#ok i'm settling on that spelling for kes' name i think

[fernsplaysthings]

Speaking of writing; a continuation of this.

Some time after the Dawning passed, Glint let the Young Wolf know his Guardian was having dreams. Probably nothing, but there were flashes of things that concerned him. Past life. Connections made by the Traveller too maybe. Voices.

Not as concerning as Xivu Arath and her High Celebrant were though.

They were the immediate threat and with four Wrathborn deaths under their collective belt the prospect of drawing out the High Celebrant and ending it was rushing up to them quicker than anticipated. Kestral hadn’t really thought much about it aside from the bigger picture but luckily for them Osiris and Crow had the planning under control.

Not that the Phoenix would be out in the field with them these days.

Which left the Young Wolf once again trudging through Spider’s lair, one slightly battered sparrow ditched in the corridor just to peeve the Eliksni. They weren’t greeted by Glint as they would’ve usually been. He and Crow were pouring over the lure, tweaking pieces across it, adding as and when they needed to.

Kestral was about to make their arrival known when Roost nudged them and gestured to the workbench. Tucked just behind the mess of lure and Hive goo, in a spot just safe of the reach of whatever mess and splatter the young Hunter’s tinkering could produce sat the Dawning tin they’d delivered cookies in a few weeks earlier and the powered down string of lights. It took a couple of seconds for Kestral to notice what their Ghost was gesturing too and a second longer to recognise the smug, suggestive squint of his softly glowing eye at the light giddiness that had decided to bubble in their chest.

“He kept them.”

Kestral swatted the Ghost away playfully, firmly not acknowledging his hum of amusement and the nice warm feeling of hope that they knew was silly and not appropriate but…

“Crow.”

The Awoken snapped his head to look over his shoulder and smiled - tired but pleased to be interrupted - at his visitors, gaze immediately following theirs to the small Dawning stash and bashfully moved to block the view as he turned and leaned against the workbench.

“I may have eaten them all. Alone,” he said softly, a laugh laced between his words, “They helped me get through all this…”

A wave towards the chaotic looking bench beckoned Kestral over to see the contraption and all it’s alterations in more detail. Now stood side by side overlooking the reconstructed lure they raised a hand and cautiously squeezed his shoulder. Reassuring him, they hoped, but knowing it was also a small reassurance to themself too.

“I’m glad a sugar hit helped. It looks like you’ve been working hard.”

For a brief moment Crow’s hand reflexively covered the other Hunter’s on his shoulder before leaning on both palms over the lure, glowing eagle-like eyes looking for other things to change and tweak. Kestral leaned on their elbows against the bench, arms loosely folded and tried to follow the route of his inspection, glancing back and forth from machinery to his face, back to the machine. This wasn’t really their forte and did kind of hope they could learn something new from their companion.

Not something they’d ever expected to think with their sights settled on the face that once belonged to Uldren Sov, but here they were. 

Settled maybe a little too long.

A light smile tugged at the corners of his lips before he opened his mouth to speak, “It’s looking good. Now all I need is a Guardian to take out the High Celebrant.” He met their held gaze, taking Kestral a little by surprise, the smile stuck in place, “You in?”

They liked his stupid face. They could hear the Ghosts whispering about how much they liked his stupid face. Roost knew, of course Roost knew. They couldn’t hide anything from Roost, especially not the blossom of hope that sat in their chest at the idea that someone might not be intimidated by the Young Wolf, might not sit them up on a pedestal. Out of reach. Untouchable.

“I’m in.”

-----

Before they could set their plan to tackle the High Celebrant into motion, Crow’s dreams quickly took over. The dreams apparently not all dream-like anymore and more…

...weird scavenger hunt like.

“Paracausal birds shed like a bitch,” muttered Kestral, carefully picking up yet another plume from the ground.

They’d seen this bird before in their own dreams during the Red War and there was no doubt it was some communication from the Traveller. This time it was through the medium of Crow and not themself which for the most part was a relief. Carrying the expectation of being the ‘Chosen One’ was a heavy burden. On the other hand they wondered if there was some petty paracausal game being played now that they’d tangled themself within the Darkness too. Reminding them on what kind of connection they used to have with the Light to try and spur some sort of jealousy at Crow’s new ‘favoured’ status.

Not that he saw it like that. He saw it as the Light bringing them to work together. They did sort of like that.

Crow’s breath crackled over the comms as he laughed causing Kestral to grin to themself behind their helmet. They enjoyed his company a lot these days. Sure, it wasn’t like Hunters to stick together like this. In fireteams on missions, yeah. Temporary bonds. But constant company over comms even when they couldn’t work together in proximity? It was a little bit telling. Roost wasn’t here to judge them for their wandering thoughts this time though, safely stashed away until they reached the area Crow was leading them to.

“Just up here, on the left,” Crow’s voice softened as they rounded the corner, “It was my nest for a while. Glint and I stayed here when things were...bad.”

The entrance was a broken hole in the wall leading into a room set up into a makeshift living space. A sleeping bag spread out on stone or concrete. A work bench covered in forgotten pieces of firearms. A white sheet scrunched up near the bed and…

“I didn’t drink it,” he said quickly, Glint’s quiet laugh heard just behind his words, “A Warlock I saved gave me that bottle of wine. She recognised me from my previous life and...I wanted nothing to do with that.”

Kestral’s heart hurt.

He talked them through all the items in the room as they looked at them. The shroud. The Dawning ornament. They wanted to reach out and hold onto him while he spoke. He was so sincere it ached, trusting them with a year of pain, with the trauma of not knowing what he’d done to deserve it. Only knowing that it didn’t matter. He wasn’t that person anymore, whoever he had been.

Selfish as it was, Kestral was glad.

There was unspoken thanks and a much needed breeze of relief when Crow had finished talking about his past year and Kestral left the nest.

-----

Hawkmoon had switched hands a few times before the sun started to set, both Hunters taking pot shots with their new shiny loot before it was finally tucked away in favour of a campfire, some food and much too much to drink.

It’d been a long damn day with all the Taken Kestral had had to deal with in the EDZ, forging their new weapon and finally returning to the Tangled Shore to share the excitement with Crow so the pair were definitely due this time to unwind. Even if unwinding consisted of music blasting from Kestral’s ship parked nearby, messily munching down on campfire roasted...something, and really awful drunken dancing.

Really awful drunken dancing with Crow. 

Sober Kestral might have had something to say about that. About the carefree silliness that they rarely got to share with anyone aside from their fireteam that they easily shared with their Hunter companion now. About the warmth from the alcohol and the warmth from where his hands would occasionally make contact with their hands, arms, body. About the fact that Glint and Roost were floating about nearby, letting their Guardians unwind but still keeping watchful eyes on them.

Crow twirled them once and chuckled a little when they stumbled over their own feet, reaching an arm out to stabilise them and gripped slightly tighter as they wobbled. He grinned widely when Kestral backed away slightly, their hand still wrapped in his.

“I should probably sit down,” they laughed, “But don’t stop dancing on my account.”

“I don’t know. I think sitting’s a good idea.”

Fingers still tangled in Kestral’s he followed after them to where they decided to rest near the fire, sitting down in the grass, leaning back up against the rock that shielded their fire from the wind. Neither could quite tell who was leaning into who but the comforting weight of Crow pressed to their side was inspiring an alarming amount of softness somewhere in their gut.

They wondered if - hoped - Crow was feeling equally sentimental and sweet, even if the feelings were blurred weirdly by the buzz of whatever they’d had to drink that evening. Grabbing the bottle from nearby, Kestral took a swig and turned to pass it to Crow, not expecting to come face to face with him.

And oh boy they really liked his stupid face.

He took the bottle from Kestral’s hand, a lopsided smile on his lips, and instead of raising it to drink he set it down on the ground again his eyes not leaving their face.

“Can I kiss you, Kes?”

It took everything in their being not to immediately grasp him by the collar and press their mouth to his. It took a little more to remember that they were both extremely drunk and perhaps things, feelings, were just a little overwhelming and maybe a side effect of the lighthearted closeness - and alcohol - they’d been enjoying all evening.

But his lips were slightly parted and they could only imagine…

“I’m really drunk.”

Crow looked surprised for a moment before he laughed softly, stroking his knuckles slightly shakily over Kestral’s cheek, “Yeah, I’m...pretty drunk too.”

“So maybe…” their gut was doing some kind of gymnastics, they couldn’t stop staring at the other Hunter’s mouth, “...maybe if you wanna wait until we’re not so drunk? If you still...”

His hand had shifted to cup their cheek and Kestral hadn’t even noticed the way they pressed into his palm, their sentence trailed off and their eyes shut briefly. For all of a second they felt stupid for enjoying such a small amount of contact, not that that should surprise them or anyone. It’d been such a long time...

“Sounds like a plan,” his voice sounded a little tight, more breath than sound and with what appeared to be a great amount of strength (and no coordination) he removed his hand from it’s point of contact with Kestral’s cheek and flopped back against the rock that supported the pair.

They felt far too chilly all of a sudden.

Kestral slung their legs over his, nestled themself tightly by his side under an arm and passed out.