#sagira lives

[i-hug-exploder-shanks]

A Cautionary Tale: Saint-14's Blunder

"Some still speak of the day, in hushed tones in the shadows corners of the tower, that Saint-14 fucked up.

The guardians know better than to speak the words too loudly for the great warlock Osiris is able to be anywhere and everywhere at once, but they have to warn the new lights of this cautionary tale.

You see Saint-14 and Osiris have faced unspeakable odds and still come back to each other with their bond stronger than ever. Their story is one of love conquering even time itself. So what could break such a perfect couple? What could bring the greatest love of the ages to a shaky edge?

It was not the hive, fallen, nor even the terrible vex. No my sweet blueberries, It was a bird.

Don't laugh, it's not a joke. Look to your elders and see their expressions little lights. Birds are no laughing matter in the tower. You have seen Saint's flock of pigeons, haven't you? Heard the tender way he calls Osiris his phoenix?

But this bird was neither of these. No, this bird was a Crow. A scrappy little Crow with a broken wing that Osiris found lost and abandoned by its flock. He was very protective of his little Crow. So protective that when Saint upset the little bird, even by accident, Osiris fell into a fit of rage even at his most trusted partner.

He yelled so loud you could hear it on the other side of the city. He snarled and hissed like a mother cat protecting her kits- honestly if you were there it was kinda sweet but you didn't hear that from me- anyway! The point was, Saint-14 was brought to his knees, pleading for forgiveness and repenting his mistake.

What? What did he do? I told you, he made Crow sad. Oh, how? Well Crow had this frankly stupid haircut and Crow overheard Saint joking about it to Geppetto. Oh, no I didn't mean an actual bird. I was being dramatic. Saint-14 and Osiris adopted the Vanguard Crow ages ago back when he was all sad and broody. Anyway, the lesson to be learned here kids, is to never insult Crow where Osiris can find out and he will find out no matter where you are. You should never-"

Osiris crossed his arms raising an eyebrow at the ghost bobbing on a plain tower shell surrounded by new lights and when one of the young hunters turned and yelped it caused the group to scatter like cats from a cucumber.

"Sagira, you can't keep doing this or none of the new lights will ever look at me without jumping." He tsked at her and she giggled as she moved to hover over his shoulder.

"Don't lie, you love watching them cower. Plus, it's funny to see how they all look at Crow after. He has no idea why he has an army of tiny guardian ducklings trailing him." She said dawning her usual shell with a flash of light now she wasn't trying to secretly spread rumors through the tower.

"At least you stopped telling them all I was in my boxers when I yelled at Saint. They really don't need to know those sort of things." He sighed as they headed toward the hanger.

"It was hilarious! You telling off Saint for making fun of Crow's terrible haircut while wearing nothing but your boxers and slippers and sleep robe! I can't believe Crow was brave enough to wake you up to make sad eyes at you over Saint mocking him. This is why he's my favorite." She chirped and Osiris rolled his eyes.

"I thought he was your favorite because he and Glint saved you from the traveler and helped you regain your memories so we could be reunited?" He hummed and she bobbed.

"You can have more than one reason for someone to be your favorite Osiris. After all, I'm sure there's many reasons I'm your favorite." She teased and Osiris frowned.

"When did I say you're my favorite? Did I not tell you of my close bond to the pooka I adopted?" He asked and grinned as she started ranting about how much better she was than some over-empathetic flying fish.

[sercj]

Oooh fuck. This made me realize something that I hadn't thought about yet.

Sagira.

Sagira is dead, and is in the Light with everything else...but without Osiris. She, too, is probably looking for him in there, right?

And obviously I want Osiris to be happy. I want him and Saint to have their happy ending. But. That means that Sagira will be alone.

That Targe is alone.

Man. Now I'm sad about all this all over again...

i'll never get over "there you are" not even because of how tender and relieved it sounds but because those are the words he chooses. not "you saved me," not "we did it," not "it's okay." but "there you are." like he was still looking for us. like he got returned to the light and he was still searching for us the moment he woke up, like he was waiting for us to find each other again.

[emmster]

Next pages! thank you to everyone who submitted their guardians! I still have a few more of these pages planned for the future! I just want to make the tower feel lively and full

thank you to: @kb1301 @feiofthefae @violin-vibecheck @austigmatism @94pigeons @crocodile-god for their guardians! Osiris and Sagira are next week

[thefirstknife]

Bro.....

You know, when they said they'll bring back "one of the most storied locations very briefly" I did think of Saint's grave. Speculated about this with the besties quite a bit as well, that we might go back there for some reason. And now. Yeah.

But my question when I was cooking about this and my question now that Ikora said this remains the same: how? How is that accessible? The grave is in the Infinite Forest. Infinite Forest is on Mercury. Mercury is still in a Darkness anomaly. And the Forest was sealed from the inside. That shit is behind seven proxies.

Obviously we've seen the Infinite Forest gate in the trailer, on Nessus, so I'm assuming the door can be opened from Nessus... somehow? Osiris can probably do it with his cubes or something, but the details of how this will be done and how it will be handled are eating me alive. I'm losing it, but for real this time. I don't have words to describe how much I am compelled.

Anyway, radio message!

Saint-14: Since you found me, I have only doubted who I was once... When Misraaks recounted how his people - their children - feared me... it shook me. Osiris says, that I am Saint-14, my hands raised the wall, I walked with the Pilgrim Guard. How can I be a shadow of the Saint who truly walked this City, when I remember the smells of the streets, and the faces that smile? I met you on Mercury, as I speak to you now. We fought together. I shattered the Vex for centuries, but I lived, where he died. Because we showed the Vex that our fate could not be calculated. Even in simulation, we surprised them, you and I. That, is true. The Conductor claims, I am a man out of time, an approximation of reality. Huh, was I not this already? Hard metal, and brittle memory. Spark, and code, fourteen times over. Only my heart carried through. I know what it means to find myself again. But... The Conductor claims, had Osiris not created the Sundial, had I remained forgotten, Sagira would live still. How could these things be connected? If it is true... I will not take my love from him as well. For it is strong, and he will need it. You would not be afraid. You would know what to do... I am... still trying. But I will find myself again.

He's doing better!!! He's figuring it out!!! I'm assuming now that the main point of conflict for him is the Saint that died. It was never quite clear what happened when we saved Saint; did the timeline diverge at that point or was it always two different timelines? Would the body still be there in the grave if we went there after we saved him? Is there any divergence at all and does it matter?

Because again, the Saint we saved is the same Saint that he's been for most of his life. He clearly remembers meeting us on Mercury which was for him the Dark Age. Before Six Fronts. His story and his legend essentially starts only after meeting us. The Saint that we know exists as he does because we saved his life on Mercury in the Dark Age and gave him the shotgun and he has been trying to live up to this potential ever since. He even quotes it: "I am still trying." He said that in the letter on Perfect Paradox and also when we opened the Forest for him after he was freed. And as I also noted, on week 1, we got a message between Saint and Osiris where they're recalling the exact same memory.

But as I said before, if he has access to any other timeline Saints, there might be differences that the Conductor used to mess with him. I suppose one of those is the Saint that died. And since the shotgun is a paradox, I can't really track it's origin point anywhere. Saint that died had remains of the gun which means that the Saint that died also met us, presumably. But if he'd met us, then he wouldn't have died. Or that's the timeline in which Osiris doesn't make the Sundial and we pick up the shotgun and then with the Sundial we can find the right Saint at the right time and give it to him and then stop him from dying. My brain is dissolving.

Anyway. So. Saint's grave huh. They're killing me with this. I need to think about it for 5 hours or maybe 5 thousand years.

And also the lore page. I assume it's talking about how the Vex Network with its various "denizens" reacted to the Echo.

A fractal cluster of nested realities unfurled like a frond. Two-hundred-and-twenty-odd instances of consciousness reaching in unison. A controlled frenzy of cooperation as the minds within piled Ishtar-branded office furniture to the skies, then lifted one another up to be closer, ones and zeroes stacked perilously, finding swaying purchase with their sensible flats on each other's thin shoulders.

Ishtar scientists!

An irascible trace of a signal sneered at the sincerity of the call but still willed itself to move, reaching up two thin spindles of data in a way that felt somehow familiar.

Asher :) :( T_T

The Great Quiet Thing, the Not-Worm, kept its eyes closed and ignored the call. It was still too soon, it decided. It shivered, the motion forming cascading bubbles of new hypothetical simulations in which it did not shiver. These contradictions soured and burst, scattering nutrients into the network.

What the fuck.

A man in tattered robes, feathers long since worn from his headdress, streaked through the shifting plasmic haze on golden wings, urged on by the tiny starburst at his side. His eyes were furious flame.

Osiris :) And Sagira. :) They're still in the network. Okay! I will just explode.

And of course:

"We need to warn them—" "There's still a chance—" "SAINT—" "Hold on to me—" "I AM OWED THIS—" "Hurry, get Shim—" "There isn't enough of me left—" "TELL ELSIE PRAEDYTH STILL—" "Please, please wait—" "Warn them—" "I have to warn them—"

Welp. We wanted Praedyth to be mentioned. Here he is. I guess I will jump off the cliff now.

Anyway, many thoughts. Genuinely what the fuck is the "Great Quiet Thing" in the Vex Network??? Where is this going. I have so much to think about, brb.

[warderfromtheborder]

Destiny: the year of Very Well Structured Things In Sets of 2

Defiance+Wish: The Sovs Mara and Crow, the Eliksni Misraaks and Eramis, and the Regular Ass Humans Devrim and Petra(PV counts as a regular-ass human she isn't a figure of prophecy or royalty in the reef she's a cop who's been promoted too much out of necessity)

Deep+Witch: The Truncated Heros Sloane and Eris, the Osmium OGs Xivu and Savathun, the Concerned Boss-Parents Zavala and Ikora, and the Wriggly Enablers Ahsa and Drifter (okay you got me) I mean the Nonhuman Guides Ahsa and Immaru

Lightfall: Osiris with no Sagira and Nimbus with no Rohan and Caiatl with no Recognizable Dad and the Witness with no Disciples and Chioma with no Maya and the Vex with no Chill the Living People of Neomuna with no Meatspace to live in. (The dreaming city curse will never end and the people on Neptune will never get to leave the matrix Im sorry but that's the way it is)

The story and themes for this year of Destiny are SO GOOD the writers have done SUCH A GOOD JOB. If making a tighter relationship between the expansion narrative and the seasonal narratives was one of the goals this year they fucking knocked it out of the park, I can't put any of these arcs into its own box because they have been knit together so sturdily. It's all one great narrative, one Very Big narrative, they haven't done it like this before!

(And Im so mad people couldnt stop shitting on Lightfall they are stoping themselves from seeing how good the WHOLE NARRATIVE IS they are probably gonna say come march/near TFS launch "uhh yeah the seasons were good i guees but maybe they shoulda worked harder on Lightfall I mean who even likes Nimbus" and for their Ignorance and Haterism I am sentencing them to reading part two of The Two Towers while they get attacked by Paper-Tube Ninjas and a broadcast system shouts at them 'YOU CANNOT HAVE THE VICTORIES IN RETURN OF THE KING IF FRODO AND SAM DIDNT KEEP WALKING ALL THE WAY TO MORDOR' for 100 hundred years.) (The link there is I didn't get the Point of that part of Two Towers when I first read it and assumed the whole would have been better without it. Obviously...I was wrong, and so are these clowns who think Lightfall has a bad story)

The name of the game this year is Resolution, Catharsis, Armistice, Acceptance. The structuring is so simple and so elegant and so well executed, the 2s, the 3s, the mirroring and the inverting and the unfathomable gloriousness of the victories personal and community and galaxy wide. There is no way to overstate the bitterness of Amanda's death, the relief of exhalation when Sloane retreats, the VINDICATION of Eris's vengeance.

You remember when Zavala 'discovered' Crow's former identity? How that was the crowning on-screen narrative jewel in destiny up to that point? What I am saying is EVERY ARC THIS YEAR IS AS GOOD OR BETTER THAN THAT BEAT AND DESERVES AS MUCH RECOGNITION FOR THE ARTISTIC ACHIEVEMENT OF SO MANY COMPLEMENTARY COMBOS PACKED INTO ONE EXPANSION STORY.

If Shadowkeep was the first sign of symptoms, if Beyond Light was trying to irradiate the disease, if Witch Queen was a tug of war with scar tissue, then Lightfall is the world after recovery and making peace with what will Never Be The Same, and the home and family that has been changed forever but is still Your Home and Your Family. We don't stop fighting but we also don't stop loving and growing and caring.

One last thing for my fellow Sjur copium addicts out there: Sloane's retreat was mirrored and inverted by Eris's victory, so for the complementary-ness of the story to continue, Amanda's death and Crow's subsequent emotional anguish over losing the person he fought with but who also saw him for who he really is will need to be mirrored and inverted by SOMEONE who Mara fought with but who also saw her for who she really is and I expect you will agree this is SCIENTIFICALLY ACCURATE reasoning that Sjur's comin back home.

[luna-light-eclipse]

All very correct thoughts here Orb.

The Crown Run - Week Four

The grandfathers must fight to the death for the affection of their grandchildren.

Remember this isn't who would win. It's who you like more.

Please reblog if you vote!

[baede-6]

Not gonna lie hearing Cayde talk about being within the Traveler after he died hit me in the feels. Like the music when he says “Nothing, but not a bad nothing. A peaceful nothing.” And the way it swells when he says that Sundance was there. It made me feel sad and mesmerized 🥺

The moment that I knew he wasn’t going to stick around is when he has that convo with Ikora and he’s describing how the Traveler and Sundance shining so bright there feels like home and how he much he misses it, even more then he missed her and everyone else.

Right then I knew that his stay was only going to be temporary. He was at peace and he missed Sundance far too much for him to ever actually stay.

The writing and music for the campaign overall was top notch. A good story makes you feel something,and The Final Shape definitely did just that...multiple times.

Cayde was never going to feel right without Sundance. Our Ghost's are quite literally a part of us. Just look at Osiris and Sagira. There are times he still talks to her,reaches for her and she's not there. It would be like a piece of you is missing. A phantom limb. Knowing that something should be there,but isn't.

Imagine living centuries with someone who has always been there and suddenly...isn't.

Cayde knew what it felt like to be without a Ghost. So I'm sure it pained him to see his favorite to go through that loss as well. He wanted to see Sundance again, and we needed a Ghost.

Cayde giving us his Light so that we could live, so that Ghost could live,and so that he could see Sundance (and eventually us as well) again, was the best possible outcome. He got the closure he needed, WE got the closure we needed, so did the Vanguard and even Crow, got the closure he needed (and the forgiveness he needed from Cayde himself).

And now, like I said before, we get to take him with us. Literally. His Light, is now our Light.

Cayde's final act was one of love, and sacrifice. Although it was bittersweet, everyone won. It's probably the best hand Cayde ever played.

❤️♠️

[ahamkara-apologist]

I have been deeply indulging in the inheritance cycle as of late and I think there's so much fun to be drawn comparing guardians and riders. immortals that are more one being than two that share an irreplaceable bond. one can live without the other but they'll never be whole again after. both bound together both by fate and by the whims of things much larger and much older than themselves

guardians and riders you say?? boy do I have the fic rec for you:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41719347/chapters/104656839

Behold, Inheritance Cycle/Destiny 2 crossover fic that I've been rotating in my mind since I found it last year! Please for the love of god read it. I'm fucking insane about it but it gets criminally low comments despite the worldbuilding to build the two stories together being fucking outstanding, and all the character interactions being absolutely stellar. Also Keltoi writes combat like nobody else and makes the Scorn out to be absolutely, grotesquely terrifing rather than the dinky little raw chicken trash mobs that I view them as when fighting them in-game, which I've been thinking of again thanks to Revenant

But yeah, the ghosts and guardians being like dragonriders thing?? I've been obsessively thinking about how similar that dynamic is since I started the game, because I was a huge dragonrider kid growing up and the Inheritance Cycle was my JAM (and to a lesser extent, the Dragonriders of Pern). That very specific dynamic of platonic soulmates between two beings that are worlds apart and yet perfectly the same, and how that bond sets them apart from the the rest of the world and irrivocably changes each other yet it doesnt matter bc with them you're never alone id you're with your platonic other half... o u g h. Boi I die!!! Shit boi!!!!!

ONE THING I WILL SAY THO is that if we're drawing parallels to this dynamic, the guardians are the dragons and the ghosts are the humans. We're the big bad scary thing who can rain fire and hell down from above and destroy everything in our path, and our ghosts are our special little guys that we 'hatched' (were risen) for that keep us tethered and safe and heal our wounds and support us, and are so terribly, horribly fragile. That dragonrider comparison was exactly why I drew that thing where Osiris was a dragon and Sagira was a human, bc the thought of him as a magestic birdlike drake while she's his little firebrand rider tickled me too much not to (and also bc he makes for a very handsome dragon)

[glorious-kt]

O14 x Young Wolf Exo!Hunter

Some lovely smut

Soft and fluffy

@hidden-scarlet-whispers for your needs

Pinning Osiris to the bed was easier when Saint was also behind them to be another barrier. The older Warlock was unable to escape, not that the human wanted to anyways, not when a naked Young Wolf was sitting prettily in his lap and a naked Saint had a hand on his thigh and another on the Hunter’s hip. The three of them had stumbled into bed like this after Osiris had finally given in to Sagira's complaining about seeing Ghost and Geppitto. The other two ghosts missed their friend after all, and Osiris did miss his lovers. So he left Mercury and snuck into the Tower on Earth. Wolf found him first, because of course he did. His little spark was an amazing tracker as they were a scholar. Osiris was sure that if they hadn't been a Hunter, then Warlock would have come next.

"Pretty," Young Wolf clicked out softly, his voice just barely a whisper, the sound more glitchy than anything due to his low usage of his voice box.

Osiris flushed under the sharp green optics, swallowing as he burned under the pure lightning sitting in his lap. Rarely did Wolf ever speak, so to hear the younger Exo use his voice to call him pretty of all things... well, it did things to him.

"Yes, yes, he is pretty. Our pheonix, so bright and daring," Saint crowed out from behind Young Wolf, those purple optics shining bright with amusement and adoration, tugging Osiris closer by the thigh.

It caused the human to gasp in shock as the motion knocked Young Wolf further onto his cock. The younger Exo trilled from on Osiris' lap, the lights following the line of his body pulsing with the pleasure that zipped up the hunter’s spine. Osiris tipped his head back with a moan, closing his eyes as the smaller Exo rolled his hips with a sound of pleasure and laughter. Osiris missed the both of them. Missed this. The laughter and joy in their intimacy. The kind touch from the lightning in Wolf's touch. The cold shock of the void in Saint's hold. He missed the roll of Wolf’s hips against his, the feeling of Wolf taking him deep and gently.

He missed the way Saint was being so gentle, allowing their Hunter to set their pace before rocking forward into Osiris, sinking his member into the warlock with practiced ease. Their connection was like seeing a series of stars that made up the constellations that Young Wolf loved looking at. Osiris reopened his eyes with a cry as he looked up at the lithe Exo. He was full on both ends, pressing deep into Atlas and Saint pressing deep into him. The younger Exo made a noise in the back of his voice box, chirping and clicking happily as he leaned down to press a kiss to Osiris' forehead, rolling his hips to Saint's thrusts.

Osiris felt overwhelmed, tears sparking in his eyes as he reached up to hold on to Young Wolf’s thighs, needing a point of contact that wasn't just his dick. He could feel his two lovers ripping him apart with just their kind touches. The slow rolling pace, like an steady stream slowly eroding the dirt to make way for a river to grow.

"Wolf, Guardian, Wolf, please. Please, little spark, don't tease," Osiris begged out, grip tight on the Hunter’s thighs, Solar Light burning in his palms.

The Exo shushed him softly, leaning down further to press a kiss to his gasping mouth. Good timing too, as Saint picked up the pace right then, ramming into Osiris' prostate, turning the softness of the moment into somehting more rough and desperate. Osiris cried out against Young Wolf’s mouth, tossing his head back in pleasure, giving Wolf room to nip at his neck.

"We have you, my pheonix. Don't worry. We have you," Saint cooed as he dragged the two of them in closer.

Osiris could die happy. Sandwiched between his two lovers. Pleasure on all sides and the feeling of cold void and sparking lightning dancing along his spine.

Sagira wouldn't be happy, but his ghost would live.

[catthewriter1]

In the enchanted kingdom of Elaria, where the rivers sparkled with magic and the mountains sang lullabies to the stars, five princesses lived in a grand castle atop a hill. The castle’s turrets reached high into the sky, adorned with banners that danced in the wind, each representing a different virtue of the sisters.

Wynonna, the eldest, was a beacon of strength and wisdom. With hair as golden as the sun and piercing green eyes, she often found herself burdened with the responsibilities of leadership. Known for her fierce determination, Wynonna spent her days studying the ancient scrolls in the castle library, preparing herself for the day she would lead Elaria.

Twyla, the second sister, was the dreamer of the group. With her flowing silver hair and a spirit as vibrant as the moonlight, she often lost herself in the realms of art and music. Twyla’s melodic voice could turn the most mundane moments into magic, and she filled the castle with laughter, bringing joy to her sisters and the people of Elaria.

Yeona, the adventurous third sister, was a whirlwind of energy. Her dark, curly hair framed her spirited face, and her mischievous grin hinted at the trouble she often sought. With an insatiable curiosity, Yeona was frequently found exploring the hidden corners of the kingdom, her heart set on uncovering the mysteries of the world beyond the castle walls.

The fourth sister, Tera, was the healer. With gentle hands and kind brown eyes, she had a gift for tending to both people and nature. Tera spent her days in the castle gardens, nurturing flowers and herbs, drawing strength from the earth. Her calm presence offered solace to her sisters, reminding them of the importance of compassion.

Lastly, there was Sagira, the youngest. With raven-black hair and a wild imagination, she was a spark of energy. Sagira had a knack for storytelling, weaving tales of brave heroes and magical lands that enchanted everyone around her. Though she was small, her dreams were boundless, and her sisters adored her spirited outlook on life.

On a warm summer morning, the five sisters gathered on the castle’s balcony, overlooking the lush kingdom that stretched out before them. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the sun cast a golden hue over the landscape.

“Look at the festival preparations!” Twyla exclaimed, her eyes shining. “The villagers are setting up for the Harvest Festival. We should join them!”

Yeona’s grin widened. “I want to race the horses! I bet I can beat all of you!”

Wynonna chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re always so eager for adventure, Yeona. But we have duties to attend to. The council meets this afternoon.”

“But sister,” Sagira chimed in, her voice full of enthusiasm, “what if we can combine our duties with the festival? We could gather ideas for the kingdom while having fun!”

Tera nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a perfect opportunity to connect with our people. They’ve worked hard to prepare for the festival, and we should show our support.”

Wynonna sighed, knowing the council’s importance but feeling the pull of her sisters’ excitement. “Very well. We can attend the festival first, but we must return in time for the council.”

With smiles of approval, the sisters quickly dressed in their finest gowns, each reflecting their unique personalities. Wynonna wore a deep emerald dress that symbolized her strength; Twyla donned a flowing silver gown that shimmered like the moon; Yeona’s outfit was a vibrant blue, reminiscent of the sky; Tera chose soft earth tones, blending with nature; and Sagira wore a dress adorned with stars, representing her dreams.

As they descended the castle steps, the sounds of laughter and music filled the air, drawing them closer to the village square. The vibrant colors of the festival decorations and the joyous energy of the villagers enveloped them.

But as they entered the square, an unexpected hush fell over the crowd. The villagers turned, their faces a mix of awe and apprehension as they recognized their royal presence.

“What’s wrong?” Wynonna asked, sensing the shift in mood.

An elder stepped forward, her expression grave. “Princesses, a dark shadow has been cast over our kingdom. Rumors spread of a sorceress who seeks to steal our magic. We fear for the safety of Elaria.”

The sisters exchanged worried glances. This news darkened the festive atmosphere, but Wynonna felt a spark of determination igniting within her. “We will not let fear take hold. Together, we will uncover the truth and protect our kingdom.”

With newfound resolve, the sisters stood united before their people. In that moment, they knew their bond would be tested, and their destinies entwined in a way they had never anticipated. Elaria’s fate rested in their hands, and their journey had only just begun.

-

This is just a snippet of an idea! Need feed back on people’s opinions.

[the11tailedwrites]

Febuwhump Day 3: “Bite down on this”

Characters: Osiris, Sagira, Saint-14, Geppetto, The Guardian, Ghost

Takes place in an au where Sagira lived but Osiris was still replaced by Savathûn. Follow up of Day 2: Solitary Confinement

@hidden-scarlet-whispers some o14yw stuff :)

O14xYW

It was cold as Osiris lay in that dingy cell. The only part of his that wasn’t cold was his arm. It burned, his body working hard to fight against the infection that ate at his arm. He knew, despite everything, the wound wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. He also knew that it was getting worse. It had started leaking puss and parts of his arm had turned yellow with gangrene. He either needed medical attention or to find some way to pry Sagira out of that time lock sphere. He didn’t have the strength to do either. The shackle around his ankle dug into his skin, rubbing it raw. He wasn’t going to die. If Savathûn wanted him dead, she would have killed him already. Osiris…Osiris didn’t know why he was still alive.

What did she want from him?

How long had he been here?

Was Saint okay?

Was the Young Wolf okay?

He didn’t have an answer for any of these questions. He could only sit in a dingy cell, holding Sagira close and hope his lovers would find him soon.

The Young Wolf carved their way through the never-ending tide of Hive. With a brilliant glow from their crackling arc spear, the Young Wolf sliced a Hive Knight in half. A thrall lunged at them but was bisected by a void shield thrown by a legendary titan.

“They just do not stop coming,” called Saint, rushing to the Young Wolf’s side.

“This way,” said the Young Wolf, grabbing Saint’s hand and dragging him into one of the catacombs.

The Young Wolf could sense Sagira. She was faint and weak, but she was alive! If she was alive, then so was Osiris.

As they got closer, more Hive dove to intercept them, but the Young Wolf and Saint cut them down.

Sagira’s trail led them to a door, Hive Runes around the entrance acting as a lock. The Young Wolf solved the puzzle with ease and the door slowly opened. The weak light from Geppetto and Ghost illuminated a malnourished and beaten Osiris. The thick shackle around his ankle was surrounded by a small puddle of blood. Osiris’ left arm was a mess of infection and blood still weakly pulsed from the wound.

“Osiris,” whispered the Young Wolf before they rushed into the cell, their own safety completely disregarded.

Osiris stirred slightly and weakly looked up at the Young Wolf.

“Wolf?” he croaked, voice weak from disuse and injury.

“Hang on, my love,” whispered the Young Wolf as Saint dropped down beside them and began to work off the cuff.

The Young Wolf carefully examined Osiris’ injured arm. The skin was in the process of decay, the deep gash carved into his flesh was leaking puss and was coated in dried blood, and his fingers were a sickly black.

The Young Wolf cursed just as Saint snapped the cuff off.

“I will carry him,” said Saint.

“Any movement might cause him to cry out, we need to minimize any chance of Hive detection,” whispered the Young Wolf

“G-gag me,” whispered Osiris and both of his partners glanced down at him, stunned, “Do it!”

He coughed weakly, droplets of blood landing on his beard.

Saint and the Young Wolf shared a look before the Young Wolf pulled out one of their spare short capes from Ghost’s inventory and wordlessly tied it around Osiris mouth.

The Young Wolf rose and backed off, allowing Saint to pick up Osiris.

As he did Osiris cried out in pain, eyes squeezing shut. Something fell out of Osiris’ right hand and The Young Wolf was quick to catch it.

Sagira.

She was locked in some strange Vex contraption, her light signature weak but even. With all their time spent with Osiris, the Young Wolf cracked it open with ease. Sagira floated, wobbly, in the air and Ghost and Geppetto rushed to her side to steady her.

“Geppetto? Ghost?” asked Sagira, confusion in her voice, “What happened, where am I?”

“It’s okay, Sagira,” said Ghost, “How much energy do you have?”

“Enough to keep my guardian alive but that’s all…” she trailed off when she spotted Osiris, weakly staring at her from Saint’s arms, “Osiris!”

Sagira staggered through the air to her guardian as fast as she could before collapsing on his chest.

“We need to move,” said the Young Wolf, gently lifting Osiris’ left arm and placing it on his chest.

They used another spare cape to wrap Osiris’ left arm in a sling before moving towards the door.

The Young Wolf peered around the door, but spotted no Hive. They gestured for Saint to follow, and he obeyed. The Young Wolf tossed a smoke grenade into the ground and cloaked all three of them in void.

Though it took almost twenty minutes, they managed to escape the catacombs without detection.

They transmatted onto the ship and while Ghost inputted coordinates for The Last City, The Young Wolf stood beside Saint as the older Titan lowered Osiris onto the small bed. At some point during their escape, he had lost consciousness. The Young Wolf removed the gag and tossed it into a bin.

“You know how to use a healing rift?” asked the Young Wolf.

“Very little,” said Saint, “Osiris showed me during the early days of the city,”

“Sagira, can you expel the infection?” said the Young Wolf, glancing at the ghost.

“Yes, I think I can,” said Sagira.

She floated over to Osiris as Saint gently removed the cape sling. Sagira focused a healing beam into Osiris’ arm. While none of his wound healed, the blackened fingers returned to their normal shade, the infection vanished, and the gangrene faded away. The wound, however, remained and now that the infection was gone, it began to bleed again. Saint held a hand over Osiris’ arm and a weak rift formed under the arm. Once it faded, all that was left was a single deep mar tracing from Osiris’ wrist to his elbow. The Young Wolf pulled out their medical kit (after the Red War, they always carried it. You never know when you might be unable to heal yourself) and opened it. They put on the gloves and then the thread and needle and began to stitch the wound, with Sagira acting as a painkiller to make sure Osiris wouldn’t feel it. The Young Wolf cut the thread with scissors, grabbed bandages and wrapped them around the wound. Finally, they retrieved a sling (an actual one this time, not a cape) and fitted it to Osiris’ arm. Saint approached once they were finished and gently brushed off the blood from Osiris’ beard. The Warlock did not wake.

He didn’t wake until they had returned to the Last City and their house. He didn’t wake until many hours later.

Osiris awoke with a start and shot out of bed with a gasp. Pain shot through his arm, and he doubled over, clutching his left arm, gasping weakly.

“Osiris?” questioned a soft and familiar voice.

Osiris’ head snapped up as he gazed at the Young Wolf. Tears stung the corners of his eyes.

“My love,” whispered the Young Wolf, pulling Osiris into a gentle embrace.

Osiris trembled in their grip, trying to work out if he was dreaming or not.

“I am real,” whispered the Young Wolf as they pulled back, gently cupping Osiris’ face.

For the first time in their relationship, Osiris made the first move. His lips met the Young Wolf’s, gentle at first and then desperate. When the Young Wolf pulled away, they pressed their forehead against his.

“Saint’ll be back in twenty minutes, he’s finishing up Trials, do you want something to eat?”

Osiris nodded numbly.

The Young Wolf helped Osiris to his feet and led him to the kitchen. Osiris sat down on the couch in the living room while the Young Wolf began to prepare food.

Exactly twenty minutes later, the door opened, and Saint-14 strode inside. His gaze found Osiris, sitting on the couch and he lit up.

“My bird!” he exclaimed rushing to Osiris.

Osiris managed a tired smile as Saint pulled his face up in a gentle kiss.

“Missed you, my bird,” Saint whispered.

“What, no hello kiss for me?” asked the Young Wolf, voice mocking offense.

“Ah, of course, of course,” said Saint with a laugh before he walked to the kitchen and kissed the Young Wolf on the lips.

The Young Wolf snorted and smacked Saint’s shoulder when he stole some cheese before making his way to Osiris and sitting down next to him.

The dinner that night was the happiest for all of them in a very long time.

[silence-of-autumn42]

What languages might Osiris speak? We know that he at least speaks Arabic, given Sagira is an Arabic name, and he curses in what is apparently Hebrew in the opening cutscene of Curse of Osiris (I'll admit, I'd never actually heard Hebrew spoken before, so I presumed that it was also Arabic. But I was curious about what was said, and apparently it's the Hebrew equivalent of "dammit"). He talks to us in what is presumably English, although that's not necessarily the case, as we don't know what language is spoken at the Tower, really.

So what others could Osiris know? Well I suspect it largely depends on what time period he died for the first time in.

Given the languages we know he speaks, it would seem that he was from a relatively modern time period, after Arabic became the primary language in Egypt. However, his whole vibe is a lot more classically Egyptian, taking a lot of design elements from depictions of the ancient Egyptian deities. And his name is Osiris, after all. He's named after one of them. But that doesn't really explain why he'd know Arabic, since afaik, that only came into use in Egypt after the Roman occupation, at which point Egypt was largely Coptic Christian. My personal headcanon of Osiris' pre-resurrection identity actually comes from this time period, being Zosimos of Panoplis, a greco-egyptian alchemist active during Roman rule. If this were the case, he'd also likely speak Latin and Greek, although it still doesn't explain where the Arabic comes from.

It's likely he's a more modern day Egyptian with Israeli or other Jewish heritage, but I am a huge fan of Guardians from historical time periods, and that sort of late classical period is really unrepresented in the ones we have. I can live in hope that, if not Osiris, then someone else comes from this period.

[sapphic-scylla]

Short update to Sera’s story this season, but nonetheless, a fun little blurb to write. Enjoy! @ebevkisk

Depths of Sorrow

“No, I WILL NOT allow it. She will not spit her lies in our ears again.”

Saint-14 stormed out of the room. As Zavala, Saladin, and Sloane all departed, Sera took that to mean the meeting was over. Sera let Piper drift to her hand and transmatted them back to their apartment. Sera lived a few miles out from the wall in a complex in the Botza District. The area had recently reopened to the public and, since Sera had established herself as not only the Queen’s Mercy, but also as a deep personal friend to the Eliksni, it seemed only fitting that she lived mere blocks away from the Eliksni sector of the Last City.

Her brain was swimming and not because she’d spent the last few months in Titan’s methane seas, but Ahsa had spilled the news that perhaps the only saving grace to contend against the Final Shape was the resurrection of Savathûn, the Witch Queen.

Sera was an adept sifter of lies, but even still, it was hard to read a creature who had made her entire existence about being the universe’s greatest mystery. Savathûn had put Osiris in a coma and shredded Sagira. As well meaning as she may have been, Savathûn was still very dangerous.

Sera tossed her satchel to the floor and flopped onto the bed. She pulled up the sleeve on her arm to reveal the Hive rune that had been carved into her flesh several years ago and watched it faintly glow green just as it had ever since. Ice crawled across her fingertips as her emotions flared in upset distaste and confusion.

“The world does not hesitate to drop us further just as we seek to climb.” A voice said in the darkness.

Completely unsurprised, Sera gave a heavy sigh. “You know, Eris, you could just send a message.”

Sera could hear a faint smile. “And what would be the fun in that? Though, fun is not exactly the word that comes to mind when Savathûn’s fingertips come clawing at our brains once again.”

Sera sat up. “I figured you would be the first they called. What do you make of this? You’re one of the few that are aware of my predicament as well as this risk we have to take, what with us having to rely once again on the Witch Queen to keep us afloat?”

Eris gave a disapproving sneer. “Germaine and I have given much thought to this. We must have a knife to her throat at all times. We cannot afford any more missteps as far as the hive are concerned. Not only that, but now that Xivu Arath has begun making more bold moves, that Wicked Implement you carry bodes ill for our good favor.”

Sera looked over at the scout rifle that sat in the corner. Her hive rune had flared as she touched the weapon the first time.

“She would not have marked you for no reason, guardian. Savathûn does not make uncalculated decisions. Especially not in the realm of labeling the most prolific Ice Mage in the Vanguard who has been a thorn in her side since she woke up. Keep a trained eye out. You, me, and Germaine must remain vigilant. She will play our game this time.”

Sera gave Eris a hug. “I trust you. I don’t know how this will play out, but I can’t help feeling we have an advantage this time. She’s a snake, but even snakes can be trained.”

Eris gave a malevolent cackle. “You speak truths. Now, I must take my leave. Surely, Zavala will want to hear my opinions on this development. Remember, guardian. Knife to her throat.” And with that, she vanished.

Sera watched the empty space for a second as she felt the chilling power of Stasis swirl around her fingertips once more. Frost and crystals ran up her arm as she felt her anger well up once more.

She didn’t like it, but the Witch Queen was their only shot. However, she had felt the chill of death once and Seraphina would not hesitate to make her feel it again.

[jellidile]

Once Captain... Once Prince

So I already wrote Variks and Crow meeting, but what about Mithrax and Crow????

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

Mithrax is quiet as he looks at the Guardian standing only a feet meters away. There’s a deafening silence as Ikora and Saint stand beside him,

“I…” He begins, unsure of how to word his current thought, “often wondered who that Ghost that plays with the hatchlings belongs to.” He can’t quite figure out how he wants to feel. Ikora has already made up her mind, 

“If you don’t want to speak to him again after this, just say so.” She sounds conflicted and Mithrax can feel a wavering in her Light. But he understands perfectly why this is so; he has heard what Uldren did. Mithrax sees the ripples of his crimes, and the ensuing hurt everyday in the faces of many hunters, and especially Ikora. He can almost see it in-

“He goes by Crow now. Has very little to do with his… Past. He is a good bird, young and reckless… But good.” Saint has no anger towards the New Light and it eases Ikora and Mithrax’s tension, 

“He is little changed then, between lives. Though… he is no longer so devoted.” Mithrax notes, to which Ikora takes a deep breath. Mithrax places a hand on her shoulder, it offers little comfort to the Warlock. Still, some is better than none, 

“I’m trying to separate them but-” 

“It is hard for something so important to change… Ever since Osiris lost Sagira… Sometimes I still ask for him to do his little light tricks. It comes from a place of habit, but I think it stings all the same. People change Ikora.” Saint sounds sad, ever so slightly bitter. Ikora looks to him. Mithrax sees a shared pain he knows only from his own people’s eyes. The Kell sighs deeply, he has sworn to live in the present. No use dwelling on the past, 

“Crow, I take it?” The man turns and Mithrax holds back the urge to bow. It has been long since he’s seen an awoken he recognizes. Crow still holds Uldren’s face, the same glowing eyes that were both teasing and ferocious. But there is an exhaustion, and innocence marking his features. Crow smiles weakly, 

“Whatever you know about me- I’m… I don’t know that guy -er- me… Past me? Dead me…?” Mithrax nods, and stretches his arms, 

“As long as you keep protecting my people, we will have no issues.” Mithrax has heard of the way the new Light chased away some humans from the district who had less than good intentions. Crow smiles again, wider this time. There’s a genuine warmth in his expression and Mithrax nods. He can see the prince in Crow’s stare, and old memories begin to resurface. He shakes his head. Holding a hand to his chest Mithrax recites an old poem to himself, it acts as much like a prayer now and clears his throat, 

“Well. I must go. Be… Cautious of who you show your face to. Some of my people remember your face from many places.” Again Mithrax stops himself from bowing and nods in Crow’s direction. Ikora has seemingly already left as Saint is the only one standing a few feet behind. Mithrax begins to pass him by when Saint grabs his shoulder with a surprising gentleness, 

“Small steps my friend.” Mithrax grumbles holding his head, 

“Perhaps one day I will see him anew. Reborn under the will of the Light. But not today.” 

“Take your time, Mithrax. He is at the center of a nest he cannot remember weaving.” Saint seems to see something in Uldren- Crow. Mithrax doesn’t quite know what but he is in no mood to figure out as more memories surface in his head, 

“I am going to see my daughter.” He takes a last look at Crow. The guardian looks so small. Standing alone with only his ghost beside him, Crow is nothing like Uldren. Mithrax knows that and then- CRASH!! There’s a clatter of plates and Mithrax can hear Fikkis lamenting the uneven ground. But A jolt of fear or maybe recognition spikes up Mithrax’s back as Crow’s head turns toward the sound. His eyes narrow as he fixes his gaze towards the noise, and Mithrax can see Uldren in front of him ready to attack. Mithrax twitches, and Crow looks back, eyes wide and unsure, there’s no trace of Uldren’s piercing gaze. He waves awkwardly.

Mithrax leaves without another word.

[thefirstknife]

You are so incredibly knowledgeable about this games lore and I feel like I am going crazy trying to find the answer to this. Maybe you know? Has there ever been an actual answer to why Osiris was so much more powerful than the rest and why he got the visions? Why was he the travelers favourite?

Honestly nobody really knows! Some Guardians just happen to be a lot more powerful and a lot of it definitely has to do with the personal choice to improve; as in, becoming a student and actively learning! Osiris chose to study with the Iron Lords. I'd also assume a Ghost has influence as well: Sagira too was very powerful.

Some of it might also have a lot to do with the amount of time he spent perfecting his skills. With the time dilation of the Infinite Forest, Osiris has lived an unfathomably long life and therefore had more time than most to get better.

Curiously though, he was already high above other Guardians even early on in his life. By early Dark Age, before studying with anyone, he was already using Dawnblade as we know it today. I'm personally of the opinion that he may have invented this in the first place, as the Dawnblade sword is fairly similar to his aesthetics and he used it so early.

Also way before the Infinite Forest, he was famous for the way he fought at Six Fronts; with his reflections. He was able to produce golden copies of himself that enabled him to watch every front in the battle. He was also able to teleport between them to quickly change his position and help on multiple fronts. This is an insane level of skill comparatively with other Guardians at the time. We still have no idea where and how he learned to do this. Or how it's done. There's also still unknown situation with this ability because at one point he specified a difference between "reflections" and "echoes," implying they're two different things:

[u.2:12] Reflections, Saint. I have no need for Echoes anymore. [u.1:13] What do you mean? What’s the difference? [u.2:13] One is a manifestation of Light. The other… reserved for Taken Kings. Better suited for traversing the Sundial because of what lies at its core.

Bestie. What does this mean.

As for visions.... Nobody knows. He claims that his visions are just things he analysed using the Infinite Forest, but he made the prophecies before he went to the Forest. He was exiled for them! Some of them also deal with paracausality, in particular the one about the Traveler waking up at the end of the Red War, something that the Forest would not be able to predict. You'd think this is a writing mistake or something, but it's not. This discrepancy is directly referenced in the lore as weird.

Osiris treats this as "it just be like this" but I personally do think that he's the Traveler's specialest little guy. And Sagira was too. However, was he really and why? Ultimately we don't know.

[poorlytunedukulele]

Prompt 6 - Saintly Virtues

October 27, 2958; Infinite Forest, Mercury

“This didn’t take so long last time,” Sagira complained.

“Shhh,” Veera said.  “Let her focus.”

Azra leaned on the wall, her forehead resting on her curled fists.  The Vex simulation tingled slightly where her hands were pressed against it.

Saint-14’s Light was there, but it was so faint.  Osiris’s Light had been a constellation, a shining spotlight- Saint was just a twinkle in the mists.  She searched and searched but never quite found.  They’d been here for nearly fifteen minutes.

“If we were closer in physical proximity-“ Osiris started.

This time, Azra shushed him.   She drew together her eyebrows and breathed deeply, putting all of her focus on her Lightsense.  Behind her, the two Warlocks stood out in bright, obvious sensations – banners in the wind, the Sun like a spotlight, laser fire- volcano ash and neon lights.  The weight of their impatience pressed on her.  Osiris was impatient to finally reunite with his partner, Veera was impatient with Osiris’s interruptions.

Azra drew in another breath and dove deeper- she could feel Saint, like the shocking cold water from a spring, fields of lavender, the iridescent sheen of feathers, the wonder of the possibility of the spaces between the stars-

There- the source of it all, the epicenter.  Like a quiet, slow fountain.  It wasn’t the shape she was expecting, but it was there.

“Got it,” Spark said. They had coordinates.

Azra leaned back and opened her eyes- a little shocked to realize that she was glowing faintly. Untempered, unfocused light glimmered beneath the skin of her hands like she was Awoken.

“Interesting. Marshalling your Light helps you focus this sense?” Osiris asked.

“The Light reacts to its surroundings,” Azra said.  “More Light, stronger reaction.”

“Good point,” Osiris said. “But please- let us continue.”

Azra quelled her inner spark and unholstered her Mythoclast.  There was no saying what simulation they’d be walking into.  “We all ready?”

 -

Oh.  It was this place again.  A dark future (though one thoroughly averted now that Panoptes was gone).  Veera gasped at the picture of the Sun hanging dead in the sky.  Azra cast it a glance, but quickly moved her attention elsewhere.  The ground here was absolutely littered with dead Vex.  They were heaped in mounds.  Their frames choked the narrower passages between the rocks.

“This seems like Saint,” Sagira said confidently.  The Vex did seem to be generally more crushed and smashed than shot.  Those that did show weapons damage had been dispatched at close-range with a shotgun.

“This is old,” Spark pointed out.  The Vex chassis were half-covered with drifting sand.  Azra turned her gaze up the slope- it seemed the battle had progressed from here up and into a structure a few hundred meters away.  The Vex all faced that direction, reaching out and caught on their own piles of frames.

That was also where the Light felt the strongest.  Azra was losing hope that this story would have a happy ending.  The Light was uncollected, like a Sunspot, burning stubborn persistence.  It didn’t feel like a living person.

Ever-cautious, Azra went first.  The piles of Vex were so bad she had to jump over them at times, landing with a knee-jarring thud whenever there was rock under the sand.  The two Warlocks followed a bit more elegantly.  They traced their way along the wall until Azra found a gap big enough to slip through.

It was a beautiful sight- the Light gathered like fairy-motes, slowly twisting and dancing on unfelt breezes. Its illumination revealed more piles of Vex- there was hardly a clear space on the floor.  It also illuminated the body.

Saint-14 was dead.  His Light burned, but he was gone.  

“Is this some kind of simulation?” Sagira asked.

“No,” Azra said.  “No, the body’s real.  Vex simulation doesn’t react to the Light like real matter does.” He floated there, purple ribbons rippling.  The Vex had placed him in a position of honor, on a plinth, floating above the destruction below.

Osiris walked up the steps and then stood there, staring.

“I am sorry,” Veera said gently.

Azra caught her elbow before she could more to physically comfort the older Warlock.  “Let’s give him some space, yeah?”

Veera looked back to Osiris. He stood there, perhaps a bit stiff and stony, but not at all looking like someone on the verge of a breakdown.  But Azra knew that even if he didn’t look it, he was still feeling things.  The sour and sweet grief that was beginning to blossom made Azra’s heart clench.  

She tugged on Veera’s arm a bit more firmly and the Warlock followed.  They squeezed back through the gap in the wall and stood in the open, under the dead sun.  The view outside was upsetting now; Saint certainly hadn’t gone easy.  These piles of frames were from his last stand.

It wasn’t until they were clear from Osiris’s well of emotion that Azra realized she was feeling some loss of her own.  Well, not her own own.  Her Ghost was upset.

“His Ghost’s name was Geppetto,” Spark said quietly.  “She was a friend of mine.  Before I raised you.”

There was more than one person to grieve, here.  Azra didn’t have to say anything.  She just tilted her head until it bumped him where he floated.  

“We never got much chance, but… I think you would have liked Saint,” Spark said.  “He was so… good.  He was a good person.  He really cared about people.”

“I had considered that this might end in tragedy,” Veera said.  “It has been decades since anyone had contact with Saint-14.”  She stepped closer to put a hand on Azra’s shoulder. “Still, I am sorry it ended like this.”

“It hasn’t ended,” Spark said.  That was how he dealt with the grief, the despair- he found the bright spot in it. He found something meaningful.  He gathered himself up and made himself believe the words.  “We take everything they gave us and we give it back to other people.  His legacy lives on.”  Spark had been inspired by Saint-14’s bravery, his compassion, his good humor. And hadn’t he in turn inspired is own Guardian to those same ideals?  Hadn’t she used that to help people, to inspire them as well?

Their thoughts were interrupted by Osiris’s approach.  The Warlock was still stony-faced in shock.  He should have been prepared for this, too, Azra thought, but… it was hard when it was someone you loved.

Osiris held out a datachip, almost disdainfully.  “He left this.  I have no use for it.”

Azra took it automatically. She felt like she should say something- the man just saw the body of his lifelong partner, after all.  But all of the platitudes that came to mind were so… shallow.  He wouldn’t want to share his pain with anyone he wasn’t close with- trying to soothe that pain felt dismissive somehow.  It wasn’t her place.  

Azra settled on an accepting nod and a promise.  “You know I’m here if you ever need anything.  Anything.  I know-” her own voice caught.  “Andal was already dead when I got out of the Vault.  It’s just… I know.”  The pain was a unique one, altered but not dimmed by the distance.  Regret clung to the Light like a waterlogged shirt.

Osiris’s posture loosened, just a little bit.  Azra made eye contact with Sagira and raised her eyebrows pointedly.  Even if he needed help, even if he knew she’d offer it, would his ego let him call?

“We’ll keep it in mind, I promise,” Sagira said.  

Osiris turned.  Azra let him start back down the slope.  

“It seems a bit rude, does it not?” Veera murmured.

Azra shrugged.  “He’s a private person.  He’ll get all bristly if you poke at him.  If he wants someone to talk to… well, in all honesty, it probably ain’t going to be you or me.”  She considered the shape of him as it grew smaller in the distance.  “But at least he knows there isn’t pressure from us. Some people don’t deal with incessant badgering as well as I do.”

“Well then, what’s on the chip?” Veera’s Ghost asked.  “Why didn’t Osiris want it?”

Azra watched the old Warlock open a portal and step through it.  They had the coordinates, now, they could come back any time they wanted. She turned her attention to the drive Osiris had handed her.

Spark lit it up.  The main file on it was a weapon schematic.  “A gun,” he reported.  He projected a model of it for the benefit of the Guardians.  “The Perfect Paradox, his shotgun.”

Azra’s face scrunched thoughtfully.  “I… recognize this.”

“Saint-14 was purportedly legendary with his shotgun,” Veera pointed out.  “Have you seen it before?”

“No, like…” Azra turned the projection over in her hands.  There were a few differences, cosmetic mostly, but… “I designed this. My Pack had a gunsmithing contest once. Shiro won, naturally, but this was my entry.”  Sturdy, clean, no-nonsense, with a hooked stock and iron sights.  She’d crafted it to be as rugged as possible.  You could club a Minotaur to death with it and it still would never jam.

“Perhaps he found the design somewhere,” Veera suggested.

“I don’t see how,” Azra said.  “I never published it.”

“He had the gun before you were Raised,” Spark said.  “You’re right- it is the same model.  I never connected the dots before.  How did he get a gun you made before you were alive to make it?”

 -

"It's Praedyth's rifle," Azra explained. "He… left it here somehow."

"I was going to say it belonged to someone else," Ghost commented. "This is remarkably similar in design to the Exo Stranger's rifle."

Azra's eyebrows came together in confusion. "No, I recognize it. As far as I understood, it was a custom project. No duplicates."

Ghost spun and hit the rifle with another scan. "And I recognize it, too. I'm sure of it."

Veera spoke up. "So we have more impossibilities on our hands. Is that really a surprise?"

 -

Azra just shrugged and handed the data chip over to Veera.  “You take it. I still have my own copy of the schematics.  Besides, I’m not much one for shotguns.”

“What does this mean?” Veera asked.

Spark clicked a few times. It didn’t make sense- but then again, when did things ever make sense?  “Maybe, somehow, this isn’t the last we’ll see of Saint-14.”

AO3 Linky!