TYPE: Ghost Shell Recording

DESCRIPTION: Conversation

LOCATION: Tower

//AUDIO AVAILABLE//

//RECORDING FOLLOWS//

[1.1] What’s that?

[2.1] It’s a hat.

[1.2] You’re making a hat?

[2.2] Crocheting. Keeps the mind off things, keeps the hands steady. You don’t do anything like that? Y’know…create something? Instead of just destroy it?

[1.3] Buddy, when you’re as good at destroying stuff as I am, you don’t need much else.

[2.3] Right. Each his own, then.

[1.4] Gotta say, this is kinda surprising coming from someone who spends most of his time punching aliens. You don’t even have anyone to give gifts to.

[2.4] Don’t have to give ‘em away if I don’t want to. It’s more like - it’s more like I’m making armor. For things that I want to protect.

[1.5] That’s not going to stop a bullet.

[2.5] It’s a metaphor, you pylon. I thought Hunters were clever.

[1.6] I think the word you’re looking for is “pragmatic.”

[silence]

[1.7] It means sensible.

[2.6] I know what it means! Anyway, I crochet something for all the stuff I care about.

[1.8] Ah. I wondered about your collection of hat-wearing rocks.

[2.7] One from each planet. And now I’m pretty good at making hats.

[silence]

[1.9] And you - I mean, it makes a difference? Makes you feel good?

[silence]

[2.8] More’n that. It almost - it almost makes me feel alive.

[silence]

[silence]

[2.9] Here, it’s done. Happy Dawning - the hat’s for you. Make sure you keep your head attached to your neck.

Revenant

A Guardian with a Crota mask strapped haphazardly to her helmet bounded by, laughing, to receive a paltry handful of candy from Lord Shaxx.

“I despise this foolish festival,” Eris Morn mumbled. Beside her, Euclid-319 sat cross-legged on the ground, head buried in a book. He looked up as she started speaking, and Eris sensed a certain level of bemusement in him. The masked Guardian that had gone to pester Shaxx returned, walking up to Eris with her burlap sack and holding it out expectedly. Eris held out a box of raisins and turned her head to make defiant, terse eye contact with the visage of Crota before her. The Guardian stared back. Eris broke the staredown by turning her hand palm-side down and dumping the box of raisins into the Guardian’s bag.

The Guardian grumbled in irritation and strode off; she broke into a jog as she reached the stairs, and Euclid turned to watch her leave. “Candy won’t save you!” Eris called after her, but the Guardian gave no response and Eris turned with a huff back to her table.

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Tethers

500 word drabble for @ir-anuk!

Eris went to the court, just to see if he would appear.

It took longer than she expected.

A lump of wormspore grew from a skeletal body at the base of one of the statues. The thrall’s corpse was missing a chunk of its chest and bleeding glowing green spores. It was hardly a sprout, best left to rot and grow. She could return to pick it another time, but in such plain view it was more likely one of the Guardians would find it. Snatch it up before it was fully ripe and cart it off to her in exchange for some praise or a scrap of cloth with the emblem of her armor stitched into it. Those who visited her were always gleeful for something to be worn, something to show off. A flaunting of their allegiance.

She was testing a different allegiance today.

Behind her dragged a blade, ripped from a solitary Knight earlier. She’d walked the shadows as she did in the pit, testing the strength of her scent and her skills.  She launched out from behind a buttress, struck for a joint in the armor and wrenched the blade away, before giving it a hefty swing and sending the Knight falling from its lookout perch. It was satisfying, so she kept it.

She carried it loosely to the court, where a tickle in her mind begged her to compete, to test, to feel young and powerful again. But the hole in her confidence where a Ghost once sat was brittle and broken around the edges. So, she lingered still when his presence swept up behind her, like a cloak being draped around her shoulders.

“Came just to see me? Or to beg advice?” Today he sounded like astral static, like the bellows that echoed high in the Dreadnaught halls, something that sounded loud but at a great distance, so its reception was comparable to no less than a whisper.

“Observing.” She tutted, making a show of disinterest. She paced to the edge of the altar, looked down on the hallowed ground, it’s gaseous waves of causality pouring like a river of fog off into the Dreadnaught’s depths.

“Breathtaking isn’t it? The sink of all the tithing your Guardians do. I could show you where it goes, but that would take some sacrifice…” He peels off her shoulder and his words trail away but she is aware of him still, circling and wraithlike. A shark present only in her consciousness, a pressure on her mind that none of her eyes can catch.

“Ikora is not that curious.” She admonishes, and continues to stare down at the mist. It wouldn’t harm her, who was no longer outside of death. She could be again…

It had taken him some time, yes.

But when he did arrive, she knew. As much as he spokes of being tied to the lines of causality, the strings of the astral plane. As much as he preached his love of the things beyond – and of the whispers he has heard out there- he has not yet cut himself loose to drift among them. He remains tethered to this plane, hanging by a thread he could choose to cut at any moment, but will not. A single strand of silk.

And she is the spider.

Destiny: Grace in their Making

Ikora/Shaxx trade for @jencforcarolina. Some snippets of long lives.

Once-Lord Shaxx caught Not-Yet-Vanguard-Ikora watching one of his own matches once, an early one when he was testing the Crucible. When he was testing it as an excuse to show younger Guardians what he could do, he corrected himself, and stood beside her.

He could see the tablet over her shoulder, while on the screen a younger Shaxx pulled another Titan into a bear hug. Ikora smiled over her shoulder. The Titan dropped his weight and tried to unbalance them both, but Shaxx hit him and that was the end of the match. Ikora looked startled - there was a slight arch to her eyebrows when she was startled, unmistakable - and Shaxx felt like he was the one who had been hit. He boomed out some platitude, because he could do that on autopilot, and had to remind himself not to run.

“That Warlock’s gone in by herself.”

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@ir-anuk I hope this is satisfactory “ Eris and Toland visit Savathun’s court on a tense and deadly diplomatic mission and wear fancy Guardian robes and Hive armor and too many eyes and they are curled-lipped and resplendent”

Because man was it fun to draw. Especially playing with effects. Thanks for the great inspiration I got a lot of good practice out of this!

Destiny: As Autumn or Darkness

Dry orange leaves on the tiny windowsill, cold wind, a brown moth crawling in the predawn. Eris Morn wakes up smelling ozone and leaf-litter. Festival of the Lost: the time when the broken are so close they can almost be seen, when the dead walk beside the dead on the edges of the towers.

She is surrounded by memory now, clotted with it, half-asleep in the haze. A fall of blue-black shadow might be Eriana sitting on the edge of the bed; the smell of the crushed leaves might be Sai. Eris turns over and relaxes, the shift of the taut skin on her forehead a sudden pull.

The cell, big enough for a bed and a desk and cabinets but close and indistinct in the cold, blurs toward day-blindness as the light filters in. Oh, how sharp-edged everything had been in the dark! Toland is a shadow beside her.

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[Destiny] When Someone Dies Abroad

It’s Cayde – of course it’s Cayde – who leans in without knocking or granting the barest courtesy of a Ghost-to-Ghost murmur of warning. Just sticks his head through the door with fingers still clenched around the handle and cuts his voice through their conversation like an arc-lit knife.

“Andal,” he says, “you are gonna want to see this.”

At Andal’s side, the young Hunter who’s been cut off mid-sentence mouths a halting two syllables more before he lays an apologetic hand against her elbow and steps away. He doesn’t like how this will look, has always taken pride in playing favourites only as a man and never as a Vanguard, but it is because of the man’s friendships that he knows Cayde’s words may say want but the epileptic strobing at his throat is saying need and now and that is not something to be lightly disregarded.

Out in the plaza, a crowd is gathering while making an attempt to look as though they are anything but, which amounts to a scattering of strategically placed Guardians and enough tension in the air to carry the electric shiver of a storm. Andal knows, immediately, that there has been a loss. Gulls flocking at a single point over the ocean speaks to blood in the water, a cloud of crows turning circles in the sky say someone is dying below, and this uncertain, angry swirl of Guardians paints its sad story in the same symbols.

There is no body splayed across the floor, however, just a figure standing in the shadows of a balcony. Back very nearly to the wall, the corridor to the northern end of the Tower on one side and the open sky past the railing on the other. He can pick the signs on a single look: A coiled, balanced stance. Small turns of the head to check blind spots. Ghost out of sight, carried close. A Hunter’s training and all the unease of the hunted.

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A Ghost-compiled summation of observed behaviors and activities over the course of one cycle in the company of a Risen Gunslinger.

[Entry 1.1] Guardian has been standing completely still in Tower plaza for approximately 3 hours. By my count, Guardian has not slept in 36 hours.

[Entry 1.2] Guardian spent fifteen minutes repeatedly jumping off of Tower. Hence, ten minutes of near-constant Ghost revival, punctuated only by a single visit to Eris Morn. Eris refused to dance with Guardian.

[Entry 1.3] Guardian spoke briefly with Cayde-6 while crouched on Vanguard table. I could offer him no explanation.

Guardian returned to orbit; set course for Mars.

[Entry 1.4] Guardian encountered another Gunslinger while on patrol. The two attempted some kind of synchronized handshake or greeting for the better part of five minutes without speaking. I do not believe they succeeded in their timing.

[Entry 1.5] Both Guardians spent one hour attempting to kills Vex Hydras with nothing but throwing knives. Succeeded. Admired each other’s cloaks.

Guardian returned to orbit alone; set course for Luna.

[Entry 1.6] Guardian spent one hour repeatedly trying to jump over the Hellmouth while riding Sparrow. Did not succeed. Guardian has not slept in 42 hours.

[Entry 1.7] Guardian received assassination bounty from Hunter Vanguard Cayde-6. Danced upon receipt; shot several rockets into the sky while spinning in circles. 

[Entry 1.8] Guardian has grown strangely quiet. Has been transmatting various weapons and armor for several minutes.

[Entry 1.9] Guardian has equipped gauntlets crafted from the bones of an extinct creature. Spent 45 minutes adjusting color scheme of armor. Seems quite fond of appearance; asked me for several image-captures. Complimented her own cloak several times. 

[Entry 1.1.0] Guardian abruptly re-summoned Sparrow, rode Sparrow into depths of Hive temple. Did not dismount Sparrow. Sparrow destroyed due to repeated collisions with sentient and natural obstacles.

[Entry 1.1.1] Upon reaching Summoning Pits, Guardian attempted to kill Hive Abomination with sidearm. Failed.

[Entry 1.1.2] Upon Ghost revival, Guardian managed to single-handedly annihilate Hive Abomination with the combined power of the City’s finest weaponry.  Proceeded to dance on corpse of eliminated foe. 

[Entry 1.1.3] Guardian spent approximately one hour shooting walls of Hive tunnels, attempting to spell rude words.

Guardian returned to orbit, set course for Tower. 

[Entry 1.1.4] Guardian spent 5 hours attempting to persuade Commander Zavala to read lewd/inappropriate Fireteam names over Tower PA system. Guardian has not slept in 55 hours.

Guardian returned to Orbit. Set course for the Reef.

[Entry 1.1.5] Guardian spent seven minutes crouched behind Petra Venj, trying to hide from other Guardians. Obtained bounties from the regent. Leapt to her death in apparent celebration.

Guardian returned to orbit. Set course for Venus.

[Entry 1.1.6] Guardian singlehandedly killed Stirok, Banner of Oryx. Proceeded to dance on corpse of eliminated foe. 

[Entry 1.1.7] Guardian lost consciousness [slept?] for ~30 seconds while dancing; jerked awake screaming, related a description of a “Giant, bottomless mouth” attempting to devour her.

Guardian returned to orbit. Set course for Taken Dreadnought. 

[Entry 1.1.8] Appears to be in a bad mood. Refused to speak with me. Spent duration of journey in silence, stroking bone gauntlets.

[Entry 1.1.9] Guardian descended into depths of Dreadnought. Grim of aspect. Has repeatedly refused comm contacts from Vanguard. Seems determined.  Guardian has not slept in 62 hours.

[Entry 1.1.1.0] Guardian has utterly destroyed legions of Hive thrall, several minor priests, and a Coven Mother.

[Entry 1.1.1.1] Guardian has discovered apparent target: Hive Priest.

[Entry 1.1.1.2] Guardian has dispatched said target using only her boot-knife. Did not cease stabbing corpse of creature until long after it had expired and her armor was covered in gore and ichor. Ignored my attempts to drag her away - too busy laughing. I returned to stasis in protest. 

Guardian returned to orbit. Set course for Tower. 

[Entry 1.1.1.3] Guardian repeatedly asking me “What I just said.” I have not said anything to her. She seems distracted. Has not slept in at least 68 hours. 

[Entry 1.1.1.4] Guardian spoke briefly to Hunter Vanguard while dancing on table. Returned to Tower plaza.

[Entry 1.1.1.5] Guardian has been staring into the sky without blinking for one hour. Guardian is muttering to someone who is not me.

[Entry 1.1.1.6] Guardian refuses to sleep.

Cats

(this was a dumb idea i had and spent way too much time on) [~1500 words]

He couldn’t believe it.

Catching a Guardian alone was rare. Catching one with its guard down was almost unheard of. Catching one unarmed may as well have been impossible. And he’d managed to do all three.

He blinked hard and scrubbed his eyes with one hand – the Guardian was still there; its weapons were still there. He huffed happily. This could be his ticket to a promotion. It would be easy enough to take out the lone warrior and take back its Light companion as a prize. Sure, it hadn’t been his intention when he’d left the wall, but he could spin the story however he wanted. What the others didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

He crept closer to the edge of the plateau, staying alert for any sign of awareness from his prey. The Guardian was still staring at one of the decayed shells that littered the ground outside the wall, occasionally leaning one way or the other. He sighted down his rifle and waited – the Guardian was partially behind the shell and he wanted a clean shot.

They bent down, leaned to the side and suddenly dashed forward. He dropped to the ground thinking he’d been spotted, but the Guardian simply ran around to the closer end of the shell, turned their back to him and dropped into the snow. Odd behavior, even for an already odd enemy.

He frowned, curiosity piqued and began to creep closer. He would still kill the Guardian and get his prize, but first he wanted to know what they were doing.

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Reminiscences, In Dark Places

He first drew her attention at the errant twitch of a dormant shadow.

Eris Morn’s lips twitched; it was almost a smile in the way she was almost a whole being. The motion- the slightest flicking of the fingers of the shadow that listed lazily out behind her in the strong light of the Cabal incursion’s lamplights- was undoubtedly meant to come off as a mistake, or a miscalculation. Something Eris was not meant to catch, but had anyway. But she wasn’t stupid. She’d become aware of him tailing her small contingent of Hunters and Warlocks through the Dreadnaught the moment he’d first infected her shadow with his foul hivestench. She knew him well enough. He would never be so careless as to ‘accidentally’ draw her attention.

He was just getting bored of being ignored.

“My hood doesn’t have ram’s horns.”

The chuckle was dark and sinister; it rolled across the entire room, microscopic fungal cilia in the walls rippling and the tumbling rattle of the recon team ahead of her unlocking the next door. There was wormspore sprouting maliciously from the corpse of a long-forgotten Something not ten feet away, and Eris saw her shadow’s arm reach out as if to brush the luminous stalks. Chillingly, they rippled in response.

It wasn’t really her shadow.

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Scream

Atlas hates patrolling at night.

She hates the way the air turns cold, how it seeps into the cracks of her armor, the incessant whistling of the wind as it blew against her hunched figure, trudging into the night.

She hates the glow the moon casts on her surroundings, its dull brightness unnatural, almost metallic against the murky depths of the sea beside her.

She hates how everything seems magnified: every step she takes is a crack of thunder, every rippling shadow is a Stealth Vandal, waiting for the right moment to strike.

But most of all, she hates the screams.

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The Firestorm Legion

A collection of Guardians, mostly Strikers, with spattered Sunbreakers, Susingers, and Stormcallers. Hunters and void users are rare, due to the pure insanity of the Legion’s combat.

It’s a loosely formed group. They don’t often interact with each other outside of battle but some who become friends do form fireteams. When the City is threatened, however, and the Commander calls, they become the City’s first line of attack, while the rest of humanity’s force forms a defense.

The Firestorm takes their ships into combat, then throw themselves from the hatches, burning, into the fray. They sow chaos and disorient, and often die.

They’re the craziest damn nut jobs in the Tower and damn well proud of it.

[Destiny]  the world, the stars, and you

Fandom: Destiny (game) Rating: G Characters:  Cayde-6/Andal Brask Note: Short Andal Brask character study, some speculation. 

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Destiny: Infinite Ascent

Kass saw one Sparrow drop out half a second after the race started, but she was already angling toward the first gate, and slammed her heel down.

She made the turn, hit the gate. The racers clumped together, almost knocked knees until the first big drop where two cut close to the wall, the engines screaming in her left ear.  The rest was a loud, continuous wash of engines, jostling. A struggle not unlike the one the Guardians undertook for the Traveler, Kass thought as she crossed the finish line still in the pack. Rougher, though, less noble - and a little boring.

The one who dropped out was Euclid. She recognized the solitary Warlock from the Tower, where their mutual friends shifted in and out of Eris’ orbit and each other’s; he was staggeringly strong when he pointed in the right direction. Now he shuffled along near the track, watching people dismount and bicker.

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Unblinking

Fandom: Destiny (Game)

Characters: Eris Morn

Rating: T+

Warnings: Descriptive panic attack

Summary: Eris feels so much. Too much. All Eris ever wants is to cry again.

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Sunbroke

Destiny fic- 627 words

What are dreams but memories that are perhaps not our own?

More of my Destiny fics here.

She had a pale hand, light and pinkish and when the sunlight shone through it became red. The sky was golden, alight with a brilliant sunset and it felt simultaneously right and alien. She was tending to a garden on a rooftop in a large city, the greens and browns tinted reddish with the fading light of day. She could feel the cool dirt between her fingers as she pressed it down around the roots of a seedling. It would become a flower in a few weeks. But some thought in the back of her mind told her it would not make it that far. The thought did not bother her nor give her pause. It was merely a whispered fact, a truth as true as the dirt under her fingers, which was a lie.

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