Survivor
ensou
Magical G̶i̶r̶l̶ Servant Mordred-chan
- Location
- NEW YORK CITY!??
- Pronouns
- She/Her
On the Moon, there is a pit, and in that pit lies the soul of a god.
We killed his shell. But we could not sunder his soul.
His name is Crota, son of Oryx.
Six of us went down into that pit. And now I am all that remains. I can still remember their screams. Their cries. Their defiance in the face of suffering and death.
How long have I been down here? How many months? Years? Decades?
The Hive have taken much from me. My friends. My sight. My Ghost. My Light.
But they have not taken my life, and I will make them pay for everything they have taken.
I have already stolen their eyes, replaced the ones they tore out by tearing out theirs in turn, and the eyes I have now weep an unstemmable viscous black flow.
I have stolen their knowledge, learned beyond what Toland told us when we walked downwards together. Learned what he did not tell us. There is so much more than just the Light, and every bit is required to survive this lifeless waste.
I have taken their bones, their skin, their chitin. My armor plates wore and became dust, so I replaced them with the only things I could.
I follow the whispers of the Ahamkara bone that I hold in my hands, not knowing how long they will lead me, but only that they do and they will not guide me astray.
My name is Eris Morn, and I will escape and see Crota dead.
She crawls out of the dust, dead and alive and dead. She is not like Toland, who is dead beyond death now, but she is still more dead than alive.
It is a nearly a day before she reaches where they'd left their jumpships, and she nearly collapses and howls in frustration when she sees how damaged they are, picked and scavenged by Fallen.
Only through sheer will does she force herself up, beginning to try to cobble together what she can, though ships were never her strength. Three days later, she has done all she can, and it is still not enough.
She learned much in the Pit. Learned how the Hive grow and mold their chitin and bone, twist it to their whims. She listens to the whispers of the bone fragment in her hand, and it says what she already knows deep down: if she ever wants to get off this blasted moon, she has to go back. Back into the pit, back into the dark, so that she can take the materials she will need.
And so she does, hating every second of it, collecting plates of chitin and then stealing away with it. She carves runes into the pieces with her knives, twisting the Hive's methods and magic so she can force everything to work in a Frankenstein horror that she's sure would make Toland want to tear his eyes out, an outcome she would have no problems with.
Traitorous, selfish wretch.
It is nearly a month after she crawled out of the pit that she finally escapes the gravity well of the moon that held her so long.
She does not want to go back, ever again.
She knows she will.
She returns to the Vanguard, and finds it unbearable. They have not changed, and she has.
The only one who makes an effort to engage her in anything more than surface platitudes, who listens to her, who wants to understand is Ikora. Ikora, who faithfully records and discusses the things she has found, the horrors she has seen, the things that lurk in the deep of the dark below.
So when Ikora asks her if she would be willing to keep reporting to her the things she finds, to help protect humanity even without her Light, she agrees. What else can she do? She is a Hunter no longer, but that doesn't mean she can't hunt.
Especially not secrets.
Especially not the Hive.
She keeps track of the Hive, listen to their whispers in the dark, watches what they do, how they move, where they flow. She hears names of gods and demons, and knows that it is no exaggeration.
She only wishes she could be there, in the Tower, when she learns that the World's Grave has been infiltrated, so that she could watch their faces as they realize that all her words were true.
Fools.
The Hive are a plague, and Earth is a field ripe for swarming.
Did she not tell them that? Did she not warn them?
She stays away, watches the Vanguard try to organize itself against this new incursion that is not new at all. Watches them try to purge it.
And then, and then andthenandthen, she learns that Crota's lieutenants are moving. Sardon comes to Earth, and Omnigul wants the Warmind. She knows what is happening.
And she knows that it is time to return to the Tower.
Maybe this time they'll listen to her.
Otherwise, Crota will rise again.
A/N: I lied. This is not early Weaver. (Next chapter!) Also, after a good amount of thought, I'm going to make the previous chapter a side-story chapter. It doesn't really advance the plot, it doesn't really have any redeeming features that are necessary to the story, that can't be summarized in another chapter, but it's still content. Thus, "sidestory".
We killed his shell. But we could not sunder his soul.
His name is Crota, son of Oryx.
Six of us went down into that pit. And now I am all that remains. I can still remember their screams. Their cries. Their defiance in the face of suffering and death.
How long have I been down here? How many months? Years? Decades?
The Hive have taken much from me. My friends. My sight. My Ghost. My Light.
But they have not taken my life, and I will make them pay for everything they have taken.
I have already stolen their eyes, replaced the ones they tore out by tearing out theirs in turn, and the eyes I have now weep an unstemmable viscous black flow.
I have stolen their knowledge, learned beyond what Toland told us when we walked downwards together. Learned what he did not tell us. There is so much more than just the Light, and every bit is required to survive this lifeless waste.
I have taken their bones, their skin, their chitin. My armor plates wore and became dust, so I replaced them with the only things I could.
I follow the whispers of the Ahamkara bone that I hold in my hands, not knowing how long they will lead me, but only that they do and they will not guide me astray.
My name is Eris Morn, and I will escape and see Crota dead.
She crawls out of the dust, dead and alive and dead. She is not like Toland, who is dead beyond death now, but she is still more dead than alive.
It is a nearly a day before she reaches where they'd left their jumpships, and she nearly collapses and howls in frustration when she sees how damaged they are, picked and scavenged by Fallen.
Only through sheer will does she force herself up, beginning to try to cobble together what she can, though ships were never her strength. Three days later, she has done all she can, and it is still not enough.
She learned much in the Pit. Learned how the Hive grow and mold their chitin and bone, twist it to their whims. She listens to the whispers of the bone fragment in her hand, and it says what she already knows deep down: if she ever wants to get off this blasted moon, she has to go back. Back into the pit, back into the dark, so that she can take the materials she will need.
And so she does, hating every second of it, collecting plates of chitin and then stealing away with it. She carves runes into the pieces with her knives, twisting the Hive's methods and magic so she can force everything to work in a Frankenstein horror that she's sure would make Toland want to tear his eyes out, an outcome she would have no problems with.
Traitorous, selfish wretch.
It is nearly a month after she crawled out of the pit that she finally escapes the gravity well of the moon that held her so long.
She does not want to go back, ever again.
She knows she will.
She returns to the Vanguard, and finds it unbearable. They have not changed, and she has.
The only one who makes an effort to engage her in anything more than surface platitudes, who listens to her, who wants to understand is Ikora. Ikora, who faithfully records and discusses the things she has found, the horrors she has seen, the things that lurk in the deep of the dark below.
So when Ikora asks her if she would be willing to keep reporting to her the things she finds, to help protect humanity even without her Light, she agrees. What else can she do? She is a Hunter no longer, but that doesn't mean she can't hunt.
Especially not secrets.
Especially not the Hive.
She keeps track of the Hive, listen to their whispers in the dark, watches what they do, how they move, where they flow. She hears names of gods and demons, and knows that it is no exaggeration.
She only wishes she could be there, in the Tower, when she learns that the World's Grave has been infiltrated, so that she could watch their faces as they realize that all her words were true.
Fools.
The Hive are a plague, and Earth is a field ripe for swarming.
Did she not tell them that? Did she not warn them?
She stays away, watches the Vanguard try to organize itself against this new incursion that is not new at all. Watches them try to purge it.
And then, and then andthenandthen, she learns that Crota's lieutenants are moving. Sardon comes to Earth, and Omnigul wants the Warmind. She knows what is happening.
And she knows that it is time to return to the Tower.
Maybe this time they'll listen to her.
Otherwise, Crota will rise again.
A/N: I lied. This is not early Weaver. (Next chapter!) Also, after a good amount of thought, I'm going to make the previous chapter a side-story chapter. It doesn't really advance the plot, it doesn't really have any redeeming features that are necessary to the story, that can't be summarized in another chapter, but it's still content. Thus, "sidestory".
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