend out of the corner of her eye. The girl was grinning at her devilishly. Val rolled her eyes, trying to downplay her embarrassment.

"Well, Val," Karyna started, and the expression on her face became smug. "I won't try to make you feel any worse than you probably do right now, but I just wanted to say," she paused, taking in a deep breath. "Since I first became a Guardian, I've seen you with so many partners that I've lost count. And of the ones I do remember, I know that's not even half of your total."

At this, Vallory regained her composure. Karyna was right; she did find her way around, and there was nothing wrong with that. If anything, she was a little proud of her sexual endeavors.

"But," Karyna continued, "this is definitely the first time I've seen you do anything like this for any of your partners."

The Titan could feel her neck and cheeks getting red with color, even with her Awoken-blue skin. Karyna was right--everything Vallory did was either casual or done as a joke, and she certainly never did anything for her partners that didn't result in sex. When the idea to bake something for The Drifter first came to her, her intentions were pure. Mostly. Any interaction with the shady individual was hardly pure.

"I dunno," Vallory began, and a soft bell chime interrupted her. She uncrossed her arms and slipped on a pair of quilted red oven mitts. "I just thought I would do something nice for a change. And you know he doesn't exactly have a... 'safe' diet."

Karyna snorted at that. "Ha! And here you are baking him sweets!"

Vallory swatted the girl's shoulder. "Whatever, you know what I mean." She strode over to the oven, removing both trays with ease, and set them on another counter to cool them. It didn't take long, due to the cold weather.

Karyna hopped down from her counter and stood beside Vallory, who had procured a triangular metal cutter, and assessed the freshly baked goods. Val's mouth watered at the smell, but she quickly pressed the cutter into the pan. She repeated this until she had turned the two blocks of brownies into a large platter of stacked triangles.

"Wanna try one?" Vallory asked, holding out a brownie for her friend.

"Do I?" Karyna beamed, then seemed to remember her manners. "I mean, yes. I would be honored."

The warlock plucked the brownie from Vallory's fingertips, and they both bit into their respective pieces. It was warm and soft and seemed to melt in her mouth. The dark chocolate was rich but not overwhelming, and the peppermint left a cool aftertaste. It reminded her of the chilly sensation she got when she first held a Mote of Darkness in Gambit, and the rush of blood when she hopped through the invasion portal for the first time.

It was perfect.

A low hum came from beside Vallory, breaking her out of her reverie. She looked over to see her friend's eyes closed, a blissful expression on her face.

"Well?"

"I think he'll love it."

Vallory smiled sheepishly. "I sure hope so."

 -x-

 After she carefully wrapped the plate of brownies with clear cling wrap, Vallory hung up her apron for the day. Karyna had wished her luck with delivering the brownies and suggested that Val should buy some milk, so she stopped by a dairy stall and bought a half gallon.

Now she stood by the gate to Drifter's hideout, balancing the platter on one hand and holding the jug of milk in the other. She took a deep breath to compose herself, and slowly ducked through the opening.

"Knock knock," Vallory said, standing upright. In the corner of the dim room she saw the back of a man in a long, dark leather coat with fur shoulders. He was hunched over a work bench, so the top of his short black hair and the black bandana wrapped around his forehead were barely visible. His gloved hands were tinkering away at a hand cannon. She noted the Tex Mechanica logo on the barrel and smiled; he had good taste in weapons for sure.

The Drifter turned his head, the fur on his pauldrons tickling his chin. His blue eyes skimmed over Vallory, and he smiled in recognition. "Well, if it ain't my favorite Guardian," he said, placing his tools down. He turned to face her, his demeanor all swagger, and grinned that winning smile that made most people uncomfortable but always made Val feel relaxed. "You don't look like you're here for some Gambit," he said, noticing that the brown-haired Awoken girl was not wearing her usual black bulky armor, but instead she stood before him wearing a black turtleneck sweater and a dark blue pair of jeans. Her dark clothing made her light blue skin and bright eyes more noticeable, and even though he'd seen her plenty of times without her armor, the sight of her momentarily stunned him.

The Drifter's gaze moved to the objects in Vallory's hands. "Oooo, what's that ya got there?"

"Just a little something I made for you," Vallory responded, moving to place the brownies and milk onto a free spot on a table. She unwrapped part of the plate and removed a brownie, then offered it to him. "Dark chocolate motes."

The Drifter took the pastry from Vallory's hand, the tips of his gauntlets brushing lightly against her bare fingers. She could feel her skin getting hot; she was immediately thankful for the poorly-lit room and the fabric of her sweater covering her skin.

She watched his scarred face as he took a bite of the brownie and chewed. "Mmmm," he said, with his eyes closed, and Val shuddered. There was something about that noise that pleased her; it was low and and almost rhythmic. "You're always feedin' me," he said, opening his eyes. "And here I thought our setup was casual."

Vallory shrugged, then smirked at him. "I can't casually feed the guy I casually fuck?"

At that, The Drifter let out an honest laugh. "Fair enough."

She watched him eat the rest of the brownie, then he popped open the jug of milk and took a swig. "Thanks for the grub, Miss Chosen One."

"Thanks for letting me share," Vallory smiled at him. They locked eyes for a moment, and she seemed to consider something, but shook the thought away. She told herself that she had just wanted to do this nice thing and be on her way, at least this time. In the spirit of The Dawning, she told herself, even though she wanted nothing more but to hang out here in his shelter, away from everyone else.

"Well," she finally said. "I'll let you get back to work."

Val could've sworn that she saw a hint of disappointment in his icy blue eyes, but she told herself that his desire for her to stay was different than hers, even if it was just this once.

She moved to leave, but paused. "Hey, Drifter?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Hotshot?"

Vallory leaned towards him and swiftly planted a kiss on his cheek. "Happy Dawning," she muttered, her face still close to his. She was starting to feel embarrassed again, and she didn't want him to catch on to that, so she quickly strode away and out of his corner, ducking under the gate.

Vallory didn't get to see The Drifter lift his fingers to his cheek, where she had kissed him moments ago. She didn't get to watch the surprise on his face turn into a huge grin, or how he cursed at himself under his breath afterwards.

[littleshebear]

When you’ve been dating for a while and you and your partner end up shopping at the same store. 

[titan-mom]

Destiny: Titan Orders

“Titan marks are worn to honor the history of individuals or entire orders.”

Jen has gone digging again! This time pulling up all sorts of legendary Titan orders for all your fic and oc needs!

The Sunbreakers

Not just a subclass, but a legendary order from before the time of the walls.

“Once, these marks streamed proudly from the City's rooftops. Now, they are a symbol of defiance.” (x)

“Some Titan orders predate the City, born of a darker time, when Light was an untamed weapon.” (x)

"Of all the Lights, we burned the brightest." —Unknown Sunbreaker (x)

The Firebreak Order

Concern themselves with doing the most damage in a life, and a death. Their philosophy is fighting the enemy in the wilds, beyond the City walls.

“It is called the Firebreak Calculus: how much good could I do if I find the right place and fight until I die?” (x)

“The Firebreak orders strive to draw the battle away from the City and its interests.” (x)

“At Six Fronts, two Firebreak commanders led a sortie beyond the walls. They reclaimed five miles of scorched land from the Fallen.” (x)

The Stoneborn Order

The age-old defenders of the Wall, they hold the line.

A piece of the City's first Wall, carved into the shape of the sigil of the Titan Stoneborn order. (x)

"They don't fail." - Commander Zavala, in an emergency session of the City Consensus (x)

The Pilgrim Guard

The first Titan Order to be formed for the defense of the City, when it was a fledgling civilization. Vel Tarlowe was a member.

“Legend holds that Titans stood in defense of the first pilgrims to gather below the Traveler.” (x)

"To those behind the Wall, love and service. To those outside it, fury and fire." —Pilgrim Guard maxim (x)

“The Pilgrim Guard was the first Titan order, formed to protect refugees entering the fledgling Last City.” (x)

"Your first duty is to the people of the City." —Pilgrim Guard (x) 

“Vell Tarlowe was still a new Guardian when he joined the Titan Order of the Pilgrim Guard.” (x)

First Pillars

Elite Titans, who commemorate those of their rank who have fallen by remembering the location of their final deaths.

“Titans train to fight on dangerous ground, a first line of defense against any crisis.” (x)

"Kei-Ying. Gave his last full measure at Twilight Gap." —The Last Stands of First Pillars (x)

"Gunnvor, the Dawncaller. Gave her last full measure at the Ocean of Storms." —The Last Stands of First Pillars (x)

"Emonda Swale. Gave her last full measure in the Cosmodrome." —The Last Stands of First Pillars (x)

"Luke Romagne. Gave his last full measure in the European Dead Zone." —The Last Stands of First Pillars (x)

The Keepers

Not much mention, so perhaps not an official order, but a nice thought. They are peacekeepers among the City streets.

When there is turmoil in the City, cool-headed Titans often help restore the peace. Sometimes it costs them. (x)

[fireteam-survivor]

So I have hand written the next chapter of The Aftermath so I shall type it up tomorrow morning whilst my rats are running round their play pen and my partner is putting pictures up... finally.

Only had the pictures sat waiting for 3 years.