#oc:miyu | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thedistantstorm · 6 years ago

Text

Phoenix Protocol 21

When the Traveler’s Light was returned to the Guardians after the defeat of the Cabal, it did not manifest itself the same in everyone. Miyu, an Awoken Warlock, finds herself struggling with her abilities, her Light feeling different and not her own. With her Vanguard preoccupied with grief and all eyes turned to the Reef, she finds herself turning to an unlikely source in an attempt to rediscover her connection to the Light and define what it means for her as a Dawnblade.

Previously

Ikora's study smells like lavender. To the outsider, it only exaggerates her usual aura of reserved calm. She looks steady, peaceful. To Miyu, it is only further indication that she feels unsettled.

It has been four days since the incident.

Three days since she'd been back to the Tower. Three days since Ikora and Zavala had their official, loud enough for the Jovians to hear them (Shaxx's words, not hers) argument on leadership and grief and plenty of other things that most of the Tower heard. Two days since Ikora had sent her a message: half angry, half hurt but all self-loathing with an undercurrent of remorse.

The door is open so she steps through, centuries of quick footwork making her steps virtually silent. Ikora's eyes are focused on a text propped in front of her, frowning as she studies it.

Miyu takes a breath, wills her hands to be still and speaks. “Do you have a moment?”

The Warlock Vanguard looks up immediately and backs away from her task. “Of course,” She says, almost tripping over her words. “Please, take a seat.” She gestures to a bench, covered with a strangely detailed tapestry. Miyu complies. “How are you feeling?”

Her bright eyes link with Ikora's golden ones. She thinks of the Speaker, and of visions and of what is best and right and what she should say.

“If I told you I'm fine, would you believe me?”

Ikora shakes her head, just a fraction. “I…” Her eyes harden with her lack of surety, “I don't know.”

Miyu nods. Lays a pale, trembling hand on Ikora's arm and pretends not to notice Ikora examining her fingers. They twitch, a result of still-frazzled nerves, though they are mostly the color of her skin and not a pinkish brown-black like they had been. “I’m not angry with you,” She finally says. The gesture is a stretch, but she pushes through. “So please don't be angry with yourself, as it pertains to me.”

“You almost-”

“Died. Permanently. I've been told.” Miyu removes her hand from Ikora's forearm to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Zavala’s been regarding her like she’s made of glass. She doesn’t need it from Ikora, too. “I'm sorry for worrying you.”

“You,” She frowns and Miyu knows worry isn’t quite the word her Vanguard would call it. The Speaker's words flash in her mind. Overwhelmed might be the correct word, but it would certainly entertain Ikora's wrath. “I-”

It's a rarity that the Warlock before her cannot find the words. It helps her feel confident. She might make it through this conversation after all. “I know we have not seen eye to eye lately, Ikora, but there is something I would like to ask, if you're still willing.”

“You were the one who told me you didn’t want to go to Mercury,” Zavala tries his best not to growl, “You told me you would be furious with me if I attempted convince you to see Osiris.” He pauses. It does nothing to temper his frustration. “And yet, Ikora has just submitted a request to allow you to leave that states that you asked to go.”

“I asked her to speak with you,” Miyu replies mildly. Zavala’s eyebrows rise, as if he cannot believe she’s just said that. The Warlock sighs. She had expected as much, after all. “Look, I know you two are fighting but-”

“Our disagreements on other affairs aside,” He begins, voice rising like a wave making landfall. It takes everything in her not to shrink back at the bite in his tone. “She nearly killed you! Her lack of judgement almost cost you your-”

“Don’t you think she knows that?” Miyu holds out both hands. She really, really doesn’t want to fight. He just needs to let her go. “Zavala, listen to me.”

“Regardless, I don’t think this is a good idea,” He says, frowning deeply. “I don’t think you should leave the Tower until we can be sure that this won’t happen again.”

Miyu shakes her head. “And if we can’t?” She questions, her voice flat. It's telling of her own discontent. “Tamashii brought me back a lot when I fought with Ikora. It wasn’t like it was just one resurrection!”

“Still. I’m worried for you.” He gestures to her and she knows she should have kept her hands behind her back. Not that it would have helped, she’s spent a great deal of time with him since things had transpired in midtown. “Your hands are still shaking. You told me they were still painful yesterday. How are they now?”

“Getting better,” She answers. “But don’t change the subject. I need you to let me see Osiris.”

His eyes narrow, examining her. She forces herself not to fidget. “What changed your mind?”

Miyu breathes deep. Forces herself to look him in the eye. “You.”

Azure eyes blink at her in surprise, his frustration and anger momentarily set aside as he studies her. He breathes out an incredulous, “What?”

“You’re the one who said that if anything could help, it was worth looking into. Even if you are at odds with Ikora, and even if you don’t like Osiris.”

“If you step into the Infinite Forest, I won’t be able to come for you, if something happens. I won’t know-”

Miyu closes her eyes. She’d thought about that, but it didn’t matter where she was. There was always some danger associated with living, immortal or not. She takes a breath. “I’m not going to die. Not permanently.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” She concedes, “But I have a good Ghost, and I’m not going to launch myself headfirst into danger.” She rounds his desk, eyeing the newly repaired cracks that have been filled with resin. Shaxx had provided her with his account of things - as well as an apology for meddling. He hadn’t believed it possible for the two of them to develop feelings for each other - more specifically for Zavala to return her budding feelings - but the unrestrained outburst was an undeniable tell.

“I know,” He says finally. He leans back in his desk chair, and she takes it as permission to drop into his lap. His arms draw up around her. “I just worry. I do not want...” She presses her lips to his cheek, but he turns after a moment and captures her lips with his own. “If you really must go, I’ll allow it. But I’m not thrilled.”

“Thank you,” She breathes, tense shoulders relaxing. “And, I know.”

“I only ask one thing.”

“Okay?” She tips her head to the side, waiting.

He remembers her telling him once that she was never selected to be one of Ikora’s Hidden because she has always been an abysmal liar. Her fists are clenched too tight, and her eyes are darting from side to side. Maybe Ikora believed her but...

Zavala rears back far enough to pin her with serious, knowing, sad eyes. Her stomach drops, but she can't look away.

Of course he knows.

“Tell me the truth, Miyu. Where do you really plan to go?”

He dozes lightly beside her, his lips twitching, the muscles of his legs flexing as if mimicking a slow rendition of his gait. She slides her palm down his arm when he begins jerking slightly every three to four breaths, whatever lucid dream he’s experiencing transcending into something more like a nightmare.

When his eyes snap open, they’re brighter than usual. He looks at her sharply, as if he hasn’t spent the last hour or so unconscious. She presses in closer to him, and he kisses her with a fervor she’s not anticipating. It’s like she blinks and they’ve discarded their sleepwear, resting skin to skin from hip to shoulder. She’s pliant, laying back against the bed, looking up at him with unguarded, semi-glazed eyes, the very picture of everything he both wants and needs.

Zavala licks her lips and kisses her once again but rolls over beside her without pushing for anything more. She blinks up at the ceiling, in the dark, lashes beating almost silently against her cheeks. Tilts her head toward him. “You okay?”

There is no answer. She takes it as a no. He makes no effort to explain.

It could be so many things. She is not foolish enough to think he's over the fact that she tried to lie to him. Aside from that, there have been numerous harrowing reports from the Reef. The Awoken are demanding his support. They've sent emissaries to discuss terms. The Festival of the Lost is nearly upon them and they've already lost so much that reflecting upon it for the duration is almost more than he can bear.

Her fingers slip down his face in a too-gentle motion, contrasting with the quick flip of her body up and over to sit on top his abdomen. He opens his eyes after several dips of her fingers down to his shoulder and back. She smiles sadly at him, the same way he’s looking at her. “When I tell you,” She whispers, unable to find the strength to say it at full volume in the quiet of the room, “When I tell you that I love you, I want to say it with all of me. I know that’s unfair, I shouldn't have lied to you, and I know I’m being selfish, Zavala, but please-”

Miyu lowers her lips to his, not trusting the words to say everything she means. When they make love, neither of them speak.

Afterward, she stares up at the ceiling, catching her breath. “Part of me wishes I could go with you,” He says, quietly. She does not turn to him, afraid that he'll hold back based on some unconscious shift in her gaze. “Ikora asked me if we truly needed a Vanguard, when we-” He sighs, “During our argument. ‘The Guardians practically police themselves,’ she'd said.” Soft fingertips follow the musculature of his forearm to find the hand between them. She links his digits with hers. “She's not entirely wrong.”

Miyu stares upward still. “Are you saying you'd rather resign?” She asks, softly.

He looks over at her, his eyes sending extra light flickering down the side of her face. “I thought you would argue with me on it. At least disagree.”

She half-smiles. Zavala sees the twitch in the muscles in the side of her face. “You fight enough with yourself, I think. Plus, you've done this for a long time. No one would fault you - either of you - for wanting to step down. No one is exactly begging for your job.”

“It is not all it's cracked up to be. I do not know how much more I can take.” He squeezes her hand harder. “Are my decisions correct? Will the consequences of my actions or inactions doom those who cannot protect themselves? Am I-”

“‘He has always had such unshakable faith,’” Miyu interrupts him. She sits up so she may look upon his face, still naked and luminous. Twin quicksilver eyes seem to see right through him, shaking him to the core.

“What did you just say?”

The Warlock does not answer, posing a question of her own. “Anata.” Dearest. “Who is the one who speaks for the Traveler?”

“No one.”

She smiles gently, shaking her head. His brows furrow in confusion. “Everyone.”

He persists. “There is no Speaker, not since-”

“We are all the Traveler's voices.”

He has spent enough time around Warlocks to know when one is seeing something he does not. “Miyu, where is this coming from?”

Silence worms between them for a few moments. “I can't tell you everything,” She finally gushes, “But I promise you that your efforts are realized, and the burden of your duty does not go unseen.”

“How?” It is a brittle word, cracked under the weight of stress and and grief. Her heart burns for this man. She cannot allow him to think so little of himself, of his duties, or his sacrifices.

She does not take the sheet with her, when she rises.

“Get up. We're going for a walk.”

#commander zavala #oc:miyu #zavala x oc #destiny fanfiction #miyu the sweet bean warlock #collection: phoenix protocol

4 notes · View notes