Destiny + text posts 18/?

Cayde-6 x Guardian reader SFW alphabet relationship headcanons.

So, first post, it's a long one I will say but I tried my best to be as accurate as I think it would be. hope you'll enjoy x

um...warning for swearing i guess. Could be read as gender-neutral, there is a mention of periods but it's barely there so I'll tag it as both. other than that have some good old fluff.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

At first, Cayde is slightly reluctant to show affection in front of people he doesn't trust wholeheartedly, mostly because he's worried you might become a target, not wanting another Taniks and Andal situation. When he sees you can more than hold your own in combat, he is happy to relax a little. (Just a little)

Afterwards, when you two are in public he's not afraid to let people know you're his, he's actually very proud of the fact that he won you over however there's no over-the-top PDA. A stolen kiss here and there, holding your hand, a hand on your lower back or waist, maybe the odd steamy moment somewhere in a dark corner of the hanger as you both giggle like teenagers.

Privately he's incredibly affectionate, wanting to make the most of the very slim amount of downtime the 2 of you have together. He'll follow you around your home like a cat, eager to simply be in your presence. He's always finding an excuse to touch you, sitting together on the sofa? He's got his head laid in your lap. Cooking in the kitchen? He's got his chin resting on your shoulder, watching you, arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Your friendship with Cayde would likely start after he tells you to take him with him because he hates his job. Much to his delight and surprise you try and sneak him out onto your ship, however Zavala has eyes everywhere and catches you both in the act. After a slap on the wrist, Cayde takes you out to ramen when he's next able to, to apologise for being a "bad influence" or so Zavala says. (he tooootally didn't sneak out a 2nd time to do this).

As your best friend, he's ride or die. He's incredibly loyal, maybe a little brash but you know both of you have each other’s 6, on and off the field. After a while, he's not afraid to show up (normally unannounced) at your home at stupid o'clock in the morning. He claims it's just because he's an early riser, or he was just awake, or some other ridiculous excuse, it's actually because you're the only thing that can calm him after the nightmares that more often than not plague him during the night.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Oh god yes. This man is the exo equivalent of a limpet. He loves the feeling of your skin under his fingers, your warmth pressed against him. He loves them for a lot of reasons. They're comfy, and deep down he misses the warmth of a human body.

If you're hunkered down, cuddled up in one of his many hideouts, stashes or one of your homes, he likes to make shapes on your skin. He likes to be big spoon 90% of the time, wrapping himself around you, arms around your waist securely, a protective gesture, it'll take a lot to coax out of him that he partially does this because if shit hits the fan while you're sleeping, he knows exactly where you are. You can feel the hum of his internal workings against your back, a soothing melody, the gentle vibrations seeming to mimic a heartbeat and breathing.

There are the odd days that cayde isn't big spoon. The nights his nightmares get too much, or he arrives home battered and exhausted, he'll crawl into bed with you without a word, kick off his boots and lay his head on your chest. You let him stay there a while before coaxing him into removing his armour and getting into something more comfortable. Afterwards, it's straight back to nestling his head into your chest, listening to your heart, legs tangled together. He's particularly fond when you gently stroke the back of his head and hum some soft tune.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Deep down cayde would like the idea of settling down, he knows the likelihood of that is slim. It's a dangerous and volatile world and he knows he'll probably never stop fighting. But he fights for the life he could have, someday. He also loves the wilds too much, out on the bleak expanse of Mars, the cold snows of Europa or the various golden age ruins on Earth, the call of adventure is something cayde will always answer, an adrenaline junky at heart.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

There are few reasons I can think cayde would break up with you, your safety being the main one. Maybe an argument broke out about how reckless you were being or how reckless he was being, he isn't known for his sense of self-preservation. Maybe he thinks you deserve better, better than he can give and no matter how much you plead and beg it's hard to change his mind. He would talk to you; he'd at least have the nerve to break up with you face to face. He'd make a point of avoiding you as much as possible after.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Commitment is a tricky one, cayde but he's an all-or-nothing guy. Once he knows you're the one, the one he can trust, the one that can keep up with him, the one he can confide him, then he's there. Cayde wouldn't want to get married soon, the tower is a hectic place and there's always a new threat on the horizon, but he'd promise you one day, when the fighting stops, then, then you can tie the knot. It's a bittersweet promise that you often doubt will ever come to light but right now you have each other, facing the dangers of the system together.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

The first time cayde went to hug you, he accidentally bashed you with his horn, a bright red and sore mark on your cheek. After that, he's a little more cautious with his enthusiasm...a little.

When you’re hanging out together in your private space cayde isn't opposed to the occasional tickle fight and rough and tumble. (He will never admit that he, an exo, has a ticklish spot but you know the truth. Tickle a sensitive patch of silicone by his hip and he's a mess)

But when you're feeling down, the pressures of the tower getting to you, your injured or it's that time of month, he treats you like glass. Like you're the most precious thing he's laid his hands on, swaddling you in blankets and wrapping his arms around you. He speaks in low soothing tones and rocks you gently, he’ll likely order you both ramen and put on your favourite holotape.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Cayde is a big hugger when it comes to those he truly cares about. Most times he plays it off as a joke when he opens his arms and says "Hugs?" But he'll never admit the glee it brings when someone (especially you) steps into his outstretched arms.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Cayde definitely overthinks it. He spends nights losing sleep questioning if he truly feels love or just a ghost of what his human consciousness thought as love. He overthinks saying it to you, it’s only when you're about to do some stupid and possibly self-sacrificing thing on a mission that it's blurted out in desperate panic at the thought of never being able to tell you again. He’ll be grabbing you by the shoulders and you can see the desperation in his face.

After the mission cayde won't mention it unless you do. If you ignore it he'll become a little more reclusive, not as touchy-feely any more.

 But if you do, and you reciprocate his feelings, a stupid grin will grow on his face and no matter where or who is watching he's grabbing your face and kissing you with all the pent-up emotion he's been bottling since the friendship morphed into more confusing feelings, feelings of wanting…well, more.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Cayde is a very self-assured guardian, and he trusts you. He knows that you'd never do anything to betray him...Its other people he doesn't trust. Not that he doesn't think you can't stick up for yourself or know when someone is getting a little TOO cosy, but he will step in now and again. He’d saunter over with his usual charm, an arm winding around your waist. "Who’s this, dollface?" he'd ask sweetly while eyeing the other guardian, a clear message. she’s mine. back off

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

At first, Cayde was slightly worried about kissing you for the first time. Had you ever kissed an Exo before? Would you want to? When he begins to develop feelings for you, he often finds himself thinking about what it would be like if it finally happens, your soft lips against his.... Lips? Face plates? Whatever people choose to call them.

Your first kiss likely happens in the heat of the moment, relieved after a high-stakes mission together and unable to contain himself anymore, his leather-gloved hands find your cheeks, pulling you up into a passionate kiss. It was a new experience, his 'lips' were softer, smoother than you imagined an exos to be. When the kiss finally breaks you are both breathless, gazing at one another.

After this cayde would steal kisses occasionally. He was surprisingly good at sneaking kisses while you were both out and about the tower. Pulling you into hidden alcoves, sneaky chaste kisses while Zavala is turned away giving long speeches about.... something neither of you remembers.

When the pair of you are in the privacy of your homes cayde will take his time, he loves kissing any bit of you he can get to. lips, cheeks, neck, anywhere. Likewise, he loves feeling your lips on him, when you swoop in to kiss his cheek when you're busy in the kitchen, his chest when you're curled up in bed, he's addicted to the feel of your lips on him.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Cayde doesn't get many opportunities to be around children. Often his interactions are fleeting waves as he walks the last city on patrol or when disaster has struck and he's ushering frightened families to safety, trying to treasure them. When you see these rare moments, you don't miss how his demeanour softens slightly but there's a ... melancholy beneath it.

however every month or so cayde gets plenty of time to spend with children..he has to coach his dodgeball team after all. it is very early on that cayde tells you about how he beat Shaxx and convinced the titan to play dodgeball with the children of the Last City. Cayde cant help but laugh when the children he's coaching meet you for the first time and start singing teasing songs about kissing in trees. these are usually followed up by cayde with an over-exaggerated eyebrow wiggle and "you know... I know some pretty good trees" whispered between barely held-back giggles.

Cayde's little team love you and the Hunter Vanguard totally hasn't gotten everyone team shirts. yours may or may not say property of cayde somewhere either hidden or in massive letters on the back, hell say its a printing error...it totally wasnt.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

If you're not both on some sort of mission or patrol, you normally wake up in an empty bed, cayde likely already off to perform his vanguard duties.

If you’re both up bright and early, he’ll wake you with a gentle shake and soft words. His voice is not warmed, up its lower, a little staticky and it sends shivers through you. Once you’re both dressed he’ll make you coffee and ask about your jobs for the day before wishing you a safe day and kissing you softly.

If both of you have a rare day when neither of you has morning commitments, it's the sun peaking lazily through the blinds that wakes you, Caydes arms around you securely. If you try to get up and escape the cocoon of warmth, the response from him will be a groan of protest as he pulls you back towards him, nuzzling into you and murmuring "Stay" and how could you resist such a request?

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights where you can stay up late with no commitments the next morning are spent either in a bar somewhere in the last city, hidden away in a corner. or you would spend it in your room. drinking, playing cards, or just cuddling while some old golden-age holotapes play.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It takes a long time. There are some things even Zavala and Ikora aren't privy to. One of those things being Cayde's journal and ace. He very slowly begins opening up, the charismatic and charming mask slipping slightly to show you the vulnerable and scarred exo beneath. Eventually, after a few years, cayde will tell you about Ace and his journals over a quiet drink away from other prying ears. It's a few years after this that he actually lets you read them.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Cayde inwardly is a patient man. He'll make jokes about how long things are taking, and pester people, normally Zavala but part of being a hunter is control and knowing when to wait for the best moment to strike.

That doesn't mean people don't push his buttons sometimes. He doesn't take kindly to threats or things bothering those he holds dear, namely you. Cayde is quick to shut it down.

You rarely see cayde truly angry, pissed yes, irritated also yes. But angry, that's a rare 'treat'. He's not a loud angry person but the type who when they go silent you know shit is about to hit the fan. A quiet cayde is a dangerous cayde.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Cayde remembers most things, his position as hunter vanguard means he's under a lot of pressure to remember things such as patrols, Bounties and planning the next missions but he'll make an effort to remember dates. Anniversaries, birthdays, and other important dates he comics to memory. He tries to remember your favourite foods so he can surprise you with dinner sometimes.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

You were both so tired. Tried, worn out and stressed. You were returning from a mission that had gone south quickly and from your seat behind him you could hear his leather gloves creak in protest at his tight grip on the controls as he piloted the ship. You'd both been in foul moods, sleep-deprived and aching, the mission had been filled with snappy retorts and growled orders. You hadn't spoken since getting on the ship. The silence was broken by Zavala on the coms ordering for your return, Cayde interrupts, slamming a finger on the disconnect button. "Fuck this" he grows and turns the ship around.

Minutes later you finally touch down somewhere and neither of you moves, he slumps back into his seat. " 'm sorry" he murmurs, not turning to look at you. His voice is quiet, remorseful. You ask where you are, and he signals to the exit of the ship. Once you disembark you find yourself in a forest clearing, a lean-to was haphazardly built against a tree, filled with a few caches, chairs and supply boxes. "Little private hideaway. Sometimes I just...need somewhere" he says leading you to a chair.

He pours you a glass of something, it's strong and warms your throat on the way down. You stay there that night, laid out on a blanket drinking and just talking. Wrapped up in one another under the stars. That's the night he tells you about Andal, about Ace and his journals. The night he truly realises how much you mean to him and how much he can't let you go.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Cayde outwardly is about what you would expect when someone's in a relationship. He's cool and collected and shows he knows you can handle yourself. But inside that exo brain is a totally different story. He knows every mission you're going on location and time. He's committing your ship, sparrow and every detail of your armour to memory, God forbid he ever have to look for it, wreckage or otherwise.

If you're on a mission with him, he's first through every doorway, round every corner and in every room. He plays it off as being the leader of the fire team and thus leading. But really, it's to make sure if there's a trap, a hidden danger or an enemy and you’re both caught unaware it's not you who gets the hit.

If he's having particularly bad days after nightmares about Andal and other lost friends, he might slip a tracker into your gear in case something happens to you. When you found it, you were livid at first. You let him explain, panicked words tumbling out promising it wasn’t out of worry of you being unfaithful but fear of actually losing you in that big expanse outside your cosy apartment. After that, you Make sure your ghost sends cayde frequent updates on your location while you're on missions to cayde.

You've saved Caydes ass more times than either of you can count. Every time you do there's a look in his eye. One that took you a while to decipher but when you did you realised it was a mix of pride and trust. He knows you have his 6. And he'll never admit how hot it is when you get angry at whatever it is threatening his life and subsequently beating it into a pulp just for him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Caydes' love langue is acts of service and physical touch.

Cayde would try, bless him. He'd try so hard but in the chaos, it would be difficult. Your odd and often full schedules rarely match up but when they do he's making plans, and dates, he's buying you flowers, and gifts.

Everyday tasks like making your coffee, and running you a bath when you return from a long day among others are a regular when it comes to cayde.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He’s incredibly self-sacrificing when it comes to fighting the good fight. Even if it means him stumbling in at 3 am, beaten and tired. This also manifests in your relationship sometimes taking a backseat, you understood of course but that doesn't mean you didn't miss him.

Other than that he is terrible at taking care of himself unless its initiated by you, eating, sleeping and sometimes bathing taking a back seat in order to do his job.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

While he’s not too concerned too much with his looks, he does like to keep looking good. He uses wax on his metal plating and makes sure his armour is in good spec. When the two of you began getting closer cayde began to care a little more. At first, it was subconscious, you were his friend, and he didn't want to look like a scruff. But then he found himself fussing over his cloak in his reflection before he would go to see you and maybe he had even bought a new cologne and hoped you'd get close enough to notice.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

At first no. cayde was certain about that. Until long missions felt longer, when you were away the bed felt emptier. His hand felt barren without his queen of hearts and he realises that you are his safe space, his respite and he wants to be that for you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Cayde will never admit this out loud, but he loves a little pampering now and again. You heard him mention offhand to another exo about a little place in the bazaar that does an exo wax that he swears by. That evening you surprised him with a home-cooked meal and candles. After you led him to the bed and helped him out of his armour. He was surprised when you pulled out the exo wax, he hadn't directly told you and he won't admit how much it meant. By the time you finished gently massaging the wax onto him, he was asleep, blissed out from the attention and much-needed care.

Sundance ADORES you. Cayde's little light had liked you the moment they witnessed the two of you meet and cayde loves hates it. You and Sundance are little sass machines sometimes and cayde is often the object of your laughter. Sundance loves that you take care of cayde, especially when he won't. Cayde confided in Sundance when he began feeling feelings more than friendship and the little ghost was thrilled. Often when cayde is busy pouring over maps and reports, Sundance will float by you, or perch on your shoulder or lap to keep you company.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Cayde isn't a fan of people who put others down, especially if those people are guardians who were resurrected recently. He has a protective streak when it comes to new lights and finds people who actively put them down or treat them with disdain to be unlikeable.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Cayde is a light sleeper. When you’re out on missions constantly God knows where you need to be alert and ready. This twinned with occasional nightmares and his vanguard duties means his sleep schedule is horrible. Some nights you wake to rustling covers, a bleary-eyed cayde slipping into bed at 3 am, some mornings you find him where you had left him the night before, awake and pouring over maps or reports and some nights the bad coupling in his leg gives him spasms keeping him awake.

He appreciates any attachments at helping him sleep, hot cocoa in the evening as you coax him to bed, holding him close, white noise and even reading to him, he just likes the sound of your voice. And every night after he sleeps soundly.

If you couldn't tell already, these two are getting flung around my mental washing machine at frightening speeds.

Read the rest of The Devil's Claw here

Previous chapter

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CHAPTER ?? / The Forbidden

House Kings does not know how to deal with a human of remarkable talent amongst the ranks of Devil warriors.

House Devils themselves hardly knows, either.

Wethraks notes that Yami's presence in the Kell Guard and association with its most esteemed inner circle destabilises loyal bonds. Allowing a thief of the Great Machine in the halls of the Devils' Lair stirs Barons into action. They question Ursaviks's sanity and authority, and promise to maul his precious weapon, or make an example of everyone involved if they cannot do that. House Devils is capable of defending itself without the need for interference from another species, they believe. Doing so implies weakness, and a failure of their own warriors, which means their leaders are worthless. If one human can replace entire crews worth of Devils, the sacrifice of Eliksni lives and the deaths of those who built London upon its new foundations is unnecessary.

The first few, Ursaviks docks for insubordination, and strips them of their statuses. The rest, the smarter ones who know to let the foolish younger Eliksni take the fall before making their stand, he regards as amusements. Every single one of them is laughed out of the Lair. He waves them away with a suggestion to look at the results before making such bold accusations and statements.

None of them realise that, for the most part, Yami is the prized pet of the Kell Guard.

They name him 'Lodask' for his ferocity on the battlefield. An ancient word from home-Riis, equating him to a vicious, six-legged creature that Wethraks has only heard described by Elders. A predator that would steal away hatchlings from shorelines, lurking in the shallows to drag even unsuspecting adults to their watery demise. Intercepted comms from Kings raiding parties prove that he strikes the same primal fear into their minds.

Outside of combat, his existence is accepted to varying degrees. Having the courage to fight for a people who are not his own wins favour with the coldest of hearts, and others find him a curiosity. Some of the trappers make friends with him and ask to be taught about his culture and the way of life he left behind. Others take him on tours of the city - which really means pub crawls - or ask him about the artefacts found in the salvage markets. On occasion, they ask to be taught human games and activities. 'Throwing-football' is a particular favourite, and the primary cause to blame for most recent injuries in their ranks. It is very different to 'kicking-football', which teeters on the edge of being banned on the grounds of the Lair for entirely different reasons that Wethraks does not understand the extent of.

Supposedly, he has even endeared himself to his neighbour, Taniks. The latter speaks no English, and the former gets by with an ever-increasing grasp of Eliksni, but they find alternative ways to understand each other. The target propped at the end of their shared hallway, and the axes and arrows sticking out of it, says everything Wethraks needs to know.

As his charge learns the ways of the Devils so he can do as Ursaviks ordered and leave his humanity behind, less complaints about his presence filter back. Or if they are made, they are quieter. Subtler.

What none of them see, however, is Lodask's guilt and regret.

One night, he finds himself knocking on Lodask's door. The man disappeared after a skirmish, and rumours from the Guard swirl wildly as to why. Apparently, someone watched him tear the arm off a Kings Captain and beat her senseless with it, stabbed her in the eye with an arrow from his quiver, and then slit her throat with the same arrowrtip. While it does not seem out of the realm of possibility, his newfound crewmates tend to speak highly of him in defence of his honour, as if they collectively still have something to prove.

There is a moment of hesitation, a slight delay before the door cracks open and Lodask peers through the gap. The haunted look on his face is both unnerving and worrying, and confirms his fears.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

"I heard what happened," Wethraks does not mince his words. Yet from there, his confidence scatters. "Is…can I come in?"

"Uh…yeah, sure." Stepping aside, Lodask allows him to squeeze into the narrow hall and into his relatively unfurnished apartment. The single lamp light on is dim, and he manages to step over the discarded armor and weaponry on the floor before he can trip over it. Despite the shelving and storage available, few things in his home are kept in a designated space.

From there, he doesn't inquire further. Instead, he watches as Lodask sinks into the couch, and wonders why he never realised that he is just as small and fragile as every other human.

When he finally speaks after several seconds of silence, his tone is flat, and he rubs at his face. Something in the action speaks of vulnerability. Expert though he is at hiding his emotions, his body language almost always gives him away.

"I lost control." he murmurs.

Wethraks's hearts sink to hear the speculation confirmed. "Are you injured?"

"No, no." The denial is instant. As always. It would be of no surprise to learn that he is hiding grevious wounds but is too fearful to admit it, as he has done before.

"I can look, if you're worried about infection-"

"No, I'm not hurt," he insists, shoulders slumping. "I just can't keep doing this. I said I was done, I was meant to start over. I told Ursaviks I didn't want to hurt anyone. But how many Kings has he made me kill?"

In place of answer, Wethraks sighs through his nose and lowers himself to sit. At his friend's side, he spots a dark purple blotch of dried blood stuck in his hair. If there is one thing they have both discovered, it is that Eliksni blood clings to human skin and hair like thick oil. Once the sheen of Ether evaporates off, it leaves behind a residue reminder of his sins until days worth of scrubbing and picking remove it.

"He trapped me. I walked straight into it." Lodask almost growls with self-hatred, lowering his head and shaking it.

Wethraks lets a purr rumble in his throat, thin yet steady. Nothing else he can say or do will soothe him. Any offer of comfort would only send him spiralling further. Sitting within his personal space and being present, listening, not pushing at any boundaries, is as much as he will allow. Even the privilege of being able to hear him express his concerns is a high honour. One day, he is sure he will be able to rest a hand on his arm, embrace him, or invite him to the warmth of his own home and nest as night-family so that he does not have to bear his burdens alone. But that day is many years away, distant behind impenetrable emotional walls.

In the quiet, he thinks. A way forward has to be available. Lodask cannot suffer forever. Treating him as a weapon of mass destruction, absent of his own agency. Is unsustainable. London is supposed to be not solely a safe refuge where he can recover and rebuild his life, but a home too, with Eliksni who would care for him as if he had lived among them his entire life. Beholden to Ursaviks he may be, his mate would also not want him to feel so miserable. However, all four of his hands are tied. Allowing him any further concessions may prove disastrous when his ultimate goal is to transform a human into an Eliksni.

Although within those boundaries, one option remains. An unpopular one that risks rejection at the first hurdle, and tone-deaf in the face of their present situation. But it is better to share his thoughts and plant the idea in his mind than leave his friend to fester, unaware of an escape route.

"Why don't you go to Proving?" Wethraks suggests.

Lodask glances upwards from his hunched position, eyebrows raised in bone-tired, exasperated, disbelief. The mere implication of fighting for his honour and position seems to age him another twenty years before his very eyes.

"Ursaviks is Kell, but because he took charge of you, he's also the leader of your crew," he attempts to explain, pausing to ensure that the translated distinction is correct. Why English has so many words for types of leaders, he fears he may never know. *If you can campaign to him to enter the next Proving and defeat any challengers, you'd earn your freedom. With the life-debts you've accrued, you'd become a Captain or a Baron."

"Did you do that?"

"Well- no," Wethraks stumbles over his words before recovering. "Being Kell's Mate means I don't have to do anything. But it's what I would've done if I hadn't joined with the Lair." Excluding that he would have been eviscerated as soon as he stepped on to the field, with his history of fleeing from battle, seems sensible.

"Isn't it a fight to the death?" he asks, incredulous.

"They happen, yes, but that's usually someone trying to prove a point."

"How many Devils have a point to prove about me?"

He opens his mouth to assure that not many would try, then catches on to his point. Some way or another, it seems the entire city knows of his existence. While most simply cross the street to avoid him or turn their backs when he approaches, the disgraced once-Barons could band together and enter themselves into the same competition pools in order to regain their reputation when they hear of his campaign. Let alone who they could rally behind their cause to fight and kill on their behalf. Or the sheer number of Devils who would want to watch the battles. If he were to fall, it would be a public embarrassment of the highest order.

Beyond that, though, it would mean he is never accepted. Determined to drift and not once find the stability he so terribly needs. He could leave and find refuge in another House, or with a band of exiles, but it would lead to more of the same. Fighting for survival first, and to justify his place in an uncaring world second.

He cannot betray him like that.

Clutching at the last few desperate straws of optimism he has, he answers, "I wouldn't worry about them. Ursaviks likes you too much. So do the rest of the Guard. They wouldn't let anything happen."

Lodask sighs and slumps back into his seat, arms folded. "I guess."

Sensing that he does not believe him, he clicks his mandibles to make his friend meet his gaze. When his attention turns to look at him, Wethraks touches a hand to his own chest, over his hearts. "I won't let anything happen."

The briefest flicker of a genuine emotion passes over his friend's face. Unable to read it, and with no immediate reaction other than his usual guarded stare, Wethraks's insides writhe. Perhaps the gesture was too intimate. Too honest. For all the time they spend together, it is as far as he has ever pushed. With so many barriers in the way, it is difficult to tell where their friendship stands on the best of days.

But before the awkwardness can set in and force him to take it back, a faint smile ghosts across Lodask's lips.

"I know."

Destiny Quotes

Quotes from D1 that resonated with me one way or another. I might do a part two and I’ll even take submissions if you send me them in asks!

“No supplies. Armor in tatters. But the refugees had asked for help. And she had given her word.” -Tale if the Six Coyotes (Shinobu’s Vow)

“Doesn’t matter how good you are- you stay out there too long, you’re not coming back. Not the same way you left, anyway.” -Tevis (Graviton Forfeit)

The Servitors work the engines. The Archon plots the course. But it’s the Kell who stands at the helm. (Kellhunter’s Blood)

“The courage to walk into Darkness, but the strength to return to the Light.” -Parables of the Allspring (Blindsight Legs)

One throne beneath the howling dark. (Cloak of the Sixth Reign)

Every time she pulled the trigger, an enemy of the city died. (Efrideet’s Eye)

In his strong hand the man held a Rose. And his aura burned bright.” (Dregen Yor’s Rose)

“I'll remember the Light. Will it remember me?” -Sai Mota (Cloak of the Duskthorn)

“Run with me, we’ve new trails to stalk (Wolves’ Cloak)

“When the long dark closes around us, we will be the last light.” -Wei Ning (Light of the Great Prism)

Any scholar can understand the theory, but only those who hear the music can make the Light sing. (Sunsinger’s Bond)

“I shrouded myself so when the Light returned I could see it all clearer.” -Parables of the Allspring (Blindsight Vest)

Let the horns be winded, the torches kindled, the banners unfurled. The Iron Lords march again. (Winter’s End)

Show me all that I have yet to rule. (Queen’s Guard Hood)

“I will put an ocean into a thimble. I will build a world on the edge of a blade.” (Hadron Gale Bond)

Eliksni songs still tell of Chelchis, Kell of Stone, who stood before the Maw. (Broken Crown)

“You are a dead thing made by a dead power in the shape of the dead. All you will ever do is kill. You do not belong here. This is a place of life.” (Legend: Black Garden)

Match me in bloodshed / Or in blood be drowned (The Warpriest)

The unfairness of it makes him want to roar. Why does everyone else have this patronage? Why do the Hive have gods and the Vex have sprawling time-bent minds and the Cabal have reinforcements? Why do the Awoken whisper to the stars and listen for the whisper back, the voices from the Jovians, the song in the dark? Why do the Guardians get the Great Machine's blessing, was it like that before the Whirlwind, were there Fallen heroes crowned in Ghosts who strode the battlefield fearless and full of Light? Why do they tell stories about reclaiming the lost glory of humanity, and no stories about the lost glory of Variks' people, the House of Judgment that once kept codes of dignity and law? (Skolas: Defeated)

“It is the lone wolf, once cornered, that has the worst bite.” (Taniks, the Scarred)

I imagine there is at least 1 Eliksni that was born around the time Destiny 1 started and has been involved in every major expansion.

A Devil Dreg that watched Sepiks fall, got shunned and exiled to the Moon to be with Exiles. He saw Crota's Hive reinvigorate when Crota started to wake up, then fled to Venus to join House Winter only to find out Draksis is dead and Winter has been without a Kell for a while. Then, Skolas rolls up talking mad game and promising a shiny new life so he just kinda slinks his way into House Wolves. Gets promoted to Vandal. Surprise, Wolves fall. He stays with the Wolves until Daddy Oryx rolls in with a massive murder boner. He lays low in the Tangled Shore, makes some good Reefborn friends, real 1-in-a-million group of Eliksni, until he goes back to Earth because he hears through the grapevine that a splinter faction of Devils got some shiny new toys. His friends weren't about it, so he goes alone. He gets there only too find out Aksis is fucking dead and his cult has no leader.

He uses his Skiff as a bargaining chip so he can join the normal Devils, things on its last legs anyway. Thinks he's fine then Boom. Red War. Boom. Joins House Dusk. Lays low in Cosmodrome for a peaceful time, gets promotedto Captain, maybe gets a boy/girlfriend. Lays back and listens to all sorts of chatter throughout the years. Lightbearers are doing shit on Mercury and Mars. The House Kings lose their Kell. The Wolf Servitors are basically being hunted down. Then, he hears radio chatter of shit going down at the Reef and the Tangled Shore.

He goes "oh shit, my friends" and rushes back to the Tangled Shore, girl/boyfriend in tow, knowing they might not even be alive anymore. They're fine but some resent him and some don't. You do what you do to live and survive, that's the way of the scavenger. Then once the Tangled Shore stabilizes, he hears of Siviks making shiny new toys (where have I heard this one). So, he waits for that to fail before taking his Crew and swooping in and taking anything that wasn't nailed down. His crew lives the high life for a bit and forgive him and start to respect him. They're listening to radio chatter of Eliksni being sent on punishment expeditions by the Spider and never coming back and Guardians walking around with mad gold drip. Then, supplies get low again and he hears Skolas is back and on the Moon with Taniks so he goes to see how organized they are and, surprise, they're just ghosts, the Hive are pissed and spiky and red, the Vex are pissed and mossy and green, and the moon has a big red erection.

Takes what they can and goes back to the Shore because fuck that noise. Chills again for a bit and listens to Dusk on Earth freak out over a giant letter H falling out of the sky before it explodes. They think it can't get worse. Spoiler. It does.

Hears talk of a new home on Europa from a transmission from Variks. Reefborn friends are into it but he isnt (he's heard it before) but they're excited. He hears a couple former Devils are some big wigs and thinks he can get some high class property for him and his friends if he flashes around that Devil banner they've been using as a rug. Talks it over with his crew this time, before packing it all up and moving to Europa for another new life. Life's cold but good until it gets infested with robots. They fight hard but their new home is a wash but, some guy named Misraaks seems to be pretty popular and, not to mention there is some evil trees on the Tangles Shore, so they go back to Earth to kick it with him only to see Caiatl's fleet pull in.

@xdeusxmachinax

more please, my thude.

sdkfghg omg i didn’t think anyone would be interested in them 🥺 thank u,,, I honestly don’t have a ton of thoughts on them at the moment, but hopefully these will suffice for now? 

pardon me if i infodump;;; you don’t have to read all of these right now, or even at all if they’re not interesting ;w;’ 

- Valkriis isn’t a guardian hunter nor does she resent them like Taniks does, especially considering her house follows the path of unification- however, she doesn’t actively try to change Taniks for the better. Taniks is... well, Taniks, you’re not going to get much luck out of trying to get him to follow the straight direction on a moral compass, it’s just not who he is at this point in time. maybe not ever. they’re not enemies because despite the drastic difference in beliefs, neither of them have tried to sabotage each other in some way. 

__________________

- HOWEEVVERRRRR when they first met they definitely were not buddy buddies right away. I actually have no clue what their first meeting was, but I’m kind of digging the idea that they were competing for the same bounty that was very high priced. Both of them had their work cut out for them and are both incredibly skilled at what they do- and Taniks has a leg up because he’s been doing this WAY longer than Valkriis, so she’s gonna have to really work for it. Both of then end up joining up to take care of the bounty together in the end, though, because it’s actually a real bitch of a hunt (plus I love plots like this), and they both not only manage to get it done quicker and more efficiently, but they end up getting off on a somewhat more decent footing. The rewards aren’t split completely equally, but Taniks does give Valkriis a decent portion out of respect. He’s been in her place before when he was starting out. 

__________________

- Both of them meet up on the occasion to exchange information as well as catch up with one another. There are times where they’ve worked together, but also competed, and for Valkriis personally it’s all in good fun as well as just business. She at times supplies him with repair work to various things, such as body modifications, weapons and transportation, as long as he pays her of course, but there are... other times where she’s more settled to do it for free. Most likely later when she’s become more ‘fond’ of him. Sometimes he supplies her with things in return that he doesn’t care for or doesn’t need, but every one and awhile he’ll give her something a little more special.

__________________

- Ever see She-Ra and the Princesses of Power? I. For whatever reason keep seeing these two having a similar-ish relationship/dynamic to Entrapta and Hordak, except I don’t think it would become something romantic (or even sexual, as an addition) despite humorous moments of what some would say is tension. I think they just both come to appreciate/like each other in their own ways despite their massive alliance differences, and moments where they have no choice but to fight against each other. I think something that shocks Taniks a lot at first is just how she treats him, and continues to treat him. She’s oddly friendly and respectful, but also doesn’t take his shit when he deals it out, and something about that to him is like... hm, appealing. 

taniks has no house

and no legs

Project Compass 32

Read along on AO3 here

<< Previous Chapter <<   >> Next Chapter >>

This time: Ar'alani and Vah'nya conduct an interrogation.

Next time: A trap must be dealt with.

-/

Vah’nya regarded Eli with a look suffused with warmth, openly displaying her affection. The way one regarded a close friend, perhaps even one they regarded as a brother with whom their association transcended blood relation. Her lips quirked slightly, and she smiled at him with a hint of sadness in her face.

“He kissed you,” She said. “Did he-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Said Eli.

He looked like a Chiss, in Vah’nya’s estimation. It was in how straight his back was, the way his shoulders rounded down not in an overly relaxed gesture, but one that indicated he understood his place, that he was prepared but not coiled so tightly that he could not adapt. He was strong. Far stronger than she - than any Chiss - had expected him to be. She could not help but be impressed by him, by his strength of will, of his convictions, but most of all, of his heart. It could not be easy to be a human among Chiss, and even less so to come to terms with being a human who had feelings for one, considering...

The true events leading to Thrawn’s departure were known only by the human beside her. Even so, Vah’nya knew she saw more than others would have in the silent security holo she’d watched with Admiral Ar’alani. Others would have suspected it to be a ploy, a way to catch Eli off guard. Others did not truly know Mitth’raw’nuruodo.

Thrawn was hardly a good actor when subtle, gentle emotions were concerned. He knew how to project anger and rage, how to tap into the wellspring of his feelings to pluck out strands of the brightest, sharpest ones in order to subdue or coerce. There was no act, and Eli knew it, just like Vah’nya, just like Ar’alani. She had been surprised to see the admiral swear and rap her fist against the console as she called Thrawn a rather impressive slur indicating him to be an idiot.

“I know,” Vah’nya said, shrugging off her uniform tunic in favor of a deep black combat uniform that had been procured from the quartermaster. It was so dark it nearly matched the color of her hair. Despite being dressed in both an undershirt and long leggings beneath her usual attire, Eli turned away politely, shucking both undershirt and tunic for his own tactical gear. “We’ll rescue him,” She said reassuringly. “I am confident we will.”

“Un’hee is our primary objective,” Eli reminded her, resolve echoing off the walls of the small room as he affixed a belt to his waist before moving on to secure the holster attached to it around his thigh. “Not Thrawn.”

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo is vital to our plans, as well,” She pressed. He hid his hurt behind his duty, but she wasn’t willing to ignore that they both would do what needed to be done. “We need him, and you know it. We-”

“Of course,” Interrupted Eli. “However-”

Vah’nya continued speaking as if he’d never said anything at all. “You’ve waited long enough. Our plans are in motion, for better or worse.” Then she smirked a little, teasing, “Besides, now you can show him just how much of a warrior you are,” She drawled a little. “Would he find such a display…” She trailed off and let her expression go slack as she said, “Enticing?” In a silky-tone that was an impeccable - albeit more soprano - rendition of Thrawn. Unable to maintain his completely expressionless expression, Un’hee waggled her eyebrows mock-seductively.

That won her a little laugh. “Let’s see where the mission takes us,” Mused Eli, though his lips curled upwards just a tick. “We still have a bit of work to do before we’re rescuing anyone and-” He shook his head, still unwilling to talk about what had obviously been rather pivotal interaction. Neither Ar’alani or Un’hee were stupid: they might not know the specifics from grainy holo-footage, but they had an idea of just what had happened. Frankly, it hadn’t come as a surprise. Perhaps that’s what hurt Eli a little more than usual. As if sensing her shift in thinking, the human nudged her with his shoulder as he passed, still taking care to look away. “Get a move on.”

Vah’nya hummed. “Fine,” She said, and then willed herself to be serious as she zipped up her dark trousers and fitted the utility belt around her waist. The attire made her look more slender than she was, but in a way that indicated severity, not fragility. Her hair was already pulled back from her face in tight braids that wound around each other at the base of her skull. “Let’s get this over with.” She’d try to get more out of him the next time they had a minute. Maybe Ezra could help, she considered, before forcing all thoughts unrelated to their upcoming task aside.

They exited the ready room with matching expressions, lips thinned, eyes guarded and headed not toward Ar’alani’s office, but rather to the deepest recesses of the ship, beyond the massive cargo bay and entry-point to the hangar. Those they passed looked skeptical, concerned, but did not comment on their choice of gear. The ship was preparing for battle, and all hands were needed. Time was not a luxury any of them could afford. It was estimated that they had approximately two hours until they would drop out of hyperspace and be in the same region as their rogue ship, the anticipated transport, and whatever Grysk forces were counting on their arrival.

“Our best chance to keep on target is to crack him in thirty minutes,” Ivant said as they both subjected their irises to scanning. The scanner-tech’s beep of approval permitted them entry to the cell block and interrogation room containing their prisoner. “Remember your training,” He urged. “You can do this.”

Vah’nya nodded, fingers rippling.

Faro and Ar’alani waited for them just outside the mirrored glass that allowed them to see into the interrogation room, but did not allow their prisoner to see out. And inside, newly disgraced and former Mid Commander Tanik sat stone-faced and restrained at both wrists and ankles with wide cuffs. Someone had ripped the patch representing the Aristocra from his uniform.

“Are you prepared to begin?” Ar’alani asked them.

Both Ivant and Vah’nya inclined their heads to her, though neither stiffened to attention. Vah’nya considered Ar’alani for a moment. “You should take point, Admiral.”

“As you wish,” She relented, before turning to Ivant. “Will you be joining us?”

“I’ll wait outside with Faro.” He answered, “If that is acceptable with you, of course. I think that my presence would distract more than assist,” He thought aloud. “It has to be a Chiss.”

“I’ll say. I already questioned him,” Faro said. “His opinions were noted.”

Ar’alani opened the door to the interrogation room. “This is your chance to speak,” She insisted to the captive Tanik as she let herself inside.

“And if I do not?” Tanik’s voice was muffled as the door shut behind Vah’nya. Both women stood before the table Tanik was bolted to at the wrists. “The Aristocra has laws about the treatment of military prisoners,” He challenged. “The Families will not tolerate torture,” He said, and this statement was transmitted through the small speaker just beneath the mirrored transparisteel.

Faro rubbed her arms against the sudden chill she felt in the air as Ar’alani regarded Vah’nya with a curt nod. “What the hell is going on, Vanto?” Faro hissed.

“Don’t worry about it,” He said, never taking his eyes off of Vah’nya even as he felt Faro’s eyes trying to drill into the side of his head. “Where’s Bridger?”

“He’s in Ar’alani’s office.”

“Comm him to come down here.” Vanto turned to regard Faro with a serious expression. “Once Tanik caves, we’re going straight to the hangar,’” He said. “There’s no time for a formal conference about the op, it’s already underway.”

“You’re pretty confident,” Faro commented. “The admiral and I have drilled into him for over an hour. That’s not very long. He might not crack in time, and even if he does, knows if he’ll even have anything remotely useful.”

“He will,” Eli turned his gaze back to the interrogation, eyes landing on Vah’nya. His expression was particularly grim. “Trust me.”

-/

Thrawn had been in the Compass’s medbay in passing during his assignment aboard the warship and suspected he’d been whisked through it when he had been dosed with the Grysk’s poison before being transferred to Ar’alani’s far larger, better equipped flagship.

It was useful to know his surroundings, despite only being able to distinguish it by the overhead lights and the consoles beside sterilization units on the far wall. The majority of the medical suite had been stripped to the essentials. He had been shackled to a variation of a chair-like device he’d seen before. The Empire’s version required the individual to support their own body weight, with restraints around the pelvis, wrists, and ankles. This one did not require the individual to stand, indicative of a more intimate, methodical torture than one carried out by an anonymous probe droid.

The status of his restraints did not concern him, however. Thrawn’s concerns were not for himself. The Grysks had seen fit to ignore him after he’d been taken into their custody. Their infernal attention had instead rested solely on Un’hee. Un’hee, who was close by. Un’hee who-

Thrawn snarled but did not thrash against his restraints. It would be futile to do so. He would be forced to wait, to endure, and he knew he had to do so silently, no matter how much she screamed.

If their captors recognized this as a way to get valuable information from him, her treatment would worsen significantly. He would not allow that. It was his fault she was in this situation as it were, despite her aspirations to volunteer. She was a child. A Navigator of the Ascendancy, sure, but Navigators did not do battle or fight wars. She might aspire to live up to the warrior ideologies they tried to embody, but that was something that took an entire lifetime, whether the Chiss had been gifted with Sight or not.

Still, she did not scream for him to talk or even to make it stop. Something proud burned bright in his chest, allowing him to distance himself just that little bit more from her shrieks of agony. This was a cost of war, of engaging with their enemy, and while the greater good of their people was worth more than one girl’s life, it did not mean he would regret any harm that befell her any less.

When his captors - one Grysk flanked by three Chiss in murky gray coveralls - finally set their sights on him, Thrawn was certain it had at least one hour but less than three since he’d been placed in the room.

He could hear Un’hee whimpering louder now. The door to the medical suite they’d emerged from had likely been left open. Thrawn did not give his captors any indication he noticed. It would be construed as weakness. And it would harm Un’hee if identified, since they would most assuredly exploit it. He was aware of their tactics. The Grysks did not drug those with Sight. They chipped away at their captives’ sanity with pain, then set their sights upon the remains of a Navigator’s fraying mind.

Eyes forward, locked on a Chiss male with long hair that seemed oddly dull under the medbay’s fluorescents, Thrawn refused to flinch as something was injected into his arm. He’d been long since trained to resist torture, to sequester away his innermost secrets even altered by chemical substances. He felt the burn and rush of the hallucinogen as it coursed through his bloodstream, fading into something that felt both frigid and fire all at once. A fusion of Grysk and Chiss procedure, he speculated grimly.

The long-haired Chiss asked questions while the Grysk and two assistants stayed back, watching with stoic faces. Their frustration did not show when Thrawn refused to answer questions even as he felt his vision blur, afterimages projected behind his eyelids when he blinked. His tongue did not thicken, though his mouth began to feel dry. Again, he didn’t give away his predicament, focusing on making no response rather than the psychedelic effects of whatever cocktail they’d dosed him with.

They wanted information on the Aristocra. Thrawn did not tell them he was the wrong person to ask. They wanted information about how he’d escaped the Empire, about their machinations. Thrawn noted, despite the growing auditory distortion and obvious that they did not mention. They layered questions over each other, and eventually, it all began to blur like his vision, the questions coming faster - or perhaps the drug was making his mind move slower - though he continued to focus on keeping quiet, pressing his lips together in a thin line. It was both advantageous and not that his mental processes had been limited by the chemicals in his blood stream. Had he not been trained to remain intently focused on his goal despite his deteriorating state, such a thing would have induced rage, fury, and even the possibility of anxiety. But Thrawn was trained. He did not feel anything but cool indifference and perhaps a little high. He did lift his head, however uncertain as to when it had begun to list forward, and maintained what felt like steady eye contact with the lone Grysk in the room. They did not react, only meeting his gaze and holding it for what felt like far longer than the seconds it lasted. Nothing more.

Still, Thrawn felt no compulsion to speak, and eventually there was another prick, some fast-acting agent injected into the crook of his elbow. He felt himself go slack just milliseconds before his eyes slammed shut.

-/

Chiss weaponry was bulkier than most of what Ezra had used during his time with the rebellion. Not for the first time, he missed his lightsaber desperately. Using a staff or baton was alright, but he hated slinging something to his belt or back that he had to think about, lest he catch himself passing through doorways or be hindered in small spaces. More often than not the weapon remained in its holster if he bothered to carry it all. Ezra found himself more comfortable with the Force’s guidance and whatever make-shift weapon the situation allowed. His adaptability, his scrappiness were his allies in dangerous situations. He’d had plenty of practice learning how to face all sorts of seemingly deadly situations head on thanks to the family he’d come to consider his own.

He had a feeling it was these skills that would help them today. When they had called him down to the cellblock, he knew it was because he would be helping with whatever plan Admiral Ar’alani had cooked up. They would have to work hard to salvage what Thrawn had broken by going off on his own.

Being honest with himself, however, Ezra found that he couldn’t deny Thrawn’s reasoning. He wanted to protect the people he cared about. Bringing Un’hee into it definitely wasn’t okay, but he’d been more than capable of coercion even as a little kid. It was a survival tool he’d used to the fullest as a kid on the streets of his homeworld. Whether Thrawn liked it or not, Un’hee had several similarities to the older Chiss that probably couldn’t be ignored following this.

Ezra wondered if maybe this was the mission he needed to undertake for the Chiss, the reason he’d felt so sure he was needed to follow Thrawn back to the Unknown Regions in the first place. The Force had not so subtly nudged him in this direction, tying him to Thrawn. Thrawn, Ezra knew, was devoted to his people. He may not have wanted to put any of his (well, Ezra assumed that Thrawn considered most of them) friends at risk, but the choice was out of his hands now.

They had to rescue them. Ezra clenched his fists until the material of the combat gloves he’d been given squelched and stretched over his knuckles. It would be difficult. He felt the disturbance aboard the Steadfast like a rapidly approaching stormcloud. He had no doubt that whatever awaited them aboard the Compass would be far worse.

The cells in this wing of the ship were all empty. Graphite colored doors remained closed and lighting strips between equally dark durasteel floor panels illuminated them. At the end of the hall he could make out Commander Faro and Captain Ivant. Faro appeared a bit more skeptical compared to Ivant. The captain’s face was an impassive mask. Someone without the Force at their disposal might have been impressed.

But the Force was strong with Ezra. He could feel the turbulence of worry and pressed back anger that hung over Eli like it held a physical form. The humans stood out brightly in his extended senses compared to the more muted Chiss nearby. Though Ezra could hardly read their minds, he could get a read on their emotional state even if Vanto hadn’t been off balance and projecting. Ezra had long since accepted his ability to connect with others. He long suspected that it increased his need to meditate - he felt like a lightning rod for errant emotions sometimes - but that was a small price to pay for heightened empathy.

Eli Vanto was justified in feeling how he did, Ezra thought. It didn’t take an idiot to figure out that he’d had an altercation with Thrawn, had tried to stop him from going off on whatever this suicide mission - Ar’alani had called it that first - was.

And then, Ezra remembered. He remembered Un’hee: months and months ago, how she’d reached for Thrawn, been cradled against the stoic Chiss’s chest, talking about Eli and Vah’nya while Thrawn struggled to console her with truths that weren’t very comforting at all.

Ezra thought about the man he once knew. Grand Admiral Thrawn: the cold, ruthless executor of calculated plans. The lone alien seemingly at the top of the Imperial Navy. The war criminal who had opened fire on the civilians of Lothal to prove a point to a barely grown Jedi. The servant who would have done anything to please his emperor.

That man was not the same as the one who had gone off to confront the Grysks and their clients in a more intimate setting, who strove to defeat the infiltrators within his own people who might yet be within his ability to save. His heinous actions with the Empire could never truly be atoned for, but Ezra was not foolish enough to think that he too did not have the blood of innocents on his hands. Thrawn knew the lesson, and he recognized his mistake even if it was made with good intent. Thrawn had always had a clear mission.

He’d said to Un’hee that night, as she cried against his chest: We must strive to protect that which we care about. It is why we serve, is it not?

Still, there was one lesson Ezra believed Thrawn had yet to learn: He wasn’t alone.

The only reason Ezra had ever been able to go off on his own to face his reckoning with Thrawn over Lothal was because he’d had people to back him up. His friends - his family - had rallied.

Thrawn had amassed a crew like that, Ezra supposed. He had Eli and Ezra, Faro and Ar’alani, even Vah’nya and Un’hee. Ezra got the feeling he’d always had Ar’alani at his back, even if she held herself apart from the rest. They weren’t just going to let him sacrifice himself.

“Has he said anything?” Ezra asked as soon as he was close enough not to yell. He tried to be casual about his approach and not appear like he’d spent the last several minutes lost in his thoughts.

Faro shook her head. “We don’t have much time,” She answered, though it felt more like she was talking to Vanto. The captain hummed, giving Ezra the impression that this was something she had said before.

Gestured closer, Ezra was allowed a glimpse inside the interrogation room. Tanik remained tall, despite being cuffed, puffed up and proud. His red eyes glowed in the dim light and the way he held himself spoke of defiance. His body language matched his words: indignant insults and haughty pride. Tanik was spiteful to the core. When he wasn’t speaking, the Chiss’s lips were thin and pale, pressed shut as Ar’alani asked questions and made no headway. She followed up by speculating truths and lies that might get him to slip up when he resumed his mocking commentary. In return she received a cool, unimpressed gaze.

Then there was Vah’nya. She stood further back, not quite pressed against the wall behind Ar’alani. It seemed like Tanik had forgotten about her or perhaps she’d not wanted to be present in the first place. Ezra couldn’t tell.

Admiral Ar’alani was a very vibrant woman when frustrated, she wore her anger like armor. It made her sharper. “She-” Ezra paused, aware of the volume of his voice in the otherwise silent space. “It doesn’t seem like the admiral is trying very hard,” He finished, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“Oh?” Captain Ivant cast his eyes to the left. He focused on Ezra for a moment in his periphery before returning his gaze to the window and the interrogation underway. “Your reasoning?” He drawled, voice pitched low and curious-like.

Faro tutted. “It’s freaky when you do that.”

Shrugging, Eli retorted, “He needs to make the connections,” And waited for the Jedi to answer.

Ezra scratched the back of his head with his hand before returning it to his side. He had his suspicions. “She doesn’t believe Tanik will confess anything?”

The captain hummed. “Or?”

“Or,” The Jedi parroted as he arranged his second theory, “Or she already suspects what’s going on and just needs him to confirm details. That’s why she’s making the contradicting statements.”

Eli turned to Faro with the slightest angling of his shoulders. The commander shook her head, but acknowledged him anyway. “It’s eerie how good you are at this, you know that?”

“He was my commander a lot longer than he was yours,” Eli said. Ezra ignored the prickle of pain that passed through Ivant in the Force, keen on grasping the bigger picture. “You and I are both a testament to him being a good teacher.”

She shrugged. It was hard to argue that, apparently. “Still,” She said, “I don’t have anything to add.”

“The third option,” Eli began when Ar’alani fell silent for the first time in ten minutes, leaning over the table and meeting her former mid-commander’s gaze at close range, “Is that she doesn’t care if he speaks either way.”

“What?” Faro’s voice was incredulous. Ezra got the feeling that Faro had always been outspoken, prone to chime in with what she thought. At this point, he agreed with her. It wouldn’t make any sense.

“Ar’alani was never going to get Tanik to talk,” Ezra summarized, unsure that he’d heard Ivant correctly.

“So why waste our time?” Faro asked for herself and Ezra both. They exchanged a look of puzzlement, clearly coming to the same conclusion.

“An act of kindness,” Eli said when Ar’alani straightened and stepped back from their prisoner, turning toward the door and exiting without another word. She did not look back at Vah’nya. Ezra watched as the Navigator shifted from her aloof posture into something almost feline and very focused.

Then, Vah’nya turned her head and met Vanto’s gaze as though the mirrored transparisteel was entirely clear. Ezra felt the weight of her stare both literally and spiritually. When the moment broke, the Navigator took two steps forward and to the right. She stood directly before Tanik, her blood red eyes seeming to glow brighter than Ezra could remember.

“I won’t speak to you either, Navigator,” Tanik spat. The small speaker crackled with latent static. “I have nothing to say. Playing off of each other will not work, no matter how kind you are. Save your breath.”

Vah’nya considered him for a moment. “If you believe,” She began, voice soft but for the intensity of her words, “That the admiral was to be the cruel one, I regret to inform you that you have misread the situation entirely.” She discarded her gloves.

“You will speak to me,” She continued as if speaking to her gloves or even the table.

Tanik snorted. “Have you ever interrogated anyone before?” He asked her. “Ar’alani has more military experience than you have years alive and she has not been successful.”

“I wish to know how many crew members are aboard the vessel scheduled to dock with the Steadfast,” Vah’nya queried. “Will they report to the Compass or the warship that awaits us at the rendezvous?” She lifted her gaze to Tanik, no longer smoothing out the mesh-like gloves of her uniform.

“I will not tell you.”

“But you know?” She asked.

“Know what?” Outside the room, Ar’alani stiffened where she stood beside Ivant. Vah’nya didn’t rise to the bait.

“The Aristocra will not tolerate cruel treatment of an officer,” He prodded. “Were you not listening?” Then, he leaned back, relaxing against his chair. “Besides,” He spat, “You have no weapons on you, no torture devices… So, you’ll violate me with your Sight,” He speculated.

“I do not have time to use Second Sight,” She said. She studied her hands then raised her head, tilting it to the left as she returned her gaze to his face. “Tell me, have you heard of Project Compass?”

“Ah,” Tanik said. “The secret Navigator project that has yet to bear fruit. What of it?”

“It bears fruit,” Vah’nya said. Her voice curled with something familiar that Ezra couldn’t place. “Shall I show you?”

“Vanto,” Faro murmured quietly. “What the hell-”

“You may want to look away,” Vanto answered, though he didn’t. That didn’t answer her question at all.

Ezra felt the cold. It was like snowmelt dripping down his spine, the darkness thick like flavorless syrup, not the saccharine oily feeling he was used to, there and gone before anything even happened. Faro flinched like he did, though she took a single step back for an entirely different reason.

The interrogation room lit up blue-white as the transparisteel cracked and shattered in what felt like lightspeed in slow motion. Lightning struck without thunder. Ezra could still see the brightness of it when he closed his eyes. He could hear Tanik scream, more fear than pain.

The transparisteel window - the two way mirror separating the hallway of the cellblock from the interrogation room - had been reduced to sand-like fragments that glittered against the inlaid floor lighting. The durasteel frame hissed and smoked as though it had been touched by extreme heat.

“Tell me everything,” Vah’nya ordered, speaking over the crackle of destroyed electronics from the speaker embedded below the window’s opening. Her left hand relaxed and drifted down. She regarded her unblemished fingertips, then flexed them. “The sensation is not pleasant for a living being, I am told,” She said, and allowed her hand to fall the rest of the way to her side.

Tanik stared upon Vah’nya in horror and wonder, deathbringer and salvation all in one. He panted, reeling in his seat as he looked between the damage and the Navigator who regarded him, tall, proud, and regal. The fight seemed to leave him like a tangible thing. He swallowed hard, worked his jaw. His eyes remained wide with astonishment.

Then, he spoke.

Beyond Light Part 4: The Lightborn Captain

Summary:

Fireteam Paralight have successfully tracked down Phylaks. But after the baroness mocks Tif for their rank as a captain and association to Mithrax, both she and Fireteam Paralight quickly learn just why she was made a captain in the first place...

Previous Part: Here

Next Part: Here

As Fireteam Paralight entered the Nexus, Phylaks contacted them again, “They say you all are great warriors. Rae, Slayer of the Red Legion. Blaze, Destroyer of Oryx. Marcia, Light’s Shadow. But you I’ve never heard of…”

“I think she means you, Tif.” Berhane whispered. “I’m Tif. Captain of House Light and right-hand of Misraakskel.” Tif replied. “A human captain? Bah!” Phylaks began to laugh, “What a joke.” Tif let out a low growl as Phylaks continued, “You all are built with machine-weakness. God-dependence. You flee from battles you think you’ll lose. Prove you are worth my time.”

Tif muttered a curse in Eliksni under her breath as they continued into the Nexus. “What did Phylaks mean by ‘god dependence’? The Traveller?” Ghost asked, “I don’t feel dependent on or limited by the Traveller. I feel close to the Traveller. Protected. Or…I did.”

“What do you mean?” Rae asked.

“Ever since you got that splinter…I feel further away than ever.”

“Don’t worry. The second this power does anything to hurt you or me, it’s gone. I promise.”

“Thanks, Rae.”

“Don’t worry ya little core, Ghost.” Marcia grinned, “As someone who had Darkness that did hurt them, I can say- WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?!”

Marcia looked on with a horrified expression as she spotted a large Vex marching with a group of smaller ones. “Is that a harpy…with legs?” Rae stared with a confused expression. “Who cares what it is, just kill it!” Blaze called out, gun at the ready.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Rae’s Dawnblade faded from her hands as the last of the Vex burned away as Blaze took out the cube powering the barrier blocking their way. “We should be close by now.” Marcia sighed as she reloaded her gun. “I see now you are a worthy challenge. A chance to hone my blade.” Phylaks’s voice came through once again, “Come find me, machine-spawns. I am waiting.”

“Alright then. Let’s keep pushing.” Rae said as the fireteam made their way deeper into the Nexus. As they did, Rae noticed Tif looking a little peeved. “You okay, Tif?” she asked. “Yeah…it’s just…” Tif began, “Phylaks is wrong. Just because I’m a Guardian, doesn’t mean I’m no less of a captain! And I’ll prove it to her! With or without Stasis.”

“That’s the spirit!” Marcia grinned, giving Tif a playful nudge, “Let’s give her a piece of our mind and let nothing get in our way!”

“Another Brig up ahead.”

“SON OF A-!!”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Fireteam Paralight arrive at what seemed to be piece of land surrounded by radiolarian fluid. Nearly as soon as they arrived, a ketch appeared overhead and Phylaks emerged from it, cackling as she landed on the ground, “I will bring your corpse to Eramiskel. I will forge myself a ring from your armour.”

“You won’t! We’ll defeat you!” Tif countered. “Ha!” Phylaks laughed, “You really think that you, a human playing pretend, can defeat me? I always thought Misraaks was a fool when I head of his ‘house’. But the fact he made a weakling of a human a captain? He’s truly an idiot.”

Tif tensed up, “Take. That. Back.”

“What-?”

“TAKE BACK WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT MISRAAKSKEL!” Tif roared.

“Why should I? He’s an idiot kelling a house of idiots.”

Tif growled, “Rae, Blaze, Marcia. Stay back.”

“W-what?” Rae stared at Tif in disbelief. While her captain-esque mask hid their expression, Rae could make out Tif’s eyes behind the semi-transparent eyepiece that was designed to give off the illusion of Eliksni eyes. Tif’s expression wasn’t their cheery or determined one. It was rage. Tif took several steps forward until they were between their Fireteam and Phylaks. They glared directly glared at the baroness and growled out in Eliksni, “She da hu, et? Sha da go do bo ra!”

Phylaks narrowed her eyes at Tif as Blaze and Rae’s went wide. “What? What’s happening?” Marcia glanced between her fireteammates and Tif and Phylaks. “I recognise that phrase.” Ghost replied, “That’s what Taniks said when he was challenging us in the ways of old. Or at least that’s how Variks described it.”

“Tif’s challenging Phylaks by themself…” Rae muttered.

“Are they crazy?! They’ll get themself killed!” Blaze exclaimed.

Phylaks glared down at Tif before chuckling, “You may be small and weak…but I appreciate an opponent with guts. Come then! Show me what a ‘captain’ of House Light is capable of!”

Tif brandished their arc blade and lunged at Phylaks who managed dodge out of the way and fired at Tif with her own gun. Tif took a few shots to the shoulder but shook it off and fired her submachine gun at Phylaks.

Rae, Blaze and Marcia looked on as the two fought each other. Blaze’s expression was one of concern and fear as she reached for Firelight. Rae stopped her by putting her hand on her shoulder, “No.”

“But-!”

“This is Tif’s fight. If she gets in real trouble, we’ll intervene.”

Blaze, albeit hesitantly, removed her hand from her gun’s hilt, feeling helpless as she watched Tif take on Phalyks.

 “Surprising strength for such a tiny creature!” Phylaks chuckled as she teleported from platform-to-platform. Tif gave chase as the ground beneath them began to disappear, the others following suit but not engaging in the fight. Tif could feel themself running out of steam as they began over-exerting their Light, yet they kept pushing. Rae had never seen Tif like this. In battle, Tif would usually be chipper and easy-going, almost seeming to enjoy the battle and treating it like a fun experience. Now they seemed like a whole different person. Serious, determined, unrelenting, even aggressive to a point. This was it, she realised. This was why Mithrax appointed Tif as a Captain. Tif was more than just an optimistic soul who was friendly to everyone. They’re a strong leader who never gives up on others or themself; who would fight until they reached their limit and would still keep pushing if it meant protecting others; who put the safety of their friends and allies before their own. The best way Rae could describe Tif was the living definition of a Titan; a defender of all.

“GYAH!!”

Rae was snapped out of her thoughts as Tif went skidding across the floor as their helmet tumbled next to them, a large gash carved in it. Tif went to get to their feet but was grabbed by the neck and slammed against one of the blocks jutting up from the ground by Phylaks. Even in their situation, clawing at Phylak’s arm, Tif never dropped their expression. Their eyes wide with rage filling to the brim never looking away from Phylaks’s and their teeth bared as they struggled to break free from the baroness’s grip. “I must say, I’m impressed.” Phylaks began, “For a machine-spawn, you definitely put up a fight and I can respect that. But it still wasn’t enough to beat me.” Rae went to grab her gun to get the large Fallen away from Tif but stopped upon seeing a familiar shard floating above the platform, beginning to glow orange. “I’ll make your death quick as a reward.” Phylaks raised her arm as stasis began to gather in her hand. Tif squeezed their eyes shut as a familiar surge of energy began to swirl within them before letting out an enraged yell as a blast of stasis came surging outwards, sending Phylaks stumbling backwards. Phylaks looked back at Tif who had stasis swirling around them as they glared angrily at her, raising their fist. “I’m. Not. Done.” Tif growled as they clenched their fist which became covered in stasis crystals. “Good.” Phylaks hissed, a grin evident in her voice. Phylaks began to send waves upon waves of stasis towards Tif who swiftly weaved between them while sending out walls of their own. However, Tif seemed to be aiming at different points throughout the battlefield instead of towards Phylaks. That combined with Phylaks’s spikes made it hard for the baroness to move throughout the battlefield…yet Tif was able to squeeze past with ease. “Can you see them?” Blaze asked, desperately searching for Tif in the sea of stasis. “No, it’s too cluttered.” Marcia sighed in frustration, “We just have to hope Tif knows what they’re doing.”

“Hiding, are you?” Phylaks chuckled darkly, “That won’t defeat me, machine-spawn.”

“Nah. Just using size to my advantage!” Tif leapt up from behind a spike towards Phylaks and grabbed onto her face, using their stasis in an attempt to freeze her from the top down. Phylaks roared out in pain as she scratched at Tif’s back. Tif cried out in pain as Phylaks’s claws pierced their armour but refused to let go as Phylaks’s movements began to slow as the stasis began to freeze her in place. “Never call me or my house idiots again!” Tif yelled, “I’m Tif Kariuki the Lightborn Captain! And I will never let ANYONE hurt my friends!” As Phylaks slowly stopped moving, Tif leapt up, using Phylaks’s shoulders for momentum, and with a mighty yell, slammed down onto her with their frozen fist, shattering Phylaks into pieces. Tif landed on the ground amongst the frozen shards, breathing heavily as the stasis faded from them once more. They saw Phylaks’s splinter lying amongst the frozen shards and picked it up before turning to where Rae, Blaze and Marcia were watching, slack-jawed in awe at what they just witnessed. “That…” Marcia breathed, “…was the most badass thing I’ve ever seen.” Tif smiled brightly before picking up her helmet and placing it back on, “Let’s go back. I’m super tired now.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “You guys should’ve seen it!” Blaze beamed as she sat by the fire with Drifter, Marcia and Eris back at the campsite, “I’ve never seen Tif like that! They were all like ‘Rah!’ and ‘Ba-boom!’ and- oh man, you should’ve been there. Phylaks deserved all of what she got!”

“Sounds like you got quite a show.” Drifter chuckled, “Though I’ll admit, wouldn’t have guessed so much rage could fit into that tiny kid.”

“Looks truly can be deceiving.” Marcia added as she looked over at Rae and Tif who were briefing the Stranger on what happened. “And that’s the majority of what happened.” Rae finished explaining. “I see.” The Stranger nodded before turning to Tif, “Well done. You’ve taken to stasis like a fish to water.”

“D’aww…thanks!” Tif grinned, blushing with embarrassment. The Stranger chuckled before continuing, “Eramis’s presence on Europa is not happenstance. Temptation set the wheels in motion, but obsession propelled her here. To destroy the Light with an army of Darkness – she and her followers make those selfish choices moment to moment. The Darkness places a spotlight on our desires as it once did me and those I cared about. For a time, I had forgotten…Humanity relies on our selfless acts to bring about a better world. Darkness is no more than a tool with which we do so. With splinters of Darkness still in hand, Eramis remains an immediate danger to humanity. Look within. Focus your power. Let it grow. The Ziggurat awaits.” Rae gave her a nod before turning back towards the campfire, “Marcia. We’re heading back up to the Ziggurat.”

“I’ma comin’.” Marcia called back as she got to her feet and began following them up to the Ziggurat. The whispers returned as they ascended the stairs. “I want fried chickeeeeeeen.” Marcia whispered, mimicking them. “Eramis stiiiiiiiiiiinks!” Tif whispered back, stifling a giggle. “Guys, knock it off!” Rae giggled. Upon reaching the top, Tif took out the splinter they got from Phylaks and held it towards the shard on the left. The shard glowed brightly as Tif felt another surge of energy flow through her. “Anything?” Rae asked. Tif held up their arm and summoned an orb if stasis in their hand. Their eyes lit up as they turned to Marcia and Rae, “I-I did it!”

“Nice!” Marcia grinned before jolting as she felt another pull, similar to the first time they arrived at the Ziggurat. “You feel that too?” Rae asked. “Yep.” Marcia replied, “Let’s go find another shard.”

 To Be Continued…

Love and Loss: Preface

This is a bit of destiny fanfiction that I'm working on. However, most of it is pretty far removed from the actual story of destiny. It takes place within the world and has minor interaction with established characters, but that's about it. _______________________________________________________________________ (Copy and pasted from my own Reddit post.) So a Long while back, a friend and I developed a concept for a pair of exotic hand cannons meant to be dual wielded. Love and Loss. (Each would have a five round mag and sport the Eyasluna archetype. Love would heal a small amount of health on a successful hit, although it would not start health regen. Loss would add a very minor damage stack on successive hits. (up to 5) The full stack would be lost on a miss. You are incapable of looking down sights due to the left trigger being used for a second gun. The reload and exotic perks are independent of each other.) I really loved the idea of these guns, so I started to write down something of a story to serve as the lore cards. And thus I began my descent into the rabbit hole. So the story I will be telling revolves around three guardians: Onyx: An Exo Hunter that is so good at killing things out of nowhere, that the Fallen basically treat him like a mythological nightmare come to haunt them. He uses his light exclusively to enhance his ability to use the weapons at his disposal, and his natural agility. (His friends think he is a gunslinger, but they can't know for sure as they haven't ever seen him use a golden gun.) Still alive and yet to be rebooted when granted the travelers blessing, He has yet to actually die. This is quite fortunate since an old injury rendered Onyx's ghost "Spark" incapable of resurrection.As a gunsmith, he was the creator of Pearl and Jaden's primary weapons, the hand cannons that would later be known as Love and Loss. (Yes. he's quite the romantic) Pearl: An Awoken warlock Who invented the Void/Ark subclass of Matter Weaver. Basically what I mean by that is she was smart enough to figure out how to use Void and Arc light to brute force transmat things into, and out of, existence. Pearl thinks herself a healer and she uses her abilities to do things like materialize a brand-new leg out of nowhere directly onto a patient. Thankfully, her terrifying intellect Is sharply contrasted by her gentle nature, exemplified by the fact that she prefers to avoid direct combat and simply heal her comrades. (Just don't piss her off. She is entirely capable of dematerializing you out of spite.) Jaden: A Human Titan who is basically just a walking natural disaster. He once brought down a Fallen Ketch simply by throwing himself at/through its engines. It seems as though he was a soldier before he was a guardian as a lot of that mindset appears to have carried over. He is a natural tactician and understands logistics and intricacies of war more than most guardians. He Can't decide between using the Arc abilities of Striker, or the Void abilities of the sentinel, and he often switches between them the mid-battle. Frankly, he doesn't care, as long as It gets in within arm's reach of the enemy. _______________________________________________________________________ Copy and pasted from my text editor. Authors note

This story was developed in a pre D2 context. At the time, many things were still up in the air as to the nature of many in-universe mechanics. So as such, I made the following assumptions for the sake of telling this story.

Chanel ambient light from the traveler as well as it’s own to it’s guardian

Resurrect it’s guardian when necessary.

Note: A ghost can only resurrect its own guardian, although it can receive assistance.

Manage guardian inventory and transmat.

Note: Similar functionality is easily possible without a ghost.

Wielding the light without a ghost Is theoretically possible under the right circumstances.  

Resurrection is possible without a ghost, but not without light. (E.G. Sunsinger)

Light does not dissipate quickly, and can have lasting effects on its surroundings.

Guardians can use the light without a ghost, even if only to a limited capacity. However, the loss of direct light from the ghost can temporarily debilitate a guardian.

That being said, each of the MCs set unique precedents, and that’s kinda the point. They are all supposed to be exceptional. “Well if they are all so amazing, why haven’t I heard of them?” Well, that’s exactly what this story is about. (Also, guardians are all undead demigod space wizards with protagonist powers. Everyone is special. That, and our mute Guardian doesn’t exactly ask a lot of questions.) Preface: Scars that don’t Fade

“He is known to the Fallen as the Old One. “Guardians, they fight, they die, they fight again, as they have for generations. The Fallen may fear death at their hand, but only in the same way that one might fear death in the face of an oncoming storm. In fact, some find solace in besting one of the curse’ed light bearers once or twice before their inevitable defeat. “But the Old One… he does not fight. He does not die. He kills. Many of the Fallen’s most skilled hunters, warriors who survived battle after battle with you guardians, have been judged and been found wanting, without ever seeing the crimson glow of his cold eyes.”

- Verriks

“The Vanguard has heard a few passing references to what seems to be a Fallen boogeyman in their radio chatter. not like Taniks, whose stories are told to scare fallen children, but a living reaper whispered in hushed tones when dregs think their captains can’t hear. Of course, as this mysterious entity was only killing our enemies, Zavala saw no reason to devote precious resources to perusing the matter. (No matter how curious Cayde got.) “it’s killing Fallen. Let it kill Fallen. We have more pressing concerns” Zavala would say. all they knew is that whispers of the “Old one” had been circulating since the Fallen first entered the system. “but not one to ignore a potential threat, or neglect a potential ally, I tasked my hidden with determining the nature of the Fallen’s apparition. As it turned out, the “Old one” was a guardian, and had been a consistent thorn in the side of all of our enemies. The main reason the fallen in particular made mention of him was simply due to the fact that our other adversaries are unlikely to notice a difference from one guardian to the next. The news I received next was particularly pleasant, because when I inquired as to the identity of this Guardian, I was struck with an unexpected pang of familiarity.

“most simply believe him to be a myth. Those that know the reality of his existence fear him. But those of us who call him a friend simply leave him in peace. In truth, he is much less mysterious than many would have you believe. Just an old Exo hermit who happens to be one of the travelers chosen. He fights against the darkness just like anyone else, he just does so on his own terms.

“After losing his fire-team in an unfortunate battle many years ago, my friend, a reclusive Exo hunter named Onyx, begin throwing himself into his work. There is a certain satisfaction that comes from exercising ones mastery over their chosen craft. But while once his imposing skill set was paired beautifully with that of his companions, he was now stripped of anything else that gave his life meaning. All that was left was the the lonely assassin, honing himself and his abilities, becoming increasingly more deadly, as there was nothing else left for him to become. Time now stretched out before him endlessly, empty of purpose, but at least he had an equally endless supply of targets to take it out on.

“As a gunsmith, Onyx always had a knack for designing weapons that matched any desired combat style perfectly. When it came time for his dear friends Jaden and Pearl to get married, that old softy designed matching hand cannons specifically for each them. Each one tailored in a way that reflected what they meant to each other. Additionally, as conduits of light, these weapons became increasingly effective as they used them. Their signature abilities eventually became ingrained in the functionality of the weapons themselves. Understandably, Onyx became proud of the weapons he had created for his friends. Each passing battle serving as a testament to their ability to keep his friends safe.

“But now he patrols the system solo, his only company being the shadow of severed bonds and the weapons he crafted to keep them. Each weapon echoing with the power of the ones he once called Family. He spends his days alone, wielding the memories of a time when he wasn’t. “To make matters worse, I must live with a truth that, for his sake, he must never know. If only to save the poor man's spirit from potentially being broken beyond repair.” - Ikora Rey

Trophies

(So since this didn’t make it into the fanzine, I no longer have to keep it a secret!)

Cayde-6 raids the ship of Taniks the Scarred. Full piece below break. Slight body horror warning.

[The Shadow Thief (grimoire card) “The Wolves have sent a mercenary to Luna. Taniks, the Scarred. He would steal from the Hive all they know. Would align the Fallen with the shadows. You will stop him… but he will rejoice in your interference. Embraces conflict does Taniks. Revels in the trophies he collects from all he defeats. End his games.” - Variks, the Loyal] [Cloak of Taniks (item description) He of the endless troves of arms, and legs, and hearts, and lungs, and…]   The last Vandal struggles but it’s crackling snarl is smothered by a gloved hand, then by ether building up in its throat when Cayde-6 twists his knife just so. Four arms twitch one last time before sliding away. Cayde lowers the body gently, not for the benefit of the Fallen but because the wet flop of another dead Vandal is sure to be dangerously loud in the otherwise hushed halls of the Kaliks-Syn.   His Ghost hacks the door as Cayde drags the silenced guards away from their post and stuffs the bodies behind one of the Fallen munitions spheres lining the hall like orange boulders. The number of limp limbs make it something of a chore. Maybe brief weeks as the new Hunter Vanguard have already thrown Cayde off his game. There’s a burning line where his ribs would be- the thrust of a shock blade that didn’t quite meet its mark- but the wound is negligible, hardly leaking. Cayde urges through their neural link for his Ghost to hurry as he watches the open hall behind them. This is the right door. He’s certain of it. It’s the only door under guard across the entire ketch, excluding the bridge.   A seal hisses pressurized air and massive doors slide apart. Cayde slips inside with his companion hot on his heels. Ghost seals the door from the inside and darkness falls over them- not the kind that dampens Light of Guardians but the old-fashioned kind of darkness that smothers the senses and spurs the imagination in the creation of unseen horrors. Ghost hums as he sifts through simple systems of the control panel glowing gently beside the locked door. When pale, white runners spring up to push back the shadows, Cayde-6 slowly realizes his imagination hadn’t run nearly hard or far enough.  The space is cavernous; far larger than any of the other rooms they’ve stealthily sifted through aboard the ketch. The dim lighting barely reaches the banners that hang from the high ceiling in a tattered criss-crossing tapestry. Most are Fallen in design but none of the markings match the glyph on the side of the ship. Cayde’s Ghost drifts upward to examine the collection of house symbols but Cayde snaps his fingers and shakes his head. This isn’t the time or place for curious Ghosts to float beyond their Guardians’ protective reach. The Hunter’s silent order to descend increases urgently when his eyes adjust to space and he gets a better look at the ground floor. Running lights frame a central aisle and on either side stand rows of clear cases containing…pieces. Some things Cayde recognizes through the hazy gloom and thick barriers, like the pitted arm of a Hive Knight with a sword still in hand. Some things he doesn’t, like the tooth nearly as long as his leg or the pile of tentacles…tongues?…in the case next to it. Whatever they are and whatever they once belonged to, they are nothing but trophies now.   None of them are the one Cayde came for. Variks swore it would be here.   He almost misses it. The tank at the end of the aisle is so large and the specimen inside so comparatively small that, at first, Cayde thinks it’s empty. But once he’s recognized the silhouette from across the long room, none of the other displays matter and Cayde’s feet lead him reluctantly down the morbid lane. The oversized cylinder must have been meant for something big, bigger than an Archon, far larger than the creature it holds; a display planned for one acquisition but given to another in a place of dubious honor.   Andal Brask hangs inside suspended in pale, amber goo.   He’s dead. Cayde knew that. But seeing it makes it real. Cayde has yet to mourn- refused to do so without proof. Now he has it. The blackened remains of a Ghost ‘float’ over Andal’s shoulder and erase all doubt. Andal is gone. Irreparably.   It should destroy Cayde, should make his knees buckle, send the Exo crumbling to the floor. Cayde is far too angry for any of that.   There are no controls, no, buttons, and no release hatch scattered along the slightly raised dais. It’s just an oversized jar with one immaculately kept human specimen in full field gear. Even as his Ghost begins to scan for some weakness, Cayde kicks at the enclosure viciously. His heel bounces off and he staggers. Ghost shushes Guardian desperately but the Hunter regains his balance and strikes again. The Light-given strength that can crack a decent-sized tree does little more than slosh the liquid inside and send Andal’s limbs drifting with the change. It makes Cayde sick to his core. He rips his handcannon from his holster and lets the Traveler’s power roar through him. Three golden rounds scream into the tank at a careful angle. Each punches a hole before it drills into the floor. Jets of rank preservatives gush out in their wake.   Loud. Ghost warns across their bond. Stupid.   Ghost swirls around in a panic as the first sirens bellow. Cayde doesn’t care, refuses to worry further. Let the Fallen come. He could massacre every living thing on this ship now that he’s seen what they’ve done. He strikes with his boot again and what’s left of the glass around the three holes crumples and sags held only by a nearly invisible mesh that lines the glass. Dozens of streams spit from the fractures and splash against the Exo’s armor. Cayde holsters his gun and drives his fist through the weakened mess. The fist turns into a furious claw as the Hunter tears away mesh and glass until he finally creates a small opening. The surrounding glass cracks and bows from the force of surging liquid before great chunks break away and the small opening suddenly becomes a gaping doorway. Cayde staggers when the wave of amber preservatives hit his knees but holds onto the jagged edge of the glass even as it bites through his shredded gloves and into the joints of his fingers. Andal follows with the flow and Cayde catches the body mid-stream. Sopping wet and reeking of alien chemicals, Cayde clings to his fallen friend. He thanks the Traveler for small blessings because, even cracked and dented, Andal’s helmet is still securely fastened. Cayde is not quite ready for the final face-to-face.   “I’ve got you,” Cayde whispers into the drooping head against his chest.   The last of the tank empties in little rivers as the door behind them hisses open. The first Dreg in hesitates, confused by the splashes it makes. Cayde takes off its head with one well-placed shot. So falls the second and the third. Panicked clicks and growls in the doorway are drowned by a roar from the hall. If Cayde still had a heart, it would be thundering in anticipation.   Taniks the Scarred bursts through the door in a writhing mess of limbs. A nightmare augmented by ether and metal. The mercenary’s crew scatter out of the way or suffer the consequences like the Dreg batted into the wall by a great, metal hand. Rage simmers in every inch of the massive Fallen; rage for Cayde’s impudence in trespassing aboard the Kaliks-Syn, the murder of Taniks’ crew, but mostly for the violation of his trove. A Vandal raises its wire rifle and Taniks stomps the creature into the ground before snarling at the surrounding troops. A primed scorch cannon rests in Taniks’ hand but even he doesn’t fire. Cayde chuckles to himself when the reason becomes apparent. Taniks the Proud won’t risk ruining his trophies. The mercenary spits something garbled and violent sounding in Cayde’s direction as his troops throw down their ranged weapons and rush for the dais. Ghost attempts to translate from his hiding place behind Cayde’s shoulder but the Hunter shakes his head.   “I don’t care what it says.” Cayde guns down the two fastest Fallen, stows his handcannon with an easy confidence, and shoots Taniks the Scarred a single verticle finger. “Translate this and take us away, Ghost.”   Ghost growls his best impression of the Fallen language and hastily begins to transmat the three of them away in a shower of blue. He may not be the one to do it, but Cayde allows himself to retreat with the satisfaction of knowing eventually some Guardian will put an end to Tanik’s life. For now, Cayde hoists Andal’s weight against his chest and holds tight for transmat.   “Don’t worry. I’m bringing you home.”

Destiny + text posts part 19/?

masterlist

Small Thoughts : 

What is this Spades and Hearts thing?

Cayde in a wheelchair 

Hunters are the Power Rangers of Destiny 

Those Triangular Ships in the End Credit scene of Destiny 2 looks familiar 

Does Cayde has a robo dic? 

Cayde fav song

Requested Imagines :

s/o stole Cayde’s cloak and he is mad but when he sees them, he admit that they look adorable in it 

When Cayde found out that his s/o rescued him on Nessus  

Cayde reunited with his s/o but got stabbed in the back by a Cabal 

Eris reaction to Cayde having a son 

What does Cayde do with a bucket load of Glimmer? (Cayde-6 answers) 

Cayde’s s/o is stuck on the moon cuz their leg got stuck. What will Cayde do? 

How will Cayde react if his crush like someone else? For example; Shiro-4. (angst)

Cayde taking care of his sick s/o 

How does Cayde react when you wear the cloak of Taniks the Scarred? 

How would Cayde react when his s/o protect him while on a risky mission and getting hurt in the process? // added gif //

What Cayde got jealous? 

How does Cayde convince his s/o to keep the chicken? 

Cayde reaction when his s/o came back from the EDZ with a boxful of kittens 

What is Cayde casual wear? Besides his Hunter armour. 

Cayde has to be careful when tackling or hugging his s/o (Cayde-6 answers) 

Ghost Headcannons 

Cayde meeting his s/o for the very first time 

Cayde’s a mess when you’re away 

A Day Off in the Tower and Cayde asking you out, with a side of dancing underneath the night skies 

The Truth behind Cayde Appreciation Day 

Cayde admire his sleeping s/o 

Spending snow day with Cayde 

Can Cayde wear helmet, even with his horn? (Cayde-6 answers) 

Shy Warlock Reader has a massive crush on him. His reply? 

Cayde having a crush on a Warlock Reader and seek to Ikora for help 

Cayde comfort his s/o when they are upset 

Cayde interested in a Warlock who he caught them, staring at him and then look away 

Cayde being nervous to see his s/o to step into the Vex Teleporter to have a face off against Ghaul 

Imagines by Others : 

Cayde discovered that the Young Wolf is his son, Ace 

Cayde introducing his s/o to his son 

Aksis and Atheon are getting along peacefully 

Eris learn the hard way of learning Cayde’s son 

Wheelchair race ft. Ace 

Ace got scolded by Cayde. Even his s/o scold Ace for pulling that stunt 

Cayde and Ace meet but doesn’t know each other significance 

Tevis and Andal becoming good influences to Ace 

Cayde’s Ghost likes Guardian and their Ghost 

What if Cayde calls you his favorite Guardian because you remind him of his son 

How Cayde can be nervous to see his s/o to step into the Vex Teleporter to fight off against Ghaul

Numbered Imagines :

[No.1] - [No.2] - [No.3] - [No.4] - [No.5] - [No.6] - [No.7] - [No.8] - [No.9] - [No.10] - [No.11] - [No.12] - [No.13] - [No.14] -

Something that might or might not have happen in the Tower : 

Cayde or the Sparrow? 

Cayde is your idiot.  

The Way to your Heart 

What’s Loot? 

Yer’ a plushie to Cayde 

If you wear a dress, Cayde will wear a suit 

What are you? An idiot Chicken. 

Hunters are Slytherins 

You have no idea the pain you caused me.  

Thanks, sweetie. 

Are you an adult, Cayde? 

Cayde should wear a skirt or a dress 

Cayde got me helpless 

Lend me a hand 

You are dumb. No, I’m Cayde-6

Destiny + text posts 17/?

Irredeemable characters game: Taniks

@shadowtriad and @roxanne-says-go-home have already done it better than I ever could, just read this and this (please heed the tags though!)

Hot take: Nokris, the Abomination and Taniks, Thrice Reborn will be twin raid bosses in Lightfall