#sathona

[vfordii]

salvation lies in the deep...end of the pool

[nynehells]

The Endling

Had a lot of feels about Savathun & Riven during the Season of the Wish, a queen pulling strings while working with the (formerly) last ahamkara.

[sun-singer]

Inktober day 15: dream, featuring Oryx, Xivu Arath, Savathun, and the Osmium King

“So I start eating my dad. I bite huge pieces out of him and I claw him up. I eat his legs and I eat his arms and I eat his goggles and his eyes and he says, good, good, this is majestic and true.

But my sisters are still tearing up the road so I don’t know how to get back.”

[flowers-of-io]

“The Deep”

A redraw of one of my favourite pieces by Salvador Dalí, “The Sleep”, and my part of a collab with @synnthamonsugar for this year’s Spring Media Zine organised by @d2artevents! You can check the whole work and Otter’s pieces here, and the full zine here <3

[aghostsdestiny]

'Whether by chance encounter or not, if It sees fit to pursue you, no road is safe for you to be on.'

@finalityzine

[torobatl]

Do you think the Uluran had weed??????

[archentrope]

The sharp, Sharp, harsh hunger of a Worm. Scraping against the very soul. Aiat.

[onethousxndvoices]

we will say: young sathona, the end is coming.

[screenshot study]

commissions | shop | tos

[lillian-1st-maskarran-insol]

It’s so funny to me the big hive gods started out as little fragile things, with mortal emotions and whims.

Xi’Ro: You ever cracked open someone’s head?

Sathona: Have you ever even cracked open a book???

Aurash, on the other side of the ship: Y’all ever done crack?

[phthalology]

Let me tell you, little thrall, the reason why the Witness revealed itself to humanity at Mare Imbrium. 

It begins, as all things do, with the Hive. You may feel some shred of questioning shed on your arm. Did your wizard not just say this was a story of the Witness? Is the Witness not older than the Hive, and strange to us? Nevertheless, you are in our tunnels. The universe is full of emerald and onyx. Peel the shred of questioning off. 

Now, Savathûn did not know of the existence of the Witness, but she suspected. It was uncouth to say that something was pulling the strings of the Hive, being as the Hive were all-eating and left nothing but themselves behind. Still, Savathûn investigated secrets and unspoken things, and thought that the sword logic might be creating a throne just to harness the energy of an eternal vacancy.

Around this time, Crota’s brood took Earth’s Moon without even most of the fleet behind them, Sol’s citizenry running as low on their hoonish little spaceships as they did. 

Crota had ambition and bite and a certain blind devotion which Savathûn knew well.

After all, she had done so much good work faking it. 

Oryx was deep in the galactic center, finding treasures; Xivu Arath was in forever war with the Cabal Empire; Savathûn had been to Sol before and accompanied her brother’s brood as Crota took the Moon. And meanwhile, she had her own experiments, her own black-slab projects. Savathûn’s cunning arts untangled the DNA of the worms. It was heretical to slice those little gods apart, but she did it, and Nokris helped. Through this, she became fond of her nephew’s penchant for soul fire and pickling vats. Through this, she learned enough to ask the worm gods who their gods were.

They answered Rhulk, and the glaive with which he killed his father. 

This meeting of Rhulk and Savathûn before Crota’s brood had hardly scratched furrows in the Moon is the topic of another story. Finally, a victim higher up the chain answered My Witness. 

With this confession, that watcher turned a few of its eyes to the Hive. 

With a discerning eye for the sorts of injustices which caused both material and morale harm, the Witness set its sights on Savathûn’s pet project, Earth.

The child who had once been Sathona felt the universe coiling around her in static-fuzzed black tendrils of fear as she stood on a grand tombship at L2. Nokris skulked behind her.

And so did the Witness raze the Moon, upon which had formerly crawled Crota’s nearly-newborn brood, and upon which happened to be a few Guardian fireteams. The Witness began to enact the Final Shape upon the Moon for revenge against Savathûn, who had dared to investigate it and to lie to it, as she was wont. 

Come here, little thrall. This story is a secret. Did you know that? I am a confidant of Savathûn and I must practice my stories, practice my histories. I must test them in different situations and for different people, so that I get the words just right. But the Queen of Lies suffers few truth-tellers. No, don’t scuttle away. A Guardian or a Tormentor would have gotten you eventually. It’s statistically likely. Look. That hurts. Don’t bite. There --There. 

(This is a Destiny ten-year anniversary project. Context here.)

[tacticalgrandma]

Just thinking about Savathun fighting the Witness in the name of Sathona. Her shock and anger at the end of Witch Queen, learning that she and her siblings were lied to, that she should have never had to choose between the Light and her sister. That she has been deceived her entire godhood. Her fighting the Witness under the name of that scared, gullible girl is so, so good.

[sun-singer]

Inktober day 6: dive, featuring Xi ro, sathuna, aurash, the leviathan, and a needle

And the Leviathan loomed over them, its brow as huge all the continents of their childhood, its great array-fins crackling with the lightning of its life. Booming into the hull of the needle ship in a microwave voice:

[synnthamonsugar]

. . . . Savathun coming from Fundament . . . an ocean planet . . . writing an imagined backstory for Eris as a girl growing up on a river, as an accomplished swimmer who nonetheless lost her life in the waters as Sathona did . . . . . . . oh. Oh.

[faller-of-kharbranth]

Okay… Pinned:

I’m Malkah. She/it/that/fae, feminine terms.

You can also call me Lilith, Zora, Sathona, or Aurash! (Nicknames are fine!)

Use whichever one you’d like to refer to me by, or use them interchangeably, I don’t particularly care, to be honest. Kon kon.

All of them are Me.

21 years old.

Fell in Nimbasa.

Edit: I’m a Zork now! (Zoroark/Mimikyu, mostly Zork, Hisuian.)

I have a tail!!

I’m Shallahi @shallahi-and-snowflake’s other younger sister, so I’m a member of Bridge Four!! That’s a sentence that I didn’t think I’d say…

Am I also a middle sibling now?!

Also I think I just reverse-adopted @suddenlyauntiemaya as a big sister. (22 June 2024)

Also Konnie @abyssanon is also my sibling!

My girlfriend Dahlia (she/her) is a wonderful friend and a floofy werezork!

I’m also an Honorary Incursionist!

The Radiant Order that I think I’d be is probably a Lightweaver!! I took the test and got that…

Here’s my Trainer Card!

Rivka is my starter kit, and an absolute babey of a floof!

Harmoniah was my Saltid Galvantula, and is an adorable little bean! She’s currently living with the other Saltid Tikkitiks that came along with me, just outside the Center I work at!

Chiri’s my anxiety service ‘Mon!

Teru-Bozu is… a fairly quiet old man. He’s nice.

KZZKT!!

I’m Telamon! I live in her phone! I use they/them!

KZZKT!!

I sign my asks with -Malkah!! or -מלקה

HELLO!! I AM SATANAEL, A GIRATINA! I USE IT/SHE PRONOUNS, AND I’M A FRIEND OR SOMETHING TO THIS FUNNY FOX GIRL!!

BUT, it was formerly off due to far too many instances of HM: CUT being sent than reasonably tolerated. DO NOT DO THAT AGAIN.

No NSFW, please.

//No OOC anon hate. And don’t go too far with IC anon hate.

//that’s the hard rule.

Arcs:

• Arc: egg!! (Very light impromptu arc about a Hisuian Zorua egg.)

• arc: seekers of light (Very Persona 5-ish story very involved in the galactic prelude arc and PLA. prismatic return also winds into it a little.)

• arc: galactic prelude (sometimes heavily existential pre-Hisuiing long-term arc)

•arc: prismatic return (for Malkah-4, D2 Final Shape arc. Relies heavily on references/callbacks to various lore documents and also D2 story. Typical canon violence and heavy apoc and post-apoc warnings.).

Previous Arcs: arc: Castelia trip!! arc: bitter repercussions (HEAVY), arc: bitter keening (HEAVY).

//So:

Malkah here is a character rather heavily based on me but is decidedly also not me.

She is literally a trans-species Therian Zork-girl trying to live her life along with the general shenanigans of Rotomblr.

She wasn’t always this way though! She does have a past, character-wise, of being a self-insert faller, thus the tags, but she’s changed a lot since then!

Here’s her playlist!

Usual DNI applies.

PFP is by @/stereo-sys.

Background is by @/blaiddraws.

[xivu-arath]

Savathûn recalls a moment when she looked to the sky.

“Look,” says their father, the king. “The storm lifts.”

He has brought them into the orrery, its brass and platinum moons spinning around Fundament on many interlocking axes. Up the stairs to the swell of the dome where the telescopes, lenses, and listening instruments rest. They are old, older than seven generations of the Osmium Court, salvaged from another continent that had drifted close in the first year of the king’s reign.

Xi Ro, eager as always, runs to the winch, helping him open the dome’s eye for them all to look through. She does this even though the telescopes bore her, because moments when the king remembers his surviving children are rare. Rarer still for him to allow them close to his most prized treasures.

The dead worm has its own place here, set on a pedestal from where it seems to be watching.

Sathona is not bored, but neither is she sated (not like Aurash, who is already pressing forward to count how many moons can be seen). The Court is full of whispers these days, and Sathona does her best to hear most of them. Whispers of war with the Helium Drinkers, of the king’s negligence, of untrustworthy waters and worsening weather. Direr still are her dreams of brave, foolish Xi Ro crushed under rubble, Aurash swept away by a burning wave. What may come looms ahead, dark and not quite unknown, and the stars and moons are much too distant to matter when weighed against it. Whatever use to her is something that cannot be touched or swayed?

The orrery frustrates her as every discovery of her limits does. Beneath the mystery of it – just how old is it? Who thought to build it, and why? – lies the same taste of bitter air, a reminder that she is small and frail and meant to live a life she can barely count on both hands.

But when Aurash waves at her to take her turn, she still closes two eyes and peers up into dissipating clouds and an uncaring, glittering sky. Useless as these are to her, they are pretty enough. For that, and because they are all still together, remembered and alive, Sathona thinks to cherish this moment.

Savathûn does not cherish it. She forgets nothing. Every moment of her past is as it should be, a single gleaming instant that she can pin between her claws. But still, something (the warm surprise of trust from an uncertain parent, pushing Aurash’s shoulder for more space, flickering awe at a new curiosity well out of her reach) is lost.

It is a moment of synchronicity that reminds her. They are pruning away yet another civilization, and through secret and subtle means Savathûn knocks their binary stars from their seat, spilling the accretion disk out to envelop the nearest planets and moons. The swell of satisfaction that accompanies this is unexpected, and so she stops to find the cause.

Look how far she has come from that moment. Her father’s efforts seem small and futile now, while she can pluck every star from the sky. There might be some few, paltry things still beyond her grasp, but they will not remain so. She has lived longer than young Sathona could have envisioned. Of her siblings she is the wisest, the most prepared, and by far the most clear-sighted. Is this not everything she has wanted?

But –

Xivu has swooped down to drain the lesser star, and Oryx infests the heart of the greater with his blights. He is singing some awful dirge he picked up several systems ago and not yet tired of, and Xivu joins him with far greater enthusiasm than skill, until the pressure of their combined voices forces even their fleets to scatter from them. They don’t care, drunk and giddy on triumph and certainty.

Savathûn is quite sure she does not envy them their stupid, simple joy. This is not the first battle, nor even the thousandth, where she has watched them make fools of themselves amidst their slaughter.

But. She is not sated, and it gnaws at her more sharply than her worm ever has. Nothing that she would strain to reach for is here.

The lesser star gutters down to a dully flickering core, and the greater has been rendered a cyst through which the Deep can be heard. Savathûn finds this a tedious, predictable ending and turns away. Behind her, her siblings continue to laugh and kill and sing (terribly still).

If there is nothing here that she would reach for, then it is past time she look elsewhere. She remembers that glimpse of the sky once more.

Among those stars and shadows was one lying moon.