#botza district
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Botza District garden update. In tears!!!!!!! How it started.
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Destiny 2: The Quarters
#destiny 2#the eliksni#eliksni quarter#botza district#destiny 2 earth#earth#the last city#season of plunder#destiny 2 season of plunder#bungie#destiny 2 pc
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Spider has been receiving subtle hints from his neighbors in the Botza District, suggesting new ways for him to serve his community.
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Fanfic: Cynosure
Or, another stream-of-consciousness Thane POV lol
[Read on AO3] - Rated E for EXTREMELY SPICY TIMES
Pairing: Thane/FShep | Rating: 18+ | Words: ~2900
The air is thin between them, but it’s perhaps the only time he doesn’t feel like he’s dying.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
He’s quick to volunteer for the trip. A supply run to Omega - it’s not where he’d imagined she would spend her credits. Shepard shrugs when he asks her about it. “Council said I had to keep operations in the Terminus systems.”
There are other, better markets to supply a ship, but he does not press her for more.
Not two cycles after he shakes Shepard’s hand in the Dantius towers, the quiet isolation of space is already starting to weigh on him. He hasn’t been off Illium in some time, and Omega, dangerous as it may be, gives him an odd feeling of nostalgia. The air is stale and heavy, the streets are stained with poorly-washed refuse that sticks to his boots as they patrol the markets. In some ways, it’s easy to appreciate how blatantly this station flaunts its identity. The same seedy underbelly as Illium, stripped of all preamble. Beneath the heavy years of battle sleep, operating in this environment feels easy. He falls in step behind Shepard, alert and at the ready.
It’s too soon to tell if her attitude is confidence or naivete, but in any regard, the time spent with her is exactly the plethora of intel he’d hoped it would be. Words exchanged with strangers are direct and purposeful; her negotiations frugal, but fair. Her weapons are holstered, but cleaned and ready. Most interesting to him, however, is her body language. Shepard has the gait of a person well adapted to low-gravity, but the muscle of an earthborn human. Armored though she may be, she seems relaxed.
Overshadowed by the ludicrous rumors that she’d died for two years, she’s a walking contradiction, and a distracting one at that. Despite his attention to their surroundings, he finds himself watching her as often as he can allow. So it goes as she engages with a Batarian shopkeeper deep within the Botza district.
Ammunition and weapons. Sanitary supplies. Spare parts. Mods and materials. The shopkeeper - her name is Ubresk - offers them a bulk discount. Shepard refuses.
“Won’t need it when I’m dead,” Shepard says nonchalantly.
The shopkeeper raises a pair of brow ridges. “Planning to off yourself with enough supplies to fuel a warship?”
Thane’s world is zeroed in on the two of them. Shepard leans in and passes her omni-tool over the kiosk with a shrug. “Stealth frigate.” Ubresk’s four eyes are sharpened with unanswered questions, but Shepard won’t meet her gaze. “Lambda-2 docking bay. How quickly can you have it delivered?”
“About two hours.”
Shepard flashes a smile and pushes her hip off the counter. “Appreciate it.”
They shake hands. "I'll give Aria your regards."
And as though she did not have his full attention already, that is a surprise. Whatever Shepard's relationship with the infamous Aria T’loak, clearly, her confidence is not misplaced.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The trip passes without incident, and they board a taxi back to the Normandy. Watching her stare out the simulated windows, he allows himself a small comment.
“Far be it for me to interject, but I thought human crews employed requisition officers?”
She glances at him. “We’re not an Alliance operation.” And then she seems to think for a moment, before adding, "Besides, I get to bleed Cerberus dry.”
That earns her an authentic huff of amusement. “Fair enough.”
“We have some time to kill, you need anything while we’re here?” A grin crosses her face. “The Illusive Man’s buying.”
He takes a moment to consider and, ironically, lands on the same logic she’d expressed not long ago: “Won’t need it when I’m dead.”
“Hah,” her gaze returns to the window. “Suit yourself.”
And then her eye catches on something - the glowing neon perimeter of Omega’s Chuvost Quarter.
“Is that the red light district? Never understood why we couldn't have something like this on Arcturus.”
He blinks, processing her statement, but she doesn’t seem to mind his silence. Instead, she offers up a modicum of clarification. "Busy life. Relationships were more trouble than they were worth. Would've been nice to get off and get going."
An intrusive thought jolts through him.
Gods willing, he wants to be the one to change her mind.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The gods, as it seems, may yet smile upon him.
It's true that he hasn't worked closely with many humans, but of the ones he's known, Shepard outshines them by a mile.
Nearly always, she retains her characteristic mission-forward attitude. But now and again, she allows him a glimpse behind the curtain. And slowly, he begins to know her as a thoughtful but troubled individual. Her death, he comes to learn, was not a fallacious rumor. And the more he thinks about her, the more he wonders if he was not brought to her company by the will of Kahalira herself.
He is eager to accompany her strike forces, both on and off her personal squad, if only for the chance to debrief with her. To watch her work, and wonder over her.
By chance, one evening, they take a meal in the mess together. She even seems to enjoy their conversations, further driving his thoughts toward her, until he finds himself watching her not only to learn of her character, but the rest of her as well.
Short, blunted fingernails, scarred hands, strong arms. The neat angle of her jaw, the pale freckles across her cheeks. Air-wisped strands of hair that shift across her brow as she turns to him with laughter in her eyes, sandwich dangling from one hand. His dry humor seems to delight her.
He smiles.
She is distracting. He wants to know what her skin feels like, wants to hear what desperate sounds she might make in his arms. If she notices this, she does not care. By now it's evident: even on a simply professional level, she trusts him.
To return to the solitude of his quarters feels more and more difficult after every mission. Night after night, he entertains the idea of inserting himself into her personal space. For an unknown number of cycles, he has resisted the urge. But on this night, he succumbs.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It feels dishonest, to hide such desire behind a contrived moral dilemma. Thane is many things, but he does not consider himself a liar. Still, Shepard allows him entrance to her space with a smile.
True to her nature, she listens and validates. Gives him sound counsel, and directs him toward valuable resources. He listens to remember, because truly he does want her input on this non-urgent matter, but the true reason he is here is for any crumb of connection to her.
She's dressed simply: a dark hooded sweatshirt and a pair of standard-issue battle dress pants. Her posture is relaxed - almost vulnerable. He watches the way she moves, the soft twist of fabric around her body, the barely audible clink of dog tags beneath her shirt. His eidetic memory will feed him these visions of her, and the baser urges of his mind will imagine them sliding off her, revealing the forbidden expanses of her soft, human skin. It's difficult to ignore that her office is directly adjacent to her sleeping quarters. He tries not to linger on the thought of pushing her into the impeccably made bed just a few feet away.
Their conversation concluded, she stands to bid him goodbye.
He stands to meet her. Lingers beside her.
And endowed with Amonkira’s courage, he leans in to give her a simple kiss.
Their lips connect, just for a moment, and he pulls away to bid her goodnight. But when he meets her eyes, he finds more than just surprise.
Desire.
And in seconds, this simple gesture becomes a wildfire.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
She isn't forceful - not quite. Shepard has the quiet strength of a woman who has adapted to authority. She asks with a simple push and pull, requesting but nearly expecting him to follow along as they undress one another.
Before long, she's pushing him down onto her bed, climbing into his lap, gripping his chin, and stealing the breath straight from his mouth.
The air is thin between them, but it’s perhaps the only time he doesn’t feel like he’s dying. The heel of one palm digs painfully into his chest and he winces, but rolls his hips up into her regardless. Nothing has ever felt better than this.
Her legs are long and lean on either side of his hips, the naked heat of her grinding along his length. He's not inside her - not yet. She rolls above him like waves, kissing him with her cunt, panting with every pass of her pearl over his coronal ridge. It's the sweetest torture. The wet heat between her muscled thighs feels like the only thing that might save him from himself. Desire grips him like a vice and brings him to his knees.
With desperation on her tongue, Shepard groans into his mouth as she walks him along the edge. He can taste how close she is, can feel it in the way her splayed fingers twitch against his back. Her thighs shake.
"Fuck," she whispers. "I'm-"
It doesn't matter that this memory will never fade - he's not ready to leave it. Not ready to part with this image of his Siha, his angel, with a blush spread wide across her chest, her mouth gasping against his, her body trembling as though decades of discipline and rigor were not enough to prepare her for the way she will crest this wave in his arms.
With the last shreds of rationality he possesses, he grips her thighs hard. His fingernails leave crescent-shaped divots in her flesh, forcing her to slow, holding her just shy of the contact she’s chasing. She pitches backward as he bucks against her, tipping her balance in his favor. In moments he's gained the upper hand, rolling them both, folding her over and back until he is atop her.
All she can offer is a surprised gasp, her eyes fixated on his as he pushes her thighs back, back, back, until she's well and truly open to him. Shepard's knees settle in a wide spread, the gleaming jewel between her legs laid open before him. In this position, he can easily overpower her, but that was never his goal.
"If you wanted to fuck me, you could have just said so." she pants out.
"Mmh," is all he offers, taking himself in hand and drawing the tip of his cock down her seam. "Indulge me, Siha."
And then he’s sinking inch for precious inch into her depths. The heat of her makes his ears ring, his vision blurring around the edges, and then he's hilted deep inside her, wrapped in the molten silk of her body.
Her voice breaks, caught in the back of her throat.
"Fuck."
All he can do is echo her sentiment, a groan pulled from deep within his chest. If he's lucky, he'll make her crazy before he loses himself.
He paces himself. Allows his mind to wander for the fleeting chance it might hold him over. Beneath him, Shepard is alive with motion. Her body jolts each time their hips meet, arms gasping and shoving the sheets like each thrust is too much to bear. Her head tilts back, sapphire light gleaming off the sweat beaded on her throat.
In, breathe, out, breathe, in, breathe, out - over and over, until his heart measures the seconds between each deep thrust. She claws at him, urging him closer. Her legs are heavy as she attempts to leverage her hips into him. But strong as she is, he holds the advantage. Thane digs his thumbs just behind the jutting edges of her hips and holds her down. With Arashu's mercy, he may hold out just long enough to make her scream.
"Christ," she bites out. "Fuck me."
To this, he relents with an inward smile quickening his pace just enough to satisfy her for the moment. Shepard was never the patient kind. He burns with the need to take her to the edge of reason. To show her pleasures she could never hope to feel without a partner devoted to the task. To drive her to madness second by second, until she aches, truly lost beneath his hands.
She reaches for herself, as he knew she would, and he snatches her wrist, kissing her fingertips one at a time. When she squirms, he takes them into his mouth, sucking at her middle and ring fingers as though she were a drell, letting his split tongue drag over the distinctly human divide between them. Brilliant green eyes watch him beneath sweat-kissed strands of hair, lush lips parted in surprise.
Halfway to undone, he thinks. Gods as his witness, he will love her so senselessly that she weeps for more.
He sets her two fingers back atop her mound and watches as she begins to stroke herself, knowing his saliva will do untold things to all the little nerves between her legs. His hands settle around the hard softness of her pressed-open thighs as he settles into an easy rhythm.
There’s freedom in this. Her soft human nakedness laid out before him, the endless fight to prolong her pleasure until she can’t feel anything but him. The hypnotic, desperate slide of his ridges into her cunt, drawn out and deep, beneath the measured swirl of her fingers over her gleaming center.
She breathes his name as her eyes slide closed. She could not hope to know what such a blatant display of trust could mean to him.
There's no end to the pleasure he will relive when this moment is gone. As her knees tense against him, his toes curl against the sheets. She's incredible, from her heavy-lidded gaze to the raging heat gripping his cock. Each thrust is a prayer, a mantra, a physical manifestation of the deep need and love and lust he cannot help but give her, unendingly, maddeningly. Her fingertips brush against his shaft and he nearly breaks, the long, deep pace now lost to the chase of irresistible pleasure at her demand. In a way, she has beaten him at his own game. The desire to drag out her lust proves too much for him. He falls over her, covering her, lips connecting with her neck as he snaps his hips against her, driving his cock into her wanting body with the desperation of a man who hasn’t known the touch of another in a decade. One arm circles around his back, blunted human fingernails biting into the sensitive frills down his flank.
Her breath is hot at his ear, his name on her lips as she begs, "Please, Thane, please-"
One hand wrenches beneath her knee, pushing it back into her shoulder to give her better access. He can feel her fingertips moving with vigor against her cunt and she breaks.
There's nothing subtle about the way her body feels when she comes on his cock. Her insides ripple like waves, the strength of her taking his breath. His pace falters, his body slapping against her at a desperate, stuttering pace as he stumbles, gasps, and falls over the edge with her. The feeling is a blast wave to his senses, black blooming behind his eyes until there's nothing left but the huff of her breath at his cheek and the incredible, breathtaking, impossible clench and pulse of heat and pleasure between them.
Seconds stretch into eternity as he tumbles with her, release flooding her in abundance. It gathers in every available space inside her, squeezes out along the length of him, smearing between their thighs as he thrusts into her as long as his body can manage. Her ankles lock behind him. The possessive grip of her hands is nothing against the blood-curdling climax they share. And just when he thinks he's spent, she comes a second time.
His head is spinning, his body shaking, the base of his cock expanding within her. She lets out a low moan as he fills her like no human ever could, swollen knot forcing every last drop of white-hot desire into her quivering cunt.
Their bodies are tied. Heaven and hell could fall upon them and their last moments would only be bliss.
With some effort, they manage to find a comfortable position, interlocked for the time being. He can feel every twitch and quiver of her body around him, milking his knot for all it's worth. So intense it feels like she's strangling him, robbing him blind of every sensation that isn't the throbbing pulse of pleasure through his limbs and heart. Chills rake down his spine.
She strokes his trapezius as she murmurs, “You're amazing."
And for a time, their world is nothing but peace and pleasure.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Hours later, when she is fast asleep in his arms, he gazes out of her skylight ceiling and wonders how a man like himself was ever worthy enough of such a moment. Laid bare of her armor and authority, she seems almost delicate in this light - gleaming waves from her empty fish tanks washing over her in soft blue hues. How ironic that her cabin would be illuminated by a facsimile of Kalahira's depths.
He cannot help himself. Perhaps in his mind, or perhaps under whispered breaths, he prays. Offers thanks to his gods, and to the sleeping angel beside him. The rest of his days may not be enough to thank her for all the ways she has changed his life in so short a time.
If all that he has ever been is a sinner, at least for tonight, he has been made whole.
#zet writes things#shrios#thane krios#thane#shepard#mass effect fanfiction#fyi there's knotting in this fic just in case anyone is super not into that (no pun intended)#ive actually written a lot over the last few months but capitalism is slowly but surely wearing me down lol
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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.
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if the sephora wolf spider phenomenal cream was debunked then why is this botza district daddy still letting me bounce on that shit like i'm lane frost
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the spider for the blorbo game!
So on one hand, my feelings toward Spider can be summed up with this image:
On the other he's a genuinely grimly funny character. He's a mafia boss, an earthaboo in possession of the Mona Lisa, Starry Night and works by Georgia O'Keefe, has pretty consistently amazing interactions with those around him, esp. Petra and Drifter, and Mara Sov wants to kick his ass. But he also runs guardian fighting rings and kept an extremely powerful guardian as his butler under threat of detonating his ghost, which is absolutely grizzly shit but just over the top enough to roll back over into being ... a little unintentionally hilarious.
I want him to continue to be a freak man wanted by and running from various agencies around the solar system, which is why I'm a little disappointed that Plunder filed his edges off (HELLO!!! HE RAN A HUMAN FIGHTING RING IMPLIED TO BE LESS THAN CONSENSUAL!!! HE KEPT AN INDENTURED SERVANT UNDER THREAT OF MURDER! How is the Vanguard OK with him just hanging out in the Botza district again???) I joke about killing him but mostly I want him to stick around and be his gloriously terrible self because Destiny is best when its full of unrepentantly awful just-some-guy's.
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is the guardian games class item lore insinuating that spider is in the botza district bc i do not like that
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Video games in Destiny
A friend of mine on discord talked about Cayde-6 filling his vanguard terminal with old video games from the golden age. And while it was an awesome take it ignited this whole idea of old video games and ROMs and how they fit into the world of destiny.
Like, video games are a huge part of our culture, and (to me at least), are pieces of art, so it makes sense to assume that they would reach even greater heights during the golden age. And it’s not a stretch to believe that, post-collapse, Cryptarchs who specialise in recovering art from the lost ages of humanity would revere video games as well, and have whole troves of old ROMs of great games.
But it gets even better than that when you think about how this interacts with other races. We already know that the Cabal have a battlenet that they play games on to distract themselves before battle. Imagine the Cabal gaining a new respect for humanity as their dataminers find old war games like first person shooters and RTS games - while the legionaries enjoy shoot-em-ups, the Psions deeply enjoy the tactical edge of games like Starcraft, and often play multiple games at once with each other.
And then you have the Eliksni - given that their golden age was said to be even better than humanity’s, it’s not hard to imagine that they would have valued games - play is a universal thing, after all.
And then, post-whirlwind, you have Eliksni coming across old caches of human video games. And, given that we know that the Eliksni have a knack for technology and programming, it’s easy to imagine them figuring out how to make their own ROM hacks of these games which are then passed down from generation to generation.
But can you imagine this all culminating with humanity allying with the Cabal and Eliksni? Caiatl commenting to Zavala on humanity’s history of war games, and concluding that it was only natural that a race with such an affinity for combat that they turned it to sport would prove themselves equal to the Cabal.
House Light sheltering in the Botza district with their meagre possessions, including a few ROM hacks of old earth games. After the Vex attack, the Vanguard makes sure that at least one fireteam is patrolling the Eliksni quarter at all times. Which leads to a Hunter spotting a young Eliksni playing what looks suspiciously like Mario kart.
One thing leads to another and it turns out that the Eliskni have a whole trove of ROM-hacked old earth games that have deviated further and further from their source material until they’re their own thing. The Cryptarchs absolutely wet themselves as they recognise several ROMs previously thought lost to time in House Light’s stash and marvel at the intricacy of Eliksni code, and Mithrax is delighted to learn that Human and Eliskni culture has intertwined in yet another way and they have another connection between them.
It goes without saying that Eido has been playing these games since she was a hatchling and wipes the floor with everyone, Guardian or otherwise, foolish enough to challenge her to Ronaldinho Soccer 64.
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assortment of screenshots from the botza district
#destiny spoilers#season of the splicer spoilers#destiny 2#this whole space is so nice#it's cool that we finally get regular access to some part of the city#that isn't full of stuff that wants to kill us#astral's screenshot dumps
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First set of improvements done! Well done community. Took only a few hours to get to 40 million (!) coins.
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Destiny 2: Observations
#destiny 2#the eliksni#eliksni quarter#botza district#destiny 2 eliksni#house light#the last city#earth#destiny 2 earth#season of plunder#destiny 2 season of plunder#bungie#destiny 2 pc
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On her days off, Heulog-12 likes to visit the Botza District & perform little shows of Light-based thaumaturgy for the young Eliksni, to build morale & expose newer generations of Eliksni to Lightbearers in a space that is safe & familiar.
IV: Eliksni
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Somewhere in the Last City, I hope there is a Captain (former?) of House Light who is getting teased by the other Eliksni for falling in love with a Guardian.
This Guardian stepped in to defend them from a beating by a group who’d drank too much of Lakshmi’s kool-aid; the mere sight of Stasis crystals forming around their hands enough to send the thugs scurrying. The Captain is about to thank them; trying to remember how Misraaks-kell taught them to say that in Human-tongue, when the Guardian removes their helmet and the Eliksni finds themselves lost for words in both Human speech and their native tongue.
The Guardian smiles; greeting them with ‘Velask’ and then proceeds to speaks to them with the aid of their tiny machine; offering to escort them where they were going in an effort to dissuade further attacks. The Captain simply nods in agreement, feeling a little light headed and wondering if it had something to do with not consuming enough Ether or nothing to do with that at all.
The Guardian escorts them back to the Eliksni Quarter in the Botza district; catching the attention of several other Eliksni who are awake, where they explain that they were assigned by Ikora to keep an eye on the area and hopefully head off anything or anyone who might harass them. After bidding them goodbye, the Guardian puts their helmet back on and a sleek sniper rifle materialises in their hands before they disippate in a shimmer of light. The Captain wonders how many times the glint of light from rifle scopes they’ve seen have been from that Guardian.
They are bombarded with questions from the others, some subtly and some decidely not so. Their caginess only serves to amplify the teasing.
~~~
I went more in depth with this than I thought. If anyone wants to use the idea/ scenario, feel free and tag me so I can see what you come up with!
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IDK WHAT IM DOING botza district but they went through with renovations or something i don't have references for it i'm trying to visualise a place so hard man
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Sundog spends a lot of their time helping the Eliksni build up the Botza District rather than directly hitting up the battlefield. That’s not to say they’re never out there, especially since they’ve grown used to fighting/killing (they do a lot of bounty work as well), but seeing the Eliksni quarter as it is has taken a constant toll on their heart. Like, better work could be done accommodating them when for years they’ve never had a proper place to call home.
The little ones have taken a liking to them, and they sometimes end up having to play babysitter (it was intimidating at first since they worry about being bad with kids, esp kids of another species entirely, but they’re good now!). Sundog also greatly enjoys spending time with them, especially Misraaks. He’s a hella comforting presence to them, and they hold a great deal of respect for him, even despite who he used to be.
I’m tempted to say that they’ve pushed themself to be more outgoing and like, get people to come in and help rebuild. Hell they’ve even gone as far to let themself be aggressive/strong about it in case anyone wants to get snooty about it. Some nights they’ll stand watch about the district, clear their head too. There are times where they’ve felt like they don’t belong there and that their efforts are selfish because of those they’ve killed in the past, whether it was justified or not, however.
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